#Best Putters 2020

[digitaltariq]

Jack Burke Jr., Who Gained 2 Main Golf Titles in a Season, Dies at 100

Jack Burke Jr., a high participant on the P.G.A. tour within the postwar years who received two main golf championships in a single season, then turned a sought-after teacher to among the sport’s best stars, died on Friday in Houston. He was 100 and the oldest residing winner of the Masters and P.G.A. championships. A consultant of the Texas Sports activities Corridor of Fame, which inducted him in 1978, confirmed the loss of life. Burke’s banner yr was 1956, when he received each the Masters and P.G.A. titles and was named the P.G.A.’s golfer of the yr. His Masters victory stunned nearly everybody. Solely weeks earlier, having gone winless because the Inverness open in Ohio in 1953, Burke, who was 33, had introduced that he was contemplating retiring. And going into the ultimate spherical at Augusta Nationwide Golf Membership, he was eight strokes behind the Masters chief, Ken Venturi, and had not drawn a lot consideration. All eyes had been on Venturi, who at 24 was vying to grow to be the primary newbie to win the Masters. However as Venturi faltered, Burke crept up the leaderboard, passing eight gamers, and received by a stroke. He had acquired some meteorological assist. “I had a downhill putt on the seventeenth gap that was lightning fast, and it was made even sooner as a result of the 40-mile-per-hour wind had blown sand out onto the inexperienced,” Burke told Golf Digest in 2004. “I simply touched that putt, and I instantly thought, ‘Oh, no, I didn’t get it midway there.’ Then the wind grabbed that factor and saved blowing it down the hill, till it plunked lifeless in the midst of the outlet. It was a miracle — the most effective break of my profession.” That June, Burke received the P.G.A. championship, defeating Ted Kroll on the Blue Hill Nation Membership in Canton, Mass., in match-play format, which relies on holes received in a head-to-head contest and never the variety of strokes on a scorecard. All informed, Burke received 16 tournaments on the Skilled Golfers’ Affiliation of America tour, together with 4 in 4 weeks in 1952. The son of a Houston golf membership professional, Burke turned skilled at 17 and joined the tour at 23, hailed as probably the most promising golfers of his technology. In 1949, Burke, by then residing in Kiamesha Lake, N.Y., in Sullivan County, recorded his first skilled win, within the Metropolitan Open, on his house course, the Metropolis Nation Membership, in White Plains, defeating the veteran Gene Sarazen. The victory got here 24 years to the day after Burke’s father defeated Sarazen in a match, as Sarazen ruefully however good-naturedly identified to Jack Jr. In 1952, after his 4 straight tour victories and a second-place end on the Masters, behind Sam Snead, Burke was profiled by Collier’s journal as “Golf’s New Scorching-Shot.�� At 5-foot-9 and 170 kilos, he may hit 265 yards off the tee and was a superb putter. His boyish beauty solely added to his enchantment. “His curly faintly auburn hair, blue eyes and occasional shy smile have made him the darling of the female hyperlinks addicts,” the journal wrote, figuring out Burke as “considered one of golf’s most eligible bachelors.” In 1957, Burke joined his mentor, Jimmy Demaret, the primary three-time Masters champion, in founding the Champions Golf Club in Houston. Demaret had been an assistant professional below Burke’s father since Jack Jr. was 10. Burke and Demaret instituted a membership coverage — nonetheless in power — below which solely golfers with a handicap of 14 or decrease are admitted. “I liken us to Stanford College, or Yale or Harvard,” Burke informed Golf Digest. “They don’t settle for D college students academically, and we don’t settle for folks with a D common in golf.” The membership hosted the 1969 United States Open and the 2020 U.S. Girls’s Open Championship, amongst different tournaments. Burke went on to earn distinction as a longtime teacher of Phil Mickelson, Hal Sutton, Steve Elkington and different professionals. In his 70s, Arnold Palmer dropped by for a lesson. Jack Nicklaus as soon as mentioned of Burke, “I can’t inform you what number of occasions we have been enjoying golf and he’d say, ‘Jack, how are you going to play from that place?’” John Joseph Burke Jr. was born on Jan. 29, 1923, in Fort Value, the eldest of eight siblings, considered one of whom died younger. He grew up in Houston, the place his father, who had tied for second within the 1920 U.S. Open, was the professional on the River Oaks Nation Membership. Jack Jr. first performed golf at age 6. At 12, he shot a 69 on a troublesome par-71 course. At 16, he certified for the U.S. Open. However at 17, on the insistence of his mom, he entered Rice Institute (now Rice College) in Houston. He left earlier than he accomplished his freshman yr, nevertheless, and have become the top professional on the Galveston Nation Membership. When World Warfare II broke out, Burke joined the Marine Corps and taught fight conditioning, together with judo. He joined the P.G.A. tour after the battle (it formally turned the PGA Tour in 1968), moved to New York State and in addition taught golf at golf equipment in New Jersey and New York Metropolis. He first gained broad consideration in 1951, when he recorded two commanding victories in that yr’s Ryder Cup competitors. That led to his choice to 4 extra Ryder Cup occasions within the Nineteen Fifties, during which he compiled a 7-1 match report towards his European competitors. He was twice Ryder Cup captain, shedding in 1957 and profitable in 1973. In 1952, he received the Vardon Trophy, given to the tour chief in scoring common. (His was 70.54.) When Burke was 81, Hal Sutton, the 2004 United States Ryder Cup captain, named him an assistant captain. Burke was elected to the World Golf Hall of Fame in 2000. In 2003, he was voted the recipient of the PGA Tour’s Lifetime Achievement Award and america Golf Affiliation’s Bob Jones Award. In 2007, he acquired the P.G.A. Distinguished Service Award. Burke married Ielene Lang in 1952. She died within the mid-Eighties. He had turned 60 when, in 1984, he met Robin Moran, a freshman golfer on the College of Texas, on the placing inexperienced on the Champions Golf Membership, the place her father had despatched her for a golf lesson, in line with the P.G.A. historian Bob Denney. The couple married in 1987. She was a finalist within the 1997 United States ladies’s newbie championship and was additionally inducted into the Texas Golf Hall of Fame. She survives him. Burke had a daughter together with his second spouse and 5 kids together with his first, together with a son, John J. Burke III, who died in 2017. Full info on his survivors was not instantly out there. Burke joined elite firm by profitable two majors in a single season, however by his personal alternative he would by no means have a shot at a grand slam, as it's understood right now, by profitable all 4, both in a single season or in a profession. He missed the lower on the 1956 U.S. Open, at Oak Hill Nation Membership, outdoors Rochester, and he by no means performed within the British Open. Frank Litsky, a longtime Instances sportswriter, died in 2018. William McDonald and Sofia Poznansky contributed reporting. Read the full article

[reglux456]

Taylormade Tp Reserve Milled Putters

Tour stage golf balls are multi-layered and designed for skilled and skilled gamers with fast swing speeds. If you're starting out in golf or even taylormade golf an experienced participant, other inexpensive golf balls can be a great fit. Golf balls also are available a variety of colors and you may even personalize your golf ball with images and textual content.

But first, you have to understand how totally different golf balls and golf ball compression numbers may have have an effect on the way in which the ball behaves. The cavity back contains a hollow construction on the again of the top that taylormade is best for novice golfers because it presents plenty of forgiveness each when it comes to accuracy and distance. The Paradym is a brand new ‘players distance’ iron from Callaway that's the first to utilize an A.I.-designed Forged Face and Speed Frame building.

The release of the Callaway Edge complete set caused some stir and with good reason – a great worth newbie set with a premium degree putter and driver thrown into the deal. Cobra have accomplished an excellent job of making these irons forgiving, and powerful, however still giving them a pleasant really feel when hanging golf pictures. The broad, flat profile makes this fairway wooden simple to hit off the ground and a fantastic alternative off the tee in case your driver isn’t behaving. The M47 is a mix of a blade and mallet, created from efficiency metal. It options the widest topline of the three TP Reserve mallets, in addition to gradient thickness in the cavity and a perfected radius alongside the bumpers.

This isn't half-hour on the vary with vary balls or searching of the Pro-Shop window. M47 is a mix of a blade and mallet crafted into a flawless piece of performance metal. It has the widest topline of the three TP Reserve mallets and gradient thickness within the cavity and a perfected radius alongside the bumpers. I suppose the M33 will prove very fashionable with gamers looking for a mallet with toe grasp. I do know that I often focus on the entrance of the putter since that's the place I hit the ball.

Strike concern into the hearts golf digest of your adversaries with Stealth Black.

Finally, they are in-built a way that can go nicely with you perfectly and nonetheless suit you properly in 1-3 years’ time as you develop into an intermediate golfer. But that’s not the one enchancment in the carbon composite face on this year’s Stealth 2. Like the original, the face is constructed by 60 distinct layers of carbon fiber that are organized to supply a more flexible perimeter with thinner sections around the heart thicker region.

So far, the SIM is the only driver that we’ve measured in 2020 that has a CG under center. To put it simply, the upper the CG is on the face, the more the ball will spin. When breaking down what makes a driver completely different from models of years past, it can be easy to get misplaced in the jargon. CG (center of gravity) and MOI (moment of inertia) are two things we measure on every driver and they’re additionally two things that many don’t perceive.

[amberfaber40]

HOW TO MAKE CHINESE TEA

HOW TO MAKE CHINESE TEA

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Introduction Flashcards

26 Things to know before traveling to Japan for the first time: Etiquette and Cultural Guide — Helena Bradbury

Japanese culture and etiquette is unique and very different from other cultures around the world so there are things every traveler should know before traveling to Japan for the first time. It’s important to understand the culture and traditions, not only to be a respectful visitor, but also to get

Zucchini Sweet Potato Cultured Vegetables

Unbelievably yummy! This is a wonderful way to culture zucchini and the taste is addictive. I make gallons of these in the summertime when zucchini is growing like crazy!

Authentic Experiences in Hoi An, Vietnam - Brown Eyed Flower Child

Hoi An, Vietnam is a magical town where you could enjoy the most authentic experiences of Vietnamese culture. Learn about the best Hoi An experiences.

Mexican Day of the Dead comes to Liverpool's St George's Hall

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Ramadan Typography 2020

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25 Best Things to do in Kyoto, Japan

Looking for the best things to do in Kyoto, Japan? We break down everything you need to do if you have only 3 days in Kyoto, or a week!

Photos: what it's like to travel during monsoon in Nepal - Lost With Purpose

What the heck we were doing in Nepal?! Plus what it was like to travel in Nepal during monsoon. Our initial plans for Nepal sounded pretty badass: we would enter through the eastern tea hills, putter about in the Kathmandu valley as we sorted out visas, strap on our packs and hike over 5,000 meter plus passes, then our way through remote and offbeat Western Nepal to cross into Northern India. What we actually did: drink a metric shit ton of coffee, twiddle our thumbs, and bond with working wifi (my love, I needed you). So we went to Nepal…

Bob Marley's 30 greatest songs – ranked!

As Tuff Gong releases a limited edition series of Marley albums, we pick the greatest work of reggae’s biggest star

 CHINESE TEA      What do I have to do with Chinese Tea?  "When in Rome be a Roman" & "When in Rome do as a Roman do." Living in Malaysia - a food haven with multicultural reflections, the region is open to Chinese Culture in its unique form.  And here I got the chance of tasting Chinese Tea. While dining in Chinese Restaurants, they serve their unique tasting Chinese Teas.  I was literally fancied by the Tea sets and the Tea making equipment that long back I collected a few items along with a huge Antique Dragon-Turtle Tea Pot big enough to brew Chinese Tea for a crowd.    Well, I am not a tea person, but still, I love to drink these Chinese Teas when dining out.  Especially I love the Jasmine & Rose flavoured Chinese Teas prepared with dried flowers and Tea Leaves. Mildly flavoured and rejuvenating to the senses.     Tea has a history of its own. In China, drinking tea is mostly a cultural thing, with the majority of people drink tea throughout the day. Chinese Teas can be traced back all the way to the Tang Dynasty and is believed to have been first discovered in 2737 BCE, by the legendary founder of herbology, Shen Nong. He contributed to the development of Chinese medicine with his extensive knowledge of herbs.     In Chinese Culture, Tea was considered as an Elixir in ancient China & one of the 7 necessities of life. There are 5 basic categories of teas in China - White, Green, Oolong, Black and Post-fermented (Pu’erh Tea). Chinese Tea has become a part of Chinese Culture, where the tea is drunk more frequently for healthy living than to quench the thirst.CHINESE TEA  CHINESE TEA Different types of Chinese Tea:White Tea - White Tea is made from steeping the dried immature leaves of the Camilla Sinensis Tea Bush. White tea is frequently consumed for its presumed health benefits as an anti-ageing and promotes healthy and smooth skin.Green Tea - Green Teas are made from leaves of Camilla Sinensis Tea Bush and are put through a very short fermentation process.Oolong Tea - Oolong Teas are made by using a unique process of withering the leaves of Camilla Sinensis Tea Bush and using a special drying and oxidation process. Like other Chinese Teas, it has widely accepted health benefits.Black Tea - Black Tea leaves are put through the oxidation similar to several other types of tea, but it goes through the process longer and therefore the teas are much darker.Post-fermented/Pu’erh Tea - Post-fermented (e.g. Pu'erh) Teas are dark variety teas that are made from leaves that have gone through a unique process that exposes the freshly picked leaves to humidity and oxygen for an extended period, even longer than that of black teas. Puerh Tea is highly regarded in traditional Chinese medicine for its wide range of health benefits. Health Benefits of Chinese Tea:      Chinese Teas have been consumed by people in China and all over the world in centuries. While some people drink the tea for enjoyment, others drink it for one or more of the healthy benefits that come from drinking one or more cups of hot or even cold tea every day. Tea has both sweet and bitter flavours and possesses cooling properties. Tea helps to refresh the mind, enhance alertness and boost concentration. Tea can also promote body fluid production, quench thirst, clear heat and phlegm, promotes digestion and urination. It is good to drink Tea unsweetened or only lightly sweetened. Anti-inflammatory - Chinese Teas are loaded with Polyphenols which have anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties which help to reduce the risk of heart diseases.  Weight Loss - Tea, when consumed hot, is believed to be the best weight loss agent.Increased Muscle Endurance - The antioxidants in Green Tea help to fuel your energy and helps your body burn fat. It also helps in increasing the stamina.Cancer Protection - The high quantity of antioxidants have shown to be effective at warding off certain forms of Cancers like Breast Cancer, Prostate Cancer, Ovarian Cancer and Colon Cancer.Fights Free Radicals - The antioxidants found inside Chinese Teas helps to fight off the free radicals that are responsible for several health disorders like Cancer, Alzheimer's, Heart Diseases etc.,.Defends Bone Loss - Green Teas helps to improve bone strength and bone density.Regulates Blood Sugar levels - Several compounds found in Tea helps the body to metabolize sugars in a better way, which is excellent for people with type 2 Diabetes.  Boost Brain Power - Chinese Tea is believed to help ward off the effects of neurodegenerative diseases such as Alzheimer's and Dementia.  Healthy Teeth and Gums - Teas contain a naturally occurring Fluoride which helps to prevent plaque build-up which helps promote healthy gums and teeth.Anti-ageing Benefits -  The compounds in Chinese Tea are believed to slow down the ageing process.HOW TO BREW CHINESE TEA  CHINESE TEA      Few basic knowledge of Tea Brewing, a decent quality Tea & a bit of patience is all you need for a good Chinese Tea, any Tea as a matter of fact. The best Tea in the world can taste horrible if prepared incorrectly, but even an inexpensive Tea can be more satisfying if prepared in the best possible way.  So remember these 7 little facts before brewing any type of Teas.The quality of the Tea The quality of the Water Correct measurement Correct steeping temperature Correct steeping time Allowing the tea-leaf to expand fully Separating the leaf from the liquid at the end of the steeping process TEA  CHINESE TEA      Use the best tea that is available to you. Scoop the loose tea leaves from the tea canister. Measure the correct amount of tea & add it into the Teapot. This step is called "The black dragon enters the palace."WATER:When making any tea, try to use fresh & good quality water.  Water quality reflects greatly on the taste of the Tea. Always start with fresh water out of the tap, not water that has been previously boiled or has been sitting around.  First, use a small amount of heated water to warm the Tea Pot and Tea Cups before beginning to make your tea. To prepare the Chinese Tea, heat water in a kettle.  CORRECT MEASUREMENT:      The amount of Tea and Water will vary on the type of tea, its quality, and the size of the teapot, but generally, 1 Teaspoon of tea leaves for every six ounces/3/4 Cup of water will do. RIGHT WATER TEMPERATURE FOR TEA:      Different teas require different steeping temperatures. Using the wrong steeping temperature is probably the most common error people make when preparing tea. You can buy a thermometer to gauge temperature or if you are experienced enough can look for visual clues. Heating water to the proper temperature is important when making Chinese tea, and ideal temperatures vary by tea type.White and Green Tea - 77-85 °Celsius/172–185° Fahrenheit Black Tea - 99 °Celsius/210 °Fahrenheit Oolong Tea - 85 - 100 °Celsius/185–212 °Fahrenheit Pu’erh Tea - 100 °Celsius/212° Fahrenheit BREWING THE TEA  CHINESE TEA      Raise the kettle at shoulder-length, and pour the hot Water into the Teapot over the tea leaves. The water should be poured just above the teapot to not remove the flavour from the tea leaves too quickly. After pouring the water, scoop away any excess bubbles or tea leaves. Place the lid on the teapot.BREWING TIME: The size of the tea leaves and their quality determine the length of the steeping time. A whole-leaf tea is steeped longer and high-quality tea has a shorter brewing time. Green Tea - 30 Seconds to 3 Minutes Black Tea - 3 to 5 Minutes Oolong Tea - 30 Seconds to 10 Minutes Pu’erh Tea - 45 Seconds to 10 Minutes ROOM FOR THE TEA LEAF TO EXPAND: All teas require room for the leaf to expand greatly in size as it steeps. Make sure there is enough room for the leaf to expand up to 3-5 times in size. SEPARATING THE LEAVES: After the tea has steeped the proper length of time, separate the leaves from the brewed Tea. Most teas will turn bitter if steeped too long. SERVING THE CHINESE TEA  CHINESE TEA         Gently transfer the brewed Teas from the Tea Pot or from a jug into the Tea Cups.It's finally time to drink the tea. Good etiquette dictates that tea drinkers cradle the cup with both hands and enjoy the tea’s aroma before taking a sip. Traditionally, the cup should be drunk in three sips of different sizes. The first sip should be small; the second sip is the largest, the main sip; the third is to enjoy the aftertaste and empty the cup.  Enjoy The Pure Goodness of Chinese Teas!!!Wishing all my Chinese Friends a Happy Chinese New Year!"Gong Xi Fa Chai" Newer Post Older Post

[jimmydemaret]

Pinemeadow Golf Men's PGX Putter

Pinemeadow Golf Men’s PGX Putter

The very best Golf Putters Mens Right Hand. Pinemeadow Golf Men’s PGX Putter.

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[redheadgleekfic]

these inconvenient fireworks - chapter 10

Title: these inconvenient fireworks Fandom: glee Link: FF.net (T rated version). AO3. Tumblr. Warnings: None apply. Rating: Mature to explicit. (we finally earn it!). Pairings: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, very slight Kurt/Adam at the beginning.

Written for the @fandomtrumpshate 2020 charity auction for @sunshineoptimismandangels. Completed as part of the @wipbigbang project. Artwork by kaydrew86/aaweth-edain. Thanks to @snarkyhag, @wowbright, and @slowcookedwriting for their handholding, cheerleading, and betaing of this fic. This fic really did require a village.

Summary: After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to fake-date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for the dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

Read the tenth and final chapter on AO3, the safe for work version on FF.net, or click below to continue reading on tumblr.

*

“Fifteen minutes until curtain!”

“Shit!”

“You’ve got this.” Blaine murmurs encouragingly, his voice pitched low and calm. “Eyes closed. Keep breathing in through your nose … hold 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and out through your mouth, 2, 3, 4. And again. In…. hold…. out.”

The women of the chorus cluster around him, dressed in their black and white habits of the first act, holding hands as they breathe. For some, it’s their first professional performance and sudden nerves had cropped up when he had gathered them for a quick vocal warm-up.

He takes them through the routine of singing scales, gives them a lozenge, and guides them through the meditative breathing as their anxiety decreases. “Alright, you can breathe normally and open your eyes.”

He looks at each one of his girls and his eyes become a little misty. “You are going to be marvelous tonight.” He tells them. “Your hard work these last few months has paid off and look at where you are. You deserve this. I am so proud of you. Now go kick butt.”

He hugs each of them fiercely, sending them to their spot to wait for the curtain to rise and putters around the little alcove just off the stage, where he has water, tea with honey, lemon slices, and throat lozenges set up to soothe their throats in between performances.

Brad is conducting the orchestra tonight—he and Blaine will switch off conducting performances after this—so there isn’t much for him to do doing the performance itself, other than supporting his cast and reassuring them against last minute nerves. Blaine’s restless as he flits backstage, their collective nervousness rubbing off on him, but he’s also confident in their abilities.

Blaine honestly can’t process how much his life has changed in the last two weeks. He and Brad had managed to create an orchestral version of his song and got it recorded in the studio in two days, a feat that Blaine’s still not sure how they managed. He now has an agent recommended by Wes, Santana Lopez, who has a sharp mind and equally sharp tongue. With her help, he’s been navigating the multiple recording deal offers that have cropped up—going viral means that everybody is eager to sign him, but with Santana’s help, he’s making sure that he’s doing what he wants to do.

Mercedes and Marley have also taken him under his wing. During the final weeks of dress rehearsals, they were on set much more frequently, so Blaine has been able to make sure there were no lingering hard feelings with the addition of his song. He’s had dinner with them a couple of times where they’ve talked about the pitfalls of composing music and navigating the complex music scene. Blaine’s grateful that he has the play’s opening to focus on, which allows him a touch of breathing room while he contemplates his future career.

“Knock, knock.” A voice says behind him, jolting him from his thoughts. .

Blaine whirls around. “Hi! Why aren’t you on stage? They’re calling for you.”

Kurt waves away his concerns with one hand. “Oh, I know. I just wanted to give you this first.” He whips out a bouquet of red and yellow roses from behind his back. “To thank you for all that you’ve done for me. These are to celebrate you.”

“Kurt.” Blaine breathes, clutching the flowers close. “They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to—"

“I know. But I wanted to.”

“I should be the one giving you flowers.” Blaine protests lightly. “You’re the star. You’re going to be amazing out there tonight.”

“But I wouldn’t be if not for you. I wouldn’t be half as prepared without your guidance.” Kurt insists.

Blaine pulls Kurt into a hug, careful not to crush either his roses or Kurt’s costume. “Thank you.” He whispers into Kurt’s neck and Kurt clutches him closer. He pulls back slightly to meet Kurt’s ocean-deep eyes. “I… meant what I said, the other day at Callbacks. Your belief in me saved me, Kurt.”

Kurt dips his head, bumping their foreheads together. “You saved me too.”

For a long moment, Blaine doesn’t move as he drinks in the imprint of Kurt’s warmth, his hand tightly pressed against his back, his smell from his cologne and shampoo and mouthwash. It’s heady in its intimacy and Blaine wishes he could stay here forever.

He can’t though. He can’t offer anything more than friendship to Kurt and stay true to himself and he knows this. There’s attraction simmering between them—that’s not the issue. He can’t have an open relationship as much as he wants to date Kurt. He’s letting his emotions get away from him, like he did at Callbacks when he exposed his heart by singing to Kurt. Thankfully, Kurt’s partner’s sudden illness had brought Blaine back to his senses. It’s not fair to him or to Kurt.

“Your friendship means everything to me.” He breaks away with a small laugh and cough before he does something very foolish. “Are you okay, though?” Blaine asks lightly when he can trust his voice not to betray his emotions. “It can’t be easy going on stage when your partner is so sick. Have they left the hospital yet?”

“They’re much better, but I- I’m not dating Chaz.” Kurt says slowly.

“Oh, is it like a branch then? A V? I’m afraid I’m not up to date with my polyamory terminology.” He laughs again, trying to keep the strain out of his voice.

“Blaine.” Kurt steps closer. “I’m not dating either of them. Elliott and Chaz have been in a relationship for years, although after this scare, they’re talking marriage now for legal protections. They’re poly, that’s true, but I’m not.”

“But I thought, you and Elliott—"

“I know.” Kurt bites his lip nervously. “It’s a long, ridiculous story and I’ll tell you all of it, but… I’m not dating anybody right now.”

“Oh.” Blaine says. “Oh. I’m not either.”

“Yeah?”

“Then, um—"

“Kurt!” Adam gestures wildly at them from the hall, breaking the moment. “Come on. Unique’s looking for you. We need to be in spots now.”

Kurt huffs and shakes his head. “We keep getting interrupted. Later?”

“Later.” Blaine promises. On an impulse, he leans in and kisses Kurt lightly, sealing the promise. “Break a leg.”

Kurt blinks at him as he backs away, with those luminous, shiny eyes. “Yeah. Later.”

*

The show is incredible. Not that Blaine ever doubted that it wouldn’t come together, but it’s better than he could have dreamed. The actors all perform superbly without a missed word or hitched note and the audience reacts with gasps and loud laughter. Kitty’s song about politicians keeping their hands out of medicine seems to be an unexpected hit given the spontaneous standing ovation she receives. Tina’s Sister Marigold is saucy and sweet and Adam’s no-nonsense and sensible David is the perfect balance to the inane premise.

But it’s Kurt who steals the show. His Brian is endearing, bitingly humorous, and emotionally vulnerable, and the audience hangs on to every word he says. The crowd is silent when he sings “Wanted” for the first time, his clear voice reaching to the rafters, and Blaine wipes away tears when they explode with applause. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of Kurt singing his song.

Ryan Durphy comes to the stage at curtain call, along with Mercedes Jones and Marley Rose. “I believe in the power of theater to change hearts.” He says simply to thunderous applause. “This is what you have witnessed tonight and I thank you for opening our hearts and welcoming us in.”

“We want to give a special recognition to the people behind the scenes who make musical magic as they are often overlooked.” Tina says as the applause dies down. “Please give a round of applause to our set designers, our costume designers, our choreographers, and our lighting and tech crew.”

“Unique Adams, our amazing stage director,” Kurt continues and looks back directly at Blaine with a bright smile, “and our music directors, Brad Ellis and Blaine Anderson.”

There’s a hand suddenly at his back shoving him through the curtains and Blaine stumbles out into the bright spotlight with Unique. She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze.

“Even with the most talented of performers, these productions are impossible without their talent and hard work. It’s been an honor to work with them.” Kurt finishes with applause of his own and beckons them to take a bow of their own and Kitty hands him and Unique matching bouquets of irises and leans down to give one to Brad, who, true to himself, manages to look both stunned and disappointed at the gesture, but Blaine spies Brad wiping his eyes surreptitiously.

It’s a tangle of hugs and kisses backstage as everybody laughs and the champagne is poured. He loses Kurt in the chaos of congratulations being shared. Ryan shakes his hand somberly and tells him that he looks forward to future collaborations, which he recognizes as high praise from the mogul.

The mingling cast slowly disappears to the dressing rooms to get ready for the cast party. After retrieving his present stored in his locker, Blaine makes his way down the hallway, his flowers clutched in his hand, thinking back to the time just a few months ago, when he had taken a stranger’s hand to find the rehearsal room.

He knocks on the dressing room door. “Come in!” Kurt calls brightly, as if he were expecting him. Maybe he was.

Blaine firmly shuts and locks the door behind him. It feels a little presumptuous, perhaps, but it gives him something to do as he gathers his courage.

He turns around and his mouth goes dry.

Kurt’s half dressed, tight black jeans snug at his hips, and shirtless. The string of candle lights around the mirror make his pale skin glow. His face is cleaned of the heavy stage make-up and he is … beautiful.

Blaine coughs and manages to keep his eyes on Kurt’s face. “Congratulations on tonight, Kurt. You were as amazing as I thought you would be. Here.” He thrusts the tube towards him. “For you.”

“For me?” Kurt opens the tube and pulls out the papers inside.

“It’s your song. ‘Wanted’. They’ve, um, printed it, of course, with the rest of the score, but this is the first version I wrote, that we worked on together. I thought you might like to have it.”

Kurt stares for a long moment at the papers, sliding his fingers over the familiar notes. He carefully puts the music back in the tube and sets it on the table. He takes Blaine’s bouquets from him, setting them on the table as well, and then, Kurt places a hand on Blaine’s jaw and kisses him.

Blaine had expected the kiss to be sex-crazed with all of the simmering pheromones sparking between them, but it’s tender instead. Kurt kisses Blaine slowly, softly pressing his lips to Blaine’s and coaxing them open to deepen the kiss with more pressure.

“You gave me a song.” Kurt says and kisses him again.

Blaine tilts his head under Kurt’s seeking lips. His hands move up Kurt’s sides, feeling the heat from his skin, trying to draw him closer.

Kurt breaks the kiss and Blaine whines, chasing after his lips. “Wait, wait.” Kurt says, leaning away. “Just tell me, you’re not dating Tina, right?”

Blaine stares at Kurt’s mouth dumbly, trying to process the words. “Tina’s my roommate.”

“Right.”

“She’s hooking up with Mike.”

“Oh! Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“I’m gay.”

“Oh, good.”

“You didn’t know I was gay?”

“I didn’t want to presume. There’s more than one type of sexuality, you know. Bi. Pan. And you two were so close.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, kissing him again, “I have been wanting to do this,” another kiss, “for weeks and I couldn’t because I thought you wanted a polyamorous relationship.” He presses his lips against Kurt’s firmly, before dragging them down his jaw and sucking a kiss just below his ear.

“That’s our problem then,” Kurt says breathlessly, “we presume too much.”

Blaine kisses that spot again. “I presume,” he says with a low laugh, “that you like it when I do that.”

“Blaine. Oh. Oh…” Kurt turns into putty as Blaine continues to suck at his jawline while stroking his hands up and down over Kurt’s soft skin. His breath becomes more ragged in Blaine’s ear as Blaine coaxes out little gasps of pleasure. Kurt pushes his body more firmly between Blaine’s legs and Blaine gasps again at the feel of Kurt’s strong, warm body against him.

Blaine’s eyes catch on Kurt’s nipple, dusky against his white skin, and he bends down to brush his tongue over it. Kurt digs his fingers into the loosening curls at the back of Blaine’s neck, encouraging him on. Blaine licks the pinkening nipple again, before pulling back to rest his hands on Kurt’s hips.

Kurt’s lips are reddened, glistening in the light, looking thoroughly kissed. “No... Why’d you stop? Come here.”

Blaine rubs his hands just above the waistband of Kurt’s pants, caressing the soft skin overlying his hip. “May I? Please? I want to touch you. Please.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Kurt pants and surges in for another kiss, arms winding around Blaine’s shoulders.

Blaine manages, somehow, to undo Kurt’s buttons and get the zipper down. He’s too intoxicated by Kurt’s taste and sound to be able to figure out how to get the pants off and he needs more of Kurt’s body against him now.

Blaine breaks the kiss. “Turn around?” Blaine asks. “So I can touch you better.”

Kurt gives him another lingering kiss, and then slowly, seductively spins around. Blaine slides his arms around Kurt’s waist, rubbing his hand against Kurt’s abdomen and feeling the muscles contract underneath the soft skin with his touch, while pressing kisses along the knobs of Kurt’s spine. Blaine slides his hand down into Kurt’s underwear, allowing Kurt’s cock to rest fully in his palm, before reaching further down and rolling Kurt’s balls between his fingers until they draw up tight. Kurt whines, taking advantage of the changed position to shove his pants and underwear down his hips, all while Blaine keeps a steady grip on Kurt’s stiffening dick, so perfectly enveloped by Blaine’s hand.

There’s too much distance between them. Blaine needs Kurt on him, against him, surrounding him.

Blaine shuffles them back the short distance towards the loveseat. “Can we?” Blaine says, nudging Kurt’s hip and gesturing to the sofa.

“You’ve got my dick in your hand. I’ll follow you anywhere.” Kurt jokes and Blaine huffs in delighted surprise.

Blaine slumps down on the sofa with a completely ungraceful thump. He tugs on Kurt’s hip, urging Kurt down on top of him as Blaine shifts to lean more fully on the loveseat. Kurt goes easily, landing on Blaine’s lap with a soft moan. Blaine’s own hips buck up involuntarily as Kurt’s bare ass rubs with firm pressure against his own straining, but clothed cock. He contemplates briefly having Kurt get up again so he can remove his own pants and let his cock fully nestle between Kurt’s ass, but with Kurt against his chest, he can’t let go of Kurt long enough to do so.

It’s incredibly intimate this position, Kurt sprawled across his chest, bracketed between Blaine’s arms and legs. Blaine can feel every gasp that Kurt makes—every shudder that Kurt has vibrates across Blaine’s body, feeding his own heightening desire.

Blain pumps Kurt’s cock, hot and heavy in his hand, a living visualization of Kurt’s aroused state. He marvels at the way Kurt reacts to Blaine’s touch: his abdominal walls tightening, his shaft thickening, and his breathing becoming rapid and shallow, and his hands, gods, his hands! The way that Kurt restlessly brings them up to comb through Blaine’s curls, then drags them slowly across his nipples and belly before resting them on top of Blaine’s hand, directing Blaine in how to grip his cock—Blaine doesn’t think he could ever get enough of seeing Kurt in the throes of desire. Blaine twists his hand faster to heighten Kurt’s response, his other hand moving to rub against Kurt’s nipple. Kurt arches his head back on Blaine’s shoulder, allowing Blaine access to that spot on his neck again that keeps Kurt trembling in his arms.

“Oh,” Kurt breathes, his fingers buried again in Blaine’s curls as Blaine mouths again at his neck, “oh, honey, that’s… feels so good.”

Blaine drags his thumb across the tip of Kurt’s erection, coating it with the gathering liquid, as he alternates rubbing against the head with firm twists of his wrist around the shaft. Kurt’s orgasm is close, Blaine can tell, as his breathing is more erratic and his cock is so erect and thick and beautiful in Blaine’s fist and—

“Kurt!” A sharp knock sounds at the door, freezing them both in their compromising position. “It’s Mercedes! Do you have a moment to chat before we go out?”

“Can we… do that another time, Mercedes?” Kurt says, his voice high and breathy. “I’m still getting dressed.”

Blaine twists his hand again, slower but not letting Kurt cool down. He’s thankful that he took the time to lock the door, but with Kurt so close, he’s not letting anyone interrupt them now.

“Of course. I just wanted to talk about a possible collaboration between you, Blaine, and Marley and me.”

“That sounds great. I’d love to hear more about it. Later!”

“Speaking of Blaine, have you seen him? I haven’t had a chance to talk about my idea with him either.”

“I’ll let him know when I see him.” Kurt says and Blaine kisses his neck again. If Blaine hadn’t been watching the way Kurt is falling apart in his lap, his chest blotched pink with passion and his muscles quivering as he squirms and wriths against Blaine’s aching dick, Blaine never would have guessed from the way he answers Mercedes. Blaine forces back a groan.

“Sounds good, boo!” Mercedes answers and they listen to her walking down the hall.

“You are wicked, Mr. Anderson.” Kurt twists his head to kiss Blaine hard.

“You love it.”

“I do.” And Kurt’s voice is soft as he shifts and trails his finger down Blaine’s nose and across his lips. “I do love it.”

Blaine stills as Kurt brings their mouths together again, achingly sweet and tender. Blaine loses himself again in Kurt’s kiss, feeling precious and … loved.

“You need to get that hand back on my dick, Blaine,” Kurt huffs against his lips, “or I swear- Oh! Gods, yes, right there. Yes. Please.”

“I’ve got you, love.” Blaine murmurs, rubbing his fingers under the sensitive ridge before gripping Kurt’s shaft again. Kurt whimpers and twines his fingers through Blaine’s, wrapping them both tight around his cock. Blaine tweaks again on that pretty nipple and that seems to be the trigger.

Kurt shudders deliciously with his orgasm. Blaine can’t take his eyes off of Kurt—his eyes closed and his mouth slack with pleasure and a faint sheen of sweat across his collarbone.

Blaine caresses his hand over Kurt’s rib cage as Kurt comes down from his orgasm, keeping his other hand loose on Kurt’s dick, loving the way it softens in his hand. He presses another open kiss on Kurt’s neck.

“Mmm.” Kurt says affectionately, loose in Blaine’s arms as he pets at the curls on the back of Blaine’s neck. “That was delightful.”

Blaine smiles and kisses his temple. “It was.”

Kurt shifts and climbs off of Blaine. Blaine pouts as he shimmies his pants back up his hips, tucking his cock back in. “We have to go.” Kurt says.

“Oh. Okay.” Blaine tries to will his swollen dick down and sits up.

Kurt pushes him back down. “But—" he says, tossing a throw pillow off the sofa and placing it under his knees "—I think we’ll let them wait a minute more. Aren’t stars supposed to be fashionably late?” He shoves Blaine’s shirt up and his pants down with two quick moves that leaves Blaine dumbfounded and so very horny.

“Wait,” Blaine says and digs out his wallet from his back pocket that’s now at his knees. He pulls out a condom and hands it to Kurt, who smirks widely at him. “What? I was a boy scout.”

Kurt smiles mischievously as he rolls the condom down and follows it with his mouth. “And so very prepared,” he lifts up to say before going down again. Blaine throws his head back at the sensations as Kurt licks and sucks and worships his dick. God, Blaine loves this man.

It doesn’t take long, as his arousal has been stoked with Kurt’s reactions over the last several minutes and he burns with Kurt’s touch. Molten heat pools in his groin, everything tightening in preparation. “I’m—"

Kurt spreads his legs further, adding a hand to grip Blaine’s aching dick. His other hand plays with Blaine’s balls and the skin just below. In one smooth move, Kurt hollows his cheeks, sucking deeply, while he rubs purposefully over Blaine’s asshole and that does it. Blaine’s belly seizes as his orgasm crests, his cock pulsating in Kurt’s hot, perfect mouth, and for several seconds, Blaine’s not sure he is aware of anything except the points where Kurt is touching him.

Kurt slowly releases Blaine from his mouth and removes the condom. He strokes his fingers up and down Blaine’s dick as Blaine drifts back into awareness. Kurt places a tender kiss on the tip of his softening cock and another on his hip.

Blaine tugs on Kurt’s arms, desperately pulling him up and across his legs so he can kiss Kurt again. He breaks the kiss and runs his fingers across Kurt’s jaw and down his impossibly long arms, before entwining their fingers together. “I haven’t done that since I was a teenager.” He laughs, a little bashfully now that the fiery passion has banked a little. “That was—”

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Kurt presses a kiss to his cheek and pushes himself up and off of Blaine. He holds his hand out. “We really do need to be going, though.”

“Okay.”

“Come home with me? After the party?” Kurt asks. “I mean. We could go for breakfast if you’d like. And I could show you my neighborhood.”

“I want everything with you.” Blaine says and kisses him again. “Everything.”

Their clean up is giddy as Kurt wipes off his chest and Blaine’s dick while Blaine pulls up his pants. “In you go, little Blainers. I’ll see you again soon.” Kurt pats the bulge affectionately before Blaine does up the zipper and Blaine can’t help laughing.

They keep stopping for more kisses as Blaine straightens his clothes and then seeks Kurt’s mouth again.

Kurt finally pushes him off. “You are too distracting. You and that perfect mouth.” He grins as he pulls up his shirt.

Blaine steps in close again. “Let me.” He says softly and buttons it up, brushing his fingers against Kurt’s collarbone, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. They lace their fingers together as they walk out of the dressing room.

They’re just to the stage door, the sound of a loud crowd seeping through the door. Blaine starts to push it open.

Kurt stops him. “You know, it was just about a year ago when I was standing here because The Boy from Oz was closing and I was so sad. I didn’t know what I was going to do.” He smiles at Blaine, that wonderful slow blossom of a smile that wrinkles the corner of his eyes. “A year ago, I didn’t know that I was going to get you.”

He squeezes Blaine’s hand and kisses him again, before pushing the door open and greeting their fans.

The End.

*

Click for the story soundtrack made by Kay.

*

Author end notes: And it's finished. Thank you so much for your likes, comments, and reblogs - I cherish each one of them and several of them have caused me to make a few edits and add details, so this story would not be what it is without them.

Special thanks again to my WIP Big Bang artist, kaydrew86, for the lovely art and soundtrack. Go listen now!

Last Chapter

[bunkershotgolf]

Kalea Premier by TaylorMade

By ED TRAVIS

Kalea, the women-specific brand from TaylorMade Golf, has added updated models tagged Kalea Premier being sold as an 11-piece set including a cart bag with a 14-way top.

Fast Facts Kalea Premier Driver C4 swing weight, 12.5° loft 44.25 inches length Carbon fiber crown & sole 22g steel rear back weight Fairway wood 20° loft 37% larger face than previous model Low center of gravity Rescues 5 Rescue 27° loft 6 Rescue 31° loft High launch weighting Irons 7-iron through sand wedge Cavity back–Cap Back design Lofts: 7-iron 32°, pitching wedge 45° Putter Mallet style Pure Roll face 3° loft Kalea Premier Cart Bag 14-way top Seven pockets Choice of light grey, navy/light grey, black

WYNTK TaylorMade has been quick to recognize the female segment of the golf equipment market as both significant and quickly growing and has updated their Kalea brand for women with the new Premier models. Price for the set of 10 clubs plus a cart bag is $1699.99 placing it in the mid-range for top-of-the-line clubs and $200 more than the older (2020) Kalea set.

Tomo Bystedt, Senior Director for TaylorMade for Carbonwoods & Metalwoods said in the announcement, “Kalea Premier is a combination of proven TaylorMade technologies, which are tuned specifically to give women in these segments the best performance, and the most visually stunning designs on the market. Our research has shown that women will no longer accept a half-hearted approach to product design in any industry. We’ve been continuously mindful of this and have created a design language that utilizes a combination of rich colors and refined textures with premium materials to create a sophisticated and elegant product line for women.”

It’s refreshing to see a major company introduce quality club models into the women’s market that are not men’s clubs from two years ago with pink trim. Kalea Premier will be in stores October 14, 2022.

[nienna-talks-asscreed]

We deserve a return to the writing of The Kenway Saga

I was in the mood for a bit of a ramble on Assassin's Creed, so here, have some thoughts I wrote out in one sugar-fueled sitting:

I have a theory. When it comes to big franchises with a bunch of entries spanning a decent period of time, peoples’ opinions are largely affected by when they first interacted with it. So, when it comes to Assassin’s Creed, you can separate things out into eras, and I wouldn’t be surprised if peoples’ favorite parts of the franchise line up with how they first started playing. The Desmond Story (or the Ezio Trilogy, if you want to separate further), the Kenway Saga, the Initiate Duology (Unity and Syndicate), and the RPG era/Layla Trilogy. Or, to be more general, Old School vs. New School. Personally? I started out (in 2020, mind you, just so there’s no confusion, because yes, I started this franchise as something to do between pandemic and post-college panic) with the Ezio Trilogy, and that’s got a very special place in my heart. Honestly, I’ve yet to have another Video Game Moment that matches up with the ending of Revelations – that shit is magical, let me tell you. Those games are always going to mean a lot to me.

But maybe the actual title of this post just got really confusing, right there. After all, wasn’t I gonna talk about the Kenway Saga? That intro sounds like it’s pushing towards the Ezio Trilogy, right? Well, I mean, yes, it definitely does. But here’s the thing. While I’ll always hold a lot of love for the Ezio games, the longer I’ve sat on this franchise and thought about it, the more I truly, genuinely appreciate the Kenway Saga for what it did. Which is to say, it became the most interesting part of the franchise, full stop.

Now, backstory time, I played these games wrong. Rogue was the fourth game in the franchise I played, right after finishing the Ezio Trilogy, and it’s remained my favorite game of the bunch to this day. Then I played a few more things before working back to Black Flag (and Freedom Cry), which I would personally consider the best game of the franchise. Then there was a bit more puttering around before I finally made my way back to Assassin’s Creed III, about which I had more complex (albeit, still largely positive – don’t misquote me) thoughts. But after sitting on these particular games for a while – a time that included playing both Origins and Odyssey (not Valhalla, because boy do I wish I was more excited about that one) – and letting the connections finally form, given I 100% did not play them chronologically, the more I wish Ubisoft actually returned to that era of the franchise. And not just for the mechanics (personally, I don’t see the problem with RPG skill trees) or the storytelling (granted, see my Odyssey review for my thoughts on that), but for what the franchise was actually trying to do. The way, I think, at least, it was trying to reinvent itself.

See, most of the franchise tends to feel fairly black and white, maybe even more so due to the popularity of the Ezio Trilogy. As much as I do love those three games, their philosophy… isn’t the most interesting. They’re still fantastic, but they are carried entirely by the strength of their lead character, and supported by a cast of frankly iconic side characters. That is not a criticism at all – these games have stood the test of time – it’s just how I see it. That said, in comparison, the original Assassin’s Creed is more interesting on the philosophical front; hell, Unity has more shades of it, even if, personally, I think it fails to stick the landing on that front.

The Kenway Saga, though, takes the morally gray aspects of the franchise and sticks them front and center. They aren’t a side part of the story, implied as part of the journey of the main character; they are the story. And in a franchise that’s so heavily leaned on the whole “Templars bad, Assassins good” form of moving plot, this ends up being a fascinating study of this world and the people who inhabit it. No one here is purely good or bad. Everyone is just a person, trying to navigate this complicated world and the complicated decisions it throws at them.

And the funny thing is that the Kenway Saga games all do this in different ways.

Black Flag gives us Edward Kenway, someone who is entirely outside of this Assassin and Templar structure, and even when he gets pulled into that world, he has no intention to interact with it the way every other protagonist does. He’s, objectively, not a good person (which, to be fair, is what makes him an interesting character), and over the course of his story, the Assassins and Templars aren’t ever the main plot. They’re more like set dressing, a way to further Edward’s arc as he realizes what he’s done. And that’s “they” plural, because it’s not really just the Assassins that do it. Yes, he does join them in the end, and they’re instrumental to him looking for redemption, but then there are characters like Hornigold, Templars who make strong points to support their allegiance, and who force Edward to reconsider what he’s doing. Or Torres, someone with honor and dignity who recognizes and respects Edward’s decision to join the Assassins, even if he doesn’t personally agree. Far from mustache-twirling villains. Or, for that matter, there are people entirely outside of that conflict who have major effects on Edward and his shifting perspectives: Thatch and Bonnet, for example. It’s a purely character-based narrative, and one where the Assassins and Templars really take a hard backseat.

Freedom Cry feels like it takes us closer to the old narrative, given that Adewale is a character defined much more by his strong morals, especially in contrast to Edward. He feels more like what you’d expect from this franchise and how it works. And then that’s immediately challenged. What looked like a story with these bad Templars turns into a narrative where Adewale works with the Templars instead and sees that, really, these two groups can share many of the same goals. It’s not about deciding who’s in the right, but putting that aside so that the world can be a better place for everyone involved. And, really, maybe things would be better off if both sides could forget that conflict entirely. (So, basically, it’s kind of doing what Unity maybe intended, but better. And without the romance to muddle things.)

Then Rogue goes a completely different route by flipping the script. Shay is very much an Assassin’s Creed protagonist, but one who is presented with very different choices. Because, while it might seem like this game is still black and white, just in the other direction, I have to argue that it isn’t quite that simple. Really, Rogue is kind of the slap in the face that this franchise needed. The Assassins aren’t always just the good guys; they are fallible, just like anyone else. They can fall victim to dogma and put on the horse blinders so effectively that they lose sight of the bad effects their good intentions are having; they want to protect the world from the control of the Templars, but become destructive puppetmasters in their own way. Shay doesn’t really ascribe to these high-minded ideals in general (whether that’s with the Assassins or the Templars, I would argue) and is much more intent on just doing right, and making things noticeably better for the people. He sits a little bit outside of that big philosophical debate, which really gives us a very different perspective on what it all means: what’s the point of starting a war between your ideals when innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire? (Believe me, I have many, many more thoughts on this game and the Irish boy, but I’ll save that for a more appropriate time and place.)

(Admittedly, I haven’t played Liberation yet, so feel free to imagine I added something insightful here about that game.)

Then there’s Assassin’s Creed III, where it all started. This game is very much a case where the message is the story, and while that’s usually not my cup of tea, it’s presented through the lens of excellent characters. Connor is young and idealistic and wants to believe that the Assassins and the promise of freedom will fix everything – the way the Assassins kind of function in general. Haytham is more cynical, but has a much more nuanced view of the nature of this whole conflict. Freedom isn’t just dangerous to those in charge, but dangerous in general. He explains the Templar ideology in a way that suddenly makes sense. And so Connor’s view becomes more nuanced in response, on top of simply being tragic. The people he helps in the pursuit of freedom – of the Assassin ideal – eventually become much more interested in only their own problems. Those post-credits cutscenes make that starkly clear, giving us nods to the continuation of the slave trade, as well as the treatment of Native Americans at the hands of the US government. And despite that, he chooses to hope for a happy ending he knows he may never see. It’s just sad, to put it simply, and the way forward is clearly complicated. Even if you fight for something that’s just, there’s no guarantee things will turn out for the better.

Oh, and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the entire opening segment: playing as Haytham and then suddenly realizing he was a Templar all along? Honestly, just that part sums up what makes Assassin’s Creed III so interesting. The lines blur to the point you start forgetting there was even a line there to begin with.

Taken all together, the Kenway Saga embraces the moral grayness in a way that the franchise never has – arguably before, but especially since. And while all of the other games have their merits – many of them being excellent games in their own rights – there’s food for thought here that keeps me thinking, and in the long term. While I love Assassin’s Creed II and Origins, I don’t end up thinking about them and the morals that they present. At least, not like I do with the Kenway games.

I want those morally gray spots back. I want to be forced to think, especially in this franchise with its basis in this philosophical conflict. There’s just so much room to do things that are truly interesting. Of course, I have my doubts whether this will happen; it does seem more likely we’ll just be getting big action-adventure RPGs. If nothing else, I know we’ll never be returning to this point in history (even if the lack of a Connor/Shay/Arno crossover story is an absolute crime). But hey, this is the internet, so I can make my opinion known.

[ffwriterbts]

Lunar- BTS Werewolf AU Part 4

AN: As I’ve said before, if slowburn BTS werewolf AUs that have springlings of angst, smut, and fluff, this is the story for you! Other than that, please leave a like or comment so I know you’re enjoying the story!! The sections should start getting longer as I keep updating :) 

Also! Let me know if you want to be on a tag list for this story! 

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: General angst; slight medical talk; mental health issues; soulmate themes if you squint

Posted: 31 Dec 2020

Masterlist

Previous Next

When YN wakes up, she is lying in what looks like a fancy hospital room. Her shoulder is on fire, there’s an IV in her hand, her leg is propped up in an almost uncomfortable way, and all the rest of her feels like she was repeatedly hit by a cement truck. 

YN tries to sit up, but only makes it a few centimeters before pain wracks her body and she stops in her tracks. Her eyes snap shut and she takes a few deep breaths, doing her best to remember what happened and where she was.

And- nothing. YN doesn’t really remember anything that happened. 

That is, until Jin walks into the room, and everything hits her all at once- how Jin and Yoongi came to cook, how she was going back to the garden to grab her phone when a mystery wolf tried to harm her, how Yoongi transformed into a giant black wolf, how he fought for her, how Jin helped her. 

“I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon. Welcome back, YN.” Jin breaks the silence, and YN’s eyes snap up to him. 

“I-” YN starts, taking a second to collect her thoughts before continuing. “What happened to me?” Her voice is gruff, hoarse. 

“You were attacked.” Jin gives a little shrug before continuing, “Your shoulder was bitten, your ankle broken, you have three cracked ribs, and deep tissue bruising on the side with the bite. Other than that, you’re covered in scratches and bruises from the dragging and the nasty fall you took.” 

“Oh.” 

“Don’t worry, you have the same blood type as Jimin, and he was more than happy to donate for you. The wolf blood will have you healed by the end of the month for pretty much all of it. The ankle will take a little longer.” Jin shrugs again, going around and checking all of the monitors, making sure everything was good before he makes small talk with YN and helps her sit up, giving her water. 

Once he is sure she is as fine as she can be, he takes a seat at the end of the bed. YN can feel her ears get hot as she realizes that he has plenty of room, seeing as her legs don’t even reach three-fourths of the way down when she’s lying, much less when she’s sitting up. She doesn’t know why she feels this embarrassment, but she does anyway, and she silently hopes that Jin doesn’t know. 

“You must have questions, so why don’t I give you the full story?” Jin lightly pats where YN’s good foot is, smiling warmly at her. “If you want me to, of course.” 

“Please, I feel like I’m going crazy.” YN’s voice is much softer now, as she looks at him with those big, innocent eyes of hers, sipping water. 

“Well, I hope you’ve figured out by now that we are all werewolves.” Jin lets out a little laugh as YN nods softly. 

“We are a hidden race among humans, almost extinct. There are a few large groups over in America, there’s a couple here, a few somewhere in Europe, and a whole bunch over in Africa. There’s also a city of only wolves and special, trusted humans in China, which is also hidden from the world. We are bigger, faster, and stronger than even the very best human. We have the ability to change into wolves whenever we want, so long as we are fully healed.” Jin takes breath, looking to YN to make sure she was following along. 

YN nods, eyes trained on Jin as she listens, and he continues. 

“In order to survive, we had to breed with humans, muddle the gene pool. The fastest, strongest, largest of the humans, they are all part wolf. Our pack is one of the purest here, genetically speaking, but we would be considered basically human by our ancestors. But, to be fair, some humans are able to be welcomed into packs.” 

“Packs?” YN asks, head tilting slightly to one side as Jin smiles. 

“Yeah, like wolf packs. There are Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, which are basically what you think they are, though there is a lot more variation than you would think. Each designation is on a sort of scale, though that scale is not something that can easily be explained.” Jin gives another half shrug, glancing up at the IV, before standing and doing something that YN didn’t understand. 

“Here, let me get this changed so your body doesn’t starve or dehydrate. And I’ll let the rest of the boys know you’re awake, they’re excited to meet you and make sure you’re okay.” Jin clearly makes the move away from the subject of werewolves, and even though YN’s mind is swirling with questions, she doesn’t question the dropping of the subject. 

YN assumes (correctly) that any and all questions she possibly has will be answered in time, because something about the way Jin putters around the room doing this or that feels like coming home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next week, YN steadily gets better. Whatever it is about the werewolf blood that makes healing kick it up into overdrive was working better than expected, which all of the boys were grateful for. She had visitors every day, for most of the day, and she quickly got along with each of them. 

Jin, who YN found out was actually a fully licensed medical doctor and surgeon, mandated that the boys were only allowed to go and see her in pairs, so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. 

And thus, YN met Hobi and Jimin almost as soon as Jin opened the door to let the boys know she was accepting visitors. She could see who she would later find out to be Jungkook and Taehyung peaking in the doorway, wanting to be included but not being allowed to be. 

Both Hobi and Jimin very enthusiastically introduced themselves, taking no time at all to occupy the end of the bed that YN was far too short to occupy herself. Talking to them felt like talking to people she had known for years, and they had YN almost rolling with laughter within the first five minutes. 

It was almost an hour of not-so-patient waiting on behalf of Taehyung and Jungkook before Jin came back and kicked Hobi and Jimin out, scolding them half-heartedly for not letting the other two have their time yet. 

With quick apologies, those two boys slipped out of the room as two more replaced them. Again, just as enthusiastic, the two boys introduced themselves, and had YN in stitches almost too quickly. 

Without a second thought, YN is talking with them for almost two hours, before Namjoon comes in and cuts them off. He kicks the two youngest out of the room, telling them that YN needs to rest sometime, that she has to heal. 

Namjoon in turn takes the same spot at the end of the bed, but he is bearing gifts. Namely, the gift of her electronics from her home, a nice lap desk, and some of her very favorite sour candy.

“I figured you would want these things, seeing as you’ll be here for a while.” Namjoon smiles softly as he almost sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. 

“Oh, thank you!” YN is much more animated than she was even an hour ago, snatching the sour candies from Namjoon’s hand as quickly as she dares to, trying her best to open the bag without moving her one arm very much. 

“Do you want some help YN?” Namjoon’s voice is soft but deep, and YN nods without even a second’s hesitation, holding out the offending bag with a small pout. 

Namjoon just chuckles, making small talk as he easily opens the bag, carefully handing it to YN. She lets out a grateful sigh, carefully balancing the bag in her hurt hand, and throwing candies into her mouth. 

“How’d you know I like these?” YN asks absently, paying far more attention to the wonderful flavor than to Namjoon and his response. 

She was tired, her body was sore, and honestly, she was more excited for her candy and the prospect of a nice long sleep than she was about anything Namjoon had to say. That was, at least, until she actually heard the words that came out of his mouth. 

“Oh, we can read minds. We know all sorts of things about you.” His voice was that same even calmness, to the point that YN didn’t actually register what was said for almost a whole minute. 

“You… you what?” YN pauses and looks up at Namjoon, shock and confusion written so clearly on her face that Namjoon didn’t even need to read her mind to know exactly what she was thinking. 

“Hyung was supposed to tell you, but yes. It’s an innate ability of ours, and once you present you’ll probably be able to do the same.” Namjoon gives a little sort of half shrug as YN’s face just scrunches up more as she tries to fully process what Namjoon actually said. 

“I can see you’re confused.” Namjoon speaks again and YN rolls her eyes without taking a second to think about how that might be perceived. Sure, the men she had met had all been incredibly kind to her, but that doesn’t mean that they’re comfortable enough to start with the half-bratty sass that YN was known for with her close friends. 

“Yeah, I wonder why.” YN speaks for the first time, her eyes locking up onto Namjoons in a way that seemed out of character for the girl that he had begun to get to know. “It’s not like this is a lot to process or anything.” Sarcasm seems to drip from every pore like venom, and Namjoon pauses for the first time, slightly confused. Again, this was unlike the character that he had come to know as YN.

He’s sure YN doesn’t mean any harm by what she’s saying, that much is clear to him because of her thoughts, but he was under the impression that YN was just a sweet, mild mannered woman. Silently, Namjoon chides himself for allowing himself to believe that YN, a fully functioning adult woman, was something other than a three dimensional person with multitudes to her personality. 

“May I ask some clarifying questions?” YN asks after a short silence. For the first time, she felt slightly uncomfortable in the silence, wondering if she had actually offended Namjoon inadvertently. Usually, she tried to tame the more bratty side of her personality for fear of being hurt by someone she completely offended, and it seemed to hit her all at once that these men, who were already giant in comparison to her, also held an unknown strength.

YN’s fears are assuaged when Namjoon gives her a beautiful smile, nodding his head and motioning for her to ask away. 

“How much of my head can you see?” YN tilts her head to one side, not catching how strange her phrasing is until Namjoon lifts an eyebrow. By that point, too much time has passed for YN to really change her statement, and she can feel her ears getting hot as she waits for Namjoon to actually respond. 

“Well, any of us can read basically any thought you have. We can also access memories, though it is incredibly frowned upon to do so, as it is sort of like torture for the person whose mind you look into for that one. But, we can also teach you how to make sure we can’t see inside your mind, and when the door to the room closes, we can’t see into anyone inside the room.” Namjoon answers with a sort of practiced nuance, which is comforting to YN in a strange way. 

“Do you look at my thoughts all the time?” 

“No, of course not. That wouldn’t be fair, and honestly, we don’t really look in your mind at all. You do throw off emotion, but that’s different in the first place.” Namjoon gives that same little half shrug. 

“How’s it different?” YN’s voice is much softer now. There’s something about the way Namjoon speaks that makes her feel like she’s coming home. 

She shakes the feeling, instead trying to focus on what Namjoon has to say.

“When in the pack, emotions are shared and felt by the other members of the pack, to varying degrees. When it comes to other wolves, we are sensitive to their emotions and have a large amount of completely non-verbal communication. Part of why you’re so interesting to us is the fact that we can feel your emotions, though you clearly aren’t fully wolf.” Namjoon pauses, brow furrowed. 

“What does that mean?” YN’s expression turns to match Namjoons. 

“It means you’re one of us. But also that you’re not.” Namjoon brings a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure what it means, honestly. You smell like an Omega. You act like one, mostly. But you clearly won’t be able to turn once you finish presenting, you know nothing of our world or customs, you’re absolutely tiny.” 

YN shifts uncomfortably when Namjoon looks up at her, her ears heating up again, though she has no idea why she’s embarrassed. It’s not her fault she didn’t know about a hidden society of werewolves, after all. 

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something else, but the door opens and Jin steps in. 

“Namjoon, go separate Taehyung and Yoongi. They’re at it again. Both of them are acting like children.” Jin lets out a deep, exasperated sigh. “And you need to leave YN alone, she needs to heal. Didn’t you say the same thing to Tae and Kookie just a bit ago?” 

YN can’t help but smile softly at the familiar interaction, almost laughing when Jin shoos Namjoon out of the room. 

“As for you, Miss YN, you need to actually rest. Don’t be afraid to tell any of the boys to leave, they know full well that you are here to heal.” Jin gives YN a bright smile as he reaches behind her to make sure her pillows are arranged correctly. 

YN nods, a grateful smile on her features. “I’ll do my best to heal well, thank you.”  She speaks softly, her thoughts a jumbled mess after everything Namjoon told her, her prior annoyance and attitude melting away.

“Do you need anything else? It’s getting late enough I’m going to leave you, I know Namjoon set you up with your technology and chargers.” Jin stands in the doorway, facing YN. 

“No, thank you! I’m good until tomorrow.” YN answers quickly, arranging herself so she can rest comfortably for the night. 

“I’ll leave you then. If you need anything through the night, there’s a call button on the side there. Good night, YN.” 

“Good night!” YN calls, watching as Jin flicks off the light and closes the door. She then proceeds to lay there, in the strange bed, and stare up at the ceiling. 

It was a lot to process, everything that she’d been told. 

“I’m fucking crazy.” YN groans, sighing deeply and checking her phone for the first time in what could have been weeks. 

She was unsurprised to see that the only notifications she had were from her editor, sending back things for her to work on and asking for the corrections and newest works.

YN can’t help but sigh again, throwing her phone to one side and settling in better. She was thankful to the men who had saved her, and she knew somewhere deep down that she could trust them, but it was just a lot to deal with. 

What did it mean that she smelled like an Omega? What the fuck did it mean to present? What did Namjoon mean when he said that she threw off emotions? 

YN was confused, to say the least, but as she relaxed more and ignored the aches of her body, she realized just how tired she was. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, even with her mind swirling with question after question about what everything meant.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was three weeks before YN had the use of her arm back, her shoulder only stinging slightly when she actually used her arm properly. It was another month after that before YN could walk on her ankle, which had been almost shattered from the attack. And that whole time, YN was bonding with the boys. 

She quickly found that the three youngest were incredibly physically affectionate, which YN just adored. She quickly found herself curling up beside Jimin, playing with his hair and feeling completely enveloped in his arms. Or laying across Jungkook’s lap, laughing at his facial expressions as he played his games. Or jokingly having Taehyung carry her around, lovingly calling him her “trusty steed” from her perch on his back.

She found that Jin’s love language was acts of service, which usually translated into him cooking this or that for the group. YN quickly fell into the habit of helping Jin as much as she could sitting at (or on) the counter, laughing at his dad jokes and making some of her own. She made sure that Jin didn’t forget to serve himself as well, always sneaking some of the best parts that he gave to her back into his own portion.

She found that the best way to bond with Namjoon was to just talk to him, about anything and everything, especially philosophical topics. Both YN and Namjoon loved the debate of this or that, the exchange of ideas, the passion of discussing things that others find to be boring. They would spend hours sitting in the library and reading this book or that novel, just to discuss it as soon as both of them had finished, getting off topic in that special way that isn’t really off topic, if you think about it on a deeper level. 

She found that Hoseok loved to dance, loved to explore music and feel it through the movement of  his body. While YN wasn’t able to stand and actually dance with him, even though she would have loved to, she did suggest new songs for him to try making routines to, bringing him water and snacks every so often. He would always ask her to stay and watch, which she did, always giving him the biggest applause she could at the end of the beautiful dances, talking his ear off about her love for movement like that, even if she couldn’t ever really do it herself. 

She found, however, that it was with Yoongi that she felt the most at peace. She quickly gained access to his ever-so-exclusive “genius lab,” where he made his music. Most of the time, YN would work on her writing as Yoongi worked on his music, the studio space filled with the soft sounds of YN’s typing and the sounds of whatever Yoongi was working on. They didn’t need to talk, instead the two sat in silence most of the time, just enjoying the fact that there was someone else there who understood that being together was all that was really needed.

Every so often, Yoongi would spin around in his chair and capture YN’s attention, asking her to listen to something and give her opinions on what could be improved or changed to make the song sound better. While YN didn’t have a lick of musical experience, she was sensitive to sounds and could pick out parts that didn’t quite mesh correctly with ease, which is just what Yoongi needed. 

On the flip side, when Yoongi was taking a bit of a break to stretch, YN would ask him to make certain motions or how to say certain things in different accents to help her be able to write this or that out in a way that actually made sense. Her editor was praising the way her work was coming back with less mistakes and awkward parts, and YN was absolutely loving the way she and Yoongi got along. 

And yet at other points, when neither Yoongi nor YN could seem to focus long enough to get anything done, the two would lounge side by side on the couch and just talk. They never really had something specific to talk about, but YN would find herself opening up about things that she had never told anyone else. She would find herself listening intently to whatever Yoongi decided to open up about, carefully choosing her words in a way that was meant to make him feel better, without making it feel like she was dismissing the feelings that he had in the first place. 

It was a system that worked, with YN falling into the routine of the home far quicker than any of them would have ever expected.  She found joy in helping Jin cook, she felt loved at the unashamed touchiness of Jimin and Taehyung, and again in the much more shy touchiness of Jungkook, she found quiet appreciation in sharing music and watching Hobi, she felt wanted during the long conversations and debates with Namjoon, and she felt at peace with Yoongi. 

She felt like she was home.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But nothing can last forever, can it? YN knew just as much as the rest of the boys that she would have to go back to her own home eventually. 

And so, after two and a half months of living with the seven men, YN was taken back to her own home. 

Jin’s the one who drove her, with Namjoon riding shotgun. There was an aura of sadness the entire time, like none of them really wanted to go anywhere, but it wasn’t like YN could just move into their house. 

This wasn’t a movie or some crappy romance novel, after all. It was real life, and in real life, people don’t just pack up and move into the home of people who were basically strangers. 

The whole parting was quiet. YN couldn’t bring herself to actually say the word “goodbye” to either of the men who had come to make sure she got home safe, instead throwing her arms around their necks and giving them a good squeeze, wishing that she didn’t have to leave. 

The whole thing rang the same as the way she had parted with the other boys before the drive, the ache settling into her chest like someone had ripped out her heart and thrown it under the tires of the car as it pulled away, tears falling freely as a sharp longing settled in her stomach. 

It wasn’t until Jin and Namjoon left that YN actually cried, sobs tearing out of her throat as she crumbled to the ground, knees hitting the hardwood sharply. 

She had no idea how long she stayed there, feeling like there was a hole ripped into her very being, wishing for the comfort of Yoongi’s words, or Jimin’s wonderful hugs, or of Jin’s gentle prodding to “eat well.” 

Eventually, YN drug herself to her feet, stumbling to the kitchen and chugging some water before grabbing the bag she had borrowed to take her things back to her house, deciding she needed to put things away. 

“Why did I let them pack the bag?” YN groans, finding quickly that she is wholly unable to actually pick the bag up, and instead has to drag it to her room. She’s silently thankful for the wood floors because she can actually slide the bag. 

It isn’t until she gets to the last couple sweatshirts in the bottom of the bag that YN realizes she’d picked up a few presents from the boys. Shaking her head, she realizes why they had insisted on helping her in the first place, each of them had gifted her something small and they didn’t want her to refuse them, like they knew she would. The knowledge of how kind they were being was completely bittersweet, however, because they felt like “goodbye, at least remember us” presents.

From Jin she got the knife she quickly claimed was her favorite because it was the only one that was properly sized for her. There was a small note attached tha read “For my favorite kitchen helper, since it’s too small for me, -Jin” 

YN felt the tears well up in her eyes as she carefully set the knife to the side, not wanting to accidentally hurt herself. She then reaches back into the bag, wondering what else she might find. 

Hobi’s gift was next, giving her the one black headband of his that she always stole and jokingly wore around. It was wrapped around an adorable little teddy bear, with a note saying “For my favorite dancer, even if you couldn’t really do anything. Next time, I’m sure you’ll show me up -Hobi <3” 

Tears were flowing down her face now, but YN couldn’t stop looking for what was next, no matter what kind of feelings arose from it. 

Next she found one of the small figurines from Jungkook’s games, the one she always told him was her favorite because of it’s cool jacket. The note simply read “He might be your favorite, but you’re mine.”

YN smiled at the lack of signature, getting up and placing the figure on her nightstand, carefully angling it so it could watch over the room. Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, she reaches into the bag again, pulling out a gift that couldn’t have been from anyone but Namjoon. 

It was a book that was equal parts old and beautiful, and as YN ran her finger down the spine, she took out the note that was sticking out of the book. She wiped the tears from her face before she read the note, not wanting to drip tears onto it.

“Our Miss YN, 

Please don’t take this as a goodbye, but as a promise for the future. You’re just as important to us, to me, as we are to you. Remember us, remember the good, and look to when we can be together again. 

-Joon” 

It’s with this that YN starts sobbing again. They’re so sweet, those boys, and YN couldn’t help but feel almost lost without them. Her chest hurt like someone had shot her, a strong sort of longing that seemed endless settling into the pit of her stomach. 

It takes a while this time, before she can reach into the bag again. When she does, she almost immediately has renewed cries falling from her lips. 

She had pulled out the one super soft sweater of Jimin’s that she absolutely adored. She had told him that she was going to steal it from him whenever he wore it, twisting her fingers in the material and snuggling closer to him. It was soft, it smelled nice, and she knew that it would make her both look and feel tiny. 

There’s no note with this one, but YN can feel the love and sincerity behind the action, draping the sweater over her legs for the time being. She reaches into the bag again, smiling as she pulls out one of Taehyung’s million beanies, wrapped around a small toy horse. 

There is a note with this one, which simply reads “Horse.” It’s the most Taehyung thing YN can think of, and without a second thought, she places the horse next to the figurine, pulling the beanie on. 

She doesn’t find anything else immediately, taking a minute to put the things she had gotten in safe spots and going to put away the last couple hoodies, which she knew were hers. 

It isn’t until she reaches the last thing in the bag that she finds what Yoongi left her. At first, she thought it was just one of his hoodies, which she absolutely adored, but when she took it out to lay it next to the sweater Jimin had given her, something fell out of the folding. 

Quickly, YN picks up whatever fell, and finds that it’s a CD. She shakes her head, knowing that Yoongi would be the kind of person to share music as a gift. She sets the CD carefully on the bed, gathering up her shower supplies and a towel, both because she needed to take them back to her bathroom, and because she needed to actually shower. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Once she’s freshly showered, using Hobi’s headband to keep her hair out of her face, wearing nothing but the amazingly soft sweater Jimin left her, YN settles into her bed with a CD player she found, Yoongi’s hoodie layed out beside her. Now that she had calmed down, she could smell the boys on the things they had given her. She would have been lying if she said that it wasn’t incredibly comforting to have their scent around her. It made the gaping hole in her chest feel a little less bloody, for whatever reason. 

Pressing play, YN settles in, not knowing what to expect. Neither the CD nor the CD cover had any sort of writing on it, so YN had no idea what was going to be playing, or for how long. She can’t help the small smile that graces her face as Yoongi’s voice fills her space, speaking deep and slow in that comforting way YN loved. 

“YN, my lovely secret keeper. You’re hearing this now because the day has come that you had to go back to your own home. I know none of us want you to leave, and if your actions have anything to say about it, you don't want to go.

You know as well as I do that things don’t always work the way we want them to, though.  We will be coming to visit you, as much as we can. And we will keep an eye on you. 

YN, please listen to me when I tell you I won’t let anything happen to you. It broke my heart, letting you get hurt once. And I’m not sure what I would have done if Hyung and I weren’t there when you were attacked. 

If you need me, if you need any of us, we will be there. Always.” 

YN curls up in a ball, hugging Yoongi’s hoodie to her chest, breathing in his scent deeply. She knew that he meant every word, that he truly would never let anything happen to her on purpose, but she also felt abandoned by him. By all of them. 

She had spent the last ten weeks of her life talking to Yoongi or Namjoon when she felt bad. Going to Jimin or Taehyung for cuddles when she was lonely. Gaming with Jungkook when she was bored. Laughing with Jin while prepping meals. Doing what little dancing she could with Hobi when she was restless. Laughing as Taehyung insisted on carrying her from one room to another, even once she had healed enough to walk. 

She had spent the last ten weeks evening out their teams when they played games, singing off-key on karaoke nights, fielding Taehyung’s touchiness before he got on Yoongi’s nerves (because for some reason, Tae insisted on trying to cuddle Yoongi at every opportunity), celebrating with them, helping to clean the wolves if there was a fight, stealing blankets off of every surface she could, curling into the side of whoever sat beside her in the name of stealing their boundless warmth.

She had spent ten weeks creating a space for herself in their lives, in their home. And now, it was back to living in a house that was way too big for her, with nobody to keep her accountable. 

It was because of this that she cried herself to sleep, even the sound of Yoongi’s beautiful music filled the room. She missed them, more than anything. She felt like she was crying more than she ever had, and it had only been hours since she left their home.

What YN didn’t know was that the boys were missing her just as much back at their home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jin had decided to make a fancier meal than usual, because it would take more time and take his mind off of everything, but as he went about getting things done, he couldn’t help but miss seeing YN, perched precariously on the counter, babbling away about this or that as she carefully cut whatever needed to be chopped up. 

He internally cringed as the thought of the time YN had slipped and almost fallen on her hurt ankle, his own quick reflexes being the only thing that had saved her from weeks of extra healing. Honestly, even though it stressed him out to no end to have her cutting things balanced the way she was, it was also something that he had come to expect. Secretly, he wished she had fallen on that ankle, because that would mean she would have still been right there, trying to out-joke the dad joke master himself. 

Jungkook had holed himself away in his room, going to game, setting out a second controller without thinking about it. He had been in the middle of teaching YN how to play his favorite game, so that they could properly play together instead of having her just watch him play all the time. It felt wrong for him to have to just put away that second controller. 

The feeling was just exasperated when he went to start the game and it came up with the section that they had been working through. Fondly, Jungkook remembered the way YN would bring her bottom lip between her teeth as she concentrated on doing things correctly, bouncing in her seat when she finally figured out how something worked. Despite the fond memories, he found himself close to tears, staring at that second controller. 

Jimin and Hobi both went to the studio, deciding to dance away the hurt. Without thinking, Hobi went to ask YN what song they should freestyle to, the words dying in his throat as he turned around to talk to the girl that just wasn’t there. Jimin can see just how much pain Hobi is in, not even speaking as he brings the slightly taller man into his arms, feeling the same sense of loss. 

They sunk down to the floor, neither of them wanting to talk, which in itself was strange for the two normally boisterous men. Jimin missed the feeling of having YN curled up beside him, stealing his heat. Hobi missed being able to talk to her about the dances he was doing, getting a perspective from someone who didn’t really know anything about dance. They missed her. 

They didn’t realize until that moment, when the two were both trying to get the same sort of comfort from each other that they had begun to seek out YN for, how much of a hole there was in their group. Sure, they had been just fine before YN, and would be fine again without her, but there was a comfort with her that they didn’t know how to replace. Things just weren’t the same.

Taehyung busied himself with a book that Namjoon had been recommending to him about one artist that he recently found, but he couldn’t focus on the words or pictures in front of him. Instead, his mind was preoccupied with the fact that, for the past two months, he had spent this lazy time in the afternoon helping YN get from place to place, laughing with her as the others did this or that. He missed those moments, with YN laughing in his arms or on his back, even though it shouldn’t have been long enough for those feelings to settle in. 

He closed the book, flopping down onto the sofa he had settled on and trying not to think too hard about what he could have been doing with YN. If he was being honest with himself, he liked having someone who was so small and easily carried around, because he liked feeling big and important in comparison to her. It was an added bonus that her personality meshed so well with his own, and that she seemed to just understand  the weirder parts of his personality, instead of being put off by them like so many others. 

Sure, he was one of the largest of the pack, but that didn’t mean he felt like it. By wolf standards, he was pretty close to normal, but for whatever reason, he loved the way YN would curl into his side when they were seated next to each other, mumbling about being cold, looking absolutely tiny in comparison to his own body. 

Or how she’d sigh dramatically whenever she had to stand to do something, hopping around the room and never asking for help, despite the fact Taehyung would be the first to jump up and whisk her off her feet completely, just carrying her to wherever it was she needed to be, chiding her for not asking for the help she so clearly needed. 

Namjoon decided to go to the library, curling up in the chair that YN usually occupied in the mornings before everyone else woke up. His mind was swirling, automatically analyzing why he felt the way he did, instead of really feeling those feelings. Absently, he stroked the spine of the book that YN had been reading, a soft smile gracing his face when he realized that it was the one he had recommended when she was still completely bedridden during those first few days. 

He glanced down at the small table beside the chair, realizing for the first time that YN had left a little notebook under the book. He picks it up, flipping through it and quickly realizing that she had been taking notes over things she was eager to discuss with him, which should have made him happy, but in reality just made him feel worse because she wasn’t there to actually follow through. 

Namjoon chuckled to himself as he imagined YN, absolutely tiny in the chair, curled up in one of the fluffy blankets she always seemed to be wrapped up in, lovingly devouring the book that he had recommended to her, scribbling notes onto her notepad for later. He realized absently that he had missed one of the ways that she showed her growing love and appreciation for him was through this small action, making sure that she knew what she was going to say before their discussions. Namjoon was surprised when a drop of water fell onto the page in the notebook YN had marked, not realizing until he sniffled that it was his own tears. 

Yoongi locked himself up in his Genius Lab as soon as YN was in the car, headphones on as he did this or that to the song he had been working on. He tried to ignore the fact that he couldn’t hear the soft clicks of a keyboard behind him. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling of being lonely.

 He had never once felt lonely in his studio, not before he started letting YN hang out on the couch as he worked.

 Not until he got used to spinning around in his chair and seeing YN there, typing away on her laptop. He remembered hearing her little sighs of frustration or exasperation when something doesn’t work out quite right, her brow furrowed, her tongue sticking out slightly, with a growing fondness.

Yes, Yoongi liked being alone. He enjoyed the silence, he enjoyed his own company. He had always liked being alone, it was how he recharged. And it wasn’t until he let YN into his most private sanctum that he had ever really felt lonely. 

It wasn’t until Jin rounded all of them up for dinner that they realized that every single one of them were missing YN. 

“This is bullshit.” 

Yoongi is the one who speaks, heads turning towards him. None of them had really been in the mood for much talking, but none of them had figured Yoongi, of all people, would be the one to break the tense silence. 

“What, I know you’re all thinking it too. This is bullshit.” Yoongi glares at his plate, taking a deep breath before he looks up at the others. 

“None of us wanted YN to leave. YN didn’t want to leave. And now we are all miserable.” Yoongi stands now, not bothering to push in the chair he had been sitting on. 

“I don’t care what any of you do. I don’t care what the consequences are. I’m going to YN’s.” Yoongi’s eyes sweep the faces of the six boys he loves the most, a fiery intensity radiating off of him in a way that has them all flinching away from him. 

“Yoongi you can’t ju-” Namjoon starts, standing and going over to try to calm Yoongi down, but a sharp growl from Yoongi makes him stop in his tracks. 

“No!” Yoongi’s voice drops an octave as he steps closer to Namjoon himself, squaring up with the leader in a way that could very easily lead to a fight.

 “You know as well as I do Alpha,” Yoongi spits the word like it’s acid on his tongue. “she smells like one of us. She has our scent all over her. If they find out we let her go, that we aren’t around her all the time anymore, they’re going to kill her.” 

Namjoon opens his mouth to say something, anger bubbling up in him like a cursed well, when Jin stands, pushing himself between the two Alphas. 

“Both of you! Stop it!” Jin stands, making sure each of them are an arm’s length away from each other. “We all miss YN, but there’s a reason she’s not here. As much as it might seem like it, she isn’t one of us. She doesn’t belong with us.” 

The other boys are all standing now, helping to make sure Yoongi and Namjoon stay away from each other, trying to calm both of them down. A fight between the Alphas would not end well.

“How could you say that?” It’s Hoseok who speaks this time, his voice sounding oddly small. 

“Because it’s been almost a hundred years since there was a lost Omega! You all know how rare they are, seeing how strong the Omega gene is. We knew her uncle, and he didn’t have a lick of wolf in him, even if she managed to somehow get some wolf in her, it can’t be enough for her to be able to pack bond.” Jin flicks his eyes between the other boys, focusing his attention on keeping Namjoon behind him. 

It’s silent for what feels like hours. 

“Then why do I feel like I lost a piece of me, huh?” It’s Taehyung who speaks up this time, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, tears rising in his eyes. “Explain that, Hyung.” His voice is barely above a whisper, choked out over a growing lump in his throat. 

“I-” Jin starts, the words dying in his throat as he watches Taehyung turn into the closest person, seeking the comfort of someone else. 

For once, Yoongi opened his arms to Taehyung, glaring at Jin from over the other man’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. 

“I don’t know.” Jin finally admits, his face falling. 

Again, the room falls silent, only the soft sniffles of Taehyung breaking the deafening quiet of the room. 

“I think we all feel the way Tae does, don’t we?” Namjoon speaks for the first time in a while, the anger he had felt having finally subsided almost completely. There are nods from everyone. 

“The feeling is new, and we don’t want to make a mistake. If we report YN as being lost, she will become a target. If we don’t, we will. Let’s wait for at least a week before we approach her again.” Namjoon eyes the others in the room. “But let’s keep patrols heavy in her part of the woods.” 

Yoongi glares at Namjoon, thoughts swirling. A whole week without YN, knowing that she’s in pain being away from them? It sounded like downright torture to him. 

“Yoongi, Hyung, you know how big of a deal it is to be the pack with a lost Omega. She’ll become a target, just because she can’t handle half as much as we can. It’d be easy to not only to just kill her, but to break her spirit, to force her to tell them about our weaknesses as a pack. She’d have to be with at least one of us almost all the time, have to live with us. She’d have to give up big parts of her freedom, and the YN we know wouldn’t enjoy that at all.” Namjoon pauses, taking a deep breath. 

“We have to be sure before we approach her with this. For all we know, she won’t ever fully present and YN isn’t really one of the lost at all.” Namjoon brings a hand up to rub at his temple, a headache starting from the strong mix of emotions. 

Yoongi sighs, Taehyung finally detaching himself from the smaller man as Yoongi runs a hand through his hair. 

“You’re right Joon. I know you’re right.” He lets out another, more exasperated sigh before he continues, “It’s just hard, ya know? Waiting another week feels like torture, because I know, I know, that YN is hurting. And we caused it.” 

The other boys nod, giving murmurs of agreement as they start to dissipate, their meal forgotten as they begin to retreat again. For whatever reason, even the most other-person oriented of the pack wanted to be alone, wanted to have a minute to process everything that was going on by themselves. 

“Jin, Yoongi. Can we go talk further in the office? We need to actually figure out what to do next.” Namjoon catches Jin by the shoulder before he walks out of the room, reaching for Yoongi as well, even though he was across the room. 

Yoongi just nods, Jin letting out a short hum of approval. The trio then turn in unison, heading out towards the office space that Namjoon used so often. 

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Ray Molina, Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Rose Molina, Ray Molina/Rose Molina, Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Ray Molina/Rose Molina, Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Original Character(s) Characters: Bobby | Trevor Wilson, Ray Molina, Rose Molina, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No Comfort, Asexual Bobby | Trevor Wilson, Bobby is Insecure, Ray and Rose are Trying Their Best, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, i never know how to tag these things Series: Part 2 of if things had been different Summary:

At first, Rose has no idea that anything’s the matter.

Sure, maybe Bobby’s a little quieter than usual, offers less snarky commentary as he watches her putter around the kitchen making breakfast, but that can easily be explained by the early morning and a late shift last night. His eyes are half closed as he chugs a cup of black coffee.

And sure, maybe he doesn’t perk up once the caffeine’s hit, like he usually would; the three of them sit down to breakfast and he pushes his food around on his plate instead of eating it, mostly just nods when Ray directs the conversation his way instead of participating.

But Rose doesn’t worry about it, because Bobby gets surly when he’s tired, and sometimes days just find him a little stuck in his head, and she knows better than to try to push him to talk about things if he’s not ready to. Just because he seems a little low on energy doesn’t mean something’s wrong with him.

Until, about halfway through breakfast, Bobby puts his fork down and twists in his seat, his expression crumpling before he buries a harsh sneeze into his elbow, and then two more. -- Or, Bobby's sick. Ray and Rose would love to take care of him, if he'll let them.

@whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

[nerdythangs]

Day 8: Ouija

The only thing I managed to squeeze out for Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween prompt list. Y’all have been wonderful with this. Thank you, @racketghost, for keeping it spooky!!

--

“I think you’re overreacting,” said Crowley with a big yawn.

Aziraphale scoffed on the other line of the telephone. “I don’t believe I am! You might have been asleep, but I’ve been awake and have had plenty of time to think about it--”

“Fret about it, you mean.”

“--and not only is there a global pandemic, there are locusts by the thousands seen in Africa, both Australia and the West coast of the United States have been on fire, and don’t even get me started on the political climate--”

“You’re making the idea of going back to sleep really appealing right now, angel.”

“--there’s just no other conclusion: we’re at the end of times again. Our head offices have not contacted us since we have retired, but surely, surely they must answer my call if I were to reach out.”

Crowley poorly stifled another yawn. “And we all know how well the last call upstairs went.”

“Yes, which is why I’m requesting your presence.”

“My wot?”

“Your presence! You said we’re on our own side now, and I, to be frank, I, I don’t want to do this without you.” Aziraphale’s voice, which started off strong, trailed off to an uncharacteristic mumble.

Well, fuck. Crowley guessed he was finally getting out of bed. “Yeahyeahyeah, no, of course, yr’right,” he said while throwing the blanked off of himself and finally taking his eye mask off. “Just uhh,” he sniffed and cleared his throat, and blinked blearily into the dimly lit room, “gimme a minute and I’ll be over shortly.”

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale said breathlessly over the other end, full of angelic sincerity, “I’ll make sure there’s a nice strong cup of tea waiting for you.”

“Nnn,” Crowley said.

A short while later, Crowley knocked on the book shop’s door and was greeted by a beaming angel. “Crowley! It’s so good to see you,” he said, as if he wasn’t expecting him. Crowley mumbled and walked into the shop.

“So how are you doing this?” Crowley asked, flopping onto his usual spot on the sofa.

“Ah, well, it is rather simple,” Aziraphale said excitedly. He picked up the edge of the ornate rug in the center of the shop and dragged it out of the way to reveal--

“An Ouija board?” Crowley took off his sunglasses to get a better look.

Aziraphale looked at the Ouija board, perfectly drawn into the floorboards of his shop, complete with an illustrated sun and moon. His face was passively blank and he was perfectly still until he began to blink and shake his head repeatedly, turned around on his heel, and walked straight to his ancient telephone.

With the angel’s back turned, Crowley could finally crack a smile, and his shoulders shook in silent laughter. He got up from the sofa and sauntered over to the Ouija board. He scuffed it with the toe of his boot to check that it was a permanent fixture.

“Yes, hello, Adam. This is Aziraphale, the, um, angel from the air base. Yes, that’s the one.”

In a fit of demonic childishness, Crowley hopped over to the A, leapt to the R, and then jumped over to the E.

“I’m doing fine,” Aziraphale said briskly, “Listen, there’s a reason for my call. I know you did your best when setting the world right after the Apocalypse, and I truly couldn’t be more grateful, but there seems to have been a mix up in my heavenly communication sigil that I usually kept on the floor of my bookshop. It ah,” he turned to watch Crowley skip to the Y, the O, and then the U, “it has turned into an Ouija board.”

“There… God…” Crowley mumbled to himself with a slight smirk as he stepped on each letter.

“Of course you’re not a celestial being, but I rather thought--”

“It’s… Me…”

“I don’t believe that Hasboro has the ability to call the Metatron.” Aziraphale began to sound a little tetchy.

“... M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T…” Crowley stomped both feet onto the T and beamed up at Aziraphale with a shiteating grin.

“Of course, dear boy. No, I understand. Thank you. Goodbye.” Aziraphale hung up the phone with a sigh.

Suddenly Crowley began to glow an unearthly glow and his body straightened to be perfectly rigid.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, sounding alarmed.

Slowly, Crowley walked to the Y with a forced stiffness and blank look on his face, while darting wild eyes to Aziraphale. He then walked to the O, then to U, and the R.”

Aziraphale scrambled to get a paper and pen, writing down every letter Crowley stepped on.  “N-A-M-E-I-S-N-O-T-M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T-A-N-D-T-H-I-S-I-S-N-O-T-T-H-E-E-N-D-O-F-T-I-M-E-S”

Crowley’s possessed corporation then walked to the “Goodbye” where he collapsed into a pile on the floor, gasping.

He turned to Aziraphale. “What the FUCK was that?” He shouted semi-hysterically, with his gasps sounding more like panting with each breath.

“Your name is not Margaret and this is not the end of times.” Aziraphale read aloud from the notepad and looked over to Crowley. “Well, I suppose I got my answer.”

Crowley pushed himself up to a seated position and stared a thousand yard stare at the Ouija board on the floor.

They both stayed silent for a moment.

“D’you got any Scotch? I feel like I deserve Scotch after that.”

Aziraphale’s face brightened. “Oh yes! I’ve got a bottle of Macallan that I picked up a few years back that hasn’t been opened yet.”

‘A few years back’ probably meant at least 20 years to Aziraphale, so Crowley picked himself up off the ground and dusted his pants. “Excellent, I want four fingers’ worth to start.”

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale responded, puttering towards the back end of the shop. “And while you’re here,” he called from the back, “I’ll have to update you with everything that’s been going on. Did you know that they finally rediscovered that some books were bound in human leather? If they were to just ask me I would have told them about the volumes in my possession! Not that I’d show anyone of course, but I was there when they initially experimented with the technique, you know.”

Crowley shook his head as Aziraphale nattered on, letting a soft smile grace his face. This year might have gone to shit, but some things were worth waking up for.

---

Books bound in human leather: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/20/books/review/dark-archives-megan-rosenbloom.html

[angelhummel]

So I saw a post about the eras of the Glee fandom and I am in the Resurgence Era. I began watching the show back in May 2020. I know people like to make fun of the show a lot, and I totally understand, but I unironically enjoy this show. Well maybe not a majority of S4-S6, but I like the music, the comedy, the heartfelt moments, the zany characters. But I can also see how even in the early seasons, which people hail as Glee's Peak, how it could have been better. (1/?)

With the exception of a few song changes and polishing clunky dialogue, there isn't much I would change in S1 or S2 (although I would cut down on the cheating plotlines in S2). S3 should have been about the club finally being unified with almost no infighting, and they shouldn't have tried to cram so many PSAs into one season AND Santana's coming out story should have had more focus than it got (and it should have been handled more sensitively period) But the music in S3 still rocked.

In S4-S6 I can see almost exactly when people began dropping from the fandom and I understand why. S4 through S5 (especially S5) seemed to be flailing for some sense of direction with the characters and juggled too many nonsensical (and often tone deaf) storylines for it to be coherent. S6 saved it from ending disastrously, but by then it was too late to truly save the show. Not to mention Ryan Murphy's unprofessionalism leading to actor drama and just butchered story lines.

But I can see how the show could progressed coherently and satisfyingly. In S3-S4 the New Directions should have become the champions for the underdogs. In S4 with most of them graduating, they should have had the theme of branching out into the big world beyond their small, closeminded town in Ohio. S5 could have been them getting too big for their britches and then failing because of arrogance. Then S6, they go back to Lima as a humbling reminder of where they started.

In S6, with the allotted 22 episodes they should have had, they could have started up the Glee club again, and be reminded why they joined in the first place. It makes me sad that bad writing and Ryan Murphy's unprofessionalism tanked a show that had all the groundwork for being absolutely amazing. Glee is many things: wacky, musical, bizarre, heartfelt, frustrating, insensitive, sometimes all those things in the same episode, but when it was good, there was nothing else like it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

I mean that last plot is basically what they tried to do but just with Rachel while everyone puttered around for ten episodes before they wrapped all the pointless crap up. I mean I was never a fan of them having to go back to Ohio in the final season just bc they’d already done it multiple times by then and it’s like can we please see something new?? All I wanted for the last two seasons was all my faves and a few guest stars in NY lmao. It’s still an ensemble show with like 7-10 characters and some good guest stars, right?? 

Also like I’ve sort of said this before lately but. S2 is a hot damn mess. If you didn’t have Kurt or Klaine and you didn’t have Santana or Brittana?? That season would be nothing lol. Maybe it’s just me but idk all the het nonsense that season really drags it down for me. And s3 is fucking awful but that’s what so many people cite as their favorite. Which to me it just proves that people talking about “it was really good at first then sharply declined when everyone graduated” is complete bullshit and it’s just people looking at the seasons they actually watched through rose colored glasses and just saying it got 100% when they stopped being interested in it. 

And I swear I’m not trying to just shit on everything you’re saying lmao but again people saying s3 had the best music of all but like. I dunno I think DWS had the best music and was the best actual tribute ep. Michael also had really good performances. Then there’s maybe five other performances I’d put in the iconic tier lol. Idk I think it’s overrated all around and I just hate s3 so damn much (: But yes it does have some good music

But anyway your last paragraph. If I could rewrite Glee with 20/20 hindsight I would have the s4 and s6 newbies switch. So the new and interesting characters for s6 are introduced earlier and actually bring something new to the table. And then in s6 we get the wannabe copies of the oldies so that when all the alums are there, they pick out the person that reminds them most of their high school selves to mentor them. So like Thanksgiving but for like half the season or whatever lol. And it’s like sweet and nostalgic for them to sort of see themselves at the start of their friendship again and to give everyone the advice they wished they knew back in the day. Stuff like that. Could’ve been cute

And idk I don’t agree with everyone else saying s5 sucked lol. I mean obviously one of the contributing factors to the strangeness and sloppiness was one of their main characters dying and having to write around that. And poor Sam having to fill Finn’s crap shoes and become Finn 2.0 and I think you can see that best with the nurse Penny stuff. But idk I mean there’s twerking and puppets which are nonsensical and only one of those things comes off as tone deaf to me. I don’t think it’s as bad as people wanna say. But after the boringness of them coming back to Ohio for the glee club in the middle of the season?? And then my favorite characters are in NY after that?? Those are some of my absolute favorite episodes. I mean I’m in my top 40 glee ranking episodes and I’ve got 5 eps just from the back half of season five to go. I love it. It’s some of my favorite Glee

Although I still agree that s1 is the best. And that’s with the show focusing mainly on Mr. Schue, Finchel, and Quick. And I still adore it as much as I do. Season one really is something special. I mean just about every season is like watching a different show. And no one is going to agree on what they like best or why. But idk I’m just glad everyone in the fandom has something to hold onto. 

[aquietwritingcorner]

Comfortember 2020 Day 25: Going Back to School/Work Word Count: 1071 Author: Katie/Ally (aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl)   Rating: T Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Team Mustang Warnings:         Summary: It’s Riza’s first day back at the office after the Promised Day, and while her body is still moving a bit slow, she’s more that ready.     Notes:  One day I will write the post-PD recovery story that I keep half-forming with all these headcanons.

  Back to Work

   It was no surprise to Riza that Roy had insisted on picking her up today. In fact, if he hadn’t, she would have expected there to be at least three others who would have offered, if not more. It was her first official day back at work, although she was still restricted to light duties and desk duties. She was looking forward to going back, tired of laying around her house. She was ready to get back to work.

She knew that Roy would insist on driving her in. And to her surprise, he was on time, for once. She, unfortunately, was running a little behind, something that wasn’t typically like her.

He looked surprised when she answered the door and she was only half ready. “I thought you’d be ready by now,” he said, stepping inside and greeting Hayate.

“I thought I would be too,” she said, letting him in and closing the door behind him, “but I think I overestimated myself. I’m sorry, it shouldn't be too much longer.”

Roy shook his head. “No, it’s alright. I'm Just a little surprised.” he hesitated. “Riza… are you sure you're ready to come back?”

“Yes,” she stated firmly, heading back towards the bathroom. “I can’t just sit around anymore, Roy. I need to keep moving, and to be a part of what’s going on. Staying home Is driving me crazy. I need to get back to work.”

His expression softened a little. “I don’t doubt that,” he said, following her. “I just need to know that you’re ready for it. We don’t need you pushing yourself too hard.”

She worked on pinning her hair up into its usual style. “I know,” she said. “But the doctors said that I could go back on limited duties. I have restrictions, of course, but I’ll be fine with light duties.”

Roy frowned, but there was little he could say to that, so instead he left her to finish getting ready. She heard him puttering around in her kitchen, sounding like he was washing her dishes. Riza sighed to herself. He just wasn’t going to stop fussing, was he?

She paused after she got her hair up, though. Truth be told, she was already a little tired. She wasn’t used to being up this early or moving this fast in the morning. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her! She had been in the hospital for about two months following the promised day while her body recovered from not only the severe blood loss, but the layers of exhaustion she had put it under while she lived under Selim’s watch. Her body had basically collapsed, and it had been touch and go there for a while. When she was finally released from the hospital, it was on what she called house arrest. She had high restrictions and she absolutely wasn’t allowed to go back to work. But now, finally, nearly six months after the Promised Day, she was getting to go back to work, albeit on light duties.

She was going. Even if she was already tired, she was going. Nothing was going to stop her.

She pushed back from the sink and finished getting herself ready, heading out and into the kitchen where Roy already had a cup of coffee prepared for her and was putting the dirty dishes into the sink.

Well, at least he hadn’t tried to cook. He was never good at that.

“Thank you,” she said, and took it, drinking it as she ate her breakfast and took the supplements that her doctors had warned her to keep taking every day. They made her a little sick to her stomach at the best of times, but especially if she took them without any food.

 She ate quickly, and in short order she was ready to go, even if they were running a few minutes later then she wanted to be. Mustang escorted both her and Hayate to his car. From there it was just a quick ride to Central Command. It had been rebuilt in the time that Riza had been gone, and it looked good.  Mustang parked, and then escorted her to the office, making sure to take it slowly for her, not walking at his usual clip. It annoyed her, but she had to admit that it was probably a good thing. She’d just exhaust herself if she tried to move too fast. Mustang walked with her through the halls like he was escorting a princess, and she tried not to roll her eyes at it. Still, as they walked, Riza found herself surprised by the response. She hadn’t expected so many well wishes and congratulations on being back. When she entered the office, Roy smiling broadly at her side, her men greeted her enthusiastically, more than happy to see her back in the office.

 “Welcome back, sir!” Fuery said with a smile. The young man had visited her often, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“It’s good to see you here,” Falman greeted her with a smile of his own. Bless him, he had already started going through the paperwork, it seemed.

“Yeah, glad you’re back, Riza,” Breda said. “Now maybe we’ll actually get some work done around here.”

“Hey--I work!” but Roy was too happy to sound too terribly offended.

Breda hooked a thumb towards her desk. “There’s a little something there for you. Hope you enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad to be back.” She curiously went towards her desk. Sitting on it was a rather large box from the bakery she liked so well, one that had survived the chaos of the Promised Day. Opening it found a variety of pastries inside, ones that she loved, and she looked up at the men with a warm smile.

“Thank you,” she said again. “Looks like breakfast is on me, boys. Please,” she offered up the box to them and, like any true military men, they took advantage of it, taking a pastry each to eat. Riza herself pulled out an apple one, the one she liked the best, and very happily bit into it, savoring the flavor.

As she ate, everyone settled down and started working again, and Riza could help but look around the room with satisfaction. This was her family, these were her friends, and she felt that she was right back where she belonged.

[wiseabsol]

Life has been tough lately.

I know everyone can say that, given 2020, but this is probably one of the lowest points in my life, with only the years following undergrad and my stepmother's death being comparable. I am working at a job that doesn't pay me enough or give me enough hours, despite how hard I work. I don't have any real friends in the area, because the ones I had became toxic after I started setting boundaries with them and holding them accountable for their actions and broken promises. I am in financial straights from trying to make my life better--going to therapy, setting money aside for retirement, signing up for health care through my job. I can't get myself to write anything more than notes and outlines for a fantasy series I might never actually tackle, which means I'm wasting the degrees I earned by going into considerable debt. My little brother refuses to have a relationship with any of the members of our family, including my mother, and she's afraid one of them will die before they're able to reconcile. And my father is marrying someone who is verbally abusive to both him and my little brother, so my brother is basically never getting out of the toxic environment he grew up in.

And through all of this, I feel so exhausted. I've worked so hard to get here--got straight As in school, did the extracurriculars, tried to be a thoughtful and generous friend and colleague, and put my all into my work. And it's gotten me nowhere. Barely anyone I was friendly with in real life reaches out unless they want something, probably because they have their own stuff going on, but mostly it leaves me wondering, "Why did I try so hard with them?" And if I want to get anywhere, I have to pour still more of myself out, scrap a few layers off the bottom of my soul, and hope that that will finally be enough. Because all of that work wasn't enough.

And while all of this is going on, the world is burning. My best friend and my online friends are suffering from their own losses. And there's nothing I can do, really, to fix the world or their broken hearts. I'm struggling to get anywhere good in my own life.

When I'm not depressed, I try to look on the bright side. I have a safe home to come back to every day. My roommate and I get along well. My cats, despite their ages, are happy and healthy. I'm reading more, playing board games with family and online friends, and watching movies and anime with those friends. My neighbor wants me to edit his probably terrible book and movie script, but hey, he's comfortably middle class, so I might get some good money from it. I have a couple of weeks coming up where I'll be paid to sit in a booth all day and can probably putter around on the net for most of it. I'm vaccinated. People like reading my thoughts on a fanfic. Nobody in my life has died recently. I'm not dying. This moment in my life will pass. It has to pass.

[jimmydemaret]

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[bengalaas]

A Year In Review: 2020 Writing

This has been a strange year, to say the least, and it's weird to look back at the New Year's resolutions I had for it. Writing has been complicated, with little downtime from work and uni, and the lowkey stress permeating this whole plague situation has taken a bite out of my concentration and inspiration. 

But here's a review of what I still managed to get done :)

I’ve seen a different end-of-year format making rounds, but I’m using the one from last year. So if you see this, feel free to either consider yourself tagged, or just take the tag as an expression of love and thanks ♥

Writing

My main writing resolution was to finish A Different Kind of Courage (Hobbit fic, Fili/Tauriel) in summer/autumn, but that didn't work out. I did write 27′500 words for it, and I'm not giving up on that rarepair pool noodle lol. At 43'400 words it's also my second longest fic to date :D

I added a 3800w chapter to Canticle of Chaos (Loki x Dragon Age crossover). By this point I'm pretty sure that fic is kinda cursed, so I'm writing it very slowly and only when I’m feeling lucky lol. Nevertheless, I think it's some of my best writing, and it's been a great exercise in “writing for yourself”.

I also translated a wonderful series, Lucky Heart (American Gods, Laura/Sweeney), 5600 words. I absolutely loved the rich mythological and metaphorical layers of the original, and it was a treat to try and reflect the author's style in English, playing with the rhythm and the word choices. Neither English, nor Russian are my native languages, so I’m double proud of this one!

Sometime in autumn I took an unexpected detour and fell into the tiny Varric/Merrill canoe and started a series Mirrors and Manuscripts, currently featuring 2 works at 6155 w total. 

And some smaller things: I polished and posted an old F!Brosca & Zevran oneshot (No Honour in Dust, 1260w), and a curious writing experiment with M!Hawke/Isabela (Asyndeton, 1040w). I'm also slowly filling the “30 Days of OC” challenge with Martin Lavellan (5800w). And there were two other DA Drunk Writing drables, but they disappeared into the void whence they came from (I accidentally deleted them).

So that’s a total of 51′100 words, which I think is not bad, considering this fun year, and actually it’s 20k more than last year :D

Beta thanks

Still no beta, the bengalaas be wild and unspellchecked. 

However, I’d like to thank @hollyand-writes for a betaing opportunity :) I’m sure there’s room for improvement in how I communicate my comments, and, being a non-native English speaker, there’s stuff I can’t really comment on, but diving into things critically is something I do enjoy, so — thanks for letting me :)

Progress

I think, this year I'm getting a bit better at finishing things. Oneshots and prompts definitely have forced me to focus on keeping the right amount of tension in my writing up until the end, and then to wrap it up nicely. 

I’ve started compiling glossary lists with smut expressions and vocabulary lol, and also body language, facial expressions etc. Because it’s unbelievably frustrating to clearly picture what the character is doing and completely forget what’s that gesture called in English. Glossaries save me some time.

And also... I’m learning to let fics progress at their own pace. A reader reminded me in summer that a slowburn is a slowburn for a reason and it would be wrong to force it to move faster. It would break the authenticity of the story, of the characters. And when I was trying to push and finish a chapter recently, I again realised that the reason it’s not working is because I was ignoring the underlying truth of the story in favour of getting shit done. So. Truth ftw. Even if it takes its sweet time to emerge.

Community

My corner of the fandom has been wonderful, filled with talented, friendly people like @hollyand-writes​, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold​, @lucyrne​, @barbex, @cafeleningrad, @dorianpink, @serial-chillr, @dafan7711​ and others. Thank you for being here and making this an inspiring, positive place! ♥

Additionally, raw respect for D, who made 100 lists x 30 prompts this year, and has been a staunch, supportive, positive voice in the fandom and an overall wonderful person. 

I’ve also started talking with people more, and even joined the DA Drunk Writing Circle :D

Comments

I’ve been blown away by the comments I got on the Varric/Merrill oneshots, those were totally unexpected! Comments on the Lucky Heart series have felt so damn gratifying, for having been able to bring those stories to the English-speaking readers. Comments to Courage... they just warm my heart so much :))

Detailed, long-ass responses to the Varric/Merrill shots and to my own comments have been a delight. When discussions in the comment sections flood my email and AO3 starts to feel like a social media site... I live for it :))

2021

I’ll continue working on Courage and maybe puttering away on Canticle of Chaos. Maybe finish the 30 Days of Martin Lavellan series.

I don’t feel like starting any new multi-chapter fics, because I think that the next step for me would be to learn to plot properly and write a first draft before starting posting, and I just can’t see myself doing that next year lol. 

I’d like to do more Dragon Age oneshots and prompts. Write something small and whimsical. Maybe Varric/Merill, since people seem to like it. I’d like to learn to write faster, so random prompts it is. Maybe I’ll finish playing DAI, for once. That might give fodder for new fics too. 

And here’s a crazy idea lol, but maybe I should try writing something in my own native language next year XD

[redheadgleekfic]

I posted 12 times in 2021

12 posts created (100%)

0 posts reblogged (0%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.0 posts.

I added 93 tags in 2021

#klaine - 11 posts

#klaine fanfic - 11 posts

#blaine anderson - 10 posts

#fth 2020 - 10 posts

#fandom trumps hate - 10 posts

#wip big bang - 10 posts

#kurt hummel - 10 posts

#klaine fic - 9 posts

#redheadgleek writes - 9 posts

#completed fic - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 117 characters

#should i put in a disclaimer that i know nothing about the workings of theater and just pulled it all out of my head?

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

these inconvenient fireworks - chapter 10

Title: these inconvenient fireworks Fandom: glee Link: FF.net (T rated version). AO3. Tumblr. Warnings: None apply. Rating: Mature to explicit. (we finally earn it!). Pairings: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, very slight Kurt/Adam at the beginning.

Written for the @fandomtrumpshate 2020 charity auction for @sunshineoptimismandangels. Completed as part of the @wipbigbang project. Artwork by kaydrew86/aaweth-edain. Thanks to @snarkyhag, @wowbright, and @slowcookedwriting for their handholding, cheerleading, and betaing of this fic. This fic really did require a village.

Summary: After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to fake-date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for the dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

Read the tenth and final chapter on AO3, the safe for work version on FF.net, or click below to continue reading on tumblr.

*

“Fifteen minutes until curtain!”

“Shit!”

“You’ve got this.” Blaine murmurs encouragingly, his voice pitched low and calm. “Eyes closed. Keep breathing in through your nose … hold 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and out through your mouth, 2, 3, 4. And again. In…. hold…. out.”

The women of the chorus cluster around him, dressed in their black and white habits of the first act, holding hands as they breathe. For some, it’s their first professional performance and sudden nerves had cropped up when he had gathered them for a quick vocal warm-up.

He takes them through the routine of singing scales, gives them a lozenge, and guides them through the meditative breathing as their anxiety decreases. “Alright, you can breathe normally and open your eyes.”

He looks at each one of his girls and his eyes become a little misty. “You are going to be marvelous tonight.” He tells them. “Your hard work these last few months has paid off and look at where you are. You deserve this. I am so proud of you. Now go kick butt.”

He hugs each of them fiercely, sending them to their spot to wait for the curtain to rise and putters around the little alcove just off the stage, where he has water, tea with honey, lemon slices, and throat lozenges set up to soothe their throats in between performances.

Brad is conducting the orchestra tonight—he and Blaine will switch off conducting performances after this—so there isn’t much for him to do doing the performance itself, other than supporting his cast and reassuring them against last minute nerves. Blaine’s restless as he flits backstage, their collective nervousness rubbing off on him, but he’s also confident in their abilities.

Blaine honestly can’t process how much his life has changed in the last two weeks. He and Brad had managed to create an orchestral version of his song and got it recorded in the studio in two days, a feat that Blaine’s still not sure how they managed. He now has an agent recommended by Wes, Santana Lopez, who has a sharp mind and equally sharp tongue. With her help, he’s been navigating the multiple recording deal offers that have cropped up—going viral means that everybody is eager to sign him, but with Santana’s help, he’s making sure that he’s doing what he wants to do.

Mercedes and Marley have also taken him under his wing. During the final weeks of dress rehearsals, they were on set much more frequently, so Blaine has been able to make sure there were no lingering hard feelings with the addition of his song. He’s had dinner with them a couple of times where they’ve talked about the pitfalls of composing music and navigating the complex music scene. Blaine’s grateful that he has the play’s opening to focus on, which allows him a touch of breathing room while he contemplates his future career.

“Knock, knock.” A voice says behind him, jolting him from his thoughts. .

Blaine whirls around. “Hi! Why aren’t you on stage? They’re calling for you.”

Kurt waves away his concerns with one hand. “Oh, I know. I just wanted to give you this first.” He whips out a bouquet of red and yellow roses from behind his back. “To thank you for all that you’ve done for me. These are to celebrate you.”

See the full post

36 notes • Posted 2021-11-28 15:41:12 GMT

#4

these inconvenient fireworks - chapter 7

Title: these inconvenient fireworks Fandom: glee Link: FF.net (T rated version). AO3. Warnings: None apply. Rating: Mature to explicit. Pairings: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, very slight Kurt/Adam at the beginning.

Thanks to @snarkyhag, @wowbright, and @slowcookedwriting for their handholding, cheerleading, and betaing of this fic. This fic really did require a village.

Written for the @fandomtrumpshate 2020 charity auction for @sunshineoptimismandangels. Completed as part of the @wipbigbang project.

Summary: After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to fake-date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

Read the seventh chapter on AO3, the completed (safe for work version) fic on FF.net, or click below to continue reading on tumblr.

*

Kurt rings the doorbell and waits patiently in the growing twilight. He glances down at his watch and winces at the time. Thankfully, Dani doesn’t seem to be annoyed when she opens the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kurt greets Dani with a kiss. “Unique wouldn’t let me go.”

“Elliott’s not here yet either.” She takes his jacket and leads him down the stairs to the little basement studio that she and Elliott have rented as practice space. “I’m just glad you were able to squeeze us in. You’re what, eight weeks from opening night?”

“Six.” He corrects. “Six very short weeks. Those three weeks waiting for the music and scripts made for very inefficient rehearsals so it’s an all consuming chaos now that they’re here. Unique has stepped up the pressure on rehearsals and all of a sudden, everybody’s realized that it’s all just half-baked and is scrambling.”

“You love it though.” Dani says.

“I do. I really do.” Kurt admits, as he squeezes into the room. The walls are covered in dark insulating foam and various instruments clutter every surface. His type A personality itches at the disorganization, but Dani would have his head if he tried to clean up—she thrives in the chaos. “I love giving myself over to the character and figuring out what makes him tick and I love watching all of the pieces come together. It’s why I did this in the first place. It’s rewarding, but gods, is it exhausting.”

Between stage direction, dance instruction, costume fittings, and music sessions with Blaine, Kurt often finds himself collapsing in bed late in the evening only to arise early and start all over again. The intensity drives him, though, as he seeks perfection in the emotional impact of his lines. “Brian” slips on like a wet suit every morning: a cocky and self-assured personage, with depths of brittle vulnerability that he only shows to those he trusts—traits Kurt recognizes all too well in himself. He wonders if this is why Ryan Durphy picked him to play the autobiographical role.

“Well, thanks for taking time to do this charity show with your old band. It really means a lot to me and Elliott.” Dani says, clearing a spot on the sofa. Kurt plops down beside her. “How’s Adam? Is it still awkward?”

“Surprisingly no. He’s completely over me, I think, and contrary to my fears, working with him has actually been enjoyable. It’s fun to lean into the mature, comfortable love of a long-time relationship that Brian and David have, you know? Unique makes sure that every argument we have has that sturdy foundation, so it’s a challenge.”

“And the songs? Was it worth the wait?” She teases.

“Nothing was worth that wait.” Kurt laughs. “The music is good though. The composers are new but talented.I’m pretty sure their motto was to make it as gay as possible. I’m singing more than one love song and then another to our unborn child and even though this is a comedy, it honestly makes me want to cry sometimes.”

“Aww, really?”

“When I was growing up, I longed to sing a romantic duet with a boy, with a song written specifically for two men, and now I get to sing it for young boys all over the world. And Blaine’s amazing on the piano, so it just sounds incredible even in practice. I can’t wait to hear how the full orchestration is going to sound.”

“Who’s Blaine?”

“Hmm? Oh, he’s the assistant music director. He’s mostly taken over for Brad. He’s from Ohio and actually taught for several years where I went to high school if you can believe it.”

They talk for a few minutes more, before the door is flung open and Elliott and his partner Chaz walk in. “Darlings!” Elliott declares in a dramatic fashion, “I hope you didn’t start without me.”

“Of course not. Kurt’s just been catching me up on all of the gossip.” Dani stands up to greet them both.

Chaz leans down and gives Kurt a hug and kiss. “Good to see you, Kurt.”

Elliott looks down at Kurt, a look of confusion on his face. “Kurt? Do I know a Kurt? Oh, you mean, my fake boyfriend who has no time for me?”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I just saw you yesterday. But speaking of that, I don’t think I need you as a fake boyfriend anymore.”

Elliott gasps dramatically. “Is it me? Am I not taking care of your needs as your lover? Am I too needy?”

“Yes, it’s you. I don’t have time to balance faking a relationship along with everything else. Besides, everything is fine between Adam and me, and Chandler hasn’t gotten any more creepy than he already was. Services rendered.”

“Or maybe it’s because you have replaced me with—" he pauses dramatically "—your music director?”

See the full post

36 notes • Posted 2021-11-15 10:14:21 GMT

#3

these inconvenient fireworks - chapter 4

Title: these inconvenient fireworks Fandom: glee Link: FF.net (T rated version). AO3. Warnings: None apply. Rating: Mature to explicit. (It's a little more steamy in this one) Pairings: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, very slight Kurt/Adam at the beginning.

Thanks to @snarkyhag, @wowbright, and @slowcookedwriting for their handholding, cheerleading, and betaing of this fic. This fic really did require a village.

Written for the @fandomtrumpshate 2020 charity auction for @sunshineoptimismandangels. Completed as part of the @wipbigbang project.

Summary: After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to fake-date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

Read the fourth chapter on AO3, the completed (but censored) fic on FF.net, or click below to continue reading on tumblr.

*

Blaine hopes that the “fish out of water” feeling will fade away soon, but he’s been here in New York City for a week and he still feels completely out of his element. He has moved in temporarily with the female star of the show, Tina Cohen-Chang, while he looks for a more permanent apartment. Blaine hasn’t even had a chance to meet the majority of the people that he’s going to be working with. The main cast started rehearsals with the script last week, but the music isn’t quite ready yet. Today’s the first day where he’ll meet up with the music director and finally have some information on his responsibilities.

He winds his way between the seats to the main stage. There’s the usual bustle of the stagehands working on the sets and lighting, but the orchestra pit is empty and none of the actors or chorus are here yet. Blaine should have waited for Tina, but he was so excited and nervous for his first day that he had left their apartment shortly after sunrise, waiting impatiently across the street at a hole in the wall diner until the stage door was unlocked.

The brief email had instructed him to come to the rehearsal hall but, try as he might, he’s unable to locate a room that would fit that description. There’s the main stage, the storage section for the sets, and a large dressing area, but no rooms. He circles around.

“Excuse me,” he touches the shoulder of a man passing by to grab his attention. “It’s my first day and I’m—”

The man turns and Blaine’s words catch in his mouth.

It’s Kurt Hummel. Kurt Hummel whose face decorated a plaque outside of Blaine’s office, dedicated to McKinley’s most successful graduates, that Blaine passed every day. Kurt Hummel who has brought back Broadway’s golden age with his ethereal voice and powerful acting and stunning profile and genuine kindness is standing in front of him. “Yes?”

“I’m … I’m Blaine.” He recovers, a faint blushes rising to his cheeks (at least he hopes it’s faint). “I’m the music. Music director, I mean, the assistant music director, and I’m a little lost.”

Kurt holds out his hand and grips Blaine’s in greeting. His handshake is firm and his hand is soft and warm and Blaine—

Blaine needs to concentrate on what Kurt’s asking. “Where are you going?”

“The rehearsal room?” Blaine supplies. “I’m supposed to be meeting Brad there.”

“It’s in the basement. You take the stairs from the lobby but, come on, there’s a short-cut back here.” Kurt tugs on Blaine’s hand and Blaine blushes again, realizing that he hadn’t dropped it since then had shook hands.

“Thanks.” Blaine mumbles, dropping his hand.

“I’m Kurt, by the way.”

“I know,” Blaine says and blushes deeper in mortification at sounding like a fanboy. “I mean. I recognized you from your picture.”

Kurt laughs, a soft and warm sound, and Blaine instantly wants to make him laugh more. “I guess I have gotten to the recognizable stage. But I’m glad it wasn’t because we had worked together in the past and I had forgotten you.”

“No, this is my first show,” Blaine admits. “At least here in New York.”

“Did you just move here then?”

He nods as Kurt directs them down a narrow spiral staircase. “Yeah. From Ohio.”

“Really? I’m from Ohio, too.”

“I know. I mean. McKinley School of Performing Arts? I’ve taught there for the last five years. And your picture still hangs in the hall of fame.”

“Mckinley? Really? My gosh, I haven’t been back there in years. Is Will Schuester still the principal?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he… oh, I shouldn’t say this, but, um, he was a lousy teacher at times. Is he better as a principal?”

See the full post

37 notes • Posted 2021-10-22 10:56:20 GMT

#2

these inconvenient fireworks - chapter 3

Title: these inconvenient fireworks Fandom: glee Link: FF.net (T rated version). AO3. Warnings: None apply. Rating: Mature to explicit. Pairings: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, very slight Kurt/Adam at the beginning.

Thanks to @snarkyhag, @wowbright, and @slowcookedwriting for their handholding, cheerleading, and betaing of this fic. This fic really did require a village.

Written for the @fandomtrumpshate 2020 charity auction for @sunshineoptimismandangels. Completed as part of the @wipbigbang project.

Summary: After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to fake-date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

Read the second chapter on AO3, the completed (but censored) fic on FF.net, or click below to continue reading on tumblr.

*

Chapter 3

Kurt slides into the booth with a groan, picking up the pot of coffee before he even takes off his scarf. His friends watch in amusement as he adds a heaping scoop of sugar and tops it with cream. Usually he takes his coffee just black, but after his day…

Dani takes the sugar away as he eyes the canister again. “Rough day?” she asks in sympathy.

“The worst,” he laments to his friends as he takes a cautious sip and allows his wired body to fully relax into the booth. Two years into his employment, he convinced Gunther to invest in premium roasted coffee sourced from a local shop. It may be too late in the day for coffee and too early for alcohol, but Kurt doesn’t care for social norms today.

A young waitress appears like magic at his side and he takes in another gulp before ordering. “A sunshine omelet with chicken sausage on the side and a Bloody Mary.” He’s been coming to the Spotlight Diner since he worked here as a waiter in college, surviving on tips and random performances on the piano, and their 24-hour brunch menu is hard to resist.

“Oh, that’s right!” Elliott responds. “Rehearsals started today for your new play.”

“They officially started last week,” Kurt corrects, “but fucking Brody pulled out of the role on Thursday.”

“What?”

“It’s been fucking shitstorm since then, let me tell you.”

“He just quit?”

“I’m sure somebody suggested that it might damage his fucking pathetic career playing a gay man with someone who is actually gay. He’s always been a talentless hack and I dreaded trying to pretend to be in love with that creeper. But did he have to do it right before rehearsals started?”

“So have they found a replacement?” Elliott probes.

Kurt nods. “Mhmm. They held emergency auditions this weekend. I had to come in and do test readings with a dozen different men this weekend.”

“The new guy has to be better.” Dani sips her drink.

“Well, yes. I guess. They hired Adam Crawford. You know, my costar from The Boy From Oz. And," he pauses before admitting, "the guy I slept with after the cast party.”

“Oh! The one you ghosted the next morning.” Elliott smirks.

“I didn’t ghost him. I had things to do the next morning.” Kurt clarifies with a frown.

“You didn’t leave a note.” Elliott points out.

“There was no paper.” Kurt protests. “I wasn’t going to rummage through his things.”

“Or respond to his texts.”

“I didn’t know what to say!” Kurt protests.

“Face it, Hummel, you made no attempt to contact him. You ghosted.”

Kurt slumps against the booth. “You’re right. It was rude. And now I have to work with him again. Every day. Ugh.”

See the full post

41 notes • Posted 2021-10-16 16:49:17 GMT

#1

these inconvenient fireworks - chapter 1

Title: these inconvenient fireworks Fandom: glee Link: FF.net (T rated version). AO3. Tumblr. Warnings: None apply. Rating: Mature to explicit. Pairings: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson, very slight Kurt/Adam at the beginning. Thanks to @snarkyhag, @wowbright, and @slowcookedwriting for their handholding, cheerleading, and betaing of this fic. This fic really did require a village.

Written for the @fandomtrumpshate charity auction for @sunshineoptimismandangels. Completed as part of the @wipbigbang project.

Summary: After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to fake-date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

Read the first chapter on AO3, the completed (but censored) fic on FF.net, or click below to continue reading on tumblr.

*

Chapter 1

Kurt stalls at the closed door, his hand on the handle, and closes his eyes, listening to the cacophony of the crowd beyond. The cheers had started up in earnest when Harmony had exited just a few minutes before and he basks in the familiar noise, poised to join in.

It’s his last night, the last night that he will get to experience the mixture of lingering adrenaline and utter exhaustion after baring his soul to a rapt audience. He had been a nobody just a couple of years ago — making do as a chorus member and a couple of secondary roles in off-off Broadway shows to pay his rent — when he got his big break in the Broadway revival of The Boy From Oz as Peter Allen. The crowds that lingered at the stage door those early days had been much smaller, but Kurt cherishes the memory of their enthusiasm in his performance and their eagerness in getting his signature on the playbill that displayed his face. He’ll never forget the moment when he stepped out of the subway tunnel in Times Square to be greeted by his laughing face from fifty feet above. More than ten years after escaping Lima and pounding pavement with more rejections than successes, he had made it. Following in the shoes of Hugh Jackman had been intimidating, especially as an unknown actor but, slowly, word about the play trickled out as he channeled Peter’s frustration and growing awareness. The reviews had been glowing, and his surprise win of Leading Actor in a Musical Revival at the Tonys caused a surge in attendance and the number of people lingering at the stage door increased dramatically after that. Kurt now spent nearly an hour each night after the play signing autographs and posing for pictures with fans who clamored for his attention.

Tonight, it comes to an end. The show is closing after an impressive twenty month run and in two weeks time, rehearsals for The Greatest Showman will start: a microcosm of the circle of life as experienced on the Great White Way. Already, the stagehands have started striking the stage, tearing down what has been home for the last two years. Kurt lingered at the end of the stage after the final curtain call, trying to capture all of the senses and memories of this place before it disappeared. He’ll come back tomorrow to clean out his dressing room, but by then, the set will already be gone. Theater doesn’t allow for dithering in one’s nostalgia.

So Kurt centers himself in this moment, breathing in the familiar sights and smells, and then pushes open the door. The cheers and applause are deafening in the warm summer air—loud and overwhelming and just for him. He doesn’t stop the grin that spreads across his face, overwhelmed with emotion, as he holds his hand up for silence. The noise slowly dies down before he projects his voice and addresses the crowd.

“Thanks so much for coming here tonight and supporting my fellow cast and crew who have worked so hard over the last several months bringing this show to life. And thank you, so much, for your support of me. Whether tonight was your first night attending the theater, in which case, I hope I made your first time good—” he winks and swivels his pelvis—a move he has perfected over the last several months of gyrating in tight pants “—or your 100th, in all seriousness and from the bottom of my heart: your love and support has been my motivation. It has meant so much to me to bring Peter alive for you every night. Thank you.”

He presses his hand to his heart, before raising it again. “As you know, it’s our last night. So I hope you ask for a massive sum of money when you put this playbill for sale on eBay.” He winks again and steps forward to those fans straining against the barrier, his bodyguard at his side, a looming shape that quails any threats.

The signing goes quickly—his signature has become a barely decipherable scrawl. He pauses for a few selfies, particularly for the young boys who remind him of himself as a bullied teenager longing for an escape.

“Kurt! Kurt! Over here! Kurt!” He has come to recognize the voices of his more… fervent fans and he suppresses a tiny sigh before grabbing the man’s playbill. Chandler’s been to the play (or at least the stage door line) nearly every night. At first, Kurt had been intensely flattered by the adoration — hearing that he was better than Hugh Jackman never hurts the ego — and he had nearly slipped him his phone number one particularly lonely winter night before his logical brain had wrested back control. The novelty has worn off over the last few months, but he keeps his smile firmly in place. “Hi, hi, thanks for coming.”

“I couldn’t miss your last day!” Chandler chirps. “I brought something for you.” Chandler thrusts him a picture frame containing a photo collage of his playbill photo, surrounded by gold stars and pics of him on stage sliding across the floor in those cursed gold pants, another of him accepting his award on Tonys night and another—Kurt squints.

“Is that me in my cheerleading costume?”

“Yep!” Chandler confirms with a bounce. “YouTube has all of these treasures from your younger years.”

“That’s, uh, great.”

Kurt hands it over to Bruce who examines it grimly, always on the lookout for the bomb threat, Kurt supposes. “Thanks, it’s lovely.” He hands back the signed playbill.

Chandler keeps his arm out. “Will you make it out to me? Just for tonight?”

“Er, sure.”

“It’s C-H-A-N-D-L-E-R.” He spells out his name as he does every night. Kurt suppresses his eye roll. “I’m graduating in a couple of months from NYADA myself and you’ve been such an inspiration, I can’t even tell you. Maybe one day, we’ll be in a musical together. Can you just imagine?” He giggles as he clutches his now signed playbill to him.

“That would be nice,” Kurt replies politely. “Good luck, it’s a tough world out there.”

“I know! But if you made it, there’s hope for us all. Oh, and—” Bruce starts nudging Chandler further back "—look behind the frame. You can call me anytime, really, I—”

Kurt gives a relieved wave and turns back to the thinning group. “Hi! Thanks so much for coming tonight!”

*

“Kurt, might I steal you away from your dashing companion for a moment? There’s someone that I’m dying for you to meet.”

Kurt smiles apologetically at Adam, as June Dolloway tucks her hand under his elbow and drags him away. It’s just as well. Adam Crawford starred as one of the play’s secondary characters and Kurt has had a bit of a crush on his stage romance, as he was a sucker for a British accent. Alas, they shared little in common besides a fondness for British comedies and Adam was unfortunately dull as bricks in a one-on-one conversation. But the wee morning hours and the celebratory champagne freely flowing at the after party has Kurt forgetting why a hookup with a colleague—a gorgeous and interested colleague—would be a bad idea. June’s interruption saves him the awkwardness of morning apologies.

He gives Adam one last glance and turns his attention back to his benefactress. “Whom shall I charm tonight?”

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56 notes • Posted 2021-10-01 19:57:21 GMT

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