#I like everything we got with David and Kurt

[im-thekeeper]

Marvel: we need a book about Nightcrawler

Si Spurrier:

Marvel: can you make it less about Legion?

Si Spurrier:

Marvel: less?

Si Spurrier:

[scalene-4]

when i was 19 years old living in boston as a fresh college dropout (and as i would find out 6 years later, an egg) i tried heroin so that i could tell my friends about it. drugs had played a pretty central role in my day to day life since high school and like any other kid that age i tended to take anything with the right blend of danger and insight and make it my entire personality — eventually i’d learn to channel that obsessive nature fully into music and generally Being Alive but that was quite a ways away.

i got off work one night at about 2am and headed to my dealer’s house. he was the younger brother of another student i was somewhere between friends and acquaintances with — a burly paranoid typhoon of a human who wanted to be jim morrison almost as badly as i wanted to be kurt cobain. i usually would buy coke and weed from him and take whatever random pills he happened to have lying on the table; today the proverbial super mario box sporting a “?” contained something new.

“you see that bag on the table that looks like brown coke?”

“yeah.”

*laughs* “that’s heroin.”

this was it. with no shortage of shame i must admit i was really excited and had been fantasizing about this moment since age 14, walking around my high school campus nursing some heartbreak or another and listening to 40oz to freedom by sublime.

my dealer instructed me to rack out a little bump no bigger than my pinky nail (which since i bite them is even smaller than normal), and wait till i felt it before taking any more. naturally when it didn’t kick in immediately i insisted on doubling down. also as much as i’d love to leave this out i made a decisive point to put on something in the way by nirvana, which to this day sends a seismic cringe rattling down the length of my spine.

we went outside to smoke a cigarette, and immediately a new feeling washed over my body. i can best describe it as the comfort of a loved one putting a blanket over you, coupled with a really intense head rush. i sat down on the curb laughing.

anyone that’s done heroin before will tell you that it’s pretty normal to throw up. i maybe got to enjoy the initial feeling for 5 minutes before nausea took ahold — by this time we’d gone back inside and i’d found a literal blanket to lay on the couch under, but nature was calling.

i’m not sure if this was 15min or an hour, but most of my remaining memories of the actual high consisted of puking into my dealers bathtub while chugging blood orange pellegrino sparkling water in between bouts of nausea. eventually i began to come down and decided to go home, making my way downstairs to his living room. my dealers house was always directed by david lynch, the dialogue jumpy and the atmosphere thick with a decidedly bizarre dread. this entire incident his brother had been sitting in the corner of the living room spiraling out into the singularity of a xanax black hole, and he was still in position when i made it downstairs. while no one was looking, i stole two pills off the top of their fridge that i never ended up taking and they lived in the pocket of jeans i no longer own for quite some time after the fact. i never found out what they were, i think i just swiped them to feel guilty about something.

the part about this story that always sticks out to me is the visual component — they don’t tell you that heroin has a slight psychedelic component to it. everything looked like the first bit of the wizard of oz, sepia toned and monochromatic. a drug experience that had taken me straight to kansas as if it was the land of oz itself. i didn’t trust the wizard here (he was scary) and it was time to leave.

the oz comparisons don’t end at the light brown tinge to reality — i opted to walk home to my apartment as the sun was coming up, and as i navigated the boston streets still in an opiate haze my dealer rolled past me on his bike. cackling like the wicked witch herself as he disappeared into the fading summer darkness. one day i’m going to put that into a music video or something, it’s funnier the more i look back on it but at the time it was really strange and freakish and amplified my urge to get home to safety. eventually i made it to my mattress on the floor at 54 burbank street, and passed out as the sun came up.

it would take another 5 years for me to stop using hard drugs and another after that to quit drinking alcohol. i’d write sober shortly after the latter, a song about missing fucked up adventures such as the one above despite knowing all roads containing such mishaps tend to lead to the same destination. these days i find a lot of joy in seeking out strangeness without having to take a pill or snort or smoke or inject something as a cover fee, strangeness that since i’ve moved to new york city has been in no short supply. after using heroin that first time i made a point to tell everybody i’d done it, expecting shock and awe and pats on the back for some reason. i regret being repulsed and disappointed at my friends’ concern, like they were yawning at a trapeze act i’d spent months perfecting. i think i’m still learning to reckon with the piece of myself that feels as if she has to put herself in mortal danger and spiritual agony for attention — hopefully at that point i at least get a half decent song out of it. don’t do drugs kids :) or do, it’s none of my business

2 things to add:

-said dealer texted me like 5-6 years after this saying i owed him money and after responding in a panic asking what for, he said “just kidding lol” and i haven’t heard from him since. he might be dead

-i’m aware that there’s a deeply rooted and kind of beautiful irony in my posting this story for attention

[pacing-er]

Krakoa Era Reading List Cherik Version (part 6)

17. Immoral X-Men, Storm and the Brotherhood, Nightcrawlers

All Sinister stuff, tbh I lost interest pretty fast when I found out that Charles wasn't going to have a big part in it all. Each title has 3 issues, skipping forward 10 years, then 100 years, then 1000 years. I think some characters from future timelines shown in House of X Powers of X are shown, which is cool I guess. It's all pretty complicated but basically Sinister creates this timeline where everyone has a bit of his personality quirks and the mutants quickly take over the earth. There are small factions of resistance which fight against the odds to take down the sinisterified mutants, including Sinister himself who hates living amongst a bunch of Sinisters who won't listen to him. He instantly regretted creating this timeline and tried to kill one of his Moira clones to reset it, only to find that they all had been stolen by Destiny. Cue 1000 years worth of hijinks and plotting. I did find the subtle changes in the characters with the Sinister infection to be interesting, since they retain their primary personality traits but with looser morals.

This is one of the few Cherik crumbs we got 😭😭😭 it's a pretty good one though! He's hardly in these issues at all, but I also liked this Charles scene:

Evil softie 🥰

18. Sins of Sinister: Dominion

Direct continuation of the previous issues, but with more Xavier this time! It's cool to see how much of a threat he still is after 1000 years. Also we get this cute scene where an Arakki replicates Erik's helmet, which shocks Charles enough to catch him off guard. 1000 years since Magneto died and man is STILL pining XD

It ends with a timeline reset, puts us back at the end of Immortal X-Men #9. The key change is that now Sinister knows about the newest danger to mutant kind but his warnings fall on deaf ears, until Mother Righteous (another sister clone but different ig) intervenes and informs them of everything that has happened in the previous timeline. The council is compromised by Sinisters DNA, and the four affected by it are to be sent into the pit including Xavier.

19. Immortal X-Men (Issue #11-13)

Surprise! They aren't going into the pit after all. Worth noting that this is the point in time that X-Men Red issue #11 takes place during, in case anyone was wondering. That one had good Cherik bait. Whole lot of Quiet Council drama in this one, ending in an agreement to disband the council since they've all become too corrupt. They plan to announce it at the next Hellfire Gala, which Irene ominously predicts is a terrible mistake as Doug is dragged into the depths of Krakoa. This leads directly to The Hellfire Gala (2023). There are some good Charles scenes and he talks some more about missing Erik lmao poor guy!

20. X-Men Before the Fall - Sons of X

Big developments happen here. Mother Righteous reveals her goal to become a dominion, which she can only accomplish with the help of David's powers. With her assistance he is able to locate and save Nightcrawler, who was being held captive by Orchis. She kills the legionnaires and attempts to absorb David but David activates his fail safe and disappears, taking the (now empty) Altar with him. After resurrecting Nightcrawler's horns are gone but he is left emotionally damaged and decides to leave Krakoa. I thought David and Kurt's bond was sweet so I'm sad to see it go, though from some spoilers I saw this is not the end.

21. X-Men Before the Fall: Heralds of Apocalypse

Part of the post-sinister series of comics but Charles and Magneto aren't in it so I didn't read it and don't care. Apocalypse-centric.

Some good stuff in these ones! Finally we are at the Fall of X, I'm going to make that series of comics its own post. See the rest of my krakoa reading list under #krakoa era reading list

[fuckyeahfightlock]

Punk Rock Cool Kid Required Viewing (Batch 3)

Repo Man Christiane F. My Beautiful Laundrette Sid and Nancy*

(I'm rewatching all the "required viewing" films of my alterna-teen years) Notes on these films below the cut.

Repo Man (1984, dir. Alex Cox)

Written and directed by Alex Cox (Sid and Nancy, Straight to Hell), Repo Man is the slightly surreal, semi-silly story of Otto (Emilio Estevez), a California punk/malcontent who stumbles into a job repossessing cars, which tangles him up with philosophical older partner Bud (Harry Dean Stanton), a cute girlfriend, and a group of UFO-truthers, among other oddball characters.

I'd forgotten how funny this film is. Otto is a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, but with a righteousness about finishing what he starts. He's got a good work ethic. Cox's vision of a 1980s Los Angeles that's about 12% dystopian brings punk attitude, meditations on the atomic age (is there a neutron bomb in the trunk of that Chevy Malibu?), and commentary on 1980s consumer culture (EVERYTHING is generic; and as a child of the '80s I can vouch for the fact it sometimes felt like the supermarket looked like the one Otto is fired from in the opening scene). After buying a four-pack of DRINK, Otto eats from a can of FOOD; the generic groceries are iconic.

Various gangs of misfits pursue a Chevy Malibu with a glowing something in the trunk that vaporizes anyone who dares look inside (a conceit echoed in Marcellus Wallace's briefcase from Pulp Fiction a decade later). With a $20,000 repo bounty at stake, Otto competes against a pair of car thief brothers, a shadowy organization who want to prove the existence of aliens, Men in Black, a televangelist, his punk friends, and a hazmat team to reclaim the Malibu from a lobotomised former nuclear researcher who's been driving it around the southwest.

Repo Man holds up; I was glad to see it again after all these years. Reminded me of 1988's Tapeheads--not required viewing for my crew, but it should have been--which was also produced by Mike Nesmith, formerly of the Monkees. I guess vaguely wacky movies with soundtracks that are another character were his vibe.

Christiane F. (We Children of Zoo Station) (1981, dir. Uli Edel)

When the edgy older guy who worked in the video store caught on to my and my friends' punk rock rental habits, he recommended Christiane F., a west German docudrama based on extensive interviews with Christiane Felscherinow, who as a young teen found herself warping from bored/sad suburban kid to heroin-addicted prostitute in a few short years.

I think the main selling points of this film to my crowd were David Bowie--who composed the (frankly, not great) score and appears in a Berlin nightclub scene performing live--and, sad but true, the glamour still attached to heroin addiction in the pre-opiate-crisis alternaworld. I found myself feeling paradoxically enchanted and repulsed, as ever I have been (more repulsed as I came of age myself and coped with actual heroin addicts around me, the end of "heroin chic" that was the death of Kurt Cobain, and the American opiate crisis), by the alarmingly realistic depictions of heroin addiction, including unflinching close-up shots of very young people shooting up, passing out in bathroom stalls, overdosing, prostituting, and withdrawing.

When we meet Christiane, she is a sweet girl yearning for fun and belonging, wearing her satin bomber jacket and the high heels she changes into once she's out of her mother's sight, applying lipstick and glitter eyeshadow in nightclub bathrooms. Quickly she falls in with the cool crowd, starts using pills and eventually tries heroin, which drives her rapidly to robbing her mother's cookie jar money and prostituting herself at Germany's busiest train station and epicenter of child prostitution, Zoo Station.

And then she turns 14.

This film is positively harrowing; Christiane's sweet angel baby face evidences how painfully young she really is (I have a 13-year-old daughter so this really made me ache over young teen girls growing up so fast), and by the time she and her boyfriend are arguing on the sidewalk about who did more "nasty stuff" with which man, I needed to take a break. The scenes of Christiane and her boyfriend Detlev withdrawing in her bedroom are painful to watch.

The film ends with Christiane overdosing in a public restroom, though a quick denouement voiceover informs us, "I survived."

It's an interesting film from the perspective that the actors, who were all minors, would now not even legally be allowed to act in these explicit sex and drug scenes. . .its realism makes for an uncomfortable watch on many levels (actress Tatja Brockhurst relates an anecdote of shooting a scene at Zoo Station with the camera crew at some distance, and when a man pulled up she almost got into his car, thinking he was part of the scene, when what he really wanted was a child prostitute).

How I ever thought heroin--or any addiction--was glamourous, I don't understand to this day, and I am so thankful I had the good sense not to fall into that trap. I wonder how young people feel about these kinds of films, today. At the time this film was released, despite its positioning as a cautionary tale (I think of it as the west German Go Ask Alice, but based on an actually true story), German girls started dressing like Christiane, and some of the gifs on tumblr are made a bit "arty" by contemporary gifmakers so perhaps that glamourization is inevitable. I don't know.

It's free on YouTube, and worth a watch, but it is not a fun one.

(I do love this sequence of the kids running through the train station while Bowie's "Heroes" plays behind it; it was clearly an inspiration for the opening scene of one of my Top Five All-Time, Velvet Goldmine)

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985, dir. Stephen Frears)

Directed by one of the most important queer directors of the '80s and '90s, Stephen Frears, My Beautiful Laundrette is an adaptation of a play by Hanif Kureishi, about a young, gay Pakistani man (and his English punk boyfriend) trying to find independence from his overinvolved family by creating "a laundrette as big as the Ritz!"

Daniel Day Lewis gets third billing in this one, if you want to know how early in his career it was. The film is really a coming-of-age story as Omar (Gordon Warnecke) struggles to make financial good and establish himself while coping with family pressure to succeed, to marry, to become "a good English boy" in an England that refuses to accept him as anything other than a Pakistani outsider. The romance between Omar and Johnny (Daniel Day Lewis) is played without much angst, which is refreshing given this was made in the ultra-conservative Thatcherite '80s, at the very beginning of the AIDS crisis.

The film feels like a play. Not necessarily in a good way; not terrible, but sometimes film adaptations adhere a little too closely to the source material (Frears also fell victim to this in his adaptation of Joe Orton's Prick Up Your Ears, starring young Gary Oldman). The staging is theatrical, with many characters standing around in the backgrounds of scenes as if awaiting their cue, or a spotlight shift. The dialogue is sometimes obscure, relying on inference by the viewer rather than "plain talk" between the characters. There is a lot of story crammed in: Omar cares for his bedridden, alcoholic father; his uncle's huge family and business associates figure heavily, creating a sort of kitchen sink drama/Godfather vibe; Johnny has his own struggle to leave behind his criminal past and his gang of punk friends and "go legit." At times I was kind of too aware the film started life as a play; it might have benefitted from being adapted by a screenwriter, rather than by the playwright himself.

It's also a terrific example of where queerness and punk intersect, clash, and ultimately team up. Strange bedfellows, it may seem, but those who remember the very different attitudes toward LGBT issues in the '80s will agree with me when I say that being remotely "out" as queer was an act of assertive rebellion in the face of oppression and threat of real harm. Being queer was/is very punk. I was thinking a bit about this and it does sort of feel like the current atmosphere is a reversal: punk encompassed, gathered, and sheltered all sorts of misfit and edge identities--including queerness--and now it feels like that has become the purview of the LGBT community, providing some safe haven to the weirdos who just don't fit in to straight society. I'm not a sociologist, correct me if I'm wrong.

Anyway, I remember how Johnny licking Omar's neck while his punk friends stand oblivious but very nearby felt dangerous and sexy beyond comprehension, when I first saw this film circa 1987. Gay affection, let alone sexy-affection, was nothing one got to see in movies, then. My Beautiful Laundrette is ultimately a movie about a guy you want to root for, making good. Very enjoyable. I loved it then, very much like it now.

*Sid and Nancy (1986, dir. Alex Cox)

To my complete shock, Sid and Nancy is almost impossible to stream. It is only available on Plex (Poob has it for you.)--can't even rent it on Amazon, or anything!--and when I tried to watch it, the volume was so low I could not hear anything. I had my TV turned up to 97 (out of 100) and still couldn't make out what anyone was saying. No captions available, though that would not have sufficed, really; what good is it to watch a music movie when you can't hear the music? I had to turn it off. . .and go order a DVD from thriftbooks.com! So that's going into Batch 4, as I await delivery.

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

👗 Aurora + Bad if she's involved (please describe this scene!)

She's wearing this outfit but with different boots and accessories! During Bad the song itself, Sebastian spends the entire time flirting with her and it's very cute, and I'll write more about the Slushy Incident and everything surrounding that underneath!

Okay so I’m making a few moderate changes to canon with that, but I’m drawing from the one thing that’s bothered me since that episode aired!  (also warning to kurt fans, this universe isn’t particularly kurt friendly until season 4– no bashing at this point but acknowledging his shitty canon behaviour)

The slushy wouldn’t have hit Kurt’s eye!  Kurt is taller than Blaine, and Blaine was leaning over from pushing him, but the highest the slushy could have hit Kurt is his chest/shoulder.  

Before I get into the full explanation I just want to note that when I talk about the Warblers I am primarily referring to the core group (who, in this universe, are a family and all grew up together, other than Sebastian – I’ve done a lot of worldbuilding on the group politics but that’s not very relevant right now!) which is Wes, David, Thad (although the three of them are in university during this mess), Trent, Nick, Jeff, and Sebastian

So basically the story behind it now is that first of all the Warblers don’t really like Kurt (Aurora, Nick, Wes, and Thad have historically been the most vocal about this), even back when he was at Dalton.  After he convinces Blaine to transfer, which leads to Aurora being transferred against her will, that grows a lot.  Kurt and Aurora’s relationship is also getting progressively worse after the transfer (which is saying a lot) and she spends more and more of her free time at Dalton talking about this and bonding with Sebastian.  After another adventure in biphobia with Kurt, and being called both a traitor and a whore, Aurora shows up at Dalton in tears, and that’s the breaking point for the Warblers, who realize that Blaine won’t stand up to Kurt and that Aurora is too scared of hurting or losing Blaine to defend herself

So the next night when they have the competition, the Warblers basically decide that even though they can’t do much to stop Kurt, they can at least show that they’re on Aurora’s side, and the combination of slushy and rock salt will destroy whatever he’s wearing.  None of them expected Blaine to jump in front of it or get hurt, and they’re all absolutely horrified by what happened.  Aurora, as Blaine’s only family at the hospital (though Cooper has been on the phone for the entire time, since he’s their emergency contact, and Roman is already on a flight to Lima from New York and Josh is picking Amelie up from work to get to them) demands that the New Directions leave immediately, promising to throw a shit fit and get them kicked out if they don’t leave.  

The Warblers show up just as they’re leaving and tell Aurora exactly what happened (and tell the doctors about the rock salt so they know what they’re treating).  She’s kind of pissed that they went behind her back, and that Blaine got hurt, but she appreciates the intention (she still calls Wes and lets him lecture the Warblers for about two hours straight though).  They stay until Blaine wakes up, tell him the same thing they told Aurora and all apologize, and while Blaine is upset with them for wanting to hit Kurt, he forgives them for his eye.

Everything with Kurt and Santana and the recording and Black And White and all that shit happens without Blaine or Aurora’s knowledge and/or permission and both are beyond pissed about it, especially about Kurt deciding to give back the recording without asking Blaine and without knowing that they’d already resolved everything.

So Aurora is definitely kind of mad at Sebastian for going behind her back and ignoring her decision to not fight back against Kurt’s bullshit, and if Blaine hadn’t forgiven them for his eye then she wouldn’t have either, but she also appreciates that he was trying to find a way to defend her where she wouldn’t be able to be blamed and therefore wouldn’t risk her upsetting Blaine

[crazedlunatic]

Blaine’s Coming Out  Story

“Are you not going to work today?” Kurt, who usually was gone before Blaine left, looked surprised.

“I’m… having an anxious day.” Blaine bit his lip. “I already took Zach and Nick to school, though. How did the event and cleanup go?”

“Why are you anxious? What’s wrong?”

“Uhm. I don’t know that I ever told you before and I probably should have and it’s not something that I really talk about because it… makes me really depressed and sometimes it spirals quickly and…  I’ve really only talked to Derek—David’s dad— and my therapist. I had to see her every day for months, then every other day, then Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and that was after graduating to then next level of therapy because they were convinced I wasn’t suicidal anymore and that I was sufficiently at a D or D- mentally instead of wanting to sabotage or kill myself.”

“Blaine—” Kurt sputtered. “You never… you told me you had a therapist but you never said anything like that before.”

“I know. I know.” Blaine sat on his hands, clearly anxious. “I’m sorry but you never brought coming out up for me and even if you had, I probably would have lied because I always panicked when cornered about my falling grades and…”

“Blaine. You told me you almost killed yourself. Or wanted to but called and got help.” Kurt sat by him, eyes wide. “I knew it was bad.”

“It wasn’t bad… it was awful. The ages 11 to 17 probably would have killed me if Derek— David’s dad— hadn’t taken me in and he kept me with his family until I was set to go to UK because they’re just the best people. Bob and Sarah, Burt and Carole too.”

“No, I know what you mean. Back then.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you… are you going to tell Bob you aren’t going in?”

“I should but it’s not a good reason to call out because I’m supposed to be helping he and Jake with this big trial which is so over my head… which isn’t helping me right now either. I’m a mess. I just want to stay home and hide with the twins.”

Kurt looked at him. He’d seen Blaine anxious but not like this.

“I still wish I hadn’t come out to them. And that I had a support system but after I came out to my parents, suddenly everyone knew… and I was terrified. My best friends turned on my and I just got progressively more anxious and then depression set in. I had no one to talk to. Well. No. Uhm, I went to my grandparents on weekends.”

“How were they?” Kurt asked.

Blaine’s lip trembled and he said, “They were great. They both said they’d known and that they had a fund set up for me when they passed… and that they’d make sure I was taken care of… and I guess Jake took it over from there? Because his dad was my grandfather’s best friend or something… which is also really weird.”

Kurt nodded.

“A-and now I really need to go to work but I can’t make myself get up and get dressed. And how am I supposed to make an excuse? They don’t even know my birthday would coincide with it.”

“Blaine… are you sure you want to think about all of this on your birthday?”

“This was the day I had decided to do it in sophomore year.”

“Kill yourself?”

“Yeah. On my birthday. But I… I called Wes because I was too afraid to take the pills.”

“That’s why you hate doing stuff for your birthday.” Kurt frowned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know… but you should know…”

“Does Bob know?”

“Just as much as you do. It’s not something I like to talk about all the time because it takes me to a dark place and I’m afraid to get stuck there.” His voice was soft.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kurt’s voice was gentle.

“Yes… but no.”

“Let’s talk about it then.” Kurt sat down on the couch, gesturing for Blaine to sit with him. “What do you want me to know?”

“When I turned 11, we had this nice birthday party. Everything had been great. Cake, presents, the soccer team all came… it had been one of the ‘best days ever.’” Blaine swallowed  and picked at his nails as he spoke. “When the team left, I told my parents how much I enjoyed it, thanked them and everything… and told them I was gay. I had something I wanted to share with them. My mom seemed thrilled until my dad got really pissed off. He was saying all of these awful things. It got out to my soccer mates who had been my best friends but they wouldn’t talk to me anymore even though it was public school and I know there were at least two other gay kids on the team… shortly after most of them kept harassing me and the school wouldn’t do anything. They tried to sound meaningful or something about how it was good for me or something.”

“What else did your dad do?” Kurt asked. Blaine hadn’t gotten near this far any other time he’d talked about his past with his parents although Kurt knew it had been awful.

“Sometimes he wouldn’t let me eat. He would take things from me that he knew I really loved. My grandfather may have known something was going on but not the extent. I stayed over there a lot until he died and then my grandmother… I don’t know if she was trying to protect me from something else or what… but she had been a really good grandmother and I just wish I could talk to her and make sense of all of this but I never got to even ask because she died before I could know what really happened.”

“I’m so sorry, Blaine. How long before you went to Dalton?”

“After I was attacked and ended in the hospital.” His chest felt tight. “At Dalton I got so nervous in locker rooms even though nothing ever happened there. I can’t… I can’t go to work today, Kurt. But I don’t have a good enough excuse.”

“Blaine. You’re back up right now. You know he would be okay with it.”

“Yeah but the thing is I… I’m not even done explaining.” Blaine’s eyes teared up and he took several deep breaths. “Because it kept getting worse until my… 15th birthday where everything imploded. And then the grandpa was gone. And I was getting beat up in school for being gay and I just—”

“What?”

“I wanted to do it. I wanted to die. I wanted to kill myself. Sometimes I still have nightmares about my coming out and the bullying.” Blaine shuddered a bit as though he was cold. “I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much this year, Kurt. I don’t want to do anything to myself. I just… I don’t know how to not go to this place. I think maybe it’s because we have the boys and I can’t fathom making them feel this way.”

“Can I… Blaine, can I call Bob? I know he would want to make you feel better about this.”

“He’s going to be annoyed because he’s kept asking me what’s wrong for days and I—I don’t lie to him but I didn’t want to get to this place. And he’ll be worried.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I don’t want him to see me like this.”

There was a knock on the door. Not a normal one. Several knocks.

Kurt got up to answer the door knowing exactly who it had to be.

“What’s happening? He’s not answering me, Sarah, he even ignored Charlie and Sam.” Bob followed Kurt into the main part of the house.

Blaine had his hands covering his face, not wanting Bob to know he’d been crying.

Bob sat on the couch next to him and put his hand on Blaine’s thigh, eyes locked with Kurt’s.

“Sorry.” Blaine choked. “I couldn’t… I can’t… I…”

“You should have called me, Blaine. I’m always here. I was worried.” Bob said, looking at Kurt who looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Kurt sat on the floor in front of Blaine, hand on Blaine’s knee as he cried even harder.

“You’re okay. You’re perfect how you are.” Bob was reassuring him. “You’re here despite everything you’ve been through. You and Kurt have perfect babies and you’re such a great dad. Don’t you think otherwise for a second, honey, because you are already so much better than I was with Charlie as a six month old.”

Blaine shook his head, face red from all of the crying.

“Yes. You are.” Bob protested. “I will remind you every day until I die if I have to.”

“I can’t say it all again.” Blaine whimpered. “I can’t.”

“It’s okay.” Kurt said.

“I don’t need to hear it until you need me too.” Bob made eye contact and then pulled Blaine into a super uncomfortable hug.

Blaine wiped off his face and let out a few shuddery breaths. He was silent for a few minutes before wiping his eyes and then leaning against Kurt.

[seph7]

20 Years of Breakdown

4th May 2017

This week, with no fanfare - not so much as a goose fart - the Kurt Russell starring, simple, tense and exciting 90s thriller, Breakdown turned 20. 

The 90s were strewn with thrillers like the desert is apparently strewn with lank haired hillbillies looking to abscond with your wife, Breakdown, though, I think, stands out above most of them.

It is for this reason, and many others - including boredom, nerdyness and attention - that I decided to celebrate its 20th Anniversary on this very website.

Very quickly, for the uninitiated, Breakdown is a fast moving thriller about a hard-up yuppy couple, traveling cross-country to their new home when some malevolent truckers kidnap the wife and try to force the husband to pay a ransom he can't afford. With quick thinking, timing and blind luck, the husband must turn the tables on the kidnappers and save his wife. 

By the time 1997 rolled around we were all aware that Kurt Russell was very much 'the man'. There was seemingly nothing he couldn't do: Comedy, sports, action, sci-fi and rock a beautiful feathered mullet without blushing or losing credibility. Even Captain Ron could not stop the Russell juggernaut. 

The 90s Russell gave us Tombstone, Stargate, Executive Decision, the return of Snake Plissken in Escape From L.A. (I like it - see here) and Breakdown. While most of those films, if not all of them, will get or have got "special editions" and/or "anniversary editions" where is the love for Breakdown?

Kurt had, twice before in the 90s, dabbled with the seemingly-average-yuppy-with-a-mullet turns desperate action man role - in Unlawful Entry and Executive Decision - in Breakdown he's at it again but I think in an even more believable, desperate and insecure way. Audiences knew by then that, when the chips were down, Russell would do his best to kick some serious ass but I wonder were they prepared for him to be quite so out of his depth for quite so long as he is in this movie.

I, personally, love it and feel like he earns his heroic moments all the more by giving us a protagonist we can see ourselves in and, ultimately, root for. 

As the kidnapping antagonists of the film, there is no greater threat than the combined power of M.C. Gainey's moustache and the evil, powerful eyes of everyone's favourite bastard villain, J.T. Walsh. The two of them have more on-screen menace than they do initials. 

Russell had bested a madly hammy Liotta in Unlawful Entry and easily defeated the terrorists of TV's Hercule Poirot himself, David Suchet in Executive Decision but even we Russell friendly audience members fear he may have met his match with the denim clad, trucker cap sporting J.T. Walsh.

Everything about the 90s go-to arse-hole, Walsh, oozes an attitude of "I could not give two healthy fucks about you". He is such an unbridled delight to watch being mean and shouty with everyone. He had a career that spanned over 20 years and yet, despite being burned forever into our brain as a malevolent son-of-a-bitch, his reign of playing villains really only ran from 1987's Good Morning Vietnam to his tragic death in 1999 ((1998)). Just 12 years but he made every single squinty eye, sweaty brow, snarled insult and pursed lip count. 

The movie is splendidly directed with a keen eye on the rugged Americana of it all but also a sturdy, uncomplicated, understanding of how to tell a story, build tension and shoot action without waving and shaking the camera around like a spasmodic gibbon. It's an age old gripe from me, I know, but the biggest failing of straight-to-video thrillers these days - that hope to ape the strong, simplicity of a classic like Breakdown - is they can't film a simple conversation without epilepticly wobbling the camera around like the operator is bursting for a pee. It may sound like old man "get off my lawn" moaning but go back to a film like Breakdown, made by a director you probably wouldn't know if you tripped over him in the street, and marvel at the excellent storytelling ability of such a film. 

Speaking of Jonathan Mostow, the director of Breakdown, he sadly would never follow up this success with anything that comes close. The re-writing of history, submarine, war movie U-571, Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines and the Bruce Willis sci-fi dud Surrogates are the sort of stunningly average, flawed and run-of-the-mill Hollywood dreck that most wouldn't want on their resume. However, you only have to make one classic to be celebrated forever and, for me, Breakdown is it. So Mostow gets a pass from me, even a one-hit-wonder is worth humming from time to time.

Breakdown feels like a 70s movie and, more than that, it feels like a 70s Ozploitation movie in a weird way - maybe it's the dessert road setting, I don't know. It's a lean, economical, thrilling, tense and engaging film with a dynamite cast and some strong, but not showy, direction. If you haven't seen it, I can't urge you enough to track it down and give it a watch.

[happylandfill23]

23, 20,1 and 8 for the music asks!!!

thank you for the ask julian!! /gen

23. what's a song that makes you feel like a hot badass?

"cat people (putting out fire)" by david bowie!!

20. SHOW ME A PICTURE OF ONE OF YOUR FAVORITE ARTISTS. RIGHT NOW. I NEED TO SEE THEM.

instead of being painfully predictable and putting a photo of damon albarn, here's kurt cobain with a cat :]

1. what is your favorite song. right now. tell me.

oh man. it's hard to pick but one i've been really enjoying lately is "all i think about now" by the pixies

8. tell me about your favorite band. go on infodump for me.

oh boy get ready for me to infodump about gorillaz

i just love everything about them tbh, i loveee the music and the art and everything. i think my favourite album is probably demon days, not just by them but in general and when i found a copy of it on vinyl i literally cried in the middle of the store lmao you would think i'd actually seen damon and jamie there in the flesh i could not calm down. but it's in my possession now and i love it. only problem is it doesn't have the fade between dirty harry and feel good inc and it skips a bit during dare but it's perfect otherwise and every time i hear the fade between don't get lost in heaven and demon days i cry even though i've heard that fade several times before on my cd of the album it just. hits different on vinyl idk. i think phase two also has my favourite art style of all the phases?? idk though i loveeee the plastic beach artstyle and they all look so cool in their outfits (i even have that plastic beach era poster that i'm pretty sure everyone has lmaoo) and i love cyborg noodle!! i wish what happened to her was more clear and not changed like a million times, i also would've thought it would be cool to see her and noodle become friends. THEY COULD'VE BEENN SISYERS :( but no :(( also plastic beach always makes me sad i really really wish damon and jamie had gotten to do everything they'd wanted to with that album and it makes me so sad thinking about all the lost music and stuff. especially crashing down cuz that snippet from the russel ident was so beautiful :( also why did they delete all the plastic beach teasers from their official youtube channel??? like all the close-ups of the gorgeous model they built pretty much just for the album cover with the little snippets of music we never got (i'm quite fond of the one known as mr. light, which based on what we hear in the snippet i think it was reworked into damon albarn's daft wader, which is a gorgeous song from a gorgeous album) and the little character idents too. my favourite one is probably the cyborg noodle one, i love the creepy music and how we get to see what all the wires and stuff look like, it's just super cool. the russel one makes me really sad though :( man russel has been through so much. he deserves better man

ok this turned out even longer then i thought it would lmao i'm adding a cut before this rambling session 😭😭

thank u again for the asks btw!! /gen

[leweekendrock]

A Le Weekend Retrospective - Part 1

Like the night sky, the band Le Weekend has been around more than 15 years. While the night sky lazed around and contributed nothing to anyone, the band used the time to write songs, play shows, and put out recordings at what couldn't be called a breakneck pace. Responding to a fantasy where there was popular demand to hear our story, please enjoy–or failing that, read–a retrospective in some number of parts.

So this is the first part. It covers 2006 to 2008, in which we formed the band, released our first EP, and sadly parted ways with two founding members.

SOUNDTRACK: https://leweekend.bandcamp.com/album/suite

DISCLAIMERS: 

The writing is mostly Matt. Don’t blame the whole band for what follows.

This isn’t supposed to be (slash hopefully isn’t) a nostalgia trip. Those are for things that are over. We’re just demonstrating some ongoing history behind this thing we do and keep doing for some reason.

I’ve tried to avoid the social media pose of pretending to be an Important Band. It’s hard to avoid entirely when writing anything, as suggesting something is worth your time is already bold. But we’re merely a Good Local Band in the sense of all three words, and mean well.

Finally, if you’re looking for Salacious Details(!!), you’ve come to the wrong band. Here are the three most shocking excerpts from the whole thing:

The booking agent hoped I wasn’t miffed. Miffed?! I was downright perturbed!

“Looks like you’re going to the Grammys!” our manager exclaimed, turning the laptop screen our way. “This Photoshop stuff is really something.”

And THAT, my dude, PROVES Kurt Cobain and Anthony Kiedis were talking about the same bridge!

And those are all from my correspondence course How To Write Shocking Excerpts.

The year was 2006. I was out of my 20’s, and my last band (Hotel Motel, now ending) had gotten together through alt.music.chapel-hill. It was time to put the next band together through Gmail, which was the style at the time. The phrase “jam sandwich” appeared in an acceptance email that also warned me “That was your out.”

We got Robert Biggers on drums, because I played with him in Audubon Park, knew him to be gifted on various instruments, and we were friends going all the way back to the 20th Century.

Through my good friend David Nahm, we got connected with Ben Ridings on lead guitar, and Ben introduced us to Missy Thangs on keyboards and vocals. Both hailed from the excellent early aughts Asheville band Piedmont Charisma.

At this point we needed bass which meant Bob Wall. I’d only recently learned he played bass (knowing him for guitar and drums) when during downtime at a Hotel Motel practice he whipped out Steely Dan’s “The Boston Rag." They say you learn everything you need to know about a bassist when they play ‘The Boston Rag’ on the couch, and they're right!

So now we were formed. And such well dressed people.

(Photo by Ben Spiker. l-r, front row: Missy Thangs, Robert Biggers, Ben Ridings; back row: Bob Wall, Matt Kalb)

We started with a few songs I’d already written in the sense that I write songs, which means a clear idea of structure, chord progression, and my guitar part–at the level of a good working draft–combined with vague-to-no ideas for the rest of the band’s parts. As in, I’m open to hearing what they'll bring, and zeroing in on it without a predefined landing place. That’s both HOW I WANT TO DO IT, but also something I worry about being NOT THE REAL WAY TO DO IT.

Because, yep, when creating music, one of the things I love doing most, imposter syndrome is in full effect much of / most of the time! I also didn’t know Missy or Ben very well, and in my usual (overly literal) way of interpreting their feedback about looking for more direction, I swung over to giving way too much direction, arbitrarily filling in the blanks I’d have rather left for the band, because I thought that was what was being asked. We figured it all out, of course.

In bands with this individual freedom and responsibility, sometimes everyone effectively (if unconsciously) wants everyone else to be all done with their experimentation, presenting an unwavering idea while their own experimentation continues. Sartre talks about this and didn’t even have a band, I’m pretty sure. Plus the songs were, as rock/pop goes, fairly complicated, lending themselves to situations where one person could be learning how it goes while another is past that and working in tweaks and changes, which throw off the first person, rinse/repeat. But we figured out how to get through that too, of course. To me, every new song feels like the one that will never get learned, and every one’s gotten learned so far.

Within a few months we had several songs together and played our first show, a WXDU thing at the Duke Coffeehouse, thanks to the unseen or possibly seen (I couldn’t find my emails for this) hand of Ross Grady. That made things feel more real, as it usually does for bands starting out. We did a cover of “Hold The Line,” which we learned that day and never returned to. It was more of a fun-for-the-first-show kind of thing.

About a year after that we started working on our debut recording, Suite, with our friend Nick Petersen at Go! Studios. This was the first of many great recording experiences the band would have with Nick over the years.

My favorite memory from these sessions is from "Blinded Me With Silence", which is also my favorite song from the EP. I wanted two layers of disorganized improvisation from several guest musicians, mostly playing marching band type instruments. I explained what we were doing, threw my arms wide shouting “Go!”, pulled them back in shouting “Stop!”, and we repeated once more. At which point Robert helpfully weighed in over the PA, “Your music is dumb!”

Credits for 13 SECONDS OF NOISE x2

Crowmeat Bob Pence (trombone)

Dave Cantwell (parade bass drum)

Kerry Cantwell (parade snare drum)

Chuck Johnson (Ben's guitar)

Jeff Herrick (trumpet)

Rob Koegler (toy percussion)

The centerpiece of the album, kind of the theme song of the band at this point, was "Le Weekend Suite". It came from a self-assigned writing exercise, after Robert mentioned his college songs tended to move from part to new part to new part, etc., going off in many interesting directions and often back to part 1 for an end (“snake style”), but he’d wanted to write something that folds back in on itself.

I considerately stole the idea and made it work in the most natural way possible: forcing in advance that it just had to work because that’s how the song goes. The song, progressing through parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 (‘the great divide”), then rewinding through new versions of 4, 3, 2, and 1, was slowly and (for my patient band mates) excruciatingly born. As in, this one took quite a while to write, arrange, and learn. But I definitely think it’s a highlight of the EP.

By the way, alternate iterations of a part would itself become a recurring theme, explored at full song level on our 2nd album, aka the one that got ALL THE ATTENTION, and at the part (shared across multiple songs) level on our 6th album, aka the one that got ALL THE PANDEMIC. It had a small role in our 4th and 5th ones as well. What can I say? I’ve had one idea and it wasn't fully mine to begin with.

I can’t remember which song led to Bob internally debating which single held note he used to play and/or should play, but I think it might have been “Le Weekend Suite” as well. Recapped in the famous line “Bob’s changed his mind about his notes” in our next album.

The CD design came from our friend Lincoln Hancock using photos from Ben Spiker, the start of another very fruitful tradition for the band. I mean, look at this thing.

(Layout by Lincoln Hancock, photo by Ben Spiker)

And we got a very nice review from Grayson Currin at the Indy.

Unfortunately, at this time Ben and Missy decided it would be best to step away from the band after our release show at the Nightlight. This was on very friendly terms, and they encouraged the three of us to continue. We opened with the trio playing “Lower yr action” (soon to be part of our first LP) as a nod to what was coming next, then played our last show as a quintet. To thunderous applause, at least in my own head.

We’re very grateful to Missy and Ben for their contributions to the early life of the band, and for encouraging us to keep going. While they’ve each got great performances all over Suite, one of my favorites is the middle section of "Rock staple, scissors". Just listen for the ON FIRE keyboard lick and you’re there!

During the time frame of this installment, we played these shows.

11/11/06 - Duke Coffeehouse - DEBUT OF LW - WXDU FALL BENEFIT w/ Grappling Hook, Noncanon, Natasha, Scene of the Crime Rovers

03/01/07 - The Reservoir - w/Darker Brighter and Goner

05/24/07 - The Cave - w/Audubon Park 

07/30/07 - Bull City HQ - w/Mahasamatman and Minchia 

08/23/07 - Nightlight - w/Grappling Hook 

09/25/07 - Duke Coffeehouse - w/Dirty Projectors and Ecstatic Sunshine

10/16/08 - Bull City HQ - w/Cantwell Gomez & Jordan and Impossible Arms

11/06/08 - Duke Coffeehouse - TROIKA 2008 w/Red Collar, Sorry About Dresden, Pink Flag, and Sequoya

12/04/08 - Nightlight - CD RELEASE FOR SUITE w/Actual Persons Living or Dead, Crash, and dj NASTY BOOTS

And that’s all you get! For now.

[holmesandtheroman]

The Season of the Witch — Kurt x Baba Yaga (Rated E - Explicit)

One Shot (?)

Summary: After the events of Infinity War, Kurt's childhood nightmares start up again. One night, he receives a visit from the very thing he fears, but he finds that perhaps she is everything he never knew he needed.

A/N: As you all know, I am a HUGE supporter of Baba Yaga from the Marvel Comics making her MCU debut and her becoming Kurt's powerful hot Russian witch gf (David Dastmalchian supports it too but I digress). In any case, I HAD TO WRITE THIS BECAUSE HE DESERVES TO FUCK THIS RUSSIAN GODDESS. Please read the warnings because Kurt is definitely a slut for her in this. (Also, please forgive any mistakes I made when writing the Russian language. I tried my best). This is really bad and I'm sorry.

WARNINGS, PLEASE READ: Magical sex, worship/goddess kink, Dom!Baba Yaga, Sub!Kurt, slight mommy kink, rough sex, slight choking, assisted masturbation, voyeurism (blink and you miss it), praise kink, prolonged orgasm

Kurt awoke in a cold sweat, his hands clutching his pillow to his chest. The echoes of a nightmare dissipated before he could even grasp at the memory of what he had dreamed. He sighed and pressed his hands to his face as his thudding heart eased. Kurt reached over to his phone on his bedstand. He squinted at the brightness when he picked up the phone and read the time: 3:00 am exactly.

Koldovskoy chas, he remembered his grandmother warning him as a small child. The witching hour.

Kurt knew he would not be falling asleep again anytime soon, so he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He stood and stretched, his back popping comfortably. He then padded to his kitchen area and opened his fridge. He reached for his prize: vodka. Forgoing a shot glass, he brought the entire bottle to his kitchen table and sat heavily in the lone chair. Kurt unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his lips. The cold, bitter alcohol tumbled past his lips and burned his throat going down. As the liquid warmed his belly, he felt himself relax slightly. He had not had a good night’s sleep since the Blip.

When the Blip happened, Kurt, Luis, and Dave were at X-Con’s office. Scott was with Hope and her parents as they assisted the ghost girl by going to the quantum realm once again. If he was being completely honest, Kurt did not fully understand the ins and outs of quantum stuff, but he was happy to support Scott from afar.

In any case, on the day of the Blip, the other three members of X-Con were working, but the news was on in the background. The anchor was reporting on extraterrestrial anomalies that had occurred in New York City and Edinburgh only the day before. Now, there had been major activity that appeared to be targeting Wakanda. Kurt’s stomach had been in knots, but he was not fully concerned yet: with such widespread anomalies, the Avengers would certainly be on the case.

Kurt looked up from his computer to see Luis sat back in his seat, watching the television with rapt attention. “Man, this shit is fucked up. I mean, we got aliens here again; like what are the odds after New York a couple years ago?” he said to the room.

Dave sighed and stood as he went to the fridge. “As long as they don’t bring that shit over here, I’m good.”

Kurt glanced over at the television, and nothing could have prepared for what he saw next: the anchorman paused, placed his hand on his earpiece, and exclaimed, “What?” before his visible hand began to disintegrate into ash.

“What the fuck?” Kurt murmured.

“Yo, what the fuck! Dave look at this shit!” Luis exclaimed as he stood. The anchorman had now disintegrated into ash. The camera cut to two other anchors, whose mouths were agape.

“Oh, shit,” said one of the other anchors, who was beginning to turn to ash. The woman next to him screamed and jumped away.

“Uh, guys?” Dave said.

Both Luis and Kurt looked at Dave, who was staring at his hand, or rather, the ash that was his hand.

“What the fuck! Fuck, fuck!” Dave screamed as he fell back, more of his body dissipating into ash.

Kurt and Luis rushed over to Dave, but by the time they got to him, Dave had completely disintegrated and was nothing more than a pile of ash on the ground.

Outside, the sound of several cars crashing came, along with screams of terror. Kurt ran to the window, and could not believe he was witnessing pedestrians share the same fate as Dave and the anchormen. Others who were left, were scrambling around in the street. Kurt happened to look up, and saw a plane in the distance careening toward the ground.

“Oy yebat’,” Kurt muttered as he witnessed the chaos outside. Oh, fuck.

“Yo, man, I can’t get Scott on the phone,” Luis said. He took his phone away from his ear and dialled another number.

Kurt stepped away from the window, silent in shock as he sat back at his desk. He ran his hand through his hair.

“I can’t get Hope either…” Luis’ voice drowned out as panic truly set in for Kurt. What the fuck had happened, and what the fuck was going on?

That had been year ago, but Kurt still found it difficult to sleep. Other than Dave and Scott, he had not lost anyone personally. However, nightmares plagued him; not of the Blip, but his mind had regressed to the nightmares he had when he was still a child back in Russia.

When he could remember his dreams, they were always the same: Kurt was alone in his family’s apartment and the doors and window were locked. It was night, and certain lights would not come on. In a pitch black corner, he could see two glowing red eyes that stared into his little soul. Kurt was frozen in his spot and unable to run away as a decaying woman’s hand reached out from the shadows to grasp at little Kurt’s pajamas. And just as the hand would clamp down on his shoulder, he would hear a raspy voice all around him, “U tebya budet takoy khoroshiy vkus….” You will taste so good.

As Kurt placed the vodka bottle down, he realized he had drank almost all of the vodka. At this point, he did not care. He imagined that the dream he had just awakened from was another variation of his childhood nightmare of the witch his grandmother had warned him about: Baba Yaga.

It was foolish, he knew, to still believe that she was real. It was entirely illogical, but the fear of the enigmatic crone still nagged him at the back of his mind. The ghost girl had scared the shit out of him, but she had ultimately made clear that her affliction was caused by a quantum accident. Still, the fear of the Russian witch had not gone away, especially since the Blip.

Every so often, while doing mundane tasks, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up as he felt as if someone were watching him. No one ever was, and when he confided to Luis about it, he was ultimately talked out of his paranoia.

As he rolled the vodka bottle around in his hand, the sensation of being watched returned. At this point, Kurt had become used to it and did not even bother to look up again. He sighed and stood, the nearly empty bottle in his hand, and went back to his bed. The watching sensation followed close behind, and, even though he knew no one was there, he was secretly glad he did not sleep nude.

Kurt sat on his bed, but he froze when he suddenly heard slight movement in the darkened corner of his bedroom. His eyes widened and he swallowed, silently praying that it had just been his imagination.

Another noise. And then he felt a presence on the other side of his bed.

“O Bozhe moy,” he whispered. Oh, dear God. He refused to turn around to the sound, his mind rushing with the warnings of his grandmother.

“Ona yest tvoy strakh,” his grandmother warned. She eats your fear. “Tak chto postaraytes’ podavit’ svoy strakh.” So try to suppress your fear.

Kurt swallowed again and began to whisper the song he was taught to keep the witch at bay. “Baba Yaga come at night… Little children sleepy tight…” He shut his eyes tight and laid down. “Baba Yaga give you bite… Lay in bed, don’t be upright…”

“I see you know my lullaby,” said a woman’s voice from the darkness.

Kurt let out a frightened sob as his heart pounded. His ears roared with the rush of blood, and he shook violently. He willed himself to keep his eyes closed and whimpered the rest of the lullaby.

“They teach it to children to keep me at bay, but if you listen to the words, it’s only encouraging… more fear.” Her hauntingly soothing tone sounded as if she were circling the bed to stand over Kurt.

He pressed his hands into his face as the lullaby was now barely coherent in his abject terror. He then felt two soft hands gently grasp his wrists and guide them away.

“Shh, kotyonok,” she breathed in Kurt’s ear. “Everything is all right.”

Kurt was still hyperventilating as his hands trembled in the woman’s grip. She released one of his wrists and took his other up in both of her surprisingly warm hands. She caressed his palm, her touch sending calming shockwaves through Kurt’s body.

“Please, please, don’t hurt me,” Kurt whimpered.

The woman chuckled deeply. “Why would I hurt the one who has sustained me all these years?” Kurt sensed her lean over. Her lips brushed his ear when she whispered, “Your fear has been delicious.”

Kurt moaned as he tried to crumpled away from the woman. He rolled over, his eyes still squeezed shut. “Don’t eat me, please!”

“So you know who I am,” the woman stood straight. Kurt nodded swiftly. “Look at me, kotya.”

“Please,” Kurt begged.

“Your fear will go away. Look at me and say my name.”

For a long while, Kurt stayed silent, hoping the woman would leave and not hurt him. He quieted his breathing as he tried to listen for her departure.

“Kurt,” she said with such gentleness, it was nearly enough to calm him.

He shifted slightly, considering her request. What would she look like? Would he be ready to face the witch that had haunted his sleeping mind? He finally opened his eyes; life had been upended in the Blip. What did he have left in this world to live for?

Kurt rolled over, his eyes trained down as he was not ready just yet to face the witch.

“Look at me, Kurt,” she cooed.

Kurt’s gaze lifted slowly, the moonlight from the window on the opposite wall illuminating the witch’s countenance. She wore a short, formfitting, forest green sarafan, with shimmering golden embroidery that shone like stars. The white long-sleeve shirt beneath the sarafan nearly blended in with the pale skin of her hands.

Her hands. Kurt was shocked that they did not match the grotesque, decaying claw that extended from the darkness in his nightmares. They looked as soft as they had felt: they were dainty and limber, similar to a pianist’s hands. He had felt the gentle strength of her fingers when she had held his hand, and there was a constant and invisible magical energy that emanated from her hands.

Kurt raised his gaze the rest of the way, and he faltered at the witch who stood before him. She was not a rotten crone like his grandmother had warned she was: her face was young yet wise beyond her perceived age. She was tall and elegantly Amazonian. Her features were ethereal and god-like, mainly because she was a god. She was a Dieva.

The full moon caused her to appear as if she were glowing; for all Kurt knew, perhaps she was glowing. Her blonde curls were tied up, but a few strands had fallen to perfectly frame her fair face. Everything about her was perfectly beautiful, but the only thing that gave Kurt pause was her blood red irises. Even then, her eyes discerned him with gentle observation and curiosity.

“Baba Yaga,” Kurt marveled in awe verging on newfound reverence.

The witch smiled, her dark pink lips forming a smirk. She waved her hand, and black smoke curled around her fingertips and floated to the lamp on the nightstand. The bulb flickered on, the darkness banished around them now.

“You’re…” Kurt swallowed.

“Not a monster? An old crone who eats children?” She chuckled. “Most of those stories are meant to harbor fear towards me.” She tossed her head. “Rather ingenious, don’t you think?”

“I…” Kurt paused. “I don’t understand.”

“I am a goddess, kotya. I live off of the fear people have for me.” The witch sighed. “Since the Destruction, I have been starved. I roamed the Earth searching for my fear. Everyone’s fears came to pass. They have none left. Except for you.” She leaned over and gently caressed Kurt’s cheek. “This is how I found you… moy liubumiy. Your nightmares were deep rooted in your childhood fear of me. They sustained me. You kept me alive, and I am forever grateful.” She pressed a kiss onto Kurt’s forehead, and another spark of calming energy flooded through him starting at the place her lips touched him.

“What can I do for you, kotya?”

“Why do you call me that?” Kurt asked softly as he looked into her eyes, her red irises disarming him.

“Why have you believed in me for so long when many are still children when they stop?” The witch began to card her fingers through Kurt’s black hair. “Because you are special. You are special to me, and you’ve always known I was there.”

Kurt nodded swiftly. “Every moment, I felt you near me. You never left.”

“No.”

“Even when I felt nothing, you were there, far away. I could not escape you, Baba Yaga,” Kurt admitted. “Part of me did not want to.”

“Kurt Goreshter,” the witch hissed as she pressed against Kurt’s seated form. “You are mine…”

“Yes,” he whimpered, his fear long since exchanged for reverence and desire.

The witch tilted Kurt’s head back as she devoured his lips in a deep kiss. Kurt allowed her to take over his mouth, not even caring if this had been a trick and was going to siphon off his life. He was at her mercy, but then again, he always had been.

She broke the kiss, allowing Kurt to breathe again. “You have always been mine,” she stated. “Tell me, miliy, what do you want from me?” She straddled Kurt’s legs and pressed her core against him, her lips still centimeters from his.

Kurt suddenly realized how much heat he was emitting, and that he was thoroughly aroused. He strained against his boxers, desperately wanting the witch to touch him and relieve him. If this was a result of her magic, he did not care. This woman, a powerful and ancient deity, was his superior in every way. She had found his fear and fed off it, easing his anxious mind. She had emerged from the shadows and from nothing. She was a goddess, and here she stood before him. She could break his neck and end his life… and that was exhilarating. His heart raced in his chest, his skin burning where she touched him. Oh, he was gone.

Kurt’s trembling hands hovered above the witch’s waist, worrying that he would be punished for touching the Dieva goddess. “Dotron’sya do menya,” he stammered. Touch me. “Please…”

The witch stood straight and waved her hands, the black smoke magic draping her as she magicked away her sarafan and stood before Kurt, naked. She pressed her milky white skin against Kurt, her breasts so close to his face, and began to pet his hair. “How would you like for me to touch you, kotya? Gently?” She ran a finger down his jawline. “Or perhaps…” She took a fistful of Kurt’s black hair and jerked his head back, a gasp emitting from his lips. “You like for me to be rough with you?”

“Rough…” he rasped, his eyes glancing hungrily to the witch’s breasts.

She raised an eyebrow. “Say my name,” she demanded, a smirk forming.

Kurt swallowed harshly. “Baba Yaga,” he murmured.

The witch leaned closer to him, her breath tickling his face. “Louder.”

“Baba Yaga,” Kurt cried slightly louder, but not too loud so as to be mindful of his neighbors.

The witch smiled and released her grip in his hair. She stood straight again and gently guided Kurt’s desperate mouth to her nipple. “Moi horoshiy,” she praised. My good boy. As he suckled her, she let her head fall back and a moan escaped her lips. Kurt doubled his efforts as he longed to hear her make that noise again, his hot tongue dancing around her sensitive bud. He pressed his hand against her back as if to bring her closer to him.

She reached out and grabbed Kurt’s other hand and placed it on her other breast. Kurt’s fingers immediately went to work as he toyed with her neglected nipple, which sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She moaned once again and felt Kurt’s erection twitch against her thigh.

“You like to hear me, kotya?” she asked breathlessly. Kurt only sighed in response. The witch grabbed his chin and wrenched him away from her breast to look her in the eye. A line of saliva still connected his wet lips to her hardened nipple. “Answer me like the good little boy you are, miliy. Do you like to hear me when you pleasure me?”

“Yes, God, yes,” Kurt’s reply came out strained. He reached for his boxers to palm his erection. “Prekrasnoye sovershestvo…” Beautiful perfection.

The witch suddenly grabbed Kurt’s wrist with such force he thought he might find a bruise later… he did not mind. She held his hand away from his straining cock. “That is for me,” she insisted. She waved her hand, and both of Kurt’s wrists were suddenly bound with a black rope behind his back. Another flick of her wrist and Kurt’s torso was draped in black smoke. When it disappeared, his undershirt had disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers.

She snaked her hand up Kurt’s chest, her nails leaving chills beneath her touch. She slid her hand up to his throat and squeezed. Kurt swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath her palm. His breath quickened as she leaned closer to him. “Would you like to know my real name?”

“Not Baba Yaga?” Kurt wheezed. She eased her grip over his windpipe, but kept her pressure on either side of his neck.

“That’s a name to scare naughty children,” she hissed as she pressed a kiss against Kurt’s lips. “My true name, the name I want you to scream is…” she brought her lips to Kurt’s ear. “Yekaterina.”

Kurt shivered at her breath against his ear. “Please,” he whimpered, his hands twitching behind him as his erection begged to be relieved.

The witch grinned almost wickedly. “Such a needy little boy,” she uttered before she climbed onto the bed and stood on her knees behind Kurt. She placed her hands on his shoulders, slowly letting one wander down his chest while the other gripped his throat. “What do you think I should do about that, kotya? Hmm?” She kissed the sensitive spot beneath his ear and then nibbled at his earlobe. “Should I touch him?” She dragged her hand over his stomach and stopped at the hem of his boxers, one finger creeping under the elastic.

Kurt groaned as he could feel her magic swirl around his cock with such featherlight touches that he could not be sure he was actually feeling anything.

Once again, the witch waved her hand and magicked away Kurt’s boxers, his erection bobbing free in the cool air. She inched her hand further down, but refrained from touching his cock. “Maybe if he says my real name…” she suggested. Her fingers tightened slightly around Kurt’s throat.

“Yekaterina…” he sighed as his head fell back against her shoulder.

She brought her hand to his lips. “Otkryt’,” she ordered softly. Open. Kurt dutifully opened his mouth and she dipped her fingers into his wet mouth. She pushed them to the back of his throat and just as he was about to gag, she withdrew, her fingers now drenched in his saliva.

Yekaterina brought her lubricated hand back down to Kurt’s erection and slowly wrapped around his heated cock.

Kurt cried out and shut his eyes, pleasure shooting through his body.

“Yes, moi horoshiy. What lovely noises you make for me,” she praised. He whimpered once again as she began to slide her hand up his cock, her thumb stroking his purpling tip. Kurt bucked his hips into her hand, and she stopped her movement. “Stay still, kotya.”

“I—I can’t,” he whined. He tried to steady his breathing, his cock twitching in her hand.

“For me,” she said gently. “Stay still for me and you will know unimaginable pleasure.”

Kurt nodded, not knowing how much better he could possibly feel.

“Good boy,” she whispered, and her ministrations began again. Kurt shuddered beneath her touch. He let his head fall to the side against Yekaterina’s neck. His heavy breaths heated her skin, and a moan came from his chest whenever she swiped her thumb across his slit as she pumped up and down.

“Bystreye,” he begged, his voice tremulous. Faster.

Yekaterina obliged, her hand masturbating him as he wished. After a few pumps, she swiped his tip again and felt the sticky pre-cum against her thumb. He was close.

Kurt was a trembling mess and extremely vocal, his whines and moans coming with every exhale. “Chtob menya,” he cried into Yekaterina’s ear. Oh, fuck me.

“Yes, kotya, you want me to fuck you?” she breathed as her hand went faster. “You want to feel a goddess around you? To know what it’s like to fuck a Dieva?”

“Yes, God, pozhaluysta, let me fuck you!” Kurt begged, his voice cracking. He was close to the edge, a band within him tightening.

“Then cum for me, Kurt,” she ordered.

“I can’t—“ he stuttered. Beads of sweat formed at his brow.

“Trust me, kotya. Cum for me,” Yekaterina soothed. “Say my name and cum for me.”

Something snapped within Kurt, and he felt his balls tighten as he lurched forward. “Yekaterina!” he grunted. As soon as he said her name, the pleasure that swam through his body was magnified by a thousand, and he nearly screamed as his eyes shot open. He knew her magic was amplifying his orgasm; he saw stars and convulsed as he came, streams of cum shooting from his cock and onto Yekaterina’s hand. Ecstasy flowed over him in waves, seemingly never ceasing, his hips involuntarily bucking into Yekaterina.

As his orgasm began to abate, his breathing also began to return to normal as vision returned to him. He had fucked many women and even a few men, but no one had ever come close to giving him what he now considered the best and longest orgasm of his life.

“What a good little boy,” Yekaterina said as released his cock and pressed a kiss onto Kurt’s slack mouth. When his thoughts returned, he kissed her back.

He felt his hands release behind him, Yekaterina’s magical bindings disappearing. He brought his hands up to the witch’s face as he reciprocated the passion she brought.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” she asked when she pulled away, her finger tracing his cheek.

“I can’t, now—“ Kurt began.

Yekaterina smirked wryly. “You forget, kotya. I am a goddess.” She pulled Kurt back onto the bed and straddled him in one quick motion, moving him so that his head was now at the head of the bed.

Before Kurt had any time to speak, he felt an energy rush through him, and arousal once again forced his cock into an erection. His breath shuddered, his awe at her power growing. He swallowed.

“Why do you want to do this?” he asked. “I should be worshipping you.”

Yekaterina crawled up to face Kurt and she began to trace his lips. His dark eyes watched her every movement. Her red irises burned through him as she said, “Because you are mine. You belong to me, Kurt Goreshter. And what good is moi horoshiy if he isn’t satisfied by his own goddess?” She grinded her hips against Kurt’s, her own wet heat teasing against his erection.

Kurt’s eyes closed at the sensation of Yekaterina’s arousal against his cock. It drove him mad to be this close to a goddess who wanted him, who desired his body. This had been his reward for his fear; he had been worshipping Baba Yaga without even knowing. And he had been found worthy of her. It may have been her magic messing with his mind, but he could no longer stand it: he wanted to be inside her… now.

“You are certainly eager, miliy.” Yekaterina said as she ran her fingers through Kurt’s chest hair. “I must confess: I have waited so long to make you mine, to have you surrender completely to me.”

Yekaterina slowly aligned her entrance with Kurt’s cock; he whined as he felt her dripping heat against his tip. “Pozhaluysta, vyyebi menya!” Kurt cried, his trembling hands resting on her thighs. Please, fuck me.

“With pleasure, moi horoshiy,” the witch smirked. She sank down onto Kurt’s cock, and his eyes rolled back into his head at the sensation. He sighed lewdly, his hands gripping Yekaterina so hard that she might have bruised if she were mortal. But she was no mortal, and with the divine euphoria that came from her tight walls around him, he absolutely knew: she was the witch of his nightmares and dreams; she was the enchantress he was warned about throughout his childhood and told to fear in the shadows; she was the goddess of witchcraft who would eat him alive given the chance.

When Yekaterina had adjusted to his presence, she began to rock her hips against his languidly. He thrust into her rhythm, seemingly with no conscious control: it was purely carnal instinct at that point for Kurt.

Yekaterina angled her hips forward and moaned loudly as the friction of their thrusts met her clit and sent sparks through her body. She clenched around Kurt, which caused him to gasp and groan in return. He suddenly rolled his hips into her harder, and his cock finally met her G-spot.

“Fuck, kotya,” she growled, and she snaked her hands underneath Kurt’s ass and lifted him, proving that she had the strength of a Dieva to position him in such a way that would assure her own pleasure.

Kurt met her ministrations thrust-for-thrust, Yekaterina’s magic apparently sustaining his libido. She was fast, much faster than anyone he had ever been with, and before she had even been fucking him for a minute, he had returned to his precipice.

Yekaterina leaned over Kurt, never faltering in her rhythm. “I want you to cum inside me, moi horoshiy,” she panted, her blonde curls plastered to her forehead with sweat. “Do it, and I will reward you.” Kurt nodded, and she pressed a long, hungry kiss against his lips. This time, there was no control on her end: the kiss was sloppy and erratic, a sign that she, too, was close.

Kurt moaned against her, the thought of him pleasuring a goddess sending him into his final throes. Yekaterina stifled a moan as she stilled and clenched around Kurt’s cock again and again. This careened him over the edge, and for the second time that night, he saw stars as his body seized in his own orgasm. As his first rope of cum landed inside of her, Kurt felt an additional wave of pleasure course through his body. He nearly screamed as his orgasm punched him again and again to the point he was sure he would pass out. When he thought he was nearing the end, another wave rushed through him, this time actually causing him to yell Yekaterina’s name again and again.

Kurt thought his heart was going to explode in his chest by the time his orgasm subsided. His skin was hot to the touch, and his hair was drenched in sweat. He opened his eyes, still too dizzy to see straight. His cheeks felt wet, and he realized that tears of ecstasy had fallen from his eyes. He panted, completely spent and out of breath.

“Shh, kotya,” Yekaterina cooed as she stroked his cheek. Only then did he realize that the witch was still on top of him and he was still inside her. “You did so well for me.” She kissed him once more on the corner of his mouth. “So good for me.”

Still breathless, Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but Yekaterina pressed a finger against his mouth. “Shh, catch your breath,” she insisted. She sat up on her hands and knees and pulled herself off of Kurt. Immediately, he missed her warmth and longed to be in her again, despite the fact he was no longer aroused.

Yekaterina laid beside him and continued to pet him, moving her hand to his chest and stomach. Her blood red irises watched Kurt as his breathing returned to normal. Beneath her touch, she felt his heartrate slow.

After a long while, Kurt turned to look at the witch, who was still observing him with dusky curiosity. She smiled at him.

“You’re wondering if I truly am Baba Yaga,” she guessed.

“You never said it yourself,” Kurt pointed out.

She chuckled. “I am Baba Yaga,” she admitted. “Don’t worry. You fucked the right witch.”

“You will leave?” Kurt asked.

Yekaterina sighed and rolled on her back. “The world is broken with sadness. I am a forgotten myth, now. No one fears me.” She turned to smile at Kurt sadly. “Not even you, my kotya who sustained me.” She placed her hand on his cheek. When she touched him, however, her smile dissipated. She sat up.

Kurt sat up as well, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“You still fear me?” she asked, her thumb stroking his cheek.

“You are still a witch. You can bring things back to life. Your stories have truth in them,” Kurt explained.

Relief washed over Yekaterina’s face. “You need to rest, miliy. Morning will soon be here.”

Kurt grinned mischievously and scooted closer to Yekaterina. “I find that I am not so tired anymore,” he said as he gently kissed her.

Yekaterina touched the back of his head with her black magic, and Kurt fell back, already asleep by the time she placed his head on his pillow. She stood and picked up the duvet that had been discarded a long while back and covered Kurt with it. She magicked a short nightgown onto her body and cleaned herself up at the same time. She turned out the lamp and leaned over to press one last kiss on Kurt’s forehead.

“I’ll be here when you awake, kotya,” she whispered.

Kurt’s cell phone alarm woke him, along with the early morning San Francisco sun that streamed through his window. He sighed in exhaustion; his dreams last night were intense. He was even sore from them.

He turned off his phone and pushed the duvet off. Kurt was instantly cold, and he looked down to find the reason why: he was naked. This puzzled him. Certainly he had not removed his clothes in his sleep…

He stood and found a fairly clean pair of boxers and slipped them on. It was only then he realized that he was smelling something from his kitchen. It was a burning smell: someone was cooking.

Kurt opened his bedroom door to find a tall, blonde woman in his kitchen. He blinked in shock. So he had not been dreaming…

Yekaterina spun around with a plate in her hand. “Good morning, kotya,” she said cheerily.

Kurt said nothing, but he approached the kitchen. He looked at the spread on the countertop. It was all hot breakfast foods that he knew he did not have in his apartment. Maybe a spare box of Chinese takeout and some eggs, but certainly not—

“I made some syrniki,” Yekaterina said as she pointed a pair of tongs at a stack of pancakes. “Tvorog, ponchiki, zapekanka…” She gestured to the other food items and handed Kurt the empty plate in her hand. “Priyatnogo appetita!”

He still did not move as he looked over the food before him. “How did you—?”

“Kotya, I’m a witch,” she said simply. “Now, please. Before it all gets cold.”

“So… you’re staying?” Kurt asked.

Yekaterina smiled. “As I said before, your fear is delicious.” She came over to his side of the counter and kissed him passionately. “Besides, you belong to me now, miliy. Right?”

Kurt gazed at her blazing red eyes before he glanced down at picked up a syrniki. “Always,” he replied, happy to bend his will to the witch.

(I'm so sorry you had to read that)

[staczak91]

A list of some of my favorite musicians and why

I’m bored right now, so listing, in no particular order, some of my favorite musicians over the years and have stuck with me for my life so far. 

Music has always been an integral part of my life and I love it so so much. Just hearing the perfect song or finding that album that speaks to you is amazing.

So, yeah, here are some musicians that I love love LOVE! No surprises in here for people that know me.

The Beatles

I grew up with this band! My mom adored them and now I adore them. I’m more partial to early Beatles, but they made great music all across their years as a band. Favorite Beatle? I don’t think I can choose. They’re all perfect in their own way. The first rock band. The first boy band. The first musical obsession of my life. Thank you, Beatles, for everything you have given me. 

Kurt Cobain (Nirvana)

I fell in love with Kurt and Nirvana in college after my mom’s death and never fell out of love with him or the band. They’re my go to band when I’m feeling sad or angry emotions and need to just let it out. I found Kurt’s story amazing and believe he is a songwriting genius. Unplugged will always remain my favorite Nirvana album and live performance. 

Jack White

Jack White is one strange man! But I believe that is why I really love him and his music. He makes great straight-up rock music and I love him in whatever form he chooses to express himself: White Stripes, solo, Raconteurs, all of it is fantastic. I fell in love with his music in college after my sister introduced me to his music and, again, never fell out of love. His guitar-playing skills are legendary and he has a great voice to boot!

Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse was another college mainstay that I’m still in love with all these years later. I listened to both her albums numerous times and watched the film Amy, which was so sad and enlightening. I wish we all could have seen her growth as an artist and see her become even more of a legendary performer. Her jazz-infused pop was a breath of fresh air and she’ll always remain a favorite of mine. 

Taylor Swift

I had to include Taylor on this list! Been a fan of hers since Fearless but didn’t become a bigger fan until 1989, when I was hooked and never looked back. She doesn’t have a bad album to her name, and seeing reputation live was simply the icing on the cake. Her music and lyricism is perfect and on point and I’m so happy I became a fan of this legendary artist. She’s one of my all-time favorites and I will always love her and her music. Cannot wait to see what she does next.

Jeff Buckley

I found Jeff Buckley’s music a year after I graduated from college totally by accident and so happy I stumbled on his work. Grace is one of the most perfect albums I’ve ever heard and I wish we could have seen his growth as an artist. I’m sad we will never see more from this songwriting genius who was so empathetic and so real. One of my all-time favorites who has stuck with me for life. I simply adore Jeff Buckley.

David Bowie

My mom also adored Bowie and passed that adoration down to me. I remember his death hit real bad when it happened and the whole world was in mourning. And for good reason too. He was just a musician who was so full of life and was so so talented. He deserved everything he got in life. I’m still rocking out to his songs now and will never grow tired of this man’s legacy. Thanks, Bowie, for the good times.

Elvis Presley

I fell in love with Elvis in eighth grade and never looked back! Once I found out I shared a birthday with him, that’s it: I was hooked. And I’m still in love with his persona and music now. The ultimate rock star. He just shed cool. And was a marvel of an entertainer, from musician to rock star to movie star, he did it all. And he was able to move deftly between so many genres too. Really, I love Elvis, and I’m not ashamed. 

Harry Styles

Harry is a new love of mine, but I had to include him. I must admit I’ve never been a One Direction fan and even after discovering Harry and listening to them, I don’t think I’ll ever be one. (Sorry, guys.) But Harry’s solo music is a breath of fresh air in this kind of boring music industry now. He’s controversial and fun and his music is phenomenal. Fine Line is one of the best albums I’ve heard in years, and I’ll be singing “Lights Up” and “Adore You” until the day I die. Although Harry is a new love of mine, I believe I’m gonna love him and his music for years to come. Cannot wait to see him live and see what new great music he has in store for us. Really, I’m unabashedly in love with the guy and I have no regrets. 

Honorable Mentions:

For those who I outgrew or haven’t made my all time favorites list. 

Billie Joe Armstrong (Green Day)

Including him as an honorable mention. I used to be in love with Billie years ago as a kid and a young adult, but I kind of outgrew his music. Sorry not sorry, I have so many great memories with him and the band, but I just can’t really listen to them anymore. I guess I grew out of them. Still, though, it was fun while it lasted. I just feel like Green Day aren’t really trying anymore as a band and because of that I’ve lost interest in them. Again, sorry not sorry. 

Beyoncé

Okay let me get one thing straight: I love Beyoncé, her image and her music. But she isn’t in my all time favorites, even with these loves. I think she’s great and extremely talented but I have to be in the right mood to listen to her. Which is why I’m adding her to the honorable mentions. Don’t get me wrong. I love so many of her songs and albums. But...well, I just really have to be in the mood for her music. Still, though, she reigns.

Led Zeppelin

Same thing with Zep. My dad adores this band and it’s one of his favorites. But I can’t force it. I have to be in the mood for them. They’re fantastic, I won’t argue against that. But they’re also heavier than what I usually listen to. Still, when I want to bond with my dad, we usually listen to Zep together. 

Bob Dylan

Dylan is a goddamn poet and I love him! But again I just have to be in the mood for him, which doesn’t happen very often right now. Still, though, I won’t argue against his greatness. He truly makes masterpieces. At least his first few albums and in his younger days. 

Adele

Adele has a powerhouse voice and is technically a favorite of mine. But I find sometimes her music is missing something vital, which is why I put her in the honorable mentions category. Again, I realize how talented she is and am not saying otherwise. But, yeah, I’m usually in the mood for her but at the same time, find some of her music lacking. I’m sorry, Adele. I still love your brand. 

Well, there you have it. I’ve listened to loads of music growing up and I’ll continue to do so and find new music to love. But these are some of my all time favorite musicians and some honorable mentions. Hope you enjoyed the lsit! I know I enjoyed writing it! <3

[karofsky]

alright okay alright okay. s3 starts, blaine's still at dalton, klaine never got together bc kurt never transferred and instead had the og storyline of helping dave + falling for him during it all that never came to fruition bc dave wasn't ready. sam never moved bc the writers weren't stupid and kicked chord out. samcedes had a summer fling that fell out because mercedes felt pretty unsure of the whole thing but MOSTLY her future and wasn't sure sam would be a part of it.

west side story comes around. or like, in this case, a more racially sensitive choice, they're actually doing Grease. Rachel/Mercedes battle for Sandy. Kurt still needs the role for his NYADA app (as well as the presidency-- see later). Hummelberry trying to get Sandy and Danny, Kurt still get's hatecrimed by the three for being Too Gay (even though... it's Danny like. Come on).

Meanwhile Sam, in an attempt to win Mercedes back, auditions for Danny, and is the clear front runner. Rachcedes diva off, they give it to Mercedes, but she is so afraid of everything going on b/w her and Sam that she deflects and gives it to Rachel instead, and quits to start up the Troubletones because she needs space. Sam initially says he'll quit but Kurt declines to take it AFTER--

he felt pretty shunned by the directors and realized he didn't want to have to be something he wasn't just to appease the masses, and would instead make his own way. he puts all (most; he's still cast as Kenickie lol) of his energy into his presidential campaign, WHICH he has a brand new campaign manager by his side: David Karofsky!!! Who ran into him when Kurt was eavesdropping on all the post-audition talks. The two of them maintained a friendship over the summer but things are awkward, and it's also very clear to us that whatever had developed between them romantically (read: mutual pining that was never addressed) still exists, but is a bit more tense.

After kurt explains what he's heard and about how he needs this presidency, Dave gives his full support and says he'll def be voting for him. kurt asks him for a favor, and the next we hear from them, dave's running as both manager and vp to kurt, and they're in a whole political campaign race with brittany (they still lose, because kurt can't have ANYTHING, but you know, they gained each other. or something. kurt really needed a support system in s3 and i think having dave would have been a good idea AND a good contrast to last season)

[notarelationship]

In A Minute - Klaine Advent Edition: Day 5 orientation

For Klaine Advent this year I’m going to try to finish up a story I started writing in 2019, but never finished because of *waves hands around* everything.

It’s a fake-dating story called In A Minute, and you can read the existing 4 chapters on AO3 here, or on tumblr here.  I originally expected the story to be another 2-3 chapters (or maybe 2 with an epilogue), so it should work out in the end, provided everyone behaves themselves.

Each Klaine Advent entry this year will continue the story, chronologically, i.e., I won’t be jumping around (unless the story calls for it). The word counts for each are likely to be all over the place; some could be 100 words, and some are sure to be more. I probably won’t post every day, but I’m not planning on doubling up any words of the day, so expect one entry per word. I’ll probably update AO3 when I have what feels like a chapter’s worth of story.

Thanks to everyone for reading!

-

Klaine Advent 2021 Word: orientation (ish) Word Count: 651 Warnings: none

Previous: silence, ceiling, obligation, ancestor --

“Michelle, wait,” Blaine pleaded. “It’s such short notice, we’d have to pick a song, and rehearse, and what if the band doesn’t want us to do it? And we don’t even know if Sebastian’s and my voices even sound good together! What if we sound like screeching cats, or… or Sylvester Stallone and Dolly Parton?” Blaine could feel himself starting to panic. He did not want to sing a romantic duet in front of 200 guests - including many members of his family, with Sebastian Smythe. 

“Ooh, nice Rhinestone callout,” Kurt murmured to no one in particular.

“Don’t be silly Blaine,” his mother interjected. “I’ve heard you both sing, and there’s no way it won’t sound good. And as for the band - well they’re a wedding band for goodness sake, so I’m sure things like this happen all the time. And it would be such a nice thing to do for your cousin.”

Blaine looked at his mother and tried not to glare, he couldn’t help but believe that she had somehow maneuvered to make this happen. It would be just her style. Over her shoulder he could see Sebastian smirk.

 “Why don’t we pull together a short list of songs that Michelle and David like, and that we think we can handle, and we can email it to the band,” Sebastian suggested. “That is, if Kurt can spare him for a few minutes?”

It didn’t look like Blaine was going to be able to get out of this, at least not without making a scene, and he was determined not to do that. It didn’t seem right to do that to MIchelle. Blaine sighed and reached down to slip his hand into Kurt’s. “Kurt could join us. He’s in musical theater, and he used to be in the glee club in high school, and he has a pretty good sense of my range.” 

Sebastian’s eyes darkened for just a second, but he plastered on a smile and said, “Of course.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand tightly. Blaine knew Kurt had never heard him sing, and probably didn't have a great sense of Blaine’s anything. But he needed some support and Kurt was the only person at this wedding in his corner. Except maybe his dad, and he still hadn’t told Kurt about that conversation. What a long day.

Half an hour later they had a short list of songs that Michelle sent to the band, who responded right away to say they’d get back to her in the morning. They also confirmed that they had time to rehearse a song or two with her guest singers. 

“I’m not sure about a couple of those songs,” Kurt said, after they’d excused themselves from the group. Blaine could tell Kurt was dragging him toward the bar, and he wasn’t going to protest. “Your cousin and her fiancé don’t really strike me as the Troy and Gabriella type.” 

Blaine smiled. “Ah, but High School Musical is timeless Kurt.” 

“I think you mean ‘dated’ Blaine.” When they got to the bar Kurt ordered a glass of red wine and a gin and tonic for Blaine. 

“Am I hitting the hard stuff?”

“I thought you could use some reorientation after all that.” 

Blaine nodded. Kurt wasn’t wrong about that. “I’m sorry this has been weird.” Kurt looked at him confused, and handed over his drink. 

“What do you mean?”

Blaine shrugged. “Oh I don’t know, my mom, Sebastian, the nap thing.” Blaine was at a loss. It had been such a long day. “Everything?”

Kurt smiled. “Oh come on, a wedding isn’t really a wedding until there’s some unexpected drama; the groom hasn’t slept with any bridesmaids, or the best man -” Kurt winked, “That I'm aware of anyway. Michelle is barely even a bridezilla, and you warned me about Sebastian in advance. In fact, he’s the reason I'm here. It's hardly been weird at all.”

[hoochy-coo]

Sure! Shall we move onto the 90s? / Yessss! I have feeling we can get here one of my and probably many favorite celeb couple ever.

SORRY THAT I AM SO LATE! This completely slipped my mind.

But here we go:

Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder: Like do I even need to say more? It’s the ‘Wino forever,’ it’s ‘Johnny is my first everything. I’ll always love him’ and it’s the Tim Burton films they starred in together. I’m not over them, I know you’re not over them either, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think Johnny is over them either because he’s never been the same ever since she broke their engagement.

David Bowie and Iman: He met her and basically never left lol. You can tell he loved and admired her so much just by the way he looks at her and that’s really all a woman could want tbh.

Brad Pitt and Gwyneth Paltrow: Ok now this is one of those couples that’s ‘so different that they work,’ although I’m pretty sure Goop was way more laidback back then than she is now after discovering kale, pussy scented candles and fad diets lol. I have no idea what these two have in common other than looking alike and dressing alike, but aesthetic you know?

Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson: It was toxic, it was sleazy, it was messy but they did it three times so that’s pretty iconic in itself.

Hugh Grant and Elizabeth Hurley: So beautiful and hot that it’s unfair. This couple has earned a place on this list just for that red carper moment where Liz showed up in that Versace safety pin dress.

Will and Jada Pinkett Smith: I know Jada airing out their business of Red Table talk every 10 business days has tainted their image as a power couple but I still think they’re really cute together

Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love: Grunge royalty and I know we all think Courtney is a bit coo-coo for coco puffs, but I believe that she truly did love Kurt and he loved her too. It was definitely toxic but you know what, they inspired each other to write some of the best music ever so we kinda won.

Matt Dillon and Cameron Diaz: WHY DID THEY BREAK UP WHY?? THEY WERE SO HOT AND FUNNY AND CHARMING. WE JUST WANT MORE OF THEM. In Dillion’s own word, this relationship changed him - which is fair enough because if I dated Cameron Diaz, I’d probably be a changed human as well.

Spike Jonze and Sofia Coppola: They were the coolest, most alternative, most hipster, most artistic couple that happened in the 90s imo. I also liked that they were friends for years before they got together, that always make for a solid base to a romantic relationship. They also inspired each other’s best movies so that’s pretty iconic if you ask me

JFK Jr. and CBK: They’re like Jackie and Jack’s cooler and slicker twins. CBK basically overhauled her entire image to be a Kennedy and became just about the chicest woman in NYC during that period. I also love that JFK was the one panting after her like a lovesick puppy while she kept acting like she didn’t give a fuck to date someone as high profile as he was. It ended in tragedy, which is highly unfortunate because I think most fashion lovers would have loved to see how Carolyn’s style would have evolved over the years and most politic nuts would have liked to see if JFK Jr. did end up following his father’s footstep.

[piratewithvigor]

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool 

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously. 

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged. 

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

[crazedlunatic]

Bragging Rights

If you have time and ambition I would love to get a drabble with burt and Bob talking about the boys, you know the parents just bragging. Like around the dinner before the wedding?. I always come back for your story whenever life is hard for me. Thanks for sharing

“You may be one of the luckiest managers in the world to have gotten Blaine. I offered him a job setting up appointments in my garage.”

Bob, who had only met Burt a time or two, perked up when he saw Kurt’s father. “Blaine in a car garage? He did not.”

“I mean I was desperate one day and he made it two hours before saying he’d met his ‘straight guy quota’ for the day.” Burt laughed. “How’d you land him, though?”

“Oh, well, I hate having interns because they mess everything up on accident… but my cases are usually very sensitive… I kept refusing but I’d had a two-month stint in the hospital after a plaintiff tried to off me.”

“Two month stay?! In the hospital? Not recovering?”

“Yep. In the hospital.

“Wow. Cancer or something?” Burt looked surprised.

“Nope. I was walking my dog late at night. Murphy was 17 and he… didn’t survive. It was awful. Anyway, I was mostly high on Dilaudid back at work and turned, like, three interns down over the span of a few weeks… and then Blaine. Didn’t know he’d got the run around when I was out and his whole semester could have been fucked up because he fell through the cracks. I was annoyed to take him on but now I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“Did you know Kurt had a thing with his lung—”

“Yeah, I bet that was awful. I can’t imagine any of my kids going through that. Blaine talked about that a time or two… I’m almost fifty and I can’t even understand how all this violence somehow keeps getting worse. Who in the flying fuck cares what two other people do in bed?”

“Have met talked to the Thompsons?” Burt asked, gesturing towards the Thompsons and Changs talking together across the room.

“I don’t know who they are.” Bob admitted.

“But you know David and Wes?”

“Oh, they’re hilarious. We had them all over for dinner. My wife would probably have the three of them over all day if she could.” Burt gestured to where the two couples were talking. “Mr. Thompson is the one that kinda… got Blaine the help he needed. I don’t think the Changs were too involved in it.”

Bob nodded, making a mental note to introduce himself to them as Miles approached his chair and reached up.

“He is too cute.” Carole came over, smiling.

“You people keep saying that and he gets a bigger head.” Bob laughed as Miles tried to hide his face in his shoulder. “How about Kurt? I mean, Marc Jacobs is up there, right? None of my kids are famous… yet.”

“You’re famous enough.”

“Yep. And Kurt wears skirts.” Burt shrugged.

Miles rose his head up and then tilted it, looking at Bob confused. “Huh?”

“Yep.” Burt looked directly at Miles. “I think it’s silly but Kurt says it’s fashion… good fashion, I guess, since he makes a lot more money than me.”

“I’m at the point where I barely look at what I put on unless I have a trial, a meeting, or Sarah’s just laid something out that she prefers whatever that means. They all look the same.” Bob shrugged this time.

“Same at the garage. So how is Blaine doing as a lawyer?”

Bob gave him a look.

“Bad?”

“Of course not. He’s the hardest working lawyer in his age range the whole office has seen in years. Shit, sometimes he’ll still get my paperwork and start on it for me… although I’ve told him I’ve got it a million times.”

“Did you have it?” Burt looked amused.

“No.” Bob rolled his eyes as Sarah came back. He then added, “For someone whose parents were so awful he has such empathy.”

“How lucky are you two to get him as a son in law tomorrow?” Sarah smiled brightly.

“Oh, this has been years in the making. I knew that break wasn’t going to last. These boys are too predictable. Well, Blaine is. Kurt not so much.”

“You must not have heard about the trip to Canada.”

Burt, Carole, Sarah, and Bob looked up when a man stopped by.

“Canada?” Carole asked.

As if on cue, Blaine whipped around and made his way over causing the man to laugh.

“Yeah. On their break. They were going to Harbor Springs to stay at our beach house… but kept going to Canada.” Derek said. “I know because one of them went headfirst through a wall or something. They also smuggled a Canadian dog into the states… Although I imagine Blaine was probably hung over by the time that happened. He doesn’t handle his alcohol as well since everything at sixteen.”

“How do you get the stories, Derek?” Burt asked.

“Because they trust me to not say any of the stories to their bosses.” Derek laughed.

“Whoops. I heard nothing.” Bob said, looking amused as Blaine came up.

“You can’t sit at this table anymore, Bob.” Blaine said, mostly joking. “You and Sarah should go somewhere else.”

“You knew I was going to wander over here eventually.” Derek said. “To be fair, David and Wes were the troublemakers. Blaine usually got pulled into stuff… once the police were called on something that Wes did. The Chang’s went to pick them up—but Blaine had apparently been reading while the other two were trying to get into the Dalton building… even though it was summer.”

“Yeah, I was reading.” Blaine sighed. “Not quite an accomplice but I still got to see them get yelled at by you. Do we have to be doing this right now? Tonight?”

“Well, kid, Kurt doesn’t have good stories to share.” Burt said. “He doesn’t get into trouble… minus that tattoo. Which still isn’t even a good idea.”

“Speaking of, where is he?” Bob asked. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Uhm, I think he’s talking to a designer from London who was visiting Marc.” Blaine said distractedly as Dana came up, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Don’t worry, Blaine. I won’t tell your boss about your DUI.” Derek laughed.

Blaine’s eyes widened in horror and he said, “That… is my boss.”

“Oh crap.”

“Been there, known that.” Bob wasn’t fazed.

“Please. Please, if you’re able to get a hold of Wes’ dad… he’s got hilarious stories too.” Dana said to Burt and Bob. “Most of them aren’t even confidential. You won’t be sorry.”

“Can we not do that please?” Blaine asked before following Derek somewhere.

“I want to hear these stories.” Burt said eagerly.

“You should want to hear good stories. They’re accomplishments.” Carole sighed but clearly wasn’t upset.

“Kid could murder someone and I’d still take him to dessert before turning him in to the authorizes.” Burt shrugged, causing Bob to laugh. “Worst Kurt did was come home drunk and puke all over my favorite t-shirt. I somehow managed to get it out, too.”

“I can’t picture Kurt drunk.” Sarah said.

“It’s adorable.” Carole said. “It’s most adorable when they’re drunk together but I don’t think that’s happened since five summers ago.”

“With everything I’ve heard today, it sounds like Kurt and Blaine have had it pretty rough in different ways.” Bob sighed.

“It’s gotten better.” Burt reassured Bob. “I think doing so well at your firm has also done wonders for him. We’d talked ‘bout it a bit the other night. He admitted he doesn’t feel like a fraud anymore.”

Bob let out a loud laugh at that and then said, “Kurt’s never even doubted himself. To be honest I’m amazed he’s here at all. Both Kurt and Blaine have matured so much. It’s great when your kids achieve their dreams. sounds like Kurt’s going to be famous. I hope he’s ready for the spotlight.” Bob cringed.

“Think it’ll be bad for him?”

“I don’t know because it’s so different. To be honest I’ve landed in the hospital more times than I can count… but I also go against bad guys. Murders, sexual assault. I’m the lawyer that brought charges on Casey Anthony.”

“I knew you looked so familiar!” Burt gasped. “I knew it.”

“Yep.” Bob sighed. “Also the Boston Marathon bombing. They actually called me to the courthouse as soon as they realized what was happening so we could get ahead of the media chaos. That was awful having to talk to the families and stuff… also while making sure my pregnant wife was okay and my oldest two were safe in school because they went to school not too far away.”

“Casey Anthony. I remember they showed your opening and closing speeches. Pretty powerful.”

“Thanks. I wrote it ten minutes before the actual trial started.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t recommend that on Court TV.” Bob laughed.

“Now, you wouldn’t be signing Blaine up for anything like that?”

“Lawyers choose their own cases except in very special circumstances. I try to push him out of his comfort zone enough so he’ll have more experience but if he says, ‘Hey, I really don’t want to do this,’ then I’ll find someone to take it… but he hasn’t disappointed me yet… and I trust him to know his limits and I think he trusts me to give him solid advice.”

“How many people are you over?” Burt asked.

“Two hundred thirty…” Bob looked up at the ceiling. “Seven. Yeah, two thirty-seven between the two firms.”

“Gonna give that to Blaine one day?” Burt joked.

“He wouldn’t want it and I wouldn’t want to put that on him. Would you want to put Kurt over your garage?”

“Kid knows his way around a car fairly well.” Burt pointed towards where Kurt and Blaine were standing and talking with Brady and his boyfriend.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. He’d never admit it though.” Burt chuckled. “Blaine knows absolutely nothing about them. I constantly had to force him to get an oil check.”

“That sounds about right.” Bob laughed. “But I wouldn’t change him.”

“Same. Wouldn’t change Kurt either. I’m interested to see how both he and Kurt will be with babies. He was always scared with Melody at first.”

“Oh, he’s always been great with Miles! Blaine takes him to the park all of the time. Sometimes Wes’ daughter will go too. I bet he’s wanting practice.”

“You prefer being called Bob?”

Bob cringed and said, “Not really but it beats Dick which is what people called me when I first started in law. I’m named after my dad so I’ve mostly gone by Robbie outside of work.

“I get that. I get called Burt Reynolds.” Burt rolled his eyes as Melody ran over towards them. “I bet this is the ‘Mommy needs you’ which is—”

“Mommy is cold and wants food that hasn’t been sitting outside.” Bob finished.

“It was great talking to you. We’ll have to talk more tomorrow, okay?”

“Definitely.” Bob promised. “See you soon.”