#blam fics

[lifegrowsfromashes]

Scar stares up at the moon, from where he lays down in his bed. Grian’s across from him, muttering into the darkness, laying on top of the covers and tucking his head into his wings.

The air smells like dirt.

He thinks of the past day. Of the shouting. He wonders whether Grian will talk to him tomorrow.

He didn’t mean to lose a life. he never does, but something always happens. Grian knows he’s not as strong as the other hermits, but he still refuses to recognise it, and always expects more from Scar than he’s able to give. It was once they’d gotten to the desert that his face became harder, that something began to set behind his eyes.

He sighs. The perfectly arranged checkerboard of stars stare back at him, silent. Grian’s snoring, but just a little. He wonders if avians usually snore.

Scar breathes in the smell of their dirt house, and wonders whether he’ll be able to make it up to him.

He was joking around, when it happened. The sand was getting into his armour and he felt creaky all over. He’d known it was getting to Grian, but hadn’t realised the extent of his annoyance. Communication was… never a strong point.

They had started getting snappy with each other, at about midday. Scar’s limbs were aching, and he needed to rest, but Grian kept talking about how there were no torches around here and if they stopped now, they’d get eaten alive. And Scar didn’t want to think about that, so he tried to tell a joke, and Grian went all tense and funny, and said, through gritted teeth, ‘you’re seriously making a joke right now?’ and he didn’t have time to see the creeper coming up from behind him.

Something had hardened in Grian’s eyes. The urgency when he told him to run. The enchanted shine of his diamond sword coming out of its hilt.

Scar hadn’t realised. The sand had slowed down his reflexes. Once he turned around to fight, he only heard a hiss, and then- white.

The funny thing about dying here was that you didn’t feel the pain, specifically. It’s more, like, God, this should hurt. But nothing comes. Just a choice, to keep going, or to leave. 

Scar hated the artificiality of it. Death always felt so- unreal. For some players, it was the end of everything, but to him, it was more of a reminder. A taunt. He knew he'd never last long enough to escape its clutches.

When he came back, he felt lighter. Emptier. Something, some intangible thing, had withered his soul, a little. He looked up at where his nametag resided to see it was a sickly yellow. And then, coming over the dune of sand- Grian. Sat there, in the crevice the creeper had made, sorting his belongings into a chest.

Grian’s fists were curled tightly over the lump of gold in his hands. The totem. The totem Grian had told him, over and over, to use in an emergency, to keep by him at all times. The totem Scar had stored in a shulker.

Scar did his best to pick everything up off the floor, and to sort it all out into his inventory, But Grian had such a tight hold on that totem of undying, and when Scar asked for it back, Grian’s eyes began to shine with tears. And then he started shouting. 

It was all the usual things. Scar didn’t react fast enough, Scar couldn’t pull his weight, Grian was always picking up the slack, and why couldn’t he last longer than five minutes? And didn’t he know he’s only got three chances, and he’s already down to two? 

Scar got pretty good at taking it. The thing was, he knew the reason why. the real reason. 

Grian hated watching him die.

But he’d never say that. Instead they were trapped in this loop of Scar messing up, and Grian exploding, and him doing everything, everything he could, to fix it.

Usually, Mumbo would be the one to sort out their differences. Mumbo would tell them somthing to calm him down, something easy, about their explosive personalities. 

Scar wonders where he is, now. After the Warden had appeared, anyone who was able to survive that first attack had ran as far as they could. They hadn’t heard anything for the other Hermits for- well, it had been too long to tell.

Scar turns over to face Grian again. He looks so peaceful when he slept. There's still that fire, though, behind his eyes, the memory of his voice scorching Scar’s ears. But, as Mumbo said, that was how you knew he cared. Scar knew he cared. He just wishes he could show it in a way that was less… aggressive. He feels like the only way he could find out how Grian really felt about something was through fighting. And, God, he's so tired of fighting.

[cyrus-badman]

I've got a little scene from my loft AU for you guys!!! Hope you like it!!

Game night

Over the last two months, Kurt, Rachel, Santana, Blaine, and Sam have fallen into an unintentional yet rigid routine of sorts.

Mondays are the quiet, stay-in nights. On these days, everyone is tired from the day, still decompressing after the hard shift from weekend to work or school.

On Tuesdays, the five of them all go out together, either to Callbacks―the karaoke bar Rachel was so eager to introduce them all to, frequented by all of her NYADA friends, Brody included (Sam likes Brody; he’s nice, he’s hot, and they both understand what it’s like to compromise yourself for money)―or just out to dinner for a nice evening. Typically, they opt for the former, though that inevitably morphs into Rachel Berry Diva Hour, wherein the diva competes with herself for Best Bar Performance of All Time™ and “allows” everyone else to participate by being her “adoring audience of loving fans”. One time, Rachel and Kurt dragged them all to yet another Broadway show, though Sam can’t remember its title. He was reluctant at first―he has this thing where he pretends to hate all musical theater, and he’s pretty sure Blaine has to resist the urge to throttle him every time he does it; Sam wouldn’t worry too much about that, though, as Blaine looks adorable when he’s pretending to be upset with him―but after the show, he was vibrating in place, and even engaged in an enthusiastic conversation with Rachel―Sam is still surprised that that ever happened anytime he thinks about it―wherein the two of them practically talked over each other in all their excitement.

Wednesdays are movie nights. It’s a little unconventional, but in their case, they have other plans for the last day of the work week. Every Wednesday, the five of them (sometimes six, if Sebastian is over) alternate between who gets to pick the film. Most often, this results in a rom-com from Kurt, a Broadway classic as Rachel’s choice (Funny Girl more times than not), a superhero movie for both Blaine and Sam and some obscure indie film about feminism and “hot bitches” as Santana’s pick.

On Thursdays, Blaine and Sam typically have the loft to themselves because Santana takes late shifts at the Spotlight Diner, Rachel’s Funny Girl rehearsals run until seven on those days, and Kurt goes out somewhere with Sebastian (now that Sam thinks about it, there’s probably a reason for that―one that starts with B and ends with lam). Sam loves Thursdays for that reason. His and Blaine’s constant presence at the Hummelpezberry loft is a nuisance to their three friends, a fact that encourages them to stop by more often than they normally would, which is already a lot.

That means that Fridays are reserved for game nights. It wasn't intentional at first, and it's not like they've always done it. In fact, Kurt once mentioned that he, Rachel, and Santana had never had game nights before Blaine and Sam’s arrival in New York.

But one Friday a couple of months ago, the five of them were in the parlor, watching yet another of Rachel’s guilty pleasure films, when the power suddenly flickered out. It was late August, the rain was raging outside, and the electricity in Bushwick really wasn't that reliable―it still isn't, one of the many reasons Blaine and Sam picked an apartment just outside of the neighborhood―so naturally, they were bathed in darkness for the unforeseeable future. Of course, that was, until Blaine pulled out flashlights and lanterns and Rachel lit candles. Sam always used to roll his eyes when people gave each other candles as gifts, but at that moment, his opinion shifted―man, those candles sure smelled good, almost as good as his boyfriend and his raspberry hair gel.

So, of course, someone―probably Blaine, because of course it was Blaine―busted out a stack of games that had no business being in an adult household (“Who even put these in here?!” Rachel had demanded, followed by the evil cackle of Santana). They started with Uno, but that soon morphed into Sorry! and then Monopoly. It had devolved quickly into Rachel accusing Santana of stacking the deck in Uno (“HOW?!” Santana had cackled, flinging cards like throwing stars). It was fun and allowed them to spend quality time together where they could talk and interact. The week after, they’d been debating their next movie choice when Sam suggested they play another game because it had been a fun, pleasant experience the week before. Santana griped and grumbled, but ultimately, she was out-voted as Rachel jumped in glee (heehee) at Sam’s request.

When Sebastian started becoming a regular face at the Hummelpezberrys (a term coined by Sam for Kurt, Rachel, and Santana’s apartment), he would join in on their group activities, and soon enough, it became a thing. And Sam loves game nights; he savors the moments when they can all just disconnect from the electronics and enjoy each other’s company.

In high school, his family couldn't afford luxuries like game consoles and cell phones, so they’d spent a lot of time making memories, telling jokes, and just generally having fun as a family. Game nights were a regular occurrence, too, and Sam thinks it’s nice to “go back to his roots,” in a way.

This week is different.

Normally, Blaine and Sam pair up for team games automatically, and Sebastian forces Kurt to be his partner, leaving Rachel and Santana as the third, reluctant duo. Game nights like these usually consist of Rachel and Santana bickering endlessly about the most mundane aspects of the game (because Rachel insists on following the rules and apparently, Santana doesn’t see the logic in that), Sebastian self-sabotaging his and Kurt’s team with the royal goal of annoying Kurt (an objective he reaches every time), and Blaine slipping into Sam’s lap, which leads them to make out indiscreetly and quite loudly. By the end of the evening, Blaine is always a giggling mess in Sam’s lap, Kurt’s glaring daggers in Sebastian’s direction, and Santana is making fun of everyone while tossing popcorn at her friends. This is all while Rachel paces in the corner because she’s an OCD subject, and not only is there popcorn scattered on the floor, but the pieces of what used to resemble a game of charades are strewn about on the couch, under the coffee table, and―somehow―in the doorway to the kitchen. The chaos is fun, Sam argues, and Rachel turns her murderous stare on him.

...

Tonight, the volume of the apartment hit a maximum before the games even began. The plan is to play charades, a setup that Blaine happily complies with, adjusting the game pieces on the coffee table with that cute, irresistible grin of his. Just like last week, and the week before that, Blaine is wearing another of Sam’s sweatshirts, the sleeves drowning him. The neckline of the sweatshirt hangs off Blaine’s smaller frame loosely, exposing his pale, olive-colored collarbone. Sam tries not to drool, pushing the fresh swarm of memories from the sight to the back of his mind. It’s game night. He’s gotta stay locked in.

Before Blaine and Sam can even exchange more than one glance―yes, they're always partners, it's an unspoken agreement―Kurt clinks his wine glass, drawing everyone’s attention. “Teams, everyone,” he announces, wine glass and hourglass in hand. He scans the group solemnly like he’s about to make a crucial battle strategy assessment. “This time, we’re being strategic.”

Already hyped up on her third glass of wine, Rachel whirls on the only couple in the room, exclaiming, “Yes! We have to be strategic. Samuel and Blaine can’t be on the same team again! We don’t need a repeat of last week.”

“Why not?” Blaine asks, bottom lip protruding in a dramatic pout. Sam leans back into the cushiony couch, urging Blaine to relax further into him. The brunette is leaning against Sam’s chest, his dark, curly hair tousled from where Sam’s fingers have been carding through it, Sam’s sweatshirt now hanging off one shoulder. Sam can’t help but soak up the warmth of his boyfriend against his body. Blaine’s head is tucked beneath the blonde’s chin, his dark curls tickling Sam’s jaw with their soft whispers. For a moment, it’s entirely too easy to forget the madness around them and slip into the bliss that wraps around him and Blaine.

Rachel narrows her eyes, glaring, a passionate fire burning in her gaze. The look is scathing on its own. “Because you never actually play, Blaine. You get distracted!” Her eyes pointedly flick to Sam at that.

“By what?” Blaine prods again, batting his lashes with faux innocence. His hand snakes up to rest a tad too high on Sam’s thigh.

“That.” She jabs a finger at the brunette, then at his blond boyfriend. “That’s what.”

Trying to suppress a laugh but failing miserably, Sam tucks Blaine further into his side. Blaine grins and tilts his head up to kiss Sam’s cheek. As he pulls back to rest his head on his boyfriend’s shoulders, his smile turns soft. “Can’t help it,” he explains, shrugging.

Properly ruining the moment, Rachel’s voice cuts through the romantic haze. “Well, you’re not on the same team tonight,” she declares, voice firm. “You’re with Kurt.”

The boy in question jerks his head around to gape at her, practically choking on his wine. “What?!” he shrieks. “Rachel, no! You know I can’t―”

“Too late,” the short girl interrupts, cutting off whatever inevitably rude and offensive comment Kurt was about to make. She herds Blaine over to Kurt’s side of the room. Blaine’s ex sighs exaggeratedly but protests no further, shooting Blaine a glare that clearly screams don’t ruin this for me. Blaine just shrugs and smiles innocently in response.

Turning back to Sam, Rachel grabs the blonde’s arm with surprising strength. “You’re with me. We’re going to win this.” And then all of a sudden, she’s pinching him―which really hurts, by the way―while Kurt whisks Blaine away. Sam’s not too sure how he feels about that; yes, he knows Blaine is completely, one hundred percent over Kurt and head-over-heels for him, but still, the insecurity lingers. Blaine and Kurt were together for a long time. Blaine used to insist that they were soulmates. The fear is justified in Sam’s mind.

Sam blinks at Rachel, who is still pinching Sam’s arm (This is abuse, Sam thinks distantly). She announces yet again that Sam is her partner, which he never agreed to, but oh, well. He can feel Blaine’s puppy-dog eyes burning a hole in his skin. But Sam can’t exactly do anything about it, so he merely shrugs helplessly. “Sorry, B. Rules are rules.”

A loud snort reminds them all that Santana is still here and banking on a win tonight. “Oh, this is gonna be good.” She turns to Sebastian, leaning against the kitchen counter and tossing back popcorn like he’s watching a soap opera: prime entertainment. “What do you say, Smythe? You and me?”

She doesn't even have to ask. The boy in question is already smirking as he replies, “Obviously. Let’s ruin their lives.”

Apparently, Kurt and Rachel didn't think this through all the way. Sam can see both of them pale instantly when they turn to the Latina and her counterpart. Santana and Sebastian are wearing matching evil grins, and Sam knows he should probably feel dread pooling in his gut right about now, but he really doesn’t. Tonight is guaranteed to be even more chaotic than last week, and that’s a plus in Sam’s book.

He can understand her concerns, though. With Tana and Seb working together, it’s surely possible that no one will win this game. Either that or one of them will end up rage-quitting and/or flipping the board game over. The mental image of Santana Lopez and Sebastian Smythe overturning a table is apparently so hilarious that it deserves an outward reaction; Sam barks out a laugh when he pictures it, and everyone turns to stare at him like he’s crazy―well, Rachel does. Santana appears unsurprised, Kurt just looks exasperated, Sebastian’s amused, and Blaine rolls his eyes fondly and curls into Sam’s chest. The blonde wraps an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and drops a kiss into his dark curls. He loves Blaine’s natural hair and spends every waking moment making sure Blaine knows it.

Sam supposes it wouldn't be the end of the world if they were on opposing teams for one game of charades. In fact, that might even make it easier to win; Blaine is terrible at this game, whereas Sam has been working on his impressions for years and finds it quite easy to translate voices into body language, hand gestures, and expressions.

Seemingly, Rachel has been trying to argue against the Sebtana duo for the last few minutes. It doesn’t seem like she’s had any success.

“I’m just saying,” Santana’s voice cuts through the comfortable atmosphere encasing Blane and Sam like a scalpel, “if I’m stuck with him―” she jerks a thumb towards the tall boy, whose smirk only widens, “―we’re guaranteed to win. Because, as much as I despise admitting this, Smythe’s clever stupidity might actually come in handy.” She pauses then, flashing a wicked grin at Rachel. “Unlike your usual partners, Berry. Dead weight is, unfortunately, not conducive to victory.”

Wide-eyed and gaping, Rachel splutters at the implications, hands flying to her hips in the universal gesture of I’m about to unleash the wrath of a thousand stage moms. In other words, Super-Saiyan, Sam thinks. “Excuse me? I am an excellent teammate.”

“Riiight,” the Latina drawls, drawing out the syllable as she tosses a kernel of popcorn down the hatch. “Just like you’re an excellent person to sit next to during a movie when your constant running commentary makes me want to toss myself off the fire escape.”

Rachel’s eyes widen further at that, mouth opening as if she’s about to fire something just as long and offensive back at her. Sam wouldn't doubt that she would if not for Kurt’s intervention.

The countertenor pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes rolling hard. “I thought this was supposed to be fun.”

Blaine, ever the optimist, takes the opening to chime in brightly, “It is!” Sam doesn't know if it’s because he's trying to diffuse the situation or because he’s just genuinely fucking oblivious. He’s willing to bet it’s the latter. His boyfriend claps his hands together as he beams at their friends. “And if we could all just channel our inner holiday spirits―”

Santana cuts him off, already shaking her head dismissively. “Unless the spirit is tequila, I don’t give a shit.”

Up until now, Sebastian has been twirling a pen in his fingers lazily, obviously having repeated the gesture enough times to be a pro at it. Now, he grins and pitches into the conversation. “What’s the matter, Lopez? Afraid I’ll upstage you in front of your little Broadway BFF?”

“Please,” the Latina scoffs. “You couldn’t upstage a rusty tambourine.” A laugh escapes Sam at the odd choice of words; sometimes Santana can be so random.

Blaine’s quiet chuckle vibrates in Sam’s chest. “Think we should referee?” he questions privately, craning his neck to look up at his boyfriend. Sam pats the brunet’s thigh and shakes his head.

“Nah, let them go at it. Adds flavor.”

Sam can tell that Santana’s preparing to interject once again, hands poised to gesticulate animatedly and eyes gleaming with fiery intent, but Kurt beats her to it, stepping between her and Sebastian. “Enough!” he demands, fixing them both with his best I’ve had it with your nonsense glare. “We’re here to have a civilized game night. Not to recreate an episode of Real Housewives of Bushwick.”

His comment may not land exactly the way it was intended, but it does ease some of the tension. Santana cackles, head thrown back as the evil gleam in her eye resurfaces. “I’m definitely Teresa,” she claims with a smirk. “Blaine can be Melissa.”

The boy in question nods as if accepting his fate, while Rachel, clearly grasping for some sense of order, inserts herself into the discussion. “Fine. If we’re all done now, can we just―”

“You never answered my question," Blaine points out. His tone is innocent, but there's an impish lilt to his voice that betrays his intentions. His hand, moments ago resting on Sam’s thigh, now inches upward marginally. “What distracts me during the game?”

Biting back a laugh, Sam watches as Rachel narrows her eyes at Blaine, her expression scandalized and accusatory in equal measure. She points at the two of them wildly, screeching, “That! That right there is exactly what I’m talking about!”

Blaine gasps dramatically in response. “Rachel Barbara Berry, I am appalled! Are you suggesting that I―”

“Stop it.” Sam thinks it was a pretty good Rachel impression and offers his boyfriend a thumbs up. Grin widening, Blaine latches onto Sam’s thumb and tugs it toward himself, hugging it to his chest in an adorable gesture. Sam knows he's smiling like a dope and he couldn't care less. Rachel goes on, unfazed by Blam’s display of affection. “You’re not charming your way out of this. We all know exactly what happens the second you and Sam end up on the same team.”

Sebastian, who has been reclining against the arm of the couch, perks up. “Oh, this is so much more entertaining than charades.”

“You,” Kurt says sharply, pointing at Sebastian, “zip it.” At that, Sebastian smirks but makes a show of miming zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key.

Then Rachel stands and takes a deep breath, clearly summoning every ounce of patience in her body. She grabs Blaine by the wrist and tugs him toward the coffee table, where Kurt is already arranging the charade cards. “You’re on task tonight, Blaine Anderson,” she orders, leaving no room for discussion. “No distractions.”

As Blaine takes his place, dropping to the floor next to Kurt and crossing his legs, he turns to Sam. The brunette’s cheeky grin is already firmly in place like Sam knew it would be. The blonde wiggles his fingers in an exaggerated wave, mouthing, Behave. It’s wishful thinking, really, but the least Sam can do is try.

“Only if you promise to stop being so distracting,” the shorter boy retorts. They both laugh a little, just subtle enough to avoid prompting an icy glare from their respective teammates. Sam sighs as Blaine shifts across from him, trying to get comfy. It’s going to be a long night.

He rubs his hands together and leans forward on the couch, hanging off the edge of the cushion. “Alright, let’s get this game on then!”

...

Predictably, the game devolves almost immediately.

The room is an explosion of noise and motion. Rachel is too competitive for Sam to keep up with. She keeps barking guesses at Sam’s dramatized impressions like she’s auditioning for a role in a war film, and it’s confusing as hell. Meanwhile, Blaine and Kurt are bickering intently over whether Blaine’s charade for tap-dancing penguin is accurate (of course, Sam knows it’s not, but he values his sexytime and so he’s not going to say anything). In the background (or amidst the chaos, depending on your perspective), Santana and Sebastian are making the game into a gigantic gag, using every turn to act out increasingly suggestive gestures worthy enough to make Kurt turn red.

It all goes completely to hell when Santana grabs a stack of cards and decides to fling them about, tossing them at her partner like ninja stars. With dramatic grace and inelegant yelps, Seb manages to dodge most of the artillery, though Santana’s able to land the occasional hit square in his face. And where Blaine is terrible at guessing, Kurt is apparently shit at miming. Kurt’s pulled the Phantom of the Opera card from the deck and is nearly in tears desperately trying and failing to imitate it.

“You’re useless,” Blaine mutters under his breath, standing next to Kurt to offer his own interpretation. He proceeds then to deliver a melodramatic rendition of The Phantom Sam has ever seen (which isn’t really saying much, considering Sam hasn’t even seen it on Broadway, but still). Kurt scowls at him.

Sam turns back to his own task; he and Rachel are trying to decide whether Titanic counts as only one word or two. “I’m pretty sure it’s two,” Sam claims, scratching his head. “Like, there’s Titanic the movie, and then there’s the boat.”

Rachel narrows her eyes at him, and it sends a little chill down Sam’s spine. That girl can be really spooky when she wants to be. “Do I look like a dictionary to you, Samuel?” It’s supposed to be a rhetorical question, Sam knows, but he can’t resist.

“I dunno, you kinda look like you could fit in a dictionary,” the blonde quips with a grin. The girl’s icy glare is the last thing he sees before a book is flying at his face, whacking him in the arm when he uses his forearm as a shield. “Ow!” he whines, rubbing the injury with a wince. Rachel shoots him a prim, smug smile, clearly the victor. But only because she didn’t get thwacked in the arm with a book!

“B!” Sam calls, because throwing books at each other is fun and all, but they are playing a game, after all. His boyfriend turns to him, expectant smile on his lips, and Sam feels a grin forming when he sees the brunette. “What’s the ruling? Titanic, one word or two?”

He seems to consider the question for a moment, finger on his chin as he contemplates. After a few beats, the curly-haired boy smirks. “Whatever Rachel doesn’t want; we’ll do the opposite.” At this, Santana bursts into a fit of laughter while Rachel releases an indignant squawk.

After Rachel claims to disown the group, Sam lets himself grin, leaning back into the couch. He watches his boyfriend light up the room with his easy charm and disarming smiles that always steal Sam’s breath. Regardless of how unpredictable and utterly chaotic these game nights are, Blaine somehow always manages to make them perfect.

By the time Blaine’s next turn rolls around, he’s already a giggling mess, falling apart at the seams. Sam watches him try to mime “Superman” and it’s not even half-bad. Sam’s surprised, if not slightly impressed even. Of course, it was too good to be true because halfway through, the curly-haired boy slips on the carpet, landing sprawled out on the floor. The game cards flutter around him, one landing on his nose somehow. Blaine stares at it, going cross-eyed, and Sam wonders once again how the boy doesn’t get headaches from that. Crossing his eyes has always made Sam’s head hurt! It isn’t very fair, is all. His boyfriend blows at the piece of paper, trying to get it off him, but he only manages to launch it straight up in the air and back down on his face. The brunette huffs in mock-annoyance for a beat before bursting into laughter. His attempts to rise back to his feet are futile, as his shoulders are shaking so hard that he can’t keep his balance.

“You’re useless!” Kurt hisses, hands thrown up in indignance. His glare slides over to Rachel for a second before snapping back to Blaine. “I don’t know why I even―”

Yeah, like that is going to end well. Sam steps in, cutting Kurt off before he can go on a whole-ass tangent like he inevitably would if no one stopped him. “Alright,” the blonde says, stepping over to help Blaine to his feet. “Time out. Someone’s had too much wine.” Despite his words and the playful tinge of annoyance in his tone, Sam chuckles fondly as he scoops Blaine into his arms with minimal effort. The shorter boy reflexively wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, still laughing as he buries his face in Sam’s shoulder.

Hands on her hips, Rachel stares at them expectantly. “Samuel. Put him down,” she says cooly. “We’re playing to win.”

From somewhere to his right, Sam hears a snort followed by, “Yeah, like that's gonna happen, Berry.” He tries to hide his smile by nuzzling into Blaine’s hair, pretending that he’s kissing Blaine’s head rather than secretly sniggering at Santana’s comment.

“I think Blaine needs a break,” Sam says once he’s regained his bearings. He does not put Blaine down. Take that, Rachel! He grins down at his boyfriend, who’s already gazing up at him, his wide, glossy amber eyes filled with affection and awe. It makes Sam’s heart skip a beat, being looked at like that. So tenderly, so lovingly. The blond clears his throat. “He’s, uh, clearly too drunk to keep up the game.”

Santana smirks, jabbing a finger at the pair. Her fiery eyes are dancing with knowing amusement. “Oh, that’s your excuse? What are you two sneaking off to do, huh?”

Kurt wrinkles his nose while Rachel scoffs indignantly. Sam can almost hear her squeaky upset voice, The audacity! Blaine just giggles, nuzzling Sam’s neck. “I don’t think you want me to answer that,” he responds, the mischief in his voice clear as day.

“Gross!” Kurt exclaims, throwing a pillow at them as Sam carries Blaine toward the hallway. He misses by a landslide as predicted, and when Sam passes by the weapon of choice, he kicks it back toward the living room, flashing Kurt a wink, his tongue poking out.

With a mock-salute, Sebastian shakes his head and says, heavy with amusement, “Godspeed, Evans. Don’t break anything.”

Sam grins at that. This is one of the main reasons he and Blaine love crashing here so much; the commentary is hilarious! Sebastian’s approval is always welcome and feeds Sam’s pride a bit, Santana’s sexual remarks are funny and somewhat accurate, and Kurt and Rachel’s indignant exasperation has the ability to bring Sam up from any bad moodswings he may have. Not that Blaine’s company alone wouldn’t fix that immediately.

As they disappear around the corner, Sam can hear the glare in her voice as Rachel addresses the remaining players. “That’s it. We’re locking them out next time.” Although her voice is resolute, Sam knows it’s not going to happen. Rachel and Kurt have been bullshitting about revoking his and Blaine’s loft privileges since the first time they'd been caught in action, but they’ve never actually followed through with the threats.

Santana’s cackle echoes through the corners of the apartment. “Oh sure, Berry. Like that’ll stop them.”

[madroxed]

CALIFORNIA IN THE SPRING [ glee ∙ sam/blaine ∙ 13k ]

If he's honest, Sam expected Kurt and Blaine's inevitable divorce to shake continents. It's almost sadder that it just fizzled and died without a closing Act. [Years after they last spoke, Blaine moves in with Sam.] @AO3.

a/n: written for the wonderful @thinkof-england as part of the @fandomtrumpshate 2024 auction. set several years post show.

[lusthurts]

desperately trying to find a way to make the blamtina friendship canon to the how bright we burn universe

[aloera]

aloera oh my fucking god (<- just woke up to the notification of a new aloera fic posted (r/offmychest) and read it immediately ofc)

aloera OH M Y G O D

aloera OH MY FFUCKINJ GOF

anyway ty for sharing you are the captain of krbk fics to me it is literally a law of nature that i will read the fic as soon as i see the notif i d o n o t c a r e what is going on irl i will sit in the corner with my phone and READ do not talk to me so yeah. ty lol <3

you are. so sweet shut up i had the same oh my god reaction reading this... this means so much to me!!! i appreciate it so much!!!! i am so grateful that we r all unfortunately still stuck in the krbk pit even in 2024!!!! mwah <333333 thank u sm for reading im glad you enjoyed it

[katyobsesses]

The worst part of outlining a fic as a multishipper is trying to decide what ships to have 😭

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

do you have any fics where kurt is jealous of blaine and sam’s friendship?

Here are some. ~Jen

What's a Little Competition Between Friends? byHadelli

Sam is sure that Kurt doesn't like him.

It makes sense, really. He’s Blaine’s best friend, Blaine’s best friend who Blaine totally wants to bang. And also, while Sam hasn’t seen Kurt shirtless, he’s pretty sure he’s got more abs than him. So.

~~~~~~

All You Need is Love by KokoKitsune

Based off the prompt: Blaine calls Kurt up one evening and Blaine spills that he has a crush on Sam, Kurt feels jealous but he lets it go since he has no right anymore, but he assumes that when he visits Blaine wont like Sam anymore and he lets his jealously take over and starts insulting Sam and Blaine. Blaine calls him out on it and they fight.

~~~~~

Dude, Where’s My Tent? by vosje and beatlebun

Trying to get away from the city, Kurt finds himself stuck on a campsite with Rachel. Luckily, also with cute (shirtless!) and seemingly dating neighbors Blaine and Sam.

Here is part 2.

[doyelikehaggis]

"You wrote me a song?" for Blam!

TW: mentions of "Shooting Star"

Blaine isn't surprised when he finds Sam alone in the auditorium at lunch. He's been steering clear of the cafeteria nearly all week, and he's pretty sure it's for the same reason that he's been claiming to have an identical twin.

Sam lifts his head when he hears the side door close, and Blaine smiles. He walks over and pulls himself up to sit beside him on the edge of the stage, guitar in his lap. Blaine offers him a muffin that he snagged from the cafeteria after doing a sweep of it and realizing that Sam wasn't there. Unsurprisingly, Sam shakes his head.

"Okay," Blaine says gently, and he places it in the small gap between their thighs. Just in case. He then nods at the guitar. "Am I interrupting...?"

"No, no, it's cool," Sam says, running a hand through his hair. "I was just messing around. Marley talking about doing original songs for Sectionals just got me thinking, which I've been trying not to do a lot of, but I thought that working on a song might help clear my head a bit."

"That makes sense," Blaine says, watching him stare blankly at the empty seats. "Did you come up with anything?"

Sam just shrugs. "Not really. I started trying to write down everything I was thinking, but then it all got jumbled, so I started writing something else instead." He meets his eyes, finally. "I kinda wrote it for you."

Blaine is taken aback. "You wrote me a song?"

"Yeah, you know, like that song that Bernie wrote for Elton," he says, resting his arm on his guitar with a shrug. "Except I obviously can't call it 'Your Song' because that's probably got some copyright infrigement or something. But, basically... last week was terrifying, and it made me realize how important everything is, especially people. You're my best friend and like the most important person in my life, and I guess I just wanted to make sure you know that."

He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even know if he can speak and he's afraid to try in case all that comes out is the wave of emotions flooding him and threatening to drag him under. He presses his lips together then parts them again to give it a go as his eyes sting.

"That's... the nicest thing anyone has done for me," he breathes out, and his voice betrays him with a quiver. He tries to laugh it off, but for some reason that only brings another wave of emotion crashing down on him. "Thank you."

Sam sets his guitar aside and pulls him in; Blaine crumbles as he wraps his arms around him and holds on for dear life. He can feel Sam doing the same as he inhales a sharp, halting breath before burying his face in his shoulder and hugging him tighter. He could squeeze all the air out of his lungs (and he nearly does) and Blaine wouldn't care.

"I love you, Sam."

His heart squeezes, and he knows he shouldn't have said it. They both know he means it in a way he shouldn't. But he doesn't care, because he needs to say it, and he needs him to hear it.

After a second, Sam sniffles, then he murmurs, "I love you, too."

It doesn't matter in what way. It doesn't. Blaine hears those words and has never felt them so sincerely, and that's all that matters. He knows he is truly loved, and that's more important than anything.

He tightens his arms just a little more, and Sam does, too.

When they know they should probably let go, Sam breaks the heavy silence between them and says, "You haven't even heard the song yet. You might hate it."

Blaine chuckles as he pulls back; there are still tears shining in his eyes, blurring the lights of the auditorium but he blinks enough to keep Sam's face in focus.

"That's true," he jokes. "Maybe you should play it, then."

"What, now?"

"Well, yeah. We still have about ten minutes, we're in the auditorium and you have your guitar, so, I don't see why not." Widening his smile, he tilts his head and says, "Come on, Bernie."

"Okay, but it's not completely done yet, so..."

He picks his guitar back up, throws him a hesitant glance, and then he takes a quick breath before begining to play. Blaine sits and watches, and he listens as he starts singing. His heart follows along, but with every word and glance, he falls even further.

Send me a glee ship and a prompt <3

[cyrus-badman]

Basically, these were my very early notes as far as the Glee Season 5 AU goes. I have many more notes and highlights on a Google doc, but this bit here are the beginnings of my vision, so enjoy!

This fic actually started as a Pezberry 5+1 because I wanted to broaden my horizons by writing Pezberry (I still struggle a bit, so if anyone would like to help me out, it would be greatly appreciated 🙃). I had this idea for a little ficlet where rachel and santana were being domestic in the loft without even realizing, and well, this is the result. Below are my notes on that!

[genghisthebrain]

attention wednesday/glee fans

denial and rain have the same smell. I like to toast them over a fire and then drink them in a milkshake. if you like humour, chatfics, crack, denial, fluff, etc etc etc, then you like me. read my fic. it's good I swear

[chanranghaeys]

🥂 a tale of two lonely souls

pairing: idol!minghao x gn!bar owner!reader word count: 1.4k+ genre: fluff rating: pg tags: christmas fic, open ending, meet cute in a bar, yes it’s yet another slice of life from me, minghao is cocky as always but you’ll love it bc reader will make minghao realize he’s found his match at cockiness warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of multi-race parents, reader owns a bar in this setting

a/n: i’m so honored to be part of @camandemstudios’ A Very Seventeen Christmas Secret Santa event for this year and surprise @ylangelegy, i’m your secret santa! 🥳 bless u kae, here’s a little gift for you for making me feel so many things this year bc of your fics 🫶 merry christmas and happy holidays to y’all!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“All alone on Christmas Day?”

The hooded figure at the bar looked up from their phone. You notice their fingernails painted in shades and lines of black and glitter that glinted under the lights. When the figure pulled down their hood and face mask, you realize that the man looked startlingly familiar. You just couldn’t place from where…

“Maybe,” he replied. A slight smile graced his features, a welcome warmth from his initially cold aura.

“Well, that makes the two of us alone on Christmas.” The place was empty, save for two tables with a few customers—one large group, two duos, and this man on the bar counter.

It was a few hours before the end of Christmas Eve, and this recently opened Asian fusion bar had yet to welcome its throng of guests. In hindsight, maybe setting it up in a more secluded area of Itaewon wasn’t the best decision.

“If that's the case then maybe we’re not alone.” He gestures his finger between the two of you. You roll your eyes at the attempt to lighten the mood.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” He tilts his head curiously.

“Being alone.”

“Why not change it then?” He steeples his hands and rests his chin on them, his eyes studying yours as if trying to decipher a puzzle—as if he was used to analyzing people quietly.

It was unsettling…but you liked the challenge.

“Well, why don’t you change?” You counter back at him.

“Change what?”

“You being alone.”

He snickers. “Why don’t you get me something to drink first?”

“Alright, Mr. Bossy,” you say with a raised eyebrow and a matching smirk. “What are you having?”

“I heard you have Kweichow Maotai. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

Interesting. He’s a man of taste. The way the Chinese syllables easily rolled off his tongue gave you further evidence of his identity—you just needed one more clue.

Without a word, you turn to face the wall of bottles to find the spirit you’re looking for. But before reaching for the iconic white-and-red bottle, you stop yourself.

“You know what, it’s Christmas.” You turn back to him with a smile. “I’ll get you something special.”

You return with another bottle of Maotai—but he instantly recognizes the difference from the one at the bar. His eyes widened the moment you came in holding the gold bottle tied with a red ribbon.

“No way you have that.” He marveled at the sight in front of him, his eyes filled with seeming reverence. “How—”

“That is a story for another time. But now, please enjoy. I’ll just charge you the regular Maotai rate, don’t worry.” You wink and hand him the small tulip glass, full to the brim.

“Just tell me that I’m not drinking a shot of illegally-sourced vintage Maotai.” There it is again—the analyzing look.

“If it were, then I’d be out of business. Can’t have that then, can we?”

“Of course not.” The man raised his glass to meet your own. “I can’t lose my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea now that I’ve found you.” The light brought the ring on his pinky finger to your attention. Suspicion confirmed.

You didn't reply, but opted to down the contents of the small glass—potent but familiar. He followed suit. You hoped that the warmth that bloomed in your mouth and your chest didn’t manifest itself too much on your cheeks. You could blame it on your Asian flush anyway because you had to give it to him—he was surprisingly smooth with his words.

“This is the rare moment I get to be alone,” he said after a beat. “Believe me, I wish I had more of it, but my parents are arriving here tomorrow from China. So no, I will not be as alone as you think.”

It took you a moment to realize he was continuing the conversation from earlier. “That’s nice. Why are you here in Korea then, if you’re from China?”

“Who said I was from there?”

“Well, you have parents coming from there.”

“Who’s to say that they aren’t coming home here?”

“The way you said Kweichow Maotai was too smooth.”

He shrugged deliberately. “I know Chinese.”

“I know Chinese, too. You can’t fool me.” You said this in perfectly placed Mandarin. The look on his face was priceless as he was rendered speechless.

“I cannot believe you managed to surprise me twice in one night,” he replied in the same tongue.

You smirked and poured another tulip glass for the both of you. “Glad to know that I managed to surprise a K-pop idol tonight. And in my bar, no less. Xu Minghao, correct?” You push the refilled glass and meet his ever-analytical eyes. It seemed like you knew how to play his game, after all.

The smile he returned was ethereal. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of tonight’s company?”

And that’s how you spent the remaining hours of Christmas Eve, with conversations as free-flowing as the Maotai and whiskey and bar chow. You learned that his parents’ flight was actually delayed—he was actually on his way to the airport—and he learned that your Chinese is courtesy of your father’s heritage and your Korean address from your mother.

You also ended up telling him the story about the vintage Maotai, which had him in stitches by the end of it. Thankfully, the bar had long been empty and your staff had all gone home.

“Why haven’t you left then?”

“You might’ve forgotten that I own this place.”

“And how does it not have more customers at this time?”

“It’ll pick up soon. I’m sure of it.”

Minghao pursed his lips in thought. “Give me your Maotai bottle. And a marker.”

“The vintage one?”

“No, the regular one over there!” You obliged to his requests, and he returned the liquor bottle with a freshly minted autograph from Seventeen’s The8.

Why didn’t you think of this earlier? It might be because the whole time you were talking, he didn’t even seem like an idol. He was just…a guy. A frustratingly charming and quick-witted guy.

“Merry Christmas to you and this wonderful place.” His examining gaze was long gone, replaced by eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled wide. “Thank you for…making me feel safe.”

“Merry Christmas, Minghao. Everything’s on the house. Consider it a Christmas gift.”

“Absolutely not.” He brandished his card and pushed it to you. “I will not rip off a starting business all because of celebrity status.”

“I didn’t say it was for your celebrity status.”

“Still.” He was insistent. He took your hand and placed his card in it. “Charge me as necessary.”

You were just as insistent, though. “No.”

“Fine. Then give me your phone.”

You did. And he input his personal number in it.

“I have to go now, but please message me. I mean it.”

You did. And the back-and-forth banter didn’t stop. Surprise remained an element in your dynamic, apparently, because the conversations seemed as natural as the days transitioning from one to another.

You didn’t catch when Minghao took photos of your place. But the moment he posted it on his Instagram, customers started coming in waves. This secluded corner in Itaewon has never had a lull day since Christmas.

New Year’s was no different. After the festivities and the celebrations, it was finally time to call it an early morning at 3 am. But not before you welcomed your last customer.

“Alone on New Year’s as well?” You hold back a smile when you find him standing at the door. The way your heart was beating was undeniable, and you knew you couldn’t hold that back.

Up until then, you didn’t know if you would ever see Minghao again beyond your messages. They became more occasional as time passed, but you knew enough from his stories that their schedules were not to be underestimated. Seeing him here now was—as expected from your dynamic—a surprise.

“No. I’m with my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea, how can I be alone?” He drew closer to the bar and to you as if you were reeling him in with an invisible string.

“I thought your parents brought you a bottle last Christmas?”

“It isn’t a vintage Maotai, though.”

“What makes you think I’m bringing it out tonight?”

“Because we’re starting the new year together. I’d say that’s a cause for celebration.” And bring it out you did. As if you could resist him.

Before you can open the bottle, he grabs it from your hands to pour out the drinks himself. As you two raise your glasses, he leans in close, and you see nothing but an openness in his eyes. Warmth. Hope. “Happy New Year to you, then.”

“To us. Happy New Year, Minghao.”

Your glasses clink and your Maotais are downed. It would seem that happiness is on the books for the year ahead.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: pleaseeee i felt so pressured to write for u (looks at my inbox with full knowledge your request still lies there unwritten fskf) ((i promise i’ll get to them)) but i hope i did minghao justice. i was very much inspired by your own minghao fics skl hehe and tbh this is almost less of a drabble and more of a potentially longer fic but i held back bc gah. merry christmas again and i hope you liked my pamasko, kae! 🎄🎁✨

post post a/n/n: ALSO thank you to @tusswrites for quick beta-ing this one even tho she wasn't supposed to bc she's also in the same event and apparently you can't do that HAHA thank you still all love mwa

[ellieswifie]

owning a cat with boyfriend!matt

𐙚 short fic!

WHEN YOU MATT ASKED YOU TO BUY A CAT YOU IMMEDIATELY WERE CONFUSED AND WAS QUICK TO BLAM LARRY. he’s been spending way too much time with coochie and that cat must’ve possessed him to want to buy a cat of his own.

you didn’t have anything against raising a cat with your boyfriend, the problem was you’d end up raising it yourself. with him busy filming and tour, he’d never be home to raise the cat with you.

i mean there’s plenty of room in your apartment to raise a small kitten, but the problem was just commitment and parenting.

"come one please. this could be our practice run when we want to have kids." he went on, rubbing his fingers through your tangled air.

you’ve both been laying in bed all morning just talking about random stuff that you didn’t even notice it was almost one o’clock.

“we aren’t having kids anytime soon matt." you quickly said, bringing his free hand on your stomach to in front of your face. you fiddled with his fingers while you kept listening to matt’s pleads.

"i know! but like you know we could both agree on a cute name and like treat he or she like our child. you could even buy cute clothes and toys."

you still weren’t too sure of this idea but the thought if owning a cat just does seem exciting. "matty i don’t know…"

"we could put it off and just think about it later. i just brought it up now since we were both just talking about things in our chest." matt muttered, removing his hand from your hair to reach for his phone on the night stand.

you groaned, sitting up from his chest, looking at him. his eyes followed yours confused.

"it’s just-" you start, trying to find something to focus on but his eyes. matt notices this and immediately places his phone down. "i feel like owning a cat together is a very big commitment. i mean we’ve only been dating a few years and i haven’t had anything like this that makes me feel so happy."

matt nods, watching your eyes. "and it’s not that i’m sure we’ll break up or anything, because i know we won’t, but it’s just scary. and i don’t want us to get messy. things are moving really fast and i don’t know if it’s because we’re happy or young-"

matt stops you by placing his soft hand on your cheek leaning in. you immediately blush, watching his eyes soften. "i know. believe me i know." he chuckles, rubbing his thumb softly on your cheek. “and that’s exactly why i think owning a cat together will be perfect. he or she can stay here since you already practically live here. nothing between us will change just because we are owning something together."

you smile softly, leaning into his touch. "i love you." he whsipers, watching your eyes grow. "i know," you tease, failing to hide you smile. he shoves you slightly, watching you laugh against his touch. "i love you too."

"good. because if you didn’t that would be bad." he replies, kissing your cheeks.

your eye brows furrow, watching his smile grow. "whys that matthew?"

"because nick and chris texted saying the cats in the garage." matt smiles when your mouth falls open.

and if on command, nick and chris swing the bedroom door open, screaming and carrying a kitten.

"it’s a girl!"! nick screams, shooting matt’s bedroom door open, carrying a small kitten in his hands. "and her beautiful name is ivy! like the frank ocean song!"

your jaw is still hanging from your mouth when you look at the small cat, start crawling around on matt’s bed. you can’t even remember all the negative thoughts you had about owning a cat with matt. looking at the way his face lights up at the small kitten makes your heart flip.

"surprise!" matt smiles, swiping the kitten into his arms, holding her close to your face.

"matthew sturniolo." you whisper completely lost for words but extremely happy and excited. "i can’t believe you."

[snixx]

top 5 glee ships?

oh man i feel like I've been transported back to my 2021 tumblr days with this ask

(to absolutely no one's surprise) brittana

marlique (CRIMINALLY underrated why do they have ZERO fanfiction 😭 one day when I'm done with season 3 of my never-ending faberry fic I will write them the 100k best friends to lovers slowburn they deserve trust)

faberry (I could write a college-level dissertation on their wasted potential)

pezberry (invented toxic yuri)

blam (queerplatonically)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

(hi uh sorry i sent that ask very prematurely on accident could you delete the previous one? sorry i just had to rephrase it-)

i was wondering if you were interested in doing a Sozo x reader fic (GN preferably) where the reader tries to help Sozo kick his mushroom habit (as you have done before but i would really like some more in-depth mental support for ant boy) or at least help him not to lose himself even more. This next part includes spoilers for the Sins of the Flesh update so if you haven't played that feel free to wait or skip this part. I would especially like to see his Dr. Sozonius personality starting to shine through again as he gains more clarity, kinda nerding out on mushroom stuff but also extremely sorry for everything he did while under the influence of the Mushrooms

YEAH SOZO REDEMPTION ARC <3

.....

"I promise...no more shrooms...please.."

"I'm sorry, my dear. I just can't take your word for it." Sighing, you gazed hopelessly at your spouse: the belligerent ant locked up in the pillory for the third straight day now, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

This all started after you returned to Spore Grotto one evening, finding the Mushroomos there in a panic, one of them eventually leading you to the inside of Sozo's "home".

He had succumbed to the infection, as his body was laying there in such a grotesque display, covered in fungi and rotting away. Of course, the followers didn't know what to do and begged you to bring Lamb back here, as they haven't visited this place in a while.

At first you didn't want to, thinking they were the reason he was dead. You assumed he was still giving him mushrooms behind your back when you specifically told them not to do that, explaining how you're trying to get him to stop. You made him promise not to consume anymore.

It had to be Lamb's fault.

But the Mushroomos revealed something quite shocking: since he wasn't getting mushrooms, he turned to eating them all alive to satisfy his needs instead, unable to stop. The parasite that held him hostage demanded it so.

And it ended up killing him.

You grieved for a little while, before seeking out Lamb and asking if they could accompany you to Spore Grotto, explaining what happened. Yet by the time you both returned, there was hardly anything left of Sozo's body.

Nothing except his skeleton, backpack, and the smiling mushroom.

You decided to take the large fungi back to their cult, carrying it as a sort of "ironic" memento of your lover.

During the walk back, Lamb asked you if Sozo had a life before this addiction of his...and you tell them something rather surprising.

He was actually once a brilliant man: Dr. Sozonius. His research on mushrooms was known all throughout the Old Faith. He's written books, lived with family members in an ant colony, and was very wise. You two fell in love through your research and explored Anura together.

Then he brought you to his camp at Spore Grotto, the very heart and soul of Anura's fungal outbreak. He was studying the Mushroomos and their behavior patterns. They were actually very passive and social creatures, offering you two stews of menticide mushrooms.

You declined, having already ate before your journey. But Sozonius--thrilled to discover a new mushroom specimen--decided to indulge in their generosity for the sake of science.

And things haven't been the same since.

Something in that soup took root in his brain and turned him into a shadow of his former self.

He never came back to the colony, or the home you two shared, devoting himself entirely to all things mushroom-related...while that stupid smiling fungi puppeteered him around. Some days you'd visit him, and he does remember you, but as of late he's been forgetting more and more of your lives together, giggling and not taking any of your words seriously.

He tried getting you to bring him mushrooms, eat them, etc. and if you refused, his eyes turned red and he'd start yelling nonsense.

Despite all of this, you never once blamed the Mushroomos. They were only trying to be kind hosts; they didn't expect such an advanced fungi to take control of him and turn him into their "leader".

After he died, most of them dispersed throughout Anura, but some stayed behind in the hope of seeing you again.

Once you finished sharing your story, Lamb was surprised that you wanted to take the fungi back at all. They figured you'd burn it to ashes for what it did to your husband.

Yet....you didn't blame it either.

Mushrooms aren't inherently evil. It's how nature made them, and you're a strong believer in karma, deciding to instead nurture this one in hopes that it may grow into something better.

Who would've known that mentality would bring Sozo back to you a week later?

Unfortunately, as you anticipated, he was still up to his old habits and never fully understood that they killed him. He tore up the mushroom farm plots and ate any Mushroomos Lamb rescued during their crusades.

Least to say..he was being an utter nuisance in the cult. He never did any work, and none of the followers liked him.

But that's not how he really was.

You knew him better than anybody else.

Ultimately you and Lamb realized that you had to break this addiction of his for good, otherwise the cycle will just repeat..and you might lose him all over again.

Talking to him wasn't enough.

He had to go cold turkey.

Sozo got angry when you shielded a Mushroomo from his bloodlust and told them to hide in the temple, accusing you of denying him happiness and saying he'd rather be put back in the ground than look at you--and that's when Lamb locked him up in the pillory while distracted.

As much as his words hurt..you knew it was only the fungi talking, trying to trick you into thinking that's what he was feeling. But you weren't so easily fooled.

You had to starve it out.

Might it kill him, too? There's a good chance. But you had to try.

Ever since getting imprisoned, he's been shouting and begging passing followers to free him all day and all night, the fungi looking more withered as time went on. Even its smile turned upside down.

Lamb tried using the same reeducation techniques they used on dissenters. Yet they weren't quite sure how to help Sozo, as he babbled over their speeches and wanted them to go away.

You offered to take over instead, and while they hesitated..they eventually handed you a copy of one of their gospel books and said they'd pray for his healing.

If anyone could get through to him, it was you.

For a while you've kept a close eye on him, making sure he had food--all of which you cooked yourself in case anyone tried sneaking in mushrooms. He no longer screamed his head off, but he still tried bargaining with you to free him, each plea growing weaker than the last.

By the time the sun went down, most of the followers were heading to their sleeping quarters for the night--although a couple were having some concoctions at the drinkhouse. But they could usually hold their liquor and not get too befuddled, so you weren't worried about them.

Instead you just focused on Sozo..who was already looking tired. Your energy was very much spent, too, although you didn't wanna abandon him.

Alas Lamb had no moon necklaces to spare, and even if they did...they would hesitate to give it to you.

Speaking of whom, you heard their footsteps and glanced over, smiling. "Hello, Lamb."

"You can go rest, [y/n]." They nodded. "I'll watch over him for you."

"...alright." Sighing, you closed the book and looked back at your spouse, placing a hand on his cheek as you kissed the opposite one. "Sweet dreams, Sozo. For what it's worth..I'm blessed you are back on this earth with me. I promise to keep helping you."

"[Y/n]...loves Sozo that much..huh?" He huffed, sleepily opening his eyes, and you were astonished to see that they were no longer red like the eyes of dissenters.

Even so, you weren't letting your hopes get up too high. He still had a long path ahead of him.

"Of course. There's no one I love more than you. I just hope and pray...that you haven't forgotten the love you felt for me."

As you parted from his side and began walking back to the Lamb, you were confused by their dumbfounded expression. "What? Was I supposed to say-?"

"Look." They pointed behind you, and you turned back around, gawking at what you were seeing.

The fungi had completely decayed, falling off Sozo's head into a withering husk in the grass; the smaller fungi buried in his collar died off, too. It didn't cause him any pain, surprisingly enough.

Then you looked directly at his face, noticing signs of him aging rapidly judging by the wrinkles and graying furs of his collar.

But he was still alive.

And he was back to his old self.

"Wh..Where am I? Where is...my family?" His voice was quiet and raspy as he looked around, confused by the wooden contraption he was locked in.

However once he saw your face, he recognized you and smiled, feeling at total ease.

"Oh, my love. You're back."

"I-I never left.." Tears immediately blurred your vision as you rushed to unlock the pillory. "I was here the whole time. I thought you were gone forever..."

"I hope I didn't go too far." He hummed, although he felt an ache in his back from being hunched over for so long and winced. Lamb was quick to fetch him a cane so he could better support himself, but you looped your arm around one of his own to help.

"Thank you, you're very kind.." He gazed at the sheep. "My name is Dr. Sozonius. We were...studying the Mushroomos. Fascinating creatures, they are. Neither plant nor animal. They gave my partner [y/n] and I some menticide mushrooms...and.....that's the last thing I remember.." He frowned slightly.

'Ah..so he doesn't know...' You realized, but you kept your worries pushed down, too happy to care about any of that right now.

"I can't help but feel that I have you to thank for...something." He continued, smiling at Lamb. "You have my loyalty. I will remain here and serve you."

They smiled back and bowed their head respectfully. "Thank you, doctor. Welcome back."

..........

While it was such a relief to see Sozonius' sanity restored, it wasn't too long before he ended up becoming bedridden, his bones too weak to support him anymore.

You realized that the fungi somehow managed to disguise his true age, as Lamb discovered he was actually 100 years old via mindreading--making him the eldest follower in the natural sense.

Now you feared losing him again..just when you finally got him back, and wondered if Lamb could do something to help.

Sure, resurrecting him may be the easiest option, but it would be the most painful for you. They couldn't put you through that, as it would take a few days for them to be ready for the ritual.

Luckily they managed to find a quick solution:

A fountain of youth in the form of a simple egg dish.

After Sozonius ate it, the magical properties somehow reversed the clock, giving him back the energy he needed to help out with cult duties. And you didn't have to worry about losing each other again, as Lamb gifted you two golden skull necklaces as a "belated" wedding gift.

Of course, the ant was ever jubilant about his mushroom studies and continued to pursue them alongside you--in a far more controlled environment, obviously. He was allowed to tend to the plots and observe how their effects impact followers during brainwashing rituals, although he was forbidden from tasting one himself or participating in those..

At least for right now.

Even though it's been about a week since he was "cured", the few Mushroomos that lived on the cult grounds were still fretful upon seeing him, thinking he was going to eat them alive.

The one you defended couldn't believe that he was genuinely sorry and not under the fungi's influence anymore.

They were so terribly scared that Lamb mentioned that they gained a "cowardly" trait, always flinching upon you, them, or Sozonius approaching, begging to be spared from....some nonexistent threat they made up in their head. They tried to please you two how ever they could, yet were easily frightened by him simply breathing around them.

Your husband was confused until you clarified that he ruled over the Mushroomos for a long time, cannibalizing them and making threats should they fail to bring him more mushrooms--but he found it hard to fathom that he'd ever do such a thing and abandon you and his family..

Even so, he felt guilty and hoped to make things right.

.........

It was late at night when you and Sozonius were having some light brews at the drinkhouse, feeling relaxed but not entirely befuddled.

He was rambling about some of his latest discoveries in mycology, and you listened with such a loving gaze in your eyes, smiling so big your face was starting to hurt.

You were so, so grateful he came back to you..and that Lamb could save him.

But one particular Mushroomo, however, arrived in hopes of drinking their worries away...and instead found you two at the counter, disappointed.

They tried to sneak away, although Sozonius spotted them and whistled. "You, Mushroomo! Come sit with us." He offered. "We don't bite."

"Eek! I-I mean, of course Mast---I mean Sozo..I-I mean....urrgh!!" Already they were fumbling over their words, scratching at their mushroom cap and sweating. "S-Sorry, sorry! AH!" They nearly tripped over a rock on their way to the drinkhouse.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, dear?" You glanced at your husband, who just nodded reassuringly.

"It will be fine."

Even as the Mushroomo sat down and took one of the drinks left on the counter, they seemed too anxious to take a sip. Instead their gaze going to you--and Sozonius, especially. "I-I feel like I'm interrupting something.."

"No, you are not. But listen-"

"D-Do you need more 'shrooms for your studies, Sozo?? More menticide-?"

"No, no. Listen. I wanted to...apologize for what I have done to you and your fellow Mushroomos."

"Wha.....y-you do..?"

With a soft sigh, Sozonius grasped both of their hands, and although they squeaked in surprise, they didn't try running off. "I scarcely recall what I did while under the influence of the mushrooms. But...it's no excuse. I treated all of you poorly, ate your friends...and I'm sorry. I just hope you can find it in your heart to forgive this old fool."

They meekly nodded. "W-We understand..mast-"

"From this day forward," he cut in gently, "I am no longer your master. You serve the Lamb now. Not me. And that goes for all of you Mushroomos, okay?"

"....yes, doctor." The mushroom creature exhaled a shaky breath, looking utterly relieved to have official freedom from his servitude.

"Good, thank you." Sozonius let go, smiling. "I'm glad you understand. Why don't you go get some rest?"

"I think..I will." They stood up and stared down at their untouched drink, before sliding it back over to you. "You can have this. I...don't feel like I need it anymore."

You nodded, bidding them goodnight as they headed back to their shelter, before gazing at the ant. "Seems you broke their habit, too."

"Well, I am a doctor, after all." He chuckled. "I wanna help whoever I can."

All you did was smile, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence, finishing your drinks and admiring the golden shrine at the center of the cult grounds.

Finally, everything was as it should be.

[doyelikehaggis]

Several Sentence Sunday

In the spirit of this, I’m going to post sentences from several different fics I’m writing!

1. S6 Glee Rewrite (chapter 5)

He breathes in deeply, as deep as his chest will allow which isn't much at all, but Kurt is staring at him expectantly. "Alright, yes, I... I had feelings for Sam before we started dating. But it was for just a few weeks in Senior year, and then you and I got back together, and the feelings just sort of faded. At least, I thought they did."

"But they didn't," Kurt says sharply. "Did they? Because now you're dating him. And what about Sam?"

"No, Sam didn't... He figured out I had feelings for him in senior year, yes, but we agreed that it wasn't going to change anything between us, so I thought that that was it and I moved on, and I thought I got over him, but then I came back here and -- and he was there for me."

"Oh, I'm sure he was." 

"It wasn't like that," Blaine insists.

2. Hey There, Delilah

"Hey!" Blaine greets. "I only just saw your text. Kurt and I were out at Callbacks and... well, to answer your question, it's not the same without any of you. Don't get me wrong, it's great, you know, Kurt and I living together, planning the wedding. It's just... I miss you."

Sam's heart stops. Just for a second, but it definitely stops. 

"I miss all of you," he adds, allowing Sam to breathe again.

3. st hudson fic

Finn finally thinks he understands something he’s saying. His mouth quirks up as his eyebrows lower. “Wait, you… you waited up… because you were worried about me?”

“Yes,” Jesse says bluntly. “I realized I don’t have your phone number and you don’t have mine either, so for all I knew you could’ve been hit by a car or a bus or a plane.”

“A plane?”

“It happens.”

[cyrus-badman]

I've been outlining and drafting ideas for a Blam/Pezberry/Kurtbastian S5 AU and i can't wait to get cracking on it! it'll be established Blam with slow-burn Pezberry and Kurtbastian. I'm so excited to share some of it :)