#glee talk

[autisticjoshrusso]

one quick thing i need to put out there uh as funny as it is to be like "omg the Glee namedrop bc he produced both shows" or whatever i DO need to inform you that pre-Glee/post-Glee era IS an actual academic discussion point. that is a genuine unit of cultural measurement and had been long before this. that piece of dialogue was not pulled out of nowhere it was pulled directly out of existing queer discourse.

[mrs-gauche]

"It can be argued that an immortal would have to be distant, or eventually all it would know is loss. What would our world look like to such a creature? What actions would they be capable of when everything except themselves is fleeting and therefore of little relevance to eternity? If we as elvhen discover a path back to what we were, we must be sure that the path is wide enough for all. For the individual who stumbles into that journey, who endures when all else is dust, can only be alone." - Keeper Ilan'ta

[boomposhpow]

do we fw the talking llamas with hats audio for them

[yameoto]

girldick!skank quinn won't leave my mind... send help

skank!quinn graffiting the girls bathroom with pornographic pictures of you and wanking over them like a total perv.

tw: semipublic masturbation, mild slutshaming

she fucked you, once, to show her mommy n daddy and herself that shes a big girl now. most earth-shattering sex of your life, not that youve ever acknowledged it, or her, since. so, she takes every opportunity to rub your nose in the dirt at how you stooped so low as to let quinn fabray stretch you out on her cock like a common whore. takes one to know one. she's painted your walls with cum and you wanna ignore her now? oh, she doesnt fucking think so.

skank!quinn staggering into a bathroom stall, half-drunk because she spent her chem period swigging ricewine under the bleachers with the skanks, so she doesn’t even check if the door is properly locked or not. doesn’t really fucking care. because how is one sight of you in the hallways enough for her to get painfully hard? in an instant she’s slumped on the toilet lid, legs swinging wide and tugging her cock out from her shitty ripped jeans and thumbing hopelessly over its dribbling tip.

its filthy and unclassy and decidedly the furthest thing from immaculate head cheerio, founder of the celibacy club, churchgoing daddy's girl; quinn fabray. which is precisely why she does it. another act of defiance. driven by all that festering resentment that’s been boiling up inside her since the dawn of time (though, it helps that you look hot enough to eat alive. that boner she's been sporting under the tied-up flannel around her waist has been fighting against her damn jeans, all day.)

strokes her member in languid, half-assed movements as her head falls back against tiled walls and her eyes flutter shut as she fantasises; about her shiny-black nails digging into the flesh of your thighs, your hips—clawing long, white scratches down your skin. her hands; sliding up your top and groping, squeezing, twisting your tits from under your bra. dragging your panties down your legs with her teeth, how your hips would jerk up as your pussy hits her tongue. your walls, tight and wet and wringing her cock.

she moans out loud as she jerks off, right then and there, not giving a single fuck who hears (though she stifles the gasp of your name all the same), biting hard against her knuckles when she feels her chest stutter, balls drawing up in her boxers and mascara-laden lashes batting uncontrollably. she cums. shoots her load all over the stall door, rutting into her fist as the creamy explosion arcs in the air, chest in rasping gasps as she aims, mouth hung open, eyes hooded with intent. takes a second to pant, slumped back, and admires her handiwork; glistening, all over a crude caricature of your naked form, penned in her black sharpie marker.

doesn’t even bother to wipe her dick off, afterwards. simply tucking herself back in her boxers and letting the aftermath soak into fabric, sticking to her skin. she smudges her hands on her jeans and struts out, cigarette balanced between teeth. she passes you by, on your way to the bathroom, and you’re completely nonplussed at the cocky, crooked upturn that fixtures her lips when her eyes meet yours, meaningfully, over those stupid sunnies of hers—until you’re shutting the stall door and face-to-face with a crude recreation of you; splattered and gleaming with dried cum. under it, in sharpied, instantly recognisable cursive loop (too delicate, for its purposes), glares one word—quinn’s.

[thomas-the-goat-of-satan]

and I just think that Glee is the best show ever made, and That is because it's the Worst show ever made.

[erinwantstowrite]

okay now i cant stop thinking about LoF peter making sue sylvester jokes or sum to the batfam. i feel like damian would understand his glee references, but wouldn't want to admit it because he'd have to own up to seeing it. peter would obvi be able to tell, even if damian didn't say anything, and i think that would almost encourage him to do it more. i could see it quickly devolving into chaos

Peter: you know, there's only one person in the world who can tell you what you are

Bruce: what?

Damian, knows the meme: i need to leave this room immediately for no reason

Bruce: me?

Peter: no, me. Peter Parker.

[4minutesgcv]

happy best friends day to them only

[v88sy]

I still can't get over how Tim thought he absolutely cooked with that Abby/Buck/Tommy storyline and that PreGlee/PostGlee speech when in reality both things just needed to go back in the oven.

And then the garbage disposal.

[butterscotchx98]

I can’t believe they invented gay people

[brackenfur]

i always get soooo annoyed when ppl misinterpret mercedes' crush on kurt in the first eps of season 1 bc like. the reason why kurtcedes friendship is top tier and why those scenes r sooo important to me just like, in general is bc mercedes DIDNT know kurt was gay. she didnt think it was 'obvious'. she didnt care that he didnt pass/that other ppl clocked him as gay bc she didnt KNOW he was because she just liked kurt as a PERSON and thought he was cute. when he lied and said he had a crush on rachel she was upset (and sung one of the most iconic glee covers everrr) but apologized right away. and when he came out to her she immediately respected it, told him that she still cared about him/that no one would judge him and continued to support him.

[akkivee]

THE FINAL DRB??????????

AND THE MATCHUPS??????????

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

Brittany and Sam have two hands for a reason, he holds Brittany’s and Mercedes and Brittany holds his and Santanas. But Sam doesn’t date Santana he only is with Mercedes and Brittany. And Mercedes only dates Sam

(This is in relation to your one post of a few hours ago)

Okok real shit real shit I love samcedes and honestly Sam's probably my second fave character (after Santana) and I just want my baby to be happy.

It's that "this is my bf Ben and Ben's bf Derek" meme

[mdverse]

sth sth tbosas au sebklaine art i promised @backslashdelta months ago and then forgot about but it's also based on this fanart

[yameoto]

scumbag fuck but i swear that she’s not

she's so good to me, and nobody else

supernatural!au quinn masterpost

big sis. roadhead. barfight. somno.

“yeah, well maybe i don’t want to spend my life hunting monsters til' i'm fucking eighty, quinn!” quinn gives you the most unimpressed look of her life, because seriously? the two of you aren't living til' you're eighty, anyways. “yeah, well tough shit, baby sis.” she jerks the wheel just a little sharper than she should, like a fucking ass. "you run away again and i'll tie your tight-ass up and cram you in the boot, you hear me?"

backstory

▸ born in a supremely episcopalian, puritan household, LUCY QUINN FABRAY is the first daughter of russell fabray, famous preacherman in the deep south. when her mother, judy fabray, bursts into flames at the hands of a devil, above the cot of her baby sister, russell turns back to the hunting life, for good; taking his two girls' along with him.

▸ quinn's baby sister was dropped off on the fabray's doorstep when quinn was 4. russell believes she was ‘sent by the angels’, and the second coming of jesus.

▸ russell's cover as a travelling preacherman, and the long nature of certain hunts, meant he often left his girls’ to live alone for long stretches of time. for most of their lives, quinn has taken sole responsibility of the care of her baby sister. cooking, cleaning, the whole nines. from the moment russell thrust the infant into quinn’s arms as they fled from the fire, quinn has formed her entire identity around being her baby sisters’ protector.

“but daaaddd..” quinn can't help it. the baby is swaddled up in cloth, eyes blinking guilessely up at her, because apparently she's its ‘big sister.’ it’s been quiet since it came 'home’. a good girl. almost too good, her mom says. and yeah, okay. maybe it really is a gift from the angels. quinn doesn’t know what it has to do with sunday school, but she knows one thing; she’s jealous. she wants to be cooed over and coddled and called sent by the heavens like she used to do (but the way her dad says it this time sounds different. like he means it more, or something). besides, she doesn’t want to share her toys with a stupid new baby. “lucy, enough. good girls don’t whinge. say something nice, or don’t say it at all.” quinn opens her mouth to protest, before deflating on the stern look on her father's face. “i guess it’s kinda cute.” quinn huffs, blowing air out of rosy cheeks, golden curls framing her face like she’s been ripped right from some old romantic painting of a cherub. quinn reaches out, gingerly prodding the baby’s cheek. it makes an indistinct babbling sound, little arms reaching upwards. “looks like she likes you, honey.” comes russell’s deep rumble, overlooking the scene, expression unreadable. “really?” quinn perks up, because the prospect of being the only one this dumb baby likes makes it a little less dumb in her books—before she catches herself. crosses her arms. “well, i don’t care.” except she’s crawled over to sit beside the baby’s cot anyways. she asks, eventually “..can i hold her, daddy?”

▸ quinn has hunted from an early age, russell bringing her out on hunts to ‘watch’ as early as six years old, in order to familiarise his child with the supernatural in order to better protect herself and her younger sister better. quinn was 12 years old when allowed on her first, proper hunt. russell never allowed them to hunt individually, even in early adulthood.

▸ russell fabray originally never intended for his daughters to hunt, as he wanted to keep them ‘pure’ as possible. quinn, however, snuck into her fathers’ car when he was going out for a hunt one too many times (with her oblivious baby sister towed along, of course).

▸ for long, long hunts, russell would drop his children off a motel or at a fellow hunters’ house for extended periods, in which they would be enrolled at the local school for 1-6 months. quinn flourished, adopting the head bitch role like a second skin. even took up cheerleading. quinn enjoyed these brief stints of normalcy (and gratuitous popularity) though she would never admit it.

"hi, baby sis.” quinn gives you a fond hair ruffle as she passes you by, and you swat her wrist away, scowling at the retreating form of your older sister. you're just glad she didn't pinch your cheek or anything. that would be lame. though, what's totally lamer, is the slackjawed look your potential new friend is giving you right now. “your sister is quinn fabray?” the girl gapes. “the quinn fabray?” you stare back, uncomprehending. “um. last time i checked. yeah?” “instant head bitch, prom queen shoein, second coming of jesus, quinn fabray? because, like, everybody’s been waiting for chiara’s epic downfall, ‘cause everyone knows she’s a hypocrite and also a major slut, and then your sister strutted in the lunchroom on her first day and—“ you tuned out five seconds ago. is this a dream? this feels like a dream. the two of you have only been in town for four months! you didn’t know quinn was fucking notorious, or something. most demons’ or talkative monsters just dub you as those fabray brats and are done with that. this is entirely uncharted waters for eighth-grade you. you take one glance back, because you’ve got to be missing something. in your head, you’re thinking more like; too-lazy-to-clean-the-toothpaste-tube-and-lets-it-harden-into-something-disgustingly-crusty quinn fabray? takes-five-years-in-the-shower-and-uses-all-the-last-body-wash-and-fills-it-up-with-water-before-it’s-your-turn quinn fabray? your annoying, overprotective, (admittedly badass) older sister, quinn fabray? you've seen her, sure. sashaying down the hallways, blonde hair tight in a highpony, in a cheerleading uniform—which was so fucking weird the first time and you don't think you'll ever get used to it. not because you've never seen quinn in skimpy clothing before (whenever dad needs her to charm the wits out of some sorry sucker), but never like this. never, so.. normal. even if she's got this glint in her eyes that you recognise when she's facing off bloody wendigos; except its period 3 bell in some bumfuck town in the middle of ohio. it suits her, you think; normal. like she has eyes at the back of her head or something, midway down the hallway, quinn turns around and meets your gaze. her mouth changes, from that sweet, sweet smile disguising the devil underneath you've seen her wear nowadays, into that warm, fond grin she reserves only for you, with a flash of her canines and a subtle wink she learned when the two of you would play pranks on dad, in the early years. you shoot her a brazen middle finger for her troubles, and she just throws her head back and laughs, airy and breathy and carefree. you suppress the instinctive urge to return it with a grin, as you both go opposite ways, new spring in both steps. the quinn fabray. yeah, right. that's just your big sister.

▸ when quinn was 22, her baby sister got into stanford on full scholarship, abandoning the hunting life for a normal one. this led to a huge blow-up argument which escalated until they both went radio silent, for two years. stems from their intense sibling codependency, and the fact quinn, as her ‘protector’, derived all meaning from caring for her sister—and thus didn’t know what the hell she was good for, without her. this is the same reason quinn keeps to hunting. even beyond the whole, family first, ‘it’s in your blood’ schtick. there is nothing else that she knows.

facts.

▸ quinn's episcopolian upbringing means she has extensive biblical knowledge, especially due to being so exposed to her father. she is family-first, always.

▸ quinn wears a cross necklace around her neck that she never takes off, as her baby sister gifted it to her, on one of many christmases spent just the two of them, when russell left them alone for two weeks in a motel room.

▸ quinn had lingering faith in god, though moreso for it represented her idyllic childhood and a time in which she lived in relative normalcy. she is now a heretic. not a skeptic, a heretic.

“i thought you were saving this for dad..?” quinn, 12 mumbles, sleepily lifting her head from the shitty motel couch. she frowns, as you, 8, crawl up on the cushions to face her. your form is illuminated by the christmas lights she stole from the house down the street, while you were sleeping. “dad’s not here. you are,” you point out, as if it’s as simple as that. maybe it is. “i warded it. kinda.” your brows knit, sitting cross-legged in front of her as you hold up the necklace, shifting as if embarrassed. “i dunno. i jus' followed a few things i saw when i was snooping through dad’s journal. they probably don’t work, but..” they don't. she knows, just from running a finger over the silver emblem of the cross, that it's virtually useless. she couldn't give less of a fuck. instead, she turns, hands gathering up her hair and pushing it upwards, exposing the pale expanse of her nape. "put it on for me?" she asks, after a moments' silence, not even scolding you for, first of all; looking at dad's journal (big nono). secondly; trying your hand at an ancient, potentially town-levleling rite you can't even read properly because you wanted to give her a christmas present. who does that? (her baby sister, that's who. and the thought swells quinn with pride and a curshing wave of love, even though she knows she should be a good big sister and tell you off). except, she can't. not when your fingers so cautious, so soft—unweathered by the callouses of hunting life, the grooves of clutching a knife to your chest, unfamiliar with the cold metal of a trigger guard. she savours your softness. drinks it in, in a way she already knows is greedy but she can't help it, and in the moment you finish clumsily clasping it around her neck, she turns and flings her arms around you and tucks you close to her chest. nose burrowing into the familiar, earthy scent of your sweatdamp locks and promises to mom and to god that'll she'll take care of you for as long as she fucking lives. "i'm never taking it off, ever. i swear, lil' sis." "..never ever?" "never fucking ever."

▸ since losing her faith, quinn wears the cross necklace inverted. it is symbolic of her devotion—not to god—but to her sister.

▸ nobody calls quinn ‘lucy’ except for her father. this is because judy named her, and he clutches onto his wife through quinn. quinn goes by her middle name for the same reason.

▸ russell used to keep quinn's hair long as a child, for the same reason that she reminded him of judy, and preserve his eldests' semblance of innocence. quinn now regularly hacks it off to various lengths for practicality's sake.

OVERARCHING PLOT CONTEXT (SPN S1-5): follows the canon trajectory of spn seasons 1-5. angels/demons working together in order to break the seals, free lucifer and jumpstart the apocalypse. quinn is the vessel for michael, and her baby sister is the vessel for lucifer.

her baby sister was not sent by the angels, but was in fact delivered by azazel, the same demon who killed their mother. russell fabray, rather than being a voice/prophet of god, he has been obliviously consorting with devils, disguised as angels, who have been using him and his children to bring about the apocalypse.

to be finished.

[williamwheeler]

noo tina don't hit your head so hard that you give up on fighting for the respect you deserve and just become a rachel crony instead haha you're so sexy 😜

[cryscendo]

GLEE (2009-2015) - PROM QUEEN

Ladies and gentlemen, your 2011 prom queen, Kurt Hummel. (insp)