#my drafts are gonna get demented

[darth-kote]

Taking a short lil break from the blog to force myself to finally finish TBB

see u on the other side, troopers 🫡🫠

[phantomdoofer]

A Brother's Tale - Running Hell

Gustavo strolled into the briefing room, holding his pack over his shoulder. He could see Giuseppe was already there, Anita beside him. Something was wrong. Giuseppe was slumped forward, his shoulders tighter than normal. Anita had her hand on the man's shoulder, with an expression of uncharacteristic concern.

Gustavo set down his pack and went over to his friend. I mean, with all the shit we've gone through, we've all got problems, but something feels... extra wrong.

Giuseppe looked devastated. He was staring at his hands, which held what was probably some kind of report. Gustavo knew the enemy had unveiled some terrifying new weapon, which was devastating the entire world. Plus they'd somehow found a huge group of new soldiers, and the allied lines were being pushed incredibly hard. Somehow, this feels more personal. Oh no, was our hometown targeted? Mom, Dad, Gustavo, Mama Spaghetti, Peppino... "Sepp?" He said tentatively. "What's happened?"

Without looking up, Giuseppe spoke. "Peppino may be dead."

Gustavo was stunned. A huge chunk of why this wild bunch of essentially super-powered individuals stayed in line was the knowledge that their other selves were being kept safe. I mean, accidents happen, but... "How?"

Giuseppe continued. "Somebody fucked up the paperwork that was supposed to keep clones out of the draft. A lot of clones got drafted... including Peppino and Gustavo."

Gustavo's heart stopped. Mine? But what... what about my parents? They need him! His parents, both ill from a chemical attack early in the war, relied on the other Gustavo for help and income.

Giuseppe shook his head. "They've been in the front lines a while now. Yesterday there was a bad ambush. Peppino and Gustavo's unit got wiped out, except for them. Peppino took one of those new shredder rounds right in the chest." He choked. Most of them considered their clones to be siblings. "Gustavo was wounded too, but he managed to get Peppino to a field hospital. They're working on him, but they don't know if he's gonna make it."

Suddenly Giuseppe wadded the paper into a tight ball, and threw it across the room. "My brother may be dead! Peppino might be dead! Because some goddamn pencil-pusher forgot to do their goddamn job!" He leaned over, clutching his sides, growling as he tried not to scream in grief and rage.

His friend's distress overrode his own fear for his brother. And there's not a damn thing we can do about this. Anita leaned over and hugged Giuseppe. "I'm so sorry, Sepp," she said.

The Major walked in, not doing his usual act for once. His face was grave. "I see you've gotten the news. If it's any consolation Giuseppe, I had no idea until it was too late myself. He's getting the best care they've got there, but they can't afford to move him." Giuseppe looked at the Major, who looked him in the eyes and said, "I truly hope he makes it."

Giuseppe's eyes were harder than Gustavo had ever seen them. They looked twisted, demented. This is worse than when he's running. When he spoke, his voice shook. "I hope so, Major. If my brother dies, I... I..." he looked back down. His voice grew tiny. "I don't know what'll happen."

The Major came over and stood in front of them. "Easy, soldier. You're getting close to talking about defection... or worse. I understand how you feel, but keep it under control. I guarantee you, the ones responsible for this are already on the way out. This was a major blunder, one that should've been caught several times over." He smiled grimly. "Now, I need you to come to the Theater," the Major said, referring to their rarely-used main briefing room. "We have a new mission."

~~~~

The three of them looked around as they entered the Theater. Here was where they'd been introduced to their new lives. Told the whole deal: the clones, the special talents, the works. Haven't seen this many of us together since we left boot. From one side, a hand waved at Giuseppe. "Oy! Rapitaliano! You break the sound barrier yet?" The voice was teasing, but friendly. Must be Enrique. Only one who ever called me that. He waved back, but didn't trust himself to speak. The guy was the only one faster than him in their original group. They had developed a friendly rivalry. Giuseppe wasn't too surprised he was still around, as fast as he was.

There were a lot of faces missing. We've been lucky. A lot of new faces, too. They all looked nervous. Must be new recruits. He frowned. This has got to stop. The NEED for it has to stop.

As they sat down, Gustavo had his laptop out. "They're hitting cities really hard," he said, looking nervous. "This thing is insane. It just... vaporizes the target. Melts it. Twenty cities now. They're not even just aiming at us. Even the neutral countries are being hit."

"Bet that's the Demons again," Anita said. "They like pain and suffering."

Giuseppe nodded. So far his and Gustavo's hometown had been too small to target. But it was only a matter of time. "They'll destroy the whole world at this rate."

"Attenn-SHUN!" The Major bellowed, and everyone stood straight as an older man strode into the room, moving to the podium. Mentally, Giuseppe whistled. A Five-Star. This is really serious.

The General cleared his throat. "Thank you. Be seated." They sat. "I just want to say thank you all for all your sacrifices. Without you, we would have lost this war long ago." He gestured at the screen behind him, which lit up with a map. "Some of you may have heard that we have located the enemy's secret weapon. This is true. We taken to calling it "Inferno.""

Inferno, Giuseppe thought, "Hell." Good name for a weapon that burns everything.

"Two days ago, the Demons and the Talpas betrayed the Ninda. They had since proceeded to systematically destroy the five biggest Ninda cities." On the map, the Ninda capitol and the four largest cities blinked out.

Anita snorted. "Good riddance." Gustavo elbowed her hard in the side. Giuseppe had mixed feelings. While they were the enemy, he thought about his own family. Can't punish everyone for a few's evil. This is genocide.

"Since this betrayal, the Ninda have offered intelligence and begged for assistance. They've offered an immense amount of information on Inferno, starting with its location." A light appeared on the map. "Our own intelligence agencies have confirmed the Ninda's information. It's close enough for a full strike, but it's heavily protected. And they're using old technology to shield it. There's no way we can take it down with conventional weaponry, or even using old tech. Or so they think." He gestured at the map again, which zoomed in. "Our forces will engage theirs at this location. We're bringing everything in: air support, ground troops... and you." He gestured. "Some of you will join our forces, being distributed to units where your special talents will be useful." He pointed at a few of them, Giuseppe included. "For the ones of you with speed-based abilities, we have a special mission. You're the key to this operation." He clicked again, and a diagram of a piece of Old Tech appeared on the screen.

"A teleporter," Gustavo spoke softly. "I thought they'd all been destroyed."

"We've kept a supply of these in deepest secrecy for just such an occasion. Thanks to the information provided by the Ninda, and some of our own scientists', efforts, they should go right through those damned shields. You fast types will teleport inside, find the control room, and plant a special-made device in their base which will overload this monstrosity."

Giuseppe gulped. He immediately started sweating. Gustavo and Anita both grabbed an arm each, and he untensed a bit.

But not much.

The General looked grim. "I won't lie. This is going to be incredibly dangerous. They will defend it tooth and nail. We'll give you as much time as we can, but if they get that thing charged up, they'll wipe us out. The war will be over. And they'll torch the planet."

Not a sound echoed in the chamber.

"We're counting on you all. It's been seven years since this program began. Hopefully, you will be the last we need."

~~~~

The actual briefing had taken an hour, then they'd been handed their unit assignments. Anita and Gustavo were going with a unit or Army troops.

Giuseppe, of course, had his own assignment.

He stood up to move towards his group. Anita touched his thigh, saying nothing. Gustavo spoke. "Hey, meet us up top afterwards. I've got something I want to do."

Giuseppe nodded, and moved to meet the rest of "Team Blitz."

Enrique was leading the discussion, of course. "Glad you're still here, 'Seppe. Honestly, I think you've got the best chance of pulling this off. Even if I am faster." He gestured in front of him. "No built-in shields."

A teenage girl spoke up. She's so young, Giuseppe thought, from the ripe old age of twenty-two. "Do they really think we can do this? You know the inside of that place will be a deathtrap."

"Exactly why they're sending us," Enrique said, "we might be fast enough to avoid some of it."

Giuseppe spoke, "We have to be. You heard the General. This thing can wipe out the whole force with one shot if they decide to use it. This is a Hail Mary - that thing can just snipe us anywhere in the world. If they spread out enough to not get hit all at once, they'll just be broken. The Demons seem to have endless troops."

Another one, an Ogre woman, spoke. "Think maybe they've found some cloning tanks?"

That thought was sobering. "If they found enough to make this many troops this fast, then that would explain the haste. It's not just Inferno they're worried about. They'll overrun us with endless troops," Enrique said.

"No wonder the Breads are scared, " the Ogre said. "They're gonna join the rest of us in getting wiped out."

All of them stared at the floor for a minute. This really is do or die. For everyone. "We can't afford to fail," Giuseppe said. Everyone nodded. "If we fail, it all fails."

~~~~

Giuseppe found Anita and Gustavo outside, staring up at the sky. He sat beside them. Out here, the stars were a river of light. Truly secret bases don't generate a lot of light, after all. Not on the surface. For several minutes, they sat in silence. Finally, Anita spoke. "Sepp... do you think we're getting out of this one?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the boss," Giuseppe said. "You tell me."

"Sepp, I may take the lead, but it's always you pulling our asses out of the fire." She shrugged. "This is... big. Too big for me." She looked back up. "If... when I get out, I want to just come live someplace like this. Away. What about you two?"

Gustavo shrugged. "I dunno. I kind of want to learn to cook. Wasn't your father a pizzaiolo, Sepp? What about you? Maybe open up a pizzeria?" He smirked.

Giuseppe thought about it. Maybe. "I don't know. I'd have to check on Ma and... and Pino..." his voice trailed off.

Gustavo reached into his pocket. He handed something to each of them. "Here. I made these a while back, but I never got a chance to give them to you until now."

Giuseppe held it up to the starlight. "A leather bracelet?"

"For my truest friends." Gustavo said. "I know, it's stupid and sentimental, but... if something happens... I wanted something for us to remember each other with."

Anita already had hers on. As Giuseppe gently wrapped his around his wrist, Anita hugged him. "I love you, you little boulder." She gathered Giuseppe into the hug, and he leaned into it. He reached around and enveloped the two smaller ones, holding them close.

"You two are family to me, just as much as Ma and Peppino. I won't ask for promises, because I can't make any. But... if don't make it... know that I love you."

The stars watched as the three huddled in silence.

~~~~

Giuseppe stretched and warmed up as they waited for the signal to go. Anita and Gustavo should be with their unit by now. Without his friends there, he was even more anxious than usual. Of course, this possibly being the end of the world as we know it might have something to do with that, too. The others around him were silent. Every face carried a mix of anxiety and determination. Even Enrique wasn't cracking jokes. He gently touched the leather bracelet, and his nerves calmed slightly. Thank you, mio amico. Be safe, both of you.

"Hello there," a familiar voice said behind him.

Giuseppe turned. "Doctor... Houlwea, wasn't it?"

The Ninda smiled. "I'm surprised you remembered! Yes, I've been working to get these teleporters set up." He handed Giuseppe a small cylinder, the size of a pen. "The button on that will bring you back to this." He held up a small briefcase-like device. "It's very old though, so try not to abuse it."

"Thanks, Doctor." He place the small item in one of the many pockets on the front of his suit.

The Ninda hesitated, then placed a hand on Giuseppe's arm. "I want to say thank you again for rescuing me. My notes turned out to be vital in figuring out a way to get these teleporters to work through those shields." He looked down. "I wish I'd known about this Inferno thing. Maybe I could've done... something."

Despite himself, Giuseppe smiled. "Doc, you know they'd probably just have killed you or something. You did what you could."

The bread-man shook himself. "I guess. I hope I get to see you again. We're all rooting for you."

As he walked away, Giuseppe patted his pocket. Hope this thing works. If it doesn't, it'll be charcoal time.

The Major stepped forward. Everyone but Giuseppe jumped. The Major's mustache twitched in amusement. "All right, listen up. The battle started a few minutes ago, and it's fierce. So far there's no sign of them using Inferno. They probably think they don't need to. When you get there, we estimate you'll have about five minutes between them noticing you and the weapon being charged enough to fire. Do not take chances, and don't get fancy. Get to your target, insert that drive, and use those porters to leave. Now, get your arms ready!"

Giuseppe nodded, and pulled his shotgun out. You and me again, he thought. One last run.

Houlwea worked a control panel, and a swirling green and pink portal appeared in front of them. The Major yelled, "That's it! Team Blitz, give em hell!"

They charged through the portal as one.

The transition was instant, moving from their meeting zone to the inside of one of the biggest rooms Giuseppe had ever seen.

All hell broke loose. Bullets began pinging all around him. He dashed forward, Enrique right behind him. They'd agreed at the briefing that he'd lead, acting as a shield for the other runners. Despite his desire to weave and juke, he charged straight ahead, using his special talent to provide a little cover to his teammates.

He heard a cry behind him. Someone had been hit. He heard the thump as they fell, the others hurtling over the body. Nothing I can do for them. Gotta go, gotta go!

The fire was intense. The only thing saving him was the field of pure speed and rage in front of him. Several Talpa and even a few Demons stepped out of alcoves, aiming weapons at them. The runners went on the evasive, the fire too broadly spread now for Giuseppe's shield to offer much protection for them. He heard several cries behind him as runners were hit.

He didn't hear any teleporters going off. Every hit was a kill. He turned the grief into rage, which he turned into acceleration. Faster, faster. Push it, break your limit. Don't let them die in vain.

As he ran, Giuseppe caught glimpses of rooms filled with glass tanks. Cloning tanks. He grinned hugely. Good. Two birds with one stone.

Guiseppe hit a straightaway, and he risked a quick glance behind him. He was shocked to see only himself, the ogre woman, and Enrique left. Oh Mio Dio, we might not make-

As he turned his head forward, a searing pain tore through the right side of his face, from right beside his right eye along the side of his head. He screamed, still running. He felt blood running down the side of his face. How did something get past the shield from that angle? He saw a flash, and a beam of light shot past him. Ahead, a group of Demons fired fiery blasts at the trio.

Oh shit, whatever those are, my shield doesn't stop them! His boots screamed as he started evading, hoping to throw off their aim.

The Ogre woman got past him, charging at the demons. She roared as she was grazed several times, then took a shot full in the chest.

Then Enrique blazed past him. What the hell is he doing??

"Go, 'Seppe! Go! You've got to do it!" He pinballed amongst the Demons, breaking their line and throwing off their aim as he bounced around. Giuseppe had just enough time to see one of them blast him before he was past.

I'm the last one. As he ran, tears streamed from his eyes. He screamed in pain and rage. Rage became speed. Tears mixed with blood as he accelerated more, pushing himself past the limit. Go. His heart felt like it would fly out of his chest, but he ignored it. Go. He skidded around a hairpin turn, barely losing speed. Don't let them have died for nothing. He bounced off a wall, spinning in a desperate attempt to avoid the beams and bullets around him. He felt several grazes, but no real hits. Do it for them. He jumped down a flight of stairs, slid down the handrail of a catwalk, a fall a million miles deep just below his feet. Do it for Anita and Gustavo, Ma and Pino.

DO IT.

Giuseppe ran right through a Demon who stood in front of him, who didn't even have time to respond before exploding into messy bits.

Faster, you bastard, faster!

The sound of alarms dopplered down as Giuseppe pushed himself harder and harder. Suddenly the air seemed to open in front of him, and he saw a shockwave fly away. Sound barrier. True Mach 1. He put everything he had left into his run.

Objects shattered in his wake.

Suddenly he realized he was there. He skidded to a stop, bursting through the door to the control center as he decelerated. It was surprisingly small. Only a couple of Demons were there, holding their heads as the sonic boom deafened them. With burning determination Giuseppe gunned them down. Fuck you and fuck you. Then he stepped over to the control panel. This is for you, guys. He plugged the small drive into the port, and it quickly did its job. He heard the rumble as Inferno's core started to overload. Ok, thirty seconds and this place will melt itself. Good riddance. Now to get out of here. He pulled the small pen trigger out and clicked it.

The pen garbled a strange noise, but nothing happened.

Giuseppe looked down at the pen in horror. "CAZZO!" He shrieked. He started running, back towards the entrance, clicking the pen rapidly. Fuckfuckfuck! The building was shaking, a roar like an angry god chasing him through the halls. He hurtled over fallen soldiers, enemies and allies both. Debris and fallen weapons threatened to trip him constantly.

As he ran, he clicked rapidly. "Come on, come on...!"

*click* *click* *click* *click* *cli-BWIP*

~~~~

The sound of cheering stirred Peppino from his stupor. Wha... what's... He felt so tired, like his body was made of lead. There was a pressure on his face. An oxygen mask. And everything hurt. Last thing I remember was... blood... pain... Gustavo, repeating my name over and over...

He blearily opened his eyes.

From the next bed over, Gustavo looked over. "Oh hey! You're awake!" He hopped down and came over, hopping up on a stool. He grabbed Peppino's hand.

"What... what-a happened?" Peppino said.

Gustavo looked grim. "I almost lost you, Pino. We got ambushed. You got shot, I brought you back. You didn't respond to anything. There was so much blood..." He pointed at the heavy bandages on Peppino's body. "You were close to death, my friend."

"We were... ambushed?" Peppino said. "What about... the others?"

Gustavo looked down.

Peppino's eyes filled with tears. All gone. Like that. I miei fratelli.

Gustavo looked up. "But look! Look at the TV! They did it! They destroyed the enemies' weapon!"

Peppino worked to focus on the screen. The words "Enemy Superweapon Destroyed" floated above a picture of what looked like a mountain of slag.

Peppino sighed. All he could think about was his friends. Riposate in pace, amici miei. He laid back, their faces floating across his mind's eye.

Gustavo patted his hand. "I'll let the doctors know you're awake. They'll be so excited!" As the gnome jumped off, Peppino noticed he had bandages wrapped around his own waist, stained with blood. "Gustavo, you're-a wounded, too?"

Gustavo waved a hand. "Non è niente. I got a graze while I was bringing you in. Nothing serious." He ran out the door.

Guilt filled Peppino's heart. Mio amico, that was no graze. You nearly got yourself killed saving me.

He looked back at the screen. People were celebrating in the cities. Outside, someone was setting off fireworks.

Peppino cringed, the sound distorting into bombs and gunfire, screams and curses.

~~~~

Be glad you didn't lose your eye, Giuseppe thought as he touched the bandage covering the right side of his face. Or your head. Part of his right ear was gone, burned away. The skin between his eye socket and ear had been fried, too. It would heal, but he'd have a hell of a scar.

I'm still here. If it hadn't been for the pain, he might not have believed it.

When Giuseppe walked in, the Theater erupted into raucous cheers and applause. Before he could respond, Anita and Gustavo wrapped around him.

"You did it, you did it!" They yelled together. Suddenly Anita dragged his face down and kissed him full on the lips, causing the crowd to erupt in whistles, catcalls and jeers of "get a room!" Giuseppe grinned despite himself. "Anita, I didn't know you cared."

She pressed a hand to his lips. "Don't read too much into it, Sepp. I'm just glad you're alive, friend."

The reminder of the other runners sobered him. "How many did we lose?"

Gustavo looked sad. "A lot. All the other runners. And most of us that were outside, too. There's maybe a dozen of us left." He looked up at Anita. "We got really lucky."

Giuseppe looked down. Riposate in pace, fratelli miei.

With mixed feelings, he let his friends drag him into the crowd. He didn't feel much like celebrating, but everyone else did. Can't blame them too much. The world didn't end.

A few minutes later, the Major came in, and pulled him aside. "I wanted you to know, your brother pulled through. In fact, he just woke up."

Giuseppe felt a band of tension snap in his heart. Ih grazie a Dio. Giuseppe grinned hugely, and gave the Major a giant hug that lifted him off his feet. Putting him down, happy tears in his eyes, Giuseppe threw up both fists and yelled "MY BROTHER LIVES!" Anita and Gustavo cheered loudly, the crowd cheered back, despite not knowing the context, and the Major straightened his tie. "I'll let that one slide this time, Spaghetti. Don't do it again." Then he smiled. "I'm glad. We've lost too much already."

Giuseppe smiled at him. "Amen per questo, Major."

~~~~

Standing outside in the predawn gloom, Giuseppe looked up at the fading stars. It's a new world from here on out. The program was officially being shut down, once things had been wrapped up with the war. Or at least, the original version was. Some of them were staying, including the three of them, to form the core of a new military branch. The world would still need guardians. Some sort of mixture of elite strike forces and intelligence operations, no name yet. But Giuseppe understood. There were far more threats than one alliance of aggressors.

Giuseppe smiled. It all meant something, in the end, after all.

Gustavo and Anita walked up on either side of him. He wrapped his arms around his smaller companions.

The three stood and watched as the sun rose.

~~~~

Peppino leaned back in his recliner, looking at his brother with newfound respect. "That was you!" he said in awe. "You're the one they called the Hellrunner."

Giuseppe grinned meekly from his position laying on Peppino's couch. "Yes. I don't know who came up with that, but it eventually became my call sign."

"The news channels were full of-a people speculating about the soldier who took that Demon superweapon down. It all sounded so fanciful and-a overblown. But knowing the kind of people who did it now..." He looked down. "Its still hard for me to believe I survived." Peppino said.

"You shouldn't have been in the war at all," Giuseppe said, frowning. "None of you. I found the ones who lost that paperwork and we had... words."

Peppino laughed. "So where are the bodies buried?"

Giuseppe chuckled. "Words. Just words. Not to say there weren't a few... implications."

Peppino grew serious. "All I did was take down a tower. You saved the world."

Giuseppe sat up. "Don't sell yourself short, Pino. We'd been trying to track down Pizzahead for years. If I'd have found him, I'd have sent in several teams. The technology in that tower could have done untold damage." He pointed at Peppino. "You are a strong man. Don't forget that."

Coming from the old soldier in front of him, that was quite a compliment. Peppino tried not to swell with pride. "Thank you for the story, fratello."

"Any time, fratellino."

[bugwolfsstuff]

More W.I.Ps Yay

Psychopomp

Summary: Travis has psychopomp powers, Connor likely does too but no one knows other than Travis himself. Travis decides to summon Luke for some reason.

Notes to myself:

[the no good bad evil oneshot about Luke and Travis]

[Travis summons Luke]

[Make sure there has to be a lifeline that keeps Travis alive during the ritual.]

[Have his lifeline accidentally be Katie]

[Have Katie show up near the end]

[He compares the whispering to Katie talking so much, and that causes things to spitball and anchor his life]

["Great, just what I needed—Katie's voice in surround sound," he grumbled, a desperate attempt at humour in the face of the spectral onslaught.]

[Diaktoros- Guide, Messenger]

[Athanatos Diaktoros- Immortal guide]

["What are you doing?" Luke said

Travis rips the blanket off himself and throws it on the ground, suddenly disgusted by its existence.

"Don't throw my blanket".]

[Have Travis have a panic attack when Katie arrives because he's so scared of what she thinks]

[Have Travis refer to him and Katie as a demented demigod Persephone and Hades]

Small extract:

"Hey..."

"Mmm...five more minutes," I mumbled, trying to get at least a few more moments of sleep. The last few nights have been sleepless and filled with tossing and turning, nightmares and a bunch of other stuff I don't wanna talk about; sleep was something I really needed right now.

"Hey, Trav."

I shoved a pillow over my head. "Go away". I don't care if it was Cecil, Chris, or Connor—wow, there are alot of C names in this cabin. What is Hermes' deal with names that start with a C?

"Travis Thomas Stoll. Wake. Up. Now."

That wasn't even close to my middle name. I don't even think I have a middle name. But before I could even point that fact out, a small fist decided to acquaint itself with my stomach.

So it was Connor.

That little shithead.

------

2. Who is the monster? the children?

Summary: Magnus Chase/Norse myth oneshot of Loki's 'monster' children being brought to Odin. From the third person view of Hel.

Notes to myself:

[F you Odin]

[Think of a nickname for Jormungandr because I ain't calling him by his full name for the entire shot.]

[Forgot Hel was the youngest midway through this, so let's pretend Hel is freakishly (horrible phrasing) strong]

[Technically, a monster isn't a bad thing to be. It just has bad associations]

[Fun fact: Monster derives from the Latin monstrum, itself derived ultimately from the verb moneo—to remind, warn, instruct, or foretell

[höggspjót—chopping spear. It takes its name from Old Norse högg, stroke, blow, slaughter, beheading and spjót, "spear]

[They are so gonna use that on the snake :(]

Small extract:

 She assumes they must be young because they are only as big as Fenrir. Not as big as her mom or other Jotun.

Jormungandr hissed in her arms. She was playing with him when the warriors came with their pointy weapons and red faces, so he refused to let go of her. Even when the warriors pointed their höggspjót at him and

------

3. Wine Child: chapter two draft 4? Fuck what number are we on?

Summary: Percy's pov of the de aged Mr D fanfic. Hebe shows up, dumps 8yr old Dio at camp. Ruins Percy's date. Dives into Dio's demigod trauma.

Notes to myself:

[Work on chapter title]

[Dio has a sword, where does he get the sword? fuck knows. Hebe gave the 8yr old a sword for funsies]

[He's wearing a girls outfit and has wild curly hair]

[make him punch Percy in the balls]—has been changed to Will now.

Small extract:

Did I mention that she's holding a very alive-looking, violently squirming gym bag?

"Well, it's a funny story, really." She said, which meant in god language: It was very much not funny, but you better laugh or I vaporize you.

She twirled the gym bag in her hand as she talked, pulling it up by the straps and tipping it upside down like a very angry yoyo.

Whatever was in the bag really didn't like that, which to be fair, I'd be pretty cranky if some goddess shoved me in a gym bag and then started playing with the bag like a yoyo.

"What I didn't account for was how whiney he was. So then I thought, hmm, where was the best place where he could learn to appreciate youth? Nowhere else but summer camp!" 

[justthesauce]

AKDLGKELJGJGKFKG I meant to save this as a DRAFT so I could write the definitions when I wasn't bone weary. I need to fix this oh my god I'm so sorry

Jfc

EDIT: okay. Definitions added. Fuck me. I'm gonna walk into the mountains and then into the sea.

EDIT 2: fuck me. I guess tumblr doesn't like it when you try to edit a "keep reading" post. I can't get the definitions to show up.

Anyway. @leafwateraddict (and anyone else): if you want the definitions for all those words, here they are

Macabre (adj): gruesome, often related to death but can also mean something generally horrifying and demented.

Catatonic (adj): being completely unresponsive to and unaware of one's environment (someone who is in a coma could be described as catatonic)

Sycophant (n): someone who pursues power or social advancement through flattery

Sonmabulist (n): someone who sleepwalks

Torpid (adj): sluggish and lethargic

Truculent (adj): to be aggressively defiant; prone to hostile behavior

Perfidy (n): treachery, usually deliberate and calculated

Edenic (adj): relating to the Garden of Eden; something being of paradise

Satiate (v): to satisfy, usually in the context of eating (both literally and metaphorically)

Cenotaph (n): a monument or tomb constructed to honor dead people/person whose remains lie somewhere else

Coagulate (v): for a liquid to turn into a semi-solid or solid state (usually used for when fresh blood gets that sticky gel-like texture)

Dolorous (adj): sad, mournful, emotionally painful

Wyrd (n): old Norse word that basically means fate (more or less) (fun fact: though the definition has changed, "weird" does in fact come from "wyrd")

Maliferous (adj): unhealthy or unsafe

Hellacious (adj); extremely distasteful; impressive

Antipathy (n): extreme dislike of something to the point where it is considered opposite to your very being

Unctious (adj): annoyingly and overwhelming sincere; made of oil or fat (or to have the qualities of oil or fat)

Desiderium (n): longing or desire, especially in the context of loss or grief for something that was lost

Immurement (n): to be buried alive (not necessarily in the ground. A wall or box also works, so long as there's no way to get out)

Excision (n): the cutting off of something; being cut off from the church (like excommunication)

Deliquesence (v): to dissolve or melt (frequently used when talking about fungus turning into a liquid with age)

Bathetic (adj): unsatisfying or anticlimactic; the extreme juxtaposition of the grandiose and the commonplace

And of course...

Grandiloquent (adj): someone who uses big words <3

they need to come up with more words like necrosis and miasma and mausoleum and cadaver and morose and decrepit and stuff like that just so metal bands can expand their vocabulary

[riddlegecko]

Memory wipe au with nightmares? Idk

This is gonna be like a first draft of a scene I wanna write into a full Memory Wipe AU fic someday, because Anya dreaming is a pretty big plot point.

Anya never used to dream. Whenever she fell asleep, she'd always be subjected to eight long hours of nothingness, before waking up feeling refreshed. Perhaps it was another side-effect of the memory loss.

Emma had joked about envying Anya for her lack of dreams, plus her consistent sleep schedule. Apparently she was often subjected to horrible nightmares, causing her to wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Anya was quite the heavy sleeper, so she never noticed when this happened.

But tonight, as Anya drifted off to sleep, she found herself wandering through a dark labyrinth with rusted golden walls and a rancid odor wafting through the air.

"Hello?" Anya called out, her voice echoing as it bounced off the decrepit maze walls. "I-is anyone there?"

"HuahuahuhuahuhahahahaHAHAHAAAA~!"

Anya startled and hastily plugged her ears at the deafeningly loud laughter that had responded to her call. It was wild and demented, sadistic and hysterical. The stench of the maze grew stronger, and Anya removed one hand from her ears to plug her nose.

"Wh-who's there!?" Anya stammered, looking around the maze for even the briefest glimpse of another face.

"Getting into your head wasn't easy, my little Tin Soldier~!" the mysterious voice quipped. "But now I've got you right where I want you! IN TINKY'S FAVORITE LITTLE TOY BOX! HUAHUHUHUHAHAHAAAA~!"

Anya trembled as the voice grew louder, and the scent of rotting meat grew stronger. "Show yourself!" she snapped.

"If you insist~"

Before Anya could so much as blink, a cloud of mustard-yellow smoke puffed up in front of her. Emerging from the thick smoke, was a truly vile-looking sight. A seven foot-tall man clad head-to-toe in a crude, scraggly yellow goat costume. His face was concealed by a dead-looking mask with glassy blue eyes and stained, crooked teeth. A long, wet tongue flopped out the side of his mouth. His body was covered by a baggy body suit with matted, prickly yellow fur and an orange belly. Anya looked up at the monster that stood before her in terror.

"What... are you...?" Anya gasped out breathlessly.

"Just a friend~" the goatman replied, clapping his all-too-human hands together with glee. "A friend who knows you better than you know yourself, little Tin Soldier~!"

Anya's eyes widened at the implication. "A-are you saying..." she sputtered. "You know who I was before I lost my memories?"

The goatman burst out cackling once more. "YOU BET YOUR ASS, PRINCESS!" he bellowed. "I know all about you!"

"Tell me!" Anya pleaded desperately. "Tell me who I was before I woke up in that office! Please, I'm begging you!"

The goatman tilted his massive, shaggy-haired head to the side. "Now why the FUCK would I do that!?" he asked, dashing Anya's hopes. "I've been having so much FUN watching you flounder and fail~!"

Anya clasped her hands together, looking up at the goatman with pleading eyes. "Please, I just want to remember who I am!" she begged, feeling useless. She felt herself choking up. "I-I want to know why I'm in Hatchetfield, and why I look just like Emma!"

"TOUGH SHIT, TIN SOLDIER!" the goatman screamed with sadistic joy.

Without warning, he reached down and effortlessly lifted Anya from the ground with one hand by her throat. Anya kicked her legs out wildly, struggling in his grip.

"Put me down!" she cried, looking into the goatman's dead blue eyes with fear.

"It's so delicious watching you squirm~!" her tormentor taunted maliciously. "But I'm feeling generous tonight, and I do love a good riddle~! So I'll give you a little HINT!"

The goatman held up his free hand, summoning another cloud of smoke into it. Materializing from the smoke was a worn-out, pitiful looking stuffed bear. He dropped Anya to the ground, and plopped the bear in her lap.

"A teddy bear?" Anya inquired, inspecting the toy curiously.

The bear definitely looked like it had seen better days. It was scruffy and sad, with several tiny tears with tufts of stuffing poking out. It smelled of cigarette smoke and booze, which was like perfume compared to the goatman's decomposing corpse odor. But most unusual was what the bear was dressed up in. A tan coat and a black beanie. What was the significance of these clothes, and why did they look so familiar?

"It's Tinky's favorite Teddy Bear~!" the goatman explained, still looming over Anya.

"What the hell am I supposed-"

Anya looked back up, only for the goatman to not be there. And before she could call out to him again, she was suddenly forced back into the waking world. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself back in the sweet familiarity of Emma's apartment.

"Morning Anya!" she heard Emma greet her from the tiny kitchen area. Anya spun around from her sleeping bag to see her roommate/pretend sister rummaging through the cupboards. "I bought those strawberry Pop Tarts you like while I was out shopping yesterday, you want one?"

"S-sure..." Anya replied, not sure what to make of her dream.

Emma made eye contact as she strode over, two Pop Tarts in hand. "You alright?" she asked. "You look a little out of it."

"I just..." Anya stammered, running her hand through her sleep-tousled curls. "I had a weird nightmare."

"Aw, I'm sorry," Emma said, handing Anya one of the pastries. Her gaze flitted off to the foot of the sleeping bag, a look of intrigue crossing her face. "Have you always had that bear?"

Anya felt herself jump. "Wh-what!?" she stammered. She snapped her gaze to where Emma was looking, and was met with the sight of the ragged, pathetic stuffed toy the goatman had given her. She snatched it up, regarding it's worn appearance and wincing at the strong musk of smoke and alcohol wafting off of it. "I think... I should tell you about my dream, Emma."

[allicekitty13]

Born To Run: Chapter 1

Mary-Alice Brandon has just returned to her hometown after an incident causing her to relocate just a year ago. Meanwhile, Jasper has become increasingly frustrated with his home life and decides to uncover just what exactly his brother had been hiding. In 1957 two people, with two drastically different personalities meet for the first time. Will their worlds clash or will they realize the only ones they can truly trust with their secrets are each other.

Read On Ao3

Read On FFN

Her eyes fluttered open at the prompting chime of her alarm clock currently ringing on the bedside table to her right. Mustering up as much energy as possible when one was just pulled promptly frum slumber, Alice rolled from the comfortable position on her side to lie flat on her back. Despite the powder blue clock still ringing throughout her bedroom, Alice couldn't help but to reflect on the wonderful dream she'd been having.

In the night vision, she'd been back in Paris shopping with her step-sister Kate. Being in France the past year had been like a dream come true, a much-needed break from the reality she'd been forced to return to. Kate was newly engaged and thus had decided to return home to Nevada with Alice and her fiance, Garrett, in tow. 

Alice's stomach grumbled loudly and painfully, pulling her from the reminiscing session. She snapped her eyes shut tightly, attempting to ignore the alarm's offending bell and the painful ache in her stomach.  Of course, it was no use; her vacation was over. It was time to come down from the clouds and return to reality. Needing to focus on one issue at a time and the alarm still prompting to her side currently being the most prominent, Alice took a deep breath accepting her fate. Summing the energy to flick the little tab on top of the clock to the off position effectively silenced the alarm blanketing the room in silence. 

Willing herself to sit up fully, Alice removed the pale pink sleeping mask covering her eyes, finally greeting the day. She pulled the plush comforter away from her small body and swung her left over the mattress, placing her feet in the house slippers kept neatly next to the bed. She pulled the think pink satin robe that hung from her bedpost over her thin shoulders as she crossed the room to the window overlooking the back garden. Pulling open the lace curtains, Alice gazed down at the flowers.

It was just before dawn, her favorite time of the day. Alice reveled in the way the dim twilight touched down on the beautiful flowers and the small white iron bench she had coerced her father into placing in the middle of the lovely space. The scene was peaceful; day had started, although night hadn't quite ended. Nature reflecting how nothing was black and white; there were gray areas in everything, in everyone. Nothing like the reality she would be walking into in only a few hours. 

Turning her attention back to the clock, the small teen accepted that she had been staring out the window, lost in thought for far too long. Something her step-father, whom she was meant to meet for breakfast shortly, was regularly scolding her for.

She didn't remember her biological father, and her mother rarely spoke of the man. The facts she had were that her parents had been wed young in an arranged marriage in 1938, Edgar Brandon had been drafted to join the war just two years after Alice was born. The man had gone missing in action, presumed dead. 

Shortly after Alice's fourth birthday, Lilian had met a charming man by the name of Eleazar Burke. Before the year was out, the happy couple were married. Eleazar was the only father Alice had ever known. The now seventeen-year-old adored her unusual family; Kate was more than she could have ever asked for in an older sibling they, of course, fought at times but very close. While they may not be biologically related, Alice couldn't imagine a kinder, more understanding father in Eleazar. He loved all three of his daughters, including Alice, equally never playing favorites. He didn't play favorites, distributing the wealth and opportunity attached to his name evenly between the three girls.

Once she'd gotten moving, preparing for the day came like second nature. She now stood in front of the mirror with her hair and makeup done. She was fully dressed in her favorite skirt and sweater set, complete with the new petticoat she had picked up shopping with Kate over the summer. She'd been saving it specifically for her first day at school back in her hometown since the incident. The way it flared out the red skirt was both fashionable and made her hips look just a bit thicker. The matching cardigan hung somewhat loose, also in line with the current trends while slightly masking the frailness of her frame. She smoothed down the skirt and straightened out her pan collar perfectly before pinning both sides down with the lucky pearl collar pins inherited from her maternal grandmother. Alice took one final look in the mirror with a deep breath and silent prayer. She plastered a smile on her face, ready to face the day.

Meanwhile, across town, Jasper Whitlock was in for a quite literal rude awakening. "Wake up, sleepyhead. We're gonna' be late for school." With a groan of annoyance, Jasper opened his eyes to the familiar face of his cousin Rosalie. The sassy blonde was simultaneously one of his favorite people yet also the curse of his existence. Jasper frequently shifted between feelings of gratefulness for having such a fun-loving relative living next door and wishing her family had never moved across the country to help out after his mother's passing.

With her presently standing next to his bed, hands on her hips, very likely fully prepared to throw something at him if he didn't get moving. He was currently feeling the latter. "Since when do you care about school?" He groaned, sitting up on the thin mattress lying on the floor. "More importantly, why are you here, and how did you get in my room?"

"The door, your dads passed out again and it was unlocked." Rosalie shrugged, crossing the room to take a seat at the only chair not covered in clothing, sheet music, or records as she examined her nails. "Anyway, I don't care about school, but I don't want to miss the fireworks, so we're at least going to morning classes. Now, get up and get dressed."

"What are you yammering on about?" Jasper responded as he threw the worn, tattered blankets to the side and grabbed a white t-shirt from its place, lazily shoved into an already open dresser drawer directly to the side of his mattress.

"Mary-Alice Brandon is coming back today."

"Yeah," The other teen rolled his eyes. "Well fuck Mary-Alice Brandon."

"Oh, come on, tell me you don't care about the inherent entertainment of watching everyone flock back to following her lead and leaving poor Charlotte in the dust."

"You're demented."

"You know how petty high school politics amuse me so." The tall blonde woman shrugged before she stood straightening out her leather jacket as she crossed the room. "At least come to support your best friend? Charlotte is either going to be elated or upset. If it's the latter, it's going to make Pete upset. Relationships are kind of like dominos that way. Now hurry up, Riley's waiting outside, and we need a ride, oh favorite cousin of mine."

With that, Rosalie confidently strutted out of her cousin's room, down that hallway. In the Whitlock's living room, her mother and uncle were engaged in the same decade-old argument they'd been having from the moment Ruth and Joseph Hale had packed up their family moving from New York to Nevada. Rosalie had only been one at the time, having no memory of what actually happened. The backlash, however, had caused a ripple effect through the lives of everyone in the family. Because of this, it was no secret that Irene Whitlock had passed away shortly after Jasper's birth. That uncle Thomas had fallen into deep despair losing his job and drinking the days away. 

It was concern for the boys, James and Jasper, that had prompted the move. Her mother so worried for her nephew's well being that they'd relocated their entire lives to be there and help take care of them. It was meant to be temporary until Thomas got back on his feet. Seventeen years later, the siblings were still arguing over it. Her mother pleading for the man to think of his children. 

Unwilling to witness the same fight yet again, Rosalie left the house and headed to the street where her twin brother stood leaning against Jasper's car. "Is he coming?" Riley asked, disinterestedly kicking absently at the pavement, scuffing up his shoes in the process. 

"Yeah, I had to guilt-trip him, but he's coming."

Just as the words had left Rosalie's mouth, the seventeen-year-old in question came shuffling out of the house. Once the door was carefully and quietly shut behind him, Jasper's demeanor shifted, and he confidently stalked down the sidewalk, climbing into his car without uttering a single word. No sooner had the twins piled into the vehicle behind him than Jasper had peeled out of the driveway headed in the direction of the local high school, barely giving Riley enough time to pull the door shut.

Outside the school, Peter, Jasper's best friend, a tall boy with dark hair, was standing in the parking lot talking to Charlotte. The pair had begun dating over the summer, much to Jasper's annoyance. Their relationship had started in the fall when the girl had entered the antique shop owned by Jasper's uncle that Peter worked in part-time. The two had hit it off as instant friends. Despite a plethora of drama involving Charlotte's now ex-boyfriend Demetri and her friend Jane, the pair had entered into a romantic relationship.

While Jasper didn't particularly care for the girl or her crowd, Peter was gone for her. So the teen put up with Charlotte, and more often than he'd like the teenage queens who followed her around like puppies. Over time, though he would die before admitting it to anyone, he'd even begun to almost like her.

So, when he exited his car, Jasper nodded in greeting to the new couple from across the parking lot before turning to his own social circle in the parking space next to his own. The teens were gathered around admiring Benjamin's new car that he'd won in a race just a few weeks prior. Maria, one of his oldest friends having grown up in the same neighborhood, was already stretched out across the hood leaning back against the windshield. A cigarette burned from its place tucked loosely between her fingers as she chatted with Lucy and Nettie about their plans for the afternoon once they'd ditched.

Jasper was well aware that most if any of the assembled teenagers would be ducking out before the end of the school day. Personally, he intended to be long gone as soon as Rosalie's attention was elsewhere. Which, judging by how engaged she seemed to be in her conversation with Benjamin and Randall on the mechanical details of the new car, wouldn't be long. However, he was already here, and it wouldn't hurt to at least stay for first period. So he elected to join in on Riley, Makenna, and Charles's conversation about the new Buddy Holly single.

Jasper had just made plans with the latter two to head to the local diner later and play the song on the jukebox when Peter, followed closely by Charlotte, headed over to collect his best friend for homeroom. Bidding his friends goodbye, Jasper followed the other boy, his girlfriends, and the group of students she associated with into the building where their lockers were located. As always, because lockers were assigned alphabetically by surname, Peter and Jasper's lockers were right next to each other. 

Not planning on being an active student, let alone showing up at school more often than necessary, Jasper hadn't brought alone anything to warrant keeping in a locker. So, he took a seat on a bench located under a window next to the set of lockers letting the other teens chat as they placed their belonging in the metal storage structures. 

"Is that Mary-Alice?" Eric Yorke, a rather talkative and, in Jasper's opinion, annoying boy gasped out capturing his and Charlotte's attention. The latter turned away from her conversation with Bella and Jane to look at the boy in confusion. 

Charlotte had known her best friend was back in town, but when they'd spoken earlier Alice, as she'd decided to begin going by dropping the first half of her name, had stated her parents would allow the tiny teen to skip the first week of classes. Being an exceptional student well on the way to becoming valedictorian, and taking the incident into consideration, the school had happily accommodated.

"I thought you said she wasn't coming back until next week Char?" Bella spoke quietly, her eyes now following the same trajectory of Eric's

"Looks like the reign of Charlotte is over." Mike snickered, also staring at the top of the stairwell. Following her friends' gaze, Charlotte's expression quickly morphed from one of confusion to that of utter delight. 

Jasper didn't care much for the particulars of high school politics. Prior to Peter's entanglement with Charlotte, the name Mary-Alice had been nothing more than a blip on his radar. The two ran in vastly different circles, he being a proud greaser surrounding himself with like-minded truants who cared more about races and the newest records than anything else. She, a spoiled overachiever. The goody-two-shoes type who headed every committee whose word the majority of student's hung on. Still, even he'd noticed when the girl had disappeared a year ago. So, he turned his attention to the sight that had captured everyone's attention, curious as to what the commotion was about.

 He was met with the sight of a girl who's smile was so pure she almost seemed to glow. Short despite her blatant attempt to make up the difference with the kitten heels she wore. Her slightly curly hair was a chocolate-colored brown rested just short of her chin. Based on the perfect angles of her collar and the way she kept nervously smoothing out her skirt, it was apparent that she'd taken great care to ensure every aspect of her appearance was perfect. His dislike for the teen was instant; he hardly tried to hide the scowl from his face as he watched her scan the hallway. Once her blue eyes landed upon the small group, she burst into a bright smile and a somehow graceful run down the stairwell.

"Charlotte!" Alice exclaimed in a melodic chirp as she reached the gathering. 

"Alice!" The taller girl responded with equal enthusiasm throwing her arms around her friend. "What are you doing at school?" She questioned the smile never leaving her face as she released her friend.

"Papa thought it might be best to just jump right in if I was up for it since I'm home already." Her smile faltered at the statement but returned quickly. "Who are our new friends?" She asked catching sight of Jasper and Peter eyeing the two with curiosity. The former of whom rolled his eyes at the assumption, he was not nor would her ever be her friend.

Jasper opened his mouth to inform this 'Mary-Alice' of as much, but Charlotte responded before he could get the words out. "Alice," She stated grabbing Peter's hand. "This is Peter, my boyfriend. And that's his best friend Jasper."

"Wow," Alice's eyes widened. "I have missed a lot. It's lovely to meet you both." She smiled once again as she took a seat on the bench next to Jasper, expertly tucking her skirt underneath her slim legs as she descended. "The four of us should go bowling after school; I'd love to get to know the both of you better."

Jasper's annoyance grew at the suggestion, unable to put up with anymore he stood in a haste. "That's never going to happen." He shot the small girl a glare and stormed down the hall out of the building. Forget Rosalie, he thought approaching his vehicle in the parking lot. Forget school, and most of all forget Mary-Alice Brandon.

[yakumtsaki]

Alright you guys, sorry for the delay, I’ve had to restart this post 20 fucking times because my changes weren’t being saved in the draft and then I kept getting the ‘upload failed’ error. In case you don’t remember wtf is going on you might wanna re-read the last update (I certainly had to) which is apparently from JUNE 2018. Jfc I suck so hard. Now this was gonna be really long but tumblr wouldn’t post it so I’m breaking it up in 3 parts, part 2 to be posted tomorrow. For those that don’t feel like reading back, general recap of the last couple updates:

Jojo cheated on Wyatt with Max Flexor and my solution to that marital crisis was to adopt our first dog ever, a puppy hilariously named Maxx.

The puppy grew up to be an asshole and is constantly beating up the cats, who have turned into giant pussies (no pun intended) and are losing every fight to him despite the fact they’re named after Mortal Kombat characters. They’re a fucking disgrace to Alegra’s/Victor’s/Ronroneo’s memory and I haven’t settled on a cat heir yet because they both suck.

Jojo is perma miserable, I don’t even remember how much money away from his 100k LTW, and still not a werewolf despite my pathologically persistent attempts to make him friends with the wolf.

Fucking useless Wyatt didn’t get promoted while Komei was alive providing us with his 100 townie friends, we spent 20 updates befriending every rando that crossed our lot to secure his promotion, and then finally on the day he was supposed to become Captain Hero, Wyatt got, of course, fired and is now on track to take longer to complete his literal career based LTW than Komei took to get 6 pets on the top of their careers.

Absolutely everyone hates noogie addict Shajar, she got a Kylo Ren makeover, and we still don’t know what her sexual orientation is thanks to her ridiculous fitness/fatness turn ons and cleanliness turn off.

Golden child/10 nice points freakshow Cyneswith grew up, rolled romance with the most disturbing turn-ons/offs possible (grey hair/mechanical & charisma turn off) and the 20 simultaneous lovers LTW.

Wulf grew up into a kid, got an Amadeus makeover, is officially a Wyatt clone and the only member of this family I don’t completely hate yet.

Now I’d like to begin the first Union post in more than a year by requesting you do me a solid and lower your expectations for this thing as far down as humanly possible. Like really try to recreate the Jules Verne classic “Journey to the Center of the Earth” with your expectations here, because my brain is so fucking fried that there’s a 20% chance I randomly start citing sources at some point during this post. This grad school crap has seriously been the worst trade deal in the history of trade deals, maybe ever. And speaking of bad trade deals, let’s get this update rolling with the man, the myth, the legend, the husband who managed to make Komei look like a dreamboat in comparison..

..Wyatt fucking Union, née Monif. It’s been a long time, but I’m not gonna lie to you Wyatt, not nearly long enough. Looking good man, just one small question, where the fuck are your eyebrows?

-You àccidéntally deléted thém, imbécilé, et I cannôt exprèss my irritatiόn prόperly becausé I hàve non eyebrôws!

Did your selective French accent get thicker this past year or is it just me?

-It géts thickér whén je suis distrésséd, givé moi mon eyebrôws bàcc!!!

No can do, brother. Actually can do, but I think the Mona Lisa look is working for you, and more importantly I still hate you, so I’m just gonna hardcore ignore you for the rest of this post if that’s ok. Talk to me when you finally get promoted, aka never the way this shit is going.

-Non! NON! MON EYEBROWS!

It’s been lovely catching up.

Jojό I mean Jojo, goddammit Wyatt, is spending most of his time building robots in the mausoleum (sweet hipster band name alert)..

..giving financial advice in Shajar’s room (inb4 what’s the difference between the mausoleum and Shajar’s room)..

..building evil snowmen alone in the middle of the night, like all mentally healthy middle aged men with 3 kids are wont to do..

..and getting the piss harassed out of him by the cat ghosts in the bathroom (sweet hipster band name alert #2). How is this like the fourth time this happens in the exact same spot, will you just stop autonomously cleaning the bathroom after midnight? It’s obviously where the cats hang out, give it the fuck up already.

-I’m actively TRYING TO DIE you absolute moron, what does a guy have to do to get killed around here?

Yea can’t say that I blame you but not happening, you can commit suicide by Ghost Alegra after the kids fuck off to college, ok? I promise.

-Oh like you promised me being heir was a route worth pursuing??

Um obviously you too need to go back and re-read your own life story, because I spent the entirety of our “““cherished””” time together telling you heirship is a shitty gig at generation 2. And then to top it off you went and married Wyatt to ensure maximum shittiness, so there you go, fucking enjoy. God I am so sick of both of you losers and we’re only 5 pics in. Let’s check in with your spawn, I’m sure they can’t possibly be more annoying than their parents-

-oh right, I forgot, this is the generation with 10/10/9 active points where the party never stops. Cyneswith are you somehow twerking to classical music?

-How else am I gonna attract all those hot senior citizens per my grey hair turn on and 20 lovers LTW?

Ok great yea I see how this is gonna go, you’re trying to entice people into voting you for heir based on how torturous playing this fucked up LTW is gonna be for me, well forget it, my readers are intellectuals and completely above such petty entertainment. (istg mofos, don’t even think about it, i already did Komei’s 5 pets career shit, i will burn this place to the ground if you saddle me with Cyneswith banging the elderly for 30 years)

-No need to worry your stupid little head, I will beat Cyneswith for HEIR just like I beat her HAIR up daily! HAHA!

Shajar no offense but you’re a fucking war crime of a sim, nearly everyone who’s ever met you hates you including your parents, and the fact that you’re the alternative here is really not helping my situation in any way. Also how the fuck are you gonna be heir when the only thing you seem to be attracted to is giving noogies, you’re like one week away from college and I still don’t even know if you’re str8 or gay or bi or w/e the fuck you are. You have Jojo’s personality combined with..

..yes exactly, DANIEL’S SOCIAL ABILITIES. I mean I was joking with the whole ‘Shajar’s the spawn of Satan’ thing, but this combo of traits was clearly drawn up in Hell’s boardroom.

ANYWAY. It’s a snowy Sunday morning, and anyone who has been a teen knows what that means:

Time to go clubbing! Man I remember being like 15, waking up on a freezing Sunday morning and my mom making me a cup of hot chocolate before I drove off to the club. Those were the days.

-Uh, Shaj, when did you learn how to drive?

-Don’t be stupid, Cyneswith, people don’t need to ‘learn’ how to drive.

-They absolutely do, actually.

-Well what can I tell you, the dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural.

-Here we are, safe and sound! Celebratory noogie!

-YOU RAN OVER 9 PEOPLE

-How many times to I have to explain this to you, Apartment Life townies are not people.

Can’t argue with that logic. Let’s just go in and find out what Shajar’s sexual orientation is once and for all so I can spend the rest of this update aggressively promoting Wulf’s candidacy.

Now I consider ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ one of the dumbest sayings there is, but even I have to concede that this particular picture truly is worth a thousand words. Quick poll, what is more horrifying, Shajar’s literal Joker face or Cyneswith, whom I’ve never seen read a book ever, autonomously pulling one out in the middle of the dance floor, in what I can only assume is an attempt to attract old perverts with the schoolgirl routine?

And I know what some of you are thinking, you’re like ‘bro, you’re just reaching to make a bad joke bro, Cyneswith is just a sweet nice introvert and not like other girls, she doesn’t feel comfortable in the club’, well to that let me reply with another picture that is worth a thousand words:

Yea that’s right, on the first minute of our first time out WE RUN INTO THAT ONE ELDER TOWNIE THAT HAS WRINKLE MAKE UP ON. GODDAMMIT CYNESWITH

Do you guys remember how Jojo was obsessed with Stephen Tinker as a teen? Are you seeing the connection here?? Those kids have literally inherited the worst possible traits from both their parents turned up to 11, it’s fucking unreal.  

Right after I get over Wrinkle’s presence I turn around and what do I see, those 2, who have never had a non-noogie physical interaction, autonomously doing the family kiss thing. I didn’t even catch it on time because I was loling irl, we came out here so these assholes can find age-appropriate partners, and instead they’re kissing each other. Seems about right with this family, and clearly Striped Scarf’s dumb ass ships it.

-They look so much alike, it’s meant to be!

Yes, and they even share the same last name! Talk about written in the stars.

Thankfully Abhijeet is here to save us from incest by perving on Cyneswith. GTFO ABHIJEET. Anyone like ‘bro townies just autonomously come to greet your sims on community lots regardless of age, stop calling them perverts’, see you in about 5 pics down.  

I try to have Shajar chat up Striped Scarf and suffice it to say Shaj ~stole her heart~ and presumably put it on this stick to wave around.

NO. CYNESWITH NO. I’m seriously having déjà vu of all the times I was like ‘NO. JOJO NO’, jfc.

Shajar is unsurprisingly exhibiting no interest in socializing with anyone around her, instead she’s trying every activity this terribly lit place has to offer, and she looks demented while doing it:

I’m feeling a primal urge to photoshop Darth Vader’s melted helmet on the bowling ball here, someone please remind me to do it for the heir vote photoshoot.

-HA. SUCK IT DENISE JACQUET

That’s Denise Jacquet?! I can’t tell who anyone is for shit anymore. The default replacements are a scourge upon premade brands, I’m getting rid of them pronto. Speaking of scourges, where the hell is your sister?

-Who cares?

I wanna say ‘me’ but we both know that’s a lie.

Oh ok, THERE SHE IS.

-So you see Cyneswith, just because something is technically ‘illegal’, doesn’t mean it’s morally wrong-

Yea yea fascinating stuff, now get out of the hot tub or I will fucking neuter you, I don’t know if a eunuch mod already exists for medieval games but I will make one if it doesn’t.

Here, Cyneswith, drink some water, have a nice G-rated convo with your sister about violins and stop pissing me off. 

-First of all this is straight vodka.

Great.

-Secondly Shajar is talking about Mozart’s coprophilia.

-I sure am.

Amazing. Well, I guess it’s at times like these when you need to look inside your heart and truly ask yourself, what did you expect from Jojo’s children.

ABHIJEET ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME DID YOU EVEN HEAR ME TALK ABOUT CASTRATION

-Ha, I went home and put on my most elderly-looking formal wear!

-I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave Ab <3

CYNESWITH SHUT UP. I can’t believe you people are actually making me miss Gunther’s teenage whoring, at least he kept it age appropriate.

-Is some random lady pressing her breasts against my head?

She most certainly is, Shajar, because it is now crystal clear that this bowling alley doubles as the site of annual perv townie convention and we walked right into it-

-and it’s also clear we have serious issues and are enjoying ourselves. Shaj I legit don’t know what to tell you, this is the first time you get along with someone right away and it just had to be the adult with the bad haircut and the flasher’s trench coat???

-You’re damn right it did.

Alright then, I’m officially going to nope out of this situation, safe in the knowledge you’re a noogiesexual and nothing will actually happen with this freak, so I’ll focus on Cyneswith instead who is much more of a loose canon. 

Here Cyn, talk to this guy, who I’m 90% sure is the same guy your father rejected in favor of stalking Stephen Tinker when he was your age.

-Ohhhh, he’s dreamy!

Omg really?? Halleluj-

-oh never mind, you were of course referring to adult ass Brandon Lillard. I do like that our townies have recurring roles each generation, we should make rejecting Blondie a rite of passage in this family. We should also officially gtfo because this is happening:

-Um, now that I’m looking at you in harsher lighting, it’s gonna be a no from me dawg. 

Oh, thank the fucking lord.

-Let’s celebrate the fact we didn’t get hopelessly obsessed with any adults here by doing the traditional Dance of Normality!

-We beat Dad’s genes, we beat Dad’s genes!

-We’re normal!

Yes, and we’re definitely showing it. Can we please leave now so I can make sure I’ve uninstalled Inteenminator and turn off free will? 

-Nop! Venue change!

-Got-out-of-the-car celebratory noogie!

-Made-it-to-the-door celebratory noogie!

Shajar you unironically have a noogie addiction, I’m not kidding in the slightest, you need to see a doctor.

Great, great, not another teen in sight and to top it off Denise followed us here to ensure maximum elder presence. I feel comfortable officially declaring this day a complete waste of time.

God, the vintage pink dress and the pink alcohol combo is some straight up current era Taylor Swift nonsense. That’s it, we’re outta here, back home where no one is lurking, waiting to strike at us-

-SOPHIE NOOOOOOOOOOOO💔💔💔💔💔

-The Lord is my shepherd.

NO HE ISN’T EVERYONE KNOWS YOU CAN’T HERD CATS PLEASE DON’T DIE

-Nop, I’m over it. Goodbye heathens, it’s been nice, hope you don’t find your paradise. 

UGH SOPHIE, my beloved Westboro lunatic, the last gangsta generation 1 cat we had.. I can’t believe you’re gone and all I’m left with is stupid Goro and D’vorah who can’t even beat up the fucking dog. This is truly painful.

Yes, pets, I agree, Kaylynn is completely to blame for Sophie dying of old age. The time has now come to decide on a cat heir-

-and since Goro ran away like a little bitch after Sophie’s death despite the fact he didn’t even like her, he’s automatically disqualified and will be going off to live on Melody and Daniel’s farm once returned to us. Congratulations to D’vorah I guess, on being the least terrible of two terrible options. 

On the topic of terrible heir options, Cyn has non-stop wants to go on dates and have her first kiss and all that crap, and since our Sunday morning clubbing was a bust we invite over the matchmaker.

-Hello there young Union, I see your house has been upgraded since I was last here.

Oh right we haven’t required your services since Daniel was a teen and we lived in a trailer, well we are flush with cash now!

-Hopefully your payment reflects that.

It will!! Just please give us someone good, I can’t deal with single teen Cyn for one more second.

-Oh my, what a beautiful BLANK PIECE OF PAPER.

WHAT!? NO THAT’S 5K IT’S JUST A SNOW GLITCH 

-What do I look like to you, a money thawing service?

Does such a service.. exist??

-It does not, so I have to go home and use a hairdryer on this!

Just come inside and we’ll give you non-frozen money!

-No, no, you’ll get what you paid for..

-Have a magical time!

...

.........

......................

Lakshmi this was so fucking evil that I almost want to age you down and see if you and Shajar hit it off. 

-As if, the whole neighborhood knows what you did to Komei.

Helped him achieve his insane 6-pets-career LTW?

-Turned him into a servant while your sim was lounging around all day!

Oh yea I did do that. But Wyatt was also a townie and he does literally nothing, Jojo is the servant now!

-Only because Wyatt is too fucking stupid to do things! Word has gotten out, no townie will ever marry in this family again unless they’re brain dead, so it’s Wyatts only for you from now on, sister!

Well this has been a complete fucking disaster. It was great seeing you again, Lakshmi, thanks for the dream date with the adult farting machine, 5k well-spent.

Pretty sure it was you bro, and yes, how about we don’t do that again.

Wyatt has brought over Amanda from work! (Aka Victoria’s only friend and subsequent lesbian lover, who is really pretty and is definitely getting married in at some point, preferably after the brown hair genes have been weakened so we can go back to being gingers.)  

-Wow Shajar, your grandmother, God rest her soul, mentioned you were her favorite and now I can see why! Loving the Kylo Ren look!

-Is someone being genuinely nice to me?! What is happening?

-Yes, please stop being nice to her, Amanda, we don’t want her getting used to it.

Jojo istg.

-Cyneswith dear, tell Amanda all about how much money your grandmother left you so she can stop being nice to Shajar. 

-Soooo much money, Miss Amanda!

-Ah, what a polite child I’ve single-handedly raised.

-Now, Cyneswith, you really need to get back on the dating scene so you have ample time to find the perfect spouse and continue our line, since you’re clearly the only one of my children that is remotely heir material. 

-Dad, Shajar and Wulf are right next to you.

-Oh they are? I’m wearing my special contact lenses that make those disappointments invisible to me, but even better, they need to hear this. Shajar is a noogiesexual and thus incapable of reproduction, and Wulf is not even a Union, I mean have you seen that kid? Wyatt reproduced by himself like the amoeba he is. Now, your grandmother-

-YOU MENTIONED ME 3 TIMES AND HERE I AM

OH FUCK VICTORIA, deleting the default replacements gave you base game hair!!!!

-That’s the part you’re scared by, not my Beetlejuicesque entrance?

There’s literally nothing scarier than your ghost sporting this haircut for all eternity, I’m re-downloading that default immediately. 

-Oh mom, so good to see you! Let me just hug my beloved child, Shijer-

-Shajar, dad.

-SHAJAR, let me hug Shajar, like I do all the time. 

-I’m glad to see you’re not picking favorites among your children like I did, the way I treated David-

-Daniel, mom.

-DANIEL, is the one thing I’ve truly been regretting in the afterlife. That and not skinning Marisa Bendett alive when I had the chance. 

-Well, as you can see by Shajar’s totally normal and not at all shocked reaction to my hug, I am a wonderful, fair, and emotionally available father. 

(Bruh this freaked me out so much when it happened, I mean I KNOW it’s an animation glitch but I was convinced my sims had become sentient for a good while after)

-Is your grandmother’s ghost still on the premises?

-Yup. 

-When will this nightmare end, paying attention to you is the worst. 

-Ok she’s gone.

-FINALLY. Now it’s back to the crypt for you, and don’t you dare go complain to her urn!

-Ah, Stephen, Stephen, my life is crap and I can’t even🎵

And with the knowledge you have composed a theme song for Stephen Tinker, part 1 of the Union comeback update is concluded. Will Shajar’s sexual orientation reveal itself? Will Cyneswith find true love? Will Jojo become a werewolf? Will Wulf continue to be the only dignified member of this family? Will D’vorah have kittens? Will Wyatt do literally anything worth mentioning? Tune in for parts 2 & 3 to find out, unfollow button on the upper right corner for those who need it. 

[joshmcclenney]

Photo: “MONROE - award winning feature film Written & Directed by Josh McClenney”

Day 8: “Great Dayzie McSwazie”

Mood:

Excited

Actor:

I truly love studio lots. I had a fitting today at Sony for a shoot I have this week and it was great. The costumer was super cool. And it went fast and easy. I walked a little slower when I was leaving because I like to spend that extra time just being there. Silly huh. Well I appreciate every opportunity. Sent for some jobs today got an audition for tomorrow and a new batch of voice overs. I felt on top of it today.

Filmmaker:

Clay is looking fantastic! Even at this early stage before all the editing, the script is really gathering its voice. I’m so excited. I listened to the theory of everything soundtrack and really found my rhythm. Franklin is becoming a true multi dementional character. I’m still trying to find places for the claymation but, this draft is about getting it done. Not to edit. I’m close to my page count and I’m gonna sit and read it tomorrow in its entirety so I know that I can move to the next draft. Great writing day.

Final Thoughts:

The pages are turning and I’m living in a moment. I keep hearing a voice in my head say “enjoy this time” and I feel that means this next chapter of my life is really taking shape. And this struggle life is about to change. I think constantly about full time and what that requires and it is beginning to excite me more and more. I’ve come such a long way. I’ve removed unnecessary people. And I’m removing unnecessary situations. Today was a win. And as Keith Lee would say “Bask In My Glory”.

[bruhwhyth0]

WHY THO?

Jesus Christ I was really hoping I’d never have to do this again. I honestly don’t know what is worse, having to watch another shitty movie or rereading my old blog posts and realizing that they were lower in quality than the movies I was reviewing. Fortunately it doesn’t really matter because I know for a fact that my -2 followers don’t seem to mind. But here I am. Once again I must swallow my pride and sumit myself to literal torture all in the name of a grade. To my suprise choosing a crappy movie was almost as difficult as watching one. So many options. So much low hanging fruit. However movies of this nature can always be a mixed bag. I remember when I first started this blog a few years ago some reviews never left my drafts because I didn't have much to write about. Sometimes a movie is so mediocre, so bad, that it can’t even excel at being an awful pile of crap. I chose to write about bad movies because I figured it would be entertaining. You’d think some films, in their own demented way, could at least entertain. But no. Can’t even get that right. I’d find myself at 2’o’clock in the morning looking at my notes only to realize that I basically wrote nothing. All I had was a lingering sense of regret and confusion; like I’d just woken up from a drunken one night stand. All I could do is ask myself, “What the hell did I just watch?” So as I revisit this deserted island I call my blog for what most likely will be the last time, I want to make sure that it is worth it. If I’m going to verbally assault a movie, I’m going to make sure it is an easy target. That was my thought process at least. I soon realized that just because a movie is easy to write about, that doesn’t mean it is easy to watch.

So what movie did I force upon my soul do you ask? Why CATS of course. Because who doesn’t like Cats? Everyone loves cats. What’s not to love about an ungrateful and rude animal that walks around your house like it owns the place. An animal that bites, scratches, and claws at anything it deems unworthy. “Let's make a movie, based off the perverted 80s Broadway production that centered around these literal spawns of Satan,” said every Hollywood executive with their head up their ass. As a matter of fact they thought it was such a good idea that they dropped 95 million U.S. dollars on it.

Now before I continue, as I typed “cats budget” in my google search bar, take a guess what came up after “cats bu..”. CATS BUTTHOLE SMELL. Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell is wrong with people? I tried recreating it in the search bar to screenshot but I couldn’t get it to come up, but trust me. I know what I saw. What is it with cat people man? Seriously. Really threw me off my train of thought.

But yeah, 95 big ones. A lot of good things could have been done with that money, but nope. We needed a live action adaptation of Cats. Did anyone who thought this was a good idea even see the play? That shit was weird. I didn’t watch it, cause, well why the hell would I?

But from the bare minimum research that I did do, the general consensus was that it was a shitty play that made lots of money because people are dumb and will watch anything. I guess producers were hoping lightning would strike twice. If you saw the play you would know that there is literally no plot. It has nothing. It is literally a bunch of weirdos dressed like anthropomorphic cats dry humping each other and singing for 2 hours. I swear its target audience had to consist of lonely 12 years old, sad housewives, and perverts. I tried watching the musical just to get a general reference of the living hell I was going to put myself in only to be utterly mortified. My eyes and ears didn’t last 5 minutes. How it made all the money it did baffles me. But I’m not here to talk about this crime against humanity, I’m here to rip into its bastard child. And boy, oh boy, is there a lot to talk about.

$14.99 in and I’m already regretting my life choices. Everything in my life has led me to this moment and I really wish I could change that. Thanks to what a box office bomb this movie was, I can’t rent it anywhere. I can only buy it. Figures. You're already off to a bad start movie. 2 minutes into the opening scene and I already hate it. People walking around on all fours in fursuits, licking their genitals, singing dancing, some crappy asymmetric musical. WHY! Oh god why did people make this? What kind of furry bullshit is this? I am going to be completely transparent. I’m writing this while I’m watching the movie. I’m not even 5 minutes in and I want to blow my brains out. This is not hyperbole, I wish it was. I can’t dude. I can’t watch this fucking movie. All the characters speak in these weird haikus with British accents. I can’t. I just can’t. I don’t know what anyone is saying half the freaking time. So many made up words and phrases. It's like the script was written by some Dr. Suess rejected. I genuinely have no idea what is going on. I was really hoping that for once one of my reviews wouldn’t sound like the rantings of a madman. But I can’t help it. This crap is rotting my brain. Seriously what is going on. Maybe I’m a simpleton who doesn’t get musicals, but I shit you not there is no plot. I have no idea what the hell is going on. How do you have a movie with no plot?

It’s just singing about being cats... and their FEET. JESUS CHRIST THEY HAVE FEET. No CGI paws. BARE. HUMAN. FEET. God why. How as an actor, do you go on set, act like a literal animal and tell yourself, “yeah this is gonna pan out great.” How did they sit down and go, “I’m going to sit here, lick a fake bowl of milk, sing and dance nonsense, then proceed to lick my non-existent cat balls.” I literally watched an actor snarl directly into the camera. When I went to find out who it was, I was unsurprised to see that all the pictures of the actors were gone. Just names. With a little digging I found out it was Ian Mckellen, you know, from Lord of the Rings. Magneto from Xmen. That Ian Mckellen. Yup, and he snarled to the camera like a cat. Anything for a paycheck right? Who am I to judge, I watched 2019’s Cats for an English class. Who is really losing here, cause frankly I don’t know anymore. If I have anything positive to say about this movie is that it has less dry humping than its source material. Key word less. I better get an A for this.

An hour into the movie and I still don’t know what the fuck is going on. Some dude in overalls is tap dancing. He's a “railway cat” cause he's a conductor or something. I physically cannot do this. I'm dying on the inside. A light inside me is slowly fading. Countless abhorrent musical numbers. Too many for a man to take. To put things in perspective, I did not like Hamilton. Did I respect it for what it was? Of course. Not my cup of tea though. Hamilton was a great musical, arguably one of the best, and I did not enjoy it whatsoever. Now here I am watching Cats. Just a little perspective.

As I came to the end of the movie I saw that I missed all kinds of things. There was a love plot, some kind of contest, and villain. But that didn’t concern me. All I could focus on was how I wasted an hour and a half of my life. 

An hour and a half wasted on this.

Do you think God left us because he feared what he created? I sure as hell do. The philosophers were right. Everyday Pantheism is making more and more sense. And if not that nihilism. God is dead. God is most certainly dead. Don’t believe me? The GIF above is all the proof you need.

I was hoping that for once one of these blogs would have some sense of conformity. Some sort of cohesion. Maybe an ounce of legitimacy. But I couldn’t. There is something about these movies that drain the life from you. Every second spent looking at my computer screen I felt brain cells dying. I might as well have drunk a whole 750 milliliter bottle of Everclear. That or bang my head against a wall for 15 minutes. Either would have been just as effective; and probably more efficient.

I thought that I could improve upon the quality of my blog. When I reread my old post I realized that they had no depth. I thought maybe it was me. Right? I was 15, What did I know about good writing? No. It never had anything to do with me. Movies like Cats are such horrendous abominations of human creation, that there is literally no way to talk about them with any form of professional effort. They are shallow. There is nothing to analyze. How can you analyze garbage? Art requires respect if it wants to be reviewed and judged accordingly. Cats and films like it don’t have my respect and never will. I type this with immense pleasure. Never again. Never will I ever put myself through this bull again. Thankfully, for the last time. I can ask Why Tho?

[lilacnothlit]

This is an announcement to @villainous-queer​ that you made me start playing with onlinesequencer.net.

Some of these themes I held off on because of the inherent lack of dynamic range in these midis, I’ll wait until I can record them on piano or cello. But Applegate has often gone on record of her love of Bach, so I should hope these more baroque compositions would get her thumbs up.

First, have Jake’s Basketball/Strategy motif: https://onlinesequencer.net/1816683 It starts during the basketball tryouts, but gradually Jake takes charge of it as he learns to lead. It contrasts with Visser Three’s Solution motif: https://onlinesequencer.net/1817999 That one plays when the Visser gets a Terrible, Awful idea. These rhythmic underscore the battles they command and tell you who has the upper hand, and sometimes they get transposed, like the army of Taxxons Visser Three orders to the chase in my script of episode ten - The Taxxons’ motif, a hardscrabble treble percussion, rides on top as the Visser’s rhythm switches to an electric guitar riff.

Tobias’ “Loneliness” motif, these eight notes were one of the first things I wrote. These midi controls obviously don’t have an option for just temperament, much less the microtones I wanted to write the Yeerk music in. You can hear it in action, underpinning this transcription I made of the soundtrack to the first anxiety attack he has while conversing with his hawk instincts. https://onlinesequencer.net/1816711 Lots of Bach in this.

Elfangor’s little Studio Ghibli farewell that underscores the gang running and him telling Tobias to run as well - https://onlinesequencer.net/1817875 - is a very demented version of an aria from “Madama Butterfly” in tritones. This guy in the opera is calling himself a cad for returning to the navy and leaving behind his pregnant wife, when he comes back and learns she’s been faithful to him and decorated the house and everything. I underscore a lot of him with this character’s arias. (”Dovunque Al Mondo / il Yankee Vagabondo” is his recurring theme.) This was meant to sound like a grieving lullaby written by an alien and I hope it came across. (The Ghibli aesthetic isn’t half as bad here as the harp etude I wrote for Chapman’s crumpled plea to Esplin. I think I’m gonna make that the Concerned Parent mood.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySdwrEQLcSQ

As an illustration for how these motifs are more ideas than discrete musical phrases: The motif for being “Caged” is made of a 3/4 rhythm, a steady pulse of treble percussion hammering away at the top, and a churning set of stop-start semitones underneath. Compare Tobias’ anxiety attack from his terrible childhood memories https://onlinesequencer.net/1817867 , the anxious pizzicato that underscores Jake and Rachel’s mission to retrieve stuff from his apartment https://onlinesequencer.net/1817987 , the way it turns into a lumbering threat when his uncle appears https://onlinesequencer.net/1817994 , the listless futility of hosts struggling against their cages in the yeerk pool https://onlinesequencer.net/1817980 , and the tasteless black midi garbage fire panic attack that is the attempt to rescue hosts from the burning wreckage of their cages https://onlinesequencer.net/1817909 . These are all first drafts and the first time I’m using the software; I’d appreciate any advice for help crafting soulful sustain or dynamics with it. But you can hear how they all come back to that first idea.

And the Wagner piece that Tobias’ flight was set to:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqcUQ4tmQ0g&t=6m

I desperately have to make an animatic of that scene.

I’m so jazzed you guys like this pitch, and are down with me still building it.

So here's one. Not Animorphs vs HP or the Gaang, but Animorphs (books) vs Animorphs(TV)

That is completely horrifying, because book-Animorphs would ANNIHILATE the AniTV-Animorphs in, like, 30 seconds flat.

So...

AniTV-Animorphs Advantages

Mindfuckery.  AniTV-Jake’s greatest weapon is the Deeply Uncomfortable Stare.  This is a boy unafraid to gaze directly at you for 30+ seconds, sometimes while also sensuously eating snails.   Whether this would work on book-Animorphs is questionable, but it’s definitely something.

The Interwebs.  Marco and Ax both pull off some impressive feats (hacking the yeerk mainframe, reprogramming a rental card into a skeleton key, taking control of NBC) just by typing really fast and/or rubbing a Blockbuster card on Ax’s nipples.  The tech battle is theirs.

Lack of ethical boundaries.  I know it’s surprising I’m rolling this up under super-silly AniTV, but the show’s light tone comes at the expense of the kids actually considering the consequences of their actions.  AniTV-Animorphs dump oatmeal in the yeerk pool without thinking twice, morph humans at the drop of a hat, tell jokes while collapsing the yeerk pool and killing several dozen prisoners, and discuss morphing yeerks to forcibly control others’ bodies.  Jake tries to kill Tom at least three times, and once he’s laughing while he does it.  At one point they celebrate the discovery that the war is ongoing through having a group hug.  These kids are the Howlers of their own universe, cheerfully “playing” the “game” of slaughtering their defenseless enemies.

AniTV-Animorphs Disadvantages

Number of morphs.  The kids have only 3 - 4 morphs apiece, and many of those are of questionable utility (butterfly, iguana).  The book team has 50+ morphs apiece by the end of the series.

Strength of morphs.  The Gardens doesn’t appear to exist in this universe, which helps to explain why Jake’s tiger and Rachel’s lion are the only battle morphs we ever see.  Cassie uses horse, Ax uses skunk, Marco uses dog, and Tobias doesn’t really morph.  If they’re up against five mega-predators and an andalite, they don’t stand a chance.

Team dynamics.  With few exceptions, the whole team never goes on missions together.  They do things in groups of two or three, and rarely work together as a group of six.

Pointless romcom bullshit.  There are several instances where the kids on this team just... don’t share crucial information for no reason.  Cassie spends 80% of an episode lying about morph allergies.  Jake’s willing to risk death to avoid admitting he likes Cassie.  Ax builds and hides an entire working spaceship.  Tobias conceals tons of intel (his group of ex-hosts, his morphing ability, Elfangor’s hirac dilest) from the team until forced to disclose it.  None of these decisions is ever explained in context, outside of Plot Tension around when the kids will or won’t Find Out The Thing.  Not a good sign for team coherence.

Book-Animorphs Advantages

Combat experience.  They actually fight controllers on a fairly regular basis, whereas their TV counterparts mostly just growl from a distance.

Civilian identities.  Thank goodness for book-Marco, who keeps the kids from being too obviously a team when they’re in civilian spaces.  It means their secret identities can survive far closer calls.

Versatility and variety of morphs.  They’ve got water, flying, ground, psychic, bug, fighting, ice, dark, grass, and poison morphs.  All they need is ghost, dragon, and fairy.  Almost regardless of the setting, they’re more likely to have a well-suited morph than the AniTV kids do.

Andalite dexterity and skill.  Ax jumps 10 vertical feet and 30 horizontal feet, backward in heels, in #21.  His tail is powerful enough and sharp enough to behead a human with a single strike in MM3.  He is impossible to sneak up upon because of his constant all-directions-at-once vision.  AniTV Ax is just a human with blue fur and blinky horns who at one point gets defeated by a human-controller with a lasso.

Level grinding.  These kids go on more missions, harder missions, more varied missions, and missions against much scarier enemies than AniTV kids do.  Along the way they rack up far more skills and greater morphing experience.

Allies.  Toby and her hork-bajir exist in this universe, as does Afran and the Yeerk Peace Movement.  Plus, book-Erek is a lot more ruthless and violent than show-Erek ever becomes.

Book-Animorphs Disadvantages

Mostly just the fact that they make an effort not to kill humans if they can help it.  Which is more than their TV counterparts can say.

[riyuyami]

A fanfic based on an au of an au of an au, haha.

So I mentioned before that I had an idea based on this idea, where during his travels, Yugi comes across the real Yami, and they join forces. Well, in this spinoff of that idea, crazy shit happens to Yugi and things don’t look well for him or Yami.

So yeah, ink demon!Yugi! :D

Summery: Sometimes you just gotta literally fuse with the man you hate so much in order to kill your doppelgänger.

Warning: body horror, written in detail, lots of… painful sounding events, though are rather short, still, reader discretion is advice

On with the fic!

--

Yugi had lost sight of Yami when they had been swarmed by black dragons and searchers, the little Toon had run to safety, but Yugi hadn’t seen which direction he went into. Gods above, he hoped his friend was safe somewhere. He would call out to Yami, but he needed to keep quiet, it’s been a while since he’s heard whistling and skittering in the pipes…

He quietly walked through the halls, being as careful as possible to not make too much noise, he even avoided stepping in ink puddles to keep from leaving shoe prints. But even with all of his careful efforts, he was spotted.

The walls around him suddenly grew dark with trails of ink, spreading along the old wood. There was shuffling from down the hall, of someone who had a twisted foot. Heavy breathing through clenched teeth sent shivers down Yugi’s spine, and he knew he was screwed, since the hallway he entered led only to a dead end and two locked doors…

Nervously, Yugi turned, holding his axe as he saw the monstrous copy of Yami come around the corner. It turned its head in the direction Yugi was in, and the man swore that fucking grin got bigger.

Your little axe won’t do anything to me, Yugi… “Yami” hissed through those damn teeth and Yugi took a step back. I see you’re alone…

Yugi narrowed his eyes. “He’s safely hidden somewhere you’ll never find him.” He sure hoped so…

“Yami” laughed loudly, with his strange, distorted voice, it sounded like he was laughing into a metal can, and it hurt Yugi’s ears, but at least he wasn’t screaming. I’ll find him, I always find you two. He took a step forward with his good foot, the other one dragging behind him.

“It’s wrong that you can talk…” Shortly after escaping from “Lady” and her demented desires for beauty and perfection, Yugi had found out from a nasty encounter (where he had almost died, luckily “Lady’s” screams from somewhere worked as a distraction and Yugi had escaped) that “Yami” could speak.

Though at the time, all he said was Yugi’s name, but it looks like his vocabulary has improved. Probably from the pendant around his neck, so much like Yami’s own, but so different. He knew Yami could use his, had seen him turn it into a sword and a shield already, but Yugi had always thought that “Yami’s” was a by-product of his creation.

Looks like it might have some powers to it, but this is all just speculation.

I rather like it… The monster grinned still. It’s nice to speak again…

This caught Yugi by surprise, again? Wait, could this bastard talk in the past?! “What are you talking about?” He gasped when he was shoved hard into the wall, shit! He moved so fast!

A wet, inky hand was pressed against his throat, choking him. Yugi struggled, trying swing his axe, but it was slapped out of his hand by the smaller hand “Yami” possessed. You always did ask too many questions, little Yugi…

Orchid eyes widened, wait, when was the last time he was ever called ‘little Yugi’? No… no, it couldn’t be… maybe the monster had overheard him being called that? This couldn’t be what happened to him, oh God…

“Yami” chuckled, pressing a little tighter, making Yugi wheeze painfully. I’ve been thinking… it’s rather hard to catch that little rough draft of a double, he’s eluded me for so long… he’s scared, but he’s stubborn, just like how you made him…

The monster leaned in closer, Yugi could smell the strong scent of rubber ink coming from the monster. He’s difficult to fight and catch, always was in the show… but there was always a strong weakness to him, that would make him break…

The grin was painfully wide. His friends are his biggest weakness…

“No…” Yugi gasped, was the monster going to use him as bait or something?

His dear bird is in a terrible battle with herself, and his mutt is probably dead for good this time… so all that remains is you, Yugi, and you’re perfect… he only has you left, and he’ll do anything to keep you safe, right..?

Yugi started to feel faint as his throat was squeezed tighter.

I think the best way to destroy him… is to make you mine… and have you kill him… an ironic situation, the first to betray me will kill the last to do so... hold still, this is going to hurt a lot…!

Before the animator could react properly to what he heard, his eyes widened in pure horror when “Yami’s” mouth snapped open, revealing terribly, sharp, misshapen teeth. It let out a horrible scream, the vertigo came back tenfold, enough to make Yugi gag as his body reacted terribly to the sound.

The hand released him and Yugi dropped, slumped on the floor, gasping loudly as his body tremored, his ears ringing, his vision a mess. But he still saw “Yami” get down on the floor, pulling him up to his knees. Yugi felt wet, ice cold things touch him, and it took him seconds to realize it was ink, coming from “Yami” as it did on the walls when the monster walked.

It felt horrible, like leeches, especially since it felt like it was biting into his skin. He hissed, trying to pull away from the tightening hold, before a surge of burning hot pain erupted from his shoulder. The Ink Demon had bit down right onto his right shoulder, digging his teeth in hard. Blood mixed with ink as Yugi sat there, frozen from the pain and cold sensations on his skin, staring at the slowly melting creator.

He felt sick, he felt things piercings into his skin from the bite, as if the ink was entering him through the multiple holes produced from the beast’s teeth. The tendrils of ink covered his right arm, and Yugi knew he had to get this thing off, before it did whatever it planned to do to him!

Weakly, Yugi struggled to get his axe, pleased that he was able to grab a hold of it, but his arm felt like it was on fire again as the skin started to bulge. Ink began to pour out of the pores and he screamed, both in fear and in pain.

“Yami”, though smaller now that his ink was in going into Yugi, managed to lift him to his feet, slamming him into a wall. More of the monster was pumped into Yugi, causing more changes, painful changes. If it was going to control Yugi, it might as well make him suffer what it suffered.

Yugi screamed in horribly pain as his left arm felt like it was being twisted wrong, like someone was gonna break it. The pain doubled, and he let out a choked sound when his right foot cracked, snapping backwards, just like how “Yami’s” foot was.

He almost vomited from the pain as more ink came out of him, falling from his hairline, streaking down his face in black lines.

It only took ten or so minutes of agonizing suffering and pain, but it felt like hours to Yugi as the world began to go black and he felt like he was falling.

The body collapsed on the hard, wooden floor, laying there in a puddle of ink. “Yami” was no longer standing there, it was gone, but Yugi remained.

Well…

It wasn’t really gone, it just found a new mode of transportation…

“Hehehehe…” Shifting, the body began to rise, getting to its mix-match feet. It bent down, picking up the pendant that had fallen to the ground during the body modification process.

Yugi… well, what could only be presumed to be ‘Yugi’ looked like a mess. His hair was full of ink, as his face was covered in it, except his left eye was exposed, black in the white, with a small, orchid dot glancing around.

The left arm was twisted wrong, as if someone broke it, just like the right foot. He was covered in spots and streaks of ink, his right arm completely soaked in thick, lumpy ink. What could be assumed to be his hand was wrapped tightly the axe still, soaked in the black liquid.

A shaky, toothy grin pulled at his lips as he stumbled, trying to get his bearings. He laughed as he leaned against a wall, feeling a struggling inside of him. “Oh… try as you might to gain control, little Yugi, you are in for the ride. I hope you don’t mind, but I feel that using our flesh suit is the most perfect way to destroy that treacherous doppelgänger.”

He let out a sharp, harsh laugh, ink and blood dripping out of his mouth as he coughed, limping his way out of the hall to find the little Toon.

Unknown to the creature, Yami was very close, so close that he had seen everything through a ventilation shaft grate.

TBC?

--

I dunno if there is gonna be a part two, but there might be if people want one.

Sorry, this could have been better, but I’m tired, and wanted to get this idea written before I forgot it.

It’s funny, this goes against my normal headcanon that the monster really is the little Toon, but I’m also a fan of the idea that the monster is actually a corrupted human, so in this? Yami is his own character and “Yami” is a ink demon/human hybrid (its Kaiba btw)

[sassasquashedgrapes]

Deep Love: Close to Ending and the Shorts

Hello Everyone! I sure hope you enjoyed Deep Love.  If anyone think it sounds like something out of a terrible porn, it isn’t.  It’s actually based from a song of an English trip hop duo called Mandalay.  The song was an inspiration for the album, Instinct.  Go give it a try on Spotify when you can, it’s a lovely song.

So again, just to remind everyone, I wasn’t really able to come up with a final finale for this story.  Most stories I’ve written are usually in drafts and it takes me a long while to come around to end it.  I guess you can say I do have that challenge, I’m pretty sure every writer comes across that.  But ever since I took to heart the 5 Second Rule, a self-help motivational guide by Mel Robbins, I decided what the heck.  I’m just gonna publish all my stuff on Tumblr and hope maybe someday, someone would pick this little humble blog up and love reading the stories the same way I wrote them so many years before.  Truth be told, I must have written tons of stories.  Short ones, long ones, all of which are either half-baked, or finished drafts.  I had recently made myself a commitment I was gonna post my stuff no excuses.  

So again, just read along!  Thanks so much for making time for this lengthy reads and I hope to see y’all again soon.

* **

 “So how does it feel to be the only female to have both Hargreave men chasing you?  And who’s the leading contender?”

 We were in the middle of dinner at Breadsticks when Chelsea had popped that question.  She was perching with her chin on her fists as she innocently asked me before I could take a bite off my salad.  I could swear I heard their grandmother, Constance Hargreave gasp.  Neil turns his head and glares at his stepsister while Iain though nonplussed appears to be mildly intrigued.  I’m so glad that my mother didn’t decide to join us as she had a late prayer meeting with her friends at church because I just wanted to die right now.

 Instead, I feign ignorance and pretend that I misunderstood what the irrepressible pre-teen just said.  I blink and purse my lips as I say “I’m sorry?”

 “Chelsea,” Neil warns as he starts to intervene but changes his mind when Chelsea quickly adds.  “Are you immune to their good looks and their wealth?  Or were you just playing hard to get?  Stop looking at me like you’re going to kill me, Iain because you’re not going to and it’s no secret that we’re rich.  The jig is up.  Besides, Quinn’s probably known that the minute she’s met you.”

 Mortified, I look at Iain who turns to me expectantly.  His facial reaction is contained, but I can tell from his body language that he wants to hear what I have to say, I swallow and lick my lips nervously.

  “I know I’ve got this in the bag.”  Neil turns and winks conspiratorially at me and I can hear Iain harrumph surly in response.

 The entire conversation was so outrageous that I end up doubling over in laughter.  I never laugh when I’m nervous and this has got to be the first time I’ve done so.  I cover my face with my hands and lean back and let the nervous giddiness take hold.  I laugh so hard that everyone in the table also start to laugh along that when I do come out with my explanation, the expressions on their faces makes me want to laugh again.  

 “Seriously, Quinn.  What would it take for a man to impress you?” Neil prods, because he’s fascinated by this debacle.

 “I---I----I--- don’t know.”  I breathed in the middle of the peals as I take a peek at both brothers’ astonished looks as they turn to each other and exchange frowns.  Seeing their reaction just makes me double more in the hilarity of this absurd situation and I continue to giggle in mirth. Neil starts grinning in amusement as if in truce and Iain’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

 “Mention jewelry.” Constance promptly advises as if wanting to be a part of the conversation.  “A diamond bracelet would be a good gesture.”

 That incredible suggestion just pulled me over the edge that when I thought I’d stop laughing, I start bursting out another round. “I-i-is that what wealthy New York socialites do?” I manage to say between the fits.  No longer did I feel self-conscious, I lift my gaze to Iain as he’s been remarkably silent throughout this whole scene.  “What would you do if I ….I asked you for a diamond bracelet?”

Iain smiles at me, his eyes gleaming wickedly.  He’s regarding me closely, slowly taking in the flushed appearance of my cheeks as I take in how his dark, almost black hair glints like raven and ebony silk under the recessed halogens of the dimly lit restaurant. His bright blue eyes are shining with amusement and something else that makes my heart do double flips and starts to pound overtime as those blue orbs darken and a lock of his hair tumbles carelessly against his forehead as if for added effect.  He doesn’t breathe a word to answer, but I know exactly what he’s thinking which makes me stop laughing as I stare boldly at his scrutiny then when I remember that we’re not alone, I gaze downward as if to hide my eyes.

 “On second thought,” Constance amends as she correctly interprets Iain’s thoughts.  “Forget the bracelet, dear. Go straight for a diamond necklace.”

 “Well now we know who won,” Chelsea murmurs.  “At this rate, Quinn could probably ask for the whole set.”  She turns and looks at her stepbrother sympathetically and clucks her tongue.  “Sorry Neil.”

 “You’re the one who’s going to be sorry when I smack your butt with this.” Neil growls as he warningly lifts his hand.  But we all know it’s a ruse and Chelsea doesn’t seem affected in the least.

 Time passes very quickly after that.  By the time the bill was set up and the plates were cleared, I felt closer to the Hargreaves thanks to Chelsea.  With democratic impartiality, the little outspoken girl had switched her attention from me and aimed her series of impertinent comments to her grandmother’s alcohol addiction and then at her brothers.  No one was spared at the end of the meal that Chelsea’s victims had bonded in shared helplessness, sympathy, and hopeless laughter.

 Judging from Iain’s knowing and sympathetic grin, I’d come to assume that he had lived a life of elegant leisure far above the stress of ordinary humanity apart from the melodrama that occurred between his parents. I knew he had once mentioned that he had a sister who was a ‘pain in the ass’, but the realization that he had to ‘endure’ the whims of a precocious child made him now seem very human and likable. Chelsea gave her grandmother absolutely no mercy and Constance generally let her get away with it.  I notice with trepidation that the young girl might be right about their grandmother’s fondness for liquor as I notice that she’s already down on her fifth bottle of champagne.

   Iain, on the other hand, had limits at Chelsea’s jibes which mostly involved his work. He ignores Chelsea’s jokes about his personal life and the women whom he’d allegedly been involved, most of which are familiar names of starlets and models, other than his longtime girlfriend Lily who sounds like a cross between a demented version of Santana and Baby Jane Hudson.  When Chelsea gets to remake about his business and work, Iain’s jaw tightens and his voice turns ominous as he says “I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” which she surprisingly stops in midsentence and does not “go there.”

 The car ride home took less than fifteen minutes.  Because Neil now is under the custody of Constance, since she was named as the next of kin by their father he was now living with them and was staying at the Presidential suite of the Courtyard Marriott. Anton is acting as their chauffer and it’s amazing that they managed to hire a full scale limousine at such short notice.  Iain still chooses to stay with me until my mother comes home so we’re dropped off in front of our house.  I say my goodbyes and thank Constance for the meal and reserve my smile at Chelsea and say, “Thank you for the making me feel like a member of your family.”

For once, the girl was at a loss for words as I hear Iain murmur goodnight to everyone as he gently takes my elbow as we stroll side by side towards the front door in silence.  Great, just when I thought I’d gotten used to Iain now that I know more about him and his family, I wouldn’t feel as unease as ever. I realize that Iain just about feels the same awkwardness and I break our weird interlude.

“That was interesting.  Chelsea’s a riot.”

 “You were the only interesting topic,” Iain smiles as he corrects me which strikes me as something significant.  I blush in spite of myself and he quickly adds.  “She also went beyond exercising her usual modicum of restraint to make you feel at ease.”

 I turn my head to look at him to deny it but the minute I look into his eyes, I knew I could never lie to him.  “You’re right.” I admit feebly.  He relaxes his stance a little and shoves his hands in his pocket and looks at me in silence.  

 “Is it because of me?  Or does my family intimidate you?”

 Since the day I’ve met Iain, all plans of trying to flirt with him have flown out the window because I knew that I couldn’t bullshit my way around him.  It was like he has this unnerving ability to read my own thoughts and actions because they mirror his own.  I have lately come to realize that I can also read through his own actions and right now though he looks as cool as a cucumber, I understand that he’s also wary that I would think differently of him because of his social status and money. In fact, that would have also been true but seeing how gentle and patient he was in front of his sister and seeing the easy camaraderie he shared with Neil had made me change my mind about him being too capricious and cold.  I’ve given up with playing games and for once, I try honesty instead.

 “Just you,” I say lamely averting my eyes from his direct gaze.

 “Why? Do you find me intimidating?” “Yes and because you aren’t like most guys I’ve ever met.”

 Iain regards this in silence and nods.  He knows he’s nothing like the boys I used to date. It’s the darn truth and I look at him and can see that he seems relieved by this admission for some unfathomable reason.

 “That’s right, I’m nothing like Frankenteen and that Mohawk punk. And don’t you even dare compare me to that Ken doll.”

 My eyes fly to his face and he looks to be smirking, as if amused by what he’s just said.

 “Fact is, I like you Quinn. More than I really should.  One of the things that I like most about you is that you are actually refreshingly open and honest especially when you’re alone with me.  You don’t say it verbally as you could, but I can tell from your actions anyway. Unlike the rest of the world who sees you as the untouchable Queen Bee, I see something else.  You and I aren’t that different from each other which is why I get you more than anyone else you’ve met.”

 I don’t answer him because I know it’s true.  In the distance I can hear crickets chirping and watch as a lone firefly make its way doing rounds in the lawn.  I bring my arms closer towards me, utter grateful that Iain had lent me his jacket as the added warmth helps tremendously with the pressure.  I stop and unconsciously rub my chin against the softness of his wool jacket, taking in the scent of Iain that’s mixed with Bergamot and sandalwood from his expensive bodywash.

 “So was Chelsea right about you being attracted to me?” He asked bluntly.

 I look at him sharply because he already knows the answer. I was about to retort a sarcastic question but stop myself in time and bite my lip in response as I play with the gold cross pendant around my neck.  

 “Yes.”

 “And?”

“What else do you want to hear, Iain?” I ask irritably.

 “I just want to know why you’ve been avoiding me.  The last few days, you’ve spent more time with Neil than you’ve bothered with me and I want to know why.”

 “Maybe you should try analyzing everything that’s transpired this evening,” I suggest my eyes blazing in anger.  God, I hate playing this honesty card with him.  It’s so frustrating.  I’m tired of this one-sided approach so I ask him the same question earlier just as bluntly.

 “Do you find me attractive?”

 He looks at me as if I’ve lost my marbles.  I should be insulted for it’s not a reaction I expect, but then again, because I know him too well I already know the answer to my question and as to why he’s looking at me in a way that’s telling me is that he can’t believe that I can’t see what he does.  

 He shifts his gaze from my blonde hair, marveling at its softness and slowly makes his gaze down my face as if memorizing each plane and imprinting it as it were the only thing he needed to do in order to survive before it settles on my lips and my breath hitches as I watch his eyes darken.  He then moves on to stare into my eyes and we look at each other squarely in silence.  My heart is pounding like crazy, my blood is coursing through my veins in a pool of anticipation over something I can’t even begin to describe as I mirror the exact same desire he’s feeling.  My attention is drawn to his beautiful mouth that I so desperately want him to come closer to touch me and kiss me senseless, but he doesn’t.  Iain stays where he is, even though I could tell that he’s restraining himself because he’s breathing harder than usual and there’s tension radiating from those broad muscular shoulders.  I get this feeling that he thinks he’s doing this for my benefit, because if he doesn’t he may not be able to control himself.

   “I think you’re so stunningly beautiful that you take my breath away every time I look at you.” He breathes softly, it sounds almost like a whisper.

 “But why do you act like you don’t?” I wring my hands to keep them from throwing myself towards pulling my hair out or maybe from his but because Iain’s taller than me, it would just seem awkward for me to overreach. Not that I wouldn’t dare try, but I swear this boy is trying my patience.   You’d think I’d get all addle patted after his declaration of what I think is the most beautifully thrilling lines a man could ever say, but right now I’m desperate for some action!  

 “Because I’m not the man for you Quinn,” Iain explains sadly. I stare at him stunned by his confession.  This entire evening has now done a complete 360 turn.  Whoa, Iain thinks he doesn’t deserve me?  What in the world does he mean?

 “Is it because I’m too young for you?” “No,” he shakes his head as he gives me a lopsided smile as he laughs sardonically.  “I don’t even get why your parents have entrusted me to you as your legal guardian since you’re already of legal age in some states and a few European countries.”

 “Then what is it?”

 Iain runs his hand through his beautiful long, dark hair and musses it up.  “I’m a fucked up individual that’s why.  You already know what went down with my parents, their crazy divorce and drama that’s suitable for a day time soap plot.  My Aunt Luna is a crazy megalomaniac; Constance is just as messed that she drinks herself into a stupor so she could feel numb because she’s never gotten over my grandfather’s death and can’t stand up against my great-grandmother who terrifies her.  I hope to God Neil doesn’t end up as jaded as me.”

 I stare at him wordlessly, my mind reeling in disbelief.

“So you’re saying that you think that you don’t deserve me?”

 “I can’t give you what you need,” he says cryptically.  He can’t be serious, I think but judging by the look on his face, he’s absolutely convinced.  I’m about to give my own rebuttal but he continues on as if I’m allowed to speak my own mind.

 “You’re a nice girl.  Underneath that Ice Princess exterior, you’re warm, passionate, and so full of life.   Despite everything you’ve been through, whatever drama you want to conjure to others because you want to keep up that image of yours, I know that you’ll want to someday settle down and have a few kids of your own you’d like to send to Yale someday. Am I right?”

“Well, I do plan to get married someday and if my kids want to go to Yale, that’s fine too.  They can also go to Harvard if they want to, I won’t stop them either.”

 “I don’t think I can be able to give you that kind of commitment you deserve.  I’d make a horrible parent and a terrible husband like my father.  I’m not the family man type.”

 I could tell the note of bitterness from his words which made me tilt my head to look at him as my brows furrow at his words. The pieces were all slowly falling together.  Iain was afraid that he’d share the same tragic fate as his parents did and was so convinced by it that he was pushing me away.  He’s not so much different from me as I do a lot of self-destructive things in order to hurt and push the people I’ve cared about away. Sadly, it worked for most of those people but I wanted to convince myself and to Iain that I wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m sure you’d make a wonderful father,” I say with all honesty.  The sad truth of it all was though he was convinced he wasn’t genetically capable of caring for anyone other than himself, I know in my heart that he was because....well, I just know, okay?  

  Unfortunately, my time with Iain was limited and that in the next day, he was going to take that flight to New York with Neil in tow and that would be the last I would ever see and hear from him again.  I had my whole life ahead of me at Yale and being in a relationship with Iain was almost impossible.  What did you expect? My subconscious snorts as she plants her hands on her hips and clucks sadly in this ‘I told you so’ look on her face.  He was going to visit you every day while he’s busy doing whatever it is in New York?  Not to mention after all those string of affairs with models, starlets, yoga instructors, and pole dancers he’d want to settle with a small town girl who got knocked up by a guy who wasn’t her boyfriend?  Did you really expect he was going to fall in love with you like you do?

 Wait.  Hang on a sec.  

 I’m in love with Iain?

Oh. Dear. God.

 This realization is just getting more and more depressing. Iain is silent as if he’s trying to figure me out and I’m pallid with the revelation of this breaking news. How like me to fall in love with someone who’s leaving the next day?  Until then, I planned to enjoy whatever time was left with him.  Even the sad minutes like this.  There was so much I wanted to tell him, about his strange family dynamic but I didn’t know where to begin of if he was willing to even hear out what I had to say.  Instead I hang on the last possible self-control from stopping myself from sobbing all over him.

 “I really wish things could be different,” Iain says softly as he opens the door.  I know it’s hard for him to say that he’s sorry and judging from that too-handsome-for-his-own-good/sexy demigod face that’s full of sorrow I nod at his half-given apology.

 “Good night, Iain.” I say weakly as I turn and head off to the darkness of my room.

*** Story cuts to here and goes on a time skip....***

**** 

Quinn

 I sit idly watching this perky redhead named Gia who talks animatedly as I barely listen to her plans once she gets to Connecticut.  I nod my head politely barely registering a thing she’s saying and barely notice a man wearing a train conductor uniform hand over a copy of Newsweek magazine.  I hear Gia swoon as she looks at the front cover and gives out a lustful sigh.  I’m caught out of my reverie and look at her blankly and she gives me this sheepish look.

“I’ve like had a crush on him like forever.” She explains and leans over conspiratorially “sometimes, I like to think he’s the real life Christian Grey from that 50 Shades book and the character is somewhat based on him than Edward from Twilight.” She turns the magazine.  “Look—isn’t he the most gorgeous male specimen you’ve ever seen?”

My gaze slides from Gia’s goofy smile to the handsome masculine face looking back at me.  Shock freezes over my system and I find myself being barely able to breathe for the slightest seconds.

“I know right, he is absolutely drool-worthy.  I wouldn’t mind cuffing him to my bedpost too,” Gia giggles gaily, unaware that I am more mortified than awestruck. I swallow forcibly as I gaze into Iain’s arrogant dark brows, the faint sardonic smile bleakly recalling those hard lips when he kissed me that night at the prom.   I remember the feel of his soft, dark brown hair against my hands that fateful night and I turn my attention to the bold print entitled: J. Maximiliain Charles Hargreave. President, CEO of Global Merchants & Holdings.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing and my mind was still reeling at the thought of it all.  I grab the magazine from Gia’s hands and read the article as the searing pain rips through my insides, tearing through me as I digest the words of the four page written article about his life.  That he was a child prodigy with an IQ of 160 and possesses an eidetic memory, how he had gained the profits from a song that was composed by his grandfather when he died, no doubt the same man who taught him to play the piano, how he had earned his first billion before hitting puberty when he used those profits investing in computer and electronics stock,  how he also developed a well known program software which quadrupled his worth,  his life in England and going to boarding school in Scotland, and how he quit his final year in Harvard as an economics major with a degree in Computer Science a few months shy from graduation, opting to rightfully inherit his company when he turned 21 years of age.  I also notice pictures of him with famous stars, him being seen arm in arm with some tall leggy model who I realize was Lily, the psycho ex-girlfriend bitch-whore who came after me during the week when Iain left.

***Story Cuts again****

“Mrs. Rolfe-Stuart will see you now,” the butler informs me and I follow him to a room that appears to be like a greenhouse overlooking a sprawling back lawn.  I take in the magnificent sight of the surroundings and above the wall in the middle hangs a huge yellow banner shaped like a shield with a light blue checkered design cut in the middle, as if dividing it into two. There are statues of lions made out of ivory that were meant to guard the banner. On the other side of the wall is a crest of a pelican sitting on a nest feeding her young ones with the words: Vericite. Vulnare. Virtus.  A tartan plaid in red with blue and green details used as quilts and pillow covers inside the solarium.  In the middle sits a frail old woman with intense gray eyes that look hauntingly familiar.  She must have been very pretty in her day as her even patrician features stand out and she still has the bearing of a statuesque queen despite the severe arthritis and old age. She gives me the one over look and I can tell from her sour expression that she isn’t amused or pleased.

This woman is my benefactor? She hardly looks like the type that gives anything to charity.  She stares at me with those cold, disapproving eyes colder than subzero degree temperature.

“You’re different from what I expected.” She pauses again to pass another condemning look over my hair taking in the emerald green blouse, steel gray A-line skirt, and black Christian Louboutin pumps I’ve borrowed from Millet.  “You’re too skinny by far, you’re not very tall, and you’re too pale. Put some blush and lipstick.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rolfe-Stuart.” I answer bleakly as I take the seat she offers in front of me. Genevieve Stuart’s gray eyes narrow and her face is unreadable as I open my purse and do exactly what she commands. When I’m done I look at her straight in the eye.  “Will this do?”

“Are you mocking me, child?”

“No, ma’am.  I am not.” I answer curtly, feeling like a schoolgirl in a Prep boarding school.  “I came here to thank you for the scholarship you’ve awarded me.  As you aware of my intentions of changing majors, I am no longer worthy of receiving the grant you’ve offered.  Though however, I am most grateful for your kindness and generosity, I am only truly sorry.”

“Is that all?” she barks after a long pause.  I notice that she is now looking at me with a combination between curiosity and wonder.

“Yes.”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” she announces as I feel a surge of dread rise to my throat.  “I assume that given the connection between Dean Pendleton and his wife, Constance whom you’ve met previously in Ohio, you already know that I am Iain’s great grandmother.  I insisted in giving you the grant for several reasons despite Iain’s initial objections.  Why do you look so surprised?  For a rather intelligent girl, I’m certain that you’ve already known this long before you stepped into the walls of Yale.”

“Iain offered to pay for my tuition?” I echo bleakly, a memory of him telling me not to worry about my financial problem pops into my head.  We were sitting side by side while he was playing the piano, his dark hair falling carelessly on his forehead, his blue eyes gazing intently as my heart beats in staccato, wanting to drown into the fathomless depths of those orbs.

“Of course he did.  He bribed David Pendleton with an expensive sports car.” Genevieve snorts, her nose crinkles in distaste as she mutters something about men and their cars. “I however, found this piece of information interesting when it was relayed to me by Constance when she worried about her 4th husband’s safety and desire to drive an overpriced automobile. Iain is highly sentimental with this particular car.  He won it in a ridiculous bet he made in boarding school.  It was quite a scandal at the time, I’m afraid.  I was glad that the headmaster Dr. Heussaff is a very agreeable man when it comes to monetary disclosure.” She hesitates for a moment before she says reluctantly.  “Iain flashed the Duchess of Cambridge when he accepted his diploma.  She wasn’t the Duchess at the time but a commoner visiting a relative who was in the same class as Iain, but still it was quite an embarrassment that the school nearly retracted his right to graduate had I not intervened.  He gained a McLaren F1 GTR Longtail for his efforts, but in my personal opinion, that boy should have been horsewhipped.” Genevieve’s brows snap together as she frowns in displeasure, but I can tell that she’s amused because her lips were twitching as if with reluctant laughter and her cold gray eyes are squinting in merriment.

I feel dizzy again thinking of the car Iain gave to Dean Pendleton to pay for my tuition.  It’s one of the world’s most expensive cars priced at nearly 2.4 million dollars. He gave up his car to pay for your tuition, my subconscious clucks in dismay while she checks out the banner, tartan plaids, and the other opulence found inside Mrs. Rolfe-Stuart’s house as she gives me a derisive look as to how I’ve fucked up big time by squandering away at my scholarship. Iain’s obvious wealth still hasn’t sunk in apparently either.  I find it hard to assimilate the cold, business tycoon who was raised in money from the mercurial, talented pianist who had been my tutor and lived with me for almost two weeks.  I’m so wrapped in thought, I barely notice Mrs. Stuart has observed my reaction in stunned silence.  She nods as if she’s finally decided on something.

“Enough of the pleasantries,” Mrs. Stuart motions me to come closer and she offers me to sit beside her. “I must insist that after what you have done for my family, this scholarship is yours no matter how you choose to do away with whatever endeavors you wish to pursue.”

“But, Mrs. Stuart the scholarship is intended for a Dramatic Arts Major.”

“I’ll worry about the semantics later,” she snaps. “My, you are quite the stubborn creature. This grant is yours and yet you still refuse it.  How you choose to dedicate your scholarly pursuits is none of my business. I will see to your scholarly needs as the grant will still be provided for you.   I also get this feeling that you’re doing this out of ill will as I see nothing of your demeanor that indicates you’re interested in uplifting your social butterfly status otherwise you’d be terrified of me.   I know about that ‘secret society’ you’ve joined and I used to be the Grand Mistress of the House so right about now instead of kissing my ass, you’re tossing away your scholarship like a wet, dirty rag.  Is it because you truly feel that you are not worthy or is it because I’m related to Iain and you want nothing to do with anything that concerns him therefore this shenanigan of yours is like an act of spite?”

I stare at her wordlessly. She looks at me speculatively, almost as if she’s testing me.  I get more nervous thinking that I might give her the wrong answer so I take in a deep breath and respond as truthfully as I could.

“Yes, it’s both.  I’m not worthy of such attention because I feel like I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.  I was helping out a friend, who was looking for his long lost brother.  I knew nothing of his background as he had kept that information to himself. When I found out, I felt betrayed because he wasn’t completely honest with me.” I laugh shakily, remembering my reaction to his Newsweek cover on the train ride to New Haven.

“And now that you know who he truly is, how does that make you feel? I’m surprised you’re not knocking down his door begging him to marry you as many women have done far more desperate, yet convincingly clever methods into persuading my great-grandson.”

“We’re worlds apart. He’s sophisticated, worldly, and experienced while I’m just the small town cheerleader who nearly ruined her life by getting pregnant.”

Mrs. Stuart is quiet for a moment, as if digesting this news.  When she finally speaks she says it in a way that surprises me given the way she treated me earlier as her voice is less gruff in quality.

“Do you still love him? The boy who got you pregnant?”

“I care about him, I won’t deny that.  We share a bond having been two unwilling teenagers brought into a situation we couldn’t get out of for nine months.  But if you’re asking do I imagine sharing a future with Noah Puckerman, then my answer is no.  We had nothing in common except for Beth.”

“And the child, what of her?”

 “She has a loving adoptive mother who cares about her.  Beth deserves more than what I can offer. I’ve tried many ways to get her back, but in the end I learned to let go because I knew it was the right thing to do.  I was a child and so was she. It wasn’t an easy thing for me to get over, because I‘ve just learned to love someone other than myself and to let go of that cut me deeper than any pain imaginable.”

“We all have our own skeletons, Quinn.  It is of the past and we must learn to move on from it.” Two things take me by surprise. Genevieve Rolfe-Stuart addresses me by my first name and her voice has taken a quiet demeanor almost as if in an empathizing manner.

“So what major have you decided on?  I take it Drama is not much to your liking since you have barely attended any of their classes.”

“Literature Major.” I shrug. “I’ve always enjoyed writing and reading books.”

“I’ve mentioned before that you can do away with your scholarship however you like.”

“I still cannot accept the offer, Mrs. Stuart.” I scornfully inform her.

“Don’t be impertinent, child!  You may not be one of us, but you have more resilience underneath that delicate façade than Constance and Iain’s mother combined.  Given from what I can already gather having just met you, you are not only proud, but stubborn, defiant, and manipulative in some degree.  Look at you right now—so sure of yourself even though you know that I could buy and sell that pathetic little town of yours, you have the nerve to come to my house and throw back my money because you think you’re better than me.  You, walking in here with the confidence of a king, even though you look disheveled in those obviously borrowed clothes, but still have the balls to stare me down thinking that I’m wrong and you’re right.” For some inexplicable reason, she finds this amusing and is almost restraining the urge to laugh.  She settles down and looks me in the eye.

“You will accept the grant. That is final.” She continues on and raises a hand before I have a chance to object again. “In the past few months you have managed to turn my family’s life upside down.  You’ve met my great grandson and reunited him with his brother, bridging a gap that has spanned nearly seventeen years.  For that reason alone I am truly grateful am in your debt.  So we will have no more talk about declining the tuition and boarding expenses I’ve covered for your entire stay at Yale.  Even if it takes you ten years to graduate then so bloody be it.” She interjects again giving me another hard cold stare when I’m about to object again.  

“If you won’t accept it in my behalf, then do it for Neil’s sake since he’s the only member of our family whom you bear a remarkable high tolerance for.  You’ve done him a favor of bringing him back to us, now allow him at least the courtesy as his friend to assist you in your time of need.”

She checks me if I’m going to argue.  When she notes my silence, she continues.  “Furthermore, I wish to discuss something else because my concern is now geared towards Iain.  Ever since he has met you, my great grandson has surprised me with his behavior. Before you walked into our lives, Iain was a determined, young man who cared about nothing but himself and his work.  I theorized that it was because he was deeply hurt from his parents’ divorce and he did not want history repeating itself.”  She looks at me oddly almost as if berating me.

“In all my years having had raised him, never has he expressed the bizarre conduct that he’s showed in these past few months. He may have had a long history of defying propriety at times, but never has he done anything outrageous to provoke a scandal. But from the time that he has met you, Iain’s actions have demonstrated something more than just personal gratitude.  The first was when he offered to give up something of sentimental value and conspired with the Dean to create a fake scholarship by paying for your tuition. Then he walked out from an important meeting to be at your side when he heard about your accident.  He not only cover all your hospital expenses, but he even went beyond what was expected by hiring a team of the world’s best Neurosurgeons to operate on you. He not only provided the doctors first-class accommodations and travel, he paid them handsomely including overtime.  I can imagine the anguish he’s been through watching you for three days without sleep only to be rejected by you regardless of what he’s done.  And even in spite of this, he then calls in one of the country’s best Rehabilitation doctors and provides every expense necessary for you to be able to walk again. When he returned from his trip, he’s been irritable, aloof, and angry to the point that he has frightened high powered consecutives and caused switchboard operators to cry from the strain. For someone he has barely known in a span of less than two weeks, Iain has gone through great lengths to prove to you that he cares and still you say that you aren’t worthy?”

I pale at the thought as each word she says cuts me to the core.  He paid for everything?  That explains why the nurses were commenting about how lucky I was.  It wasn’t because they thought Iain was handsome, but because he did everything he could to take care of me.  The doctors, the staff, everything was first class, how could I have not noticed that?  Images of Iain at my bedside, his eyes red and puffy from lack of sleep as he watches dutifully over me.  I even remember him crawling beside me on the bed, fast asleep with his arm draped around me, almost as if protecting me from further harm.  I even remember waking up that very day seeing both our hands linked while he slept beside me during his vigil.  I imagine again him looking adorably disheveled in his charcoal gray business suit, wearing a silk blue tie with pink elephants. Then I remember him wrapping the beautiful jeweled Birds of Paradise bracelet and kissing my wrist as he makes his pledge: “The fact is, I love you, Lucy Quinn Fabray. You have enamored, enchanted, and bewitched me more than any woman I’ve ever known.” I remember him smiling tenderly when I notice his tie as he removes it then wrapping it around my neck before kissing me senseless.

“I take it from your expression that you’ve never been informed of his efforts.”

“It’s quite a shock, Ma’am.” I admit anxiously, I say nothing more as words have eluded me for the time being.

  “He also has been single for a very long time and hasn’t been on one of his usual night outs with a model on his arm.  Considering now having finally met you, I can easily conclude that you are the reason for all this drama.  I agree that my great grandson is out of his head. He would never act this foolish if he wasn’t thoroughly besotted.”

I turn my head, suppressing the urge that my heart is beating loud enough to explode in my ribcage.  “If you’re thinking of matchmaking, and I think you are, you have the wrong woman.”

Mrs. Rolfe-Stuart eyes narrow as she snorts.  “And you think Lily de Jong is a better option?”

“I meant Alyssa Hayworth.” I recall the auburn haired statuesque beauty in one of the many articles I’ve read featuring Iain.  Society gossip magazines were soon hinting at the possibility of an engagement. Genevieve was speaking the truth because since Prom-asaurus, most of Iain’s photos were of him single.  He no longer possessed an arm candy in the form of a Victoria’s Secret or Sports Illustrated model.

“Don’t be silly, she is merely his business partner.  I’ve known Alyssa as our families are close friends.  She is a business acquaintance.  That is all.”

My heart soars with the possibilities.  He hasn’t given up on me!  I remember that fateful night at the prom before he let me go.  “No, I won’t have you like this.  Not when you still need time to figure things about your life.  You’re young and you need to experience what it has to offer because it’s all a part of growing up. I remember what you’ve done to your exes and I will prove to you that I am not like them.  I am a patient man, Quinn and if it means that I will have to wait forever, I will because I love you. Judging from that kiss, I know you feel the same way too and refuse to admit it because you’re confused about yourself and what you need.  So no matter how long it takes, until then, I will anticipate that day when you finally admit that you love me.”

“Do you know what the banner says above?” Mrs. Rolfe-Stuart’s voice breaks me from my daydreaming sequence involving her great grandson.  “I assume that with your grade point average this semester, you have conquered Latin?  In the next succeeding months, I must insist that you also learn Gaelic.”

I’m too rattled to even consider that she wants me to learn how to speak another foreign language that I gaze again at the words: Vericite. Vulnare. Virtus.

“It says courage grows stronger in the wounded.”

Genevieve Rolfe-Stuart nods approvingly.  “Yes, it does.  It is the Stuart household code of honor.  My ancestors were a resilient lot.  You may not be of our blood, Miss Fabray, but there is a quality in you that reflect on these very words my family has stood and died proudly for.  It comes to no surprise that my great grandson has recognized this as well, seeing how taken he is by you.  I may have married a rich American Oil magnate and stood by my vows and despite it all, I still kept my name.  In fact, I added my surname as a hyphenate to his.  An outrageous thing to do, but my dear Edward, may the Lord rest his soul, knew it was futile to argue with me,” she laughs at the memory and simpers for a moment.  

Story cuts here

***

Bonus material Thanksgiving Day : Based from Glee Season Four Episode 8

Quinn

***

I nuzzle up against him, eyes closed, my nose at his throat taking in the sweet sexy scent that I know belongs to the man I’ve been hopelessly in love with for months and now happens to be mine.  Two weeks of being together after finally reconciling, I let my mind drift as I smile dreamily still in the haze of wake and sleep.  I allow myself to fantasize that we’re happily married and on our honeymoon even though the last two weeks felt like it.  I feel soft kisses raining down on my forehead as Iain gently nudges me awake.

“Quinn, wake up.” He whispers.

“No.” I rub my face against his bare chest against that denial and feel the rumble underneath as he chuckles.

“Come on, you’re going to be late for your flight.”

I clamber out of bed feeling stiff and yes, I am stark naked and feel for what of a better expression absolutely knackered.  Yes, that would definitely be from all the sex we’ve been having.  I’m too tired as my eyes still droop heavily.  Iain is quickly at my side and uses his body as a form of support for me as I lean sleepily against him.

“Not much of a morning person, are you?” A slow, sexy smile forms across those lips that have explored every single part of my body.  I’m rendered speechless and feel a bit embarrassed at my nudity.  Iain is just as much as naked but he’s just the most beautiful man in the planet anyway so it doesn’t bother him.

I’m actually the one embarrassed for both of us at the moment.

And immediately, I’m now wide awake.

“Don’t over think it, sweetheart.” He says and it slightly peeves me that he can easily read my own thoughts as if I’ve said them out loud.  He picks up one of his shirts lying on the floor and puts it on me, giving me one of those salacious, knowing smiles and I automatically tune in to what he’s really thinking as he pulls up a pair of boxers on himself.  He grins and softens his rebuke by affectionately rumpling my hair more than it already was with his hand.

“When will you be back from Ohio?” he asks.

“Sunday.” I gaze up at him, drinking him in as I throw my arms around his neck and my fingers twist his just-been-fucked-like-crazy-last-night hair. Pushing my body against his, I kiss him back passionately and it takes him by surprise for a second before he responds with a low groan.  His hands slip into my now long, blonde hair, his tongue darting inside my mouth.  Just about when I think we’re going to go on at it again, he pulls back, his electric cobalt blue eyes hooded and dark with desire.

“That is going to be without doubt the longest weekend I’ll have to go through without you.” He murmurs.

“Ditto.” I agree, my arms still around his neck.  I notice too that he hasn’t released me either and I’m just as reluctant to let him go. I lean against him and rub my nose against his.  “You know, you can join me.”

Iain chuckles as he playfully twirls my hair with his finger.  “I meant what I said when I told you that I trust you to go and visit your friends.”

“But don’t you want to meet my family for Thanksgiving?”I frown at him feeling slightly disappointed.

“I’ve already met your family.” He points out.

“I meant meet them formally as my boyfriend.” I look up at him and he’s gazing at me, his expression nonplussed.  He immediately puts his hands on my shoulders and gives them a squeeze as if to reassure me.

“You called me ‘your boyfriend.” He’s grinning ear to ear.  Placing his hands on either side of my face, he holds my head for me to stare into those blue orbs.  “I like it.” He enunciates each word softly before he leans in and kisses the life out of me as if to seal the deal.

“So do I,” I answer back saucily when he finally lifts his head.  “I need to shower.”

“I’ve got a few more calls to make before I go.” Iain lets me go reluctantly and turns as he scrambles around the bed looking for his phone muttering curses in his wake for not being able to find it.  I giggle and shake my head at him before heading into the shower.  While inside the shower, I recall the last few days that have gone with amusement.  He’s been living in and out of the apartment I’ve been sharing with Millet and her brother Mark-Francis that it’s been hilarious having him sneak in and out like a thief. I actually think it’s more like a teenager sneaking in and out like Romeo and Juliet which actually makes it romantic.  I once joked about him living here now more often than his own apartment in New York.  How he manages to take a helicopter everyday to work is beyond me, but then again for a multibillionaire tycoon, I guess it’s nothing out of the ordinary.  

I towel-dry my hair, comb it through I hastily put on a pair of clean lace bra and panties, which I flush thinking that I had bought these at an expensive lingerie store called La Perla, thinking that it might have been more to Iain’s taste.  Then again, he pretty much likes me wearing anything….or nothing at all.and quickly grab the clothes I went shopping with Millet. It’s a mustard yellow Anthropologie blouse and grey Missoni A-line skirt. I know my Yale fashion tastes have evolved into something more sophisticated, but I still had to keep a bit of the girly in there.    I shake my sinful thoughts away thinking that ever since my relationship with Iain, I’ve been behaving like the Whore of Babylon. Slipping on a pair of my favorite Spectator boots I got from Anthropologie, I straighten my dress and take a deep breath and head out.  

Iain’s on the phone with his back facing me, but this time he’s fully dressed in his dark deconstructed Diesel jeans, black and white Mexico 66 Onitsuka Tiger sneakers, a grey puppy tooth patch pocket Paul Smith jacket that’s open at the buttons revealing a printed white shirt that’s got an ironic drawing of President Obama wearing a crown and a huge medallion.  His hair is still slightly mussed from last night and I’m completely distracted again recalling those sinful events.

“No, Ron’s missing out the point on what it’s all about.  This isn’t just one of those start-ups that come out strong and fold after a few months time.  We’ve got our hands full as it is.  Call Dylan and tell them to take the offer because after the next few weeks that shit is going to blow over so bad that they’ll be kicking their asses so hard in regret. Yes, the prototype looks good, but somehow I’m not completely sold on the idea.  Like there’s something lacking….. I’ll go over it with Sterling and discuss things in the afternoon.” Glancing up, as if he knew I was watching him, his hard expression softens and says “I’ve got to go.  Remember to book that charity event on Monday with Miss Lucy Quinn Fabray as my date.  Yes, that’s right, Rosalie.  Call Andrea from Bergdorfs and have her assist Miss Fabray in getting whatever it is she needs.”  He rolls his eyes humorously.  “Thank you.” He hands up.

“Hi,” I lean against the door shyly, feeling a bit guilty eavesdropping.  It‘s still a wonder that I’m in a relationship with America’s hottest, richest bachelor who’s just as crazy about me as I am him.

“Hi there,” he greets, offering me one of those lazy half-smiles that melts me down to the core.

“Another boring night hobnobbing with the idle rich, I see.” I tease, obviously not really caring as much. The past few months before I rekindled things with Iain, I’ve followed Millet and Mark-Francis around the exclusive bars of Manhattan, meeting various celebrities.  Because of my association with Millet, I was a shoe in at one of the most exclusive sororities that has Hilary Clinton as an alumna.  I’ve also met a bunch of people whom I’ve only seen on TV who I’ve realized are close, personal friends of my boyfriend.  It was daunting at first, but Iain has made it a point to make me feel so comfortable that I’ve forgotten my initial self-consciousness that most of the famous people I’ve been have become a bit of a blur. Lately, I haven’t been too keen on my studies because I’m two weeks behind my classes.  Again, blame it on me and the sleepless nights I’ve been having sex with this gorgeous modern day Greek god in front of me, but I really am not that bothered.  

“All part of the package, Miss Fabray.” Iain grins lopsidedly as he moves towards me.

“But I’m liking the ‘other’ package much more,” I grin back, feeling all giddy and hot again as I slide my hands across his waist and span his jeans.  He laughs as he covers my hands and shakes his head as I frown in dislike.

“Be careful what you wish for unless you want to miss your flight,” he growls as he gives me another one of those meaningful glances.  “Speaking of packages, you can still take my jet.  I won’t be using it today so it’s at your disposal.”  

I gape openly at him. He had offered his personal aviation fleet, but then again, I didn’t feel comfortable using it at the company’s expense.

“Quinn, it’s my company, my jet.  Seeing that you keep me sane or sometimes insane, you’re now considered an asset so you don’t have to feel guilty about the whole thing.”

“But I like flying domestic publicly.  There’s the falling in line part, arguing with the belligerent airport security, the crying babies during take-off...” I form a bunch of litanies as Iain rolls his eyes and groans helplessly.  He looks ready to argue with me, but decides against it.

“Fine, have it your way.” He says.  “Do you have your ticket with you?”

“Yup,” I nod towards my bag. He turns around and picks up my weekend luggage.  We’re out of the apartment in a few minutes.  Millet and Mark-Francis have been out partying all night so it wouldn’t be a surprise that they’re still asleep.  I promised to text them as soon as I landed in Ohio.  We hop in Iain’s dark grey Porsche Cayenne and drive to the Tweed New-Haven Airport in silence.  There are times that I can honestly find peace in just such and Iain doesn’t seem to mind the non-conversation we’re having.  He often looks at me from time to time and I respond with a silly grin as if we’re divulging in a secret silent language that nobody else knows but us. He reaches out to sometimes find a way to touch me as if to affirm whatever it was I had just mentally passed at him.  As we near the airport, I realize that I booked my flight at La Guardia and look at Iain with a confused expression on my face.  He stops the car and waits until I see a tall man with a shock of black hair wearing aviators who saunters towards us.

“Mister Hargreave.” He nods formally as Iain hands him his keys.  “Miss Fabray.”

“Hi, Anton!” I wave cheerily.

“Is the Hornet ready?”

“All geared up and ready for take-off, Sir.” Anton replies politely, referring to Iain’s helicopter as he nods in approval.  “Martin is waiting at the tarmac.” Even though my boyfriend is thoroughly capable of flying his own plane, Martin St. James is one of the pilots Iain frequently uses whenever he travels.  Nice guy, a little taciturn but then again if he’s efficient at his job and keeps Iain safe during every flight, then I don’t mind at all.    

“I’m really sorry I won’t be able to bring you to La Guardia myself,” Iain says smoothly as he walks over to my side and leans against the passenger door.  “I have an urgent meeting in two hours and need to get home and shower since I’ve been busy the entire evening yet again.”  He says purposely, throwing me a meaningful look which makes me blush furiously as I throw Anton a horrid look.  The bodyguard seems unaffected and oblivious to us since he’s busy listening to his iPod as Iain opens the door to let me out.

“Will you miss me?” I ask as I step out of the passenger’s seat and climb to the back of the car. Iain grabs the seatbelt and buckles it for me and grins as if enjoying the idea of strapping me into something. He’s so tall that we’re still looking at each other face to face.  I desperately want to change the topic since I know I’ll miss him like crazy being away from him for almost four days.  These past two weeks, we’ve been inseparable and I try to ignore the hollow feeling of him still not wanting to join me for Thanksgiving.  Iain once explained that the Stuarts don’t celebrate Thanksgiving and that he was to join his brother Neil into spending the weekend at the Hamptons with Constance and David, who also happens to be the current Dean of Yale. Chelsea, the boys’ stepsister will also be going and I shudder to think of their great grandmother Genevieve as she also will be joining them.

“More than you’ll know.” He murmurs softly.  He looks at the bag beside me and leans over to reach for the scarf I’ve stowed at the handles.  He gives me another heart pounding boyish grin and winks as he gently puts the scarf around me and deftly ties it around my neck. Just like that time he did at my senior Prom; my inner Cheerio is doing sky splits.   Without warning, he pulls at the knot, making me lean over and we kiss as if it were the last time.  Just when I think we’re done and I start to pull away, he gives the knot another firm tug as if he couldn’t break the connection just yet and I sigh with contentment against his lips as I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him for all I’m worth.     I’m breathless and flustered when Iain lifts his head, releasing the scarf.  I fix my hair and give my ponytail a pat as I’m embarrassed by the show of mauling in front of Anton, who thankfully unaware as he keeps his gaze fixed on the driver’s view ahead. “Next time, you’re taking the jet.”

“Yes, sir!” I give him a mock salute, reigning in my patience even though he’s talking to me as if I were a recalcitrant and not very bright child.

“That’s my girl.” He leans over again and kisses my forehead briefly.  He then closes the door and knocks twice loudly, signaling Anton who removes his earplugs and nods in response. As the window pulls up, I look at him longingly as we drive away.  He still doesn’t break eye contact until the car disappears from sight.

I arrive in an hour’s time at La Guardia.  It’s early to noon and I’ve still got time to kill before lining up at the ticket booth. My parents are thrilled that I’m coming home that they’ve planned a small little gathering for my return. It’s the first time since their divorce that they’ve done anything like this.  I yearn to find out how they’re doing.  Hell, even what Fran’s been up to, though I doubt she won’t be as thrilled when she finds out what I’ve been sleeping with Iain these days as I recall those times she tried to unsuccessfully seduce him.  Ugh, my sister is like such a desperate cougar sometimes it sickens me.  I look around at the shops near the airport and figure I should buy some tokens for my friends at New Directions.  Thinking that something off Yale would seem a little too elitist, I change my mind and head out to the ticket booth where a bored, chubby man of Asian descent behind the desk holds up his hand without looking at me.

“Ticket please?” he asks as I get a hint of a gay vibe off him.  He reminds me so much of the comedian Alec Mapa that I almost stifle a giggle when I realize the uncanny resemblance. I keep a straight face as I hand over my ticket and driver’s license as ID.

The Alec Mapa lookalike appears nonchalant as he types in my name to the screen.  His eyes turn into saucers as he now flashes a bright smile at me.

“Miss Fabray, you’ve been upgraded to first class.”

Wait. What? He ignores the incredulous look on my face as he continues on his merry speech which I feel he only reserves for those belonging to the high rollers of the airline.  “Ma’am, we have a first class lounge where you can await for your flight. We at United America offer world-class worthy services that you may be interested in before your departure such as spa, massages, and other beauty treatments. Everything has been already paid for in advance and was added as complimentary to your flight. Thank you for flying with us and have a good day.”

Holy guacamole!  Did he really just memorize that line?

“I think there’s been a mistake.  I booked economy.”

“No Ma’am, no mistake.” He checks the computer screen again and tilts it for me to see for myself as he taps on my name.  “Lucy Quinn Fabray – upgraded.” He hands me my new boarding pass and grins expectantly at me as if Santa Claus had just bypassed Thanksgiving and come early for the holidays.

“Next!!” he hollers as I turn around towards the first class lounge and silently lambasting Iain and his meddling.

In the next hour, I’ve had a manicure, a foot massage and a pedicure all the while sipping in a glass of Bollinger champagne.  I open my iPad and have been on Face Time with Mark-Francis and Millet who have plied me with questions about my upgraded status.

“Oh darling, that’s so generous of him.” Mark-Francis agrees wholeheartedly.  He’s been highly approving of my relationship status with Iain unlike his twin sister who still has yet to warm up to my boyfriend.  I guess it’s because she still hasn’t completely forgiven Iain for not telling me who he was when I found out about him on that fateful train ride to Connecticut.  I remember crying my eyes out and having her comfort me which I felt was an emotion she wasn’t very used to seeing how she and her brother have lived relatively ridiculously comfortable lives.  I didn’t have the pleasure (I meant that in a hilarious, sarcastic sort of way) of meeting her elitist twin much later when I arrived at Yale. “I mean travelling coach.  It’s not very chic,” Mark-Francis shakes his head in absolute disgust.  “It’s stressful and ugh, the people there at the airports are so ghastly I just want to heave.” When he catches Millet glaring at him he amends.  “Except for you darling, of course.  We love you.”

“Tell Hargreave we said thanks for lending us his cabin at Aspen.” Millet says reluctantly as this time its Mark-Francis’ turn to glare at his twin.  “It was nice…..Of him.”

“Oh, it was absolutely gorgeous.  J’adore. ” Mark-Francis gushes as he talks about how he now wants to spend most of his time indoors than partying.  For him, partying didn’t involve the hottest nightclubs in Manhattan, it was St. Tropez, Cannes, and most of the South of France that I’ve only read about in luxury travel guides.   “It’s like I am so over nightclubs. People pushing and stepping on your feet, standing for prolonged hours with sweat dribbling all over…. Absolutely hideous.  It’s not a look at all.  I mean people these days don’t value their homes.  They don’t spend their nights in when they should because it’s one of the nicest things.”

There was a time when Mark-Francis’ ostentatiously outlandish and snobbish remarks would have intimidated me out of my Lima Ohio small-town girl roots, but somehow nowadays, I’ve come to realize that his comments are mundane and are actually meant as a form of humor….Or so I think anyways.  I’m much closer to his twin sister, Millet, who is underneath all that bitchiness and upper class aura is genuinely one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.  Sure, she can be just as mean and snarky as her brother and make even someone like Santana cry in fear, but I’ve come to realize that she’s actually down to earth and a good friend.   After Millet pushes her brother away, we’re alone and we talk about me and Ohio which I feel is a topic which would make her twin roll his eyes at because the thought of Midwest America or anything that doesn’t possess a five star hotel would stress him out of his aura.

“Are you excited to come home?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I take a long sip of the Grande Anne Rose and savor the bubbly goodness.  I recall reading it off from 50 Shades of Grey and how much Mark-Francis now hates the drink because it’s become too ‘mainstream’ and blames it on Christian Grey even though he’s a fictional character.

“You don’t sound that psyched at all.”

“It’s just—well, you know with all that’s been going on there, then Iain, and…”

“You getting fucked out of your brains every night for the past two weeks,” Millet smirks knowingly as I gasp in horror, glad that the manicurist is completely oblivious.  I duly think maybe it’s either she’s used to such idle chatter or she’s been trained to keep her thoughts to herself. “Oh come on, stop acting like the virginial Christian school girl.  The jig is up. You’re a woman now it’s safe to talk about things like this to your friends. Admit it, you love the D.” she breaks into the slang word and giggles uncontrollably in laughter.  I reluctantly find myself unable to resist and join in the mirth.

“Well, just his.” I quip and we laugh again.  I note that Sheena, the manicurist, is trying to suppress a smile on her face.

“Quinn, tell me you’ll be okay.  I mean, I know you’ve been skipping classes  and I hope you’re not running home to Ohio to escape?”

I flush.  It’s true that I changed majors into Literature. I’m still doing the general subjects routes, most of which have been to be on the same schedule as Mark-Francis and Millet, but I missed out like almost two weeks of classes and exams are just around the corner.  I admit that the sexing had been initially to blame, but then there were the parties that Millet and I have been doing, then the events and dates that Iain brings me that I haven’t had much time to sleep or study that I’d wake up at 2 in the afternoon. Plus there was that time when I had gone a-wall in deep depression missing Iain so much that hurt so bad, I’m still lucky that Iain’s great-grandmother hasn’t retracted my scholarship grant.  Luckily, I managed to keep my GPA to straight As despite the turmoil.

“No, of course not, don’t be ridiculous Millet.  It’s just a phase, okay?  I’ll be doing mega crunch time on exam week.”

“I know.  It’s just that….” Oh dear Lord, is Millet going to cry? Seriously I used to think that my friend was born without tear ducts because she’s so tough and scary, but lo and behold, her eyes well up in constant worry about my welfare that I’m utterly touched.  “I worry about you, okay?  You know that if you’re having any trouble with Mr. Moneybags or with anything, you’d tell me right?  You can talk to me, I swear I won’t drag Mark-Francis along.  I’m here for you and yes, even though I still think Iain is a prick, I won’t piss him off if that’ll make you happy because I know he makes you happy.  You deserve to be after all you’ve been through in Lima and I don’t want you to ever forget that.  I don’t want you to throw away what you have now.  Hell, I wish things would be the same for me and Zac, but you know Hollywood celeb types these days.  Promise me, you’ll tell me if something’s wrong, Quinn.  I won’t judge. I’ll try to understand. I’m your friend.”

“I know.” I try to blink back the stupid tears that well up in my eyes.  “I really love him, Mills.  I don’t think I’ve ever been this elated in the longest time.”

“Babes, anyone can see that. He’s madly in love with you.  He barely can take his eyes off you and if I may say so myself, when a man has to commute every single bloody day in a helicopter and live in an apartment with Mark and me that takes a helluva lot of commitment.  If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

I laugh uncertainly.

“Has he told you he loves you?” “Yes.  He never lets me forget it.”

“I’m really happy for you, Quinn.”

“I’m happy for me too.”

“Don’t screw it up, I mean it.  Yale. Your scholarship. Iain.” She glares at me with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, like a gunslinger ready for a gun fight.

“You sound like my mother.” I then hear the announcement that we would be boarding in fifteen minutes time.  “Got to go, I’ll talk to you soon okay Mills?  Love you lots!” I then end our chat and generously tip Sheena when all is said and done with the pampering.  I take in my LV luggage (which I borrowed from Millet) and my newly manicured nails as I breathe in the last of the New York air as I mentally prepare for not just the one hour and forty minute flight, but the longest four days of my life in the last place I thought I wouldn’t miss.

*                *                *

It feels so good to be home.

I’ve got a minion following me around and worshipping me.  I do admit that Kitty doesn’t share my delicate bone structure nor my height, but with a little Quinn Fabray tutorial, I think she can manage.  I admit it’s a little bit fun having someone worship the ground you walk on.  Almost like my glory days didn’t end with me getting knocked up and that I had just pressed fast forward and gotten crowned Homecoming Queen and that I never gave it to Rachel Berry.  I didn’t have the heart to tell Kitty about me dating Iain.  He obviously wants to keep our relationship a secret, so I just go around telling people that I’m dating an older, married professor.  It sounded much more dramatic in a sinister way because I doubt anyone would ever believe that I’m dating one of the world’s youngest multi-billionaire entrepreneurs who everyone here in McKinley can only recall as being the substitute teacher and once piano player at New Directions.

Actually, a little nagging part of me feels hurt that Iain would rather spend his ‘non-Thanksgiving’ holiday doing boring corporate mergers than with me.  I know he trusts me and all, but I get this sinking feeling that he’s holding out on me somehow.  You’re asking too much, Fabray. My subconscious glares at me as she leans against one of the school’s lockers as she gives me my signature ‘angry’ look: furrowed brows, pursed lips and hand on hips just like the one I did when I confronted the Puckerman brothers.  I felt a compulsion to protect Marley, the shy but gaunt girl that Kitty’s been so concerned of; I get a mental image of myself.  Lately, it’s like coming home to a reincarnated version of yourself in people you barely know and it’s creepy.

But what’s more creepy is Kitty’s “What Would Quinn Fabray Do?” poster on her locker.  That is just, in Iain’s words, mental.

*                *                *

Iain

* * *

“Mister Hargreave,” the secretary bends down beside Iain, her voice lowered to avoid disturbing the other men present seated at the conference room as they were currently discussing an international trade agreement.  “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a phone call for you...”

Iain turns his head and nods as his face betraying none of the alarm he felt over the interruption. “Who’s on the line?”

The secretary shook her head in trepidation.  “H-h-he wouldn’t say, but he says it’s very important and tentative that you take the call.”

The other men present looked visibly irritated and with obvious reason.  They were in the middle of a heated discussion of mergers between companies and Iain was presently acting as a consultant for the two of the world famous firms dealing with software while the other was a European car company.  The current president of Loewe motors waves his hand hurriedly to dismiss Iain and he nods as he slides his chair back.  The secretary showed him to a private room and Iain snatched up the telephone.

“Hargreave.” He answers.

“Greetings from Lima, Ohio.” A male voice drawls mockingly at the other end.

“Who’s this?”

“Iain, I can’t begin to thank you for helping me out with my pool business in LA.  The connections you’ve given me have been a tremendous benefit.” Noah Puckerman says dryly.  “Not to mention that contract stint with the Playboy Mansion where l got to meet and hook up with the hottest bunch of Bunnies ain’t half that bad.”

“Puckerman,” Iain’s voice had gone flat and deadly.  “What do you want?”

“Oh, just wanted to give you a heads up on your girlfriend.  I mean, that is Quinn Fabray, right? I’ve seen the lovely pics of you two on Google looking oh so right and tight…….or so that’s what I thought I saw---“ “You have a lot of fucking nerve, boy.” Iain snarls furiously.  “Stay away from her or I swear I’ll—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, relax Romeo.  That Quick ship has sailed.  You’re far more than welcome to have all the loopy drama our dear girl is so well known for. I do admit she’s gotten hotter somehow over the past few months, but I guess that’s with all the---“

“I’m hanging up now.” Iain announced coldly.

“Alright, I’m going to say what I have to, but you better be listening real good, pretty boy, because I’m going to say this once.”

Iain slammed the phone back into the cradle after what Puck had recounted was Quinn’s latest shenanigans in Ohio.  By the time he returned, the people present in the conference room looked at him with a mixture of polite concern and accusation.  Iain sat down and continued with the proceedings.  He tried to concentrate on the business on hand, but it was failing miserably.  He was annoyed.  He was so deeply pissed off to the point he accidentally knocked off someone’s glass of water when he moved his hand.  He swore a mouthful as one of the secretaries huddled taking a tissue and hurriedly wiped it spewing an apology on his behalf.  

The meeting finally adjourned at eight o’clock in the evening, when dinner was over, Iain excused himself and went up to his suite.  He shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie as he walked over to the built-in bar and fixed himself a drink.  He sat alone in the counter, deep in thought thinking of what Puckerman had just told him.  

“She’s acting out,” Puck said tersely.  “Quinn has gotten herself a minion and has this thing in her head that she’s the Queen Bee mentoring this girl into making this other girl’s life a living hell.  She’s gotten into a slapping contest with Santana and thinks my half-brother is the spawn of Satan.  Not that that should probably bother you but would you believe the stuff that she’s been telling everyone what she’s been doing at Yale? Did she ever tell you that she’s been busy rubbing elbows with Jodi Foster, Hilary Clinton and some defunct 80’s movie starlet?  I just thought that you might be concerned because she’s telling everyone that she’s dating a married 35 year old psych professor who hasn’t been doing the deed with his wife for three years.  I don’t know about you, pretty boy, and although this pains me to tell you this but you’re not old or stodgy enough to be a creepy pedophile professor because you’re too busy running that badass company and I highly doubt you’ve got some wife hidden away in a cellar unless of course you’re Bluebeard or something.”

Iain takes a long swig of his drink and narrows his eyes.

“If you really, and I mean really give a shit about her.  You’d come to Lima for her and set her straight.”

Iain cursed and stalked off the lounge chair his drink on one hand and moved to the massive windows of his suite as he gazed at the Seattle skyline.  There was something about looking afar at bright city lights that brought him comfort, but as of the moment it was doing nothing to soothe his tormented brain.

Puck was right.  Quinn was indeed acting out. He suspected that Genevieve knew about her joining that bloody sorority but refused to confide in him. He felt responsible and blanched at the thought of her self-destructive behavior.  If word got out about her spreading lies about her and some professor (there were a dozen of men in the entire campus who fit the profile but Iain had done his research and none of them had a class with Quinn nor had been spotted with her), or if were indeed true, she would be completely ruined and would royally fuck up her freshman year at Yale and that was his fault.  He thought that she needed time to think things through, time to grow up, but what he didn’t realize that what she needed was neither.

Quinn Fabray needed him.

And he told her that he trusted her to go on about it by herself.

God, he felt like a fucking idiot for letting her go.

He also felt that no matter how much alcohol he was taking now, it was going to make him incredibly sleepy and he knew that he couldn’t wait any longer.  He pulled out his iPhone and dialed a number.

“Mister Hargreave?” Martin St. James’ voice is on the other line.

“How soon can Delta fly?” Iain is referring to his newly acquired Bombardier Global Express XRS jet, the same one he offered to that frustrating blonde girl he couldn’t get off his mind.

“She’s all fueled up and ready to go, sir.  The crew can be ready and leave Tacoma in an hour’s time.”

“Good.  Set your coordinates and be ready to fly to Ohio tonight.” was all Iain said as he kills the phone. He then dials another number.

“Rosalie, book me a suite up at any of the best hotels in Lima Ohio.” He breathes in a long sigh of frustration at his secretary’s obtuseness.  “Yes, Lima, Ohio in six hours time.  I’ll be staying over for Thanksgiving.”

*                *                *

Quinn

***

Could this day get any worse?

Fine, I admit it was a bit fun seeing the guys all over again but seriously, it does reach to a zenith.

I honestly cannot wait to come home.  Just a few more hours and we’ll be out of here.  

I just have to get through the most awkward Thanksgiving in history with Mom and her new boyfriend the Reverend, Dad and Angelina Jo-hoe-lie and Fran.  Actually, I don’t remember Fran mentioning ever bringing a guest home but chances are, she’ll probably drag some attractive poor dumb fellow off the street.   If it were anything else, this holiday already sucks.

I’ve been e-mailling Millet and how she and Mark-Francis have decided to do an impromptu visit to Manhattan and already part of me is wishing I had used that damn ticket Rachel Berry gave me so I could meet up with them.  I wouldn’t pay her a visit or anything, just drop by and see how she and Kurt are doing, no doubt I’m not really interested in going to that Meat Packing District house they now call home.  Although I admit that it would be fun to see the drag queens and not just Kurt.

Seriously, I cannot wait to get home.

I just realized that I had called Connecticut home, not Lima.

I’m a bit worried about Iain.  He emails me regularly and we do get on Face Time.  Since we’ve been dating, he’s bought me the latest iPhone and since last night, I haven’t heard from him.  I console myself into thinking that maybe he’s just tuckered out from that boring merge between Samsung and some European automobile company.  

The last time I heard was that his company was thinking of making a prototype car that was designed to change the world.  I give off a half-smile thinking of how excited Iain was about the whole thing. He didn’t want to bore me with the details, but he said that if the merge comes successfully, we could be looking at the first concept car that doesn’t require gasoline, but runs efficiently on electricity and sunlight.  He could have said that if the car could run on water, I’d be impressed as well.  I’m starting to miss him already.  I give him a ring again but it just goes down to voice mail.  Even singing that number with Santana and Britney the other day made me even think of Iain like crazy.  I had Sugar take a video of it and thought about sending to him because while I was singing and dancing, all I was thinking was him, hoping he would change his mind and come see about me.  It was like “Come See About Me” was me and Iain.  I even had this idea that maybe it’d change his mind and have him come home and spent Thanksgiving with us.

Then I thought about the spat I had with Santana yesterday.  It began with her accusing Kitty of giving Marley laxatives and somewhere along the way, it escalated into a slapping session.  Britney had just broken up the fight and I’ve just stepped out still fuming mad.  I shouldn’t have exaggerated about the professor, it was far from the truth. Yes, there was a psychology professor in Yale who was 35 years old and smoked a pipe, but the reason why his wife didn’t touch him for three years was because he was caught with his pants down doing the beasts with two backs with the star quarterback in his office.  It was one of the biggest open secrets in Yale, and why I thought to use him was just another stroke of impromptu creative spark that I had picked up during a creative writing session.  I would have been proud of myself of telling an elaborate tale, but right now I feel sick to the stomach.  I couldn’t explain why I had felt the need to play the bad girl. It was like being around Kitty had just given me a jolt of pure power that I felt I was back in high school again wearing my Cheerios uniform and tying my hair in a high pony as if I never got pregnant and ended up staying with New Directions.

The next day the whole Slapping Santana fiasco is forgotten and everyone is busy with the preparations of sectionals.  I miss the whole excitement, it’s almost like how psyched I used to get before every cheer dance.  Finn calls on everyone for a show circle as we all gather around.  I try as hard not to look at Santana and she pretty much avoids me as well.  A part of me feels terrible for fibbing but then again the stubborn side of me stays put and shuts up her mouth.  As Finn drones on about, I look upon the excited faces of the new team, wondering in awe how much similar and different they were from me and the original New Directions.  I start making mental notes and comparisons all the while sending a prayer that they do well and win because at the end of the day, my glory days in high school are over and the torch has been passed to them.  And I couldn’t think of a better bunch who deserve it as much as we did. I position myself next to Artie and I actually find myself missing his company.  He was a pretty good friend who never took advantage of my situation behind the wheelchair.  He’s a pretty cool dude and someday, maybe I could give a good word to Iain that he might consider helping Artie out someday.  

Oh wow, I really do miss Iain.  I look at what I’m wearing and it’s a white dress with red petals.  I got this from an exclusive sample sale at Oscar Dela Renta thinking I was like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City.  I rarely got to wear this dress and for the first time I had actually more than wanted nothing more but to call Iain and tell him that I wanted to go back to New York and spend their non-Thanksgiving holiday at the Hamptons.  As soon as we finish with our group high fives and everyone scrambles out of the hallway, Marley passes through me looking as pale as a ghost.  Her eyes seem a little bugged out and catatonic and I know with a sense of dread that perhaps Santana’s accusations about Kitty turning the poor girl bulimic were true.  I knew that look on her face.  I’ve seen it on Mercedes when she tried losing weight as a Cheerio and before Beth, I had also been that girl.  I shake my head and as I’m about the approach Kitty and confront about the Marley issue, I stop dead on my tracks as I watch Iain walking toward s me with a fierce glower. He looks furious.

Holy shit!

I must be imagining things. Yes, this is an illusion.

Then another thing distracts me.  Iain isn’t wearing his usual wardrobe of shirts and blazers.  Instead, he’s casually dressed in a Lacoste Navy green and white stripe pique Polo shirt, cream colored linen pants, and beat up canvas and suede free floating tongue TNT 5 skate shoes by Vans that my heart starts pounding like a clattered engine.  He looks younger than the brightly ambitious twenty-something billionaire tycoon whom I’ve seen around in expensive custom-made Armani or suits he gets from Saville Row.  In fact, today in that outfit, he could almost pass off as a high school senior. He’s also clean shaven and I’ve noticed the new girls: Marley, Unique and especially Kitty with that “Who is THAT?” look on their faces and I want to reply “He’s mine, bitches so back off.”  

But instead, I watch open-mouthed thinking that if things were different, if he was a senior at McKinley High, I would be dating him, not Finn.  I would have never cheated on him with Puck, and I would have never even considered being with Sam.  If things were different, I would have given my virginity to him and if I did end up pregnant, I knew just knew that Iain would have done everything in his power to have raised that child with me and I would have never given Beth up.  I also then imagined what it would have been like if Iain was a student at McKinley but that was just close to impossible.  I envision him being the captain of the soccer team and whatever struggles he faced forming a team because Lima isn’t exactly warmed up to the idea of playing the European sport, I would have been there to support him head on.   And because I know Iain’s reading off these exact thoughts running through my highly imaginative mind, his frown intensifies. I notice his masseter  muscles throbbing and I know he’s pissed about something fierce.  My head is swimming and I’m thinking of running to the other side when his even, deadly calm voice stops me.

“Quinn.”

“Iain,” I respond in the same deadpan tone as I ignore Kitty looking fascinated at Iain wondering who the hell he was.

“So is it true?”

Before I let him say another word I give him a pleading look.  “Not now, please, Iain?  Not here.” I murmur feeling my skin grow from pallid to now ashen.  Please, please, can I die now?

“Wow, you are gorgeous.” Kitty spurts the words out as she gives Iain one of those seducing winks I’ve taught her and I groan when Iain spares her a glance then looks at me with a raised eyebrow.  

“Uhm, Kitty this is Iain.” I give out the introductions hurriedly with a quick wave of my head. Kitty looks expectedly at Iain, hoping that he gives her his attention, but right now his gaze is deadlocked with mine and doesn’t dare waver.

“W-w-what are you doing here?  I thought you trusted me.”

“I did, that was until I heard what you’ve been up to I decided you needed an intervention.” He’s staring down at me with his face carefully composed, giving nothing away. I look at Kitty who is suspiciously eyeing both of us with intense curiosity.  What the hell has gotten into him?  He sounds like a middle-aged man scolding me like an errant child.  Part of me wants to yell and speak out my mind and for once I actually listen to Impulsive Quinn.

“Stop treating me like a child!!” I cry out and wring my hands in frustration.  The entire hall turns quiet and I can already feel like as if we’re already causing a scene.  

“Have you been acting like an adult?” Iain asks calmly.  I peek at him and find that he looks more disappointed than irate.  He walks closer to me and stops just when we’re almost close to touching, he sticks his hands in his pockets and looks at me levelly.

“Oh. My. God, you’re dating your Baby sitter!” Santana steps out and does a catwalk down the hall as she moves in towards us as she drawls out the obvious except what she doesn’t know is that Iain only posed as that so he could find Neil.  She also doesn’t know that Iain is filthy rich and actually was the creator of one of the apps found on Santana’s Blackberry…..and everyone else’s iPhone.

“Nice seeing you too, Santana.” Iain greets curtly as he acknowledges her presence with a brief nod.  She gets the picture and takes on Iain’s cue as she offers a benevolent smile towards Kitty.

“You see, Kitty.  Is this the girl you look up to and want to become some day?  Someone who comes back home and tells everyone how perfect her little life is in a fancy Ivy League and that she’s dating this older, sophisticated, married man but in reality she’s messing around with the help?”  She emphasizes on the word ‘help’ big time.  Iain doesn’t correct her, in fact he looks just as cool as a cucumber as if he hadn’t heard her insult him.

“I also used to be a substitute teacher,” Iain adds cheerfully as if he enjoys inflicting pain towards Kitty’s already mortified reaction.   “And subbed for Brad, the pianist.  You’ve probably met him, the quiet, boring guy  wearing glasses with the unkempt facial hair who likes to sit around and tinker with black and white keys?  I idolize the man and someday hope to be….Just. Like. Him.”  He enunciates the last three words and then gives Kitty a slow wink as I watch the poor girl screams in terror and runs for the hills. Santana chuckles in the ingenious move.

“I always knew that there was something going on between you two,” Santana murmured as she pats Iain’s shoulder affectionately.  “Ok, carry on.  And you’re welcome.”  She gives both of us a knowing wink as she sashays her way down the hall.

“Are you happy now?” I glare at Iain who looks as if he could care less.  I instead focus my gaze back at my hands because right now I just want to ring them around his neck.

“Absolutely fucking ecstatic.” Iain answers dryly but I can hear the sarcasm dripping down like a leaky faucet.  “Being a mentor to a psychotic teenaged brat who screams Single White Female isn’t exactly your scene anyway.”

“Who told you that?”

“Puck.  So cut the drama and let’s get out of here because I believe that there are some things that we need to say, but I prefer to have it done in private.”  He gently grabs my arm and is about to lead me when I stay firmly in my place and shake my head.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“No?  Would you prefer I haul you up against my shoulder instead?” Iain’s voice remains calm but I can tell that there’s an underlying fury beneath that cold, detached façade he’s carrying. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t push me, Quinn.” Iain’s voice is menacingly soft.  “I’ve had less than two hours sleep and missed out on a chance to witness an important golf match between Bill Gates and the President of Samsung who happens to possess a terrible handicap.”

Oh, so that explains the Caddy boy outfit.  He looks great in anything anyway but right now I’m just so angry at him that I don’t forget myself this time.

“No,” I state stubbornly, I have to make a stand.  He can’t just prance around acting like he’s right and I’m wrong all the time.  He doesn’t have the right to control my life nor does he have to dictate how I should live it.

“Take it or leave it, Lucy Quinn. We are leaving. Now.”  He calls me by my given names when he’s dead serious about something.

“No,” I scowl at him.

He raises his black eyebrows at me.

“No?”

He then half smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.  

“Iain this is ridi—“ the words escape my mouth as he abruptly sweeps down grabs me around my thighs and lifts me easily against his shoulder as if I weighed close to nothing.

“Put me down right this instant!” I scream.  It is absolutely good to scream and I could care less about the look of shock on the faces plastered on the entire New Directions team.  I can see the Puckerman brothers looking on then glancing at each other with a smirk on their lips.  Finn just looks on but seems unperturbed. Sam pretty much has the same nonchalant expression and Joe, well I don’t know.  He just looks on giving me a sympathetic shrug, but I know he’s terrified of my boyfriend to ever butt in.  Iain starts striding down the hall, ignoring me as I attempt to roll myself off, shouting for assistance but sadly even that just go on deaf ears. He swats my behind with his free hand for added effect and I stop squirming and prop my face on my hands.      

Iain saunters down the hall and makes a turn for one of the emergency exits that leads into the parking lot.  He kicks the door behind him and I’m glad he’s careful enough that the door doesn’t slam on my face.  He easily lets me down and pushes me gently against the wall and seizes my shoulders, pinning me effectively so I don’t move.

I don’t even dare move because I'm shaking with fury.  Instead of pushing his hands away I glare at him, but it’s a puny attempt.

“Who’s acting like the adult now?”

Underneath the warm blue brilliant Ohio sky, Iain releases his hands off my shoulders and throws his head back and gives out a crack of laughter. I’m too preoccupied seething in my recent embarrassed hauled-like-a-sack-of-potatoes scene that I don’t find myself laughing along with him.  Instead I put my hands on my hips and give a frown when Iain quickly notices that I’m still upset, he sobers a little.

“You just bring out the best in me.”

“Oh that was definitely cave man behavior right there, Hargreave.”

“My primitive instincts kick in when they concern you,” he says dryly.  “You haven’t answered my question.”

I know he meant about my so-called relationship with the professor.  Every part of his body radiates tension and I could hear the panic behind his voice.  My eyebrows furrow in confusion and sadness when I realize that this must have been the reason why he came all this way to Ohio. “No, it’s not true.” I watch how he visibly relaxes and looks at me questioningly.  “You know it isn’t true because you’ve been the only one since Puck who has….you know, uhm…..” My voice trails and I feel the heat of the blush reaching up my face. This is so embarrassing.  To admit that he’s been the one person I’ve ever made love to, Puck doesn’t count since I was drunk.  Iain’s expression softens and he looks vaguely amused at my attempt to vocalize about our sex life.

“So why did you say those things then?” He whispers and I get this feeling that he thinks it’s because I’m embarrassed to admit our relationship that I respond by shaking my head. He gives a half ghost of a smile as if acknowledging that my transgressions had nothing to do with him. Hasn’t he realized that he’s the best thing I’ve got in my life and I didn’t want that part to linger here in Lima?

“I did it because Santana pushed me.  She accused Kitty of giving that brunette Marley laxatives and I thought it was because she was jealous of me.” “That girl is just bad news,” Iain mutters shaking his head.  I don’t answer him, but somehow I get the feeling that he’s right about Kitty. “So, what do you make of it now?”

Iain’s question takes me by surprise.  It’s one of those firsts where he actually asks my opinion about something that doesn’t even concerns us.  I take a moment to reflect and ponder on Marley.  She reminds me of a frightened little bunny rabbit.  She’s fragile, vulnerable, and looked about to be on the verge of tears whenever Finn mentioned about looking great on stage. I didn’t know her personally but from what I gathered from Kitty, other than her dating the Puckerman boy, her mother was the lunch lady and looked to be the next candidate for The Biggest Loser. Add that to the mix made her quite the oddball in McKinley.  However, unlike Rachel Berry who was filled with a good sense of self-delusion, this one actually cared what others thought about her.  For once, it was one of those qualities about Rachel that irked me because she was a strong girl who could give a toss because she had hopes and aspirations of moving out of Lima and making something out of herself.  No, Marley didn’t have that fighting streak in her. In fact, she was a lot similar to someone I once knew and hated for the longest time.  

Lucy Caboosey.

“I think Santana may be right about Marley being bulimic.  But Kitty?  I just…”

“Open you eyes, Quinn,” Iain encourages gently.  “This isn’t high school anymore.  You’re no longer that snarky little girl who picked on Rachel Berry and wanted to date the star quarterback so you could win the Homecoming title.  You don’t have to feel guilty about it, that’s all in the past. Didn’t you notice the way Kitty was looking at Marley when you found me at the hallway?  And by the way she just threw herself at me as if staking a claim?”

I swallow and nod, digesting everything Iain says.  I did notice Kitty sometimes throw envious looks at Marley, especially whenever she was with Puck’s younger brother.  I was too distracted by Iain to notice how possessive Kitty was around him that she had actually thrown the same expression.  I don’t know much about Kitty Wilde.  In fact, the girl has been blabbering on and on about how much she idolized me that I didn’t really know if she was truly genuine because while she had been singing my praises, she never at least once revealed anything about herself and her character.   I had been her once, but somehow I knew that a huge part of me related to Marley with her insecurities.  Kitty apparently had a backbone.  I also recalled the sneer on her face when Iain tossed me over his shoulder, almost as if she had disapproved of me because of my relationship with Iain as she had mistakingly thought of him as hired help.

“You’re right,” I agree. “Kitty is one terrible little bitch. So what can I do about it?”

“Well, you can start by telling Santana that you believe her.” He cocks his head to the side as he looks at me.  “I may never understand the friendship you have with her, but I think Santana’s a good person that she does give a shit about Marley’s condition.”

“Is that the reason why you came all the way here?  Because you thought I slept with a married professor and you were worried about some girl you barely know?”

“I came here because I know you needed me and I felt ……guilty when I rejected your offer to spend Thanksgiving with your family.  I realize now that it is important to you. Therefore, it should have mattered.”

I look at him wordlessly. So this is it.  Iain’s half-given apology and admittance that he was in the wrong was what brought him here.  But somehow it doesn’t explain why he looked concerned especially for Marley’s sake. There was something here I wasn’t picking up on yet.  Then I recalled the story of why Genevieve separated Iain from his mother.  She didn’t exactly spell everything out, and this was my chance to finally get a glimpse of it.  Go on, my subconscious urges as my inner Cheerio and Queen Bee both nod in unison, ask him.  But the thing is, I could but I don’t because I know he isn’t ready to open that painful part of his past just yet.

“It does because the last time I invited a boy for dinner, he sang to my parents about standing by my pregnancy and my father threw me out of the house.” My voice goes hoarse with emotion and my throat starts to ache as I try to choke back the tears that start welling up.  I hear a breath of intake from Iain and his eyes widen with an emotion that I can’t quite comprehend.  He understands, but he also looks furious about something.  He says nothing but wraps his arms around me and I fold as I take in his warm embrace.  I rest my head against his chest, inhaling the scent of him mixed with his aftershave, thinking how much I missed him, and letting it comfort me.

The truth is, my being thrown out of Casa de Fabray isn’t that bad….well, not anymore anyway.  It used to hurt, but somehow it all feels like a distant memory.  I lean into his muscular frame, taking in the strength as he buries his face in my hair taking in as much of me as I did him.   We’re silent for the longest time and I know he’s doing this to comfort me but I feel as if it’s more on his behalf. We stay like this for a little while longer when he suddenly breaks his silence.  

“It seems that I might have delayed us from joining your friends on their pilgrimage to Sectionals.”

“We can definitely catch up,” I say as I remind him that I brought my car.

“You’re driving again?”

“How else was I supposed to get here?” I ask, but note that his eyes narrow when I mentioned that I was driving again.

“Point taken,” Iain says grimly.  “Next time, I’m adding chauffer driven car to your incentives.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “Incentives?  Another part of your Iain Hargreave package?”

His mouth quirks in a half smirk.  “Consider it a bonus.  Or rather a compensation for my indiscretion earlier.”

“Are we pertaining to the ‘haul Quinn’s ass up my shoulder’ incident?”

“Oh no, that was payback for letting me worry about you.”

“That was Puck’s fault! He was the one who ratted on me.”

“Yes, well be glad that he did otherwise I would have been miserable in the Hamptons thinking only about you.”

“That is quite an outfit you’re wearing, Hargreave.  Do you know what I was thinking about when I first saw you in this?”  I tug playfully at his Lacoste polo shirt as he grins and shakes his head.  “I was thinking that you look young to pass out as a senior here.  And if things were different and this was high school, I would’ve fallen in love with you.  I wouldn’t ever have dated Finn nor would have cheated on you with Puck.  I would’ve given you my virginity and if we had gotten pregnant, I knew you would have been there to support me.”

“You bet the hell I would have.  I also would have thrown your father’s ass out of your house before he had a chance to throw you out.” Iain answers flatly.  

“That’s my father you’re talking about.” I throw him a mortified look.

Iain shakes his head, he still looks furious about the whole thing.  “And it was an irresponsible thing for him to do.  What kind of a man throws out his daughter to ‘save face’ because she made an error in judgment?  You needed your family’s support and it was denied from you when it mattered.”  He tilts his head and looks at me earnestly as his hands thread through my hair, sifting through the soft strands.  “But there’s no use in wishing for things that’s already happened. You made it through and it’s that quality in you is what makes me in awe of you.  I always thought of you as strong and that you could do things without me because I feared that it would suffocate you.” He whispers as his hands suddenly cradle my face, his eyes so tender that I lean against the warmth of his touch.

Now it’s my turn to shake my head.  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I whispered.  “I’ll always need you.”

  Suddenly, everything else fell away.  Everything else ceased to exist.  Sudden hot tears brim from my eyes as Iain crushes me against his chest.

“I’ve realized lately that I need you just as much because I love you,” he says before he leans over and we were about to kiss when we were interrupted with the voices coming from the door as it swings open.  I jump in surprise and Iain glowers at ‘our audience’ which pretty much was the entire New Directions group.

“Do you two ever get tired of making out?” Santana asks irritably, but I can detect a lack of acid in her voice.  “Because we kinda need a ride since Finn couldn’t rent out a school bus.”  Their grins were infectious because Iain found his first grin for that day.

“Sure, we can do better than that.” Iain fishes out his car keys and presses a button.  A car behind us makes a resounding alarm.

“THAT’s yours?” Kitty’s eyes bug out at the silver Audi 4 door convertible.  Her jaw is literally hanging open as she looks stupefied at the possibility that Iain’s filthy rich.

“Yep,” Iain throws in the key at Mike’s direction.  “Try not to scratch it, Chang.”

“Deal,” he smiles ecstatically as Mercedes calls in shotgun while Puck ambles in at the backseat.

“You weren’t just Quinn’s babysitter were you?” Santana asks.  I give her a half smile and she catches it and nods, acknowledging our truce. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m her boyfriend.” he says simply, his lips brushing against the top of my head.      

*                *                *

We arrive just in time as the announcer presents the judges.  The crowd’s bustling with excitement and it feels strange not only because I’m now part of the audience, but also because I’m just a bunch of nerves. I guess I’ll never get tired of the feeling especially for this new group of New Directions.  As Puck, Santana, Mercedes and Mike take their cued seats and find that we’re lacking, I motion to another empty space where Iain and I settle in a few rows behind the group.   I give his hand a squeeze in excitement and he turns and grins back as he returns the squeeze.  

The Dalton Academy Warblers are first.  Surprisingly, it isn’t Sebastian taking in the rein but this new guy whom I’ve never recognized from last year.  He’s weird in an evil James Bond villain kind of way but it also takes me in by surprise that the Warblers have improved tremendously.  

“I bet you must have been cute wearing a Prep boy’s school uniform.” I find myself leaning over and whispering that comment in his ear.

He shrugs and throws me a sideways glance.  “My jacket would’ve looked thrice better on you than it did me.”  

“Is that so?”  I ask mischievously, my inner Cheerio is hugging herself happily.  The Warblers move on to their second song and I happen to notice that Sebastian is frequently looking our way.  He dances a little more enthusiastically than usual and is smiling and giving subliminal winks, more centered towards Iain’s oblivious direction.   I frown and grab my boyfriend’s arm possessively.  Iain turns and throws me a concerned look as I hastily explain about Kurt’s nemesis.

“That’s Sebastian. He’s gay and I think he’s into to you.”

“What?  That’s crazy.” He looks quickly at Sebastian, who notices the attention and this time is grinning like the Cheshire Cat that anytime soon, he’s about to do backflips like his Evil James Bond Villain co-Warbler.  Iain turns back his attention to me and I flush happily knowing that I know who he’ll always belong to.

“I mean, he’s like really crazy.  In an evil Cruel Intentions meets Dangerous Liaisons kind of way. “

“Quelle dommage pour il because I’m not interested.  We both know I don’t swing that way.”

“So which direction do you swing?”  I teased as I take in that irrepressible unruly lock of dark brown black hair of his that just never stays in place.  I reach out and attempt to fix it.  

“Yours.”

Aww, he always says the cutest things.

I reward him by throwing my arms around him and give him a kiss that’s both possessive, tender, and with a need that makes him respond equally just when the whole crowd is shouting with excitement now that the song is over, but neither of us care.   I open my eyes and glance at Sebastian who tries to cover his disappointment by smiling a little too brightly.  I can also hear chuckles and guffaws behind us and we hastily break off.  I’m flustered and try to fix an imaginary misplaced strand of hair as Iain throws his arm around me and pulls me closer towards him as we watch the next act.  It’s a group of Amish students from Rosedale, and I instantly recognize that they pose no threat to the New Directions.  I grin amusedly and find myself laughing and clapping along to “She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain”.

“Remind me to accompany you more often to events like these,” he says as he gives off one of those knee knocking boyish smiles.  “I haven’t seen you this carefree.”

“I wasn’t like this before,” I admit and give another huge round of applause when the group ends their number.  “Not until you.”

Iain is about to say more when the announcer then mentions the New Directions are up next.   The whole crowd cheers on as I do and they burst in a myriad of black and gold singing to the Korean pop song Gangnam Style. Tina does an impressive job and I could tell that Puck’s younger brother has got moves rivaling those of Mike Chang’s. Iain raises an eyebrow in surprise as I’ve never even mentioned the number that they’re performing.  I smile proudly watching Kitty give one of the old geezers my signature “come hither” wink and I know these guys have got it in the bag.  The boys rip out the confetti and the crowd just goes insane.

That is until the climatic end when Marley faints.  

*                *                *

Marley ***

It’s my entire fault.

We lost no thanks to me.

Everyone has pretty much left, Jake tried to offer me a ride home but I felt as if I didn’t deserve even his sympathy.  I know my Mom’s worried about me and it was a miracle that I wasn’t brought in the hospital from my fainting spell.  I sit alone in the steps trying to block out the things that went on by but it’s no use. My eyes well up in tears and sniffling again I bend my head and close my eyes tightly praying that this was just a bad dream and that I would wake up eventually.

I open my eyes but with a sinking feeling that I am not dreaming.  I resort again to crying with heartbroken gulps when a voice--- deep, rich, distinctly male filled with quiet authority tinged with sympathy speaks to me. “Marley, right?”  I nod as he approaches me, his steps assured with a confidence rarely found in a guy his age.  I’m guessing that he’s probably in his early twenties as he’s wearing an expensive Lacoste polo shirt, white linen pants and beat up black gray vans that make him look like he had just stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog.  In fact, he looked even better than most male models I’ve seen at the ads.  I gulp back thinking that he probably even has the muscle for it and I look away before he sees me blush thinking of his bronzed tanned chest and six pack abs underneath that shirt.

“Can I sit beside you?”

Shock sends me surging to my feet but because I’m too weak it just reaches my throat.  I nod wordlessly as the handsome young man sits beside me.  He’s tall, around six foot two inches with a shock of dark black brown hair and piercing blue eyes that makes me even more uncomfortable and self-conscious than ever.  He raises his arm slowly and offers me a scarlet red handkerchief that looks soft, and made out of the finest silk.  “T-thank you,” I whisper reverently taking the billowing thing from his fine, tanned masculine and well manicured hand and offer him a teary smile of gratitude as I dab it at my eyes.  Not certain of what to do or what was expected I hold it out to him.

He smiles as he shakes his head and waves an air of dismissal.  “Keep it.”

“Thanks.”

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”  The man asks, and I note for the first time that though I know he’s American, he speaks with a slight accent, but I couldn’t tell if it’s British but there’s something distinct about the way he pronounces the words like want as “wont” and talk as “tawk” that makes me start to wonder where he grew up.  I then realize that this was the same guy who came in McKinley and hauled Quinn Fabray up against his shoulder like an angry primal Greek God.  He even has the handsome features of one.  

As I look closer, although he casually dressed, he’s slightly older than I thought, probably close to twenty five but the smile he’s wearing on his face now makes him look younger in a ridiculously good looking boyish quality that most guys his age and younger could never pull off.  Also, he sounds more sophisticated and worldly to be just the housekeeper that Santana assumes he was earlier.  Plus the fact that he had come by school earlier driving an expensive top down convertible sports car was more of a slap on Kitty’s face as she had been openly drooling at the sight of him the moment he stepped in the halls of McKinley High. But another nagging thought bothers me: why is he alone wasting his time talking to me and not spending it kissing Quinn like he did when they thought they were alone outside the school’s yard?

“You’re Quinn’s boyfriend.” I say because I’m too shy to voice out my opinion and to question why he’s here and not with his beautiful, blonde girlfriend.

“Call me Iain.  How are you feeling?”

“Like crap.  I just blew our chances at Sectionals.” He shrugs nonchalantly.  “There’s always next year,” then he hunkers down closer as if to divulge a secret and looks sideways to see if anyone’s listening in. “Just between you and me, I don’t think the New Directions would’ve won favors singing a song that nobody honestly understands except if you’re Korean which unfortunately none of the judges were.  Well maybe except for that obituary guy, he looks old enough to have survived the First World War.”

In spite of myself, I giggle.  It’s the first time I’ve been able to relax in the past few days.  I’m tired and haven’t had sleep and feel weak.  I know I’m supposed to feel totally conscious about getting attention especially from some guy who could give any Hollywood A-list heartthrob actor a run for his money in the looks department, but somehow because Iain doesn’t belong in McKinley nor is he a part of the New Directions it makes me think of something else other than my recent muck.  I relax a little and find myself doubling over in hilarity, but when I do I feel lightheaded again and Iain quickly steadies me until I signal him to let me go.  He nods curtly and searches for something in his pocket.

“Here, have this.” He hands me a tiny gold sachet shaped like a bottle which he breaks the top first before I take it.

“It’s an energy gel,” he explains patiently when he notices my confused expression.  “I use it whenever I do long distance runs and can’t eat anything.  It won’t taste as bad unlike most because its chocolate flavored.  Trust me, Marley you need one now because you look like you’re about to keel over again anytime.

I hesitate for a second but shrug and follow through.  Iain was right about it tasting good.  I take in the chocolate goodness as I hungrily swallow and consume the entire contents. At least my stomach has ceased its grumbling.  I feel a bit peppier now and throw him a grateful glance.

“Why are you being so nice? You hardly know me.  Quinn’s probably looking over for you.” “She’s busy lecturing her protégé.” Iain answers, however I get this feeling that he won’t tell me that his girlfriend is probably give Kitty hell now because he knows it isn’t any of his business and he’s far too much of a gentleman to admit it anyway.  “I’m not doing this to be nice, Marley.  You just…….remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“My mother.  You don’t look like her, but you have a certain quality in your eyes that remind me of her.  Hers was big blue and kind just like yours.”

I note with alarm that Iain’s speaking in the past tense.  Before I ask him more he hastily explains.  “She died from cancer, it was a long time ago.  But that’s not the only thing you have in common with my mother. She also made herself sick by throwing up whatever she ate.”

“Iain, I never—“

“Don’t lie to me,” Iain snaps and I flinch at the tone of his voice.  It was clipped, authoritative, with an obvious contemptuous superiority that makes me feel antagonized and humiliated.  Iain notices my reaction and he amends by grimacing as tilts his head slightly as if to apologize and softens his voice.  “What I meant was I know that you do Marley. Look at your hands.  I’m guessing you’re also right handed because there are chips on your index and middle fingernails and they’re also a shade darker than your other nails because that’s from the acid that’s regurgitated from your throat. Also because of that acid that’s been passing through your throat, you might have noticed that your voice isn’t what it used to be, it’s probably gone hoarse for a while hasn’t it?  That’s why you’re so afraid you’d fuck up with Sectionals because you’re afraid the judges would notice.  Your skin’s dry and pallid because you’re dehydrated and your hair looks stiff and brittle from lack of nourishment.  You were lucky that you recovered quickly otherwise you might have been sent in to the Emergency Room to have intravenous fluids reach you before you die.”

“How do you know all this?”

He gives out a long resounding sigh as if it’s taking him a supreme effort to be patient.  However judging by the look of pain etched on his handsome face, I realize that the attempt was not for my sake but for his. It dawns on me that this topic is painful for him and I can see that there’s more to this story than he wants to let on.

“I was a very young when it happened.  I watched my mother lock herself inside a bathroom for an hour’s end after eating and I would stand by her door and keep an eye out for her.  There were days on end when she had to paint her fingernails black so nobody would notice how brittle they’ve become or the acid stains on the finger’s she used to induce her vomiting.  I did all I could to stop her from destroying herself….but it was…….useless.”  His voice goes hard for a moment and then he composes himself when he notices that I’m looking at him.  He clears his throat and smiles at me instead.  “We’re not here to talk about my past, but I would like to know why.”

I knew he was referring to why I did it.  For some apparent nameless reason, I felt like in some way we were kindred spirits in a twisted karma plot.  Almost as if he needed to hear it in my own words the things that his mother should have told him if he had been old enough and like he needed some sort of redemption as to give me advice not just for my sake, but also as a way for him to vent out the things he should have said to his mother.  My heart goes out for Iain and for the first time, I find myself opening up that the words just flow right out of my mouth easily that it takes me by surprise how honest I could be with a complete stranger.

“I was selfish and insecure because I didn’t fit right into my clothes.   I was a nervous wreck and the pressure was getting to me.”

“How can you be so insecure? You’re talented and beautiful.” He looks dumbfounded and perplexed by the notion that I could act this way.

“You think I’m beautiful? Have you seen my mother?” The hysteria bubbles through me as I feel the panic again settling in.  Instead of fleeing as I initially would have, Iain looks at me in a way that hypnotizes me to stay put.  He doesn’t touch me but looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. I feel naked and exposed by his scrutiny.

“Yes you are beautiful and so is your mother, whatever it is people say she looks like.” He says in such humbled honesty that my eyes bug out.  This gorgeous Greek god with the cobalt blue eyes thinks I’m beautiful?  I know I’ve been showered with praises by Brody and Jake, but the way Iain says it makes me believe in his sincerity.  He says it because he accepts it as the truth, not because he has something to gain or because he finds me attractive. This alone takes me by surprise.

“I take it you haven’t received much compliments from a paternal figure.”

He understands, he actually does get it.  I nod wordlessly and was about to ask him how he knew, but he reads my mind quickly and supplies, “She was an orphan.  Her father was sentenced in prison for being involved in a Ponzi scam and while her mother was too busy raising her and her twin on her own that she eventually gave up and ran too.  For a while, she had lived in foster homes and relied heavily on her twin sister to survive.  But despite the hardships she faced, my mother was the sweetest, kindest person you’ll ever meet. She never wished ill of anyone nor did she like to hurt people’s feelings.  However, she was also very weak and susceptible that she succumbed to the pressures of the world that she took it out on herself.  She never realized that when she did, she was not only endangering her own life, but was hurting the people who loved her most.”

“And that included you,” I add correctly guessing from the anguish that he’s trying desperately to suppress.

“Yes,” he answers tightly.

“I’m sorry.” Is all I could say and I honestly don’t know what I’m apologizing for. If it’s Iain’s sad story or because for once I never realized that being bulimic not only was self-destructive but that I’ve in effectively hurt the people who mattered the most to me.  My mom, Jake, Brody, the entire New Directions whom I’ve let down because I was weak.  I see the pain in Iain’s eyes and I knew deep in my heart that my apology was actually meant more for him than it did for me.  I reach out and touch his arm giving it a little squeeze and he looks nonplussed and rewards me with a ghost of a smile as if saying that I’m forgiven.  

We sit in silence, accepting that our sins of omission have finally been liberated and not a moment sooner, I glimpse Quinn Fabray walking slowly towards us.  She’s more beautiful than Kitty will ever be, I note as she walks in a red and white floral dress and sparkly red pumps that looks like it came from a high fashion designer label and a large expensive manly leather jacket that I assume is Iain’s.  Her long, straight blonde hair is immaculately perfect and her white porcelain skin is clear that I start to think that if ever she ended up with Iain in the long run, they were going to have such gorgeous babies.  I quickly remove my hand from Iain’s arm as he steadily watches her walking towards us.  She looks calm and contained, but I knew that from her narrowed gaze that she looks slightly jealous and I’m actually afraid that she’ll kick my head in for touching her man.  She does relax a bit when I’ve given her a guilty apologetic look as she stops in front of us with an angelic smile on her face.

“Well, I guess Kitty’s going to be leaving you alone for a while.” Quinn says smoothly but even though I know she’s talking to me, she never lets her gaze falter from Iain who looks noncommittal but I seriously detect a sizzle underneath those frosty stares they’re exchanging.  I mumble something about my mom looking for me and hastily move away from the couple. Iain just quickly nods as if dismissing me and when I’m a few feet distance away from them, I turn my head and smile gratefully at the man whom I just believed saved my life while I redeemed his.

*               *                *

Quinn

***

I’ve just given Kitty hell about the whole Marley situation.  I quickly patched things up with Santana backstage and we both go full on the little brat who had just ruined their chances at Sectionals.  Iain was right about her being a fine piece of work, the girl was a remarkably good actress, claiming that she was just helping Marley who took it too much further.  The truth was, bullshit like that never worked on me because I invented that whole sham act I tell her as her eyes blaze in fury that changed her into something evil.  Like Sue Sylvester when she was much younger, I simper thinking just how wrong she was to think I was anything like her.  I adored the woman once, but seeing this kind of destruction on such selfish deeds made me sick to my stomach that I started to wonder how was it  that I could have been so blind and think that those two were anything like me?  

I would have never done this to Rachel Berry.  Never!

Even though there was that time I had nearly convinced her to get a nose job.  Hey, it would have definitely been an improvement in my defense. Plus didn’t she say something about it also improving her voice octave?

But something like this, destructive in a manipulative way was like a like to a man’s groin.  It was definitely below the belt.  I was used to stage-managing things to work my way, but these days the taste of it feels like it’s gone dry and left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth that I just couldn’t comprehend why.

Iain was right about me letting go of my past.  I’m no longer that Cheerio who craved being the center of attention and wanted to be Prom Queen.  I wasn’t the angry teenager acting out because she had just ruined her life by becoming pregnant.  No longer did I feel the need for Beth, or the need to don the Cheerio uniform or be whoever people thought Quinn Fabray was in Lima, Ohio.

I am growing up.

Finally, Lucy Quinn Fabray, you have matured into a respectable adult, my subconscious gives a gallant bow of acknowledgement.  My inner Cheerio smiles ruefully but this time she’s no longer wearing the red and white cheerleader outfit and has her hair tied up in a high pony.  Instead the new Quinn is calmer, serene, and almost channeling Kate Middleton as she wears her hair loose letting the golden curls wave to perfection and is clad in an elegant blue violet Prada dress and Christian Louboutin skyscraper heels that sparkled in white and gold as I find myself thinking that it would be the most perfect dress to wear on Thanksgiving.

Iain would definitely love seeing me wear this!  I smile giddy inside thinking of the possibilities of him trying to sneak me away from my parents and Fran that I find myself searching high and low for him. I don’t know how long I’ve been walking or how many minutes have gone by from my search that I’ve found myself stepping outside and almost walking into the couple who were lounging easily by the steps.  My heart stills for a moment when I see Iain sitting comfortably beside a pale wisp of a girl with brown hair as they talk in companionable ease.  Relax, he’s not hitting on Marley, my former inner Cheerio is now known as Grown-Up Quinn who steadies my arm and clucks her tongue disapprovingly. Just look at his face and you’ll know what they’re talking about, she urges.

And it takes a supreme effort on my part, dreading the pain and jealousy twisting my heart but as I turn to look for once my man wasn’t focused on me, I watch as a myriad of emotions pass through Iain’s face.  For once, he isn’t his usual contained mercurial self.  I see a vulnerability etched with pain and loss. The last time I’ve seen him like this was when I was at the hospital during my accident when I thought I could never walk again.  I strain my ears to hear what they’re saying, but sadly even I can’t read their lips at this distance.  He’s breathing heavily, almost like as if a bullet was lodged from his chest and was about to be removed.  Marley looks on wordlessly sympathetic and apologetic at the same time an then it dawns on me that she isn’t even looking at him in a way that most girls usually have.

She understands where he’s coming from.

Suddenly, I recall the encounter I had with Genevieve a few months ago.  

“I deemed Iain’s mother unfit to raise him.  Perhaps that had been my mistake. She wasn’t strong enough to handle the pressures of being married to a man like his father.  Maybe someday, he’ll be able to explain the details of his past.”  

Could this be it?  The one thing linking him to his past?  I wasn’t dumb enough to assume that somewhere along the lines Iain also had another half-sister in Marley considering that they looked nothing alike except they both had blue eyes.  But Iain’s was darker and shone like dark sapphires whilst Marley’s was light blue like marbles.  They couldn’t be related but somehow the conversation they shared was so personal they seemed like kindred spirits.

Suddenly, I felt jealous and hurt thinking as of why Iain wouldn’t share his pain with me.  I was sick and tired of waiting I found myself walking towards them, ignoring the pleas coming from Grown-Up Quinn who wobbles at my wake, apparently she’s going to need some time to get used to wearing five inch heels and my subconscious who rolls her eyes, having given up on me for the longest time when I know I want something.  

 I keep my control for the sake of Marley.  The poor girl looks exhausted and probably will have to eventually face the angry mob that is Tina Cohen-Chang who is apparently pissed that her first solo minus Rachel Berry became an absolute flop.   Not that I wanted to hurt Tina’s already busted feelings, but there was no way that they were going to win singing a song that nobody knows what it really means.  In fact, I have no clue as to what Gangnam Style is or how if it has anything to do with the dance moves or if it was a manner of dress.    I didn’t feel like pointing out that this was Finn’s fault either for picking out such a horrible number.  He’s new to the whole being the new musical director thing since Mister Schuester left.

   I have a feeling that Grown-Up Quinn’s maturity index is highly infectious that I’m now rationalizing things.  

I focus instead to Iain who’s looking at me warily.  Marley slips away from us and neither of us notice her departure.

“Are you done here?” I ask calmly.

“Yes.”

“I got off in time to watch you talk to Marley,” I say trying to cover the possessiveness in my voice but I know I’ve failed that seeing Iain raise his eyebrow.  “If it’s not too much to ask, could you care to indulge me on what you two were talking about if it’s not too personal?”

“We were talking about her.”

“There seemed to be a lot more sharing on your part.”

“Hmm.” He tipped his head and looked at me as I sat down beside him.  I then start to think that it had to be fate that I had chanced upon his great-grandmother telling me that she felt responsible for separating Iain from his mother when he was younger and now witnessing him and Marley divulge in a secret that I knew had a much deeper meaning which didn’t concern the girl who had just blown her chances at Sectionals.  Now’s your chance, Quinn.  My inner Queen Bitch has now morphed into a more assertive mature version of myself.  She’s still dressed in the same cute, girly outfits, but this time she’s wearing moon-shaped plastic black spectacles and has her hair pulled back out into a tight ponytail and is now known as Miss Assertive.  Go ahead and push him into telling you!!

“What did Genevieve mean that she thought that your mother was unfit to raise you?  Is this why you’ve been acting so concerned about Marley?”

More silence.

“You know, this conversation is about as painful as having my teeth pulled out,” I snap.

“Then maybe we should change the subject,” Iain suggested helpfully.

I stand up from the steps and turn around to face him.

“Iain, please don’t shut me out.  You promised you would never leave me, but how am I expected to stay if you won’t be honest with me?  You said it takes a leap of blind faith to love someone and here I am doing just that. Now it’s your turn.”

He rose to his feet. “My, aren’t you the therapist of the day?”  He tilts his head to look at me but I’m so angry I turn my head and wrap my arms around myself.

“No, of course not,” I deny that statement hastily without realizing then that I myself am not being as honest.  “Okay, fine. Maybe a little.”

“I hurt your feelings again,” he said softly as he takes in my chin for him to look at him.  I budge eventually an gaze into the apology written on his face and the sincerity of his deep blue eyes.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” He pulls me up against his chest, wrapping his arms around me.  “I don’t know why in God’s name do I fuck up and keep shutting you out, but I sure as hell don’t deserve anyone as good as you.”

I lean into him, loving the feel of his warm, muscular body and the scent of his mixed with aftershave, bodywash, shampoo and him.  He rubs my back in a manner that’s comforting and yet I get this feeling he’s doing this for his own benefit than mine.  He takes a deep breath and swallows.

“My mother was bulimic, Quinn. I guess you were partially right about my concern for Marley because she reminded me of her.”

My eyes widen in horror.

Oh my.

This is bad. I fully understand now why Genevieve opted not to tell me this story.  I lean back and gaze at him, waiting for him to explain. I don’t say anything because he continues on his ‘prepared soliloquy as if he’d practice this opening salvo for days and is desperate to be rid of it.

“My mother was a ballet dancer, so there was a certain figure that she had to maintain and she would make herself sick enough to lose all the weight.  She stopped when she met my father and everyone thought that things were going on well.  But she couldn’t handle the pressure.  She was so unhappy with my father, because he was always away.  She was lonely and depressed that she started making herself sick again.  I was a toddler back then so I wasn’t much help either but I knew that she locked herself in the bathroom to throw up and I would just sit behind the door and cry, begging her to open the door until she came out.  At first, nobody noticed because she was naturally slim, but when I had gotten older, people started talking.  The rest of my family didn’t believe them.  They easily blamed it on the stress from all the social functions that my mother hosted and attended.  Then on the morning of my fifth birthday, my mother was preparing me my favorite cake.  It was a triple fudge Devil’s Food cake.  I remember even telling her that it was going to be the best birthday ever.  I knew she was feeling sad because my father couldn’t make it to my birthday that I wanted to make her feel better.” He drew out a shaky breath.  “I told her I loved her, and that afternoon during my party, she fainted and was rushed to the hospital.  She was so weak and dehydrated that the nurses had some difficulty starting her on venous fluids and the doctors at the emergency room had to give her rapid bolus drips because they feared that she would have died right there.”

I let out a gasp of shock. I knew I recalled asking Iain if he remembered his mother and he said that he barely did, but I had no idea that he lived with a memory like this and had to block it despite feeling its terrible aftereffects through the years.  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper as I hug him tighter.  I close my eyes and try to imagine a little boy with tousled dark, brown black hair and big dark blue eyes crying and knocking on a bathroom door, begging his mother to come out because he was so worried for her.  Tears fall unabashedly as I weep not for the man holding me in his arms, but for the youth that he had been and how traumatic it must have been to live in hell for an innocent child who must’ve been alone and depressed thinking it was all his fault that he couldn’t save her.

“So am I.  I’m sorry for my mother, who was unhappy, sorry for my father who didn’t show her he loved her enough, sorry for everything that transpired thereafter that made me doubt in ever loving someone.  Until you came along, that is.”

“Iain, I—“

“Promise me you’ll never be like her.  I’m not like my father.  I won’t leave you.  That’s why I’m here and I wanted you to know that because I love you.”

I nod and gaze at the sadness in his eyes.  He gently wipes a stray tear with the back of his knuckles.

“Yes,” I whisper achingly as I put both my hands on his face.  “I love you, too.”  A low groan tears from Iain’s chest as he smothers my mouth with his.  He kisses me fiercely, passionately, then tenderly all reflecting that he could never get enough of me.  I respond with the same fervor and return it as if it could erase every sad memory we ever possessed but I knew that could never be enough and that the only thing we have is here and now.  And right now all I care about is the man who I’m desperately in love with, more so after his confession about his earliest childhood memory that left him traumatized.  At last he drags his mouth from mine and holds me in his arms, pressing me against the rapid pounding of his heart.  He doesn’t move for several minutes and when I raise my face to look at him, he gives me a weak smile.

  Wait!!!  You thought it was over did you? I added another bonus, this time with Iain befriending Artie.  Enjoy.

 ***

As they walked into a huge paneled room, Artie noticed that there were no windows just large tiles plastered from ceiling and floor that just by looking at it seemed hard to distinguish which was up and which way was down. It reminded him of a chamber that could have been found in a computer game like the ones Sam and Jake Puckerman enjoyed playing.  He turned over to the towering man with a shock of brown-black hair and startling blue eyes.

“What is this place?”

Iain Hargreave gave off a lazy half-smile as he scanned the room.  “This is one of the training grounds used for potential test pilots for NASA.” He pauses and nods to a group of people who approach him eagerly.  Some are donned in lab coats while the others look like pilot cadets in their shiny space-like suits.  “Over the years, it’s been expensive to shoulder cadets with living and travel expenses that NASA has decided to expand their horizons so Ohio seemed like the perfect candidate.  Besides,” he smiled wryly.  “Unlike Chicago, Wisconsin, Michigan, and New York taxes are lower so it’s another win for the people who work here.”

“Is this the anti-gravity chamber?” Artie’s eyes bug in disbelief as he looks on in wonder.  

“Actually, they call it a micro gravity chamber,” Iain corrects him.  “Technically there is still gravity present in the room, but it’s been reduced significantly that it can maintain a body weighing less than 200 kilos suspended in air.” “How’s that different from a drop off point tower?”

He raises a dark eyebrow and looks slightly impressed by Artie’s knowledge of aeronautic physics. “Drop off towers test weightlessness, but the principle of dropping a human from a ‘theoretic’ cliff isn’t exactly a good way to test it.  But yes, this in fact is the by-product of this.  In fact, it’s the first one ever built.  It would definitely be the less expensive alternative astronaut training since the only other way to simulate weightlessness is by flying an aircraft stimulating G force and inertia.  Another plus is that the effects are far longer than 12 seconds.  A person inside a microgravity chamber can maintain a state of weightlessness for at least an hour.” He speaks with such pride that makes Artie ask the next question.  

“Did you invent it?”

Iain chuckles as his hard handsome stern face relaxes slightly.  “As much as I’m flattered you’d ever think me as that much of a genius, Artie, no I did not.” He nods to the group of lab coats.  “They did.  I was only responsible for the funding and using the technology to develop an anti-gravity treadmill that could be used to rehabilitate runners, the elderly, and..”

“People who suffered trauma and have learn how to walk again,” Artie finishes now looking at Iain differently.  He did this for her, he thought as he gained new respect for the man who won Quinn Fabray’s heart.  He was now truly happy for her because she was like a friend to him for that short period when she herself was in a wheelchair.  However, unlike Artie, she was able to stand and get back up thanks to that machine ‘Bruce Wayne’ patented.

He notices the look on Arties face and says quietly that only the two of them could hear.  “Artie, if I could have made things different back then, I would have.  The technology and the timing just wasn’t there when you needed it and for that I am sorry.  But I hope that both could now at least compensate even for just the briefest of minutes.”

“What do you mean? Being in this chair is a part of who I am.”

Iain Hargreave looks stunned for the briefest moments as he gains a humbled respect for the boy in the wheelchair who has more courage than he ever will.  He nods and clears his throat because for the longest time he really didn’t know what to say.  He was raised in a cold, stark environment despite the rich, glamorous life style; but he had always reached out and helped those who were less fortunate than he was.  He also knew the workings of a mind of the business men and those he dealt with and knew how to handle people relations and was good on reading people’s action.   Iain had this feeling that Artie was like those stubborn businessmen who were too proud admit their sad condition. He expected that reaction, but not this scene where the boy tells him now serenely with the sincerest expression on his face that he was happy in a wheelchair as he would have been if he had still been able to walk.

“Have you ever considered that while you’re up there,” he nods towards the heavens, “your legs won’t matter?”

Artie lifts his head and just when he does, the black panels glow on the ceiling glow and each turns on like a flat screen TV displaying an array of stars.  He looks on in awed wonder now that the wall panels have gone and done the same thing.

“Pretty neat, huh?  It impresses me too every time,” Iain says dryly, but he’s actually smiling.  He then swiftly introduces him to a tall, powerfully built older man who reminded Artie of Clint Eastwood in an orange space suit.  “This is Captain Robert Reynolds.  He was one of the astronauts present during NASA’s flight to Mars. He’s going to walk you through the simulator.”

Artie was speechless. For the first time, he was going to be able to know what it feels like to be weightless, and he was going to be just like everyone present in this particular room, people who were built like athletes struggle around in an almost zero gravity state.  Iain was right that his legs wouldn’t matter, because he and these people present would all just be equals underneath a dark, starlit sky. It wasn’t close to walking again, or being able to dance.

This was so much better.

One of lab rats has removed him off his wheelchair and Captain Reynolds is carrying him like as if he was already weightless as he easily briefs him in on the procedures of what’s about to happen, just as Artie turns around to thank Iain, he notices the young man turn toward the door as one of the senior lab rats follows his trail.

“What about you?  Aren’t you going to hang around?”

Iain turns around and grins wryly. “I’m afraid of heights.”

[mareehsays]

Past Draft/New Post

So the post below the lines, I wrote a while ago, some time before my birthday of last year. It was in draft for the longest time, but I decided to post it since it is relevant to what I am typing out today.

It still hasn’t changed much.

He changes a few things, then it reverts. Then it’s the same again.

Then I get mad and either I just give in so things can run again or I tell him to leave and he ends up apologizing and telling me not to leave him.

For the lack of better words, I feel stuck. Mostly because of society and it’s demented way of seeing things.

If I pull away, I’m a bad person. 

If I pull away, I must not love him enough.

If I pull away, I’m heartless and I don’t care for my kids.

If I pull away, I’m not trying hard enough.

If I pull away, I’m the enemy, I’m the one that must be the bitch.

Honestly, when in life can I finally start thinking about ME? M.E. My whole life has been catering around other people’s feelings, other people’s wants, other people’s needs. And every moment when I try to give myself some kind of love, I end up being the “bad” person.

Every day that passes, I want to be more and more alone. At least when I’m alone, I can love the kids AND myself. I don’t have to worry about someone else making me sad, making me mad, making me feel worthless. But that’s not gonna happen. Or maybe it will, when I can’t take anymore of the cycle of repeated emotional abuse. I’m sure he’s not doing it on purpose, but I can only take so much. The clock is ticking and I don’t want to be old and unhappy.

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

Bottom of the barrel:

I really don’t understand life at all. At least my life.

I literally keep ending up in the same place, no matter what I do. Life for me now is a constant battle with myself. Telling myself things will be better, telling myself to ignore things, telling myself it's the path I chose and to accept it. It works for some of the days./p>

This time I chose someone that I thought would be different. I chose the path of love and family. But I don’t ever see myself growing old and happy in this path.

I think every year around this time I get really depressed because my birthday is coming up. It signifies another year has past. And it also reminds me nothing in my life has changed.

Still struggling to live, nothing saved, kids are almost at learning age and I have nothing to get them started on. I can’t go to the doctor I can’t go to the dentist. I have no money of my own. Rarely something new to call my own. Feeling sick and I can’t do anything about it. Basically living the most bare bones of life just so I can be with you.

I chose you, out of everyone, I chose you. I trusted you with my life. All of it. Trusted you to take care of me. Trusted you to take care of our family. But we get empty promises. We’re still in the same place. When you love someone, you would do anything for them. But here I am, still getting anxiety every time I get in the car with you. Okay, whatever, screw me, but you can’t even tone it down for your own kids. I don’t want to grow old and be with someone unromantic.. Even the most ridiculous people around me can be romantic, but no, I don’t get the luxury. I don’t deserve any ounce of it. No date nights without kids, no surprises, no plans. The list goes on and on. But here I am, sticking by your side year after year, shunning people out when they try to convince me to take another path or bribe me with things. But I defended us, and chose us. Why do I do it? Why do I always settle? Why do I stick by you day after day and give you chances after chances? The answer was because I loved you, because I wanted it to work. I care about you. But I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to grow old and sad. Everyday I wake up hating this life I’m stuck with. I’m scared the rest of my life will remain the same. My track record so far definitely shows it. This is the only life I have and I want to be happy like everyone else. I want to feel like I belong. I want to feel special. I want to feel like I’m living for once in my life. I want to be pulled out and into this world. But at this point in life. I just wish I could die. I know it’s impossible, cause I love my kids more than anything and I need to make sure they succeed. But if I didn’t have them… I’d be dead in a heartbeat. I’m tired of being me.