#sylvester seal

[divnydoodles]

Happy Birthday to FNAF, the series that started it all and arguably changed my life 💗. I figured today would be an appropriate day to share a new fnaf OC! Meet Sylvester the Safety Seal 🦭, a mascot from the Tales from the Pizzaplex story: Submechanophobia…

Alternate colors + concept art below the cut

More on Sylvester’s wearer later…

[wolfface2]

more band members

[npdkondraki]

and i really do mean it when i say his stupid gay mcrp machinima was like. genuinely amazing. i am not lying to you when i say its a great piece of scp media . which is saying something because im deeply pretentious about scp

i dont trust anyone to make any scp movie or tv show or dare i bring it up scp anime other than cory newscapepro crater. hes the only one who could pull it off. we need to get that guy in a writers room STAT

[taniahylian]

Ms. Grace: a Foundation spy

Okay, buckle up because this is a wild theory, which was sparked by just a single word, but it's backed up by a lot of facts, so let's dive into it, shall we?

First of, left's look at the description of an event that will become available next patch: Phototaxis in study.

You see it, don't you? Now, let's first remember that we, as the player, see everything through Vertin's eyes. As such, if someone named "Moth" sent intel to us, they're likely affiliated with the Foundation in one way or another.

Moth is likely a codename, however, and not the character's actual name. Why? Because we have already seen a character associated with moths, and her name is Ms. Grace, and she's a spy.

Quite a lot of moths in her design, right? Seems rather intentional. Not to mention that, when she's disguised as Kayla, the only difference between them, aside from the eye color, is that Grace has a moth pattern on her bandana.

Not to mention that, when Vertin encounters Grace for the first time, an odd detail is mentioned; a white moth landing on the flowers Grace was holding.

Okay, so we've stablished that Grace is heavily associated with moths, but how do we know she's a Foundation spy that infiltrated Manus Vindictae? Very simple; a trail found in this event.

First we see this report from Andreas Sylvester who, if you remember, is a low-ranking Zeno soldier that was left behind at the abandoned Texas facility. As such, he is unlikely to be privy to classified information and, although he does in fact seem to know that Grace is a spy, he came to the rather logical conclusion that she's a Manus Vindictae spy that was sent to report to them about Zeno's activity in Texas. However, Constantine's response is very suspicious.

She recommends him to not interfere with Ms. Grace's work, likely because she knows Grace is actually a Foundation spy, carrying out her orders, rather than an actual Manus member.

Also, if Ms. Grace is a spy, that would explain why she was using transformation rituals; she needed to change her appearence into someone the Manus would have no knowledge of (since she's likely a high-ranking Investigator, the Manus probably already knew her original appearence), so she picked a random country girl (Kayla) to change into her, and ended up accidentally trapping her in a mirror in the process... or perhaps it wasn't accidental at all; after all, it'd be very bad if the Manus ever met the real Kayla.

Let's also not forget that, according to Vertin, the Foundation teaches this particular transformation array to their SPDM students, which furthers the connection even more.

There's also what happens at the end of Anjo Nala's trailer. If you need a refresher, after the Manus members give Anjo order after order, she snaps and kills them... but here's the thing: Anjo physically can't disobey the commands given to her by the seal, and she also can't even touch her master, much less harm them. So how could she kill the Manus members? ... Unless she was ordered to.

And who was holding Anjo's seal during that scene?

Ms. Grace, of course. She's also the one who says the final line in the trailer, in the format of some sort of report: "Towards the end of 1990, the succubus left for Sao Paulo". And we know for a fact that, indeed, Anjo followed their orders and ended up going to Sao Paulo.

So, Ms. Grace isn't dead; she's the only survivor of that massacre and, if my theory is correct, she's also the orchestrator. She used Kimberly to kill these high-ranking manus, while at the same time not blowing her cover, and making Kimberly seem unstable/unreliable, so the Manus would probably want to get rid of the seal. Quite a smart move, if you ask me.

But what do you think? Too crazy? Honestly I can't wait for the big reveal that Grace was working for the Foundation all along, if it happens at any point in the future.

[freetheshit-outofyou]

Why don't elite soldiers and Navy SEALs have physiques like Dwayne Johnson or Vin Diesel? Sure sometimes they do but more often than not they look just like the average "Joe"". B", based on my work and interactions with them.

This is Command Sergeant Major Michael Vining one of the original members of DELTA Force. He joined the Army in 1968 as an EDO specialist and went to Vietnam in 1970. After Vietnam he left the Army and took a job stamping auto body parts for Ford Motor Company. In 1973 he rejoined the Army. In 1978 he was selected for Delta Force where he was their first EOD specialist. He served in Delta until 1985. In Late 1986 he was brought back into Delta where he stayed until 1992. He served 30 years in the Army before finally calling it quits in 1999.

Take a good look at this guy, becasue there are 15,000,000 Veterans just like him that don't look like Jean-Claude Van Damme, Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Dolph Lundgren, Dwayne Johnson, or Vin Diesel. The fact is they look more like you and I then they do the big action stars. That makes them no less effective at their craft. Here's to you Command Sergeant Major Michael Vining and all the other Joe's who strap it on and lay it all on the line. Salute!

[horsesource]

"In the introduction to his book Animal Liberation, Peter Singer says somewhat smugly that he and his wife have no animals and, in fact, don't much care for them. This is offered as evidence of his objectivity and ethical probity. But it strikes me as an odd, perhaps obscene underpinning for an ethical project that encourages university and high school students to cherish their ignorance of, say, great bird dogs as proof of their devotion to animals.

The question that needs to be asked - and that will put us in closer proximity to the truth - is not, do they have rights? or, what are those rights? but rather, what is a right? Rights originate in committed relationships and can be found, both intact and violated, wherever one finds such relationships - in social compacts, within families, between animals, and between people and nonhuman animals. This is as true when the nonhuman animals in question are lions or parakeets as when they are dogs..

Possession of a being by another has come into more and more disrepute, so that the common understanding of one person possessing another is slavery. But the important detail about the kind of possessive pronoun that I have in mind is reciprocity: If I have a friend, she has a friend. If I have a daughter, she has a mother. The possessive does not bind one of us while freeing the other; it cannot do that..

Dogs can have elaborate conceptions of human social structures, and even of something like their rights and responsibilities within them, but these conceptions are never elaborate enough to construct a rights relationship between a dog and the state, or a dog and the Humane Society. Both of these are concepts that depend on writing and memoranda, officers in uniform, plaques and seals of authority...

People who claim to speak for animal rights are increasingly devoted to the idea that the very keeping of a dog or a horse or a gerbil or a lion is in and of itself an offense. The more loudly they speak, the less likely they are to be in a rights relation to any given animal, because they are spending so much time in airplanes or transmitting fax announcements of the latest Sylvester Stallone antifur rally. In a 1988 Harper's forum, for example, Ingrid Newkirk, the national director of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, urged that domestic pets be spayed and neutered and ultimately phased out. She prefers, it appears, wolves - and wolves someplace else -to Airedales and, by a logic whose interior structure is both emotionally and intellectually forever closed to Drummer [Hearne's Airedale], claims thereby to be speaking for 'animal rights.'

She is wrong. I am the only one who can own up to my Airedale's inalienable rights. Whether or not I do it perfectly at any given moment is no more refutation of this point than whether I am perfectly my husband's mate at any given moment refutes the fact of marriage. Only people who know Drummer, and whom he can know, are capable of this relationship. PETA and the Humane Society and the ASPCA and the Congress and NOW - as institutions - do have the power to affect my ability to grant rights to Drummer but are otherwise incapable of creating conditions or laws or rights that would increase his happiness. Only Drummer's owner has the power to obey him - to obey who he is and what he is capable of - deeply enough to grant him rights and open up the possibility of happiness."

"What's Wrong with Animal Rights" Vicki Hearne

[fipindustries]

charles and the wildbow protagonist

It is a known truth amongs the fandom that charles is what happens when you see a wildbow protagonist from the outside. charles fulfills all the requrements of the archetype to a T.

scrappy survivor with a never say die attitude, who will not stop no matter what. ruthlessly utilitarian mindset where whatever can be done in order to win has to be done, all other considerations be damned. the lowest kind of underdog where he is (literally in this case) hated by the universe. surpisingly resourceful and capable of wrenching a solution to any problem even when starting with every handicap and disadvantage possible. and most important of all: a cause. an all consuming goal. an almost fervent belief that they are doing what HAS to be done and that it is the CORRECT thing to do.

so with all that in mind is interesting that charles IS very much, an evil person. not just misunderstood. i dont think his villany is merely a product of what side of the narrative he was placed in. i dont think this is just protagonist bias. i think charles was unequivocally a monster, in a way that the other wildbow protagonists (with perhaps the exception of sy/simon??????? arguably???????) are not.

and what is it that sets him apart?

why is taylor going khepri and mindcontrolling the multiverse in order to defeat scieon still not something that sets taylor as an evil person in the same way that charles creating the crucible and trying to forswear the kennet girls in order to defeat the seal of solomon is

(quick aside to acknoledge that this is not a clean topic and is not as easy as to say that all wildbow protags are unquestionable good people or fighting for a good cause necessarily. blake is a preety cool guy but he does go boogieman and decides to just murder a bunch of guys, bad people for sure but he just kind of goes and does it all the same. vicky did contribute to the prison planet and a bunch of other stuff during ward and sylvester... is sylvester)

before i try to answer that question i do want to double back on the whole villany by narrative framing. wildbow, for as dark and grimm and bleak as his stories get, he always always always tells stories about good triumphing against evil. he has not told a story yet where the bad guys are not defeated and the good guys dont accomplish their goal. and so in the end the thing that sets charles apart from a wildbow protagonist. the thing that truly marks him as a villain, is not just the horrors that he commited, or the suffering he is gulty of or his evil deeds. is most of all the fact that he loses at the end what ultimatly proves him wrong.

because that is another thing wildbow has going on in his stories, his stories are ultimatly incredibly idealistic because there is a sense once you read them over and over, and its subtle and easy to miss but there all the same, that evil ultimatly always ends up losing. that evil is on some level self sabotaging, that goodness is the winning strategy. wildbow heroes win because they are scrappy and smart and tenacious and never give up, but most of all they win because they were kind, true and righteous, or at the least they had these qualities in enough quantities as to matter. that being a good person matters both in a fundamental sense but also in a strategic sense.

taylor could not have gotten to where she got if she hadnt been, fundamentally, ultimatly, a Good Person. someone who truly cared for others, who was capable of helping and nurturing and building. this is proven most starkly when her efforts to rebuild the city and to create a safe heaven for the citizens of brockton bay reward her with everyone siding with her on the caffeteria scene against dragon and defiant. (and then later when dragon and defiant get on her side after she kills alexandria).

Blake ultimatly won because he was honorable and true, because even though the universe was against him he tried to leave the world a better place wherever he went, because he made an effort to save evan from the hyena, and green eyes from the abyss, and get rid of Ur, and because he was fighting against deontological evil which meant that he was going to get help and support form others.

vicky won because of the goodness that she spread, because of the ways in which he made her team stronger, because of how she saved kenzie from a terrible family situation and how she made a good impression on that girl on the train and because of how she helped ashley get to a better place and by how she sent all those people to the prison planet, wait, no hold on, forget that last one. because her and every hero made a true effort of goodwill for the non powered people.

sylvester... again, was sylvester.

most important of all, they cared for others, they loved and were loved by others. taylor did have lisa, and bitch, and Imp and dragon and many others who truly believed in her by the very end, no matter how monstrous she got. blake had evan and green eyes. sy had the lambs, and the beetle students, and the experiments, etc. vicky had breakthrough.

who the fuck did charles have? the aurum? the st victor kids and teachers? maricia??? fucking the kim famly???¿'¿¿?¿??? wildbow made a clear point of how these people barely tolerated one another and how it was misserable to be among them.

charles had noone that cared for him, because he didnt bother to truly care about anyone. he was never kind, he never had a moment of tenderness, he never built or made anyone stronger in anyway that truly mattered. or if he had they werent enough to matter and they were all corrupted by everything else he did.

the one thing that keeps him from being a true wildbow protagonist is that, ultimatly, he was kind of a piece shit.

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Sixteen - (Original Song) Trouty Mouth!

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Against what you considered your teams better judgement, the New Directions were convinced to write original songs for the upcoming competition, that could seal your hopes and dreams of -temporarily- getting out of the small town you called home. If only drama didnt follow the club like a plague.

Word Count: 5,352

WARNINGS: Maths, argument, yearning, that’s mostly it

-----

"Guys, I've got some bad news."

"Oh, just what I want to hear on a morning," you sassed from your seat beside Artie, the boy helping you finish your calculus homework last minute.

"No one does, Y/N," Mr Schue drawled, "You know how we decided on 'Sing' by My Chemical Romance for Regionals? Well, I hold in my hand a cease and desist letter from the band. We can't do it."

Puckerman scoffed from the back of the choir room, "It was the perfect anthem."

At the Spanish teacher's statement, you pulled your attention where you were scribbling a -probably wrong- equation onto the paper in your lap, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"That really doesn't sound like something the band would do."

"How much do you wanna bet Coach Sylvester has something to do with this?" Mercedes asked, shaking her head.

"One step ahead of you."

"So, what are we gonna do now?" she continued.

Before Mr Schue could begin to offer up some words of confidence, whilst he secretly worried inside, Rachel voiced her opinion.

"I think we should write original songs for Regionals."

"Oh, nope. That's still a bad idea." You shook your head, turning back to your homework.

You hate to admit it because you loved your sister dearly, but your hand was one of the firsts that rose into the air after Santana's declaration.

"All those in favour of voting Rachel down a second time?"

However, what came next shocked you to your very core.

"No, I think Rachel is right."

With horrified eyes, you turned to look over your shoulder at the blonde sitting behind you.

"Who are you, and what the hell have you done with Quinn Fabray?"

The girl rolled her eyes at you.

"This team works best when we push ourselves and do something a little different."

At Quinn's defence for your sister, everyone with their hands raised slowly started to lower them, listening to her reasonings intently.

"That's true, but if the all the other teams are doing amazing songs, we're not gonna be so good."

"You're right. We're not gonna be as good. We're gonna be better," Quinn countered Mercedes, "We won't be using other people's words or music. It'll be our own. Our own heart, soul, not just our voices. We have a really talented songwriter in our midst. Rachel, I was thinking maybe you and I could write a song together."

Okay, now something was definitely up.

Not only was Quinn Fabray volunteering to spend time with your sister, working on a project, when you knew full well that she could barely stand the shorter diva Berry.

But she also called her a "talented songwriter", when if she was forced to hear any of the drafts you had been, you knew she would not be saying that. Nor would she be jumping -creating- the opportunity to work with her.

"I'm with Quinn and Rachel," Finn spoke, looking between the two teenagers he had dated, making you roll your eyes at him, "I mean, if these two can agree on something, it's probably an idea worth considering."

"Well, I still think it's a bad one."

"Wait a minute. So suddenly, you two are writing music for Regionals?" Santana asked, almost affronted, "No way. I think that everyone should get a chance to write a song."

Sam was quick to agree with his girlfriend.

"Santana's right. We can do this."

"What do you think, Mr Schue?" Mercedes asked the man standing in the centre of the room, cease and desist letter still within his grasp.

The curly-haired man shrugged, giving a tight-lipped but pleased smile.

"I think we're doing original songs for Regionals."

After the short applause, both young Berrys turned to gander at the blonde behind them.

Rachel with a thankful smile.

And yourself, with a snappy comment.

"Seriously, who are you?"

---

Early the next day, before your first class, you meandered the halls, looking for one of your friends to chat with for the short time before the bell rang.

And that's exactly what you found.

Only, they didn't look how you expected.

"Oh, what the hell happened to you two?" you asked the two ex-cheerleaders, whose clothes were caked in soil, mouths also coated in the stuff, looking as if they had been eating it.

"Sue put dirt in our lockers," Santana explained as Brittany spat the stuff from her mouth, trying to pluck it away with her just-as-covered fingers. Her statement made your eyes drag behind them to where their lockers sat, filled with dirt.

"That's insane. Why'd she do it?"

"She's still pissed at us for not going to the Cheerios Nationals and the fact that she's not a cheer coach anymore."

"She is the prettiest person I have ever met, and I live with my sister." Gesturing them towards you, you said, "Okay, let's uh... let's get you two a change of clothes. Unless you wanna look like you just dug yourselves out of shallow graves."

Hours later, you had escorted the -now changed- girls into the choir room, dispersing throughout. A lot of club members with open notepads on their laps and pens in hand, just waiting for the director to enter the room so that they could start their lesson.

With a tall stack of yellow books in his arms, the man said, "All right, guys, let's hear it for our first songwriting seminar."

You still thought it was a bad idea, but you had decided to go with it nonetheless. It's better for you to try and fail than to not try at all.

"While Quinn and Rachel are hard at work, we're gonna try to write an anthem of our own," Mr Schue told, as he handed out the thick books, "Now, these are rhyming dictionaries for all of you."

"Mr Schue, Tina, and I have been uh already working on a song that I wrote," Santana offered.

"Really? That's amazing. Well, can we hear it?"

The Latina gave a small nod before moving to stand in the centre of the room, Tina making her way to the heys of the piano.

"This is a song that I wrote for Am. It's called 'Trouty Mouth'."

The blonde boy's sweet smile fell at that.

"Wait. What's it called?"

Only for Mike to lean over and whisper, "'Trouty Mouth'."

You didn't know a song could make you this happy.

Every one of Santana's lyrics was better than the last.

That was until Sam had to go and ruin it for you.

"Okay, can we stop?" he asked, outraged, as he jumped to his feet, "Stop with the mouth jokes."

"No, no, no!" you whined, aghast, once the music was abruptly cut off.

"Sit down. I'm not finished."

"Yes, you are." The boy then turned to the seated teacher, "Mr Schue, we're not doing a song at Regionals called 'Trouty Mouth'."

The man stuttered, rising from his own seat as he gestured to the blonde, "You know what? I have to agree with Sam on this one."

"Oh, I disagree." You shook your head with a bright smile tugging at your lips. "'Trouty Mouth' has got to be an iconic anthem. Really a song for generations."

"Y/N," Mr Schuester scolded you before turning back to Santana, "But such a good first effort. I just don't think it's got the epic feel we need for Regionals."

"I do." Your hand shot into the air, playfully being shoved by Sam as he manoeuvred back to his seat.

It seems Santana wasn't the only eager participant in the room, as Puckerman soon voiced his own involvement with a raise of his hand.

"Mr Schue, I wrote a song too. I wrote it for Lauren." The girl looked away awkwardly at that, spurring the boy into manoeuvering further into her line of sight. "I know that when I sang 'Fat Bottomed Girls', it might have hurt your feelings a little bit, but... I think this makes up for it." The delinquent continued down to replace a disgruntled Santana. It's got a bit of a rockabilly feel, so it could give us an edge this weekend."

"I'm inclined to agree with you there," you admitted as your teacher nodded the boy on.

"All right. Show us what you've got."

You couldn't help but laugh as Santana walked by Mr Schue, muttering to the man, "Don't touch me. Don't touch me."

"It's called 'Big Ass... Heart'."

"Why was that good?" you asked once the boy's short performance was over, "Stop making things that I like."

Mr Schuester, it seems, didn't share your same opinions, 'cause as soon as he could, he popped up out of his seat, hoping to get the boy off of the floor.

"All right, guys, let's make Puck's song a contender, but I don't totally think we're there yet. Everyone look at your rhyming dictionaries, and let's work on banging out some songs that rock."

---

"I have to talk with you."

With a short yell, you startled back, slamming your locker door in reaction. Snapping your head to the side, you spotted your sister, an almost conspiring look upon her features.

"Hey. Why do you always have to scare me? How was your songwriting session with blondie?" you asked, beginning to make your way down the hall, forcing a trailing Rachel to jog to catch up, to be by your side.

"It was fine. Quinn lacks my vision and years of studying lyrics and the meaning behind songs, but with some more work, I'm sure she could help me."

You rolled your eyes in reaction to her grandiose words while she quickly shook her head. "But that's not what I want to talk to you about."

"Aha. And what's on your mind?"

"I think Finn is dating Quinn again."

A familiar weight sunk in your chest. Cold and heavy. Something close to hopeless despair.

But you couldn't let your sister know that.

And you couldn't tell her that you knew they had been fooling around, even with no proof of that fact, considering she had flat-out believed Quinn's lie in the last celibacy club session you had attended. It would destroy her, and even though you knew you should tell her the truth, it would be the right thing to do, but you just didn't want to see her hurt.

"What makes you say that?"

"They were talking, and they were really close."

You gasped sarcastically, "I'll call the Pope!"

"Y/N, would you take this seriously?"

"And why the hell should I do that?" you asked, talking with a hand whilst the other held onto the strap of your backpack, "They were just taking, Rach. They can do that."

"Yeah, but it seemed... different."

"'Different' how?"

"Like they were talking about their relationship."

"And how does that look?" you almost laughed, "Look, Rach, at the end of the day, it's none of our business what they were talking about, no matter if he's your ex or not- If anything, you have less of a right to know."

Before she could reply, you were literally saved by the bell ringing overhead, signalling the start of your next class.

"Now, if you'll excuse me." You pointed over your shoulder with your thumb. "I have to go get a 'C+' on my calculus homework... with any luck," you finished to yourself as you walked away from her,

Thoughts of Quinn and Finn swam through your mind as that sinking feeling continued to grow.

---

It was a relief when Mercedes pulled you away from the rhyming dictionary before you with the incredible song she wrote and performed for everyone in the choir room.

"Yeah. Mercedes," Mr Schuester applauded with the club, speaking over everyone's cheers, "Really, really good."

"Thank you." The girl beamed.

"But, um..."

Mercedes' smile dropped at that.

"'But' my butt, Mr Schue. That song was amazing." She pointed a finger in the man's face as to get her point across.

"No, I agree. I'm just not sure that it's Regionals material."

The girl sighed softly, making her way over to the seats.

"Mr Schue, I wrote another verse of 'Trouty Mouth'," Santana voiced, bringing the attention to her, spurring Sam to raise the sign he had scribbled onto his notepad in support of Mercedes' song, reading 'hell no'.

Nodding along with the Latina from your seat beside her at the piano, you said, "I helped."

"No, no, no. Guys- Guys, just think about it. What's your favourite song of all time?"

"'My Headband'," Brittany spoke instantly.

"I'll let Rachel know that one person likes the song she's been torturing me with for weeks now."

"Allina Morissette's 'You Oughta Know'," Santana offered next.

Puckerman was Next. "'What's going on', Marvin Gaye."

"Puckerman, you're on a roll." Zizes complimented from where she stood, leaning against the side of the piano closest to you.

Taking the time to think on it while Santana and Puck had offered their favourite songs, you wracked your brain to find one of the songs that you loved.

"'Piano Man' by Billy Joel." You nodded, playing with the pen between your fingers.

"Okay, and what are all those songs about?" the teacher questioned.

"Headbands?" Brittany shrugged behind him.

Deciding to ignore the dirty blonde's answer, the man continued, "All these songs come from a place of pain. Look, the greatest songs are about hurt. And that's the side of yourself I want you to get in touch with."

"That should be easy," Artie stated, "Coach Sylvester tortures us for no reason and tries to get the entire school to hate us."

"Not that they didn't already." You shrugged. "At this point, it's just beating a dead horse with a stick."

"Yesterday, she filled Britt's and my lockers with dirt."

Mr Schuester rushed up to the whiteboard to begin listing Sue Sylvester's verbal abuse to the club.

"Okay, okay. Slow down."

"Literally no one else was talking," you uttered.

Mercedes voiced her own complaint about the blonde coach next, "Well, she literally throws sticks at me."

"Okay, what else? What else?"

"She called the Ohio Secretary of State saying she was me and that I wanna legally change my name to Tina Cohen-Loser."

You couldn't help but snort at that as everyone looked on in shock.

"She...?"

"Mean. Mean."

"I'm sorry," you told the girl, "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Okay, and how does that make you feel?"

"That she shouldn't be around children."

Fin had something else to say, however.

"Well... at first it hurts, but... then it mostly makes you wanna win."

"Guys..." the teacher smiled. "I think you may have just found your song."

"And that song is 'Trouty Mouth'." You pointed.

"No!" Mr Schue and Sam called out at the same time. Disappointing both you and the Latina who created the song.

"Now let's get to writing," the curly-haired man psyched everyone up as the title 'Loser Like Me' sat on the board behind him.

With a deep, grunted sigh, you dropped your head onto Santana's shoulder, preparing yourself for the only lesson to go.

By the end of the Glee Club meeting, your brain was fried by the number of words that ran through it. You were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to string together a sentence if your life depended on it.

To come to your sister's aid, however? That was a whole other thing entirely.

It was the end of the school day, and you knew Rachel would be working overtime on her songwriting, dragging Quinn along with her.

And considering you would rather not have a murdered sister, you were on your way to the auditorium, fully intent on dragging her kicking and screaming from the school if you had to. 'Cause, there was no way in hell that you were coming back to pick her up.

Only, you didn't have to do anything of the sort.

You were stunned in place just before you could reach the backstage door of the auditorium when your sister strode out, tears spilling from her eyes, trying to keep her sobs at bay.

"I'll be waiting in the car," she whimpered, rushing past you, trying to get out of the school as quick as possible but knowing that you weren't about to let her state slide.

So, as you watched her leave down the hall, your face grew hard, anger boiling up within you, face turning into a snarl as you span on your heel, slammed the door open, and strode over to where the blonde was sitting at the piano on the stage.

"Hey, what the hell did you say to her?!" you asked, pointing behind you.

Quinn sniffed, blinking back the wetness building up in her red eyes.

Maybe if you weren't so angry at her, you would have noticed apparent distress of her own.

"I just gave her a dose of reality," she said primly, straightening out the papers scattered along the grand piano.

"Reality that makes her cry?"

"Life sucks, sometimes, Y/N," she snapped, "She needs to get used to it- The rest of us have."

You scoffed at that, shaking your head in reaction.

"You know, though last year you were pregnant and had all of those demon hormones, so that if I said, "Hey, I don't like this flavour of gum," you would go into an eternal rage. But at least you weren't such a heinous bitch all the time!"

The blonde was gobsmacked by your sudden snapped reaction, gasping and pointing to her chest as she repeated your words, in offence, "You think I'm a heinous bitch?"

"Oh no, I know you are!"

"And what?" she challenged, "You want me to go back to being that sad, pregnant girl? Just so that you will like me?"

"No." You shook your head, obviously. "I want you to go back to that girl who cared about people other than herself."

"You think I don't care?"

"Do you call this caring?!" you argued, gesturing to the space around you wildly, "Really? So, what was this "dose of reality" you gave her that you consider caring?" you asked, utilising air quotes as you did.

"I told her that she didn't belong here, in this town. She was going to get out of here, and I was just sending her on her way." She almost sneered, confusing you, as you thought she had insulted your sister and not told her exactly what she wanted to hear. "That I was going to get married to Finn and start a family, he was going to get Burt's tire shop, and I would become a successful real estate agent, and she-" Quinn had to take in a sharp breath to gear herself up for what she was about to say. "She knows that she's going to get everything she has ever dreamed of... just not the boy she loved in high school."

The blonde had a hard time reading you as you stood there, silently evaluating her.

"Is that really what you think of yourself?" you asked finally, confusing her.

"What?"

"You think you're gonna be stuck here for the rest of your life?"

"That's my dose of reality. I've gotten used to it."

Suddenly, your dwindling anger spurred back to life.

"After- After everything I told you, you still believe that?"

"What do you mean?"

"How many times have I told you you can do anything, Quinn Fabray?" you stepped up to her now, unknowingly mirroring her and Rachel's positions from only minutes ago, only flipped in your favour.

But still, the girl was stubborn. Looking up at you with a hard pour, not backing down.

"You're amazing, and you don't fucking see it. You once told me that you wanted to help change the word, make it a better place-"

"That was just a silly dream!" She yelled, flinging her arms out by her sides.

"No, it's not! It's not silly, and it's less a dream and more of a plan. Being a real estate agent is all well and good, but you are destined for far better things- Greater things."

It was only then that you noticed the hopeless look in her eyes, the way they shone with tears, reddened and burning as she fought them off tooth and nail.

"Quinn," you breathed, "Is... is this about-?"

"Don't." She sneered. "Just... just don't, Y/N. I don't want to hear this right now."

She turned, trying to walk away before you could confront her truth when it was too hard for her to do so herself.

"You don't need to hide yourself like this."

"What do you know?!" she yelled, spinning back to face you, tears fully built up in her eyes, but still, none fell, as she stormed back over to you, "You've never had to do it! You've never had to be someone you're not. You're lucky enough to have a family that accepted you the second you were born. Not only that, but your parents relate to you on that!"

"Yeah, you're right." You nodded after a few moments of silence. "I don't understand exactly what you're going through. But I do know that you don't have to throw yourself into a life you truly don't want just because you're too scared to be you. Look, I'm not telling you to come out or lead the fucking pride parade. That's up to you. It's your choice. You can still live the life you want without doing all that. Don't throw your dreams away because you're scared of how other people will perceive you."

And with that, you left the blonde alone to her thoughts, heading off to comfort your crying sister as best you could.

You couldn't get anything out of her during the whole car ride back home, which was abnormal for her when she was in a state such as ones like this.

Even when you arrived home, Rachel rushed straight up to her pastel yellow room, leaving you to watch from her doorway as she cried and scribbled lyrics onto her notepad, surrounded by multiple drafts crumpled up around her.

With a deep sigh and a droop of your shoulders, you knew there was nothing you could do to help her at that moment. She didn't want any help nor did she want comfort, so there was no likelihood that she would accept it.

Stepping foot into your own room, your eyes travelled to where your own pad of paper sat at your desk, infesting your brain with thoughts of writing your own song.

Shaking your head, you quickly decided, "absolutely not." Instead, you pulled out your textbook to work on your homework, your brain was broken enough from songwriting today, and you needed to finish your history for tomorrow. Even if you wanted to lay down and nap for the next four hours.

---

The next few days passed in a blur and yet dwindled along slowly, at the same time, mainly when you and your sister had to be around the blonde and her boyfriend.

But the day had finally arrived.

Regionals.

You had to admit that you weren't that hopeful, with your songs being original and all that, but you were still gonna give it your all. If not for yourself or your team, but for your sister.

As usual, your club was late arriving at the competition, so as the announcer introduced the first competitors over the PA, you scooted your way through the rows to your designated seats.

"-Let's have a warm welcome for Aural Intensity!"

"Still sounds like a stupid term for going down on someone," you mumbled over to Mike, who had to stifle his laugh into his shoulder.

The expression you wore was one of disgusted astonishment, watching Sue's clear attempt at pandering to the judges, which only further grew with the cheering crowd.

You just hoped that Kurt and the Warbler's performance was far better than what you were just forced to sit through.

That hope was quickly proved true, as to your utter surprise, your friend began the setlist for his Glee Club, which made you beam out of pure happiness for this chance for him to shine in front of an audience.

Both Berry's in the crowd found their eyes trailing over to the couple that was Quinn and Finn, noticing the way that their hands were linked. Rachel and yourself yearning for opposite people in said couple. How two people could captivate a pair of siblings and be together like it was nothing, effortlessly crushing both Berry's hearts, was beyond you. It just seemed like a sick joke the world was playing.

Tearing your eyes away from them, you focused back on your friend and his boyfriend.

You suppose that is why he didn't let you know that he would be singing front and centre for this competition. He was far too excited to gush about the boy he had been harbouring feelings for, for months now, who had become his boyfriend. And not only that, he had had his first real kiss, that wasn't with Brittany. Or, unknowingly to you, taking from him by Karofsky.

After their duet and Blane's rendition of 'Raise Your Glass', that got the whole crowd jumping on their feet, it was the New Direction's turn to perform.

Walking through the backstage area with Santana by your side, you overheard Finn talking to your sister.

"I really like your song."

"It sure is better than 'My Headband'." You threw over your shoulder, gaining a soft glare from Rachel before she swiftly turned back to talk to her ex-boyfriend.

"I still think I should have sung 'Trouty Mouth' as the solo."

Breathing out a laugh, you threw your arm over the girl's shoulder. "Oh, I agree with you there."

From across the way, almost as if his ears had been attuned to the two words so that he would be able to hear them strung together within a five-mile radius, Sam yelled, "Stop talking about 'Trouty Mouth'!" Harbouring laughs from the club in reaction.

"And now, from William McKinley High in Lima, Ohio, the New Directions!"

You were by Finn's side during the entirety of your sister's performance, arms folded across your chest, all the while he listened to the lyrics intently, with an awestruck look on his face.

"She was crying while she wrote this."

"Why?" he breathed back as if speaking any louder would disrupt the performance. Unable to take his eyes off of his singing ex.

You could have told him about her and Quinn's argument, but you thought it best to give him the whole, blaring, obvious truth.

"Because she's still in the love with you."

His breath shortened then, while you glanced behind him, spotting his girlfriend, who had obviously heard your statement, staring into your soul with a look you couldn't quite decipher. She was frustrated and annoyed you could tell that much, even though she hid it well. But there was also a hopelessness and longing emitted from her.

But there wasn't long for you to dwell on it, as a few moments later, she and the rest of the girls were marching out. Followed by the boys and yourself after Rachel had introduced your team. Which quickly lead into your next and final song for the competition.

You were glad that it wasn't another slow number, where you had to be careful and intricate with your dance moves, but instead was one where you could end it off by dousing the audience with shiny red confetti, masquerading in slushie cups along with a cart. A reference, which only people who knew about and attended your school would know of.

After the judges had taken a short amount of time in their deliberation, the three Glee Clubs and their directors were gathered on stage to hear the results of the competition.

"And now, to announce our winner, Lieutenant Governor Stevens' wife, Carla Turlington Stevens."

"Who are these random-ass people they get for these things?" you whispered, once again to Mike, as you joined everyone else to applaud for the woman.

"Do you think they would be able to get anyone else to do it?" he countered.

"Touché, I supposed not."

Once the woman took the stage, she felt that to be the ideal time to get her troubles off of her chest.

"My husband is verbally abusive, and I have been drinking since noon." Feedback from the microphone was the only thing that filled the awkward silence her confession had garnered. "I'm bored. Let's just see who won, huh?" Suspense filled the three hopeful teams as the drunk woman opened the first-place envelope. "The New Directions, you're going to Nationals in New York."

The celebrations with your team were cut short, thanks to Sue Sylvester's outburst, where she strode up to the Governor's wife and knocked her out cold.

Talk about being a sore loser.

---

You were sat beside your sister when Mr Schuester walked into the choir room, carrying a small trophy, busy talking on the phone.

"I'll show you the video when you get home. Have fun at the sweat lodge." You cringed at the next words he cooed down the line, trying -and failing- to hide it from his students. "Namaste to you too. Okay, bye."

Leaning closer to Rachel you muttered, "She could do so much better than him." Knowing that he and Holly Holliday had been seeing each other since she came in to teach everyone about sex, because they were so bad at hiding it.

Only she wasn't the only person who had heard your comment.

Quinn Fabray, who was seated in front of your sister, peered at you from the corner of her eye, a ghost of a smile shadowing her lips. Sending a hopeful rush through you, even though your mind was screaming at you that it was worthless to even feel.

"Miss Holliday sends her best," he turned to tell the team, "And can't wait to congratulate you all in person when she gets back from her meditation retreat. Now, we all know that winning Regionals was a team effort, and Nationals isn't going to be any different. But... like in sports, every winning team has a player that rises above to help carry their teammates to victory. The M.V.P.." He pointed before bringing the gold star trophy into view. "And I would like to start a tradition of honouring that player after every one of our competitions. So, per a unanimous vote by all of you... our Regionals M.V.P. is... Miss Rachel Berry."

The club applauded for your sister as the director waved her down to accept her award.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you." She beamed. "If I could just say a few words?"

"Sure."

"And here she goes, making me regret voting for her," Santana said dryly.

"Same." You nodded, smiling down at Rachel playfully. Please don't start singing."

She rolled her brown eyes at you.

"Well, first of all, I just wanna say how amazing the song you guys wrote was. I-I was so inspired. You know, it's funny. I've won a lot of trophies before for singing competitions, and dancing competitions but... I've always felt like the girl who never gets the brass ring... and maybe I never will." She shrugged. "But today a-and at Regionals... the way you guys believed in me and... took a chance with me... all I've ever wanted was to feel special... and to feel chosen. And... I just, um... I wanted to thank you guys so much for giving me that. So, that's all."

After your sister's tearful speech, you lead the charge in giving her a hug, a proud look on your face, at her -not arrogant- speech.

So maybe doing original songs wasn't the worst idea ever.

You still thought it was pretty dumb, though.

However, there was no way you were gonna let Rachel know that anytime soon.

After all, you were far too excited for one thing and one thing alone.

New York City.

-----

Prev Part | Next Part

[orii-blogs-stuff]

More stuff about the Demigod au

So the Demigods go to their own school that is called Divine academy (thanks @insert-clever-username-1133 for the idea!) and it takes up hald of the Sov while the Royal academy takes up the other half as shown bellow:

the map shows the duchy dorms and the Godly dorms in their duchy/godly colour, how do the godly dorms work? Say for example your parent is Angriff, God of war, since he's a subordinate of Lidenschaft, the demigod will go to the Leidenschaft/blue dorm. The Red dorm on the outer edge is Geduldh's dorm and that's where all the student's who's parents who aren't subordinates of the supreme couple or the Eternal five (well, four in this case) such as childen of apprentice gods or even Chaocipher.

The schools are connected at the large circle where the garden of beginings are (and a long corridor) where Nobles could get their schtappes and demigods could go talk to Erwaermen to get news from their godly parents, bet the tree gets lonely, so now he gets to talk to a bunch of students~ Aren't I so nice? :)

There are 2 aus I'm imagine:

Nobles fogot demigods exist and due to magic and the hall that connects the two sides of the schools get sealed up, only the connection to the garden of beginings remain but nobles and demigods dont go through the other's eist, also Nobles can't see pass the blue line cuz there's this heavy fog but the Demigods could see just fine

Demigods and Nobles co-exist and know of eachothers existance, and while plenty of nobles look down on the demigods for their commoner background, lines of communication are still open between the two groups and there's no heavy fog stopping the nobles from seeing the demigod side or any wall from stopping them from mingling

For the sake of this post, let's go with the second option where demigods are remembered.

The Leidenschaft and Dunkelfelger's dorms are very close so they have ditter atleast thrice a week (Where Leidenschaft dorm wins almost every single ditter).

The Cuococalura kids (and kids of Cuococalura's apprentices) all get together to make breakfast, lunch and dinner for all the Godly dorms.

Kunstzeal and Vulcanift (plus apprentice) kids are in charge of the decorations

and those whose parents are responcable for harvest and hunting and blooms and stuff grow the food or hunt feybeasts for the meals.

Demigod-nobles, who's mortal parents are nobles are expected to finish their studies as fast as possible and then spend atleast 2 days a week on the demigod side of the RA/DA.

Also, while plenty of nobles look down on the demigods for their commoner origins, plenty more nobles order their children to make demigod connects or to even marry a demigod because of their high mana capacity and high attributes and bits of their godly powers shine through in the next generation.

E.g. A Drewanchel archnoble or archduke candidate might be told to woo a child of Mestionora or those of Dunkelfelger might try their luck with someone from the Leidenschaft dorm or a child of Leidenschaft even.

Imagine Rozemyne, who isn't a demigod but people think she's a demigod anyways cuz of her uncanny resemblence to Mestionora and her love for books ends up in the DA: Rozemyne: I don't think I should be here... I'm in the wrong place.. Student: Nonsense! You're at the right place! Rozemyne: I'm really not- Student: hushes her shhh... It's ok... It can be very hard being away from your parents firstie... Would you like to read the book from our library? Rozemyne: Remembering how sylvester said she can't go to the library until everyone passes Nevermind! I'm in the right place! I'd love to read!

Also, fun little snippit between a Dunkelfelger Archnoble and their Child of Angriff Fiance:

DA: What should we do for our wedding? CAF: Well we must have a celebratory ditter to celebrate our engagement DA: Ofcourse Dear CAF: And our pre-marriage because it's commoner custom to celebrate becoming married by having a bachelor party with our friends and what better party than a ditter? DA: Couldn't have said it better! CAF: Then we shall have an after marriage ditter where all the guest will participate DA: Lovely idea~! Shall we have a honeymoon ditter? CAF: But ofcourse! But first, we must have a pre-honeymoon ditter so we could come to a decision on where to spend our honeymoon! DA: Swooning marry me already! CAF: Not before our engagement celebration ditter or our pre-marriage ditter!

[justgleekout]

The Purrfect Crime

Summary: Kurt and Blaine were, as you say, “partners in crime”, but like, in the opposite sense… They were a long standing duo at the CIA. Headquarters knew they worked best when they worked together, so they just always did.

On their most recent mission however, their professional partnership is being tested as they go undercover as a married couple.

Rating: T

Words: 3,625

Additional tags: Fake Dating, spies!klaine, Friends to Lovers, crack elements, I really tried to be funny, smitten!blaine, Pining, oblivious!kurt?, Or Is he?, Alternate Universe

Notes: This work is a secret santa gift to @spaceorphan18! Merry Christmas!

First of all, I know this is a little late and I'm so sorry! I was struggling (to say the least) to get this done on time. As you can see, this is chapter one, because I just couldn't finish the whole thing and I didn't want you to wait any longer. I was so busy with work it's litereally not funny. I was pulling days from 7am til 9pm at some point. Then, when I started writing my first idea, I came to the realisation that I was including a very significant trope that was the oposit of what you had written on your wish list, so I had to start over... my own stupid mistake. Then, to make matters even worse, I spilled soda all over my laptop and it broke down completely. So I had to continue writing on my phone and ipad with a broken keyboard (I do NOT reccomend). I know, excuses excuses. I'm just bummed I didn't get it done on time. Also I now have to buy a new computer...

All that aside! I hope you like what I've got so far! I got really excited when I saw you wanted spies!klaine! A trope I absolutely love! Just note that I have never really written crack before, but I tried my best to make it fun add many silly elements! And I promise there are a lot more to come in the next part!!

Chapter: 1/?

Read on Ao3

They walked up to the gates of what could only be described as a palace (if America had those). The long and broad driveway behind the gates lead to a building so large and fancy looking, Blaine instinctively straightened his bowtie and readjusted his cufflinks. He knew he looked the part. Headquarters never sent out their agents in anything less than appropriate attire, but he couldn’t help it. He then glanced over at Kurt, who looked like he was a regular at this place, clad in a striking powder blue suit that perfectly brought out the colour of his eyes- no, Blaine, you are on a mission and he is your friend. He had to remind himself more and more frequently of the fact that they were partners in the professional sense only. No matter how gorgeous Kurt looked and how kind he was and how many flirty remarks he made at Blaine. 

“Did you get any information on what we are actually attending?” Kurt asked.

“No, chief Sylvester only gave me the location and this invitation.” Blaine held up a piece of royal blue parchment with a broken red and gold wax seal. The text on it was written in golden ink and read: 

“ Dear guest, 

Recently I received some incredible news concerning someone close to me that has enriched my life. I would like to share this news with you. Therefore, I hereby invite you to attend a celebratory party to join me in my glee on the evening of the 22nd of may at my residence. I would love to share with you a grand revelation that not even I know the outcome of. All that I will say is that it will be an evening full of surprises. 

Sincerely,

Hunter Clarington”

“What do you think it means?” Kurt asked as he took the paper from Blaine to inspect it further.

“I don’t know. But he is clearly up to something. Chief Sylvester said they got a hold of this invite right after they found suspicious signals and radiation coming from the address. They tracked all the vehicles going in and out of the vicinity. All transporting materials to build some sort of weapon… a powerful one.”

Kurt worried his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded, mulling over the information.

Blaine couldn't help but stare at Kurt's mouth as he licked his lips in thought. Blaine swallowed thickly and his breath hitched for a moment.

Kurt eyed him a little suspiciously. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Are you?” Great save, Blaine. Clever. 

Kurt shrugged. “A little, I guess.” 

Blaine didn’t actually expect that answer. “What? Why? You’re never nervous .” 

“Well I just don’t really fit in at these kinds of events… ”

Blaine frowned at Kurt. “What makes you say that?”

“Everyone here is rich, Blaine. I don’t know any of these etiquettes and inside jokes. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb…”

“Kurt, you are a spy for the CIA You are literally trained to fit in anywhere. I’ve seen you act. You’re a natural! And your suit looks incredibly expensive.” Better than mine anyways…

Kurt smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. I tailored it myself, actually.”

“A secret agent with secret talents. Seriously, Kurt, what can’t you do?”

“It’s not “Kurt” tonight, Remember?” 

“Right. Yes. Sorry, Mr. Ralph Murray, what can’t you do?” Blaine said to Kurt with a smile.

“Some secrets I don't dare share, not even with you, Mr. George Murray, darling. ” Kurt winked at Blaine.

And there it was; the reason Blaine was nervous in the first place. Tonight Kurt and he were Ralph and George Murray, husbands of five years, millionaires, and most importantly, on the guest list. It wouldn’t be a hard part to play; Kurt’s husband. Blaine had played that part often enough in his head. But Kurt didn’t know that, and Blaine would rather eat his bowtie than have Kurt finding out and Blaine making a fool out of himself. He just couldn't help but blush at the pet name Kurt gave him. 

Then, a sharp noise pierced his ear. Blaine flinched. This damn earpiece! And then a voice, “Hey guys, I’m glad to hear you are getting into character, but you better get in there. We have no clue where the signal is coming from within that building. And we need to find it fast. 

Right. Blaine thought. The stakes were high tonight. The nation was in danger and it was their job to secure its safety. “We best get in, then.”

“Oh before you do, I have hidden some gadgets for you in that bush over there on the left side of the gate.”

“Hold up. You have hidden our top secret, highly dangerous gadgets… in a bush?” Kurt said exasperatedly into his earpiece. 

“I figured they would be easily accessible…”

“Yeah. To literally everyone , Sam,” Kurt hissed.

“Oh… yeah…”

“Look, Sam, just tell us what you got us,” Blaine said as he crouched next to the bush, pushing the branches aside to reveal a suitcase. He opened it and Sam continued, “Alright. There is of course your trusted grenade pen, anaesthetic darts-watch and bulletproof handkerchief, but I have also added a few of my newest inventions.”

To this, Kurt shot Blaine an apprehensive look. They were a little too familiar with Sam's “ inventions” to say they were always a raging success. They looked into the suitcase and saw, beside their usual gadgets, something that looked like a small beauty case, an umbrella and a pair of sunglasses. “What the…” Kurt whispered under his breath.

Blaine frowned. “Sam, the event is inside… how are we supposed to casually pull out an umbrella or sunglasses?” 

“You're worried about the sunglasses? How do you reckon we are gonna be able to pull off using a, what is this, a lipstick ?” Kurt said as he held up a small golden tube. 

“I- hadn’t really thought about that,” Sam confessed.

Kurt looked like a vein was about to pop in his forehead as he pinched the skin between his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

“What do they do, Sam?” Blaine offered.

“Right, so, the umbrella is not only completely waterproof, it is also fire resistant and creates a perfect shield once unfolded. The sunglasses have infrared night vision and the lipstick is my personal favourite. It releases a toxic fume if you press that button on the back there, but that won't affect you when you are wearing the lipstick as it neutralises the toxins as they come close to it, so when you inhale, you're totally safe,” Sam said proudly.

Blaine had to admit the inventions sounded pretty incredible had they been more practical. “Alright,” he sighed. “Thank you, Sam.”

Kurt side eyed him and Blaine offered a shrug in return. 

“Well, we’d better get going, now. We’ll tune back in when we need you, Sam,” Kurt said and tapped on his earpiece once to hang up. Blaine followed. “Honestly, I can’t with him sometimes. I know you guys are friends, but he sure gets on my nerves.”

Maybe Sam didn't always have the best ideas, but he really wasn't bad at his job. Blaine thought. “He tries his best, though. And he is actually really great once you get to know him,” 

Kurt shook his head. “You’re too kind for your own good,” he said, but there wasn't any actual judgement in his voice. 

Blaine smiled and the blush he was sporting a minute ago returned faintly to his cheeks.

They walked through the gate towards a grand wooden front door in front of which a big woman was standing behind a podium with her arms crossed. "Names?" she said as she was eyeing them up and down suspiciously.

Blaine put on his most charming smile. “George and Ralph Murray,” he responded.

She looked at the register in front of her and her expression changed. “Ah! Splendid!" Welcome to the Clarington residence. All guests are expected in the ballroom for the welcome speech at 8:00 pm sharp. In the meantime there will be beverages and appetisers served in the grand foyer. Please enjoy your evening Mr. and Mr. Murray.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said and nodded to the woman. They walked past her as the doors opened. 

“Ballroom? Really?” Blaine whispered at Kurt as they made their way up the steps leading to the front door. “What is this place? Versaille?”

Kurt sniggered and gave Blaine a pointed look. “Play the part now, Blaine,” he said as they stepped over the threshold. 

They entered an incredible marble room with two grand staircases with golden railings on each side. Large pillars reached to the high ceiling on which, in the middle, hung an enormous crystal chandelier. Blaine’s mouth fell open and he heard Kurt release a low whistle. They quickly pulled themselves together as they were approached by a young handsome waiter. “Welcome, gentlemen. Can I offer you a drink? A glass of champagne perhaps? Cocktail?”

“I’ll have an old fashioned, thank you.” Kurt said with a confident, charming smile. See? Blaine knew Kurt had nothing to worry about. He was a natural. Blaine might have come from money, but Kurt just radiated class. 

“For me a negroni, please. Let’s save the champagne for later after the great announcement, don't you think?” Blaine said with a wink.

The young man blushed. “Certainly, sir.” 

“Say, do you happen to know anything about this speech?” Blaine asked him.

The waiter's eyes grew wide for a second. “I- I’m sorry sir, but it’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

“Of course. I’m sorry,” Blaine gave the waiter an understanding smile. The young man bowed his head gratefully and dashed away to get their drinks.

Blaine leaned into Kurt’s side, “You reckon he didn't know? Or he didn’t want to say?” he asked.

“Not sure… Would you share your secrets with the waiting staff?”

“I don’t know. I never had waiting staff.” 

“Hm.” Kurt gave him a considering look that lingered a bit too long. It made Blaine feel a little hot in the face.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Kurt shrugged. “I’m just trying to paint a picture of you.” When Blaine didn't respond immediately he added, “It's a good picture, don't worry.” There was something suggestive in the way Kurt spoke. Blaine looked at him as if to try figuring him out. Kurt was just good at playing his part. Blaine told himself. Though no one was looking at them at the moment so there was no direct reason for it.

“Let's ask around some more, shall we?” Kurt suggested, breaking the tension.

"Yeah. Good plan.”

The young waiter had returned with their drinks and they started moving through the crowd. They asked multiple people if they had any idea what they were doing here, but no one seemed to know or want to tell them anything. 

“This is hopeless. We are wasting valuable time.” Blaine slumped against one of the pillars. 

Kurt opened his mouth to respond but Blaine motioned for him to be quiet when he heard a woman speak; “See, I told you he was weird. Who hosts a party for their cat?” 

They turned to look where the voice came from. A latina woman with long dark hair in a fitted, red, velvet dress was talking to another woman. This one with blond hair styled in a stylishly messy updo and a mint green dress. 

“I would,” the blonde woman said solemnly. “And I have in the past.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different. You’re cute about it.” The dark haired woman flirted and the blonde one gave her a quick kiss. 

“Excuse me,” Blaine piped in.

The dark haired woman gave him a once over, clearly judging him.

“George Murray, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand and the woman took it with only slight reluctance. “This is my husband, Ralph Murray.” He gestured to Kurt who then also shook the woman’s hand. Blaine noticed that the look she gave him was a lot less disapproving. Though Blaine couldn't blame her when Kurt was wearing that suit. 

“Santana Lopez,” the dark haired woman introduced herself. “This is Brittany Pierce.”

The men shook Brittany's hand as well. “I’m sorry, we just couldn’t help but overhear… Do you happen to know what this event is for?”

“I’ve only heard rumours,” Santana said.

“I see. Where did you get these rumours from?” Blaine asked.

Santana crossed her arms. “Well aren’t you the little detective. What's it to you, anyways? 

“Just nosy.” Kurt’s smile turned a little more devious than polite, matching her energy.

“They say it’s his cat’s birthday, but that doesn’t explain the great announcement. Maybe his cat got nominated for an award.” Brittany said

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other in disbelief, and back at the women. “You can’t be serious,” Kurt said.

Santana crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Deadly.” 

“He can't be that passionate about a cat?”

“Wanna bet?” Santana challenged. “How do you think we know him?”

The men shrugged.

“We know him from cat shows.” Santana rolled her eyes. “Brittany’s cat, Lord Tubbington, often runs against his cat, Mr. Puss. So believe me when I say people are passionate about their cats. Anyways if you really wanna know, we heard it from Sebastian Smythe.”

“Who is that?” 

“He is one of Hunter's closest friends .” She grinned as if to imply something.

“Do you think Hunter told him about his plans for the night?” Blaine asked, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice.

“I’m sure he did. I overheard them talking about half an hour ago. Something about ‘getting it ready in the basement.’ ” She shrugged.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a meaningful look. “Do you know how we can get in there?” Kurt asked.

“I'm sure Sebastian has a keycard to the elevator. But hold up, why do you want to know so bad?”

“Never mind that. What does he look like; Sebastian?” Kurt asked.

Santana smirked. “Oh you can’t miss him.” 

Brittany then took Santana's hand and whispered something in her ear. They giggled. “Look we’d love to stay and chat, but we, er, we gotta go.” Santana said before she was pulled away by Brittany. Santana managed to add a “good luck” as they disappeared into the crowd. 

“What do we do now?” Blaine sighed. “We have no clue where to find this Sebastian character,”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kurt said and pointed over Blaine’s shoulder. 

Blaine turned to look, and there, in the middle of a group of people, stood a handsome man who was clearly the centre of attention. The people around him were laughing at his jokes and basically fawning over him. “You reckon that’s him?” Blaine asked.

“ Oh my god, Sebastian! You didn’t!” one of the guys closest to him laughed and flirtily touched the man’s arm. 

Sebastian petted the guy’s hand and smirked. “You should hear what I did with his father,” he said and winked at the woman next to him. The people around him all laughed.

Blaine snorted. “Well that answers that,” he said.

“He looks incredibly obnoxious,” Kurt said and narrowed his eyes. “He is flirting with literally everyone in his little group.” He grimaced.

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage?” Blaine thought out loud. However he didn’t really feel like watching Kurt chat up another man. He would just have to do it himself. “I will go and talk to him!” 

“Wait, maybe-” but before Kurt could protest, Blaine had stepped into the circle of people. Sebastian's eyes were immediately on him. 

“Well hello handsome,” Sebastian said and extended his hand towards Blaine. “I don’t think we’ve met. You look like someone I wouldn’t easily forget.” He grinned.

Despite his better judgement, Blaine blushed. The man was handsome, alright. And definitely charismatic, judging by the effect he had on the people around him. “We haven't. My name is George Murray. Are you Sebastian Smythe?” Blaine asked as he shook the man’s hand. 

“Matter of fact I am. To what do I owe this pleasure?”  

“I was talking to some friends of mine and you sounded… interesting” Blaine smiled a what he hoped was a seductive smile. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and turned away from Blaine for a second to make a dismissive gesture to his followers. “Could you give us a moment please?” 

The small crowd looked annoyed, some even jealous, but they obeyed, leaving the two men to themselves. Sebastian turned back to Blaine “Interesting, hm?” he grinned. 

Now that they were talking Blaine realised he didn’t actually have a solid plan. He couldn’t straight up ask Sebastian to give him the key. He would never just hand it over. Maybe Blaine could convince Sebastian to take him to the basement? But he needed Kurt with him. So he had to think of something else.

“They said you were close friends with the host,” Blaine said, trying to imply exactly whatever Santana was implying before. “I can see why he would like you,” he flirted. Apparently this was the right move, as Sebastian looked him up and down let his gaze rest on Blaine’s mouth. 

Sebastian leaned in closer. “You’re cute, George Murray. How come I’ve never seen you before?” 

“I- I’m usually very busy with eh- work. Don’t-“ Blaine swallowed. “Don’t often have time for parties.” Out of the corner of his eye Blaine noticed movement. He glanced over Sebastian's shoulder and saw that Kurt was miming something. “Back pocket!” He mouthed. What about his back pocket? Wait. Sebastian’s back pocket! The keycard was in sebastians back pocket!

Sebastian, who luckily didn’t seem to have noticed anything, spoke again, “Ah, so you're Mr. Professional, hm? Do you always obey the rules or are you capable of letting loose every once in a while?”

“Er, yeah sure,” Blaine said semi on auto pilot. How the hell was he supposed to get the key-card from Sebastian’s pocket? “What about you?” he asked. “Are you a rule breaker?”

“You could say that,” Sebastian quipped. 

Blaine laughed. He needed to get very close and personal with this man but whilst he was doing so, he might as well find out some more information.

“I was wondering,” Blaine said and trailed his finger over Sebastian’s chest. “As you’re such a bad boy, would you mind telling me what tonight is all about?” Blaine looked up through his eyelashes. 

Sebastian inhaled through his teeth. “Oh babe, I can’t tell you that. It’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

“I thought you didn't play by the rules.” 

“Why don’t you come upstairs with me where we can have a little more privacy and I can tell you all you want to know.” Sebastian said and slipped an arm around Blaine’s back. 

This was his chance. He could take it now and Sebastian wouldn't notice. He just didn’t know how to get out of the situation once he made his move. Blaine looked over his shoulder in search of Kurt and found him looking at them. Blaine gave him a quick pleading look, hoping Kurt would understand. Here goes nothing. He put his hand on Sebastian's back and slid it down to rest over his butt. “Sounds amazing...” Blaine felt the card in Sebastian's pocket. “...but I forgot to mention…” He slid his fingers into the pocket over the card, trying to pull it off as a caress, and as he retreated his hand he pulled the card out. Got it. “...that I'm married.” 

As if on cue, Kurt stepped in front of them. “Darling! There you are! I was looking for you.” He smiled a bit too sweetly at Blaine. “Who’s our new friend?” he asked and shot a murdering look at Sebastian. 

“Woah, what the hell?” Sebastian took a step back, letting go of Blaine. 

Blaine quickly slipped the key-card into his own pocket and stepped closer to Kurt. “Ralph, honey, this is Sebastian. He is a close friend of Hunter’s. Sebastian, this is my husband, Ralph Murray.”

“Husband? Wow,” Sebastian said. “Was not expecting that.” 

Kurt held out his hand. “Pleasure,” he said through gritted teeth.

Sebastian took Kurt’s hand and shook it once. 

Kurt turned to Blaine again. “Well it’s almost 8 o’clock. We should get going, darling.” 

“Right.” Blaine nodded. “Maybe we can talk later?” he offered innocently to Sebastian as if nothing had happened. “It was very nice meeting you.” 

“Sure was,” Sebastian said and winked at Blaine, clearly recovered from the initial shock. “I am looking forward to seeing you again, George.”

Kurt then pulled Blaine away by his hand through the crowd, leaving Sebastian behind. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Blaine said once they had found a quiet corner.

“You didn't really seem like you needed saving,” Kurt said coldly.  

“What do you mean? If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have been able to get away!” 

“I mean, ” Kurt said. “It didn't seem like you had such a terrible time with him. I know you needed to get the card, but how are we supposed to come across as a happily married couple when you are feeling up all the other guests.” He crossed his arms defensively.

Blaine stared at Kurt for a second. Then it dawned on him. “Wait, Kurt, are you jealous?”  

“No,” Kurt snapped. 

“Oh my god, you are totally jealous.”

Kurt’s cheeks turned red. “Shut up, I'm trying to take this mission seriously. Did you at least get the key?”

Blaine couldn't help but grin as he presented it. “Got it right here.”

“Great. Let's go try it out before he finds out it’s missing. We need to get to the basement before it’s 8 o’clock.” 

[thecunnydiaries]

21st Tuesday

Fine: Sailing among the ice: the floes getting apparently heavier. Got fast once or twice, Erebus the same. Seen Several Seals on the ice: one whale Spouted close under the bows. In the Evening, came on very foggy: both ships Kept firing muskets at intervals of five minutes. During the day getting everything ready for the use of Sylvester's "Patent" heating Apparatus

[necromatador]

I must know the character tropes for 'How to be a Villain and Fail Miserably'

So this is my oldest original story with my oldest OCs, and as such I'll give a slightly longer list to give one trope for each main character and one for each of their nemeses.

The Protagonists

Spike Koreal - Mad Scientist (of the Mad Biologist flavor)

Mikael "Crypt" Dean - (accidental) Deal with the Devil

Balthazar "Beetle" Aedan - Cats Are Superior (he is a cat demon)

Piran Skullblade - Black Knight

The Nemeses

Sylvester Crow - Maker of Monsters

Lord of Lies - Sealed Evil in a Can

Argos Valgrimen - Aristocrats Are Evil

Coruia Blade-ender - False Prophet

[the-whispers-of-death]

butcher: well. now i dont feel like this is a judgement-free zone anymore

he did shit like "stealing" fallen fruits from trees and just monching on them, but mārīte took that a bit further. he still doesnt even know she did that. neither does sylvester. in her defense, anything she ate either looked clean, or was in sealed packages.... mostly.

hes trying to tell me he only did it because "well. that apple or whatever was on the ground anyways, and if its good, its mine now. who gives a shit? the tree?" but had to stop because the heart of the city didnt have many random fruit trees around to snatch from

So what I'm hearing is that at the ranch in the ranch AU, he picks fruit from any fruit trees near the ranch.

When it comes to spring time, Kali just works in the ranch and passes by Butcher who is always munching on a fruit that fell off the trees nearby.

[cbs-scorpion-coffee-shop]

Here are a few takes.

Tim should've never liked or bonded with Ralph. It is extremely difficult for a man to love another man's child. So for a guy who was Navy Seal used to short term relationships. It would've been a better story to have him treat Ralph bad behind Paige's back that he has to come to Walter for help. Plus then the Veronica story makes more sense as to hating Tim.

Walter actually had a very good handle on his emotions. You can't empathize with Sylvester when he found him, understand what Ralph is thinking or doing. Or be willing to gamble to get Toby out of trouble and debt if you have no emotion. You can't invest or believe in someone without compassion and understanding of their plight. There is feelings to doing what he did. Walter was just a social introvert who learned to compartmentalize his emotion after Baghdad because he realized he was capable of mass destruction to the world and didn't like the feeling. This also plays into his trusting of people.

Walter actually isn't attracted to Florence (nightmare not dream notwithstanding). He saw her in the same way he saw the others as an outcast needing a place to thrive.

Ralph would runaway and leave his mother because of what she did at the end. If he couldn't work for Scorpion, he wouldn't work for any of them.

Fax

[iepurasdepraf]

I ah... here. Take a crumb of something I've been working on. I'm still writing. The anons just make it very hard to post.

“Oh, come on.” You groaned leaning over so you could look up at the manor your car sat in front of. It… wasn’t impressive, at least compared to what you were used to. And old. It was REALLY old. Where was he? You turned your hand up to check your watch again, peeking down the sleeve of your antique mink coat that your missing date had given you. You’d been waiting forty minutes now. 

“Miss, I think we should take this opportunity to…” Your butler cleared his throat “better our circumstances and leave this godforsaken place.” “Oh, Sylvester, don’t be like that.” You gave him a look with a furrowed brow. He was looking at you so softly. So very softly, that old man loved you. He practically raised you and only wanted the best for you. He was more like a grandpa than the help. It wasn’t the best part of town, but it was hardly the worst. Safe enough to idle the limo in, at least. 

“I’m going to knock.” You said gathering your skirts up to get out “I can honk the horn again, miss.” “No, I’m going to go knock.” “I apologize, but I would prefer you stay seated, mam.” He took hold of the wrist of your free hand, just barely holding you in place. It was enough to stop you. His nice clean silk glove was so soft and the warmth was the most delicate and gentle plea to stay. He’d never manhandle you and you knew it so him even doing this was quite a statement from him. “For my sake.” Oh, he’s pulling that card. What a fuddy-duddy! You pout at him for a moment, you’re giving one another the puppy eye and equal measure. Ah, an impasse. So you smile, pull your hand free, and say “Well, we got to make sure that old ticker is still working somehow, don’t we?” 

“Miss!” He was aghast as you opened the door and stepped out onto the near grass consumed drive of the manor house. “I’ll go!” He offers as you move to shut the door already opening his. “I’ll ring for you, mam. Please, remain seated. I-” “You,” You grin at Sylvester who’s heart is surely still pumping after over twenty years of taking care of you, look at that! “Need to watch the car.” “Miss.” He was flustered now. “I’ll be right back! And if I’m not,” You pause thinking of what activity to give him “Call the police.” With that you shut the car door and hear a faintly muffed thump and followed by a “Damn.” from inside the car that makes you snort laugh.

You cross the drive and tip tip tap, skip your way up the crumbling stairs to the massive double doors. They had a big ol’ C and some coat of arms on them. They were so beautiful. You’d never been inside, but you’d always loved the doors when you’d driven by before he even came up out of the sewer. You ran your hand over the chipping paint of the seal, leather gloved finger tips caressing the curve of that gilded C. It took a moment of looking around to find the bell. And old pull string one. One, two, three times you yanked it until there was a sudden loosening and inside you heard something metal clatter to the floor. 

You gasped softly and looked back at Sylvester in the car. You’d broken the bell. That was… fine. It was fine. Nothing to worry about. Things happen. You’d just pay to have it fixed, right? All the same, there was no answer. It probably couldn’t even be heard through the whole house by design and he didn’t have a butler. He didn’t have anyone.

So you try the door, he was probably just up in one of the rooms and missed the bell. There was no way he just wasn’t answering you. Dust showered down onto you and for a moment you considered if this was worth it. It was. God, you hoped there weren’t spiders in any of that. The door was locked, but you weren’t accepting that right now. Not after waiting and having bits rained down on you. 

From the hair Sylvester had so lovingly styled for you this afternoon you pull a bobby pin that you twist until it was just right to pick the lock. You’d done it a million times to get into your dad’s office or smoking room after he and your mom had a fight. It clicks open quick and easy like Debby on prom night. You leave the pin in the lock for your butler if the worst happens, shooting him a thumbs up. He looks absolutely wretched in his seat.

You enter the manor and close the door behind you without looking around first. It’s suddenly very dark and quiet. It nearly feels unnaturally cold, perhaps it is. The place is suspended in a jello of dust, trapped in time with the chaos outside only making it ripple instead of catastrophically shift. It looked like there should be people. You expect someone to round any of the corners you pass as you go deeper, but no one does. The only sign people have even been through in the past 100 years or so is a little trail of shuffling footprints. They were his, you could tell because one foot was bigger than the other. 

“Where’s the man of the house? He’s late for his date!” You call out jokingly into the seemingly empty house hoping you’d hear him come high speed waddling toward you so you could both get out of this creepy place. He had to be here. He couldn’t legally drive, you weren’t entirely sure that would stop him though, didn’t have a driver like you did, and you were pretty sure he couldn’t get out of the line of sight of the house if he tried to walk somewhere. He just wasn’t built for it. That wasn’t his fault. 

There wasn’t any response so you tried “Oswald?” He didn’t like it when you called him by his government name, but you didn’t want to call him The Penguin like he was an animal at the zoo so the two of you were at an impasse with that. Still no response, but this time while listening for a reply you heard something move on the floor above you. Something too big to be a rat or at least you hoped so.

[denimbex1986]

'If you’ve been a Doctor Who fan for a while then you for sure weren’t looking forward to saying goodbye to David Tennant‘s version of the character yet again. The first time was a gut punch and the end of an era with showrunner Russell T Davies departing as well. What followed has been decidedly mixed with great Doctors (Matt Smith, Peter Capaldi, and Jodie Whittaker) and uneven creative direction. It’s to the point that Davies’ return as showrunner (to the show that he rebooted 18 years ago) feels like a rescue mission designed to excite the fan base.

Bringing Tennant back for three special episodes (the last of which aired Saturday) was surely phase 1 of that plan, but it came with some risk, specifically that the audience would predictably fall in love with Tennant again and want him to stay, creating a potential barrier for the incoming Doctor, Ncuti Gatwa (Sex Education, Barbie). In the wake of Saturday’s episode, “The Giggles,” those worries have mostly disappeared thanks to a bold move that messes with over 60 years of established continuity.

Big, explodey, and emotional regenerations are out, bi-generations are in, allowing Time Lords to branch off from one another as opposed to having to essentially die so the other can live. The ultimate 2-for-1 deal. A little confused? Us too. A little miffed at the continuity shakeup? No. To hell with tradition. It’s a 60-year-old TV show. Old words are for politicians and Sunday school teachers to cling to. Everyone else should enjoy a good resorting from time to time.

But what does it all mean? The bi-generation makes a lot of things possible, from a narrative standpoint. Most obviously, there’s the possibility that Tennant’s legendary run as The Doctor may not actually be over. He’s just off in the garden having a wonderful time being happy and surrounded by his best friend Donna Noble (Catherine Tate) and her family while Gatwa’s Doctor draws all focus while skipping across time and space. But what if he needs a hand? Or what if Tennant’s Doctor takes his TARDIS out for a spin of his own, falling into familiar trouble in the occasional special episode that’s divorced from the show’s main story?

It’s not just Tennant. Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker – they could all make an appearance, theoretically, because according to Davies, the bi-generation wasn’t just about Gatwa’s 15th Doctor and Tennant’s latest iteration of the character.

From an episode commentary recorded by Davies and reported on by The Radio Times, Davies is saying, essentially, every single past regeneration has been retroactively made into a bi-generation:

“I think all of the Doctors came back to life with their individual TARDISes, the gift of the Toymaker, and they’re all out there travelling round in what I’m calling a Doctor verse.

“Sylvester McCoy woke up in a drawer, in a morgue, in San Francisco… and Jon Pertwee woke up on the floor of the laboratory,” he says.

This is absolutely chaotic and I love it. I’ll say this, though, while Davies opened the seal with this one and while it gave Tennant’s Doctor a wonderful ending rooted in the idea that every once in a while a warrior gets to claim a reward and some peace, I do wonder if he will someday be called back into battle to help close that seal and forfeit that reward. That would be very Doctor Who. It would also acknowledge the blessing and curse of the Time Lord’s lifespan. It’s something that was conveniently explained away the last time Tennant’s Doctor (or a version of) got such a reward with the mortal half-human/half-time lord version living in another universe with Rose Tyler. But this Doctor can’t spend the rest of his lifetime being happy in the garden with Donna. He can only do it for the rest of her lifetime, if that.

While the bi-generation and Davies’ tease hints at the possibility of bigger adventures and returning favorites, it may not qualify as the most important moment from the episode. Before we discuss that, though, can we just take a moment to talk about the energy, light, and confidence coming off of Ncuti Gatwa as The Doctor? So commanding right from the start. Remember when Tennant’s Doctor burst into existence after Christopher Eccleston’s Doctor regenerated? How he had to have a lie down in his bathrobe. Gatwa’s Doctor is ready to roll out of the box and a breath of fresh air. I can’t wait to see what he does within this wild sandbox Davies has constructed.

Alright, the most important moment of the episode was the hug between Gatwa and Tennant. After the bi-generation and the defeat of The Toymaker, Tennant’s Doctor is filled with grief over the lives lost and his role in inadvertently inspiring The Toymaker’s appearance. But Gatwa stops the spiral, grabs him, locks eyes (like Tennant did with Tate in the previous episode to reassure her), and tries to free him from all this burden. It’s a beautiful moment, but also symbolic for what may be on the horizon week to week.

I don’t want to make it like Doctor Who didn’t operate from a place of grief and worry about the impact of his actions during Davies’ run. There was a certain haunted quality to both Eccleston and Tennant’s portrayals over all the devastation and carnage they had seen, but Steven Moffat, who took the showrunner baton after Davies left, leaned into it a bit more, focusing on The Doctor’s identity and the hard choices he had to make to save existence, even while destroying his own people. It was a lot to wrestle with. A lot of angst and sadness (with some joy too), which is referred to in the specials when Donna checks in on what The Doctor has been up to for 15 years. And so it was nice that someone offered him absolution while at the same time, creating a clean slate for Davies to remake the show (again) with Gatwa’s Doctor being somewhat lighter without all that weight on him. The regenerated Doctor has always been new, but this Doctor is newer than new, it seems, and we are here for it and everything else Davies has planned with or without a few extra Time Lords from time to time.'