#dalton really understood the assignment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedaltonsanctuary · 5 years ago

Photo

Welcome NOAH PUCKERMAN to the Dalton Sanctuary as a DOMINANT STAFF. Please send in your blog within the next 48 hours or we will have to reopen your role. You may begin dash activity immediately, no need to wait for anything else once your blog is made.

✎ OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

ALIAS/PRONOUNS: Azi / They/Them AGE: 27 TIMEZONE: PST TRIGGERS: ANYTHING ELSE: Puck’s FC - Grey Damon

✎ IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

NAME: Noah Joseph Puckerman AGE/BIRTHDAY: 31 GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis-Male / He/Him SUB/DOMINANT/SWITCH?: Dominant STAFF/RESIDENT/VISITOR?: Staff - Firefighter SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Often, (pansexual / polyamorous) KINKS: Bondage, CTB, Orgasm Control/Denial, M/s, Daddy Kink, Public sex, impact play, sensory play, TPE ANTI-KINKS: Vore, Gore, Scat, Feet, ABDL, DDLG, DDLB

✎ BRIEF BIOGRAPHY

Noah Puckerman was born in Knoxville, TN, in 1989. Though he technically had a father, he was never really around, and as Puck grew, he stopped considering him his father and just considered him his sperm donor. After his sister Sarah was born, that’s when his Dad really fucked off. For most of his life, it was just him, and his mom, and eventually his sister. To say that Puck had a tendency to ‘act out’ was an understatement: he was always getting into trouble, always getting sent to the principal’s office, or getting detention. He was held back in middle school, for one year, and had to take summer school just to get into high school. He’d always been a troubled kid, most of which was definitely contributed to how infrequent his father was around. Puck grew up being told that he was a loser, who would never leave Knoxville, and was destined to be a loser for the rest of his life. He didn’t have the best grades in school, and though he was good at sports, he never excelled enough to get a scholarship. The only thing he really succeeded at was sleeping around, thus resulting in having the sex shark reputation. This reputation is the reason that, in his junior year, he got someone pregnant. It was a night where, unlike most nights, he forgot protection, wine coolers were consumed, and mistakes were made. The girl this happened with was someone he had been in love with, not that he’d ever said anything, but she was transferred away before the kid was born.

He barely graduated high school and didn’t get into a single college. When he was given the test and marked Dominant, that came as no surprise to people, but they also had little hope that he would ever find a claim, especially not before 25. That wasn’t a concern for him, because he didn’t care.

After working construction jobs, he eventually got fed-up with feeling like a nobody, and wanted to be more than just some Knoxville Loser.

Puck decided to attend a job fair one weekend, to see what options were out there for a high school graduate with no college education. Due to his arrest record, being a cop was out of the question, and paramedic seemed like a lot more school than he wanted. He eventually wound up at the firefighter table, and talked to the guy who was there. Within a week… he was enrolled.

Thanks to his athleticism, the physical aspect of the job was easy for him, and though the written wasn’t as good, he studied his ass off and managed to get a good enough grade that he was accepted. He had never been more proud of himself in his life.

He got assigned a station, and jumped right into the job. He’s been a firefighter for the last 9 years, and made it to the rank of lieutenant.

Throughout his years, Puck eventually found a submissive, someone that understood he was poly, but that he would also be devoted to his partner in as many ways as he could be. They entered a claim, and Puck was happy. Unfortunately, Puck also knew that both his and her job were dangerous; that’s what you get for being a firefighter in a claim with a cop.

One night, his sub got a call, routine, nothing he should have been worried about. This was the call she never came home from.

Ever since, Puck has not been in a claim with anyone, but needed to leave Knoxville and go somewhere else. He had no worry to find a claim, he honestly didn’t want one, because losing Nat broke his heart, not that he’d ever say it, and couldn’t do it again.

The Dalton Sanctuary intrigued him, and though he knew that the gig wouldn’t be even close to the same as being in a bigger city, with more calls, a fresh start, where no one knew him, seemed like a great idea.

#noah puckerman rp #glee rp #glee ds rp #glee smut rp #mature rp #sanctuary:admin #accepted

2 notes · View notes

mac-in-cairo · 6 years ago

Text

assignment

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None Apply

Fandom: MacGyver (2016)

Relationship: Jack Dalton & Matty Webber

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Fake Science, Missions, Human Jack Dalton

This belongs to a series: hand in hand on ao3 / tumblr

Author’s Note: I honestly totally forgot to post these on tumblr, so I figured why not do it now. Also, the first three parts of this series were written during the MacGyver Create-a-thon, so thank you for hosting @thephoenixfoundationpresents !

assignment

Jack has one default obsession: fairy wings. Which sounds weird, he knows that, thank you very much. But Jack’s interest is of scientific nature. There’s always been speculation about how different humans and fairies are, both anatomically and psychologically and culturally, and while Jack doesn’t mind talking about the latter ones, it’s the first one that has always been the most urgent matter.

Fairies have wings - humans do not. That alone might be the most significant difference between humans and fairies, a purely physical thing.

Jack has always wondered how it would feel to have wings. Are they like normal limbs? Can they fall asleep? Are they ticklish? Are they heavy?

It’s one of his favourite things to think about. He’s just very, very curious about wings, okay? But the problem is this: Fairies have their own communities - there is little contact between humans and fairies (ignoring the fairy tales and horror stories children have been told for centuries). So it seems unlikely he’ll ever get to ask a fairy about them.

He had thought that due to his work for the CIA and then the Phoenix Foundation, Jack was more likely to get to meet a fairy one day. They had to communicate with the rest of the world somehow, right? And working for the American government seems like the way to ensure he’ll get to meet even the most reclusive people. However, so far he’s met no fairies at all. It sucks a little if he’s being honest.

Anyway. Jack is just really curious about fairies, so he should be happy. But he isn’t really prepared when he gets the assignment.

He knows he looks a little stupid, gaping like a fish, but… he’s supposed to do what?

Matty is one of his oldest friends, so she lets him think it over. It’s a little hard to wrap his head around the assignment, because… “You want me to team up one of their agents?”

“One of their scientists, yes.”

“A scientist?” This assignment is going to suck. Jack has been teamed up with scientists before - human ones so far, but whatever - and it always went downhill. They assumed he was a stupid idiot with a gun, he assumed they had a basic understanding of military training, and, last time, it ended with someone getting shot. Only in the leg, but Matty wasn’t happy. Jack wasn’t either, so at least they had that in common. He is not keen on a repeat performance.

He throws his hands up. “Oh, c’mon, Matty! Remember how that went last time? Why do I always get the babysitting job?”

Matty looks at him like he’s an idiot. It’s a look he’s used to. “First rule, Jack: Do not under any circumstances offend them. We need to be on good terms with them.”

Jack wants to protest. He would never fuck this up on purpose, he’s just worried that it will go downhill anyway. A glare from her makes his mouth snap shut - she’s serious about this then.

“So, what am I supposed to do on that assignment? Investigate with the nerd, help with the case? Or am I just there to protect them?”

The look on Matty’s face softens a little, so she looks less like she’s going to smack him on the back of the head. “Your mission is to protect the scientist while you both investigate. There have been multiple cases of abduction of fairies in the past few weeks, and their agency is afraid that they might be in the hands of humans, subjecting them to experiments.”

Jack can feel a shudder run down his spine. It’s bad enough when people start messing with other humans, but after the existence of fairies came out, there had been a big discussion if they should have the same rights as humans. Because technically they aren’t… human. The whole discussion had made Jack sick. Those are people, not some plants.

And now someone might be experimenting with them. Jack has been long enough in this business to know that, if that is what’s happening, they will probably be treated even worse than human victims would be. Psychos who abducted people rarely treated humans well, and they surely won’t treat people they assume lesser-than-human any better.

Jack can feel his mouth settle into a grim line, nodding at Matty.

“Who am I working with?”

The change in his behaviour seems to appease her, but her eyebrows draw together, making her look displeased nonetheless. “We don’t know yet.”

He can feel his own surprise. That’s… uncommon. Usually, he gets all the info about his partner beforehand. “Any reason why?”

Matty makes a sound that Jack puts somewhere between a huff and a sigh, but it definitely sounds annoyed. “They are, apparently, currently still figuring out who’s taking the assignment. I don’t know why they have not settled that beforehand, but I assume it is because of the sensitivity of this case.” Her eyes get a little sharper, focusing on Jack. “We can not afford to fuck this one up, Jack. You better be on your best behaviour, or I’ll have your ass shipped back to Texas.”

Jack raises his hands in mock surrender. “No messing around, ma’am. Understood.”

Matty shoots him another look before she sends him away. Jack is barely out the door when it hits him that this means he’ll actually get to interact with a fairy. Maybe this assignment won’t suck, after all.

say hi on ao3?

#macincairowrites #jack dalton #Matty Webber #macgyver #also on ao3 #fairy au #macincairo fairy au #fairy au part 1

3 notes · View notes

dannilea · 6 years ago

Text

Birthday + Family

Summary: Jack wasn't expecting much for his birthday beyond the usual text messages and dinner at Mac's, but his kids never stop surprising him. Rating: G

AO3

Jack knows that Mac and Riley are full grown adults that are fully capable of taking care of themselves, but Jack still worries. It doesn’t matter that they’re both nearly thirty now – a fact that makes Jack feel old in ways Mac’s most hair raising stunts don’t -he always sees the angry and weary kids he first met when he looks at them (Riley, twelve and angry and protective, not wanting anyone to ever hurt her mother again, and Mac, nineteen and angry and so afraid of letting anyone in). Jack will always be worried about his kids.

Especially when they’re scheming.

It's one thing when they’re scheming on missions. Its something else when they’re home in sunny LA and have roped Matty into being their distraction. The director had summoned Jack and promptly informed him that he was to stay there until Matty declared otherwise. Jack, remembering the way Mac and Riley had had their heads ducked together all day, knew immediately that Matty had been recruited to act as the distraction in whatever scheme his kids had cooked up.“You know,” Jack said, “I don’t think this is how distractions work.”

Matty snorted and didn’t look up from the tablet she was working on. The two of them were in the War Room, Matty co-ordinating with an ops team and Jack was stretched out on the couch, feet propped on the table, offering occasional tactical advice but was otherwise occupied with trying to get Matty to reveal whatever Riley and Mac were up to.

“My job is to keep you out of Blondie and Riley’s way while they do their thing. Nobody said I couldn’t make you be productive while I did that,” Matty said, shooting him a look out of the corner of her eye. Jack grinned back and Matty tolled her eyes.

“C’mon,” Jack cajoled, “Can’t you give me even a little hint as to what they’re up to? The two of them scheming like that makes me twtichy, ‘cause they’re either planning some kind of prank or world domination.”

“Quit being dramatic, Dalton. MacGyver and Riley are big kids and can take care of themselves, so quit worrying.”

Jack snorted. “You’ve met my kids, right? I leave them alone for five minutes and someone gets kidnapped! Or builds a bomb or hacks the NSA!”

“Seriously Jack?” Matty asks, voice full of exasperation (with the faintest trace of fondness). Her tone implying that she might be close to losing a bit of her temper with him. Jack knew she wasn’t – if she was really angry at him the tone wouldn’t be exasperated, it’d be sub-zero cold and Jack’d already be on his way to the worst possible assignment she could dig up for him.

Jack knows his family.

“Seriously, Matty. They’re both trouble magnets. Especially Mac.” Jack continued to grumble under his breath about the trouble his boy tended to find himself in, as Matty wrapped things up with the team she was coordinating with. Jack was well aware that she wasn’t really listening to him, and was humoring him by letting him talk. Once upon a time, they were partners and Matty knew that talking was just how Jack kept calm. Major fallout and breach of trust all those years ago or not, they still knew each other in ways no one else would. Its what made working together again possible – what allowed Matty to be folded into their tight-knit family. Jack would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad to have her back in his life.

Matty’s phone gave a quick ping, alerting both of them to an incoming text. Matty checked her phone before turning and pointing at Jack.

“Get out of here and over to Blondie’s house. He and Riley are ready for you.”

Jack blinked, “Ready for me? Wha -”

“Shut up and get out of my hair Dalton!”

Jack skedaddled.

---

Jack pulled into Mac’s drive, eyes darting around, looking for any sign of something wrong. He really wasn’t lying to Matty earlier when he said Mac and Riley scheming together made him twitchy. He was genuinely lucky to have the greatest kids – both incredibly smart, talented, kind, and determined to do good in the world – but he was well aware of the kind of trouble they could find themselves in. Have found themselves in before.

He loves them dearly, but Mac and Riley are definitely the reason he has grey hairs.

Not seeing anything out of place, Jack hopped out of the car and jogged up to the door. He opened it with his usual disregard for social niceties like knocking at Mac’s house, and ducked inside the entryway. He’s mildly bemused by the birthday party hat perched on the polar bear’s head and the blue and white balloons carefully wrapped in his claws.

“Yo, Mac!’ Jack shouted as he headed for the kitchen after kicking the door closed. “What’s goin’ on, man?”

“We’re on the deck!” Mac shouted back, ignoring Jack’s question completely. A little miffed, Jack huffed and was about to launch into a tirade about how rude millennials are and why Mac should respect his elders that gets stopped before he even has the chance to get going. Jack, having just walked into the living room, stopped short when he saw the deck through the windows.

Mac had pulled out the table they used for large dinner gatherings out on the deck, and he and Riley had decked it out with a Cowboys table cloth and assorted disposable plates – the kind you find for cheap at a party store (though where the two of them would have found Dallas Cowboys party gear in Los Angeles was a little lost on Jack). They’d even managed to get Dallas gift bags.

Jack, after a moment of gaping, switched his gaze to his kids. They were both looking a little nervous, but also determined. Jack wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he got here – fire and chaos, probably – but what looked like some kind of surprise birthday party definitely wasn’t it.

Riley crossed her arms and gave Jack a challenging look. “Are you coming out here or not, old man?”

Jack’s brain and feet finally reconnected and he made his way outside to the deck, trying to figure out what has his kids feeling so unsure. This could all be a giant joke and he’d still love it because a) Cowboys, and b) his kids put this together. How could he not love it?

And that’s when Jack got a better look at the table.

There was cake in the middle of the table, and it was the only thing that wasn’t decked out in blue and white. Instead, Mac and Riley had gotten one of those fancy photo cakes – the ones with an actual picture made out of icing. The photo was one of Jack’s favorites - it featured him, Mac and Riley, arms thrown over each others’ shoulders, laughing at some joke Bozer had told before snapping the picture.

Jack looked up from the table to look at Mac and Riley.

“Surprise?” Mac said.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “It definitely is.” Jacks could feel the grin stretching across his face as he quickly closed the distance between him and his kids. Without reserve or hesitation, he threw his arms around both of them. Mac laughed and Riley huffed.

“You haven’t even opened your presents yet, Jack.” Mac said. Jack pulled back, keeping a hand on Mac and Riley’s shoulders.

“Don’t know if I need to now. You and Riley doing this is about the best birthday gift a guy can ask for.”

Riley reached around him and snagged one of the gift bags sitting on the table. She held it up in front of his face and raised an eyebrow (a move that made her look even more like her mother- especially when she was somewhere between amused and exasperated with whatever Jack was doing).

“At least this one, Jack,” she said. “We picked it out together.”

Jack’s grin softened into a smile – the one he always seemed to have around his kids – as he took the bag from Riley. Mac’s fingers twitched as he watched. Jack had no doubt that if he had a paperclip it’d be twirling and twisting through his fingers. Jack had no idea why his kids were so nervous. Unless its another Cowboys snuggy, in which case Mac really needs to learn to up his gift giving game.

Jack lifted opened the bag and lifted the tissue paper (also decked out in blue and white, Jack was gonna have to talk with his kids because yes he loved the Cowboys but this was a bit much even for him), which revealed a rolled up t-shirt inside the bag. Based the apparent theme of the party, Jack had a feeling he knew what the dark blue shirt was. More than a little bemused he reached in and grabbed it, setting the bag down by his feet as he let the shirt unroll -

Bright white letters, bold across the shirt.

World’s Okayest Dad.

Jack’s eyes start to burn and he can feel his lips trying to tremble. His smile had faltered in his surprise and Jack pushed through it to smile – first at the shirt in his hands and then at his kids. Now he gets what the nervousness was about. Jack had never doubted that Mac and Riley knew how much he loved them. He was, to start, pretty vocal about it and never shy with physical affection – he doled out hugs and ruffled hair like someone was about to pass a law saying he couldn’t (he also knew that Elwood Davis and James MacGyver weren’t big on kind physical contact with their kids and while Riley had had Diane to balance it out, Mac had his grandpa, who also wasn’t much of a hugger so Jack felt he had to make sure they both got all the hugs and other things they missed out on as kids). But there were things they never said aloud, which Jack understood and respected. Mac and Riley would talk to him when they needed and when they were good and ready.

So this shirt, his kids actually calling him dad. Is kind of. A big deal.

If it was physically possible for people to burst from happiness, Jack would have right then and there.

“This,” Jack began, “Is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Jack wrapped Mac and Riley back into a hug, smile never fading.

“Happy birthday, Jack.” Mac said, voice slightly muffled by Jack’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Jack.” Riley said, her chin digging into his back a bit from where she’d hooked her chin over his shoulder.

“I love you both, more than anything,” Jack told them, holding tighter.

This was definitely going down in his books as the greatest day ever.

“I am never going to take this shirt off!”

“Don’t make this weird!”

“Ugh, Jack!”

#macgyver #Angus MacGyver #Jack Dalton #Riley Davis

22 notes · View notes

beneathshadowsrp · 6 years ago

Photo

JAMES ARMSTRONG

FACECLAIM: BRETT DALTON AGE: 33 SPECIES: HUMAN OCCUPATION: Firefighter/Spokesperson for Hamlin Group ARRIVED: April 7, 1985 CURED SUPERNATURAL

“THE REVENANT”

tw: Gore, Violence, Death

James Armstrong was the prodigal heir to the Armstrong pack. Generations back, James’ great-great grandfather worked as Amos Chesterfield’s righthand man during the North American Supernatural Wars. After the war ended and the dust settled, his family made a name for themselves in North Carolina, establishing one of the largest post-war werewolf packs. Triggering his curse was never a choice: it was an expectation. James was conditioned by his father to become an alpha. His childhood wasn’t filled with laughter and warmth; it was filled with discipline and duty. When he turned eighteen, he joined the other untriggered wolves in his pack in committing their first kill to trigger their curse. James killed a junkie, someone no one would miss. He didn’t take any joy or pride in killing, but it prepared him as a leader to make difficult decisions for the sake of his group.

There was always an imminent fear for the survival of the pack and the alpha in position. Given the power of alpha was transferred via battle (often resulting in death) and hunters crawled all through the south, the Armstrong pack took solace in tradition and caution. They had to balance the concept of strength in numbers as well as being selective about who to trust. Many members of the pack had been bred in through generations of loyalty. But that didn’t ease James’ nerves and anxiety that someone, some day, would come for his head and take the one thing his family had. They weren’t wealthy, they weren’t powerful in the eyes of humans, but this name and this pack gave them a sense of belonging. A sense of duty and power. James would be damned if he’d be the generation to lose the pack to another.

James was still living at home when there had been a knock on his door. His father had been disappearing during the nights but James and his mother Dianna had thought nothing of it: simply Alpha duties, patrolling the territory, teaching the new pups. When James opened the door, he found a trunk resting on the porch. Upon opening, he found his father’s severed head and entrails inside the trunk. The alpha had been killed. James gathered the betas in the pack and hunted down the man who killed his father. It was a disgruntled vampire, whose wife had been having an affair with James’ father, Atticus. James and the Betas avenged his father by killing both vampires in question, and thus, transferring the power of alpha to James. He was the youngest Alpha the pack had seen, but he worked to earn the trust and certainty of the pack members.

Given the nature of his father’s death, James worked even harder and with more anxiety to maintain his position. He was more willing to bring in new wolves as a barrier around him. If people understood there was weakness in leadership, they might strike and eliminate the pack entirely. He had to earn back honor to the Armstrong name, now that it was revealed Atticus was a cheater and a species-traitor. The only person who could bring down James’ walls was Kelsie Woods, a lone wolf he had accepted into the pack. They were friends during her years in the pack, their bond growing stronger over time. James had never really allowed himself to be vulnerable with anyone enough to let them in, but there was something about Kelsie that let him take his guard down. The anxiety would melt away, little by little, until their friendship grew into something much stronger. After years of friendship, they fell in love. To their surprise, Kelsie became pregnant just a few months after they blossomed into a relationship. James knew someday he would have proposed to Kelsie regardless, but he was a traditionalist and proposed shortly after discovering she was with child.

During this time, his anxiety was still prevalent: he had a fiancée and was expecting a child whilst running a large werewolf pack. But when he was with Kelsie, he felt normal. Like his life was manageable, that his fears were conquerable. Maybe, just maybe, he could maintain a strong pack and live the honorable life his father had been incapable of. Everything changed the week of Halloween when chaos disrupted the town.

People were drowning. Vampires went into a feeding frenzy or sent to the hospital with violent illness. A stranger called James over, claiming Kelsie was in danger. James blindly followed and was ambushed. He was overtaken by a stranger, who he later would discover was an agent from the Hamlin Group. He was beaten nearly to death and injected with a prototype for the supernatural cure serum. His body was extracted and when he next awoke, he was in bindings in a distant facility. The serum administered weakened him and took away his connection to his pack, but the process was far from over. For months, booster dosages were administered. James was tested on, poked, and prodded. He wasn’t granted an opportunity to contact his family or even know what was happening in Shadow Falls. He never found out if Kelsie and his pack were alive and well, or if they had been taken as well. The immense physical pain was nothing compared to his anxiety about his family and their well-being.

When the serum was cleared as a success in the clinical trials, James and others were told they could return home. The Hamlin Group assigned case workers for each patient, along with NDA’s. If James agreed to be a spokesperson in the name of the serum, he would live a comfortable life. He only had to sacrifice the truth and the chance to get true retribution for his powers and safety being stripped from him. James hesitantly agreed, knowing that if there was anyone to return home to, he would want to at least be able to take care of them.

-BEHIND THE CURTAIN-

James was always an anxious man: stoic on the outside, high-strung on the inside. Now, his anxiety has manifested into severe PTSD. He suffered from it from before his kidnapping by the Hamlin Group, given his first kill and the death of his father. He despises medical facilities now and avoids them when he can, which is difficult given his agreement with the Hamlin Group. He remains fiercely loyal to his pack, though he is no longer a part of it. Since turning into a human, James feels like his identity was stripped of him. All he endured, all the anxiety and post-traumatic stress, was for nothing. He still lost his place in the pack and failed to protect them when they needed him most. He’s learning to adjust to life no longer being the one to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. Who is James without a crushing sense of responsibility? It may be harder than he thinks to relinquish control. But these fears come from a genuine urge to protect and care for the people around him. James has a big heart, albeit a fearful one. He is slow to trust and calculates everything by default. He would drop everything for the people he loves and is a defender of the underdogs.

#james armstrong #brett dalton fc #accepted #humans

2 notes · View notes

stunudo · 7 years ago

Text

BAU Prep School AU

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Competition

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country.

Feb. 11, 2017 8:49pm Winter Formal

The entire room had frozen around her, the music a distant throbbing as her eyes fell on the pair. Lizzie didn’t know what to do, she wanted to scream at him, call him out in front of everyone. She needed to run. The traitorous tears had started falling before time returned to her. Her corsage scratched against her cheek as she tried to brush away the downpour. She wrenched it from her wrist and dropped it as if it had grown arms and legs that had somehow offended her.

“Typical, Lizzie, of course no one is your friend for you,” She berated herself. “He just wanted to get into the fancy school dance, wanted to flirt with all the rich girls.” She didn’t know where she was going, but she was marching out of the gymnasium with a zeal that would have impressed the Speed Walking team, if the school had such a thing. She was muttering under her breath when Nurse Callahan stopped her.

“Whoa there, where’s the fire?” She asked jokingly, until she saw the state of the young woman. “Lizzie, is everything alright?”

“Yep, fine, Nurse Callahan,” Lizzie sniffed back the tears and postured her bare shoulders. Kate couldn’t remember the last time Lizzie had worn makeup, this was a special night for her and something had wrecked that.

“Do you need an escape plan?” She asked knowingly, tossing her arm over the girl’s shoulder, conspiratorially. “Because, I will have you know, that my office is a perfect place to hide from life or, bad dates?” She guessed.

“It wasn’t even supposed to be a date, the only way I got him to come was in a group.” Lizzie admitted. “Why are boys so shallow, Ka- Mrs. Callahan?”

“They’re not all that way,” Kate squeezed her arm, despite the height difference Lizzie felt protected. “I know it’s hard, but everyone is so confused on what they want at your age. Find a guy who likes your fire more than he likes your body.”

“But what if I want him to like my body too?” Lizzie mumbled.

“In order for that to work, there’s gotta be trust. Don’t waste your time on people who can’t see all of you.” She grabbed the lanyard from her neck and unlocked the door. She held the door open for the burdened teenager and flipped the light switch.

“Take your time, I’ll check on you when the dance is wrapping up.” Kate made sure Lizzie was situated before turning to leave. “I’m serious, just yesterday Coach Jareau needed a break. That couch does wonders.”

“Thanks, Nurse Callahan.” Lizzie fell sideways and stared at the wall of quotes and baby animals.

Kate returned to chaperoning, letting Penelope know that Lizzie was in her office. Women understood the devastation of dance drama best. After a good, solid cry, Lizzie sat herself back up. She headed into the private bathroom to straighten out her face.

February 24, 2017 4:02pm Charlottesville, VA

The caravan of SUVs and minivans pulled into the assigned parking lot on the college campus. Zachary had fallen asleep, but one of his earbuds had fallen out allowing the rest of the car to listen to James Earl Jones’ voice reading from the Bible. Ms. Blake was appreciating the cadence and gusto as she clicked open her seat belt.

“We’re here,” Alex rolled her shoulders and started opening doors before ending at the rear hatch where the coolers were stored.

The teen-aged participants grumbled in their seats as they woke from their short naps. Six students had progressed to reach the State competition, blowing everyone away was little Zachary Henkle. Kimi Dalton, Sacha Kane, Trevor Malcolm, Amelia Turner and Jake Hernandez rounded out the little troupe.

Ms. Garcia bubbled over to their coordinator, leaving Dr. Reid in the passenger seat of her massive car. “Are we settling in or just taking a knee?” The be-dangled counselor asked, clearly picking up some sports lingo from her boyfriend.

“Well, er,” Alex started, scratching the back of her neck. “I think we have allotted tables inside the Center. They will be our base of operations for the weekend.”

“I brought signs and name tags,” Penelope explained. “This way we can keep track of everyone.” She opened her canvas bag showing off her eye-numbing neon signs.

“If you can get anyone to wear those, sure, Penelope.” Alex placated. “Didn’t Reid ride with you?”

“He’s finishing up the rule book, only had like fifty pages to go,” Penelope waved towards her car.

“Well, at least someone read it,” Alex muttered, shoving her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “Un-subs! We will drop off our bags at the hotel later, for now let’s get situated outside the auditorium.”

The students tossed their luggage back in the trunks as they listened. The few parents that came along also respected the teacher’s authority and listened intently. The winter chill nipped at the poorly dressed students, hoodies and letter jackets hiding bunched fists.

“Dr. Reid and I are required to attend a supervisory orientation this evening. I trust you all, will listen to Ms. Garcia and the parents who came down early, while we are away. After that, you will have free time at the hotel until lights out at ten o’clock.”

“Ms. Blake?” Zachary’s hand caught her eye first. “If our parents aren’t here, do we have a shared room?”

“Yes, Zach,” Alex answered in her same booming voice. “Students may stay with their family members. Dr. Reid will supervise the boys’ room and Ms. Garcia will stay with the girls.”

“Good thing, Michel didn’t come.” Jake muttered to Kimi as the group started making their way across the parking lot.

“I’m pretty sure Ms. Garcia would have made sure they had their own room, Jake.”

“That’d be nice.” The boy admitted.

“Creating safe spaces isn’t easy, loves.” Ms. Garcia whispered to the pondering competitors. “Are you excited for tomorrow? I love a good debate, well, not really. I like winning debates. Does that count?”

The teens laughed, their guidance counselor loved to keep them entertained.

March 7, 2017 3:45pm

The pitch was still damp with the late winter rains, naked of chalk, gleaming in the fading light. JJ held her clipboard in front of her as she paced, waiting for the girls to change and meet her outside. A new season of soccer was underway, tryouts lasted two weeks, starting this afternoon. With her mind on the pool of players, JJ lined up the school’s balls in a daunting row. Thirty seven names were on the sign up sheet from outside her office, three were boys and four were mildly comedic and terribly immature imposters. She put out thirty three navy and white balls, to be safe.

She didn’t start the tryouts with a heated inspirational speech. She just explained her expectations for the day and kept the students moving. Twelve of the team from last spring had returned and another seven that had been cut had put themselves back out there for another round of scrutiny. The rest were new faces, freshman and sophomores that hadn’t tried out last year. JJ was impressed and slightly apprehensive about the large numbers. Cuts were hard, but necessary.

After an hour of warm ups, drills and sprints, JJ was ready to get down to business. She evenly divided the returning players with the new recruits, preparing them to scrimmage.

“Hannah, I want you to lead the Blue Squad and Camille I want you to lead the White Squad.” Coach JJ explained. “You have five minutes to set your line ups and I will whistle when we are set to start.”

The girls broke off into excited huddles as JJ sauntered over to her bag and camping chair. Seltzer water had become her best friend over the past month and she downed half a bottle while the players organized. Her features were pink in the late afternoon chill, she seemed to have lost what little meat there was on her face. She checked her watch, time to release the hounds.

“Un-subs!” Her voice sliced across the field. “To your positions. We will have a quick scrimmage. All players must be subbed in if they are not starting. Fifteen minute quarters, to ensure your captains are able to make those substitutions.”

She hiked to the center of the field, lined with orange cones as Anderson wouldn’t lay down the paint for a few more weeks. The whistle hovered over her lips, she eyed the forewords, nodding to the White Squad that they could call the coin in the air.

“Heads!” A chirping voice called out.

“Its tails, Blue Squad, choice?”

“Blue Squad will receive, Coach.” Little Cissy Howard parroted Hannah’s instructions.

“Very well, line up.” The whistle finally peeled into the gloaming.

March 8, 2017 7:22am

Coach Morgan was running behind, having left Penelope’s house later than normal. She was quite distracting in the morning and as she didn’t have a class full of students waiting on her first period; a terrible influence. He by-passed his usual stop in the main office and jogged down the corridor towards the gym and eventually, the weight room. Lifting in the morning was his favorite class, the students were too tired to be chatty and it got the bulk of the supervising out of the way. It didn’t hurt that he practically dictated his own schedule each year.

He slipped inside the locker room to change for class, always ready with a “go-bag”. As he rounded the corner he caught the hulking form of Andrew Heathridge bending over the bench. But he wasn’t tying up his trainers, his foot was bare and he had a syringe in his hand. Derek did a double take as the door finally closed, signalling his arrival.

The muscular boy stood up quickly tossing the needle into a corner of the lockers.

“Heathridge?” Coach reprimanded.

“Coach?” His voice startled, shame clouding his features for a moment before he reset his eyebrows.

“Do you want to tell me what I just saw?”

“No, sir.”

“You and I are going to have a talk after school, man.” The other weightlifters had started filing in behind the awestruck Coach. Andrew remained silent, but he rolled his eyes and went back to his sock and shoes. Derek Morgan was heartbroken.

March 10, 2017 9:37pm

“Alright, but remember that one time you tried to serve him store bought gelato and he nearly threw it back at you?” Alex was laughing so hard that the tears were collecting in her crow’s feet.

David Rossi nodded solemnly then shook his head, “I mean, I probably spent more on the stuff in the package than I do on ingredients, but Jason knew!”

Haley was laughing just as hard as Alex and Stan, Jordan’s husband. Aaron smirked as he sipped his bourbon. Chef Rossi had some of the old timers and the headmaster over for a dinner, letting the memories of Jason soothe over the rough way he was sent off.

“I remember him telling us, once, that his great uncle was an executive for some movie production company in Chicago?” Hotch asked Rossi for verification.

“Believe it or not, that wasn’t a lie. He has some old reels of Chaplin that he puts on sometimes.” Dave admitted. “God, what is he going to do with himself now?” Instinctively, his eyes wandered to Allie for an answer.

“Don’t look at me,” Alex teased. “I lost Jason and the house, remember.”

“You hated this house,” Dave shrugged.

Haley sensed some wine-fulled nostalgia changing the topic. “So what was Jason like, before, when he was married?”

“Night and day,” Jordan piped in. “He smiled, he was courteous. Still impulsive and perhaps even more reckless.”

“Before his wife left him, Jason was a decent guy, thriving on knowledge and sharing those discoveries.” Stan explained in a broad baritone.

“Has anyone heard from Stephen?” Hotch asked, cautiously.

“I get semi-regular updates. But nothing since,” Dave finished his glass. He stood making his way to the beverage cart he had in the sitting room. “Can I get anyone anything? I’m up.”

“Actually,” Aaron eyed his beautiful wife. “We should probably get going. The babysitter is waiting.”

Dave and Jordan shared a knowing smirk. “Uh-huh, sure.”

“Thank you so much for having us!” Haley stood enthusiastically hugging the old chef. “You really do have a nice house.”

“Mansion, but thank you, my dear.” Rossi teased. He shook Hotch’s hand at the door.

Jordan and Stan helped Alex clear the glasses before heading home. Alex sighed as she looked back at the circular drive illuminated like a beacon, a lonely castle in the night sky. She never really hated the house, it just held too many memories to live in it any longer. It was better to visit, rarely.

March 13, 2017 7:18am

Dr. Reid found Coach Morgan in the Main Office before school, his shoulders hunched in his FBI windbreaker. The inquisitive man didn’t know how he was going to explain his impulse to offer to help with an athlete, but something had put his feet in motion. Perhaps it was everything that had happened to students this school year, perhaps it was a distraction. Whatever it was, it wasn’t leaving Spencer Reid to sit by the wayside.

“Coach?” Spencer said, despite his croaking voice.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?” Morgan’s full attention was now on Spencer.

“Listen, I heard, about young Mr. Heathridge,” Spencer began as Derek nodded. “I was wondering, maybe, if I could talk to him?”

“Uh, sure, I guess. But Reid, what exactly do you know about the situation that I don’t?”

“Though I am sure you are versed in the lasting effects of such doses, I may be able to appeal to him on a different level.”

“And what level is that?” Derek straightened his posture, eyeing the science teacher now.

“As an addict.” Spencer let it sink in. “Now, obviously I wasn’t taking steroids or performance enhancers, if, we are being generous. I have a problem with Dilaudid, which is like heroin. I know what its like to take something to make life easier.”

“Wow, man. How long have you been clean?”

“Three years, seven months and eighteen days.” Spencer said instantly.

“So right before you started teaching?” Derek said after a few moments of heavy silence.

“Pretty much.” Spencer waited.

“Does anybody know about this?” Derek asked gently.

“Hotch does, President Strauss, uh, found out, and I am sure some of the students do, or have guessed.”

“Let me think about it?” Derek answered finally. “I want to help Andrew, but I don’t want to leave you vulnerable, if it backfires.”

“Derek,” Spencer said, was this the first time he had used the coach’s first name? “I need to help. I can’t let another student falter, not when I could have done something.”

“Okay, man.” Derek smirked in admiration, patting Spencer robustly on the back.

Very Special Thanks to Cassie @mentallydatingspencerreid,

Meg @imagicana , and Loki @ay-nako!!!

@ddreammcatcher @ultrarebelheart @lightbluelester @criminal-anatomy @captainreid @thebadyears @amarislestrange @shaelyn102 @badasprentiss @fl0werb0nes18 @inestava @sam-carter-in-training @wonderboygenius @fortheloveofpearlet @valentina-pendragon-blog @imarockstar45 @chocok22 @cynbx @fairymega @madamredwrites @doctorspencerreidrp @mindsunleashed @dontshootmespence @bookofreid @marvelfanlife @welp-there-it-is @ilikeitwhenyousleepforyouareso @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @original-criminal-fanfics @derpyprentiss @olicia-leeshy @lookwhatyoumademequeue @veroinnumera @sarahkay-19 @sammles27 @lesbian-asajj @teatimewithtiya @braziliangirlonasharkcity @alienlynz @janam03 @nobravery @clockworkballerina

@whymesswperfection @hagridsmumhasgotitgoingon @brooke0297 @xxmaddhatter39xx @gurliest @handpaintedgalaxy @kxlley

@krazykendraisnotinsane @bat-crazydoll8 @hownottobeaheartbreaker @captainreid @beereadsthings @prettyboysjello @megsi98 @criminal-prentiss @eternaldarknessiscool

@loadingdelete

45 notes · View notes

junker-town · 5 years ago

Text

Dorktown: The quest for the six-win playoff team

Icon Sportswire via Getty Images

The NFC East is so bad that we’re in danger of seeing a six-win team in the playoffs. Maybe even a five-win team.

When the NFC East heads into Week 11, its leader will have three wins. THREE WINS! Ever since the NFL split into its eight-division format in 2002, there have been 152 opportunities for a team to drag its sorry three-win-having ass to Week 11 and find itself atop its division. This is the first and only time it has ever happened. Congratulations to the 3-5-1 Philadelphia Eagles.

At this stage of the season, you almost always need at least six wins to lead a division, but the Eagles hold sole possession of first without even having to resort to tiebreakers:

Eagles (3-5-1)

Giants (3-7)

Washington (2-7)

Dallas (2-7)

Know this: throughout NFL history, no team has started 2-7 or 3-7 and made the postseason – unsurprising, since even if they’d somehow turned around and ran the table the rest of the way, 9-7 is often not good enough. This year, the NFC East is harboring three such teams, and all three are right in the thick of the playoff hunt.

If this were intentional, it would take a lot of orchestration. This is a two-stage rocket, and the first stage concerns the games these teams play against each other. Time and again, we’ve seen a not-great team vault into a record like 10-6 after proving just good enough to pick up cupcake wins within its weak division. That won’t work here. All four of these teams have to be more or less equally bad, such that they notch equal wins and losses against one another. So far, they’re doing a great job of this. These are their records within the division:

They’re sharing wins and losses as equally as the schedule allows; as of this date, the Giants and Cowboys are stuck with odd records only because they’ve played an odd number of division games. There’s every reason to hope that this equal winning and losing will continue: the Eagles have lost to Washington, who have lost to the Giants, who have lost to the Cowboys, who have lost to the Eagles, who have lost to the Giants, who have lost to the Cowboys, who have lost to Washington.

Now, the second stage of this rocket is a far more demanding one: these teams have to go out and lose to everyone else. And have they ever:

Look at all that orange. When NFC East teams are kicked out of the house by their exasperated parents and told to go play with the neighborhood children, they almost always lose. They’re 2-18-1 against the rest of the NFL this season. Let’s examine those three games that weren’t losses:

Eagles 25, 49ers 20. Philly squeaks by an injury-depleted Niners team that was missing their starting quarterback, their top two running backs, their starting center, star edge rushers Nick Bosa and Dee Ford, star cornerback Richard Sherman, and several other key guys. They did so after mounting a fourth-quarter comeback and barely surviving a last-minute drive led by their third-string quarterback.

Eagles 23, Bengals 23. Eagles quarterback Carson Wentz leads a last-minute drive to tie a Bengals team that is universally understood to be bad. Overtime goes like this: Bengals punt, Eagles punt, Bengals punt, Eagles punt, Bengals punt, Eagles punt, end of game. During their final two possessions, the Eagles make it well into Bengals territory before penalties pushed them back to their side of the field.

Cowboys 40, Falcons 39. Atlanta leads 39-24 with under six minutes left in the game. In one of the most spectacular comebacks I’ve ever seen in the NFL, Dak Prescott mounts three quick, heroic drives to pull out the squeaker. Of these three non-losses, this is the only particularly impressive one, although three things must be said about it. First, it hinged entirely on a recovered onside kick, which in today’s NFL counts as an incredible stroke of luck. Second, this happened against the Falcons. Not the Raheem Morris-coached Falcons who have really shown some fight over the last month, but the Dan Quinn Falcons who went 0-5. Third, Prescott was sadly lost to injury a few weeks later, robbing the NFC East of their only guy who’s proven himself capable of this kind of magic.

Two wins, 18 losses, one tie. Since ties are conventionally counted as 0.5 wins and 0.5 losses, this gives us a winning percentage of .119. Let’s flip that around: this season, teams who get to play an NFC East team this season have a winning percentage of .881. They’re juggernauts.

Consider how tough it is to find any split that will get you more favorable results than .881 over a span of at least 21 games. Let’s stack up a few splits that would seem favorable, with the help of Pro-Football-Reference’s Stathead tool.

Let’s have even more fun or even less fun, depending on who’s reading:

Brief aside: this is due to the sample size really thinning out toward the summit, but it is pretty funny that NFL teams’ winning percentages actually dip just slightly if they pass 42 points, and only recover once they hit 50. Similarly, that .881 winning percentage is based on a sample of just 21 games, so this chart wouldn’t quite hold up in an academic paper, but the fact remains: teams that score at least 30 points still have a less impressive winning percentage than literally any non-NFC East team that plays an NFC East team in 2020.

Now, it is true that the interdivisional schedules of these four teams have been pretty damn tough. Let’s use Football Outsiders’ DVOA rankings (through Week 9) to sort the quality of these teams from top to bottom, and count how many times our poor heroes have had to play them:

Rough stuff. Most of the time, they’ve run into good or very good teams. They’ve had to play the team with the NFL’s best record, the Steelers, three times (although it could just as easily be said that the Steelers have the NFL’s best record in part because they’ve gotten to play the NFC East three times).

Of course, the above chart omits the NFC East’s worst opponents: them. Come on out, fellas! There’s a bunch of folks here and they wanna laugh at you! Come on now!

This is why we can’t feel bad for any of these teams individually. Any tough opponents they’ve had to face elsewhere are more than balanced out by the privilege of being able to play their sorry selves.

You know, if I had the ability to assign teams to any division I wanted before the season started, with the objective of producing a division leader with as few wins as possible, I don’t know if I’d change anything. I think reality might have given us our best shot here, or at least something very, very close to it. If I just chose what I felt were the four very worst teams in the Jets, Bengals, Jags and Broncos, that could be trouble, because I suspect the Jets are miles worse than even the Bengals are. That would give the other three a punching bag that would allow them to pad their wins, which would blow the whole thing.

Instead, give me four teams who are both unmistakably bad, and almost the exact same degree of bad. Four teams who are dog shit in quadruplicate, and don’t appear to be much better or worse than each other in any material way.

So. Are we gonna see the NFL’s first-ever six-win playoff team? It’s absolutely in play, maybe even likely. I’m going to add a few more words in the hope of speaking them into existence:

We might see a five-win playoff team.

Let’s run through the remaining schedules of the Eagles, Giants, Cowboys and Football Team and see where we sit entering Week 11. Once again, we’ll rely on Football Outsiders’ DVOA.

Dallas Cowboys

The Cowboys would need to win five of these seven games to reach seven wins and ruin our day. While they did play the Steelers close over the weekend, and they have four very winnable games ahead, this is a team that’s lost four straight. I just can’t see Andy Dalton coming back from the bye and winning five of seven.

(I’m not factoring home-field advantage here, although it’s worth noting that home teams only hold a slight advantage this season. The omnipresent NFC East loser vibes are far stronger in my view.)

Washington Football Team

Same story as the Cowboys. Washington needs five wins to kill our dreams. I find the most useful way of framing this is: do we even trust them to get to three? I don’t.

New York Giants

The numbers are just slightly more friendly to the Giants: to make us unhappy, they need to win four of six, rather than five of seven. Their most likely path would be to beat the Cowboys and Bengals, then find some way to beat two 6-3 teams out of four.

I don’t see this as likely, but for purely unscientific reasons based on previous Giants team with entirely different rosters who stumbled backwards into sudden success, I think these guys are the most likely of the four to reach seven wins.

Especially because the Eagles’ upcoming schedule is so difficult.

Philadelphia Eagles

On paper, the Eagles have the easiest path to seven wins, as they only need to win four of their next seven. Four of these opponents are good-to-great (although the recent injury sustained by Drew Brees may mean beating the Saints is less unrealistic). The other three teams are subpar. All seven, though, hold a better DVOA than the Eagles.

The odds of Philadelphia reaching seven wins feel somewhere around 50-50 to me. I’ll take it! They still get to play two of their division rivals, and if they beat them both – which they’ll probably have to do in order to have a shot at 7-9 – that consequently deals a serious blow to all their seven-win aspirations, hopefully leaving the Eagles as the only team we’ll have left to worry about. From there, we hope that all five of the other teams, which are currently 6-3 or better, beat them.

Now, a five-win division champion? The road to that is tougher, but it’s absolutely possible. The math gets a little tricky, since in division games one team’s loss is another’s win, but you’re not at work here. You’re having fun. Simply scroll back up to those four charts and find:

four teams that can beat the Cowboys

four teams that can beat Washington

four teams that can beat the Giants

four teams that can beat the Eagles

If you can do that, you can imagine a team that lurches into the playoffs with a record of either 5-11 or 5-10-1. I need this. I need such a team to reach the playoffs while a very good team, like the Saints, Bucs, Cardinals, Rams or Seahawks, gets shut out of the postseason. Please, NFC East. Deliver us this future.

For further reading on the NFC East, check out this history lesson from Will, who points that these teams have been producing bad football since the 1930s.

0 notes

terresdebrumestories · 8 years ago

Text

Worth it after all

FANDOM: Glee SERIES: - RATING: Teen and Up WORDCOUNT: 1 019 words PAIRING(S): Klaine CHARACTER(S): Kurt Hummel, Burt Hummel, Blaine Anderson GENRE: Musings. TRIGGER WARNING(S): Quick mention of death/funerals at the start. SUMMARY: Kurt’s relationship with coffee. Or life, depending on how you look at it. DEDICATION(S): My past self, maybe? NOTE(S): Rewrite of Coffee History, one of my oldest fics on AO3, written as a celebration of my 300th work published on the Archive! Not all of them are complete and not all of them are very good, but I’m proud of myself for managing to put all of that out and for the progress I’ve made in the six years I’ve been posting there. Merry holidays to me and, hopefully, a nice blast from the past for the rest of you ;)

Kurt’s most vivid takeaway from his mother’s funeral is the phantom scratch of the cheap, ill-fitted suit his father had to borrow from a taller cousin. That, and the painful blueness of the sky. The rest fades faster than you’d think, swallowed by the black hole in his heart. In future years, if he tries heard, he’ll reconstruct a crowd of black-sleeved hands and a haze of murmurs; the bizarre impression that someone was about to yell ‘April’s fools!’ and end the nightmare.

He loses his mother’s smile to the decade following her death, the sound of her voice to John Farnham’s Angels played too many times over his tears. The smell of her vanishes, too, swallowed by the bitter aroma of a black coffee going cold on the kitchen table while his father stared into nothing.

***

A year after the funeral, almost to the day, Kurt walks into the kitchen and finds his father nursing a mug of cold coffee, eyes lost in days gone past. Kurt hoists himself on his father’s lap and scrunches his nose at the sugarless, cream-free scent of the coffee mug. The drink, when Kurt takes a sip, is too strong and burns at his tongue in more ways than one. His faces crumples in disgusted confusion again, eyes squeezed shut until he realizes wiping at his tongue with his pajama sleeve won’t help with the taste and he protests:

“It’s icky! Why don’t you add sugar?”

“Your mom used to say you can’t really appreciate life until you’ve tried the real taste of it.”

Kurt twists to steal a glance at his father, his eyes still lost in a time he barely remembers, and frowns.

“I don’t get it,” he admits.

His father sighs.

“Yeah. Neither do I, son.”

The coffee goes down the drain.

***

Two weeks into high school, Kurt comes home shivering with cold as red slushy seeps through his shirt. He rushes through his evening routine and locks himself in his room much earlier than usual so he can consume his shame alone. He gets two fitful, scattered hours of sleep that night, and opens his eyes on the dreadful knowledge he won’t make it through the day without some kind of boost.

There’s so much cream, sugar and biscuit crumbs in his very first coffee it’s almost breakfast.

***

The very concept of having cream with coffee as his favored drink is deeply at odds with Kurt’s notions of a healthy life, but he can’t quite make himself shake the habit. High school is a long string of slushies and assignments, cruel words tenuous friendships, harsh sneers and a burning desire to be as flamboyant as he can manage. Sleep, in these conditions, is hard to come by, but coffee still tastes terrible. In this domain, as in many others, Kurt does what he must in order to get through the day.

Covering up woks fine with the bullying. It works fine when Mercedes destroys his car. It works fine while his father lays motionless in a hospital bed. It fails miserably after his ill-fated attempt to redecorate his and Finn’s basement, but then there are limits even to self-deception.

***

There’s not enough whipped cream in the entire world to erase the taste of Karofsky’s lips from his own.

***

Dalton Academy should be a black coffee kind of place. There’s no one to hide from here, nothing to fear. Uniformity is made into safety. It surrounds him, embraces him, suffocates him, the abstract shape of him squeezed into the sharp crease of a conformism he always felt too big for.

Dalton Academy should be a black coffee kind of place, but Kurt drowns himself in cream and sugar, and tells himself it’s a habit more than a need.

***

The coffee Kurt orders after he’s elected prom queen is pretty much a heart attack in a cup. He would lecture his father in a thousand different ways if he even thought of taking a sniff from it but, just this one, Kurt allows himself the hypocrisy. Prom queen, in itself, isn’t even that bad a title. In a different place, with different people, he’d be proud of it. Here in McKinley, it was only ever meant to hurt him, and it did a fine job of it.

On the other side of the table, Blaine looks at him with worried eyes and asks what he can do to help. Kurt almost, almost says he’s fine. That’s what he would have done before, after all. Pretend he was fine and avoid talking about the incident until he managed to push it out of his mind entirely. It worked well enough so far, and it would work again, but...that would mean forgetting Blaine, too. Oh, Kurt can forget the dance if he wants to. He can put the crown, the stifling silence, the cruel looks right out of his mind. It’s just that if he did, he’d never remember the reason for Blaine’s smile and their hands entwined, heart filling with enough joy to leave no place for even the shadow of bigotry.

None of it was perfect. Not in the way Kurt used to dream of, at any rate. No cheering crowd, no comfortable anonymity. Somehow though, the terrible parts of the evening make Blaine’s presence all the brighter, as if the bitter irony of that night was only ever meant to underline how sweet Kurt’s boyfriend was. Kurt nearly snorts to himself at his own thoughts, but it doesn’t change the truth of them. There’s no way he wants to forget Blaine, even if he looks a little ridiculous with his brow furrowed in confusion.

“It’s nothing,” he promises after a brief but heartfelt kiss. “I think I just understood a thing my mom used to say.”

Kurt dumps seven dollars worth of cream in the trash and orders himself a black coffee. It’s still bitter but, after years of searching, he finally finds the rich aromas people kept making a fuss about, and what do you know.

It is worth it after all.

Banner credits:

Author credit font: Forced Square

Coffee stain texture: TwinklePowderySnow on deviantART

Title font: Beauty

#My posts #Glee #Kurt Hummel #Blaine Anderson #Burt Hummel #Glee Fic #Fanfiction #I could only be myself as queue

2 notes · View notes

ofravens-andwritingdesks · 8 years ago

Text

Nothing So Well As You: Chapter One

Aka the Anderperry and Cheeks Theater AU I promised on my main and an excuse to write about the theater my friends and I actually spent a lot of time in during the festival of new works when I lived in Roanoke last year. It will go up on my AO3 one of these days I promise

Summary: Fresh out of college, playwright Todd Anderson moves to Roanoke, Virginia to be in the place to be for new plays. He enters is play Nothing So Well As You, a play on Shakespeare’s Much Ado, into the Roanoke Festival of New Works, never dreaming it will be chosen. And when it is, his world turns upside down. Especially once he meets the man playing his romantic lead….

Chapter One

It was a strange turn of events that caused Todd Anderson to move from his college town in Vermont down to Roanoke, Virginia. But mostly, it was the fact that his college advisor had told him that Roanoke was the place to be for playwrights trying to establish themselves. New York would come in time, when he was older and had some plays under his belt. But since he was just starting out, he wanted to be in Roanoke.

So when he graduated, he picked up his bags and moved. He got himself a decently paying job at a local publishing company. He was mostly doing organizational work, but he didn’t mind. The simple work meant that he could spend more time with his mind wandering so he could tweak his play and not get behind.

He had been writing and editing this play for over a year. It had been his senior thesis. John Keating, who had been Todd’s advisor at school, had only one real complaint about the boy: his perfectionism meant he never believed his writing was finished, and it would be his downfall in the professional world. Todd had never actually believed that until he was staring down the deadline for entries to be considered for the Roanoke Festival of New Works with a play he wasn’t one hundred percent satisfied with. In the end, he submitted it while also thinking of things he could have fixed. Promised he would fix if he got accepted. He didn’t think he would. Here he was, a nobody fresh out of college, being considered among writers who had been doing this for years if not their whole lives. No, he didn’t stand a chance.

So when he received an email from a Charlie Dalton, who informed him that he would be directing his play in the Festival of New Works and wanted to know how soon he could hold auditions, he nearly started crying in the middle of the office he was working in. When he could finally compose himself to tell the concerned middle aged women working with him why he looked so floored, they all cheered for him. They had already been planning on attending, but now they had all the more reason to.

So soon, Todd Anderson was sitting in a room at the Mill Mountain Theater, sitting behind a desk with the man who would be directing his play, waiting for people to file in for auditions.

Charlie had clearly been doing this for a while. He was at least familiar with the way things worked at this theater, as proven by his relaxed and almost arrogant attitude about the entire ordeal as he explained it to Todd. “Alright, so this shouldn’ take too long. I’ve already picked out all the behind the scenes guys, so you won’ have to worry about that. We always recruit from the local women’s college. They’ve got a great theater program, they’ll be a good asset to your play. Some’ll probably audition too, but I don’ see ‘em gettin’ more than ensemble.” He had a thick drawl, one that was unusual for the locals he had heard from around here. They weren’t so below the mason-dixon as to warrant the accent coming from his mouth.

“Where are you from?” Todd asked absentmindedly.

Charlie furrowed his eyebrows. “Georgia. Went to Virginia Tech, but spent most of my time here, despite the bitch of a drive. Can I start callin’ people in now?”

Todd felt so completely out of his element. He knew how theater worked, in theory. He had taken a couple of theater classes in order to better understand how to write plays. But he had never actually been on this side of it all. He had never imagined that he would actually get here. But Charlie clearly knew what he was doing and it made Todd feel like a complete idiot. He just nodded and Charlie started calling people in for their auditions.

It went smoothly, for the most part. Todd didn’t know how he would ever cast this play on his own. He could see so many of the people auditioning playing the parts he had written. But he supposed that was what Charlie was there for. He had an eye for these things. And Todd could tell when a person auditioning wasn’t going to get the part just by the way Charlie held himself. His body would stiffen ever so slightly if he didn’t like the acting choices a person was making. He managed to hold his tongue about it, but Todd felt bad that the person in front of him believed they had a chance.

Just after a girl with a curly bob left her audition, a tall boy walked in. Todd could have fallen out of his seat. The way he smiled at the two of them put all of the stage lights to shame. His brown hair was neatly put into place. He was wearing a deep blue sweater and khaki pants, but Todd could forgive the choice of pants for the sheer warmth the boy brought into the room. And he knew next to nothing about casting, but he couldn’t shake that the boy was exactly how he had pictured one of his characters while writing them

Charlie rolled his eyes, “Get out of here, Neil, you already know you’ve got the lead.”

Todd could hardly hide the excitement in him. So this was going to be his Quincy, the romantic lead for his play. Everything was falling into place.

The boy, Neil, shook his head. “I’m auditioning like everyone else, Charlie. If you don’t stop giving me leads without auditions, people are gonna start thinking I’m sleeping with you for parts.”

“So that’s not what you’re sleeping with me for?” Charlie teased, leaning forward.

Todd couldn’t explain why his heart sunk.

But Neil laughed. “You wish you were getting me.” He looked to Todd apologetically. “I’m sorry for him. He thinks he’s clever and witty, but really he’s just crass and annoying. You must be Mr. Anderson.”

Todd blushed. The boy standing in front of him couldn’t have been more than a year younger than him, if that. “T-There’s no need for the formality. Please, call me Todd.”

Neil grinned. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Todd. Your play is a work of genius. I love how it subverts the typical Shakespearean tropes and–”

“Stop flirtin’ with the playwright and get on with your audition if you insist on havin’ one. This is why people are gon’ think you’re sleepin’ with directors and playwrights for parts,” Charlie interrupted. But the director looked more amused than anything.

Neil flushed a light pink, which was nothing in comparison to the crimson that was coloring Todd’s cheeks. The boy nodded and opened up his script. He started to read Quincy’s main soliloquy, and when he did, Todd could see why Charlie had picked him out quickly to play the lead. There was a melody in the way that he performed. It was obvious that he understood the character perfectly, and loved him. In short, he was perfect. And the playwright was completely blown away. He could have sat there for the rest of the day and listened to him recite lines. But after the soliloquy was over, Charlie sent him out of the room and reminded him that rehearsals started next week.

There were only three people after Neil who auditioned, and none of them were particularly remarkable. They weren’t bad, just nothing to write home about. When the last person left, Charlie turned to Todd.

“I’m gon’ be honest, I already have your cast list figured out. So unless you wanna make a case for any particular actor…”

Todd shook his head. “Uh, no, I trust your judgement. Quincy is the most important anyway, and you’ve got him…perfect.”

Charlie smiled. “When I read the play, I thought of Neil. I told Neil he had the part the day I was assigned your director.”

“How do you know each other?” Todd wanted to know everything there was to know about this magnificent man, every minutiae and detail of him.

Charlie leaned back in his chair. “Met at VT. He was pre-med, funnily enough. But halfway through his sophomore year, he told his dad to shove it where the sun don’ shine, and look where we are now. I like to think he got that from me.”

Todd nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He flushed as the next question left his lips. “And you two arent…?”

Charlie just laughed. “Me and Neil? No way, he was just pullin’ my leg. Not my type, Neil. He’s too much of that sappy poet, hopeless romantic type. I ain’t lookin’ for that right now. Neil’s the kinda guy you bring home to Mom and Pop, settle down with. I’m the kinda guy they warn you ‘bout.” He offered Todd a wink, which made the playwright blush involuntarily. He chuckled like it was part of a game. “I’ll send out the cast and crew list tomorrow then. Rehearsals start next tuesday.” He offered his hand to shake. “Nice to meetcha, and I’m lookin’ forward to workin’ with you.”

Todd nodded and shook his hand before getting up and leaving the theater they were in. Upon exiting, he was immediately met by a curly-haired ginger with horn-rimmed glasses. “Oh! You must be Todd Anderson. Sorry to accost you like this. I’m Steven Meeks, I’ll be the stage manager for the play.” He spoke with an accent that told Todd that he was not from down south, but he couldn’t place just where.

Todd smiled. It was still so surreal to hear people talking about being on the crew for the play that he wrote. It was hard to believe that the play wasn’t just his anymore, that it belonged to other people too, that they could love it almost as much as he did.

“Nice to meet you, Steven. Have you met the director yet?”

The ginger rolled his eyes. “Please, just Meeks. And unfortunately. Charlie Dalton is the most most miserable person I’ll ever have the misfortune of working under. He thinks that Georgia accent and southern charm can get him whatever he wants. But I’m from Brooklyn and I’m not phased.”

“Brooklyn?” Todd asked, an eyebrow raised. “How’d you end up here, then? Guess I shouldn’t talk, being from Vermont.”

Meeks ran a hand through his curls, “I ask myself that question every goddamn day. Thought getting so far away from home would be nice. And the theater here is great, but I kind of can’t wait until I can go back up there. But anyway, just wanted to introduce myself. I’m sure you’ve got places to be. Nice to meet you, Todd.”

Todd smiled, “Likewise, Meeks.”

Todd made his way back to his tiny apartment just outside of Roanoke and flopped down on his couch. On the coffee table in front of him was the original, unedited copy of his play. It was hard to believe that his senior thesis had turned into all of this. It was hard to believe that in about two months time, people would be paying to see something he spent countless sleepless nights working on. And as he picked that original script up, he couldn’t help but feel like he had done something great.

#anderperry #dps #nsway

12 notes · View notes