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#and my lecturer called me 'Rachel' at one point
becca-e-barnes · 1 year
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Hi Becca! I would literally die for you blog. It’s my go to any time I need some good self care😉. You’re incredibly talented!
But I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my head. It boils down to just Bucky and cock warming. Like the reader is on him begging for more but he is just having way to much fun playing with their clit to start moving. Making them cum on him with out thrusting once.
Just an idea I thought you might like. I love you work, have a great day!!
I'm really glad you've been enjoying my stuff so much!! That's so sweet!💗 and I keep getting told I can get ✨filthier✨ so I'd love to mess with this is little bit
Because I love the thought of Bucky making you start off with a dildo that's just a little bit smaller in size than he is. Maybe one of those dildos with a suction cup on the bottom so it's stuck on a wooden chair.
"Good girl, take it all." He encourages, kneeling between your legs, watching your cunt greedily swallow the toy. It's a sight he doesn't often get to see and he's really not sure why he doesn't make a point of watching it more often.
You whine quietly, feeling the toy bottom out. Your ass makes contact with the cool, varnished wood beneath you and you can't help but roll your hips a little, enjoying the feeling of the tip rubbing against your velvety walls.
"If I wanted you to fuck yourself on that, I'd tell you to. Did I tell you to?" Bucky's voice has a sharp edge that almost knocks you out of your daze.
"N-no... But-" You begin, trying to justify your movement but he cuts you off.
"No. So don't. I want you to keep your cunt stuffed and take what I give you." He watches up at you as he presses your knees apart, keeping his eyes on your face until he can't bare it anymore.
You gasp quietly at the feeling of his hot breath on your exposed, slick sex and there's nothing you can do but whimper at the feeling of his tongue gently grazing your clit.
Fuck, it's good. It's not long before he's licking you like he's starving, lapping and sucking gently on your clit before forcing your legs wider apart to lick your arousal from the base of the toy.
"Bucky, please. Please let me move." You didn't mean to sound so pathetic but with each lick, you get closer and closer to an orgasm you won't be able to stop. An orgasm you've been warned you're not allowed to have.
You're almost surprised he takes pity on you, giving you permission to get off the toy. He removes it from the chair and sits down in it's place, offering his cock as a replacement.
You sit back down as you had earlier with your back to his chest but you can't help but feel amazed at how much better his dick feels. He's slightly bigger and while that's nice, nothing beats the way he throbs inside you and the hot, breathy groans against your ear at the feeling of your body taking all of him.
"Such a good girl." He smirks against your neck, littering your skin with kisses between his soft praises. You feel one of his hands on your chin, gently directing you to look to your right, over in the direction of the full length mirror.
The reflection you're looking at makes your walls flutter involuntarily because fuck, you really are stuffed full of his cock and he's making sure you're not able to fully enjoy it yet.
With one hand still holding your head in place, making sure you keep watching, Bucky's free hand trails down between your legs, flicking and rubbing your clit again.
"Oh f-fuck." You whine, watching Bucky's smirk widen. You can't sit still. You just can't. You want to grind your hips and take what you need and in that moment, his pleasure and all the instructions he's given you come second. You need to get off, consequences be damned.
"Don't even fucking think about it." He warns, delivering one harsh slap to your clit. It's not overly hard but it's enough to shock you. "You know you're not allowed to cum. I want to feel this pretty pussy dripping first. Don't worry though. Once you're wet and messy enough, I'll fuck you stupid on the carpet, right in front of the mirror. Want you to watch yourself cum so hard you forget your own name."
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ladylooch · 1 month
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I would love to see some Emma and Lexie time
Like maybe them shopping, out to lunch, or just ranting about Timo and Nico
It’s unseasonably warm in November in New Jersey. Emma and Lexi, both pregnant, are taking advantage of the weather, and their husbands being home, by taking a walk around the neighborhood without their older children.
“I feel like fire crotch is happening so much earlier this time around.” Emma mumbles. “Like with Lio it was later, not until I was back in Switzerland.”
“I haven’t had it yet, but I fear the day it returns.” Lexi shudders. “But weird that it is happening earlier? You’re carrying her so high.”
‘You’re telling me. I cannot eat anything without getting acid reflux so bad it feels like I’m choking.” Emma huffs. “And also, I really, really miss sushi. Like Timo said they had it Vegas and I wanted to punch him in the face.” 
“Nico said the same thing! I’d rather he just didn’t tell me.” Lexi whines back to her. 
“There is part of me wants to just say fuck it. But I really don’t want the lecture from Doctor Bethany.” Both women have the same doctor this time around. Doctor Bethany delivered Lucie and was highly recommended to Emma for this pregnancy now that she will certainly be delivering in the U.S. Emma likes her, but she wishes the bitch would care less about her fast food cravings. Sometimes you just need some fries from McDonald’s.
“I can see the eyebrow raise right now.” Lexi jokes and Emma laugh heartily. “I’m so excited we are having girls together.”
“Me too! I have been going crazy on buying clothes. I can’t help it! It’s all so stinking cute. Way cuter than boy clothes.” Emma rubs her hand over her upper belly where the baby kicks. “Have you started thinking of names?”
“Yes! We still have some we considered with Luc, so it’s a shorter list than last time.”
“I feel like…” Emma trails off. “We may need to discuss names at some point.”
“What if its a Friends situation!? And you love mine!? You’re delivering first.”
“I promise I won’t take it!” Emma vows. 
“That’s what Rachel said.” Lexi laughs heartily as they head to the right to circle back home.
“I am a better friend than her.” Emma bumps Lexi’s shoulder gently. “Plus we are thinking a Swiss name to match Lee.”
“Okay, well…” Lexi sighs, biting her lip. “We are pretty confident we are going to go with Mackenzie.”
“Oh! I love it!!” Emma squeals, gripping Lexi’s forearm. “Mackenzie Hischier!” 
“Our little Mack.” Lexi muses, rubbing her hand over her bump. She leaves her hand under her belly to cup her close. “What about you?”
“Livia has been at the top of our list for the entire time.” Emma murmurs. “We have been calling her Livy since we found out she is a girl. Timo came up with it… again. He’s so good at coming up with names for our children. I have to be quick to name the next one.” 
“Maybe it is a former hook up?” Lexi jokes, knowing there is no way he would do that.
“Oh I would kill him.” Emma mumbles. “Because I am really in love with the name now! I couldn’t part with it.” 
“Livia and Mackenzie.” Lexi says after a few moments of silence. “We are already so in love with you two.” Emma wraps an arm around Lexi and they hug, bumps pressing together. “Wanna go get ice cream?”
“Yeah, let’s take my car. I’ve got my keys.” Emma giggles.
They hustle, as much as pregnant women can hustle, into Emma’s car, then head off on their pregnancy craving adventure.
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prossims · 1 year
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I posted 187 times in 2022
That's 78 more posts than 2021!
36 posts created (19%)
151 posts reblogged (81%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@prossims
@happy-lemon
@bobapplesimblr
@luxelattesims
@ashubii
I tagged 185 of my posts in 2022
Only 1% of my posts had no tags
#prosfaves - 54 posts
#dl - 44 posts
#year 01 recap - 39 posts
#simblr - 26 posts
#ts4 - 25 posts
#ts4 rotation gameplay - 21 posts
#nonsims - 20 posts
#new simblr - 16 posts
#the landgraabs - 15 posts
#signal boost - 15 posts
Longest Tag: 77 characters
#but i do understand how it can be stressful for her to have this conversation
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
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The Landgraabs
On the morning of the 5th, Charlotte woke up even earlier with a bursting bladder and a growling stomach. Unable to pin-point on what caused her feeling so poorly, she blamed it on her flu which she knew how to take care of.
Within a couple hours, Charlotte was clean, hydrated, medicated and energized. She even made herself some eggs to give her the energy for conquering the day. This was gonna be one of the most memorable days of her career, she was sure of it.
Beginning | Next
18 notes - Posted November 25, 2022
#4
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The Landgraabs
Meanwhile, at home, Charlotte is preparing hard for her audition. She knows how difficult it’s gonna be considering the sitcom’s reputation and even though her Landgraab identity gets her past most auditions, this one will not happen in a similar way. Ever since Johnny Zest and Vasyl Abrams, the most influential couple in the sitcom industry, took over the writing and direction for the show, its quality has not been compromised in the slightest. And it sure will not do so to impress a Landgraab.
To be completely honest, comedy is not Charlotte’s thing. It does not come to her naturally. So she made sure to read the book ‘Getting the Jokes’ sent to her from the agency. And then she decided to watch a few episodes of the show to internalize the overall vibe. Not that she hasn’t watched them before, but you know…
Past noon, when Charlotte still didn’t see Malcolm coming over for lunch, she decided to sign up for a comedy lecture taking place in Oasis Springs auditorium. Of course, she got herself a seat in the premium panel. Sitting with the masses is not safe for her anymore now that everybody in town knows who she is.
Beginning | Next
21 notes - Posted November 22, 2022
#3
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Rachel Woods as a potential friend for @futurelabs teens!
Rachel is the friendli-est teen in town who loves to chat.. very very chatty.. and make new friends. She is fun to be around and you will never have a dull moment with her. Unfortunately, love has not come easy for her. She is yet to find anyone who is worth her affection to such levels. Which sucks, because she soooo wants to marry her high school sweetheart!
Some info about her below the cut.
Goes to the same school as Archie and Toby..duh!
Lives in Oasis Springs with her parents and younger sister who is 10.
Comes from a middle-class family, both her parents are in the mid-levels of their careers.
Not good at the exam thing ugh!
Her favourite classes are foreign language and social studies.
She likes writing, but does not make a lot of time for it usually because she is too busy hanging out with friends at ThrifTea.
Her favourite colour is pink and music genre is Pop & S-Pop.
Her friends keep telling her that she is really cute and she does not disagree.
Her archetypes are Jester and Innocent.
Her aspiration is Friend of the World.
MBTI personality type is ESFP.
Surprisingly talented in logic and analysis.
Deep in her heart, she really wants to be popular!!
There you go, Alessia..lot's of descriptors and such. I hope you like her. You may change her in any way you want, she is all yours now!!
Private Download, but anyone feel free to send me a WCIF if you like something I used on her.
22 notes - Posted November 13, 2022
#2
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Braylon Forrest Scott for @akitasimblr Harper Bachelor Challenge
Hi! I am Braylon Forrest Scott. My family and friends call me Bray. I..umm.. I found out about this bc while scrolling through simblr last night and decided to submit an entry form mostly because I liked Xavier and his whole vibe. Also, I have been looking for a change in my life so the timing was perfect.
Okay.. haha! I am really not good at this camera thing... umm, alright. A little bit about me.. I have never dated anyone so I really don't know what I expect. But my ideal partner should be ready to deal with a nerd homebody for sure. Can't wait to see Xavier in person! Byee..
Facts about Bray below the cut
Freshly graduated from Foxbury with an honours in Physics
Gender fluid and attracted to men/masculinity
A kind sim with a sporty vibe
Played in the Foxbury Soccer team for scholarship
A genius sim who likes to be left alone most of the time
Has a heart of gold and empathy for fellow sims
Quite talented in fitness and logic
Weak in mischief and comedy, not a funny person
Live and breath for acquiring knowledge
Personality type is INTP - the thinker
Archetypes are innocent and sage
Has the Nerd Brain aspiration with quick learner trait
Their closest friend is their elder brother Richard
Has a slightly negative relationship with their twin Nicholas
Mamma's little baby
Loves tutoring their younger sister which is often not well-received
I have very few posts of them left on my blog after deleting old ones. But here you can find more about them. I truly love them a lot, but could not find somebody who'd be perfect for them. I hope you enjoy having Bray in your game.
Private download
24 notes - Posted December 3, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
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Forrest Scott Household
Meanwhile, in the Forrest Scott house, Allyssa was winding down after a long day of work and taking care of the home when she heard Braylon entering the living room. “Mom, are you busy?”
She could hear their voice slightly shaking, indicating nervousness. So she looked up from the tv with a warm smile. “No dear, come in!”
“I..need to talk to you about something,” Bray said sitting next to her in the sofa.
Allyssa turned the tv off and looked at Bray, giving them her undivided attention. “What is it, baby?”
See the full post
33 notes - Posted December 2, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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What I have found in response to Ursula Le Guin’s book The Word for World is Forest is that it is utterly impossible to write a succinct response without relating my thoughts and writing to all the various questions and prompts included in our brief. While I tried to choose one direction relating to my own print work and thought process around various topics in the book, it is all so interrelated. I found that really challenging to narrow down. It’s like the excitement of unraveling a spider web Venn diagram that is ecology, nature, society, anthropology, literary work, war, words, spirituality, toxic masculinity, colonialism, human development, sexuality, a hundred other things all leading to our place here within this planet, this reality, this existence. I understand that all sounds very dramatic and probably too wordy. I agree. However, this is the simplified venn diagram that is my response to this book. Let me try to explain a little further.
Carol P. Hovanec writes in her article Visions of Nature in The Word for World is Forest: A Mirror of American Consciousness, ‘Science fiction, which Ursula Le Guin calls “the mythology of the modern world,” does not attempt to define nature as much as warn of ecological catastrophe…’ (Hovanec, 1989, p. 84)
This small, introductory sentence immediately reminded me of our class lecture introducing Rachel Carson’s book Silent Spring. I visualized Carson’s words, carefully and starkly written to make an impact on each agrarian reader, farmer, fisher, worker, “eater” alike, regarding the damage of the methods using DDT and pesticides. Carson could See what direction was beginning to unfold. (We might even say was a translator of our time.) With the birds silencing, the fish developing strange diseases, mutations until death, Carson wrote her own warning. Ursula Le Guin also used her words to warn of our ecological catastrophe. As Le Guin’s character, Davidson tramples along the edges of the forest, burning it up, felled acre by felled acre, it relates not only to our methods of deforestation today, but resource use and even the pesticide choices to “protect” our crops from harvest setbacks. ( hello! small wave to another theme of this book: capitalism.) Davidson is afraid to enter the woods. Farmers (back to the roots: Money) are afraid to explore a natural method of agriculture. Davidson is afraid of the dark, the silent and thick wild energy deep inside and he is disoriented and vulnerable which makes him the epitome of toxic masculinity and it’s need to dominate in order to feel in charge once more.
This is where I start to feel like I am explaining Inception, trying to clearly state two pieces:
Firstly: Silent Spring. Rachel Carson (due to toxic masculinity at its root) has to be very tactful in the way that she promotes and stages her book. She chooses non threatening marketing, illustrators, and overall visuals for it. Farmers, unthreatened, will read it and be shocked. It destroys their methods, their way of doing things, their way of ruling over nature. Simply put, it erupts the status quo. She is then categorized as a threat or “other.” And further discredited, as we discussed in class, by being called “a fanatic defender of the Cult of the Balance of Nature.”
Secondly: the Word for World is Forest. Ursula Le Guin uses Davidson in this same toxic dominant energy that destroys out of need for control. His character is the leading force of destruction and harm to New Tahiti. Just as our chosen ignorance towards our way of living and using planet earth will lead to complete depletion and lifeless soil. Hovenac also reiterates Le Guin’s point in her article review regarding the Word for World is Forest and a Mirror of American Consciousness stating, ‘The puritans quickly moved to subdue this hostile environment, which was one of their strongest symbols of evil and displacement; for they felt “by the command of God man had been made master of the whole visible creation.”’ (Hovenac, 1989, p. 86)
So this introduces the questions: Who really owns this planet? And why the human/nature divide?
I chose these questions to consider while working on my process prints with Paul. Growing up so engulfed in nature, it has always been the more powerful force to me than man. By far. Even in the Word for World is Forest, man uses fire to dominate the land and the people closest to it’s gentle, nurturing, life-giving existence. He dominates to feel safety and superiority and control, until he steps just a little too far and ultimately is killed by it. As a human race, carving into our environment just like Turner’s painting: Rain, Steam and Speed, the Great Western Railway we think of ourselves separate from nature. We only use it. We aren’t It. I continued looking for hints of this divide theme in artist’s work as I researched etching techniques and etching artists. The two most inspiring artists I stole inspiration from were Berni Wrightson’s dark and stunning illustrated portfolio of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Franklin Booth. In my own work I wanted to show just how wild and ignorant that thought of this stark divide truly is. I drew nature as I pictured the trees in Le Guin’s book; giant and beautifully foreboding but built up of a hundred softer, fleshy, living, green, natural things. Across a literal etching metal plate divide, I wove humans, some resting, listening, held gently in the roots and soil. Others scrabbling and clawing up to maintain power while holding a lit torch of control. I drew them all naked: some safe and unashamed, others simply made vulnerable and straining. And the torch in one’s hand has the power to burn everything there. So who really owns this planet?
Is there as big a divide as we pretend? Or is it just a myth of our consciousness?
References
Le Guin, U. K. (1972). The word for world is forest. [New York], Berkley Pub. Corp. : distributed by Putnam.
Hovanec, C.P. (1989) ‘Visions of Nature in The Word for World is Forest: A Mirror of the American Consciousness’, Extrapolation, 30(1), pp. 84–92. Available at: https://doi.org/10.3828/extr.1989.30.1.84
Carson, R.L., (2002) Silent spring, London: Penguin.
Turner, J. M. W. (1844) Rain, Steam, and Speed - the Great Western Railway [oil on canvas] National Gallery, London. Available at: https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/joseph-mallord-william-turner-rain-steam-and-speed-the-great-western-railway
Wrightson, B. (1983) Frankenstein. Available at: https://www.berniewrightson.com/galleries/frankenstein/
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teacup-of-creativity · 8 months
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Reconnecting to my Inspiration
Lately something I’ve been trying to do as I delve deeper into these revisions for my novel is reconnect with the things that inspired me at first. 
Listen, I started this novel seven years ago, back in 2016, so as I’m sure you can imagine there’s a lot about my original vision that I’ve forgotten over the years. Between the simple passage of time, and the continuous voice in my head telling my that my story wasn’t “professional” enough, or “real literature”, the course of the book shifted considerably. I tried to change it so much to fit these lofty ideas of what a book by me should be, that I forgot what it was that I WANTED to write.  
And what I want to write is GOOD, but SILLY! Silly at least to the great thinkers of this world who sit in their ivory towers and declare that “The red curtains in that short story must have symbolized something!” (I’m sure you know the kind.) But when I remembered FINALLY or maybe, more like realized for the first time, that I wasn’t writing for them, I was writing for myself and the people who enjoy what I do, a massive weight was lifted from my shoulders and a freedom and excitement to rediscover my story began to set in. But after so long, I was a little lost. I couldn’t remember all the things which had given me my catalyzing thoughts back in high school, or worse, I couldn’t remember the thoughts!
So!
I recently started going back through all the media I could recall influenced or inspired Project Seer (that’s what we’re calling it for now), and dipping my toes back into the world and mind of 16 year old Rachel. 
A brief list of said materials I have recently rewatched (or something similar) for this very purpose is as follows:
Yona of the Dawn
The Last Kingdom,
Any lecture on feudalism I can get my hands on,
Miraculous Ladybug (just the new movie for now, we’ll see if I still have the stomach for the show later I suppose),
I JUST started rewatching Kuro Mukuro, which! Let me tell you-- is not at all something I thought I would need to help me write my medieval fantasy novel. It’s a modern mecha anime! With... Aliens?! It’s a little unclear! But the point is, it wasn’t until I actually clicked on that first episode and let it play for a minute that I remembered:
This is the show with a samurai from the sengokujidai as a main character! Feudalism is baked into the essence of the show, as this samurai character lives by his codes and morals, protecting the girl he perceives to be his princess. Another thing! A blue haired girl a little clueless to the absolute danger she has found herself mixed up in, having to constantly be guarded by a boy honoring an oath! Sound familiar?? (Probably not because I haven’t really talked about that aspect of my book yet, but I promise you, it’s in there!) How about inexplicable attraction and helping someone even if you don’t have a good reason why? A strong pining slow burn? Okay, I think you get the picture. 
Basically, all that to say-- There is so much to be gained by remembering where your ideas have come from, and by remembering to engage with the things that breed creativity in your soul. For me, the things that do that don’t always come from the most likely of places, clearly, as detailed above. But I’m learning all over not to judge a book by its cover. You never know where inspiration will strike, or what one random line from a book will spark a thought in your head that will fix an entire plot hole! (Thanks, Destroyer by Meg Smitherman!) And finding those things that will continuously inspire you, that lead you in the directions or vibes you want to go is so so SO important. 
Don’t lose sight of who you are. Don’t lose sight of what you love. Otherwise you may end up doing a deep dive and reliving your teenage years, (watching a show with a MASSIVE cliff hanger ending but no season three!) like me. 
But in all seriousness, this last almost year of my publishing journey has been so inundated with self reflection and discovery, it has been painful. But this is part of it that is actually helping me feel alive again, like myself again. And I’m really, really, REALLY, enjoying it.  
It’s making writing fun again.
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numbersbythebook · 1 year
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Rachel & Ephraim continued
written by Will Schumacher
This is a continuation of my last Rachel post.  She is tied to Jesus and redemption, and to this church age called a time of “Great Tribulation”.I said on my last post that it is about Ephraim and this post tries to explain that.
I try to listen to Rabbi David Fohrman and his teaching as much as I can. The rabbis have such a deep understanding of the Old Testament and thus there is much to learn from them.  The rabbis see so many things in the original Hebrew that Christians know nothing about.  It helps me to understand the Bible on a much deeper level.
I was listening to a lecture on Joseph recently and he talked about Ephraim.  Ephraim means “double fruitful” and comes from the root meaning “fruitful” which is Strong’s H6509.  He points out that God commands Jacob to be fruitful and multiply: Genesis 35:11 And God said unto him, I am God Almighty: be fruitful and multiply; a nation and a company of nations shall be of thee, and kings shall come out of thy loins;
What is odd, he says, is that Jacob already has 11 sons at this time. It is as if God says he will have many more sons. However he only has one more son, Benjamin and his wife whom he loves dies giving birth just 5 verses later.  Notice that nations (plural) will come out of Jacob:
Genesis 35:16-19 And they journeyed from Bethel; and there was but a little way to come to Ephrath: and Rachel travailed, and she had hard labour. And it came to pass, when she was in hard labour, that the midwife said unto her, Fear not; thou shalt have this son also. And it came to pass, as her soul was in departing, (for she died) that she called his name Benoni: but his father called him Benjamin. And Rachel died, and was buried in the way to Ephrath, which is Bethlehem.
He finds this story odd also.  He asks why is it so important to mention they were almost to Ephrath and to say it twice. God does not add trivial details unless they are important. What he notes is that Ephrath is the same root as fruitful, the same root as Ephraim. Rabbi David Fohrman then comes to Joseph’s son Ephraim. He was the second born. Jacob however takes both of Joseph’s children, Manasseh and Ephraim as his own and he puts Ephraim as the firstborn. Rabbi Fohrman then says that Jacob taking Ephraim meaning “fruitful” is the answer to God’s blessing in Genesis 35:11. So Jacob is told to be fruitful when he already has 11 sons. The wife whom he loves dies right after near a place called “fruitful”.  Jacob then takes Joseph’s sons as his own and put the second born named fruitful as the first born. So Ephraim is the goal and it is connected to Rachel giving birth to Benjamin. Jacob’s blessing on Ephraim as the first born included the promise that Ephraim is to become the fullness of the gentiles in verse 1471.  Strong’s H1471= gentiles.  “multitude of nations” can also be “fullness of gentiles”
Genesis 48:19 And his father refused, and said, I know it, my son, I know it: he also shall become a people, and he also shall be great: but truly his younger brother shall be greater than he, and his seed shall become a multitude of nations.
The apostle Paul says the fullness of the Gentiles must come in.  This is Ephraim or the 10 lost tribes who were mixed into the gentile nations. Assyria conquered the northern kingdom about 722bc and assimilated them into nations.  Somehow God sees the gentiles as Ephraim in the Church Age:
Romans 11:25 For I would not, brethren, that ye should be ignorant of this mystery, lest ye should be wise in your own conceits; that blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in.
This then is the answer to how Jacob becomes fruitful when he already has 11 sons and only has one more.  Jacob gives Joseph the double portion and takes Ephraim and Manasseh as his own.  God divorces Ephraim (the head of the 10 lost tribes) and he becomes intermingled with the gentiles and God takes Ephraim back through Christ (who Joseph was a type of) and thus the gentiles or all nations. What tribe is the Apostle Paul from? Benjamin, the same Benjamin that Rachel gave birth to near Ephrath or fruitful. The apostle Paul was the apostle to the gentiles/Ephraim:
Romans 11:13 For I speak to you Gentiles, inasmuch as I am the apostle of the Gentiles, I magnify mine office:
Ephraim is mentioned one time in the New Testament. Jesus walks no more among the jews, but goes into Ephraim.  This is a picture of the jewish eyes being partly blinded and the Gospel going to the gentiles/Ephraim:
John 11:50-54 Nor consider that it is expedient for us, that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation perish not. And this spake he not of himself: but being high priest that year, he prophesied that Jesus should die for that nation;  And not for that nation only, but that also he should gather together in one the children of God that were scattered abroad. Then from that day forth they took counsel together for to put him to death. Jesus therefore walked no more openly among the Jews; but went thence unto a country near to the wilderness, into a city called Ephraim, and there continued with his disciples.
Notice also that John states that Jesus was not to die just for the jews but also for “the children of God scattered abroad” (Ephraim) so that God could gather in one the children of God.  This is prophesied in the old testament:
Ezekiel 37:19 Say unto them, Thus saith the Lord God; Behold, I will take the stick of Joseph, which is in the hand of Ephraim, and the tribes of Israel his fellows, and will put them with him, even with the stick of Judah, and make them one stick, and they shall be one in mine hand
Incredibly, the verse jump from the only mention of Rachel in the New Testament to the only mention of Ephraim in the New Testament is 3390. I added up the gematria of the 12 tribes camping around the tabernacle in Numbers 2. The gematria is 3390. (Ephraim 331, Manasseh 395, Benjamin 152, Dan 54, Asher 501, Naphtali  570, Judah 30, Issachar 530, Zebulon 95, Reuben 259, Simeon 466, Gad 7) H3390 = Jerusalem This concept is showing, I believe, that when Ephraim or the fullness of the gentiles comes in then Jerusalem, the bride, will be complete, they will be one stick.
Rachel’s only mention in the new testament is in verse 23188. She is shown as weeping in heaven for her children as Herod tries to kill Jesus. The only hope for Rachel and her children is Christ and His redemption.
Matthew 2:18 In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not.
This is verse 7915 from the end of the Bible.  The first verse in the Bible with a gematria of 7915 is about the gentiles coming in. Romans 9:25 As he saith also in Osee, I will call them my people, which were not my people; and her beloved, which was not beloved.
The above verse is from Hosea and is about Ephraim who stands for the northern kingdom consisting of the 10 tribes who were taken captive by Assyria.  Again, they are called the 10 lost tribes today because they never returned.  They were absorbed into the gentile nations. The verse jump from the only occurrence of Rachel in verse 7915 from the end to this first verse with a gematria of 7915 is 4993.  4993 is the 669th prime.  Strong’s H669 = Ephraim. Rachel’s first mention in verse 802 of the Bible is 669 verses before Ephraim is prophesied to become the fullness of the gentiles. Strong’s H669 =Ephraim So Ephraim is extremely important in the plan of God.  He is the gentiles coming in, the church age we are in.  The time of tribulation we are in.  They were the people who were God’s people and were divorced from God and were then not His people and have been called back in as His Sons.  Ephraim is the picture of the prodigal son. The older brother is Judah.
So I am saying the 2000 year church age we are in is about the return of Ephraim as the head of the 10 tribes returning.  God seems to show this concept numerically in other ways. First, Enoch is taken 669 years before the flood. Strong’s H669 = Ephraim.  Enoch, as a picture of the Church, is complete when the fullness of the gentiles/Ephraim comes in and then the wrath of God is poured out. The Flood and its death to all people not in the ark is a picture of the wrath of God poured out in the 7 vials in Revelation upon the unrighteous. Methuselah also only lives this 669 years.  He dies in the year of the Flood.  I have posted on him many times how he is tied to the trumpets and his name means "man on a mission” or missionary man.  He is sent out to sound the trumpet/preach the gospel.  He is the church age matching the strong’s number of Ephraim. Second, we see the fullness of the gentiles coming in in verse 28235:
Romans 11:25 For I would not, brethren, that ye should be ignorant of this mystery, lest ye should be wise in your own conceits; that blindness in part is happened to Israel, until the fulness of the Gentiles be come in.
Enoch is strong’s H2585.  Add 2585 verses to the fullness of the gentiles coming in and you have all the nations standing before God.  This is Ephraim and Judah as one stick together.
Revelation 7:9 After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands;
The third way numbers show this is Strong’s G2187=Ephraim.  Eber dies at age 464 after 2187 years.  The number 464 is tied to the door closing. This is verse 464, a door being shut:
Genesis19:6 And Lot went out at the door unto them, and shut the door after him, In this famous rapture verse of “closing a door”, the word “door” has a gematria of 464:
Isaiah26:20 Come, my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors about thee: hide thyself as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast.
The door closing is a picture of the end of the Church Age, the fullness of the gentiles/Ephraim have come in. The gospel going to the gentiles/Ephraim and the Holy Spirit given to them is found in Acts 10.  It is chapter 1028 of the B.  Verse 1028 of the bible is Rachel going into travail close to Ephrath-the same root as Ephraim meaning fruitful as I spoke about earlier in the post.  I have also alluded to the symbolism of Rachel travailing and the great tribulation of the Church Age.
Genesis 35:16 And they journeyed from Bethel; and there was but a little way to come to Ephrath: and Rachel travailed, and she had hard labour. In Acts 10, Cornelius has a vision at Caesarea: Acts 10:1 There was a certain man in Caesarea called Cornelius, a centurion of the band called the Italian band,
Strongs G2883=“Cornelius” means “horn”.  In the Bible horns represents nations and powers. Strong’s G2542 Caesarea=severed or to cut So Cornelius represents a severed or cut off nation. This cutoff nation is Ephraim and the 10 lost tribes who assimilated into the gentiles. Recall that God told Abraham he would be exceeding fuitful (Ephraim) and make nations, plural.  This verse has a gematria of 2542 matching the Strong’s number for Caesarea:
Genesis 17:6 And I will make thee exceeding fruitful, and I will make nations of thee, and kings shall come out of thee.
The gentiles were always God’s plan. In Acts 10 Peter also has a vision and is called by Cornelius.  He is at Joppa when he has the vision:
Acts 10:5 And now send men to Joppa, and call for one Simon, whose surname is Peter: Joppa is tied to Rachel. Recall Rachel is called beautiful while Leah is weak eyed:
Gen 29:17 Leah was tender eyed; but Rachel was beautiful and well favoured. The gematria of this verse is 3305.  Strong’s H3305 = Joppa. Joppa means “beautiful”.  It has the same root as Strong’s H3303=”beautiful”, which is the word used for Rachel in the above verse.
I hope this illustrates the constant tie in between Rachel and Ephraim.
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papirouge · 1 year
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I'm not saying your opinion bears any weight on the facts, haha. My point is that your gatekeeping is built on falsehoods, so your vitriol is destructive. Children born to certain races are literally that race as well. You're my sister in Christ. I pray that God's truth is not lost on you and you find content in letting divisiveness go.
What I'm saying is actually factual, it's just your entitlement to lecture a Black person what it takes to be Black clouds your ability to process correctly what I said
- me saying a mixed person from Black and White parents isn't Black doesn't deny the fact they are Black and White. There's no retrieving anything off their identity. Like café au lait is both coffee AND milk but it's not coffee or milk - it's BOTH, in the same time. It's insane how oddly obtuse you're being about it.
- there's nothing vitriolic or divisive about acknowledging mixed people are different from ppl of one race. You're the only one making an issue. Actually, if you knew what you were talking about, you'd know that claiming mixed people as our own actually feeds colorism in the Black community (ever wondered why mixed and lightskins/exoticals were overtaking the representation of Black women on mainstream media?) and that actual mixed people try to claim their own identity beside Black or White dichotomy?
The Rachel Dolezal stunt would never happened if Black people were gatekeeping more what it takes to claim as 'us'. Actually this scandal has been a wakeup call for those who were still into this "Black comes in all shades" koolaid, and I'm glad more and more speak up about how ridiculous the one drop rule is
Is saying that Asians are (physically) different from Whites? Like... I don't understand what's demonization in this. Acknowledging the difference between human population ≠ considering some better or lesser..
sorry but you seems to project A LOT more in my initial statement than I actually meant and I wish you'd stop getting all "I pray for you" condescending because there literally wasn't any bad feeling aimed towards any particular race or community in it🤨
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randpaulsdickring · 2 years
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Generally I guess I wouldn’t feel it necessary to make such a sharp point… I need to talk to some of the older adults in the Asian American community so that we are better able to protect our children from predators and Rachel profilers… Rachel profilers I guess which one Rachel with an E Rachel with an a E or marks Rachel is that is that even a real Rachel or is that just a made up bullshit game two… Well I’m not gonna play the two game because I would be dishonoring myself if I did that and I would be dishonor in what I know to be right and I know the difference in right and wrong and since you guys do not know the difference and right and wrong I’m gonna continue on my lecture until oh shit falls on everybody’s house yeah it’s gonna be bad Mark‘s daughters gonna be dragged through the mud every black person in the state is probably calling her again… The African-American community doesn’t have integrity right now apparently afford a lot of that so if I were some of you I would be extremely careful it’s kind of like having sex with a shit bag like Nick if you don’t trust them for some reason it’s probably not good of course if you already know that you’ve been put in the Alisa heat… Nobody in that group is going to cross and even if Mark‘s daughters want to have a new daddy with a bigger dick… Or whatever kink games they have that’s just not possible guys
He acts like I fucking just go after every fucking person who has a limp who the fuck are you who has Alex why is it that that’s any of your business but like I don’t care if you were talking to me Alex your daughter my mom anybody that’s not your business
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✨ Tag 9 people to learn more about their interests!
tagged by my fav @loulovehome thank you pu hope that this quells your curiosity! 
MUSIC
fav genre? not to be that person but i think i have a toe in most genres, i suppose my favorites have got to be anything taylor swift does, pop punk, r&b pop/new age r&b, and bluegrass
fav artist? again, not to be that person but i love so many artists! let’s do this based off of genre: taylor swift, 1D, 5sos, massive focus on ZAYN, the Avett brothers, and counting crows
fav song? fav song of all time (since i was young) is going to be come around by rhett miller but more currently i’d say you are in love by taylor swift and dRuNk by ZAYN
song currently stuck in your head? i have no idea how it got there but i have stressed out by 21 pilots stuck in my head??
5 fav lyrics? ok let’s do this kids. edit: this went in a “fav love song lyrics” way so sorry in advance.
1)  I hope that I don't sound to insane when I say / There is darkness all around us / I don't feel weak but I do need sometimes for her to protect me / And reconnect me to the beauty that I'm missin' (January Wedding - The Avett Brothers)
2)  Hands around my waist / You're counting up the hills across the sheets / And I'm a falling star / A glimmer lighting up these cotton streets / I admit I'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules / But I've found my sweet escape when I'm alone with you (Disconnected - 5sos)
3)  This is the worthwhile fight / Love is a ruthless game / Unless you play it good and right / These are the hands of fate / You're my Achilles heel / This is the golden age of something good / And right and real (State of Grace - Taylor Swift) 
4)  What if I changed my mind / What if I said it's over / I been flying so long / Can't remember what it was like to be sober / What if I lost my lives? / What if I said "Game over"? / What if I forget my lies? / And I lose all my composure (Back to Life - ZAYN)
5)   I never said I was perfect / Or you don't deserve a good person to carry your baggage / I know a few girls that can handle it / I ain't that kind of chick, but I can call 'em for you if you want / I never said that you wasn't attractive / Your style and that beard, ooh, don't get me distracted / I'm tryna be patient, and patience takes practice / The fact is I'm leaving, so just let me have this (Jerome - Lizzo)
radio or your own playlist | solo artists or bands | pop or indie | loud or silent volume I slow or fast songs | music video or lyrics video | speakers or headset | riding a bus in silence or while listening to music | driving in silence or with radio on
BOOKS
fav book genre? murder mystery and young love!
fav writer? jane austen, lisa jewell, and rick riordan (nostalgia ok?!)
fav book? the way i used to be my amber smith, rebecca by daphane du maurier, and then she was gone OR watching you (both by Lisa Jewell)
fav book series? i guess the whole percy jackson situations? i have everything RR every wrote, and i liked it all but i havent touched the older ones in ages
comfort book? not one specifically but the nancy drew books
perfect book to read on a rainy day? bird summons by leila aboulela
5 quotes from your fav book that you know by heart? i hope i can name five...
1)  “The point is, life has to be endured, and lived. But how to live it is the problem.” “I am no traveller, you are my world.” (both are My Cousin Rachel by Daphne Du Maurier)
2)  “And I’m terrified he’ll see through the tough iceberg layer, and he’ll discover not a soft, sweet girl, but an ugly fucking disaster underneath.” (The Way I Used to Be by Amber Smith)
3)  "I cannot make speeches, Emma," he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover. But you understand me. Yes, you see, you understand my feelings and will return them if you can. At present, I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.” (Emma by Jane Austen) (sorry for the length, the shortened versions were not cutting it for me)
4)  “Read, read, read. That's all I can say.” (The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene)
5)  “...amazing how boring you can get away with being when you’re pretty. No one seems to notice. When you’re pretty everyone just assumes you must have a great life. People are so short-sighted, sometimes. People are so stupid. I have a dark past and I have dark thoughts. I do dark things and I scare myself sometimes.” (Invisible Girl by Lisa Jewell)
hardcover or paperback | buy or rent | standalone novels or book series | ebook or physical copy | reading at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature | listening to music while reading or reading in silence | reading in order or reading the ending first | reliable or unreliable narrator | realism or fantasy | one or multiple POVS | judging by the covers or by the summary (im a very judgmental reader) | rereading or reading just once
TV AND MOVIES
fav tv/movie genre? i like dramedies, mockumentaries, and procedurals 
fav movie? ive got a massive list on my phone but ill pick Doob (No Bed of Roses) and 3-Iron as my favs for today
comfort movie? 2000s romcoms, im talking clueless, 13 going on 30, how to loe a guy in ten days, ten things i hate abt you, legally blonde
movie you watch every year? mamma mia and all listed in prev question
fav tv show? too many, currently im rewatching arrested development
comfort tv show? new girl
most rewatched tv show? new girl
ultimate otp? shawn and jules from psych (ultimate bc ive been watching since diapers literally)
5 fav characters? winston bishop, stiles stilinski, bellamy blake, clarke griffin, lydia martin
tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging | one season or multiple seasons | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once | downloads or watches online
super fun even though it took me an hour lmao, I'm tagging @technosoot @hometothecanyonmoon @sassylilnoodle @sushiniall @rosegold-thorns no pressure and sorry if youve already been tagged!
edit: i somehow managed to forget what i consider to be one of the greatest opening verses ever???? so bonus lyrics:
Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog / Where no one notices the contrast of white on white / And in between the moon and you / The angels get a better view / Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right (Round Here - Counting Crows)
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monstersandmaw · 3 years
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Male vampire x male character - Part Two (nsfw) (Halloween ‘surprise’ Patreon story).
Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.
I'm really pleased that you and my Patrons enjoyed the first part, and that folks were keen for more. I’ve had more interaction with this post on Patreon than many of the others, which is surprising given how mlm stories are usually much less in demand than m/f ones. Thanks for that!
Anyway, here's more of our favourite oblivious dork Alec and his obviously-not-a-vampire crush... Part Three is on the way too (tomorrow), despite this having been planned as a quick porn-without-plot one-shot, as it were. Oh well?!
Hope you enjoy.
Part One
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After his initial - admittedly strange - meetings with Sebastien, Alec didn’t see him on campus at all for the rest of the week, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Yes, the guy had been a bit of a pompous arsehole in the library, but he’d made up for it by coming to the art room and apologising, engaging him in conversation — even if that conversation had been slightly… odd? — and being so god-damn-fucking beautiful too.  
He overheard his students gossiping about ‘Dr. Dulac’ earlier that afternoon while they all carved the pumpkins he’d bought for them at the local supermarket, and it seemed that the general consensus was that Sebastien was single, unfailingly polite (even in the face of Janette Hilton, the English Department’s longest-serving and least sympathetic lecturers), hotter than any celebrity you cared to name, and a specialist in the poets of the First World War like Sassoon and Brooke, among other more esoteric interests.  
After an hour of clock-watching in his tiny little office in the Art Department on Friday, he abandoned all hope of concentrating on his last few bits of admin, and shut down his laptop. After clearing up yet more pumpkin seeds that he’d somehow missed on the last two sweeps he’d done of the studio, he stepped outside, never wanting to see another bloody thing again. Too bad he had a whole bloody cardboard box of them waiting to go into the boot of Kay’s car for her party that night. Still, he was almost sinfully proud of the carvings he’d done on them. One was decorated the whole way around with the foliate style engravings usually reserved for the steel on antique guns, with different depths to create the highlights and shadows, and another particularly spherical one had been cut away in squares to resemble the Death Star.  
The October air outside bit into his lungs as he drew a deep breath - the spicy, fragrantly damp scents of autumn filling his nose - and his eye was drawn to the twinkling lights of the little coffee cart that still lingered in the park, selling tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to chilly students leaving the university campus for the night. With a black coffee for himself in one hand, he made his way to the Engineering Department, warily holding another frothy concoction in his other. It was apparently called a ‘London fog’ and it smelled of earl grey tea and lavender. He thought it sounded (and smelled) disgusting, but Kay perked right up when he deposited it on her desk five minutes later.  
“Bless you, Alec Twayblade,” she grinned, taking the plastic lid off and inhaling it like it was the best thing she’d ever smelled. “Oh my god. How can you not like this?” she said after taking a huge gulp and moaning obscenely.  
Alec didn’t bother to reply, his eye-roll speaking volumes anyway. They’d had this discussion so many times that they were both probably playing it out silently in their heads right that second. When Kay glanced up and saw that he certainly was, she snorted and grinned. “I love you, Alec,” she laughed. “You’re still coming tonight?”
“Against my better judgement,” he growled, leaning his weight on her desk and folding his arms across his battered, blue cable knit sweater. He had a huge daub of yellow paint on one elbow from that morning, and a small burn hole in the bottom from a failed attempt at pyrography a few years ago. It was the most comfortable jumper he owned, and he would probably wear it until it unravelled around him.  
“You’re still not going to wear a costume, are you?” she added as she stood, pouting.  
He shook his head. “I draw the line at that.”
“But you’d be so good making one!” she countered. “You helped me with that bat costume when we were at high school… Don’t you remember how fucking awesome it was?”
“I do,” he chuckled. “But I’m not going to wear one myself.”
She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Too much attention, huh?” she said softly. “Well, you know you’ll stand out more if you’re not wearing one tonight…?”
He shrugged. Honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered to dress up. Halloween had rather lost its shine for him anyway. “Not if I hide in the kitchen all night and make too-strong cocktails for everyone,” he said, flashing her his most roguish grin. “Plus, I spent much of today carving pumpkins with nattering eighteen year olds who are far too old to be carving pumpkins on academic time, but —”
“— you’re an awesome teacher who understands the need to let off some steam on the holidays,” she interjected. “Plus, it’s good practice anyway… working with a new medium…”
He allowed his lips to pinch upwards into a tiny smirk and let her have that one. “It’s nice to see them having fun,” was all he said.  
An hour or so later, just as he arranged the last of the pumpkins down the garden path of Kay's Victorian semi-detached house, a voice murmured from behind him, “I can see the hand of a master at work in these carvings.”
Not having heard anyone approaching, Alec jumped, cursed, and dropped the pumpkin - thankfully with the candle still unlit. It rolled in a semicircle until a black boot gently stopped it, and a familiar face dipped into view as the owner of the boot bent to pick it up. To his surprise, it was Sebastien, and he was in costume. Probably anyway. Hopefully? Fuck. Alec’s brain stalled at the sight of him.  
His eyes raked up Sebastien’s body and his jaw went quite literally slack.  
The slender man was wearing thigh-high boots and leather pants so tight they had to have been spray-painted on, into which was tucked a loose, old-fashioned, white shirt with a good bit of flounce at the collar. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and Sebastien chuckled softly, a low, amused sound in the back of his throat.  
“You recognise the costume?” he asked, seeming innocently amused. The long, dark coat, accented with gold brocade and bright gold buttons, opened briefly in a soft gust of wind that made the lit pumpkins flicker and lifted his loose, silver-white hair back for a breath as well.  
“I…” he swallowed. “Uh, you’re Alucard,” he croaked. “From the Castlevania games…” A wry incline of Sebastien’s head told him he was correct, and then Alec blurted stupidly, “Shouldn’t you be shirtless though?”
Sebastien’s smile grew from pleased to deeply amused, his eyes glittering, and it was only then that Alec noticed the contacts burning a bright gold in his eyes and, as his lips peeled back and Sebastien began to laugh, he saw long, tapering, white canines befitting a vampire costume. “It’s a little cold for that, don’t you think?” Sebastien asked, still laughing quietly as Alec flushed crimson.  
“Sorry,” he blurted. “I know. I just… forget it.”
“Where do you want it?” Sebastien asked, and Alec’s poor brain went blank.  
“What?”
“The pumpkin,” Sebastien deadpanned and Alec’s poor, blank brain melted out of his ears with embarrassment.  
“Uh… there’s fine,” he said, pointing at the little wrought-iron garden gate.  
Sebastien placed the pumpkin down on the flagstone path so that the carved graveyard scene glimmered and flickered with appropriate spookiness, visible to anyone approaching along the quiet, suburban street. Enormous London plane trees stood sentry every few paces, heaving up the tarmac pavement with their roots, like a sleeper shifting a blanket with a restless turn, and sheltering the cars snuggled and parked beneath them. A carpet of leaves clung to the gutter in a long, golden line, melting into nothing in places in the glittering puddles. It would have been beautiful, had Alec not been faced with quite literally the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.  
“Am I early then?” Sebastien asked, dusting off his palms and turning back to face Alec, who had barely managed to make his legs work long enough to stand up straight again.  
He shook his head. “No. Henry’s inside already,” he said, running his fingers through his scruffy black hair. “With Rachel and Alison. I just forgot to put the pumpkins out earlier.”
“No costume?”  
With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. “Nope.”
“Too bad,” Sebastien said, eyeing the front door. The contacts were really creepy, shifting in the light that spilled down the stairs as the front door suddenly opened and Kay stepped out before he could worry that he’d been the only one to dress up. He could probably brush it off anyway, Alec supposed, and tried not to envy the man’s quiet confidence.
Silhouetted starkly against the hall light, with her high ‘Dracula’ collar on prominent display, Kay shrieked with glee and clapped her hands when she saw Sebastien. Apparently the two of them had been getting along rather well, while Alec had sequestered himself away in the Art Department like an ascetic.  
“Bastien! You look amazing oh my god!” she blurted, rushing forwards a step or two before halting abruptly. “Wait, does that make me your father for the evening?” she cackled. “Wow, your teeth are really good! Mine wouldn't stay in for more than a few minutes…”
Sebastien’s gold eyes flickered sideways to Alec but it happened so briefly that he almost missed it. “Custom made a long time ago,” was all he said. “Shall we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”
“Yes, of course, come on in,” she said, waving them all inside, Sebastien first. As Alec passed her last, she slapped him hard on the backside in rebuke and hissed, “Told you you should have worn a costume! You look like a big dumbo!”
“No different from any other night,” he quipped back, and she growled something indistinct at him. Perhaps a werewolf costume would have suited her better. “You could have told me you’d invited Dulac…”
“Why?” she retorted. “So you could suddenly decide that an evening moping alone with your PS4 playing Rocket League with strangers was more appealing? No fucking chance. Get inside. Sebastien’s right; I’m freezing my tits off.”
The distant murmur of voices in the living room made him veer off instinctively into the kitchen, and while they began to watch some old Hammer horror film, he made drinks. That, at least, he was good at.  
Entering a while later, he found that Sebastien was seated on the sofa beside Henry, who wore an enormously fluffy wolfman costume - mostly a repurposed Chewbacca onesie with a latex wolf mask. He’d pushed the mask up onto his head in order to eat the Halloween themed nibbles on the coffee table, and the effect rendered him entirely ridiculous. Another reason not to wear a costume: it’s impractical, and gets in the way, and washing ketchup out of matted fake fur is a nightmare. Alison and Rachel sat practically in each other’s laps, one a zombie and the other a ghost, both squeezed into one groaning old armchair.  
After half an hour of Christopher Lee’s admittedly creepy Dracula, Alec slid from his seat at the periphery, and ducked out again into the kitchen. Straightening from fishing a beer from the back of the fridge, he heard the soft click of the door and turned to find Sebastien standing there.  
“Get bored with late 1950’s horror too?” Alec asked. “Beer?”
Sebastien inclined his head in a way that said he wasn’t a beer drinker and held up his almost-empty wineglass as an excuse as he moved a little closer. “If you don’t like cheesy horror films, and you don’t seem to like Halloween either, I wonder why you came at all tonight?”
“For Kay,” he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She loves this shit.”
At that, Sebastien paused, a delicate smile on his face. In the soft glow of the under-cupboard lighting, his tanned skin seemed to shimmer, and Alec wondered fleetingly if he’d put some kind of glittery body powder on. Next, he wondered what on earth Sebastien was doing in here with him, looking at him like that.  
“You are a good friend,” Sebastien said quietly, seeming perhaps a little sad around the edges.  
“She’s done more than her fair share of looking after me,” Alec sighed knowingly. “Not that I’m doing it because I owe her,” he added, twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning back against the counter to drink deeply from it. As the malty froth washed over his tongue, he felt eyes on him and looked over at the other man.  
Sebastien tilted his head slightly to the side, the false golden light in his eyes making him look like a cat in the dark. “You said she was trying to set you up with someone…”
Alec snorted, nearly shooting beer out of his nose. “Yeah. Well, she seems to think a good fuck will sort my mood out.”
“But you think otherwise?”
“You offering?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig and feeling uncharacteristically bold, though absolutely not expecting the answer he got.  
“Perhaps.”
His eyebrows shot up and this time he did cough a little. “You can’t be serious.”
“You think someone who looks like me is entirely straight?” he asked with a wry smile, and Alec had to hand it to him. Not many men he knew could pull of long, luscious, white-blond hair like that, or would have the confidence to wear fucking thigh-high boots and whisper-tight leather pants…
“Still… you don’t really know me… That’s all I meant…”
“Doesn't mean one couldn’t engage in — how did you call it? — ‘a good fuck’. Not that I’m averse to getting to know you better, before or after.”
Alec swallowed another enormous gulp of frothing beer and blinked. “You’re serious?”
With a melodramatic smile that revealed his vampire teeth clearly, ‘Alucard’ purred, “Deadly.”
And Alec burst out laughing. The spell was shattered and the two men shared the remnants of their drinks and their laughter together before Alec sighed. “Your place or mine?”
At that, Sebastien seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t thought through to that point. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I assume yours would be alright?”
Alec shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind smacking your head on the ceiling and being able to touch two opposite walls at the same time…”
Sebastien’s lips hitched into another wry smile. “I’ve fucked in tighter spaces, I’m sure.”
“You know what?” Alec said as he rinsed out the beer bottle at the sink and half-turned to look at the other man over his shoulder. “You’re absolutely not what I expected.”
“Nor were you,” he shot back, still smirking. “And it’s been a while since I was assaulted by someone in a library.”
“Bring back happy memories, did it?” he snorted.  
“Not exactly,” Sebastien murmured, and Alec realised he hadn’t actually been joking. “But I must confess that — despite my behaviour — I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of you when you rounded that bookshelf…”
Turning, Alec approached him cautiously. If he was genuinely serious about his proposal, Alec would find out now. “Pleased enough to seek me out afterwards…” he said, raising his eyebrows. He couldn’t do that ‘one brow at a time’ thing that Sebastien could, but it seemed to get his tone across all the same.
Unusually for Alec, Sebastien had an inch or two on him in height, and as Alec paused in front of him, close enough to catch the faintest hint of a woody cologne, the man angled his face just perfectly for the light to dance along his high cheekbones. Fuck, he was exquisite. The urge to kiss him rose in Alec; to feel his lips against his own, to have those elegant hands scrunch his hair…  
As if reading his mind, Sebastien slowly, carefully, raised his right hand and brought his index finger to Alec’s chin, tilting it upwards just a fraction with the lightest pressure. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, and it left Alec breathless. Again. Panting slightly, he parted his lips and then swallowed thickly.  
Sebastien’s eyes darted instantly to the motion of his throat and for a second, Alec could have sworn he saw a vibrant red light reflected in his eyes. Sensing his moment of hesitation, of tension, Sebastian frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” Alec breathed. “I thought your eyes went red but it must have been a car on the street outside or something.”  
“Indeed,” he murmured, but then blinked rapidly. “Do you still wish to continue this?”
“Yes,” he whispered. Don't stop now. His whole body was thrumming in a way it hadn’t ever before with casual encounters. He felt alive for the first time in months.  
Sebastien stepped back, turning his face away a little more. “Should we make our excuses…?”
Alec shook his head. “Nah, Kay will know what’s going on anyway, and I don’t want to face her smug looks until tomorrow at the least.”
With a softly amused chuckle, Sebastien stepped back and allowed Alec to leave the room first. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the other man followed behind, but he didn't turn around or look at him until they were outside on the main street.  
“It’s a bit of a walk…” Alec said, only realising then how long the walk would be. “I’m way over on the other side of town by the station…”
The continuing intensity of Sebastien’s scrutiny was beginning to shift from a turn-on to just marginally unnerving, but he told himself that an esteemed professor at one of the country’s finest universities, with more letters after his name than anyone his age had a right to possess, was unlikely to be truly dangerous for a one-night stand… right? There was something about the way he stared at Alec — an unmistakable hunger in his eyes — that made his skin prickle and his heartbeat jump instinctively. Like a deer before the gaze of a tiger, he was entranced.  
Unexpectedly, Sebastien’s easy stride slowed at the brick gateway to a small, gravel park that sat between an old church and a chemist, the latter closed at this time of night. “May I kiss you?” he breathed, still gazing at him unblinkingly, as though Alec were the pretty one in this equation, not him.  
Alec couldn’t help grinning. The way Sebastien’s eyes bored into him then drove all thought of threat and fear from his mind, and he nodded.  
The man’s hands were chilly from the night air, but the moment they cupped his jaw and drew Alec toward him, he forgot about that. He forgot about everything at the meeting of their lips. Sebastien began tentatively, merely brushing their lips together, but when his golden eyes fluttered closed, he deepened the gesture, tongue just begging entrance, teasing him before withdrawing, retreating and returning.  
Searing want shot down Alec’s spine and he arched into Sebastien’s taller body, hips seeking contact through his jeans. He moaned, deep and guttural, and it seemed to awaken something in Sebastien, because the man grabbed hold of the back of Alec’s hair and pulled his head slightly to one side to begin to kiss along his jawline, down to wards his neck. For a heartbeat, Sebastien froze there, nose pressed to his rabbiting pulse point, his teeth just grazing skin, before he exhaled harshly and stepped back. “We shouldn’t get carried away,” was all he whispered, stepping slightly out of Alec’s dazed field of view. “My place is nearer though.”
“Ok,” Alec said, still reeling. “Sure.”
When they reached the apartment building, his steps faltered in amazement. “You live… here?”
A slight flush seemed to warm Sebastien’s cheeks as he stepped up to the main doorway, only to have it opened from the other side by a man in livery. “Good evening, Monsieur Dulac,” said the friendly doorman instantly.  
“Good evening,” he replied. “This is my friend, Alec Twayblade.”
It was impossible for the doorman not to realise that his ‘friend, Alec Twayblade’ was going to be a little more than that for the night, but he never let a flicker of judgement pass across his face. From the concierge desk - Sebastien’s building had a fucking concierge desk too - another man looked up and wished them both a good evening as they headed for the lifts.  
“Does the English department also sell diamonds or drugs or something? How the fuck can you afford a place like this on a lecturer’s salary?” but even as he said it and the doors closed with a soft chime, he realised the truth of it. Sebastien’s aristocratic features and bearing were not merely a persona. They were truth. He stared up at him while Sebastien turned a key in the lift panel.
“Are you secretly royalty or something?” he whispered, only half joking.  
The man shot him an amused look and shook his head, silk-white hair whispering against the rougher wool of his costume coat. “No, of course not, but I do have some inherited wealth.”
Some? “So you don’t actually have to work at the university at all then?”
He made a so-so motion of his head and said, “No, not really, but I genuinely enjoy teaching.”
“Your students certainly seem to enjoy you…”
“You don’t enjoy teaching?” he asked as the numbers on the dial climbed and climbed.  
Please don’t say you live in the fucking penthouse too, Alec thought, already suspecting it might be true from the whole ‘special access key’. He glanced at the number pad and saw that the button labelled ‘PH’ was illuminated. Fuck. “Most days I enjoy it,” he admitted. “But I kind of fell into it a while back and just sort of…” he shrugged, “Stuck with it.”
Sebastien asked no more, and the lift finally stopped on the top floor. The doors drew back to reveal an apartment beyond that Alec could only gawp at. It was like something from the set of an Architectural Digest photo shoot. Nothing was out of place in the hardwood floor paradise, with clean, crisp lines and white marble counter tops in the kitchen off to his left, while a comfortable, and yet still clinically modern, sitting area sat to their right. Deep, fluffy rugs dotted that part of the penthouse, and a wide balcony stretched out over the city beyond, complete with a little table and chairs for warmer evenings.  
“This place is incredible,” Alec breathed, the reason for his even being here completely forgotten.  
Clearly sensing that, Sebastien smiled bashfully and said, “Would you like something to drink?”
Alec cleared his throat and hoped he wasn’t going to be faced with a choice between very expensive wines that he’d never heard of. “Sure… thanks.”
“White, red, beer, or whisky?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen and dumping his ‘Alucard’ coat over the back of a white sofa as he went. Alec’s mouth went dry as he watched the point where his narrow hips met the flowing material of the white shirt. Dear god, an arse like that shouldn’t be… well, it just shouldn’t be. And yet there it was. Clad in leather and looking positively delectable. “Or a soft drink?” he added when Alec remained silent.  
Aware of where his gaze had landed, Sebastien halted and looked back over his shoulder, long, loose, naturally straight hair already losing the curls that had been worked into it for the Alucard costume. Definitely not straight, if he owned hair curlers.  
“Uh…” Alec said, unsure what the question had even been now.  
“I’m going to pour myself a whisky, if that helps…?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Sebastien smiled, looking almost endeared by Alec’s inept stuttering. Surely he couldn’t be unused to such a reaction? “Make yourself at home then.”
With a smoky, peat-tinged whisky in a wide, heavy-bottomed tumbler set on his glass coffee table, Alec watched Sebastien turn the gas fire on, and, to his surprise, he came to a halt directly in front of him. Setting his own whisky down on the table with a deliberate, and yet delicate, clunk, Sebastien turned back to him and raked his eyes down Alec’s body in a way that made him flush hot all over. His cock twitched with interest and he tried not to preen under that gaze.  
Sebastien’s eyes and teeth were back to normal now, with no hint of the golden contacts or the vampire fangs, and Alec fleetingly assumed that he must have removed them at some point between getting the whisky and appearing in front of him looking like he was about to ravish him. Oh dear god, please let him be about to ravish me, he thought with a big, dumb grin spreading across his face.  
Seeing his reaction, Sebastien reached down and knelt facing him on the sofa, running his palm over the already-growing bulge in Alec’s jeans. Alec let out a deep grunt and rocked his hips up into the contact, throwing his head back against the soft, open weave of the white fabric. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.  
Sebastien’s fingers found the button of his jeans and deftly undid it, but he paused. “May I?” he asked, and Alec found himself nodding before he’d even worked out what Sebastien wanted.  
He found out a moment later, when his jeans were around his ankles and Sebastien was kneeling on the floor between his knees and licking a long stripe up the length of his rapidly hardening cock.  
“Oh god,” he panted as the wet heat of Sebastien’s mouth engulfed half of his length and then drew back to leave his wet tip exposed to the slight chill of the apartment air. The contrast stole his breath for a heartbeat, but Sebastien returned his attentions to his cock, gently sucking and working him to full hardness in a matter of minutes.  
Pleasure sparked through Alec’s whole body and he strained not to thrust back into Sebastien’s mouth, even as Sebastien took him right to the back of his throat, the tip of Alec’s cock nudging against the silky resistance of his throat.  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chanted as Sebastien’s fingertips just teased and caressed the underside of his balls too, and Sebastien hollowed his cheeks and sucked a little more insistently. “Oh fuck…” Really fucking eloquent here, Alec, he thought vaguely, but one look down at the vision kneeling between his legs and sucking him off drove even that thought from his brain.  
The suck and slide of Sebastien’s mouth was incredible, and while he had no idea quite how much time passed, it felt like mere seconds as the heat stoked in him until he could feel the orgasm threatening to crash through him. “I’m… I’m really close…” he gasped as Sebastien moaned against his cock, sending little vibrations thrumming through him and tipping him even closer. The sharp prick of his teeth every now and again was a perfect counterpoint to the slick heat of his mouth, and it was never enough to hurt. Normally Alec wasn’t one for including teeth in this, but with Sebastien, it felt perfect.  
Sebastien pulled back just as Alec felt himself beginning to coil up, his lips swollen and glistening from the exertion of bringing him that close, and he smiled. He looked radiant, and Alec’s cock twitched enthusiastically in his hands as he let out a soft whimper. The air was cold and his tip beaded pre-come freely, which Sebastien thumbed away with a surprisingly tender gesture, only to watch as more pearled immediately at his slit. Using just the tip of his tongue, Sebastien lapped at it delicately and Alec’s whole body shuddered.  
His thighs shook at the tiny, intense stimulation, with Sebastien's fingers gripping the base of his cock in a tight circle, and he gasped, chest heaving. It was too much and not enough, and as he found his perineum teased as well, he bellowed and trembled. He was half a heartbeat away from coming harder than he could ever remember coming in his life, and Sebastien wasn’t going to let him have it. He roared and ground his teeth, bucking his hips, which made Sebastien laugh softly.  
“Alright,” he heard him murmur, before he swallowed him down to the back of his throat again, and Alec shattered with a yell.
When he finally blinked his eyes open, he found that Sebastien had risen and was sitting on the small sofa beside him, whisky in hand, staring openly at him. He didn’t look smug exactly, but there was a quiet satisfaction to his brown eyes that made Alec flush, at which Sebastien’s beautiful lips drew back into a smile. He noted again those slightly larger canines, but they were nothing like the vampire teeth he had worn earlier.  
“What do you want?” Alec asked, voice hoarse. God, he sounded wrecked. Had he really shouted so hard he’d made his throat sore?
Sebastien’s dolorous, dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “What do you want?”
“To watch you come,” he said immediately.  
“And how would you like me to come?” Sebastien replied, sipping nonchalantly at the golden liquor as if the were discussing what Alec would like Sebastien to wear. As it was, his leather pants were constricting his obvious hard-on in a way that had to be painful for him, and his shirt was open at the neck to reveal delicate collarbones and a glimpse of his beautiful olive skinned chest.  
He was an absolute vision. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he blurted in a whisper before he could stop himself, and to his surprise, Sebastien laughed. The sound was bright, delighted, and oddly self-conscious, as if he hadn’t been expecting a compliment like that. “Sorry,” he added, looking away. “Look… if you’ve got condoms, I’m… I’m good to… you know…”
“You want me to fuck you?” Sebastien asked, his gaze sharpening again.  
“Yes?”  
“’Yes?’ Or ‘yes’…?” Sebastien asked, seeking clarification.  
“Yes. But I don't understand your question.”
“Look at me,” Sebastien said.  
“Hard not to…” Alec quipped back, still feeling utterly wrung out.  
“Most people assume I’m going to be the one taking it…”
Alec’s eyebrows rose as realisation settled. “Oh. And, what, I look like a top?”
Sebastien’s lips twitched. “Conventionally more so than I do, with your rugged looks and the rough shadow around your jaw…”
“So… do you want me to… you know…? Or…” Fuck, he felt like a teenager again, struggling to articulate himself and not get his sentences in a tangle while this breathtaking creature just sat there and watched him make an idiot out of himself.
“I very much want to fuck you,” Sebastien said at last. “If you’d like that as well.”
“Yes,” he said instantly.  
Sebastien set down his glass and rose in a single, elegant motion, and then held his hand out to Alec.
His skin was still cool, especially next to Alec’s searing body, and his hold was steady as Alec heaved himself to his feet and allowed himself to be alternately tugged and kissed into the bedroom. 
___
Part Three
Behold, plot has appeared to go with the Halloween porn I had planned. Alec’s family will come up in the next chapter.
___
I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me  know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!
__
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chenlucys · 3 years
Text
Right in front of you (2/2)
As promised here’s part 2. Check out for part 1 if you haven’t seen it yet. Hope you guys enjoy this one as well!!
Lucy rested her wine glass on the coffee table and walked over to the island where she was only a few feet away from Tim. She scanned his face for a reason for his sudden appearance but all she noticed was that he looked tired, haggard actually. It was a long week, and she knew Tim filling in for Sergeant Grey as watch commander was starting to take a toll on him. She had barely seen him that week, only at roll call and at the food trucks during lunch but she didn’t have time to talk during either of those times. 
Now here he was standing in front of her; this man could play tough around anyone but if anybody could get to him, it was Lucy Chen. She knew his weak spots, she wanted to understand him, something that his ex-wife hadn’t done even when they were still married. She knew this man all too well.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, pushing his hands deeper into his pockets, and turning to face her. 
“No. She had work to do anyway. Tim nodded as Lucy answered. “Tamara I can hear you listening, you know.” Lucy motioned to the door and picked up her keys, “Can we talk downstairs?”.
“Yeah.” He opened the door for her and Lucy noted that he was a lot more quiet than usual, not uttering a word until they were outside and alone.
“How are things with the puppy?” she finally heard him say, a hint of teasing in his voice.
“Great. I know you said not to bring your puppy home but I’m just trying to make sure there’s at least one person who cares about her.” There was a pause after she answered and she figured she would have to initiate the conversation.
“You’re too good of a person, you know that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment so thank you.” she knew he would give her a lecture about taking Tamara in, so she quickly changed the topic. “So, you said you wanted to talk?”
“How was your week?”
She raised an eyebrow at him, “Tim Bradford did you come all the way over here to ask me about work?”
“Then I get accused of not being nice.” She knew he was only teasing from the smirk on his lips. 
“My week was..eventful. Yeah well, you know that much already.” She had seen him when he signed off on the incident reports and while it wasn’t for long, she enjoyed seeing him nevertheless. “Richards is alert.”
“You mean he talks a lot.”
They both laughed at Tim’s blatant statement. 
“Yes, but I don’t mind it. I mean, my last partner was sort of pain in my ass and never talked to me.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, this guy made my days hell and refused to let me drive.”
“Hmm maybe he was trying to teach you how to be a good cop.”
She realized she’d been staring at him the whole time and planted her eyes on the ground. “I miss him.”
“Wait. What was that Officer Chen? You miss me?!”
She covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, “I am never telling you anything again.” Their eyes met each other then and smiled. “And I know you miss the action.”
“It’s been a tough transition. I went from being out on patrol every day to spending my days in the office. I thought I’d be used to it by now at least.” She hadn’t expected Tim to be so open about his experience as watch commander. Grey was still in recovery and had another six weeks before he was expected to return to work. 
“Hey,” she rested her hand on his arm bringing his attention back to her, “Make the best of this because soon you’ll be back on the streets with me.”
“They’re making Grey captain and they want me to take over permanently.” He watched the smile drop from her face as she struggled to remain positive. She knew that it meant they wouldn’t be working together again and wished her probationary training wasn’t over. “Boot, I never said I’d take it.”
She scanned his face for an explanation then. “You want my opinion? Why?”
“Because your opinion matters to me. I thought that’s what friends are for.” He knew that admitting they were friends would perk her up again. 
“You came here to get my opinion but I think you already made your decision and you want validation-”
“I never said validation.”
“when you already made the right choice. You wouldn’t ask me what I think unless you knew you were gonna accept it. For what it’s worth I think you’re going to do great. I mean come on, I should know, you trained me. Plus you’ve already had a month on the job.”
“A month is a lot different than ten years Lucy.”
“Tim, it’s like you told Rachel, dream jobs only come around once. It’s a rare opportunity and you need to take it while it’s still available. You taught me that.”
He had stopped listening to her a while ago but kept staring at her lips. Wondered what it would be like to kiss them. What they tasted like. It wasn’t the first time he had thought about it but Tim was a stickler for rules and he knew it was a point of no return. That it would change the way they saw each forever. He didn’t have a plan, just knew that he wanted the woman standing in front of him to be in his life, not just his job. He wanted to share things with her that he never told anyone. He wanted to open himself up to her. He didn’t know exactly when it started but there was only one person he wanted, “You think I should take the risk?
“You won’t know unless you try and-”
He would let her finish that statement another time. He gently cupped her face in his hands and pressing his lips against hers, roughly at first and then more gently, he moved his hands to wrap her waist and pull her against his body. She slowly slid her hands around his neck, reciprocating the kiss.
They didn’t know how long they’d been standing there before they both drew back from each other, their foreheads still pressed together. Lucy closed her eyes trying to savour the unexpected, long-awaited moment. 
He leaned back to look into her eyes. “You told me I would regret not taking the chance. I’m taking a chance on you.”
She still held onto him not wanting to let go, “So that’s what you meant at the wedding.”
“Yeah, but back then I meant as my rookie. I want to take a chance on you, Lucy. Forget the rules, some people matter more. ”
----------------
Lucy quietly closed the door, squeezing the handle careful not to make any noise as she entered the dark apartment. Tamara peeked out from her bedroom and Lucy could make out her smirk even in the dark. “Nothing going on between you two, huh?”
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esperantoauthor · 3 years
Note
Senior year Klaine!!! Applying for colleges! (Or you could just put some headcanons of how that year would go).
Hi Jas! This ask is literally 7 months old but I have every confidence that you still remember sending it because that is kind of your thing. I finally got inspired to pick back up the scene I had written and finish this off. It was a joy to write in this universe again for a little bit; thank you for sending this in when I invited people to send in prompts for scenes from the Express Yourself Verse. Without further ado...
Title: Applying to College [bonus content for the Express Yourself Universe] Author: Esperanto Length: 1,404 words 📚 Read it on Ao3 or below 📚
“You and Kurt talk much about college?” Burt asked conversationally as he handed Blaine a tire iron.
Blaine grasped the handle of the tool. “Some. I, uh, uh, I —don’t want to influ—to effect his de-de-decision so I haven’t shared my list yet.”
“Oh.”
Mr. Hummel looked disappointed. This confused Blaine, whose own parents had given him stern lectures about not throwing away his dreams for some high school boyfriend who, statistically, wasn’t going to be his forever partner anyways. Yes, his father had research to back up his point, as always.
“It’s irresponsible to choose a college based on where your boyfriend is going,” his father had lectured him.
“But he’s the love of-of-of my life,” Blaine had countered.
“Then your relationship will be strong enough to survive a little separation.”
His mother, always with the softer touch, had added, “You are just so young, sweetie, that’s all. You don’t want to limit yourself. It’s the responsible choice.”
They had worn him down in the end. He didn’t always agree with his parents but he knew they had his best interests at heart and as much as he was loath to admit it, he was young. There was a lot he didn’t know about life. College was a big deal and he didn’t want to screw it up by making an irresponsible decision.
But now, it seemed that following his parents’ advice meant disappointing Mr. Hummel. Blaine felt like he couldn’t win.
“So, how many colleges are you applying to?”
“I’ve got, uh, five applications —submitted but I’m not d-done yet.”
Blaine hoped his answer was good enough for Mr. Hummel. What if Kurt has applied to way more? Do I seem behind? I haven’t missed any deadlines.
“Is that, uh, a lot to apply to or… what’s the usual number?” Kurt’s usually confident father looked at Blaine with uncertainty in his eyes.
“Oh, I mean it, uh, it depends but I think like —five to eight is good.”
Burt fell into a plastic lawn chair and made a frustrated grunt. “I knew it!”
“Uh, you kn-knew what?”
“That Kurt doesn’t know any more about this than I do. I thought they had guidance—that’s what they’re called, right?— counselors at that school of yours. Aren’t they supposed to tell him this kind of stuff?”
“Um, they-they-they do, b-but no one has to talk to them. I...what do you m-mean he doesn’t know any more than, uh, y-you do?” Blaine asked, feeling deeply confused. Mr. Hummel was an adult, of course he knew more than them.
“Never went.”
“I...I ne-never realized. Not-not-not that it m-matters, of course!” Blaine felt his cheeks start to flush with embarrassment. Way to assume, Blaine!
“Got a job right out of high school, did the certification course at the junior college, and then I got real lucky that my boss decided to retire and wanted to pass on the business to someone he trusted. Can you do me a favor, kiddo?”
“Of course,” Blaine replied earnestly.
“Talk to Kurt about all this college stuff. He needs your help.”
“Um, o-okay.”
“Good.”
Blaine wasn’t sure how to bring up the topic without being heavy-handed but an opportunity presented itself to him just a few days later.
Kurt and Rachel strode into the cafeteria with their arms linked and matching smirks of self-satisfacts plastered across their faces; it was times like these that Blaine thought they could be siblings.
Blaine leaned in to accept the cheek kiss Kurt offered and then raised an expectant eyebrow, knowing that neither Kurt nor Rachel needed much prompting to spill when they were this excited.
Tina was not as patient. “Well?”
Kurt and Rachel turned to face one another before saying in unison, “We found our college!”
“It’s called NYADA,” Kurt added, face glowing with excitement. He pressed a colorful brochure into Blaine’s hands. “Please tell me you’ll apply too, Blaine!”
“Oh, I, uh… l-let me take a… look but, I mean, I p-p-p-probably, sure.” Blaine felt a bit flustered at being asked such a big question on the spot. Kurt’s gaze softened, clearly realizing what was happening and he gave Blaine’s thigh a comforting squeeze under the table.
“The deadline isn’t for another six weeks, so there’s plenty of time. Here, you hang on to this; I have more copies.”
That night, Blaine dutifully read through the brochure and researched the school online. His boyfriend, as always, had impeccable taste; it was clearly a top notch performing arts college. But the more he read, the more worried he became
He needed to talk to Kurt.
“Kurt, can we, um, um, well, can we talk about… about NYADA?”
“Sure! Did you read the flyer? Isn’t it just perfection?” Kurt clapped his hands against his thighs and bit his lip in excitement. Blaine swallowed thickly, thinking about how to do this without completely taking the wind out of Kurt’s sails.
“—Totally. The list of-of-of famous alumni alone was enough to, uh, convince me. Kurt, I would—I would love to go there.”
Kurt threw his arms around Blaine’s neck and kissed his cheek. “We’re going to New York! This is going to be perfect!”
“I, uh, I hhhope so. But Kurt… did you see that-that-that they only, uh, only accept 20 st-st-st-students a year? I… I think it would be a good… a good idea to have a backup, uh, plan.”
“You don’t think I’m good enough?” Kurt sounded hurt.
Blaine quickly leaned forward, gathering Kurt’s hands in his and drawing his gaze.
“No, no, sweetie, no, of-of course I do. But… e-e-everyone gets rejected from a-a-a-at least one or-or t-two colleges, Kurt. My…my father went to Harvard Law but even he didn’t get in everywhere.”
Kurt’s nose wrinkled in concern. “He didn’t?”
“He didn’t,” Blaine confirmed. "He was re-re-re—he didn’t get in to-to Colum-Columbia. And he got a-a-a-a-a perfect score on the SAT. He’s the one who —told me how important it is to-to-to apply to several schools, including a few ssssafety choices.”
Kurt sat back in stunned silence. “I thought the hard part was choosing the school… I had no idea. How many schools have you applied to so far, Blaine?” Panic was starting to creep into Kurt’s voice.
“Um, five so far.”
“So far?” Kurt’s voice cracked on the second word and he ran his fingers through his hard, something he only did when he was highly stressed. Blaine felt a sympathetic pang in his chest. “Well, which ones? Is it too late for me to apply to them too?”
“N-no, I don’t—I don’t th-th-think the deadline has-has-has —passed for any of them yet. I, um, let me think. I… applied to CUNY, NYU, Cornell, Northwestern, and-and-and Ohio State.”
“You want to go to Ohio State?” Kurt looked mildly scandalized.
“N-n-no.”
“Then why did you apply?” Kurt asked in befuddlement.
“It’s a-a-a…it’s —called a safety, um, school. It’s just in—just in c-c-c-case I don’t, I don’t get in anywhere, um, else. I’d r-r-rather go there than-than n-nowhere, you know? —Besides, my father said you-you-you-you can al-al-al-al-always transfer after a year.”
“Oh. Well, I guess there’s no harm in that.”
Well, that could have gone a lot worse. Blaine let out a contented sigh. He had managed to talk to Kurt about this delicate topic without embarrassing him.
“I, um, I-I-I can help you with the, uh, uh, um, the, uh, the research if you want.”
“That would be amazing, actually. I’m suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by this whole thing.”
“Happy to help. It is our fu-fu-future, after all. That’s always worth p-p-p-putting in a bit of work for.”
Kurt’s worried expression melted into a fond smile.
“Th-th-th-there’s this one program, actually—“
Suddenly, Blaine was flat on his back, looking up into Kurt’s mischievous eyes.
“Tomorrow, Blaine. We can start tomorrow. Tonight, I have other plans.”
Kurt didn't have to tell him twice.
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chironshorseass · 3 years
Note
29 and 30 fluff for perachel or percabeth? Hehe I like both ships don’t @ me. Love your writing btw!
I kinda managed to do both...kinda lol. This was fun to do :) Sorry in advance for the bad puns.
writing prompts
“Detention? Again?”
“Look, I can explain.”
Annabeth rolled her eyes and sat back on her bed, too tired to stand up and listen to what Percy had to say, most likely.
“Sure you can.”
They’d been Iris Messaging for a few minutes now. Percy, exhausted from a day of school and homework, had taken the first chance off to fish out a drachma from his drawer and call one of the people he’d missed most since the summer.
It had slipped his mind that New York and San Francisco had different time zones. But luckily, Annabeth was still awake. He’d found her in her bedroom, curls pulled into a messy bun and eyebrows scrunched up in concentration as she read some textbook, still studying for the exam she’d talked about a week ago.
Despite her initial complaints about Percy interrupting her, he knew that she didn’t mind.
“So?” she asked, bringing him back to the present.
She pulled her legs under her and stared at him expectantly.
He blinked. “Huh?”
She raised an eyebrow, and Percy thought—in the back of his mind—that she looked unfairly pretty. At night, with the fairy lights illuminating her hair and her face, like an angel.
“Why’d you get detention?”
“Oh. That.”
“Yes, Seaweed Brain. That.”
“Uhm…” Percy scratched the back of his neck. “It’s kind of a funny story, I um…”
“Spit it out.”
Now that he thought about it, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Maybe he should’ve thought this through, to avoid any arguments. Or confrontations. Or another cold shoulder. They weren’t as awkward now that the school year had started, but the mention of her always put Annabeth on edge, anyway.
“You see, I was with, uh...Rachel.”
He paused, noticing the way she gripped her textbook tighter, slightly wrinkling the pages.
Why did I think this was a good idea? Stupid.
“I was with Rachel, and she sort of, um...” he laughed nervously, already cringing. “Made a bet?”
Technically, he’d made the bet. But that wasn’t important for Annabeth to know.
/
Chemistry, in Percy’s opinion, was the most boring class Goode had to offer. Useless. Irrelevant.
Confusing, most of all.
At least he was partners with Rachel. It was one of the few classes they had together. They sat at the very back, so they were rarely noticed anyway, mostly spending the forty five minutes of lectures about chemical equations doing little drawing games on their notebooks and playing hangman. Percy lost most of the time.
The teacher wasn’t that great, either. Most of the school knew her as Mrs. Jones. She was a short lady in her late sixties with thin, badly dyed hair who had a concerning addiction to gum—so to Percy and Rachel—she was known as Mrs. Gum-Gum. She turned to the board for some explanation that Percy had completely lost interest on since the first five minutes of class. Rachel let out a low moan, hands on her forehead.
“Kill me now,” she muttered.
“Sorry, I can’t. My sword doesn’t work on you.”
“I hate you.”
“Yeah,” he grinned, leaning backwards and tilting his chair. “I know.”
She hit him in the shin. “You’re going to fall one of these days, and the class will never let you forget it.”
“Eh,” Percy shrugged. “At least they’d get a laugh and you wouldn’t be so bored.”
Her green eyes twinkled with humor like she’d just remembered something. She snorted. “Okay. So this one time, a girl was doing the same thing as you, leaning back and all—and she like, fell. It was hilarious, because she just lay there, with her feet in the air.”
“Rachel Dare,” Gum-Gum called, narrowed eyes cast on them. She kind of sounded like a wounded hyena, in his humble opinion. “I sure hope you and Mr. Jackson are discussing the worksheet that I gave out.”
Rachel nodded and threw her a thumbs up, while Percy held a fist to his mouth to stop the smile forming on his face. Gum-Gum left her alone and went back to her lecture.
The class kept its monotone routine of worksheets and notes, so as a distraction, Rachel grabbed his arm and popped the lids off her sharpies, drawing little figurines. She was on his second tattoo when an idea came to him.
“Hey, Rach?” he whispered, making sure the teacher was facing the board.
“Hmm.”
“We should play truth or dare.”
She grabbed the green marker and spread the ink from side to side across his skin. “Mmm...No.”
“Come on,” he whined. “I’m bored.”
“Yeah, but we’ve done truth or dare so many times now. It’s gotten old. Besides, you’re such a pussy.”
“Am not.”
“Yes, you are. Remember that time I dared you to eat the gum from under the seat?”
Percy made a face. “That was so fucking gross. Nobody in their right mind would’ve done that. Maybe Mrs. Gum-Gum, but I am not on her level.”
“I figured, after you blatantly refused. And then there’s the time when I dared you to kiss Mary Andrews. On the cheek. And you couldn’t do it.”
“Oh my gods, I can’t just kiss girls. That’s leading them on.”
She exhaled, long and deep and stared at him as if he were a lost cause. “Okay. Whatever.”
She went back to drawing on his arm.
“If anyone’s the pussy right now,” he whispered. “It’s you.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. You just wish you were as marginally cool as me.”
“Um...Then why won’t you play truth or dare?”
“Like I said: bo-ring.” She leaned closer to his arm, creating tiny details with the thinner side of the sharpie. “And don’t tell me I don’t do the dares, ‘cause I do. My last name’s Dare, after all. It would be a complete dishonor.”
“How long have you waited to say that?”
“Oh, you don’t wanna know. Now hold still. You’d look good with tattoos, by the way.”
He sighed. Okay, fine. She had a point, he wasn’t that great at doing “cool” stuff, likely because he was traumatized by the getting-kicked-out-of-schools thing he had going for him. You know, maybe it was that.
As Percy watched her work with her sharpies, he realized: maybe there was a way to prove to her that he could do daring stuff. A once in a lifetime thing. And in the process, he could make her smile.
“Fine,” he said. “If you don’t wanna do something, then let’s make a bet.”
“Depends on what you want to bet on, but go on.”
“How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”
The read-head stopped creating the swirly lines of the little wave she’d been working on, making his skin tingle from the loss of the pointy marker. She lifted her freckled face, watching him with raised eyebrows.
“Nah, you don’t have the guts.”
“Psh. ‘Course I do. I’m Percy Jackson.”
“Ohhh! Percy Jackson. I’m Rachel Dare, nice to meet you.” She lifted her hand like she wanted Percy to shake it.
He slapped it away. “Shut up. I can totally do it.”
“Do you not care about getting in trouble with dear ol’ Gum-Gum?”
“I’ll make it seem like an accident.”
“Nothing you do seems like an accident to teachers.”
“Good point. Still be worth it, though.” He lowered his voice even further. “Besides, I gotta prove to you that I can do cool stuff.”
Rachel snorted. “Now I could literally ask you to do drugs and you’d do it, apparently. Peer pressure is a dangerous thing, my dude.”
He grinned. “And I want your money. You’re like, rich, Dare.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Jackson.”
“No problem.”
Gum-Gum shot them an admonishing look, and they pretended to do their work.
“So,” she said after a few seconds passed. “How much money?”
“I knew you could work with me.”
“Ugh, I’m getting second thoughts from your dramatism.”
“You love it.”
They held gazes, green on green. Rachel narrowed hers and sighed. 
“Again, how much money?”
Percy shrugged. “You decide.”
“Fine.” She flipped some of her fiery curls over her shoulder. “I’m betting on a hundred bucks.”
He whistled under his breath. “Damn. You want me to do it that badly?”
“I do want to see everyone’s reaction to Percy Jackson losing his shit.” He shoved her, but she continued. “Especially Gum-Gum’s. But I know we’re getting in trouble, so we might as well go all out. What? It’s true! But at least you’d get your money.”
Percy shook his head. He’d probably regret this later.
Then he thought, what would Annabeth think?
But he couldn't dwell too much on that. At least it would be funny.
“We need to clear the desk, though.”
“Duh.”
So they worked, as quietly and discreetly as they could. When they’d finished, Percy turned to Rachel and nodded. She put a hand against her mouth to muffle her laughter.
On the third count, he flipped the desk. The table crashed with a resonating bang.
Rachel leaned backwards and let out a sound of surprise, probably because she’d half speculated that he wouldn’t pull through with it in the first place.
Immediately, everyone craned their heads to the back of the room. Some jumped at the sound. Others gasped or snickered, especially at the sight of Mrs. Gum-Gum. She yelped and dropped her marker, slapping a hand to her chest and retreating a few steps as if she were about to go into cardiac arrest.
“Percy Jackson!”
He winced a bit, but all in all, he thought he was keeping a straight face. But then he caught onto Rachel’s expression, arms crossed. He doubted they’d get off freely, just as she’d said.
/
As they shouldered their backpacks, heading for room 1345—detention—Rachel slipped her hand in the pocket of her paint-splattered uniform skirt.
“I didn’t know I had the money with me, but it seems as though he fates are in your favor, Jackson,” she said, taking the dollar bills from her pocket and handing them to him. They both knew all too well that she didn’t care for it. Daddy issues, he recalled.
Percy raised his eyebrow. “Thanks, Rach. Now, I can finally buy a new skateboard.”
“Nice to know that this was worth it.”
“Especially since now you have to do something...daring.”
She tapped her index finger to her temple mockingly. “Oh, I see. That’s why you wanted to do that bet. So then we could be on even ground.”
“Do you agree, Dare?”
“My gods, you’re so corny. But sure. Though let's not get ourselves a detention pass the next time, hmm? I feel bad for you. How many have you gotten this semester?” She clicked her tongue. “What will your mom say?”
1343, 1344 ... 1345. This was the place. Through the window, he could see many of the students already settling in, giving the teacher the strip of paper that he and Rachel had in their pockets.
He exhaled. “I don’t want to think about Mom just yet. But honestly, I don’t mind detention. And I don’t think she would, either. Better than getting kicked out.”
“Mmhmm. And I don’t really mind spending some more quality time with you. Even if we get in trouble, I kinda think you’re nice to be around, Jackson.” She smiled and held her arm out for him to pass. For some reason, that comment made his chest feel warm and fuzzy. “Gentlemen first.”
“Isn’t it ladies first?”
“Chivalry is dead. Now go on.” She nodded towards the door. “I like being fashionably late.”
“And you say I’m the dramatic one,” he grumbled.
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hopevalley · 3 years
Text
Season 8, Episode 5: What the Heart Wants
I was going to try to follow my scene-by-scene format for the entire season, but I’ve been getting a lot of migraines recently, presumably from staring at the computer too long, so I don’t want to spend all morning working on typing up the play-by-play for this episode.
Also, for what it’s worth I think this episode lends itself to plot discussion better than some of the previous episodes...at least in some sense.
And as another head’s up, it’s back to being critical for me. ;P
Storylines:
School Ends/Graduation/Parent-Teacher Conferences
The Dress Shop/Rachel
Postal Service, Ned
Bill’s Uniform, Nathan’s Vacation
Carson and Faith
Henry
Elizabeth and Lucas
Clara’s Dilemma
--
School Ends/Graduation/Parent-Teacher Conferences
This plot felt a little scattered, but for once it wasn’t the kind of storyline they foisted too much drama upon. After years of every single function possible being besieged by bullshittery, it’s a relief to see one go off without a real hitch.
The beginning scene with Robert hugging Elizabeth was sweet. I enjoyed the Canfields immensely and am intrigued by Angela’s role in the story long-term (PLEASE let her befriend Allie!). Nathan...eh, I have thoughts—but I’ll talk about that a bit soon. The actual ceremony was cute and kind of fun with the kids singing. 
Neat Thing I Noticed:
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Continuity? Cat Montgomery is still listed as Emily’s mother. ♥♥♥ I don’t know why but this made me really happy???
-
Complaint Corner:
Parent-teacher conferences should have been in this show from a much earlier point, and so should graduation have been. If there was a point to this celebration (the first year in a while anyone was old enough to graduate) that would have been a nice touch, too. It just managed to feel sliiiightly out of place.
I’ll forgive the “everyone in town goes to the graduation” thing because this is 1918...something like this would be a whole-town affair IMO. Invite everyone and have a nice get-together/party, probably on a Sunday afternoon after church but Hope Valley does whatever it wants, so...eh.
The threat of merging Hope Valley with other schools doesn’t fit in this scenario and it feels like they ripped it directly out of Tales from Avonlea which was almost rage-inducing to me.
Look, school mergers happened a lot in the early 1900s, especially around the WWI mark, but it wouldn’t be hitting a rural western town just yet. They don’t have any way of getting these kids to other towns for schooling. Where would the next closest school be? It would have to be pretty large and modern to merge multiple schools together.
*Adjusts nerd glasses* This felt forced and completely unnecessary. If anything this guy could be telling Elizabeth that they’re working on building a modern school somewhat close by, and could even have her involved in some decision-making regarding layout. Then they could bring in a “merger” storyline next season without it feeling out of place.
It mostly just felt dramatic for the hell of it, and it was boring, as was this man’s threat that Elizabeth had no right to teach a blind student. As if they’d accept Angela at a better school? As if her parents could afford top tier education for her? PLEASE.
Now it’s time for Nathan. The man chose to go fishing instead of to the parent-teacher conference? It makes him look like a tool. This isn’t about him or about Elizabeth; it’s about Allie. I understand why he didn’t want to go, but he should have done it anyway. It would have taken five minutes of his time. 
His flippant attitude annoyed me because it went completely against his character as we know it, but Elizabeth’s lecturing was irritating, too. For a moment I thought we had Lorigail back on the show...
I think Elizabeth was well within her rights to warn Nathan about the effect his work has on his ward, but that inquiry took like a week AT MOST. Heck, let’s be generous and say TWO WEEKS. Allie’s concentration suffered for two weeks. There was no need to say more than, “Hey she worries about you and her work suffered for a bit during that time frame, just so you’re aware.” 
I think what annoyed me about the math program thing is that...Elizabeth being a teacher would probably be VERY WELL AWARE that MOST of the parents to her students aren’t good enough at schooling to assist their kids with their homework. I dunno, it just feels out of place for her to tell Nathan that she wants to put Allie in an accelerated “program” and that Allie might need his help with her homework. It’s even more out of place when he admits he used to bribe his sister to do his work for him. Like. It’s very possible he’s not that good at math and isn’t capable of helping. (But maybe that will be a plot down the road...?)
“Or a tutor...” BITCH WHERE IS HE GONNA FIND A TUTOR IN THIS TOWN?! It’s super annoying to see dialogue like this that feels completely out of touch with the reality these people would be living in...lol. But also if she needs a tutor to stay caught up in an advanced program, she probably...shouldn’t be in the advanced program.
I don’t know how to feel about this whole thing here: “Nathan, you are Allie’s world. You’re the only father she’s ever known, and as she grows up you will always be the measure of the quality she’ll look for in a man as she chooses who to marry.” 
On one hand, it does fit the situation (he seems to think everything is behind him but Elizabeth’s words are kind of a caution that 1) his actions still have an effect on Allie, and 2) every day he’s teaching her by example). On the other hand, it seems almost wildly inappropriate to bring up? At the same time, it’s probably not wrong that Allie will measure other men (friends, acquaintances, potential future romantic interests) against Nathan’s example.
I dunno. The conversation felt disjointed. 
I think what they were going for was Nathan just feeling too awkward and weird about being with Elizabeth to want to be there for the conference, but...he interacted with her quite normally after the inquiry and stuff (even after she’d broken things off with him), so...it feels out of place. Like maybe this should have taken place right after the breakup and not weeks later?
Anyone else have thoughts on this and why it doesn’t feel quite right?
--
The Dress Shop/Rachel
This plot wasn’t what I would call a waste of time (rather, it’s worth having it mentioned now), but part of it was completely pointless and stupid. The whole Rachel getting lost thing was tacked into the promos to stir up drama, but nothing happened and there was nothing worrisome even going on. YAWN.
Rosemary’s desire to do something meaningful and different with her life is super interesting. I’m very curious to see what they decide to do with her if Dottie does sell the dress shop.
Also, Rosemary finding the book under Rachel’s bed was pretty funny.
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But yeah, I didn’t really find much in this plotline to care deeply about. I guess I am pretty interested in knowing who might be purchasing the dress shop and/or if this decision is to bring someone else onto the show (a female love interest for the man who doesn’t win Elizabeth’s heart in the end, or even to bring back an old character*) or to take the dress shop out of the equation entirely... It’s also just as possible that Rosemary/Lee or Clara/Jesse end up buying it themselves down the line... Thoughts?
*I can’t begin to imagine who would be the best fit for this in this case, though. Who would have the money to buy her out?
--
Postal Service, Ned
Ned is just honestly so cute and fun. I love him. He’s really been doing well this season and seeing him wander around town delivering mail door to door was kind of nice.
Also, he’s one SMOOTH operator! Look at him, talking about putting a bell on the door so that he and Florence won’t be caught off-guard if they’re in the middle of...something. 
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Oh my, Ned. What might customers be...interrupting? :3
Continuity? Not only was the ulcer from last season brought up, but the horrid cabbage juice was, too. :’) It was a nice touch. And these two had just enough screentime to be kind of fun/interesting without also taking up too much time.
--
Bill’s Uniform, Nathan’s Vacation
Nathan got his vacation and Bill is in charge...again. This happens an awful lot. I wonder if it’ll actually impact the next few episodes or if it’s just here for the hell of it.
I love Bill a lot and I want to brag up his character in this episode a bit. I’ve complained many times in the past about him being written like a Grumpy Old Man Yelling at Clouds but this episode was super respectful. He got his scene with his uniform. Nobody interrupted it. There weren’t even any words. I quite liked it.
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But it also felt kind of...pointless? I don’t want to judge it too harshly yet. Like the dress shop plotline, this could actually be going somewhere in the next couple of episodes. 
Plus, unrelated to the uniform, it was nice to see Bill acting fatherly toward Clara. While it sort of came out of nowhere for the wedding, I appreciate the attempt at continuity there. Plus, so far this season, I’ve felt like Bill’s almost been a father-figure to Clara, Fiona, and even Nathan, so I’m enjoying that a lot.
--
Carson and Faith
CONTINUITY? The show finally remembered that not only is Carson actually a surgeon, but that was his original passion. It’s not that they completely forgot (S5 had him performing surgery on his sister-in-law, after all), but giving Carson a PASSION makes him a way more interesting character to me. 
And also, finally, this feels like a REAL high-stakes plotline for him and for Faith.
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I really liked Faith’s take on things. I know, I know, I’ve been rooting at them to break up, but the reason is mostly because they’re just so BORING together. I’d rather watch Henry twirl around in a chair for an hour than suffer through date scenes with these two.
It’s not that I’m against a doctor wife/husband team. I’m not. I just think Faith was a much more interesting and cool character on the show before Carson showed up and usurped her place (and completely overshadowed her for literal seasons). This plotline for Carson might actually be interesting. Like, a fellowship? For modern surgery? IN BALTIMORE?!
I hope this is Faith’s way of saying she wants a break and/or a break would be good for them. I can’t picture her leaving Hope Valley without any trained medical staff, let alone long enough for a fellowship... 
But if this goes through, what will they do with it? Would they really write Carson off the show? To be perfectly honest with y’all, I’d be fine with that. At least it’s the type of write-off that makes a lot of good sense (unlike some of the other ones we got). I guess this is just another “wait and see” plotline which is uhh...the theme of this episode, huh? Anyone have thoughts on this?
--
Henry
Henry barely had any screentime, but I do want to say he is #relateable. The man is back at work for ten seconds and already exhausted. SAME.
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Also, I appreciate that he’s ready to be back in the oil business. At what cost? I know people were worried they were gonna kill him off, and I really doubted it, but now I’m starting to wonder where they’re going with this exactly. Yet another wait and see moment LOL!
--
Elizabeth and Lucas
Some damn fine scenes for Lucas and Elizabeth in this episode. Mostly the scenic ones. :P
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I enjoyed the agreement to a date. The horseback riding stuff was pretty cute. 
Complaint corner? I don’t know. I have petty complaints. Even though the celebration for the kids was a town-wide event, and therefore Lucas was invited, it still felt out of place to see it brought up. Maybe it should have been mentioned as a town celebration from the start?
Then Lucas’s comment about not wanting to make things awkward for Nathan (who is actually a parent and there) makes a liiiittle more sense. I do think it was good of him to not go, even though he wanted to spend more time with Elizabeth, but it gave off a weird vibe, like, “Look at how good and wholesome Lucas is!” Is that intentional? I’m not...sure...?
For what it’s worth I already felt like Lucas was an honorable person in this regard. He loaned Nathan money, after all. Maybe he should have told Elizabeth he views Nathan as a friend and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings unnecessarily and/or if he was there he’d want to hog her all to himself or something cheesy. Hm.
My other complaints are:
Elizabeth running to the saloon would be WAY faster than all this getting set up at her house...?? Who thought this made sense?
Elizabeth’s dress looked like a nightie she bought at Kohls.
Too many damn candles.
Characters Do What Plot Dictates Even Though Plot Makes No Sense. More at 11:00!!
I have no further comments on the dress. It needed sleeves or something so it looked more like a dress and not like a nightgown/piece of lingerie.
I think the candles might have been on purpose to parallel Jack...but I hated it lol. Fire hazard? HAVEN’T ENOUGH THINGS IN TOWN BURNED DOWN/EXPLODED?!
I didn’t hate the date scene! But I never feel like Elizabeth has any meaningful conversations with Lucas and it’s starting to drive me batty. 
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Could we get uhhh something of substance please? It has to be surface-level nonsense on purpose. Right? RIGHT?
(And no, discussing a book for ten seconds on-screen is not “intelligent conversation” okay...?)
It’s really a shame because I’m starting to actually warm up to Lucas a little bit in this season but it feels like the conversations are just...kind of stilted and she’s not really into dating him—just agreeing to it because he’s the only option. 
And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...he deserves better than that. 
Don’t get me wrong, by the way. If it’s part of the story and it’s revealed as such down the road, I’ll be fine with it...but I always worry they’ll just skip important relationship milestones and/or important conversations and expect us all to just accept it.
Kiiiiiind of looking forward to the rainy date scene in the next episode, though. I’m Team Nathan mostly but I’m keeping an open mind and I think I might actually enjoy it. Hopefully they’ll get some good scenes together that don’t feel like this one did.
--
Clara's Dilemma
Clara’s fears about running the salon without Fiona...are legit. LOL.
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Also, this little bit was funny (between Mike and Jesse and Bill):
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Anyway, if Clara was that worried about it, she should have just...told Fiona no? I hope it comes up down the road. Poor Molly??
I genuinely don’t know how I feel about Clara and Jesse’s involvement in this episode. I guess it was okay. I liked Clara’s scenes with Bill. I thought the idea of Clara and Jesse buying into the cafe was a nice one. Jesse having “invested” their money and lost it all, though... They did a similar plot with other people in what...Season 5 was it? Or was that the start of S6? He didn’t even say what he invested it in? But he admits the money is all gone? 
I think that’s what was missing from that scene. “I invested it in X, hoping to make us more money, but it didn’t work out and we lost everything.”
I’m not going to criticize Jesse’s characterization, only because sometimes character "growth” doesn’t happen for the better of anyone involved. My biggest worry here is that it’ll be solved by the end of next episode....but I hope that’s not it.
Like, I think they did better with Frank and Abigail if we’re going to talk about a man who didn’t know how to live like he was in a committed relationship. It made more sense with Frank, too, being older and single most of his life. His bouts of selfishness felt realistic.
Jesse feels like he’s somehow getting worse and worse as a person as the show goes on. I’m kind of at a point where I hope he and Clara divorce, because he’s so damn selfish it’s embarrassing. He’s off having a beer while his wife works multiple jobs? And then he has the audacity to act like they should save money when he just blew all their savings? 
I’m sure it’ll work out fine but I hope Clara puts herself in charge of the finances at the very least.
As to investing failures, I liked how they did that with Henry and Abigail. That was the kind of tension and worry that felt natural to me—like she trusted him with her money after he’d proven himself untrustworthy ten million times throughout the years, and he failed and had to uhh admit that. 
Jesse straight up betrayed Clara. Which, if it’s dealt with in a satisfying way...I think can be a good plotline. I just worry about it actually being dealt with properly. That’s a huge stumbling block in a relationship. And why is he continually getting worse as a person? There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it. 
Gasp... it’s almost like it’s just plot because they feel like they have to give someone something every damn episode.
--
Which brings me to THE FINAL
COMPLAINT CORNER (The Big Boy™ Complaints)
The show has really struggled with finding its footing. I wish they’d take notes from better shows with ensemble casts (cough cough Road to Avonlea cough) without also ripping off their storylines (cough school merges cough).
My #1 complaint at this point in Season 8 is the SHEER AMOUNT OF THINGS GOING ON EVERY EPISODE.
I want continuity, so I want to see things happen naturally over a season, but my God do we not need to have mindless pointless crap in the episode. Rachel getting “lost” for ten seconds wasted literal MINUTES of screen time that would have been MUCH better allocated to basically anyone else in this episode.
And I don’t think it would bother me so much if it wasn’t also shoved into the promo like it was supposed to matter. It didn’t matter. Nobody cares. Why was it allowed to stay in the episode alongside stuff like Clara and Bill’s conversation?
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Or Lucas and Carson’s?
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I think they want to appease all the fans in every episode by giving them scenes of their favorites, but what did Henry sitting in his chair accomplish in this episode? Rachel getting lost? Jack not sleeping well/missing his mom? The school superintendent?
Did Bill trying on his uniform have to be in this episode? Did Jesse and Clara’s problems have to come fully to light right now?
When every episode is formatted like this, with 10 plotlines all interconnected slightly and going on at the same time, I feel like...nobody gets the spotlight they deserve when they deserve it.
I cANNOT believe I’m saying this, but this plotline for Carson, especially if it will end with him leaving the show for a while or permanently should get the focus it deserves. But it won’t if we get tiny snips of it here and there and then BOOM decision made because Reasons.
And again, I know I’ve said before that I want more continuity throughout the season, but... the best way to do that is to tighten up the plots. Have fewer of them per season and give more screentime to the ones you choose to pursue. 
--
Anyway, I’m still enjoying the season, but I hope they keep some of this kind of stuff in mind for next season. They don’t need plotlines for everyone in every episode. They need the plotlines they choose to write to be worth their screentime.
Sorry this was sloppily written and all that. Hopefully it makes sense. Very curious to see y’alls thoughts. Feel free to make your own posts and @ me, or reblog this or comment!
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averagejoesolomon · 3 years
Note
The books (I cant remember which one) talk about how Rachel spent all summer trying to convince Joe to come be her covert opts teacher.... why do you think it took all that time? Do you think they were just talking and catching up- the start of their rekindling a friendship? Or was Joe trying to avoid her? Why was there so much time put into it?
It all comes down to Matt, doesn’t it?
The Gallagher Girls series intrigues me for so many different reasons, but the one thing that has always pulled at me—even as a middle schooler reading the books for the first time—is the character of Matthew Morgan. From the journal, to his legacy, to the trail of hurt he leaves behind, this character absolutely drives the series, which is fascinating, considering the fact that he only has a single line of dialogue in all six books, and even that takes place in a flashback.
Off the top of my head, I can’t think of another series that does this—that rests so firmly on the shoulders of a character that doesn’t technically exist.  Dead parents are everywhere in YA lit, but if memory serves, most exist as emotional drivers, not plot drivers.  It’s really a testament to Ally Carter’s skill that she’s able to build this nonexistent character to the point where audiences understand why everyone in this series is motivated by his death, and this skill is most clearly demonstrated in the masterfully crafted character of Joe Solomon.
Because, let’s be clear: Joe feels wholly and entirely responsible for the death of Matthew Morgan.  This isn’t explicitly stated, since the books are in Cam’s POV, but the sheer strength of implication makes it canon in my mind (and I’m not usually one to let implication define anything in lit, but this is one of the rare and well-deserved exceptions).  Joe’s guilt and anger and ownership is spelled out for us in not so many words—and if you needed more evidence, it’s spelled out even further in the CMH 10-year epilogue.
If Matt never meets Joe, then Matt never learns about the Circle.  And if Matt never loves Joe, then Matt doesn’t hunt down the Circle.  If not for Joe, Matt would still be alive.
More than that, if Matt never met Joe, then Matt would still be with his family—he would still be around to adore his little girl, and to love his wife in that wholehearted way that only he could.  And that is a fact that Joe knows more than anything else, as readers can see during that first Dr. Pepper lecture in LYKY, in which Joe is absolutely merciless.  His whole character motivation is “I will not let Cammie meet the same fate as Matt.  I owe him that much.”
So I think the books talk about his recruitment as taking the whole summer so that we, as readers, will ask this exact question that you’ve put forth, friend: why did it take so long?  What factors would have prevented him from taking the job right away?  The details are, as always, up to interpretation.  I have always believed that, for a while after Matt’s death, Joe was a hard man to get ahold of.  And that when Rachel did get ahold of him (probably totally unannounced in a Moroccan dive bar after one too many drinks and one too many ignored phone calls), he was hesitant beyond belief.  Because if Joe could get Matthew Morgan killed, who’s to say he wouldn’t cause the same in the daughter?
There’s also something to be said for him not being able to look Rachel in the eye, but again—all up to interpretation.
I think this line just serves as another one of those implications.  Another one of those Ally Carter throwaway lines that makes the world impossibly bigger.  The answer to your question isn’t nearly as important as the fact that we ask it, and we realize that Joe is hurting, with good reason, and that somebody has to do something about that—or else we might see WWIII.
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The Aftermath
Written for Klaine Advent 2014 Day 21: Vacation
(Kurt, Blaine, with some minor Elliott; between 5x20 and 6x01; spoilers for season 6; after the scene in the restaurant. I have returned to this time period a few times in my fics, but I forgot I had done this one from Kurt’s point of view. Poor guys, they really put themselves through hell.)
“This wasn’t what I wanted. I just wanted—a vacation from it all. Just—I needed a break from all the fighting. I thought it would take the pressure off. But, God, this is worse.”
Kurt had flung himself through the door of Elliott’s apartment on the Monday the week after the—well, the breakup—at the restaurant.
“Nice to see you, too, Kurt,” Elliott said mildly from his seat by the window, where he was playing his guitar and jotting down the tablature for a new song.
“Sorry.” He collapsed onto the couch and stared up at the cracked plaster of Elliott’s ceiling. “I wanted us to NOT hate each other. But I forgot we have to stay together in the loft another 6 weeks—because he can’t be bothered to ask his parents, who are loaded, by the way, for help finding another place. I’m afraid he’s gonna kill me in my sleep. Or I’ll kill him. You can kill zombies, right?”
“That bad?”
“He won’t speak to me, he won’t look at me, he won’t stay in the same room as me. If I try to speak, he ignores me. He just…just walks past me and out the door. Or behind the curtain. I’m starting to hate that curtain.”
Elliott stood and stretched, sighing deeply. “That actually doesn’t sound as bad as it could be, considering. At least he’s not throwing things.”
Kurt’s frown was sour. “You know Blaine isn’t like that. He’s just—ugh, he wouldn't throw plates; instead, he's throwing all this SUFFERING in my face! Like I’m not grieving too. Like I haven’t lost…” He stopped, exhausted, and returned to contemplating the ceiling.
“You could stay here?”
“Like you need another lost McKinley lamb on your doorstep. But—thanks.”
“So—does that mean he’s still getting out of the house sometimes? Because before Christmas…”
Kurt was grateful that Elliott knew how hard this had been, that he hadn’t been making their problems up in his head. He hadn’t been imagining the weeks last winter when Blaine had struggled to get out of bed, let alone meet the many commitments in his overscheduled life. “Um, I don’t know? He’s still in bed when I leave for class, but usually isn’t when I get back. But past that, with the not talking…”
Elliott pursed his lips in sympathy, then walked past Kurt and into his tiny kitchen. “Well, if he still has his shit together, he’ll decide to find another place. And if not, it’s only 6 weeks. And you know you can always hang here if you need a break.”
Kurt wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, and get in the way of your new romance.”
“Charles isn’t here THAT much. Like, I was going to have dinner alone tonight. I’m planning on making that penne pesto thing. You staying?”               _______________________________________________________________
It was after 9 that night that he let himself into the loft. There were candles on the dining table, a bowl with the remains of a salad, and a lone place setting. As he lingered by the table in the half-light of the loft, puzzled, Blaine came out of the bathroom. “You missed Monday night dinner. You need to talk to Artie.”
“Artie was here?”
“He just left.”
“I stopped by Elliott’s. I forgot.”
But Blaine was already not listening to him. He stepped carefully around Kurt, carried the salad bowl into the kitchen, and put the leftovers in the fridge. After an initial cold glance, he kept his eyes averted as he headed to the space that had become his bedroom.
Kurt wanted to yell, wanted to cry and rage and throw things. He hadn’t expected that things would actually get worse. He hadn’t imagined that they could. But now, in place of the feeling of claustrophobia and the dread and resentment at Blaine’s overwhelming presence, there was this anger, hot and overpowering. “Blaine.” His voice betrayed him, shaking.
Blaine stopped, his hand on the curtain to his sleeping space. He didn’t turn around. “I can’t imagine you have anything to say I want to hear. I can’t look at you right now.”
“What the hell, Blaine.”
A flash of Blaine’s eyes, sharp and hard, over his shoulder was the only response, then the other man pushed through the curtain, murmuring almost unwillingly, “I wish Sam were here.”
“But you had Artie tonight—“
“You need to call him. He brought you cheesecake, the fool.”
Kurt’s legs went liquid with his helplessness as he stared at the closed curtain. He wanted to think that this was new, that he caused this.  But so much of this feeling was so familiar. Yeah, Blaine’s obvious anger was new, but he had been sliding away for months, some days choking Kurt with his neediness, other days withdrawing into this cold-eyed stranger.
He was so tired; as he dropped into his chair at the table, his hand brushed against the silverware. Blaine had tried, alone, to capture the spirit of a Monday night dinner. There was a place card with his name written in Blaine’s distinctive calligraphy, and the candles were ones they had bought together on a good day last month. These tiny sprigs of hope were hard to reconcile with the man who had just dismissed him so thoroughly. Kurt ached at the sight; he laid his head on the table and let himself just shake with his exhaustion and grief.                        _______________________________________________________
So it was a relief of sorts when Blaine the zombie turned into his ghost roommate, a damp towel hanging in the shower, a lone plate and cup on the drainboard the only signs that he had a flatmate. Sometimes he came home to see a faint light behind the curtain and Blaine’s voice murmuring on the phone, but usually he was met with silence. And as often as not, Blaine’s bed was empty.
At school, he occasionally saw the slight dark-haired figure moving down the hallway away from him, but he never caught Blaine’s smiling eye across the dance studio anymore or found him saving him a seat in a lecture hall. Kurt made himself busy, relieved to not be needed so much. He didn't really notice that Blaine’s appearances at NYADA were growing more infrequent. But it was odd for Blaine to skip tests, so when he missed a performance evaluation in the advanced Jazz Dance class they shared, Kurt was puzzled.
When he mentioned it to Elliott on the phone later that day, the older man told him he’d seen Blaine sitting in Riley’s, an old-style coffee shop in Brooklyn near the music store. “He was there all morning, at least. I saw him ducking in the door in that rain shower on my way to open the shop, and when I did a coffee run at 10:30, he was still there.”
“Doing what?”
“Writing, maybe? He had his laptop open. But mostly just staring out the window, I think. He was friendly enough when I stopped to chat. But you know Blaine; he can always rally to put his perfect party manners on.”
“But Jeez, Elliott, he’s going to end up with an F in that class.”
"He's a big boy, Kurt. I'm sure he knows that."                _______________________________________________________________
He knew he should stay out of it, knew it probably wasn’t his place anymore, but for the sake of what they had been to each other, he felt he had to try. So he laid awake until he heard the door of the loft slide open at almost 1 that night, then got out of bed to confront his ex.
“Where were you this morning?”
Blaine stopped in the act of shrugging off his teal windbreaker. “Out. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“You missed your Jazz Dance midterm.”
Blaine gave the tiniest of shrugs and went to move past Kurt. He put out his arm to stop him. “You can’t do this. This is your future, Blaine.”
“Is it? Maybe I just—don’t feel like dancing anymore. Or putting up with that woman’s egotistical bullshit.”
“So you’re just gonna quit?”
Blaine’s laugh was bitter as he shrugged off Kurt’s hand. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want to QUIT on anything.”
“You know what, you miserable lunatic. I don’t know why I worry. You just want to wallow? Fine! But I’ve had just about enough…”
Blaine halted in crossing the room to his sleeping space, and whirled around on Kurt. “Just about enough of what? I’m doing what you want. You wanted SPACE, you’ve got it. In what way am I keeping you from doing what you want? And don’t talk about my FUTURE, when you’ve taken away the only one I ever planned.”
He knew he was crying, angry hot tears, but he ignored them. “It was my future, too.”
“Yeah. Sucks to be you.” Blaine looked as helpless and angry as Kurt felt, and then he was gone, disappearing behind the curtain.                               ___________________________________________________
At first, Kurt didn’t notice any change beyond being relieved that they hadn’t had a confrontation in days. But his schedule was so busy these days--between running from classes to the library for end-of-term papers, then to rehearsals and his late-night diner shifts, and still squeezing in twice a week afternoons uptown at Vogue--that he was only home to shower and change and fall into bed.
But one Friday morning about a week and a half after their “discussion,” he actually had a morning free and planned to luxuriate with some magazines and a homemade latte. But when he opened the fridge, he found that the milk had gone sour. That hadn’t happened since…oh, since Blaine had moved in years ago.  Dumping the milk out, he noticed that there were no dishes in the sink or on the drainboard. He checked the refrigerator again—no little color-coded Tupperware containers with leftovers. His stomach cold, he looked in the bathroom; there was not a trace of dark stubble in the sink and no sign of Blaine’s beloved shaving kit.
Suddenly the loft seemed too quiet. He hesitated before drawing the curtain to Blaine’s sleeping space aside. The bed was made with Rachel’s old comforter, but otherwise the room was empty. No neat racks of polos or crisply pressed chinos, no masculine touches at all. Just an empty packing box on the bed.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Blaine’s number, but it went to voicemail. Where the hell was he? He thought about leaving a message, but what would he say? He dropped the phone on the table and went back into the kitchen to replace the coffee with tea and toast, trying to recall the last time he’d even seen Blaine.
As he pulled out a chair to sit and eat his poor breakfast, an envelope fluttered to the floor at his feet. Blaine, ever particular, had dated the note. It was from 4 days ago, and thankfully wasn’t full of anger and accusation.
“K--- I want to say I’m sorry. But I’m not. I’m just too ANGRY. And too sad. I know what I said in Algeo’s but I’ll probably forgive you someday. But it’s going to take a while. And I’ll forget how much this hurts, how much you’ve. But I don’t ever want to forget how happy I was with you once, how good we can be. I thought we were better, that you’d let me in once you said yes, but I guess neither of us have been able to forgive me for fucking messing up. Just—I hope you never forget how loved you once were. If that even matters to you.
I’m going home. You don’t want me or need me in your places. NYADA. The loft. You finally have it all to yourself and can arrange it however you want, eat when you want, sleep when you want.
You know how my Dad says there’s a poem for every occasion. I thought of lots, some angrier than others, but today this one feels right:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,/Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,/Silence the pianos and with muffled drum/Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead/scribbling in the sky the message “He is Dead,”/Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves./Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,/My working week and my Sunday rest,/My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;/I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,/Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,/Pour away the oceans and sweep up the wood;/For nothing now can ever come to any good.
--Yeah. So there’s that.
I think I got everything, but if you find stuff, could you have it shipped to my parent’s house? There’s a box on Rachel’s bed and an envelope with some cash. Hope that’s not too much trouble.
Take care and, you know, break all the legs.  –B.”
He barely got through it, had to put the paper down in dismay at the first lines of the poem. He scanned to the end and trailed back to Rachel’s bed and found the cash inside the box. He took it out for safekeeping, then collapsed across the bed, holding the letter up and rereading Funeral Blues.
Damn it, Blaine. He wanted to be angry at the other man for manipulating his feelings again, for having the damn last word. But he was a romantic, after all, and it worked. So, maybe this whole mess wasn’t the end of the world, but it sure felt a little like a death too. Blaine had that part right. He thought of last year when all of them, any of them, would be overwhelmed with loss and Finn Finn Finn, and how there were nights when this bed held three or more people trying to shelter from that grief.  
But he was alone now, and this new grief was real, so he let the tears come, and then in this silent, empty apartment he let himself go, howling out his loss and confusion and helplessness. And after a bit, exhausted, he crawled up the bed to rest his head on the pillow that smelt so strongly of Blaine and closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He waited until the tears stopped slowly seeping out; then he sat up, stored the letter and cash in his room, and went to the bathroom to wash his face.
He gazed at himself as he splashed cold water and patted under his swollen eyes, then rummaged for the concealer. He didn’t let himself think, just put himself back together, fixed his hair high, straightened his spine, and walked out the door of the loft to face his day, to find if he could still make a future for himself in this city.
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