#flighty arty

[hibiscuit-rose]

my hand slipped

[amber-angel]

Had a dream that Jim and Artie (the wild wild west) used to be flirty and touchy in the first season, and I think it's a testament to the show that I woke up and completely believed it was real

[bigweldindustries]

introducing my new friend, the elusive stenophylla lobivertex or Peruvian dragon mantis! they are so so tiny and seem to have settled in fairly quickly - I read that this species are fairly flighty but the little one has been remarkably calm the handful of times I had to touch their pot (yes, much like Arty once was they're too small for even my smallest enclosure lol). I forgot how tiny babies are 🥹

[madtomedgar]

if you're still doing genderbends, would you do nie huaisang? there's this idea going around in the fandom that he's gnc, but he actually fills the masculine 'scholar' archetype - i imagine as a woman he would sneak all kinds of things past people who thought of him as even weaker bc sexism

once again @stripedroseandsketchpads is the f!Nie Huaisang tzar.

You are correct, anon, that Nie Huaisang falls squarely into a masculine scholar/artist/useless prince framework, and is not feminine or gender nonconforming. So. f!Nie Huaisang is very arty and very into painting, but also very into flower arranging and embroidery, and has grand ambitions of being the most pampered wife ever. Unfortunately, she has been tragically born into Thee jock family, and is expected to perform the role of girl from powerful cultivation clan (see: Yu Ziyuan). I think she adopts a lot of the like. Incredibly annoying girly whining and like... idk how else to describe it but that thing where women in cdramas act like they're 14 despite being grown adults. The like... sticking the lip out and pouting and throwing themselves on furniture to wail and also being very silly and playful while the men who are the same age act mature, that thing.

I recently learned that it was pretty common for bed slippers to have erotic scenes embroidered on the insides of the shoes, and I think that is her Thing instead of pornographic books.

Nie Huaisang being a woman makes Nie Mingjue's not getting married and also his insistence that she prepare to lead the sect even more bizarre, and I think you have to give him a much larger blindspot/sense of denial about his condition, where he just refuses to acknowledge that he's dying. Maybe he insists clarity can fix him, even though that's not true, and that's part of why Nie Huaisang assumes this was Jin Guangyao's fault. You can also have him kind of... assuming, in a cql timeline, that he can make Meng Yao, his competent and loyal deputy who Nie Huaisang is so fond of, her male consort, and then that is an added layer to his Jin Guangyao derangement, because he almost trusted his baby sister with him! What If! (Nie Huaisang would have lived her best life because Meng Yao is genuinely fond of her and cares about being a Good Husband and also Nie Huaisang wouldn't be taking swings at his head). (It's also Very Good if Jin Guangyao is also a woman jussayin).

f!Nie Huaisang definitely plays up the flighty, whiny, delicate, incompetent Girl thing after her brother dies, and her leaning into sexist stereotypes there is extra fun if xiyao are also women. Yeah. TBH if Xiyao are women and things end like they do in canon I personally kind of need Nie Huaisang to also be a woman because else it just... nasty little man destroys the coolest lesbians in history is not a story I find fun. (Unless Jin Guangyao returns somehow to wreck his shit, then it's fine).

I think f!Nie Huaisang is flirtatious but specifically in order to get things from other people or get out of things, and then as soon as she's got what she wants she is just like "thanks! bye!" I think she's bi, and The Original Pillow Princess. Like. f!Sangyao is literally. Nie Huaisang just lays there and lets/makes Meng Yao do all the work, and then immediately falls asleep once she's gotten off. She doesn't even pull hair! She doesn't even do anything! She's a bit of a voyeur specifically for guys.

Her "dropping the act" Thing is even more jarring than it is in canon, and she is still exactly as sharp and cold, and exactly as lazy.

[onlyswan]

where are we to cast our votes? lool just playing but i can see oc having gemini in their chart too. their energetic nature and vivacious-ness, they’re playful and it keeps jk on his toes. oc can be a little flighty tooo which geminis tend to be 😂 but it’s so adorable 🥰 oc is our fairy princess queen🧚 but also precious emo baby as well🥺 definitely some water in their chart

i really love the excitement around the cutie-est characters you’ve created that we care so much to even speculate on something like oc’s zodiac sign😭 your work truly has touched so many artie (is that the worst nickname in the world? i’m sorry haha🥴) but i just want to say you should be so proud because we are and your time and dedication and passion is felt through the screen each time .. really i’m blown away and just deeply inspired to write myself even if it may not be half as good 😩💗💗

but i just want to say you should be so proud because we are and your time and dedication and passion is felt through the screen each time ..

:( reading this after a hard day at work got me tearing up even though that isn’t this is about haha thank youuuu so much my sweet anonie 😭🫶🏼 sharing parts of my soul with you through my writing makes me want to a better person always <3 and thank you for all the love and interest you have for oc 🥹 it’s truly something i never would’ve dared to imagine. so i encourage you to write if you want to! you’ll never know until you try!

and artieee is cute some anons call me that too 🥹🩵 it’s definitely better than other nicknames i’ve been given haha

[grayintogreen]

14 for Lucien and Arty.

14. ingrained habits forces of habit (Lucien)

Being On at ALL TIMES. Lucien barely ever relaxes enough to drop the act that proves he's Shadycreek Run trash unless he's angry or emotional. He wants to be the picture of eloquence and confidence at all times, so people recognize that he's intelligent and respectable and meant to be taken seriously. Not having high enough charisma to justify his cult of personality means he's getting what he wants through sheer force of intellect and therefore he has to maintain that status of being The Smartest in the Room.

He's, uh... Alexander Hamilton, only somehow worse.

14. ingrained habits forces of habit (Artagan)

BEING FLIGHTY AS FUCK. Artagan cannot sit still, cannot be in a place longer than an hour at the most before he's like okay bye unless it's entertaining for him to stick around for longer and even then the urge to just bop out for a smoothie and come back is STRONG. He's an unaligned archfey, so I imagine that's both a defense mechanism and just a part of his personality. If you keep moving, the Fey Courts aren't gonna sneak up on you and try to slap membership cards in your hand or ask things of you when you don't want them to.

[nerv0usm3chanic]

There is little more warning than a soft chitter when the bat parks himself behind Lucan and begins to groom his hair. - Blondchiroptera

@blondchiroptera

“AH! Wha-?” Lucan nearly jumps before turning to see the familiar creature perched behind him. “Oh, Chuck, it’s you...Ah was worried somethin’ else snuck up behind meh.”

“Uh...Lucan? Who’s that?” Arthur asked, unnerved by the sudden appearance of the bat-like being. Fortunately, Lucan being calm about the sudden appearance helped Arthur to feel some level of ease.

“Oh...uh...Artie, meet Chuck. Chuck, meet mah cousin, Arthur.” Lucan introduced the pair, careful to not disturb the unexpected grooming gestures. “No worries, Artie, he’s a gentle one. Jus’ as flighty as you at times.” He knew to still be delicate about the batty being’s skittish disposition.

[artvrov]

。· . ˙ ☀ ⌈ aron piper + cis male + he/him ⌋ yo , have you meet that POGUE , arturo vallez , yet ? — no ? well , to give you a little heads up before you do , they’re a TWENTY TWO year old , LANDSCAPER , and have been living in coston for TWENTY TWO years . since i’ve known them , they’ve reminded me of MEANINGLESS TATTOOS ETCHED UPON SUN KISSED SKIN , QUIET DINER BREAKFASTS IN COFFEE STAINED BAND TEES , THE THREE BUBBLES TYPING IN REPLY BUT DISAPPEARING JUST AS QUICKLY & LATE NIGHT DRIVES ALONG THE COAST . usually they’re quite LOYAL & RESILIENT but just make sure you keep an eye out for them around town because i heard can be quite IMPULSIVE & GULLIBLE as well so here’s hoping they aren’t the ones to undo this whole peace pact they have going on this summer . but just between you & me , i kinda hope it all falls apart . the rivalry keeps this whole boring town interesting .

SORRY I’M SO LATE !!!!!!! but hello everyone i’m caro and ... y’all i’ve been waiting forever to plot & write here with you !! i binged outer banks so FAST and then when i saw there was an rp based on it :’ ) i knew i had to bring my BIG DUMB BOY, arturo. okay, under the cut you can read up on him/ give this a LIKE and i’ll come bug ya for some plots.

& some 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔

full name: arturo vallez nicknames: art, arty, turo age: twenty two date of birth: march 16th hometown: coston, north carolina preferred pronouns: he/him orientation: pansexual education: high school diploma occupation: landscaper, ( on the side, musician – drummer )

my little drummer boy, arturo – if you’re a pogue you definitely don’t call him by his full name it’s either art, arty or turo.

he is the eldest of three. he has two younger sisters and he is the classic Protective older brother.

his parents talk of their forbidden love -- his mother’s parents never actually approving of his father and to him and his sisters it always sounded so romantic how they eloped and came over to the states from spain. they immediately fell in love with the town of coston, deciding this is where they would settle down and have a family. together they definitely had their struggles figuring out their new life, but his parents gave all they could to ensure he and his sisters had a positive upbringing.

growing up was quite uneventful in the best of ways. had a pretty pleasant childhood. loving parents and a relatively healthy, happy family. he went through the normal awkward puberty phase, endured his share of teenage bullies, struggled his way through history & physics.

while he was always quite close to both of his parents, his father and him bonded over their love of music at quite a young age. arturo grew up knowing not to touch his dad’s vinyl as it was his sacred collection. still the boy would listen at any chance he got. hc arty layin in his livin room floor listenin to all the oldies. the rolling stones stan right here u will hear beast of burden blastin’ from his room

he had his own bond over music with his mother as well. as a young child she taught him basics on the piano – she wasn’t a teacher of any sort, but she taught him all she could until it was time to start taking lessons. piano lessons came first. he really wanted to jump right into guitar tbh, but he got looped into taking piano lessons. when he got to middle school you had to have a certain number of years in piano to take up percussion in his music class and guess who had those years of piano lessons under his belt !!! u guessed it arturo !!! this is where his love of the drums came !!!

this boy has a niche for instruments. it didn’t just stop with the piano and drums. arturo got his guitar lessons, went through a harmonica phase, he’s dabbled with a bass. he can write a melody better than he can write a text. once it comes to lyrics he’s done for – arturo just isn’t very good with words.

his parents always REALLY wanted him to go to uni, honestly but it just hasn’t been in the cards. their fam really couldn’t afford it, and there was no way arturo could afford it no matter how much he’s worked to save up. he’s always really wanted to go into computer science though.

so right now he’s a landscaper -- the company he works for does a lot of jobs in the figure 8 (possible connection that he’s doing work for a kook fam!!) and you’ll also see him doing the odd landscaping job at the coston resort if they ever hire on for bigger jobs.

he’s a drummer in a band (CALLING OTHER MUSICIAN POGUES be in a band with him pls), they really just play at dive bars and stuff nothin’ big

tbh arturo is an irresponsible mess most of the time.

he sleeps through his alarms – literally will wake up late in the afternoon every day, is constantly late to everything. all his closest pals know if u want turo to be On Time you have to tell him to get there at least a half hour before he really needs to be. on many occasions in his adolescence he has been fired from his jobs because of missing shifts/calling out

maybe u could see this coming, but he’s pretty much a night owl. he’ll stay up into the wee hours of the morn dickin around and sleep the day away.

says “oh baby!”, “nah” and “sick” way too much

overall pretty loud and outgoing

is extremely flighty and unreliable when it comes to all things romantic. although it doesn’t FEEL like it to him, he’s actually pretty charming.

wanted connections: ik i mentioned them up in the intro, but any pogue musicians that wanna form a BAND hmu !!! if you’re a kook and you are planning on doing some landscaping lmk because turo is probably on the Job. alright alright, so he really needs the basics ofc like FRIENDS: ride or die, a wingman pls this kid needs all the help he can get, his confidant, a sibling like bond, idk i could literally go on forever with friendship dynamics so pls we can brainstorm together!! CHILDHOOD PALS. ok he needs other computer nerds pls and lol on the other hand like where are the surfers at he needs some friends to surf with, exes on bad terms because lbh arturo probably fucked it up a lot, exes on good terms that are actually friends, hook ups, maybe someone he can write music with because he’s shit a shit lyricist, someone that will talk conspiracies with him, but honestly i would be so excited for literally any connection pls come plot with me !!!!

[hibiscuit-rose]

watching and dreaming timeskip drawings!! i loved all the designs sm

(i always forget what i have and havent uploaded here lol..)

[amber-angel]

And there are SO MANY PUNS that you don't even realize are puns until you know what's going to happen

[helsmarx]

⚜ — hey, is that VANESSA MORGAN? oh no, that’s just HELENA MARX, the 30 year old FEMALE who is a STREET ARTIST, and lives up in QUEENS. i’ve heard they are BISEXUAL, and ARTISTIC + IDEALISTIC, but the bad tongues say SHE can be BELLIGERENT + UNFORGIVING. they are known around new york as the ANARCHIST, but only time will tell if that’s true. paint-stained clothes, blood in her teeth, hangovers. 

> hello everyone, my name is maya and this is my bb helena!  > i have a full bio up for my daughter HERE if you want to know all the juicy deets!  > long story short, helena’s pretty much on her own and making street art and showing her tits at protests > her street artist tag is badcitizen so your character could potentially know her art and not necessarily her which could be hella fun!! 

wanted connections ; 

> any other rebels out there? join her fringe anarchist group and tear down the establishment with her!  > helena does some freelance art work around the city, so if your char would have any need for a graphic designer/illustrator, she can do that! she also teaches art classes to little kiddies so that could potentially be a way our chars meet too > tbh she just needs some friends she is a lonely lonely gorl  > helena is a flighty sort of gal so she probably has a few exes out there who think she dropped off the face of the planet. might be fun to reunite them (and potentially have them FIGHT)  > i always thought of helena as having an arty mentor person out there helping her shape her craft. if you have an arty mentor type PLEASE let me know! > come at me with anything you might be looking for too!! i promise i don’t bite <3 

[spideyxchelle]

Ben Parker adjusted the collar of his shirt for what felt like the hundredth time, and couldn’t help but fidget uncomfortably underneath all of the blinding and intrusive lights. “Is this alright?” he asked.

The documentary crew twittered about all-around him, but the director smiled at him in a way that made Ben feel, at least, a little more relaxed. “You look great, Ben,” she reassured him. “All you gotta do is answer some questions. No big deal, right?”

The eldest Parker child wiped his sweaty hands on his slacks, “Right.”

An over-zealous PA swiped past the director and practically shouted, “All ready, ma’am.”

The director, an up-and-coming documentarist, smiled patiently at the young PA and shot Ben an apologetic smile. He bubbled out an anxious, flighty laugh. If the director noticed how severely disquieted he was, she didn’t say. Instead, she took a seat just to the left of the camera and the whole set quieted.

The slate clicked. And they were rolling.

“So, Ben,” the director soothing prompted him, “Your father has been compared to Spielberg, Hitchcock, Scorsese, and Welles. He is one of the most decorated directors in Hollywood history. He is turning sixty this year. Why do you think has made him such an enduring icon?”

Ben was no longer the thirty-something man sitting in front of prying lights. He was the little boy tucked under his father’s arm and people were falling over themselves for one glimpse, one quick picture with the Peter Parker. And if his mother was around, the attention was a thousand times worse.

He was that boy. And not the man that had worked to talk about anything and everything but his parents.

He had never taken interviews that pertained to his parents. When he was not even ten, his father had sat him down and told him that the world would always care about their family. They were a curiosity. Famous. As an adult, he still didn’t understand what that word meant. And just because they were well-known did not mean that Ben had any obligation to people’s questions. Their family was their family. People that  tried to break it open and have a peak inside weren’t worth a damn.

He had lived his life by those words.

Until HBO decided to make some documentary about his father for his sixtieth birthday.

His father had granted them access to interviews with all of the key players in his career—Aunt Cindy, Uncle Ned, his mother—but his Dad had told HBO outright that his children were not to be interviewed unless they wanted to be.

Artie, who was working toward his tenure at Stanford University, immediately declined.

Will was not so hasty. He was Hollywood-famous adjacent. The shine of twinkle-town didn’t bother him so much. He had never gone to college, much to his parents’ chagrin. When Will turned eighteen, Aunt Cindy had brought him under her wing and he was now working toward his dream of an Oscar nomination for Best Cinematography. Interviews were not his little brother’s bread and butter, but he could manage just fine.

Little May was the only Parker sibling that did not need time to think about HBO’s offer. She said yes without blinking. At twenty-four, the youngest of the Parker brood was directing her second indie film in the fall. About a young director and actress that fall in love.

Ben had been much harder to convince. He wanted to decline. Two out of four Parker siblings was a pretty good turn-out. And yet, when the young director had showed up on his doorstep, she had smiled at him in a way that made his heart leap a little. And now, he was here.

Filming some interview about his father.

Sigrid must have noticed him floundering in front of the camera, because she hushed the whispering crew. She scooted her chair forward until she was just barely out of the frame of the shot. Ben settled his eyes on her. And she did that thing again. She smiled.

“Ben,” she said slowly, gently, “Why don’t you just tell us about your childhood. Start there.”

He exhaled. “I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Sigrid granted.

With her permission, he began to paint a private picture of his home life. “My Dad moved us just north of Los Angeles proper when I was a kid. We lived in Pasadena. In this cute house that had a backyard so my brother Will could have four dogs. One for each of us, he used to say. But we all knew they were his dogs. He and his husband now have a house in Malibu with seven dogs. One for each day of the week, my Dad says.” Ben dryly laughed.

It was strange, sharing such little things about his family. The details were what people had craved his entire life. And now he was sharing them so willingly. Or, well, somewhat willingly. Ben continued, “And it was quiet. My upbringing. We were at home a lot. Or on set.” Ben smiled in that recklessly boyish manner that his father could, “Being on set was the best. When I was twelve, my Dad directed a spin-off Star Wars film. That was the coolest thing for a kid. We have all of these pictures of the four of us in the cockpit of some X-Wing starfighters.”

Sigrid nodded, “Your mother was in that film.”

“My mother was in every single one of my Dad’s films. Not physically, but she’s there. Her spirit. Her words. His movies were, are completely moved by her. Its funny. I can hear her in his movies so clearly. There is this line in Active Forms where the two main characters are fighting, and Lee Grieg’s character rolls her eyes and stops yelling. She sits down lazily and says, Contrary to what you think, Jack, I’m not obsessed with you. I’m just very observant.”

He could feel his smile splitting his cheeks, “That is so my Mom. You have no idea. All of his movies are like one gigantic love letter to her.”

“Even Star Wars?” Sigrid smirked.

“Especially Star Wars,” Ben laughed. And all of the sudden it was him and Sigrid. They were talking about his family as if no cameras were there to capture the words. “There are, like, very few black people in Star Wars. My Mom used to talk about that with Donald Glover. So when he signed that contract, he turned to my Mom and was like I’m putting you in Star Wars. You want a gun or a lightsaber?”

The director nodded, “She picked lightsaber.”

“It was the coolest thing for a twelve year old. Your mother playing a Jedi warrior.”

“Was it hard, too?”

Ben shook his head, “Not then.” Thoughtfully, he added, “They really protected us as kids. It got harder when we were older. They couldn’t decide where we went or what we did or who we were interacting with. They didn’t want to keep us locked up in the house. At home I was Ben. But out in the world I was, I am Michelle and Peter Jones-Parkers’ kid.”

Ben gnawed on his lip, “It was harder for my Dad to deal with that than my Mom. She is really strong. But my Dad would shield us from the world if he could. I’m a grown man and nothing would make him happier than me being at home, safe and sound. All four of us, really.”

He remembered the first time he had been swarmed by paparazzi on the 405 as a teenager. How scared he had been. How furious he had been with the people trailing him with his little sister in the backseat. And he remembered the way his father had looked when they finally pulled into the driveway, safe but shaken.

Ben continued, “Dad loves his job. He hates being famous.” He could almost picture the trailer for the documentary they were making ending with that line. The perfect soundbite. Not because it was juicy, but because it was true.

Sigrid cleared her throat, “Was he around a lot when you were a kid?”

Ben shrugged, “Yes and no. I mean, when we were little my parents had us on every set they worked. But as I got older, I wanted to stay home with my friends. I picked being home over being there with him. And my mother, too. But they were around a lot. And they called us every night before bed. I was nineteen years old and in college and my father was still calling me for family phone-calls.” Ben ducked his head, “We don’t do the family phone-calls anymore. I had other things to do. It seemed, I dunno, less important as I got older—”

Ben brushed his hair back off of his face. Then, he looked directly into the camera, “Excuse me.” He did not wait for permission. He strode out of the room and locked himself inside the small bathroom just beyond his living room where they were filming. He flipped open his phone and called a familiar number. It rang only twice before his father picked up, “Ben, hi.”

“Dad,” he whispered into the phone.

There was a brief breath of silence on one end of the phone, “Ben, is everything okay?”

He nodded, although his father could not see him, “Dad, I love you.”

He heard his father laugh through the line, “I love you, too, Benny.”

“I just wanted you to know, you and Mom gave us really good lives. And I should call more.”

“Ben—”

“And I don’t even know why I stopped those family phone calls. They were the best. I loved hearing about your day. And Mom has the best laugh.”

“Ben—”

“Why did we ever stop those phone calls?”

“Benjamin.” Ben was commanded silent by his father’s sharp tone. “Why don’t you swing by set tomorrow? We can get lunch.”

Ben smiled, an exact mirror of his father’s own grin, “I’d really like that, Dad.”

[addictedgallery]

Get Your Art Fix!

“Let us step into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.” ~ J.K. Rowling

"Let's Go" by Tunku Khalsom, 2021

Series: The Pursuit

Arty-Fact: “There are roughly 700 butterflies in this piece. Each one is hand cut, its edges coloured-in and pinned in one by one at varying heights to create a somewhat three dimensional piece.

“Made with love and Netflix.” ~ Tunku Khalsom

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[themostrandomfandom]

you know how in 2x15 they just show the bedroom scene and then the next time we see britt and santana is in the scene with holly? what do you think the ~in between bits would have been like? has anyone written fic about them?

Hey, @letmerebloginpeace!

Honestly, I could imagine any number of scenarios playing out between those two scenes. Since the bedroom scene seems to take place at night and the library scene with Holly seems to take place during the day (probably sometime the following morning), there are certainly more than a few missing hours to be accounted for. I’ve placed a few possibilities as to what might take place during them after the cut, if you’re interested.

_____

After Brittany makes her quip about breakfast being confusing, Santana softens (because she can never resist it when Brittany is so precious) and agrees to talk to an adult about their situation—but not Mr. Schue because that’d be too weird, and not Ms. Pillsbury because she’s so vanilla that she couldn’t possibly understand their predicament. Brittany suggests Miss Holliday, and Santana consents, though with the stipulation that if anyone starts spouting hippie-dippy shit, she reserves the right to bounce. Though the evening is still young, Santana suddenly claims that she’s really tired, and Brittany takes the hint and goes home. They then spend a very nervous night in separate beds, with Brittany wondering if Santana will even show up at school tomorrow, and Santana wondering what the hell it is she’s just agreed to, feeling like her heart might actually beat out of her chest. In the morning, the girls meet up by their lockers, and even though they both try to act normal, they’re both clearly very nervous; Santana’s voice sounds high and flighty in that way it always does when she’s afraid, and Brittany can’t stop stammering. They seek out Miss Holliday during homeroom, and things proceed from there.

After Brittany makes her quip about breakfast being confusing, Santana quickly changes the subject, making no acknowledgment of what Brittany said about their relationship. The girls spend a few more hours hanging out in Santana’s room, per their usual. However, nothing really feels usual. There is an unspoken anxiety underlying their interactions. Brittany keeps catching Santana staring at her as they watch America’s Next Top Model; Santana notices that Brittany’s body language is off, like she’s not sure if they’re allowed to touch anymore, even when they’re sitting right next to each other. When they part ways for the night, Brittany feels like a door is closing—like Santana has made the choice to keep things the same way that they’ve always been, and all she can do is either accept the status quo or lose Santana forever, with nothing in-between. She goes home and cries into her pillow, and she doesn’t even answer her phone when Artie texts her goodnight. The next day, she is beyond surprised to find Santana waiting for her at her locker. Santana tells Brittany she’s right: They should talk to someone. Maybe Miss Holliday because she’s supposed to be like the sex guru, right? Santana’s trying to seem nonchalant, but Brittany knows better. She’s nervous as hell, doing that anxious thing she does where she ties her hands in knots together. Brittany has to use every ounce of her willpower not to smile too widely at Santana’s suggestion. She agrees: Yes, Miss Holliday would be a good person to talk to. She knows she probably shouldn’t get her hopes up too much, but her heart already feels like it’s going to fly out of her chest because she’s so happy. Maybe Santana is finally ready for things to change between them after all. Things proceed from there.

After Brittany makes her quip about breakfast being confusing, the girls don’t get the chance to say another word before suddenly Artie calls Brittany, reminding her that she was supposed to be at his house a half-hour ago. Brittany doesn’t really want to leave Santana’s house with the conversation unfinished, but the moment is already broken anyway. Santana’s saying something now about how she’s going to booty call Sam—even though Brittany knows she isn’t—and she’s tossing Brittany her pants, reminding her (somewhat meanly) that she shouldn’t keep Artie waiting. There’s that defensive tone in her voice and an invisible barrier between them. Brittany knows that even if she stays, the conversation is over; Santana won’t want to talk anymore, not about their relationship anyway. So Brittany goes to Artie’s, not sure if she and Santana will ever get back to the subject of their relationship again. Little does she know, but once she leaves Santana’s house, Santana spends the rest of the night pacing her room, considering just how miserable she feels whenever Brittany is with Artie, realizing that she doesn’t want things to keep going on this way, wondering if maybe Brittany is right—if maybe with feelings, things could be better. To Brittany’s great surprise, Santana texts her the next morning to say she wants to give her a ride to school. The second Brittany gets into Santana’s car, Santana blurts out, “I want to talk to Miss Holliday—about what you said—about us I mean.” She looks straight ahead out the windshield, like she’s afraid that if she meets Brittany’s eyes, something bad might happen. Brittany can tell that Santana’s resolve is fragile, so she tries not to spook her too much. She nods. “Okay.” They drive to school in silence and go immediately to the library, where Miss Holliday spends her first period. Things proceed from there.

As for fic, while I’ve certainly read fics that cover the canon events of episode 2x15, I can’t really think of any that go into great detail concerning those particular missing hours. 

If anyone has any recs, please do list them in the replies.

Thanks for the question!       

[pixiealtaira]

Angel Baby

Drabbles and Drawbles for Advent 2016 prompt 10: Christmas Angel

Kurt-centric more slice of life type tale. not terribly sweet to many glee characters, but not really hostile

The Angel’s head was porcelain, with rusty colored haired that curled around her shoulders. She was an honest to goodness doll, with a body and legs, not just a tree topper, and the wire form that topped her onto the tree worked exactly like the doll stand she also came with and could be removed. She wore a long white dress that was covered in silver and gold stars, embroidered on it in metallic threads, but instead of being a Victorian type dress it was more of a regency era style dress with an empire waist with long straight sleeves with a small puff at the top of them. Her wings were large and white, covered in soft feathers and silver and gold glitter.  

Kurt’s mom told him that originally she held a harp, but when Kurt was born, his mother removed the harp and had a baby porcelain doll created.  It had a halo of light brown curls and wasn’t a tiny baby, but more of one about 7 or 8 months of age. His head rested on the angel’s shoulder and the angel held him close.  He was dressed in a white satin suit that looked like something the blue boy in the one painting his mom showed him wore. It too had silver and gold trim and the baby wore tiny little white leather shoes with silver buckles.

Kurt told his mom that according to his books even boy babies wore dresses back then, but his mom just laughed and told him she wanted the fact that the baby was a boy to be noticeable.   The Christmas before his mom got ill, Kurt told her that he thought the Angel looked like her.  His mom just smiled and laughed and kissed him on the head.

It was the last thing they placed on the tree and when they removed it after Christmas the angel went back onto her doll stand and into the china cabinet.

The morning after his mom died, the angel was gone, as was half the other contents of the china cabinet…like the violin and the wire Easter basket and the heart crystal and the little wooden nativity and the glass rose that sat on top of a set of concert tickets.  His dad bought them a star for the top of the tree the year after she died. Kurt nicked an angel from a nativity at school and tied a string to her halo and hung her in his closet that year so his dad wouldn’t know or see, but it was no where like his Angel.

The second Christmas after his dad married Carole, Kurt came home from school to find a box on his bed.

It had been…a day. That was about all Kurt could say about it.  Artie had written the show…or rather taken credit for it after making Kurt tell him all about the old classic TV shows he’d watched when little, since Artie had never seen one, actually.  He wasn’t fond of the character he’d had to play, but Artie insisted that one of them had to be ‘flighty and shallow’ and that Blaine would be a better option for the manly partner who indulged his flighty partner. Kurt argued that they didn’t need that type of character but Artie insisted they had to play to what the audience would like and Artie was sure his vision was it. And since Artie was given the charge of it all, Artie’s way would be what was seen.  Then there was the conversations he heard about Christmas gifts.  The box with the gum wrapper ring was sitting on Kurt’s bedside. That was all Blaine had given him.  He’d given Rachel a new animal sweater he saw while out shopping and Brittany, Quinn, Tina and Santana glove, hat, and scarf sets. He got all the girls gift certificates for a spa day. He got all the guys in glee gloves and key chains and gift cards for the movie theater.  He got Sam and Finn video games they had been wanting, to make up for his behavior earlier in the year.

And he gave Kurt a ring made out of gum wrappers.  Kurt had given him bowties and socks to match, a sweater and a bunch of old records of bands Blaine had been trying to find that Kurt had finally located at the antique store in Findley.  Blaine said that they had said they weren’t giving gifts, but he couldn’t not give Kurt something so he made Kurt the ring.  The speech was sweet, but even during it Kurt wanted to laugh because he knew Blaine simply couldn’t meet those promises; he’d already shown that over and over and had just two minutes before canceled plans with Kurt to go hang with the Dalton boys. Then he couldn’t answer the question about when Kurt was supposedly to have said this when Kurt asked. (Because they never did say it, they never discussed it at all. It was never said when Blaine gave Kurt his wish list or asked what Kurt would like. It never happened.)

And Kurt shrugged it off. Maybe Blaine didn’t have much of his own money and didn’t want to ask his parents for some, or maybe he just got gift for family and not others. But then Kurt had heard the discussions about gifts and knew Blaine gave just fine…to everyone else.

So the mysterious box on his bed was a welcome distraction when Kurt got home.  

Kurt opened it, lift the flaps to reveal the items tucked inside. On the top were several certificates and awards that Kurt had won when he was little.  He removed them to find things from the china cabinet and other places around the house where things had disappeared from those first few days after his mom had died. He found several baby blankets and a baby coat with a Paddington bear in the exact matching coat resting on it.  There were the Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy dolls and a real  tambourine that had multi colored ribbons attached to it.  He uncovered the wire Easter basket…and the violin in its case. The rose and the tickets were tucked in a tin with the crystal heart. At the bottom of the box were two smaller boxes. Both were white.  The smaller of the two, when opened, revealed the wooden nativity. Kurt’s hands trembled as he pulled out the other box.

The angel rested in the box. The doll stand and tree attachment were wrapped and nestled in a portioned section to the side of the box, along with a pair of white silver buckled baby shoes. In a small open box was the harp that used to be in the angel’s hands and a tin pair of wings that seemed to be able to be placed upon the baby in the angel’s arms.  The doll was resting on a bed of Satin.  Kurt lifted the Angel out and realized the satin wasn’t just cloth.  He lifted the satin out and discovered a tiny satin button-up shirt and tiny satin short pants.  Long white stockings, well ones that would be long on a baby, since they were baby stockings, rested under the outfit.  There was a small cap that looked like a newsboy cap, but made of white satin by the stocking.

Under it all was a photo.

His mother was dressed in a white dress with an empire waist holding Kurt, dressed in the satin outfit in the box.  Written on the back of the photo was ‘modeling for Ember – Kurt 6 months’. Also was a signed certificate with information about the doll and the changes made after Kurt was born…including the fact his mom had been the model for the angel doll in the first place.

Kurt tucked everything back into the box and was nearly ready to tape it shut again.  However Kurt couldn’t bring himself to do so.  He unpacked it all again and removed the box with the nativity and the box that held the angel.   He already knew that it could not be placed on their tree. Carole and Finn didn’t even have a star on top.  They had one of those bulby glass spire things and when Kurt went to put up the star last year, he was informed that it wasn’t going up, their topper was.  It was a nonnegotiable thing.  His dad backed them…Kurt had got his garland across the fireplace mantle and the fireplace and chimney cleaned so they could use it and the ability to light a candle in HIS window for 20 minutes a night, even though he could not do so in any of the regular house windows.

But…That didn’t mean she had to be put far away.  Kurt looked over to his bookshelf and smiled.  On the top…there was room.  And no one ever really looked up…no one ever really looked around.  Kurt put the nativity out on the eye level shelf, setting it up like they did when he was small, with the wise men and the camels working their way towards the star stand (the nativity didn’t have a stable, it had a stand that was topped with a large shooting star) and Mary and Joseph and the baby under the star and the angels…because his had several…over by the shepherds and sheep and dogs.  Then he took out the doll stand and unwrapped it.  He took out the Angel and put the stand on her.  He was about to put her up on top the shelf but stopped.  He took out the wings for the baby and placed them onto the baby.  He stroked the baby’s face and then the angel’s face.  He set her on top of the shelf, settled so she watched over his bed. From the center of the room you could hardly see her, but from the bed Kurt could see her well.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to share his Angel.  Not with Carole and Finn.  Maybe Sam would appreciate her, but even with the shared experience of having a parent die, Finn still teased Kurt over the things he did to stay close to his mom (Kurt was not allowed to tease back…he never was).  He knew Blaine wouldn’t get it either.

Someday, maybe, he’d have someone to share it with. Someone who would be able to appreciate it. Someone who would understand wanting to be watched over by pure love.