#rhi/sly

[tuiyla]

Do you ever think about Rumour Has It/Someone Like You being Glee’s highest charting mashup

because I do

[gleesongtournament]

no but the way Rumor Has It/Someone Like You swept every other fucking round with no competition and then the second it goes up against one of if not THEE most popular Blaine solo in the show and starts to lag behind by a whopping 1% my inbox gets filled with anons claiming that the whole thing is rigged and me and all my followers hate women alskjflkdsfjs PLEASE even the Sebastian stans let go of Smooth Criminal more gracefully than this!!!!

also i appreciate all the asks i woke up to that were talking about this just to laugh at the ridiculousness, but i cannot talk about it anymore after this lol im not strong enough </3

[unholybinchicken]

your favourite glee mashup is now your pronouns

[porcelainvino]

ik it’s over but ngl i kinda wanna draw more glee song tournament knight au…

[randomcanbian]

.

[angelhummel]

I think, Angel my beloved that if you put Cough Syrup v As if we never said goodbye that I will collapse into a puddle and never recover. 😫

hehehehe we will just have to see what happens won't we 😈😈

but really the most likely chance for them being paired against one another is if they're the final two songs in the entire tournament and i dont see that happening lol so i think you'll be spared </3

[snixx]

that poll person being a brittana/brittany hater just makes me want the mashup to win more

ksjfhsjdhfjh they're actually pretty cool but also the reason i had to block the #anti brittana tag years ago lmao. we have super different opinions minus being huge santana/rachel stans hdhjfghkjfh

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 17

Hi, guys. Enjoy the new chapter :)

It is therefore only natural that the more powerful the dragon, the more powerful the signet its rider manifests. One should beware of a strong rider who bonds a smaller dragon, but even warier of the unbonded cadet, who will stop at nothing to seize a chance to bond.

—Major Afendra’s Guide to the Riders Quadrant

(Unauthorized Edition)

After sleeping in the crowded barracks for the last two months, it’s weird, and oddly decadent, to have my own room. I’ll never take the luxury of privacy for granted again.

I close my door behind me as I step into the hallway.

Violet’s door is to the right of mine and I see her limping towards me.

“Hi, there rider.” I greet her with a smile. “How is your leg?”

“Hi, Aelin.” She smiles back. “It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Good morning, neighbours.” I feel an arm around my shoulder.

“Hi, Liam.” I look up at him. His room is the one left of mine, and Ethan’s next to him. We are the only first-years who survived Threshing in our squad.

“Hi.” I hear Vi whispers and I can see a small blush? on her face.

Oh, my god. I love it!

“Are you okay, Vi? You’re face is a little red.” I say with a sly smile.

“Yes.” She glares at me and turns around when Rhiannon’s door, across the small hall from us, opens and we see Sawyer’s tall, lean frame come out. He runs his fingers through his hair, and when he sees us, his eyebrows rise and he freezes—his cheeks almost as red as his freckles.

“Good morning.” I grin.

“Guys.” He forces an awkward smile and walks off, headed toward the main hallway of the first-year dormitory.

Rhiannon walks out of her room and smiles as soon as she sees us. “No more breakfast duty?” She turns to Violet.

“I was told last night that all the less desirable duties were being handed off to the unbonded so our energy can be redirected for flight lessons.”

„One more reason for the unbonded to hate us,” Rhiannon mutters.

“It doesn’t matter. I think our dragons existence are already pisses them off.” I shrug.

„So, Sawyer, huh, Rhi?” Vi asks as we start down our hallway, passing a few other rooms before meeting up with the main corridor that leads to the rotunda. Have to say, the first-year rooms aren’t as spacious as the second-years’, but at least we all got ones with windows.

A grin curves her lips. “I felt like celebrating.” She darts a quick side-eye at her. “And why have I not heard of you celebrating?”

We melt into the crowd moving toward the gathering hall. “Haven’t found anyone I want to celebrate with.”

“Really? Because I heard that you and a certain squad leader had a moment last night.”

She nearly stumbles over her feet.

“Come on, Vi. The entire quadrant was out there, and you don’t think someone saw you?” I roll my eyes.

„Who gives a shit if it’s frowned upon to be in a relationship with a superior officer? There’s no regulation, and it’s not like any of us is guaranteed to live through the day.” Rhiannon says.

“Solid points,” she admit. “But it’s…” she shakes her head, searching for the right words. “It’s not like that with us. I’d always hoped it would be, but when he kissed me—there was nothing there. Like. Nothing.”

“Well, that’s shitty to hear.” She hooks her arm through hers. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” She sighs.

“I’m not.” I glance at them. “I never liked him. And he doesn’t support you, Vi. You deserve someone who sees you. Because you’re awesome.” I squeeze Vi’s hand.

“Thanks, I think.” She smiles at me with gratitude.

„Good morning, ladies. And Liam.” Ridoc forces his way through the crowd and slings an arm around Rhiannon and Vi’s shoulders as we enter the rotunda. “Or should I say, riders?”

“I like the sound of riders,” Rhiannon replies, shooting a smile in his direction.

“It has a certain ring to it,” Ridoc agrees.

“It’s definitely better than dead. Where’s your relic?” Vi asks Ridoc as we pass through the columns of carved dragons and take the steps into commons.

“Right here.” His arm falls off her shoulders, and he shoves the sleeve of his tunic up to reveal the brown mark of a dragon silhouette on his upper arm. “You?”

“Can’t see it. It’s on my back.”

“That will keep you safer if you’re ever separated from that massive dragon of yours.” His eyes dance. “I swear, I thought I was going to shit myself when I saw him on the field. What about yours, Rhi?”

“Somewhere you’ll never see,” she responds.

“You wound me.” He slaps his hand over his heart.

“I highly doubt that,” she retorts, but there’s a smile on her face.

“And you Aelin? If it’s somewhere private than I’d like to volunteer to check it out. Just you, and me.” He winks at me.

“Nice try.” I laugh at him. “But I’ll pass.”

“Are you waiting for someone else?” Liam whispers in my ear.

“Shut up.” I elbow him in the ribs while I feel myself flush.

Before anyone can ask another question we move through commons and into the gathering hall, then make our way through the line for breakfast.

“Asshole,” Ridoc mutters in front of  me. “I still can’t believe they tried to kill you.” He says to Violet.

“Who?” I ask and look toward the counter. There’s a man behind it and he glares at Violet with hatred in his eyes. “Oh wow. What did you do to him?”

“I beat him during the challanges.” Vi turns to me. „And before Threshing he said that I better watch my back.”

“Hm. He really holds a grudge.” I say while we collect our breakfast. „But don’t worry, now you’re a rider with a badass dragon. Still… I can’t believe he’s this petty.”

„I’m the weakest link, right? Unfortunately for me, that means people are bound to try and take me out for the good of the wing.” Vi says.

“You’re not!” I say firmly.

We head toward the Fourth Wing section and find a table with extra seats.

“Mind if we—” Ridoc starts.

“Absolutely! It’s yours!” A couple of guys from Tail Section scurry off the bench.

“Sorry, Sorrengail!” the other says over his shoulder as they find another table, leaving this one empty.

What the hell?

“Well, that was really fucking weird.” I say as Rhiannon rounds the other side of the table, and I follow, putting our backs to the wall as we step over the bench and sit, setting our trays in front of us.

“Even weirder?” Liam remarks, gesturing across the hall toward First Wing.

Following his line of sight, my eyebrows lift. Jack Barlowe is being squeezed out of his table. He’s forced to stand as others take his seat.

“What the hell is going on?” Rhiannon bites into a pear and chews.

Jack moves to another table—whose occupants won’t make room for him—and then finds a place two tables down.

“How the mighty have fallen, Ridoc notes, watching the same show I am, but there’s no satisfaction in watching Jack struggle. Feral dogs bite harder when they’re cornered.

“Hey, Sorrengail,” the stocky girl from First Wing says with a tight smile as she walks past our table.

“Hi.” She wave awkwardly as she walks away, then turn to whisper to us. “She hasn’t spoken to me since I took one of her daggers in that challenge.”

“It’s because you bonded Tairn.” Imogen blows her pink hair out of her face and throws her leg over the bench across from us to sit, pushing up the sleeves of her tunic and revealing her rebellion relic. “The morning after Threshing is always a clusterfuck. Power balance shifts, and you, little Sorrengail, are now about to be the most powerful rider in the quadrant. Anyone with common sense is going to be scared of you.”

I blink, is that what’s going on? I look around the hall and take note. Social groups have split up, and some of the cadets I would have considered threats are no longer sitting where they usually do.

“Which is why you’re now sitting with us?” Rhiannon arches a brow at the second-year. “Because I can count on one hand the number of nice words you’ve said to any of us.” She holds up a fist with zero fingers raised.

Quinn—the tall second-year—takes a seat next to Imogen, and Sawyer arrives, sitting on Rhiannon’s other side. Quinn tucks her blond curls behind her ears and brushes her bangs out of her eyes, her round cheeks rising as she smiles at something Imogen says. Have to admit, the hooped piercings that line the shells of both her ears are pretty awesome, and among her half dozen patches, it’s the dark-green one—the same color as her eyes—with two silhouettes that’s most intriguing. I should have studied up on what all the patches mean, but according to what I’ve heard, they change every year.

I’m personally a fan of the first ones we’ve been given. I had to sew the tail-shaped patch with the emblem for Fourth Wing and the centered number two with great care, being sure to only stitch the fabric of my corseted armor, since it’s not like any needle is going to penetrate the scales.

„You weren’t interesting enough to sit with before,” Imogen responds, then bites into a muffin.

“I usually sit with my girlfriend in Claw Section. Besides, no use getting to know you when most of you die,” Quinn adds, tucking her curls away again, just to have them spring forward. “No offense.”

“None taken?” Vi says.

Then Heaton and Emery, the only third-years in their squad, flank Imogen and Quinn on the bench across from us.

“Wow. Is it a squad meeting?” I ask while munching on an apple. “Liam, I think we stand out too much.”

“You’re right. Why don’t you sit with your own squad?” Imogen asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Because they like us more than you. Even though you are their squadmate.” I smile at her coldly. “We have every right to be here. If you have a problem with it then the challanges we’ll start over soon.”

She swallows and looks at her plate.

“Is it just me or is anyone else surprised that Barlowe bonded?” Ridoc questions. “Though from what I’ve heard, his Orange Scorpiontail is on the smaller side.”

“She is,” Quinn confirms. “Which is why he’s struggling this morning.”

“Don’t worry—I’m sure he’ll make up for his lack of social standing in other ways,” Rhiannon mutters, her gaze narrowing. “You have to have some protein, Vi. You can’t just survive on fruit.”

“It’s the only food I can be sure isn’t tampered with, especially with that guy behind the counter.” she peels an orange.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Imogen scrapes three pieces of sausage onto her plate. “She’s right. You’re going to need all your strength to ride, especially with a dragon as big as Tairn.”

I stare at the sausage. Imogen hates her just as much as me. Hell, she’s the one who broke her arm and ripped out her shoulder on assessment day.

“You can trust her,” Aon says, and I startle, almost dropping the apple.

“She hates us.”

“But she has changed.” He says and I can feel him pulling back.

No other explanation? Fine.

Vi starts to eat, and I focus on the conversation at the table again.

“What’s your signet?” Rhiannon asks Emery.

Air rushes down the table, rattling the glasses. Air manipulation. Got it.

“That’s epic.” Ridoc’s eyes widen. “How much air can you move?”

“None of your business.” He barely spares him a glance.

“Sorrengail, after class is out today, you’re mine,” Imogen says.

“I’m sorry?” She asks in surprise.

Her pale green eyes lock on her. “Meet me in the sparring gym.”

“I’m already working with her on sparring—” Rhiannon starts.

“Good. We can’t afford her to lose any challenges,” Imogen retorts. “But I’m going to help you with weights. We need to strengthen the muscles around your joints before challenges resume. That’s the only way you’ll survive.”

The hairs rise on the back of my neck. “And since when do you care about her survival?” This isn’t a squad thing. It can’t be. Not when she didn’t give a shit before.

“Since now,” she says, gripping her fork in her fist, but it’s the lightning-fast glance toward the dais at the end of the hall that gives her away. Her concern isn’t coming from the goodness of her heart. Something tells me it’s an order. “Squads are about to be condensed at morning formation. We’ll be down to two in every section,” she continues. “Aetos kept the highest number of his first-years alive—hence the patch—so he’ll be allowed to retain his squad, but we’ll probably gain a few when they strip the squads from those who weren’t as successful.” She glances at Liam and I.

As discreetly as I can, I look to my right, past the other Fourth Wing tables and to the dais where Xaden sits with his executive officer and the section leaders, including Garrick, whose shoulders look like they should take up at least two seats. It’s Garrick who looks my way first, his forehead lining with… What is that? Worry? Then he looks away. The only reason he’d be remotely worried—he knows something.

Imogen helping Violet. Violet bonded to Tairn. Ohh shit.

“Aon? Is Tairn and Sgaeyl are mates?”

“Yes. They have a bond.” He answers.

“Then Violet and Xaden are somehow connected too?” I have my suspicions.

“Yes. They have a bond through their dragons.” He answers. “But it’s not an emotional one, little one.” He adds silently.

Then it means Garrick knows Violet’s fate is tethered to Xaden’s.

My gaze snaps to Xaden, and my chest tightens. So. Freaking. Beautiful. Apparently my body doesn’t care that he’s as dangerous as they come in the quadrant, because heat rushes through my veins, flushing my skin.

He’s using a dagger to peel an apple, removing the rind in one long curl, and the blade continues its path as his eyes lift, locking with mine.

My whole head tingles.

Gods, is there any part of my body that doesn’t physically react to the sight of him?

He glances toward Imogen and back to me, and that’s all it takes for me to know for certain. He’s ordered her to help train Violet. Xaden Riorson is now in the business of keeping his mortal enemy alive.

…

A few hours later, after the squads are rearranged and the death roll is read, all the first-year riders in Fourth Wing stand in our newly issued flight leathers, waiting in front of our dragons on the flight field.

We were the smallest squad, it was logical to disband us. I don’t know why, but fortunately Liam, Ethan and I was assigned to Fourth Wing, Flame Section, Second squad. It’s Violet’s squad. Our squad’s second- and third-years went into the same squad too. I don’t complain. I’m glad that we’re still together. So now it’s our first flight lesson as a member of a new squad.

The uniform is thicker than our usual one, with a full jacket I’ve buttoned over my dragon-scale armor. And unlike our regular uniforms, whatever we choose them to be, flight leathers bear no insignia besides our rank at our shoulder and any leadership designation. No names. No patches. Nothing that could give us away if we’re separated from our dragons behind enemy lines. Just a lot of sheaths for weapons.

I try not to think about possibly fighting in the war effort one day and focus on the organized chaos evolving on the flight field this morning. I can’t miss the way the other cadets look at Tairn or the wide berth the other dragons give him. Honestly, if I had those teeth bared at me, I’d back away, too.

„No you wouldn’t, because you didn’t. You stayed and defended your friend.” Aon’s voice fills my head as he stands next to Tairn, and I can tell from his tone there are places he’d rather be.

“Only because there was a lot going on at the moment,” I respond.

“I don’t think so. Now pay attention!” He ends the discussion.

I roll my eyes but focus on what Kaori is saying from the center of the field. His hand is up, using common lesser magic to project his voice so we can all hear.

God help us when Ridoc figures out how to do that. I bite back a smile, knowing he’ll find some way to annoy the shit out of every rider in the quadrant, not just his squad.

“…and at only ninety-two riders, you are our smallest class to date.”

My shoulders dip. “I thought a hundred and one were willing to bond, plus you and Tairn?”

“Willing doesn’t mean they found worthy riders,” Aon answers. “You’re worthy. At least I think you are, but you apparently don’t pay attention in class.” He chuffs and a warm puff of steam blasts the back of my neck.

“There are forty-one unbonded riders who would kill to be standing where you are,” Kaori continues. “And your dragons know that your bond is at its weakest point right now, so if you fall, if you fail, there’s a good chance your dragon might let you if it thinks the unbonded will be a better choice.”

“Comforting,” I mutter.

Aon makes a noise that reminds me of a scoff.

“Now, we’re going to mount, then follow a series of specific maneuvers your dragons already know. Your orders are simple today. Stay in your seat,” Kaori finishes. Then he turns and breaks into a sprint, racing the dozen feet toward his dragon’s foreleg and making the vertical climb to mount.

Just like the last obstacle on the Gauntlet.

I sprint up the same way and I navigate Aon’s spikes to find the seat. My tighs ache a little from yesterday, but it’s bearable. I grip the pommel. Okay, I’m ready.

Kaori’s dragon launches into the sky.

“Hold tight.”

I feel as Aon crouches a millisecond before he hurls us skyward. The wind tears at my eyes as my stomach falls away, and I risk holding on with one hand to lower my flight goggles. Immediate relief.

“We had to go third?” I ask Aon as we fly out of the canyon and higher into the mountain range. I get it now, why I didn’t see the dragons training often even though I’ve basically grown up at Basgiath. The only people around us are other riders.

“I only agreed to follow Smachd because his rider is your instructor. Tairn should be the first.”

“So you’re an in-front kind of guy. Good to know. Remind me to spend some time at temple so I can make multiple appeals to Dunne.” I keep my focus on Kaori, watching for when the maneuvers will start.

“The goddess of strength and war?” Aon clearly scoffs this time.

“What, dragons don’t think we need the gods on our side?” Shit, it’s cold up here. My gloved hands tighten on the pommel.

“Dragons pay no heed to your puny gods.”

Kaori banks right, and Aon follows suit, leading us into a steep dive down the face of one of the peaks. I clench with my legs to remain in the seat.

We go into another climb and even a near-spiral of a turn, and I can’t help but notice that he’s taking everything Kaori is doing and making it harder. The same as Tairn.

“Why did you make it harder?” I ask. “It’s our first flight lesson, I don’t want to fall off.”

“You won’t. I chose you, now trust me. Unless you’d rather be scraped off the glacier below like Gleann’s rider back there?”

I whip my head around to look, but all I see is Aon’s tail swinging, his massive spikes blocking the view.

“Don’t look.”

“We already lost a rider?” My throat knots.

“Gleann chose poorly. He never bonds strongly anyway.”

At least I can hold my seat. It’s not that bad.

As soon as I think this, I see Violet as he falls off from Tairn.

“Violet!” I shout without thinking.

“Don’t worry. Tairn will catch her.” Aon says.

“What? But I thought the dragons never catch the newly bonded riders.”

Then I see Tairn’s claws catch her. He climbs high, then tosses her again, his back rises to meet her falling bottom. I sigh with relief as she takes her seat. She’s safe.

“Worry about yourself, little one. You have a lot to learn. Leave your friend to Tairn.”

I try to concentrate, but I can’t help and notice as Violet falls again.

And again.

And again.

Shit. We have to figure something out.

[songbirdlopez]

Santana Lopez is lazy. At least, according to herself in New Directions (5x13) "I'm too lazy to do eight shows a week". Now I have many issues with this episode and the entire understudy plot, but that isn't what I want to expand on here. I just want to talk about this one line.

Warning, this is a very long post.

Where on Earth did the writers get that idea? I can see Santana genuinely believing that about herself since her self esteem isn't always the greatest, but Rachel never corrects her. Santana says she is lazy, and that's it. She's lazy. But wait a minute, are we talking about the same Santana here?

Let me bring up the obvious. The cheerios. I don't think it's possible to be lazy and be a cheerleader under the leadership of Sue Sylvester (unless you're Becky, I guess). Santana was a cheerio for all of season 1 and 3, half of season 2 (only because without her, Quinn, and Brittany the cheerios weren't good enough to win), and presumably all of her freshman year. That's three and a half years of gruelling training and death-defying stunts. And for her senior year she is co-captain, so taking on extra responsibilities.

Also cheerios related, in Diva 4x13 Sue offers Santana a job as the cheerios coach. Despite knowing how tough Sue is she says yes. Later when speaking to Britt she says that she'll take over fully when Sue dies and she's gonna make sure that happens within a few years (presumably a joke but who knows what would've happened).

Then there's the New Directions. Santana is in the glee club for three (almost) straight years. We don't often see much more than lessons being introduced and then singing, but it's established in season 1 that they do vocal warm ups/training. There's also booty camp which runs late season 2 and all season 3. After she gets (unfairly imo) kicked out in The Purple Piano Project (3x01), she agrees to join Booty Camp to come back to ND. In universe she is one of the better dancers, so this is just a punishment that she accepts, she wants to be in the glee club and will do extra work for it. There's also practising for their competition numbers (even if it's the day of). In season 1 she helps come up with some choreography. Santana often has solo parts and was one of only a few members to get a full solo where she doesn't just park and bark (obvi Britt and Mike were the featured dancers but Santana has her own choreo). Santana is also one of only four characters who audition for a solo for nationals in Funeral (2x21), and she's one of only two who have some sort of choreography.

Continuing on with glee clubs, the Troubletones. Santana joined TT to get more focus. We saw TT discussions and dance practise, and we know that Shelby did vocal coaching that was better than Will's (Mercedes: "Shelby's a great teacher, I'm hitting notes I didn't even know existed.") Santana also pushed through a majorly distressing event (outing) to perform and used that pain to lift the performance (RHI/SLY).

School musicals. Santana has roles in three different school musicals. The only one she doesn't participate in is Cabaret, but that is just a sham to get Rach away from the New Directions. In season two she plays two different characters in Rocky Horror, she's double cast as Magenta (a supporting character) with Quinn, and she plays the lips (this is a mistake on the show's part, the lips are Riff Raff's actor in the movie, but on stage this song is performed by a character named Trixie the Usherette who does a reprise of the song at the end). In West Side Story she plays Anita. Finally in Grease she plays Rizzo, it's worth noting that she gets the role with very little notice and still (from what little we see) nails it.

Jobs. Throughout highschool Santana doesn't seem to have any part time employment, but that's the case for most characters. While she's at Louisville she doesn't need to get a job since she got a scholarship and a bunch of money from her mom. I mentioned previously that she almost got a job as cheerios coach. Once she moves to New York in season 4 she works a shit ton of jobs, like a ridiculous amount. She's a bouncer, a cage dancer, she works at the Coyote Ugly Saloon Bar, she's a waitress, a reoccurring actor for Yeast-I-Stat, Fanny Brice understudy, Rachel's publicist, back up singer (and maybe dancer?) for Mercedes which includes touring with her, and she is an active member of Pamela Lansbury before she and Rachel are kicked out.

Even ignoring the jobs that were just word of mouth, she had five jobs, that's more than any other character in the show, and we unfortunately never find out what she ends up doing.

In season 4 after a push from her friends she takes on NYADA extension classes.

Also relevant, in season 4 she drops out of college. This isn't because she's "too lazy", it's because of the environment. She didn't gel with her fellow students, there's no mention of the work being too much, it's purely that the other cheerleaders don't respond well to her. Her "brutal honesty" or whatever, still not a reflection of her work ethic, just her lack of tact (to put it lightly). Also worth mentioning, the two times we see her at Louisville she is clearly working hard. She can't talk to Britt because she's too busy, and in the scene where that Virginia Wolfe girl eyes her up she's in the library studying. In Jagged Little Tapestry (6x03) Santana tells Brittany that she would like to go back to college, unfortunately we never see if this comes to fruition.

Volunteering. Santana is also the character who volunteers the most. In Silly Love Songs (2x12) she says that she often volunteers at the hospital which is where she got the candy striper outfit. Two episode earlier in A Very Glee Christmas (2x10) the glee girls are going to sell their hair, Santana is the one to tell the others to "stop yapping" and just do it and is just a about to cut off her hair when Will stops them, so clearly she was willing to do it. The next Christmas Santana joins Sam and Quinn at the homeless shelter with the other New Directions after the tv special (kinda goes against her prior eagerness to help out, but makes sense since fame is her mistress). In Lights Out (4x20) she joins Rachel and Kurt volunteering at the Ballet Gala. Admittedly here it's takes a push and she only goes after being offered dresses.

Mentoring. From season four the ND alumni often come back to mentor the newbies or just to help out in general. Santana comes back in Glease (4x06), Thanksgiving (4x08), Diva (4x13), All or Nothing (4x21), 100/New Directions (5x12, 5x13), Homecoming (6x02), and Jagged Little Tapestry (6x03). (I'm not including The Breakup or The Quarterback because she came back for emotional reasons.)

Knowing all of this about her shows how hardworking and passionate Santana is. She is constantly working at something. She has her down time (watching Facts of Life, scrolling Rizzoli & Isles lesbian subtext blogs), but that seems few and far between when knowing just how much she works. It can also be inferred that she is a good student at WMHS, seeing as she got the scholarship to Louisville and they probably wouldn't accept her on just cheerleading merit alone, and she is seen multiple times with her books open, studying. (Pot O' Gold and Saturday Night Glee-ver come to mind). We also know that she cares about her education because she reported Will for being a sub par teacher in The Spanish Teacher (3x12).

Along with everything I just mentioned, Santana also takes it upon herself to do side quests when she wants something. She is so determined to prove that Quinn and Finn are having an affair that she gives herself mono (she's immune apparently, but still). She also goes full spy to take down Sebastian, and to take down Brody. With everything else she does and the effort she puts into random situations to do with her friends she must be goddamn exhausted.

Something I must bring up is related to her being Rachel's understudy. But first another disclaimer: I don't want this post to become a discussion on who was in the right in the situation, both women did bad things, that is not what this post is about. I only bring it up because it is the plot where this line is said, therefore some parts a relevant.

Santana only gets the idea to audition for the understudy role as Rachel leaves to go judge the auditions. We do not know exactly how much time passes in between but it's presumably only a few hours at most. This means that Santana had to memorise the song, change the key and structure by herself, and choreograph the number in a few hours. That shows dedication. Later on in The Back-Up Plan (5x18) Santana goes on in place of Rachel to try and save her friends job. Again she has very little time to prepare to play the role as the show is that night, and hasn't been the understudy for approximately a good few months. We don't see her perform but Rach herself says she was really good. It's unfortunate that we never see Santana get any opportunities come from this, but it's Glee so I digress.

In conclusion (I feel like I'm back in highschool lol), Santana Lopez has many flaws and there are many valid reasons to criticise her, her work ethic is not one. Santana is shown to be an extremely hard working and dedicated character who aims high and will put in the work to get what she wants, she won't let other people get in her way. She can be her own worst enemy and can get into a slump when she can't see a direction to go in, but she always pushes through. I think it's cowardly that the show not only decided that she was the sole offender of the Understudy Situation, but also shunted her with a negative descriptor that is in complete opposition to what we know of her. Despite also saying cruel things during the understudy plot line Rachel gets away with not apologising, and then lets Santana insult herself. It's an unfortunate result and complete character assassination for Santana and shows how little the writers care for her. It also destroys the friendship that Pezberry developed up until that point. Santana is not the only character to be described in a negative way even when the rest of the show doesn't represent that, Mercedes Jones gets this treatment even worse and more often. I do have a discussion about her in my drafts, hopefully I'll finish it one day. It sucks that two of the most versatile and skilled characters in Glee are constantly said to not be enough.

Santana Lopez is not lazy.

[spaceorphan18]

Not to discredit Darren, but I think Naya during RHI/SLY gave the best acting during a musical performance on Glee.

I'm going to respectfully disagree, Nonny <3

I think Naya was brilliant during RHI/SLY. She plays Santana with a lot of emotion behind the song. There's vulnerability and hurt and anger wrapped up in it. She also has those quick looks too and away from Brittany that are loaded with emotion. It is a very deeply moving and good performance.

It's also a flawless performance.

Some of it is because it's a group number, some of it's because they aren't singing live, some of it's because Glee just didn't like giving less than perfect performances no matter what the situation but Santana doesn't just come apart in the complex and nuanced way Blaine does.

(Which is not a reflection on Naya's ability - but more so about how the scenes were allowed to be shot, and says more about direction and Glee holding back. Also, fwiw I kind of think Songbird and maybe to a lesser extent Mine are better Naya acting moments, though I will maintain that that's my opinion.)

Teenage Dream is just something else. It's an utter mess. And no, I don't think slobbering your way through a song is 'good acting' but it's the way he does it. (I do think it helps that Darren was allowed to do it live - because that gave it the ability to be a fluid song, unlike the pre-recorded ones that have to maintain some kind of rigidness to line up.) The entire song he's trying to keep his composure and utterly fails, getting worse and worse as he goes. It's raw and unhinged and his voice is shaking and scared and he stumbles through the whole thing. The whole time he's trying to maintain that charm that he original had and can't ever get there. Eventually, he speeds it up just to get it over with, choking on bits of lyrics that hurt more than anything else. He looks at Kurt and can't look at Kurt and goes completely inward by the end of it. It's just a remarkably well done scene.

It is not a good performance, and it's not supposed to be. It is, however, good story telling as there's a ton of subtext throughout it.

I promise, I am in no way undermining Naya or her talent but I don't think (anyone really) was given the freedom that Darren got being able to do it live, which is why I do think it's one of the rawest and most honest performances of the show. You're more than welcome to disagree and feel differently. And I do think there are definitely times when I think Naya showed better acting chops than Darren.

But Teenage Dream Acoustic is a masterclass in using a performance to tell the story. I'm always gutted when I see it.

[seradyn]

A Dream Come True (Chp. 11)

Finally, after 6 months

Chapter 11/35: A Daring Dance For Two

Date time with our daemon man. Get ready for long conversations and some backstory for our reader 😌

Extra long to make up for the back to back hiatuses >.<

Link to work Masterlist

Word Count: 11,052

TW: Childhood trauma

Tags: @savage-rhi @blossom-adventures @ticklemycucumber

Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in updates

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The library looked dark, decrepit when it was closed. There was no light coming from the overhead windows, no welcoming gust of warm air to greet you. Closing was one of your least favorite parts of the job, but it was a necessity. You tugged on the front door’s handles experimentally and, of course, the lock held without much effort. Satisfied, you dropped the keys into your bag, turning your back to the old, withered building.

You shivered into your coat, the kiss of winter’s breath turning the tip of your nose red. The temperature was only continuing to drop, much to your dismay. The frosty wind sunk deeply into your clothes, cutting through them like jelly. The pinpricks on your skin had you rushing to find warmth someplace else.

“Ah, there she is. And here I thought you’d keep me waiting.”

You paused, smiling at the teasing voice. You’d almost forgotten. Turning, you found the owner a short distance away.

Ardyn was leaning against one of the great pillars holding up the awning, head tilted down and arms crossed, one leg laced over the other. You could see he still wore that smug, sly expression, directed at the ground with lidded eyes, as if it had been bold enough to comment on the soles of his boots.

You shook your head at him. “I’m sorry,” you said, wondering how long he’d been standing there. “They don’t like to let me off easy.”

He looked up then, his calculating, omnipotent eyes drinking in your form. They, too, held that smirk just as well as his lips.

“I only jest,” he reassured. He pushed off from the pillar, beckoning you after him with a wave of his hand. “Come, my dear. I’ve parked just around the corner.”

You fell into step at his side, a brisk pace to keep up with his longer strides. You stole a breath of the sweet tinge of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and cinnamon. You wondered how much it cost; probably more than your biweekly paycheck.

“So, where are we going?” You asked, keeping up as he took a sharp left down the block, passing the startled faces of the sparse citizenry, who gave a wide berth in their chancellor’s wake.

“Ah, ah,” Ardyn tutted. “That would spoil the surprise.”

“Oh, a surprise?” You asked in wonder, smiling at the thought. You were already curious about what he had in store for you, but now you were even more so.

Ardyn returned your excitement with a grin of his own. “I think you’ll find it quite to your liking.”

“Is that so?” You said playfully, throwing him one of your own smirks.

“Consider it a guarantee,” he purred, grinning in a way that told you his confidence was not merely for show. He took the lead as you came up on a row of neatly parked cars at the end of the street.

You had to swallow a giggle when you saw which car he gravitated to, swinging open the passenger door for you. It certainly suited its owner, just as ardent as he was. A convertible colored dark maroon, much like Ardyn’s hair, with a white race stripe down the middle. A moogle pom pom had been stuck on the antenna, making the vehicle look almost comically whimsical. The top was down, revealing wine colored upholstery to match the paint job.

“Your chariot, my dear,” he hummed as you approached his car.

“Ever the gentleman,” you replied, settling into the red leather seat, the door slamming closed behind you. You paused, closing your eyes in a deep, silent sigh while his scent swallowed you whole, taking you captive with near overwhelming sweetness. Another wave of it washed over you as Ardyn took his place in the driver's seat, the engine humming to life not long after. Soon, you’d merged into traffic, and the library disappeared into the rear view mirror.

A comfortable silence filled the car, the wind whipping through your hair as you were enraptured by the sights that passed you by in a blur, one of restless crowds and neon signs. Each one an invitation, a trap laid simply, only willing to release those from their clutches whose purses had been emptied. You hadn’t the gil to entertain those desires, so you hadn’t seen much of Gralea’s famed nightlife, save for the trip you’d recently taken in its shadows. Even that had been different; most of it had died down by then. Now, you had a chance to experience it in its purest form, with someone who was undoubtedly versed in its culture. It almost felt like going to another country.

Meanwhile, Ardyn was humming away beside you, carefree as he drove you to his ‘surprise’. You smiled even wider when you recognized it as the song associated with the bright yellow birds you adored. You hadn’t taken Ardyn as a chocobo person, but the thought had you biting your tongue to stop yourself from giggling. This was the man you were afraid of not three days ago?

Perhaps there was hope for you yet.

Soon enough, it seemed Ardyn got bored of silence, and decided to fill it with his own voice instead.

“So, tell me,” He began, the words beckoning your attention away from the view. “How long have you been looking after Gralea’s biggest library?”

“Oh, only a few years,” you said, surprised by his interest. “Got recruited right out of college, and I’ve been there since. This’ll be my fourth year working there.”

“Truly? It seems I’ve been missing out, locked in my ivory tower. Tragic, really.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, looking back out the lowered window so he couldn’t see you blushing. “I’m sure I’m no better than the last one. Besides, we can’t change the past,” you said honestly. “There’s no use in worrying about it.”

“Indeed we can’t,” Ardyn said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We are simply forced to live with the consequences.”

You looked back at him after hearing the last word, the creeping darkness that had seeped into it just below the surface. The corner of his mouth twitched, his smile becoming strained as his grip around the wheel tightened. Though it wasn’t long before he remembered to compose himself, those brief emotions tucked away, for now.

Even though he didn’t say it, you knew you’d struck some kind of nerve. A stab of guilt creeped into your heart; you hadn’t meant to upset him. Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, he interrupted you, smirking as the car slowed.

“Ah, here we are,” Ardyn murmured, pulling his car in front of a building that stretched far into the sky. Deciding to let the previous exchange go, you gazed up at it as the engine died, wondering how many floors there were. A million, you thought in hyperbole, unclasping your seatbelt as Ardyn departed from his vehicle. Before you could even reach for the handle, he was there, opening the door for you and holding out his hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you said as you placed your hand in his, his fingers curling delicately around your own. He gracefully pulled you onto the sidewalk, looking down at you with fond, half lidded eyes, your door falling closed behind you with a thud.

“Of course, my dearest,” he cooed, releasing your hand and offering up his arm in its place. You looked between him and it for a moment, before you snickered at his gentlemanly nature. You wrapped your hands around his strong forearm, and he began to lead you towards the looming skyscraper.

Between you and said building, a sizable crowd was loitering, the atmosphere filled with an energetic buzz that was almost suffocating. The street was awash with their laughter and conversations, made more boisterous as some teased drunkenness, booze flowing freely from somewhere unseen.

Not your type of people, if you were being honest, but usually you weren’t one to let such things bother you.

Usually.

It was as you got closer you realized how much different you were to these people. Not just in mannerism; it was obvious in something as simple as your state of dress. You weren’t someone who was big on expensive designer products, but even you could name some of the brands their garments oozed. Not only that, but there seemed to be only two options among them when it came to outfits; freshly pressed suits, or flowing, iridescent gowns. There was no in between, not a hint of anything casual to be found.

And you’d just come from work. You were in street clothes.

Being led towards the gathering by the imperial chancellor no less.

Your arrival hasn’t gone unnoticed, either. It didn’t surprise you that the chancellor’s presence was one to turn heads, but that fact was slightly more mortifying when you were practically hanging off him. Your eyes flicked from face to face, watching the raised eyebrows, the bewildered stares when they saw Ardyn’s company, no doubt questioning his choice of companionship. You wondered how truely low their opinion was of you, when they didn’t even have to pause their conversations to pass silent judgment.

You huddled closer to Ardyn, trying to find some semblance of comfort in his presence, even while he seemed none the wiser to their scrutiny.

“Are you…sure this is okay?” You asked meekly, staring out at the high class gathering around you. You wondered if it would tarnish his reputation, being seen with someone so much lower than him, even if he didn’t believe that himself. Surely word would get out he’d been seen with someone like you.

Ardyn, whom you would’ve considered observant before, seemed completely oblivious to the weird looks the two of you were getting. He rather appeared quite jovial, smirking at nothing in particular, like he’d been welcomed with a standing ovation.

“Hmm?” He hummed happily, an eyebrow going up at your question. “Is there a problem, my dear?”

“N-no, it’s just - ” you looked at the ground in shame, fearing your woe sounded juvenile. Your social anxiety was bad enough with Ardyn alone, but in crowds, being the center of attention made you want to jump out of your own skin. You just hoped you weren’t embarrassing him. “I’m not exactly…well dressed for the occasion.”

Ardyn hummed again, looking out at the gathering as if just now noticing them. Something darkened his features, sinister and wicked, as he continued to smile while locking eyes with the boldest of the bunch. A silent challenge for them to dare question whose company he chose to share.

The nobles all quickly looked away, smart enough to fear the chancellor’s wrath.

“Should there be any…complaints,” his lips curled even higher, making him almost look malicious. “I shall deal with them personally.”

You had no idea what he meant by that, but you heard the seriousness in his voice. He wasn’t bluffing. Knowing he was willing to stand up for you, you eased out a tense breath, nodding in thanks.

The people standing close to the glass double doors scurried away as you reached the building, Ardyn opening them so you could both enter. Your muscles relaxed when you were finally out from under the noble’s unabashed prying eyes.

Which didn’t last long, unfortunately. The inside wasn’t much different from the outside. A dark restaurant laid out before you, undoubtedly where the outside patrons had gotten their drinks. Standing tables littered the room, there wasn’t a chair in sight. It reminded you of the cocktail parties you’d seen on TV.

You’d never actually been to one of those.

The bar was taking up the entirety of the left wall. Bottles of all different colors and shapes decorated it, the glass reflecting the orange glow of the dim ceiling lamps. They were completely swamped by the looks of it, there weren’t any open stools. To make it worse for the staff, the people in here matched the ones outside; dressed nicely, and making enough noise to drown out the decades-old music that was playing overhead. You watched the wait staff as they darted around skillfully, only stopping to place drinks or small plates of food down before whisking away to the next table.

You hoped they got good tips.

You figured this restaurant was the reason Ardyn brought you here, but he didn’t even flinch as he led you past it all, heading for an elevator in the very back you hadn’t seen before. Without a word, he pressed the ‘up’ button, grinning at the slight look of confusion on your face.

The elevator slid open with a cheerful ding, and Ardyn ushered you on. It was empty, much to your relief, meaning you wouldn’t be pressed up against him. He pushed a button for a high floor, something in the 60’s, ascending as soon as the door closed again.

Awkward silences were becoming a common thing between the two of you, and the slow, jazzy elevator music only made it worse. Your fingers instinctively flexed around Ardyn’s arm, your breathing sounded deafening in your ears as anxiety began to spin its web around your heart. You should’ve been excited, but what had transpired outside left a sour taste in your mouth, and you couldn’t help feeling you didn’t belong. You could only imagine the place Ardyn was taking you had the same kind of clientele, their judgeful eyes seeing you as an easy target. An entire meal feeling like an insect under a microscope sounded miserable.

Something brushed over the top of your knuckles, pulling you back to reality. Looking down, you watched as Ardyn rested his free hand atop your own, giving your fingers a light squeeze of reassurance.

“You needn’t be so nervous,” he said quietly. Soothingly. “You’ve nothing to prove to me.”

You were silent for a moment, the gentleness in his voice pulling your gaze upward. He was smiling at you. Softly, sweetly…like he cared.

“All I ask is that you be yourself.”

Heh. Yourself.

When was the last time you were yourself?

Not since you were little, you realized. And what a sad thought that was.

Did you even know who you really were anymore?

Not really. It had been beaten out of you long ago. Your parents used it as an excuse to abuse you, your friends an excuse to exclude you. You’d decided it was better to keep it under lock and key, keep it hidden and guarded. Even someone as close to you as Satus could only say he saw part of it. It’d been years, but those wounds were still red and swollen.

In its place, you became an expert at crafting masks. If one friend group wanted you to act one way, you could, and another for a different group. If your parents expected you to be their pauper princess, then you could be so, to an extent. If your best friend said something you didn’t agree with, you found it hard to voice a dispute.

The poisonous flower of rejection had festered for years, building a cage of weaving roots around what you might call yourself.

And some part of you didn’t think you were wholly undeserving of those lashes.

You blinked, the memories causing your eyes to go misty. You swallowed the lump in your throat, wondering how long you’d been struggling with Ardyn’s statement. He was still waiting. Patiently, his gentle smile never left his face as he waited for an answer. His tolerance was surprising.

Perhaps…Ardyn was different. Maybe his request didn’t come with concealed expectations.

That was enough to give you a sliver of hope.

“…Okay,” you said, meeting his eyes. “I’ll…try.”

Arden nodded approvingly, giving your hand another squeeze. “That’s all I can ask.”

The rest of the elevator ride was in silence, both of you watching the glowing red numbers above the door count up.

While you hoped you weren’t getting too ahead of yourself…

The elevator dinged again, announcing that you'd arrived, the numbers now reading 64. The doors slid open, Ardyn stepping out with you as soon as they finished.

It was much brighter up here, which you appreciated. Ornate chandeliers dangled from a high ceiling, reflecting off the marble tiles and glass windows. The center of the room had been cut away, allowing you to see down into the lower floors between bars of railing. As you got closer to the edge, you could make out people scurrying around like little worker bees.

Your destination appeared to be along the far wall though, if the long line of people was any indication. Indeed, Ardyn leisurely steered you in that direction, allowing you to take in your surroundings. It was another dimly lit restaurant by the looks of it, although you couldn’t see far inside through the crowd. You just hoped you’d have some illusion of privacy while you dined.

Ardyn breezed past the line, which surprised you at first, before you remembered exactly who you were with. No one would dare make the imperial chancellor wait in a line, of all things. Commoner as you were, it felt quite strange to you, wrong somehow, but you knew it wasn’t your place to say anything. Best to just follow in Ardyn’s lead.

At the threshold, you were finally able to spot a sign displaying the restaurant’s name. When you read it, a small gasp parted your lips.

La Compañera. One of the best, and most expensive restaurants in all of Gralea. Their reservation list was full months in advance, from what you’d heard, and their meals could cost you a week's worth of work. The kind of place everyone knew of, talked about, but few could say they’d ever been. You’d given up on going there yourself, not on a librarian’s salary at least.

This was where Ardyn meant to take you?

You looked up at him with wondrous eyes. He, on the other hand, looked more smug than you’d ever seen him, like the whole of Eos was his to command. He had every right to be, too. It was no wonder he was so confident you’d like his choice for the evening.

“You should learn not to doubt me, dearest,” he said, basking in your amazement. He was enjoying your reaction a great deal.

“I thought you could only get in with a reservation,” you breathed, looking around with astonishment. The place was positively buzzing, a chorus of forks hitting plates and too many conversations to count. As you neared the hostess stand, you could even see a part of the kitchen off to your left, and you were able to hear the sizzling of meat, of pasta turning in a frothy boil. Delicious smelling vapors wafting from its steel appliances, making your mouth water in anticipation.

“Indeed,” Ardyn said cheerfully. “Though you’ll find few are bold enough to enforce such rules in my presence.”

You hummed at that, not doubting it, but wondering how that was going to work out. The restaurant only had so many tables, and if they were all full, him being chancellor wouldn’t mean much.

Your questions were soon answered, as you both stood before the hostess. She was dressed in a suit; white button up with black khakis, hair tied back as she scribbled down the names of arriving parties. You both waited for a moment, you assumed for her to acknowledge you, but instead another woman stepped before you, wearing the same uniform.

“Chancellor Izunia!” She chirped, smiling brightly at him. “It is an honor to serve His Excellency, as always.” She bowed low and deep, hand held daintily over her heart.

“The honor is all mine, Charlette,” Ardyn preened. With a flourishing wave of his hand, he gave his own short bow, which you were quick to copy. Although not before you shot him a questioning look; he knew their names?

“I was hoping to make use of our little arrangement,” he went on, straightening. “I could think of no better place, especially since I am want to entertain a special guest.”

He smirked down at you out of the corner of his eye. You looked away, trying to hide the creeping crimson that invaded your features.

“Of course, Chancellor,” the woman - Charlette - said. Reaching around her coworker, she grabbed two menus from the stand before making her way back into the depths of the restaurant, expecting you to follow. She led you through a wide eating area, dotted with tables dressed in white linens, flickering candles set in the center of each one. The place was huge, and you lost count of how many twists and turns it took to finally reach your table. It wasn’t just any either, tucked into a secluded corner, the angle perfect to keep prying eyes out. The wall it was pushed up against was made entirely of glass, allowing a grand, near endless view of the sprawling metropolis below. Your breath caught in your throat, admiring the sea of speckled lights, like stars swimming in benevolent waters.

You weren’t given much time to admire it though, Ardyn slipping from your grasp to take his seat, forcing you to do the same. The seats were heavy - expensive, you corrected - the wood polished and dark as you settled into it. Your hostess turned waitress placed the menus in front of you, and with a quick flick of her wrist, the candles sprung to life with gentle orange flames. She tucked her lighter into a pocket as she set another small sheet of paper down, the drink menu, you assumed. With that, she was gone, disappearing into the throng of suited staff and pampered guests.

While you unfurled the neatly folded napkin and laid it across your lap, you eyed the silverware dubiously. It seemed each set came with two of each utensil, though a glance at Ardyn’s side of the table told you that was intentional. One bigger, and more square, the other dainty and curved. You may have pondered them longer, had your stomach not given a gentle roll, reminding you you hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

“If you’ll indulge me…” Ardyn said softly, beckoning your eyes upward. He sat with his chin resting on laced fingers, like he was making a decision of utmost importance. “It would be criminal to not let you sample some of their finest Cabernet Sauvignon. A rare find these days; the grapes are grown in Lucis.” Ardyn smirked, leaning back in his chair to lounge as if it were a throne.

You concealed your confusion as best you could. You had no idea what he just said, but he mentioned grapes, so you figured it was wine of some sort.

You’d hoped to avoid this, but you knew it was inevitable. Unfortunately, you’d never really come on to alcohol like most people. In fact, you hated the stuff, grimaced every time its foul taste met your lips. While your peers had been off making fake IDs and clubbing, you were sipping milk teas and reading books on the couch. Thinking back on it, it was really no wonder you weren’t invited to parties.

Of course, you couldn’t tell Ardyn that. It was silly, childish. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself by revealing you couldn’t handle your liquor. As much as it pained you to almost immediately break your promise to him, you couldn’t find the strength to be honest.

Instead, you smiled, meeting his honied eyes. “I’d be delighted,” you said sweetly.

Ardyn’s smirk grew at that. “Splendid. I’ll have them fetch us a bottle when they return.”

“Sounds good,” you said, eyeing the menu. Food seemed much more appealing at the moment. Your stomach gurgled its agreement.

The menu wasn’t big. That was a mark of its quality though, each dish more extravagant than the last. You only recognized a handful of them, but for those you did, you knew they were ones that required a careful hand, and hours of prep work. Things most people didn’t dare trying to make at home, lest they spend all day laboring over a ruined meal.

You’d been worried the place would be too high class to have anything you’d like, picky eater as you were, but it seemed you were in luck. One of their specials was something you’d had before, and it was one of your favorites. Your mother made it when your older sister got her doctorate. The dish had taken the entire day to prepare, but when you all sat down and took a bite, it was more than worth it. You hadn’t had it since then, and the thought of tasting it again brought a small smile to your face. The memory of its flavor ghosted across your tongue excitedly.

Having made your choice, and noticing Ardyn was still nose deep in one of the menus, you gazed out at the dining area, admiring the decor. The place was certainly designed with your scenario in mind, and you could see why. The place was dark, hushed, allowing a sense of seclusion for its diners. Candles and dim lights gave it a cozy feel, helped by the warmth of a fire crackling in a brick fireplace as its centerpiece. The restaurant’s popularity was clear; not a single table was left yearning for guests. Even the bar, which you’d passed on the way to your seat, had someone perched on each stool.

“Oh, I forgot to ask,” you said suddenly. “How did you manage to get this table? I know you’re the chancellor and all, but the place is always fully booked from what I’ve heard.”

Ardyn lowered his menu, meeting your eyes while chuckling lightly. “Oh, it is, though we have come to a certain agreement. I’ve prevailed upon our dear Emperor to accept his catering only from specific establishments. You’ll find not even the smallest of His Radiance’s galas are absent of such luxuries. In exchange, they’ve agreed to always save a table in my name, should I ever choose to stop by. A…mutually beneficial relationship.”

You paused to stare at him for a moment, his words digesting, before you couldn’t stop a light laugh from tickling up your throat. He was even cagier than you’d thought.

“Clever,” you complimented. It seemed he had the whole of Gralea wrapped around his fingers.

Ardyn positively beamed. “I have my moments.”

You both shared a laugh at that. Quite the understatement, you both knew.

As your snickers began to die down, your waitress returned, cradling a fancy, vase-like bottle filled with clear water, dropping it off as she asked for your orders. Ardyn got his special wine you couldn’t pronounce, along with one of the meals you didn’t recognize, and Charlette complimented his choice with a forced sweetness. It made you cringe a little, seeing her lick his boots as much as possible before she asked what you wanted. Such was one of the downsides of being with someone so high in Niflheim’s pecking order.

Once she was gone, you turned back to each other, Ardyn smiling brightly at your attention. It was so boyishly innocent, you couldn’t help returning it, even when you felt heat creeping up your neck. Oh, he was cute.

“I’d like to get to know you better, if you’ll humor me,” he said, leaning back in his seat, sinking into its cushions, his eyes partially lidded.

You nodded your approval; it was customary on first dates after all. You just hoped he’d give you a chance to do the same, though you had a feeling he probably couldn’t be as open as you’d like. Few could say they knew much about the chancellor, and you figured there was a reason for that. He’d be a tough nut to crack, but you had a deep desire to find out more about him.

Parallels between Real Ardyn and Dream Ardyn aside…

“You said you attended university before starting your career,” he began. “What did you study under their tutelage?”

“Public relations,” your answer was automatic. The question had been asked countless times while you were a student, after all. “I also minored in ancient Lucian, but I’m a little rusty these days.”

It was true, you’d once been semi-fluent. The language had caught your attention after you’d learned of your ancestry. While your blood was mostly a mix of Niff and Tenebraen, a drop of Lucian ran through your veins. Bred out through generations, your ancestors had once owned land there. When you’d found out, you liked the idea of connecting with that part of yourself, and, for once, your parents agreed. Dead language though it was, many books from those days lived on, allowing people to study it as they pleased. Your own skills had atrophied though, having no one else to speak with, and little time to practice on your own. Sadly, more of it slipped through your fingers each day, but you could still hold a basic conversation.

Ardyn’s eyes practically sparkled at that. “Ancient Lucian?” He said slowly, wonder lacing his tone. “Now that is something you don’t hear very often.”

“It’s a pretty language,” you said, smiling with pride at how impressed he seemed. “It’s so different from our modern tongue, I loved seeing how much we’ve changed.”

Ardyn nodded. “I must say, I’m surprised. Few have the patience to learn it.”

“Yeah, my classes were pretty small. And it doesn’t translate into the modern word very well. Plus all the symbols…”

“A challenge I’m sure you more than excelled at facing. You’ll have to demonstrate for me sometime,” Ardyn chortled. “I’ve yet to meet anyone able to master it.”

“‘Master’ is a strong word,” you chuckled. “I haven’t been able to practice much now that I've graduated, but I’d like to get better at it again.”

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” he smirked. “I have known it for many, many years.”

Your eyes widened, and you gaped at him, much to his amusement.

“You know Ancient Lucian?!” You said, astounded. How, why did he know ancient Lucian? You hadn’t met another person who knew it since you left school.

“Indeed I do,” Ardyn purred, pleased with the bewilderment that twisted your expression. “Our friends across the pond found the idea of communicating in a language we couldn’t understand quite grand, given the circumstances. Our intelligence agencies have become versed in the tongue to compensate, and I followed suit, so I may be kept abreast of their messages without the need for a translator.”

After hearing his explanation, you relaxed a little, glad there was an actual reason for it. Though, something still nagged at you from the back of your head. A strangeness you didn’t know how to name, something that felt…off. You decided to ignore it, all too happy to accept what he’d said.

Just a coincidence…The dreams may have been in the past, but it’s just a coincidence.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, at least.

“Makes sense,” you said with a nod. “Hard to spy on someone when you can’t understand them.”

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,” Ardyn shrugged.

As he finished his sentence, fancy curved wine glasses were placed in front of you. Charlette smiled triumphantly as she brandished the dark green bottle, residue of a wax seal dripping down the neck, the cork already gone. She filled your glasses halfway, a forced smile on your lips as you watched it fizzle and foam slightly. She left the rest on Ardyn’s side, bidding you adieu with reassurances that your meals would be out shortly.

Ardyn picked up his glass by the stem, swirling the scarlet liquid under his nose. You took yours as well, thinking how it was like coffee: smelling much too sweet for what bitterness it contained. With an approving smile, Ardyn brought the wine to his lips, and you quickly followed suit. Some part of you hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as you were expecting.

You tried your best not to make a face. You really did. Despite your efforts, you could feel the faint contorting of your expression turning sour. The potent flavor of alcohol permeated your entire mouth in seconds, like someone had cracked open a battery over your tongue, letting the vitriolic acid burn into your taste buds. The PH so low it brought back memories of being violently sick over a toilet.

You gulped it down quickly, relishing in the whisper of sweetness that followed the disgusting liquid. At least with wine, there was a pleasant, fruity aftertaste.

When your eyes flicked up at your companion, you had a new reason to grimace. Ardyn was staring at you, a brow raised, with the slightest frown on his face.

“Something the matter, dear?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Is it not to your liking?”

Oh, bless his heart. He doesn’t realize it’s not this wine I have a problem with.

“Ah -” you hedged, placing your glass back on the table shamefully. You’d hoped you would be able to get through at least a few sips before you made your distaste known.

“I’m sorry,” you said, hating yourself for not being able to just suck it up. “I’m just…not really a fan of most alcoholic beverages. Pure acid…” you muttered the last bit under your breath.

A long pause followed, Ardyn staring at you. You acquainted yourself with the table cloth, fidgeting nervously under his gaze.

You looked up in shock as a hearty laugh filled your ears.

“Is that all, my dear?” Ardyn said between laughs. “Why, you almost had me worried! I was afraid you’d taken ill.”

You blinked owlishly, not expecting his reaction. You let out your own laugh, albeit a nervous one. “No no, I’m fine. Just can’t stomach the stuff. Especially champagne. Never been able to enjoy it.”

“Well, I’d hate to bring you such discomfort.” Ardyn continued to snicker while he spoke. “I’ll have the waiter fetch you something more suitable.”

“Oh that’s okay.” You waved your hand dismissively. You didn’t want to seem picky or ungrateful. “I’m fine with water, you don’t have to -”

But it was too late, Ardyn already waving over one of the attendants that passed by. A tall young man with hair cut down nearly to the roots, a thin mustache on his lip.

“Might you be so kind as to fetch my friend something more to her liking?” Ardyn was saying, the man leaning down to hear him. “Preferably something…virgin? I’m sure you can think of an agreeable substitute.”

The attendant glanced at you, his brown eyes analytic, calculating as he studied you. Just as quickly, an uttered “Of course, your Excellency,” left his mouth before he turned and disappeared into the restaurant.

You sighed at his retreating back, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to do that, it was fine, I promise.”

“Oh but it wasn’t,” he gave you a pointed look. “I’ll not have it be known I’m a bad host. Besides, we came here to enjoy ourselves, and it seems unfair to let me have all the fun.”

Well, you supposed you couldn’t argue with that. He had a point, after all. And hard as you tried to fight it, a little smile crept across your cheeks. It was…kind of sweet.

“Thank you,” you said to the table. The thoughtfulness made a fuzzy warmth settle in your chest.

Ardyn didn’t respond, though his expression softened. A slow nod was all that was needed to show he accepted your gratitude.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to return to our previous conversation,” he said gently, his fingers laced in his lap and elbows resting on the armrests of his chair.

Looking up, you nodded. “Right.”

“Tell me, do you have any family living in our lovely capital?”

Your smile faltered, fists clenching in your lap, bunching up the napkin. You hadn’t expected him to jump to that so soon. The fuzz in your chest burned like kindling, and you averted your gaze, hoping he couldn’t see the extent of the sourness that replaced your smile.

“They, uh….We’re not exactly on good terms.” You picked at a loose string on the tablecloth, unable to meet his eyes.

“My apologies. I did not mean to upset you.”

“No,” you said quickly, turning back to him. “No, it’s okay. It’s just…I…” You paused trying to think of how to phrase it.

“They always wanted me to be perfect,” you started, pushing down and burying the anger that tried to resurface with the memories. “I was never good enough for them, and they made sure I knew it. They always wished I’d been a son. And my older sister was never any help.”

You swallowed, the lump that’d formed in your throat making it harder to talk with each word. It’d taken years, and lots of therapy, to be able to talk about it at all. You still couldn’t without emotions that’d been left to fester in stained jars from clawing at your skin, threatening to spill. For what does a child crave more than the love of their mother and father?

They only ever saw you as their maid, though. You were cooking the family meals by the time you were ten, cleaning the house and doing the chores since seven. Your family was the proud owner of a successful orchard to the east of the capital, meaning their house was nothing to sneeze at. More of a mansion, but to you it was more of a prison, trapped with a father who shouted and a mother who demeaned. You were beaten into submission, burned and flayed and ripped until you were their perfect little princess, a trained monkey for all to gawk at.

You supposed all the love they had was used up on your sister, whom they spoiled to the point of being rotten. She loved how much they favored her over you. It was like a sport to her, to see how much trouble she could get you into. Any attempts to stand up to her were rewarded with a lock on your door, and a night without dinner. Some part of you did pity her though; she was but a pampered poodle after all. More of an object to your parents than a person, something to flaunt to their rich neighbors.

Schooling wasn’t something they were overly fond of you participating in, since your sister had already proven herself superior in that field. She won awards at science fairs while your grades were good, but not spectacular. A failing in their eyes. When eighteen rolled around, their boot was already firmly placed in your back, the door to their estate shutting with a thunderous crack behind you. They would suffer a runt no longer.

You tensed when something kicked you, snapping you out of your dark memories. Your brows furrowed, and you stared down at the table as if you might see through it. Then - there it was again. Something nudged your shin.

It was Ardyn. His smirk had been wiped clean off, and was replaced with a gentleness you hadn’t seen before. It…looked like sympathy.

“I know the feeling all too well,” he answered your unspoken question. “I never lived up to my family’s standards, so I became an outcast.” Something flicked across his face, and you blinked, recognizing it. It looked similar to what happened when he saw Jeremy; an untamable rage that was held by a leash ripe for snapping. Gone before you had a chance to really see it, buried as deep as it would go.

Well…family issues could certainly explain his bitterness.

You sensed his leg was still encroaching on your side of the table. Thankful that he snapped you out of your whirlpool of thoughts, you decided to return the favor. Sinking down into your seat a little, you reached out with your right foot, finding his boot easily. Delicately, you curled your ankle, giving his shin a comforting rub.

A soft smile returned to his face when he felt you. You gave him one of your own, feeling he deserved to be soothed too.

“So…we’re both a little broken,” you said, like you were sharing a secret. “Maybe we can help each other pick up the pieces, if you’re willing.”

He hummed in thought, letting his smile grow back into a smirk. Good - he was feeling better, then.

“I’d like that,” he said, twirling the stem of his wine glass in his fingers. “If you’re willing to put up with the ravings of an old man.”

You scoffed at him. “You’re not old!” You waved your hand at him in offense. “You look thirty!”

“Close,” he teased, sipping his drink. “I’m thirty-three.”

“See? That’s not old.”

He snickered at how adamant you were. You certainly had fire when you wanted to.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be winning this one.” He leaned back in his chair, defeated. “Ugh, where were you on the council when I needed you?”

“I don’t think I’ve got the patience for politics,” you giggled at the thought. “I’d speak out of line once and get thrown in jail.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. Especially with the epidemic of incompetence spreading through the Emperor's cabinet as of late.”

“Giving you trouble, are they?” You said with a chuckle.

“All the time.”

You laughed whilst he shook his head, rubbing his temple in frustration. You supposed even the chancellor couldn’t escape the woes of annoying colleagues.

“Who’s the worst of the bunch?” You probed, not really expecting an answer.

“General Calligo Ulldor,” he said without hesitation, letting out an angry sigh. “He has an ego bigger than the imperial legions, and that is saying something.”

You hummed, taking a sip of water. You could feel its cold touch glide down your throat as you drank. You hadn’t noticed until then, but your mouth had gone quite dry over the course of the evening.

“Never heard of him,” you said, placing your glass back on the table. You weren’t big on politics, but you still knew some of the people on the imperial council. Aside from Ardyn, that is.

He grinned widely at your statement, a mischievousness darkening his eyes.

“I’ll be telling him that when next I see him. He’ll have an utter fit over it.”

You scoffed again. “I doubt he cares what some commoner thinks.”

“And you would be forgiven for that assumption, inaccurate as it may be. The man believes his name echoes from the coasts of Niflheim to the walls of Insomnia.”

“Damn…that is a big ego.”

You smiled as Ardyn laughed, one that was carefree and jovial. You liked that look on him. You decided you wanted to see him laugh like that more.

Right as he was settling down, your waitress returned, steaming plates balanced in one arm while she held a glass in the other. You’d completely forgotten about the drink Ardyn ordered for you, but its bright red color betrayed something sweet, and you were a sucker for sweet things. The warm plate she placed in front of you looked just as appetizing; you didn’t need to sink your fork into it to tell it was cooked to perfection, its savory aroma prompting an impatient growl from your belly.

You both thanked the waitress and she was off, leaving you alone to enjoy your meals. Ardyn encouraged you to tell him if it was all to your liking, and you nodded, though you doubted you would be disappointed. It all looked perfect.

Holding up his glass, Ardyn proposed a toast to your budding relationship. Taking your own, you adorned a goofy smile as your glasses tinked together, both of you taking swigs of your drinks. This one was infinitely better, a mix of ulwaat berries and the sharp taste of oranges. These were the kind of drinks you could suck down all day.

The food was the real highlight though, which was to be expected. As soon as the first forkfull hit your tongue, you melted into your seat, closing your eyes blissfully to bask in the heavenly flavor. It was even better than you could’ve imagined.

For those first few bites, neither of you insisted on conversation, too busy savoring your dishes. Glancing at Ardyn’s, you still weren’t entirely sure what it was, but it looked like some kind of fancy casserole; a layer of starchy substance concealed a treasure of meat and vegetables. You’d have to ask him what it was later.

After a few minutes, Ardyn resumed asking you questions in between bites. You were happy to oblige, the conversation flowing more freely. He started by asking about your hobbies, mercifully leaving the issue of your family aside. You told him about them in scant detail, curious what his own hobbies were, and asking him as much. He told you he fancied all different manners of wine, though that wasn’t much of a revelation, given his enthusiasm for the stuff. He also told you he was rather good at chess, which surprised you. You asked him to play you sometime, though he warned your odds of winning against him were slim, at best. You made him promise not to go easy on you.

By the time you two were done exchanging stories of how you fell into your passions, your plates were greasy and cold, your glasses empty and stained. Ardyn drank almost the entire bottle of wine on his own, yet he didn’t seem even the slightest bit tipsy. He must’ve had a high tolerance, since he seemed to drink it often, by the way he spoke about it.

As soon as you both were satisfied, Charlette appeared, gathering your dirtied plates and asking if you had interest in dessert. Ardyn looked to you wordlessly, leaving the decision in your hands. As much as you were tempted, you were full enough on dinner, and chose to decline. With that, she took the last of the wine, saying she would keep it for his next visit, and add the night's meal to his tab.

When she departed for the final time, Ardyn stood, strutting to your side so he could hold out his hand for you. You blushed a little as you placed your hand in his, letting him help you up. Somehow it felt more intimate then, the way he smiled at you with his trademark smirk and gave his arm for you to take. It felt less like it was just for show and more like he may actually have some interest in you.

As dizzying as the thought was.

But you weren’t going to let your doubts dampen your mood. A pleasant contentment had laid its roots in you, blooming into a smile that wouldn’t leave your face. The evening had gone better than you could’ve expected. Even though there was some initial nervousness, and the hiccup of your family affairs, your conversation had otherwise come naturally. Both of you teased each other, cracked jokes, made like a merry couple, all things considered. It made you feel good. It put a spring in your step as you were walked back to the elevator.

Ardyn, of course, insisted on taking you home. You agreed readily; the building was much too far from home to walk, which left you with few options. Not that you minded, you were feeling more confident in Ardyn’s presence after the night you shared.

The ride home was lethargic, your bodies busy processing what you’d put in them. Ardyn made his way to your apartment without issue, parking his car right next to the front doors. When you got out, so did he, asking if he could walk you to your room. You hesitated at first, but you allowed it. You didn’t want to leave his side just yet. Standing next to him was starting to feel warm. Comforting.

The elevator ride was a silent one, but this time the painful prick of awkwardness was noticeably absent. It let you off with a ding, and you led Ardyn down the row of cookie cutter doors to what you called home.

“This is me,” you said, gesturing to one close to the end. The only distinguishing feature a gold 1021 glued under the peephole.

“…Thank you,” you said, turning to where Ardyn stood behind you, watching you fish around in your purse for your keys. “For tonight, I mean. I had fun.”

Ardyn’s eyes softened. “As did I,” he said.

You stared at each other for a long moment, not saying anything, wondering how you should part from each other. You weren't sure if you should do something more. Should you say goodnight? Hug him? Kiss him? The possibilities swirled in your head, indecision pulling her boney fingers through your hair.

Though, as usual, Ardyn knew what to do. He stepped forward, the familiar feeling of his fingers under your chin welcome. Perhaps it was the lighting, but his amber eyes seemed to glow as he looked down at you.

“Might I be so bold…” he murmured, his half lidded irises blinking long and slow. “As to wish you a goodnight?”

He carded his thumb across your lower lip, a wake of tingling skin left after it. His gaze darted down to watch your mouth get pulled apart ever so slightly, before his eyes snapped back up.

He wanted to say goodnight… but not with words.

Your eyes widened. Did he…really want to…?

It was a little scary, when you realized what exactly he was asking of you. What if you weren’t good enough? Would you disappoint him? Hell, were you even ready for this?

You trembled with a full body shudder, the answer your soul gave shaking you to your core.

“Yes,” you breathed, letting your consent hang in the air as the tension between you two balanced on a knife's edge. Your tongue wet your lips as you allowed your eyes to fall and linger on his mouth, before being caught again by his saucers of honey.

Ardyn hummed in pleasure, holding your chin up for himself.

“Close your eyes…” he whispered.

You obeyed without hesitation, blood rushing in your ears as the anticipation made your muscles tighten.

The ghosting of his breath across your face preceded him. You curled your toes, waiting, and when the stubble of his beard scratched your skin, his lips finally meeting yours, time slowed to a stop.

His touch had always sparked heat deep beneath your skin, a crackling fire of emotions you didn’t dare name.

But this…this was a bonfire, one that struck like lightning down to your fingertips, a raging blaze that stole your breath away. His mouth was soft, decadent in the way it slowly massaged into yours, delectable in the way his beard contrasted his lips. You could sense the faint, sweet taste of the wine he’d had, making him all the more delicious.

It took you a moment to come down from your high, remembering to return his gentle caress. The care he took to familiarize himself with how you moved kept making you lightheaded. Even though he took the lead, he wasn’t demanding. Ardyn allowed you to get lost in the movement, your fingers curling as a need began to bloom in the bowels of your core.

He was addicting.

Whatever fleeting thoughts occupying your brain vanished, leaving behind only the need to join him in that dance. You sighed contentedly into him, melting into his form, your hands coming to rest on his chest. Ardyn made a pleased sound, his own hands dropping to hold your hips, keeping you flush against himself.

It was all at once long and indulgent and over far too soon. You parted from each other with a wet, satisfying pop, panting not from lack of breath, but from the magnitude of what you’d just done. You got kissed by the chancellor. And fuck, you’d liked it. You’d liked it a lot. Your eyes fluttered open, watching him, hoping he’d enjoyed that as much as you had.

Ardyn’s face shone with the gentlest blush, his eyes slightly wide and unblinking. He looked at you like you were a great mystery to him, something he lacked the tools to figure out. He was at a loss for words, his neck showing the faintest hints of perspiration.

But even while his face was contorted with confusion, he couldn’t hide the desire that burned deep within his eyes.

There was a long pause that followed, the two of you just staring at the other. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what you would do.

It did not have to wait long for an answer.

Something in Ardyn snapped. He suddenly lunged forward, sweeping you up and forcing a startled yelp from you, shoving you against your door. The sound was barely out of your throat when he claimed your lips again, holding your body delightfully hostage between himself and cheap wood.

At first, the kisses were light and airy. Perhaps even hesitant, both of you scared of what further indulgence would entail.

But soon, they were needy, desperate. You could sense it in the way he moved, how he clung to you like he feared the very thought of letting go. Like he’d wandered a barren desert all his life, only to now be blessed with the quenching mist of morning rain. You were his salvation, locked away and hidden by those who would wish him suffering.

And you were just as parched, just as depraved in your search for relief.

You could feel the door strain behind you, creaking while it struggled to hold as it pressed against your back, Ardyn humming a possessive growl into your skin.

You held on to his roaming forearms for stability, trying to remain grounded enough to return his sweet affections. The worries from the night, the week before melted away, massaged out of you by the passion, the hunger in his eyes.

So what if it all collapsed, really? Did it matter, when you breathed in Ardyn’s scent, his musk, as you moved to run your fingers through his hair, scraping your nails along his scalp. Oh, and the little whine of delight he made when you nipped his lower lip, his excitement brushing against your thigh.

So what if the world fell apart tomorrow, spoiled by fire and brimstone?

Would it matter, would you care?

No, you realized, humming into his mouth, cupping his stubbly cheek in one hand. His own traveled your sides, slowly dragged up and down, from where your bra could be felt through your shirt down to your hips. His nose pressed against yours, his bangs tickled your forehead.

You gasped when something slick traced your lower lip. You hadn’t expected him to be so bold. But you immediately let him in, unable to stop a slight moan as his tongue darted inside you. The remnants of his meal remained on the dexterous muscle, spreading the exotic spices across your taste buds as he explored your mouth. It intertwined with your own, bringing you together in a deep, primal way.

You could feel heat gathering below you, soiling your underwear. A pressure that built with every featherlight touch.

You felt slightly filthy for it. Normally, you weren’t really one to have sex on a first date.

But he felt so good. So right.

Your left hand untangled from his hair, groping blindly at the door holding you up, trying to fiddle with the handle.

“Do you…want to…come inside?” You asked between kisses, chasing his lips as he dove down to nibble the tender flesh of your neck. You groaned in appreciation, your fingers flying back into his hair.

When your words finally registered, Ardyn froze. You could’ve wailed when he leaned back slowly, meeting your eyes with a calculating expression.

You immediately felt guilt squeeze your chest. You’d overstepped.

“I don’t believe…” Ardyn said through heavy breaths. “…that would be appropriate of me, given how long we’ve known each other.”

Your face fell, as did your heart. The heat inside you fizzled, fading into embarrassment that made you want to sink into the ground.

He must surely think you a whore, now. Gods, you’d ruined it.

“Now, now,” he said gently, taking your crestfallen face into his palm. A sweet smile returned to his features as he rubbed fond circles into your cheek. “There’s no need to look so disappointed.” He leaned down sinfully close to your ear, his voice a siren’s song. “I am not opposed to having a bit of fun, once we come to know each other better.”

Your heart leapt at that. So there was still hope for you.

Ardyn chuckled when we leaned back, noticing how your face had brightened. You were just adorable.

“Speaking of which,” he began, letting his hands fall from you as he took a step back. Your body unconsciously swayed in his direction, missing the warmth of his caress. Oh, how he’d never get tired of watching you chase his touch. “I had plans to spend the afternoon at the imperial gardens at his Radiance’s humble abode. It would bring me unending delight if you were to join me.”

You stared at him with wide, excited eyes. “Is that allowed?” You asked. Not just anyone was permitted into the imperial palace, especially common folk. You’d only ever seen it in passing, from the outside.

Ardyn grinned mischievously. “With my blessing, you are allowed anywhere, my dearest. Sans perhaps, the Emperor’s private quarters. I don’t believe he would find it amusing if we visited him uninvited.”

You laughed quietly at the thought. Ardyn certainly had an interesting sense of humor.

Stepping up to him, you caught him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his chest, reminding yourself of when you’d done the same thing in a dream. His clothes were just as comforting and full of warmth as then too, and you delighted in the movement of his lungs, the beating of his heart. After a moment, he held you with just as much enthusiasm, one hand rhythmically combing through your hair while the other cupped the small of your back.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow?” You asked, looking up at him in question. He still had that soft adoring smile on his face, and you could’ve melted at seeing it displayed for you.

He brushed the back of his knuckles across your cheek, widening your pleased grin.

“I swear it on my honor as Chancellor,” he smirked, that whimsical mischief you were coming to know returning to his eyes.

You giggled at him, releasing his waist in favor of taking his hand from your face, pressing a delicate kiss on the back of his fingers. “A simple promise would do.”

“Then a promise you’ll have,” he said. “I’ll have an attendant ready for you by noon tomorrow. Make sure you’re ready a few minutes prior to his arrival, it would be a shame to make him wait.”

You gave a short nod. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” You released his hand as he stepped backward, waving as he turned toward the elevator. “With that, I bid you farewell. Until tomorrow.”

You returned his wave smally, watching him go.

“Good night, Ardyn.”

He paused midstep, looking at you over his shoulder. He’d almost forgotten.

“Good night…花.” (hana)

Your eyes widened, a soft gasp falling from your lips as he smirked at you. He continued on down the corridor, as carefree as he was at the convenience store.

Like he hadn’t just called you his flower in ancient Lucian.

Your head spun with it, a flush washing down to your fingertips. It was so…intimate, in a different way. Like a promise, a trusted secret. You almost wanted to call after him, say something in return, but you couldn’t think of anything suitable. Plus, you didn’t want to overstep so soon after you’d already stumbled. He’d set a pace for the both of you in this. The least you could do was respect it.

So, with some reluctance, you focused on getting your door open. Still, you couldn’t wipe your stupid smile from your face. He called you flower, you thought giddily, the door clicking softly as the lock was undone. You closed it gently behind you, not wanting to wake your neighbors. Glancing at the digital clock on your stove, it was already well past ten. The fact had your body sagging. It’d been easy to ignore your tiredness before, but now that you were alone, it struck you with full force. It was past your bedtime.

Throwing your purse onto the coach carelessly, you got ready for bed. Your brain was filled with the memories of your night out, replaying the best parts as you showered and changed. You’d had more fun than you thought you would.

And you were going to see him again tomorrow!

You let out a happy sigh at the reminder, snuggling into bed. You were excited to see him.

So much so, it was almost enough to make you forget about your dreams. And the nagging sense of wrongness that was an incessant thorn in the back of your mind, as you drifted off to sleep.

“Sleep well…あなた.” (anata)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ardyn slammed his fist against the elevator wall, the metal groaning as it caved from the force. Another dent for the disgusting bucket that building called a lift.

“Gods damn it all,” he muttered, a fury that was all too familiar making him tremble with a need to release it.

The kiss had been a test. He wanted to know how much the gods had made you in Aera’s image, and your little date gave him the perfect opportunity to test not only your personality, but also your more…intimate mannerisms. A quick peck was all it was meant to be.

But it became so much more. When his lips touched yours, he got the same feeling he did when he kissed his beloved. How his heart felt like it was soaring, content and ignorant of the turmoil that shook the ground below. With her, he forgot his hurts as a healer who absorbed the scourge, and instead could simply exist. Pretend for a few moments he lived a peaceful life with his beloved, drowning in the happiness she wrought.

And it’d happened again. He felt it as soon as he kissed you. That happiness, the love he craved so deeply, even if he denied it. Your lips had moved with that same feeling of reverence, the same unconditional love he once felt from her. When you parted from each other, his soul screamed, for it was desperate to feel even an ounce of that again.

So, against his better judgment, he’d kissed you again. And again. And again. He let himself get lost in it, closing his eyes as he remembered her. He could picture it, stealing time away from his duties to waste it in the gardens together. Or stolen moments at the inn of the town he was curing, where they would relax for a short while before their callings beckoned them onward.

Until you spoke, that is, reminding him who it was he was actually kissing.

That had been a splash of cold water to his senses, and he knew he had to stop. He’d let it go on for far too long.

His fingers hesitantly traced his lips, which tingled with the memory of your touch. No, it hadn’t been the exact same as Aera, he realized. You were both gentle in your affections, certainly, but there was something else in yours. A fiery determination mixed with a hint of apprehension. You weren’t as sure of yourself as Aera was, but you had enough will to fight that part of yourself when you wanted to.

He let out an angry sigh as the doors slid open to the lobby. He’d have to do more tests to be certain.

The dinner had been fruitful at least. Even though he was a bit sad to see you still couldn’t be completely honest with him, he’d expected as much. Well, no matter. He’d just have to break down your walls, earn your trust. Something he could call himself an expert in.

Still, he’d gotten quite a bit out of you. He learned enough to tell that you were not a carbon copy of his Aera, which had him relieved. He’d been worried the gods would be too lazy to think of anything else, couldn’t imagine anyone besides her holding him in any positive regard. That they would copy and paste her personality, her wants, her passions onto another body, plastering another face over it.

They hadn’t, though, which surprised him. Aera had been a fan of architecture, something that you displayed no interest in. Reading was something you had in common, but he supposed he couldn’t really blame you for that one - you worked in a library after all. She also had no issues with her family, at least none that he could recall. No, you were your own person. The gods had given him a small mercy on that front.

Yet that mercy was a double edged sword. While he could confirm you were your own person, he could also confirm there was unmistakably something bigger at play here. It was no coincidence you made him feel the ways Aera did. And it was no coincidence you’d met now, so close to the cursed prophecy’s end.

A prophecy he was now certain had begun pulling at your strings.

Though for what purpose, he still couldn’t say.

He’d have time to figure it out though, under the guise of more ‘dates’.

Speaking of which…

Ardyn pulled out his phone, dialing a number as he slammed his car door shut. It rang once before it was answered.

“Yes, your Excellency?” The scratchy voice of one of his servants chirped.

Ardyn said your name, your full name, into the device. “I want you to find me the location of her immediate family. I’d like to pay them a visit…”

“At once, your Eminence.”

———————————————————————

Thank you everyone for the patience and support. It has really helped me get back into this, now that I have time.

I kept things like Reader's hobbies and what they were eating vague so you can put in whatever you like :). I personally imagined reader got some delicious beef wellington and Ardyn got a shepherd's pie. I head canon he likes commoner food, it's comforting for him.

Also, since some of you know I do have some childhood trauma, I just want to say the stuff I said about reader's family is completely fictional. My family is wonderful and I love them very much. We're going out for drinks later :) (yes the alcohol thing is real though so wish me luck lmao).

Also also I decided since I'm semi bilingual I wanted to add some Japanese into the story! Don't worry, I'll make sure to put translations in the text where it appears, that way you don't have to scroll/look anything up to understand it. This time is the exception because I wanted it to be a surprise. Japanese definitely exists inside FFXV already, I'm just tweaking it so it can be a sweet little thing between Ardyn and reader :) Hope you enjoy it!

Translations: 花 = flower あなた = dear (or a general term of endearment)

No, the dreams weren't in ancient Lucian, they were in English. Reader didn't even know they were in Lucis during them, and probably still has some doubt about the exact location.

Anyway, I've set a routine for myself to write a little bit everyday, which I hope I can adhere to. Please look forward to future chapters!

[tuiyla]

peak ally-ship is Mercedes Jones taking a longer than necessary pause during Rumour Has It/Someone Like You and glancing at Santana before continuing

[gleesongtournament]

I am sorry that you are getting hate for the final poll. It's ridiculous and cruel and undeserving. You don't have to do these polls and I thank you for doing them. I had voted for RHI/SLY and bummed some it lost BUT it's not that deep and it's not okay to send hate about it and it's not okay to accuse someone of hating women because of it. People like what they do and don't like what they don't and that's okay! And fyi I do really like Cough Syrup and I think Blaine was amazing in it and I had voted for it in an earlier poll. And if RHI/SLY had to lose to one at least it was that one! I haven't interacted with you before because I'm pretty shy but I just had to say something. People sending hate and lies your way for whatever reason during these are just idiots and what they think is bullshit and try not to let it linger in your mind because they obviously have their own issues they need to work out. Thank you for doing these polls, I've truly enjoyed them!

Thank you so muuuuuch ♥️♥️♥️ Like idk I've put my own dumb comments on the polls before but the sheer VOLUME of trash talking just really got exhausting. And the like "omg no taste" comments are one thing but the comments and anons claiming the polls are somehow unfair bc me and all my followers hate women... just unreal

Like this poll tournament is not the next Stonewall aksjflkds I promise queer rights aren't being set back to the stone age bc a lesbian lost a poll. (Lost a poll to another gay character but we clearly don't care about that)

Ugh I could keep bitching but I'm thankful for the small little pockets of positivity that people are offering meee. Means more than you know!

[rachelberryy]

Santana Lopez, Gender Performativity, and the Gaze-Death Dichotomy

For @tuiyla

This is a follow-up from this essay on Santana and Bejewelled by Taylor Swift. It also probably looks the way it does because of this post that I read recently.

(I dug out my old university notes for this, because Judith Butler is a GOAT and I felt like going big brain mode)

i.

The top line of my notes on Butler’s gender performativity theory reads, “Gender may be naturalised and taken for granted, but it is still socially constructed and created through the repetition of everyday acts”. As far as I can tell, that isn’t a direct quote, so I’m going to presume it’s a paraphrased summary on my part. It’s the ideological descendant of an idea from Simone de Beauvoir, probably the most influential feminist philosopher of the twentieth century: “One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.” (Incidentally, the idea of gender as a social construct in western feminist literature goes at least as far back as Mary Wollstonecraft. As per usual, TERFs don’t have a clue what they’re talking about.)

Okay. Let’s talk Santana.

Santana is an Afro-Latina lesbian, and a woman. All of those things are relevant in one way or another. We learn that when she was young, Santana was quite the tomboy, until she was socially conditioned into abandoning that particular persona. Given what we know of her family, I think it’s a reasonable assumption that her abuela had something to do with that. That delivers us to the version of Santana we get for the first season and a half of Glee. She’s a bitch, she’s aggressively sexual, she’s notoriously promiscuous, she’s a cheerleader - the feminine high school archetype. In other words, she’s both a stereotype of the idealised high school popular girl, and a whole bunch of things for which women are typically demonised.

Patriarchy, like all reactionary ideologies, is deeply idiosyncratic, almost by design, and creates these catch 22 situations where women cannot conform or rebel enough, it will hate you anyway, because that is its point. That is complicated by the fact that Santana is a fictional character (and one created by a team of male writers, at that), and therefore is also a construct of the male gaze without any agency of her own. This is doubly true for Santana, who starts out as a side character whose first proper story is as Puck’s ‘woman on the side’, and whose second proper story is sleeping with Finn.

The whole thing is a mess of contradictions, an ill-fitting mess of female stereotypes. Slut, bitch, queen bee (once Quinn is deposed). She’s the opposite end of the ‘fucked up ways in which patriarchy constructs female sexuality’ spectrum to Quinn. She’s also, as we later find out, completely fucking miserable. She’s acting, all the time, allowing the only emotions that slip through the cracks of her walls to express themselves as anger. It’s all, you guessed it, a performance. A version of her that didn’t exist until society forced it to. Those aspects of her - so many of them distinctly gendered - are entirely constructed, against her actual nature.

ii.

And then she quits the Cheerios, realises that she’s a lesbian, and begins to deconstruct herself. Glee is an exceptionally manic show, with so little time afforded to monologues by anyone not named Will Schuester. And yet, at the end of Sexy, Santana is given quite a lengthy one, explaining and exploring her character up to that point. (I can think of one other single moment where the pacing of Glee gives Santana specifically a second to breathe: the pause in the middle of RHI/SLY.) The promiscuity, the bitchiness, the anger at the world. The knives turned out so that they don’t cut inside. So much repressed self-loathing.

Part of the reason that sapphicism broadly and lesbianism in particular are such an affront to patriarchy is because they don’t abide by the rules of the game. In other words, it challenges the way in which patriarchy has determined that womanhood and femininity should be performed. That doesn’t mean, however, that it isn’t a performance, if only because, within Butler’s framework, performing and lying are not the same thing.

As I explained in the previous essay, Prom Queen, conceptually and functionally, is about gender roles in a lot of ways. Kurt bucks gender norms with his outfit choice, by embracing the prom queen title, and by dancing with Blaine at the end of the episode. Quinn, in her desperation to be popular, and validated, and feminine, chases the prom queen crown ruthlessly, because it’s the ultimate prize for a popular girl. Again, like the cheerleading, it’s one of the classic high school archetypes. The whole idea of prom king and queen is so aggressively gendered, obviously. It’s binary, and heteronormative, and rooted in about seventeen different forms of social hierarchy. It’s gender performance taken to the extreme.

The conclusion of Santana’s storyline in that episode is her reconciliation with Brittany, and Brittany telling her that part of why she lost was because people could tell she was hiding something. Exactly who and how many people knew about Santana’s sexuality and when they knew it is something the show can never quite seem to be able to make its mind up on (side eyes at Finn Hudson), but the conclusion in this moment seems to be that the performance has, to some degree, gone awry. Because what use is a performance if nobody believes it? In that moment, it’s Santana’s worst fears about being punished for her transgression come to life - she is performing femininity incorrectly, and therefore she is denied the title that represents patriarchy’s feminine ideal.

iii.

Santana comes out is outed early in season 3, and we finally meet the person who has probably shaped her character - and her performance - more than anybody else we hadn’t met to that point (so, basically, more than anyone but Brittany). Alma Lopez. Abuela.

With some of the crumbs we’re offered up to that point, I don’t think it’s too unreasonable to see Alma’s treatment of Santana to be emotionally abusive - and this is only doubled down upon by her reaction to Santana coming out to her. It’s pretty explicitly stated that Alma is one of the main reasons that Santana is as vicious as she is. In other words, she shaped the performance. She’s clearly a pretty big female role model in Santana’s life, which is why the rejection hurts as much as it does.

The Glee subreddit is home to a wide variety of deeply stupid opinions. That might seem slightly mean, but one can only read so many defences of Finn Hudson objectively bad actions before one becomes slightly cynical. One opinion I’ve seen bandied about on there that I usually don’t have much time for is that Alma herself is a deeply repressed lesbian, largely stemming from the fact that Alma’s main issue with Santana’s sexuality seems to be that she’s willing to live it openly. Its slight difference from the usual ‘hate the sin, love the sinner’ line. I do think it’d be interesting to touch on it here, though. Santana, in many ways, learnt her performance from Alma, which is why her open embrace of her sexuality here - after so much angst and drama - is such an act of defiance, and that’s only doubled with this particular reading of Alma’s reaction.

iv.

While we’re on the subject of Santana’s family background, I’d like to talk briefly on the stereotyping of women of colour in particular, and the way that intersection plays into the idea of gender performativity. Santana’s race and ethnicity are a little ambiguous in certain ways. She refers to Mexican heritage, and Alma has a Dominican flag in her home, if I remember correctly. However, since it’s never explicitly stated otherwise, I’m going to run with the idea that Santana is Afro-Latina, like Naya herself was.

Santana, particularly in her initial presentation (read: performance), very much fits into some of the stereotypes often assigned to Latina women. She’s sexually aggressive and promiscuous. She has a ‘fiery’ personality type. (I’m not overly fond of that word, especially in this context, but I think that’s really kind of the point.) As she says herself, ‘My job here is to look hot.’ Of course, that line can be read shallowly, because I really don’t think Ryan Murphy or any of the lead Glee writers thought that deeply about these things, but most of this essay relies on Death of the Author theory and my reading far more into this story than its creators conceived. It also speaks to Santana’s lack of agency, both in and meta to the narrative itself. She also is hot but w/e

A worthy point of comparison here, I think, is Mercedes, who of all the main characters is probably denied agency the most; who is so infrequently allowed to be much more than a foil to Rachel, both by the writers and, perhaps more depressingly, by much of the fandom, particularly back in Glee’s original heyday. She is also frequently desexualised, again by both the writers and sections of the fandom. There is probably an essay to be written on the variety of reasons that Quinn (thin and white) is read as a lesbian and Mercedes (fat and black) is often read as asexual or earnest in her religious reasons for her celibacy when Quinn’s canon reasons are basically the same. I don’t think all of those reasons stem from those differences, and I definitely don’t want to criticise people for sexuality headcanons that offer them representation - because an asexual, fat, black woman would be kind of revolutionary, if indeed that was what Mercedes was. I also really don’t think I - a white person with half a Bachelor’s degree in Political Science and a Sociology A Level taught by a person for whom I once had to define intersectionality - am the person best suited to write that essay.

Which brings us back to Santana, and the ways in which her ethnicity impact her performance of gender, especially in the first two seasons when that performance is inauthentic. Death of the Author is, again, critical here - and I’m going to talk more about that at the end - but so is Gaze theory and Santana’s multi-layered lack of agency. As with all of the people of colour on Glee, Santana’s race and ethnicity are often ignored until it’s comedically convenient. I’m not saying the jokes don’t always work - Sam’s ‘Quinn once had sex with a Latina lesbian - learned that in glee club!’ comes to mind (I think part of why that works is that it’s one of the only times that it’s explicitly shown that homophobes are often deeply racist as well) - but I think that is notable that that’s often the only time it’s ever seen as worth mentioning. Santana, though played by a woman of colour in Naya, is ultimately a construct of the white men who created her, and it is through their Gaze that she exists. She has no agency in the real world, because she’s a fictional construct, and a distinct lack of agency within the narrative as a queer woman of colour.

So how does all of this relate to gender performativity theory? Said theory might be pithily summarised thus: “Gender is something we do, not something we are.” (I promise I do have a degree, I’m not just copying buzzy phrases from the inside cover of a sociology textbook lmao.) This, then, might fairly easily be mapped onto other socially constructed categories of being. So, how does one do their gender, or race, or ethnicity, or sexuality, when one has no agency of one’s own, when one is entirely a construct of the Gaze of others? When the puppet strings of the performance are juggled and manipulated entirely by someone outside the self? Ironically enough, things become even more of a performance, in multiple ways a construct. Santana the character is constructed, in the same way Santana the person, the queer woman of colour, is. Which is, of course, why critical literary analysis is such an apropos way to explore these ideas, because everything is a constructed performance anyway. And, in this way, we see how Santana’s character is flattened, whether it’s in the vaguely afterthought-like quality to any consideration of her ethnicity, or the wholesale ignoring of her blackness, or the fact that Santana the character, as opposed to Santana the person, is herself a construct.

And then the author dies. More on that in a bit.

v.

Santana has parallels with a lot of characters. Quinn is the obvious one, which is very well-trodden ground analytically speaking - narrative foils, both craving popularity because they can’t just up and admit that they want to be loved, both very gay and very repressed, both in love with Rachel - and season 2 makes Santana’s parallels with Dave quite clear. There are also certain parallels present with Kurt, though - and it’s not just because they’re the two principal queer characters - the two token McKinley gays, as someone put it once.

The relevant mirror here is on expression. Kurt starts out as very experimental, as far as his dress-sense is concerned. It’s also fairly androgynous. “Fashion has no gender,” he tells us. Over the course of the series, however, his fashion becomes more conventionally masculine - not overly so, but certainly more so than at the beginning. In Santana, this shift is even more pronounced. The main windows we get into her fashion is late season 2 and then season 4 and 5 in New York, and while it’s not exactly like her season 2 choices were all that transgressive, they were certainly more experimental than her tight dresses from later on. Now, this isn’t me hating on this style - because girl looks good - nor is it me saying that lesbians can’t adopt a more conventionally feminine sense of style. I would hope that goes without saying. Regardless, I think there’s something worth discussing here where agency is concerned.

Because, of course, Santana isn’t a real person - a real woman and a real lesbian; she’s a construct of a team of male writers. I think the easy explanation here is that the producers got lazy, on a whole range of fronts where costuming was concerned. And that is, at least to an extent, a reasonable line of thinking. To gesture to a fairly straightforward example, after a point they just started having Rachel... mostly just dress like Lea. However, I think there’s a more interesting lens of analysis to be had here where Santana is concerned when we recall that scene where her mother informs us that she was a tomboy growing up. The three points we have, really, are that snapshot of Santana as a small child, season 2, and season 4-5. In season 4 in particular, Santana is portrayed as feeling generally directionless and unsure of herself; of where her path is headed now that she exists outside the rigid hierarchies of McKinley High. And, so, her performance of femininity is exaggerated. It’s a continuation of what the cheerleader role represented for her earlier on: burying herself in the typical female role to hide from internal conflict.

I think there’s also more to be said, at this stage, on the way we can see this in Quinn as well. In season 1, she’s the church girl: babydoll dresses, sundresses, and, of course, her Cheerio uniform - something that she uses as a wall of self defence in a similar way to Santana. In season 2, her wardrobe is largely a more mature version of that - she’s been through the ringer, and being homeless and having a child have forced her to grow up, but, as we see in her determination to be Head Cheerleader again, she’s still desperately clinging to the version of herself from Before. The biggest departure is obviously Skank!Quinn, where she briefly leans fully into a more androgynous punk look before adopting, again, a fractionally more androgynous version of her season 2 appearance, namely the addition of her blazers - which might be read as something as a symbol of male soft social power. Her story in season 3 obviously continues to bring the angst, but it’s also a period of self-actualisation. The most traditionally feminine we see her presenting after that is in her brief appearances in season 5, where it is pretty explicitly established that she’s behaving inauthentically. It’s all fairly on the nose, especially on that latter point. Obviously we can’t map that onto Santana directly, but I think it’s an interesting lens of analysis, given that, as I established at the beginning of this section, the two characters parallel each other pretty strongly in a whole smorgasbord of ways.

vi.

I’ve been dancing around the whole ‘death of the author’ bit for a while now, so let’s get into it. The post that I linked at the top of this essay describes DOTA as 'once a work is complete, what the author believes it to mean is irrelevant to critical analysis of what's in the text’, and I think that’s a reasonable definition to work with here. In other words, the fact that this essay takes Santana as a person with agency of her own, outside of her creators’ intentions, is not necessarily incompatible with my argument that we might use the fact that she’s a fictional character to explore the idea of social constructs, because the former exists outside of the latter. Santana is a construct of fiction, and the author is dead. The two lenses of analysis go hand in hand, inverted as they may seem.

I don’t think it’s too controversial a statement to say that Glee isn’t a particularly tightly written piece of fiction. (Maybe it is controversial on the subreddit. Shit’s wild over there.) Santana is no exception to that. Her character is messy and inconsistent, and the writing varies in its willingness to explore her depth. It would be trite to say that within that uncharted depth lies the DNA of a brilliant character. I also don’t think that that’s entirely accurate, because Santana Lopez is brilliant. The brilliance, which I think I’ve explored quite widely in this essay, is in the margins, in the unsaid, the unexplored. It’s in the performance. Reading between the lines, we see the carefully constructed image that Santana herself created. That is the foundation upon which the character is built. And from that, we can analyse her in myriad ways - along with the myriad ways in which she is, herself, a constructed performance, both within and outside of the narrative, constantly deconstructing and reconstructing itself.

The author is dead. Long live Lopez.

[randomcanbian]

.

[genderfluiddnf]

tagged by: @vampyrefitness thank u jorjah my love 💗

last song: all the girls u've loved before by tswift ^_^

last show: idk tbh..... the mandalorian at least a bit just what my brother was watching

currently watching: the office!! also that 70s show and ginny and georgia

currently reading: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46146985

current obsession: dnf sly cooper fortnite and botw :]

tagging: ummm idk whoever wants to do rhis!!