#sorry to Joe Quinn fans don’t come at me but like no thanks

[joe-moi]

https://www.tumblr.com/joe-moi/742767260907782144/httpswwwtumblrcomjoe-moi742761435208318976i?source=share

Respectfully I gotta second this anon. Any actor and their choices are totally up for criticism, but lately this dude has been dragged through it kinda harshly here, other blogs, and the fandom in general. Idk I'd say focus on Keery, you seem to be much more positive about him, but the guy doesn't move except for the occasional pap photos with Chase it seems, so if you're trying to keep the blog going, the majority of the posts on here are about the fandom drama with Quinn. Also anybody anon or not saying they don't think they can be a fan of his anymore...just don't be one? Find another actor to lend your support to that you feel comfortable supporting instead of wasting so much time and energy dragging a guy you say you don't like but sure like talking about. Nobody is forcing you to stay in any fandom. You can go at any time, it is ok. It happens.

Thanks for the input.

I was the first to defend him back in the day. I was a huge fan. But my hyper fixation ended, I have mentioned that before so it shouldnt be a surprise. I still like him, there is just a lot of rumors and drama around him and he’s just a regular guy who literally is seen maybe once every two months. Jk has done a lot more since October than Quinn, he’s more interesting to me at the moment. And Quinn’s move recently just was disappointing to me. Thats all. I’m not discussing it further. You truly do not have to stay on this page. I try to get the other girls to come on here and answer some of the jq asks but they don’t, I’m not going to pressure them to either.

I’m sorry guys, that’s just how I feel in this exact moment in time.

[thiagodasilva]

😬✌🏼😬🫢

[quixotic-writer]

Switch it Up (Sal’s POV)

request: @birdgirl1772

summary: For some mysterious reason, Q and Sal wake up in the other’s body. After a quick pep talk they both agree that they’ll pretend to be each other for the day and hope they’re back to normal the next day. As Sal does some cleaning around Q’s place, he stumbles upon a journal and can’t help but give in to curiosity and dive into what’s between the lines of Q’s rambles.

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“meow!” Was all I heard as I feel something small and warm curl up against my face. I feel myself slowly rising from my sleepy state and it’s quickly replaced with confusion. The moment I manage to open my eyes, a black cat was mere inches from my face staring down at me with beady green eyes.

“AAAH!” I let out a scream and fall out of bed in attempts to distance myself away from the cat. When I screamed though, it didn’t sound anything like my voice at all, it had a low bass to it and felt as though I spoke with an accent. My hand shoots to cover my mouth and my eyes are wide and I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.

As I look at everything that surrounds me, I am now quickly noticing a list of things: this isn’t my room, there’s — not one but— THREE cats surrounding me, and my voice isn’t mine, nor is this body. I look at the tattoos on the arms but my vision feels so blurred that I can only make out the shapes of them. I quickly pick my now sore body up off the floor and rush into the bathroom.

“Q?!” I spat to the reflection in the mirror with a sense of shock and awe. I stare at each and every detail of the body I now reside in, familiar with it because it was my best friends, but it all felt dysmorphic at the same time because his body is built entirely different from mine. I knew this body wasn’t supposed to be mine, but I was still the one controlling it and there’s no escaping that it seemed. I bring my hand to my face and rub it across feeling the stubble of the beard tickle my palms and finger tips insuring that this wasn’t a dream.

As I continue to play around in the mirror and marvel at the sticky situation i’ve found myself in, I feel the cats begin to brush up against my legs and mewl. I jolt at the sensation and feel the anxiety of my feline phobia well up in my stomach, but there isn’t much I can do since they seem to think i’m Q.

“I guess I should feed you guys, huh?” I speak down to the cats who chatter in response. I step out of the bathroom to head downstairs but I suddenly jump at the sound of a phone ringing. Looking to the nightstand I see Q’s phone ringing with my contact ID lit up on it. ‘Sally Boy♡” it read, a very effeminate name for me. It didn’t bother me, it was actually kind of cute.

“Hello?”

“Sal! Thank god you picked up. What the hell is going on?!” Judging by the sheer panic and the speech pattern and also the blatantly obvious answer: it was definitely Q on the other end of the line. Is that really what my voice sounds like to other people?

“I guess we switched bodies or something. You don’t have anything important to do today that would need me to be you... right?”

“No, I don’t have anything. Do you have anything I have to do for you?” I pry into my memory to think of the seemingly endless list of things I usually have to do, but to my surprise nothing really comes to mind.

“Pretty sure I got lunch with Gatto today, nothing else I can think of. But check my calendar in my phone just in case, and for the love of god DO NOT destroy my house.” The line goes dead and I know Q doesn’t wanna hear it. He’s the complete opposite of me as far as cleanliness goes, if even one thing is out of place if I ever get back to my own body, he’ll never hear the end of it.

I turn on my heels and go to feed the cats as I had initially planned, carefully tip toeing around them so I don’t touch them or stomp on them on accident. As soon as their breakfast is made and served, I retreat upstairs to get myself cleaned up. It’s still a shock every time I walk past any reflective surfaces and see the i’m not actually me.

I brush my teeth, comb my hair, wash my face; the normal things anyone does when they wake up. As I go to spray some cologne, I get a quick whiff of it and just soak in the scent. Q always did smell hypnotically good to me, every time he walked past a gust of it would hit my nose and I would just stop what I was doing to take it in.

“That sounds kinda creepy.” I say out loud to myself and my thoughts come to a halt. I step out of the bathroom and take a look at all the details of Q’s room. It’s a mess to say the least. Clothing everywhere, it looks like he hasn’t dusted in here in ages, his work desk in the corner of his room is riddled with piles upon piles of paper and is completely disheveled. I know this isn’t a matter of a “system” going on, I just know he has a hard time keeping up with things sometimes especially when his depression weighs down on him a little harder on certain days.

I step over to his desk first to try and make sense of the clutter and piles and try to organize them so that he’ll know where they are and why they’re arranged so specifically.

“Notes from a meeting. Notes from another meeting. Paid bill. Fan mail. Contract.” I shuffle through and assign them a pile until I reach a composition book at the pit of all the papers. The front has nothing written on it so I saw no harm in peeking inside and turning to the first page and reading it.

My therapist suggested I started keeping a journal/diary since I tend to lose track of time and have a hard time remembering certain things. It seems stupid but why not give it a shot.

I stop reading immediately and my eyes go wide and pause on the last word I read on the page. This is his DIARY, I can’t be reading this. I flip the pages and see almost half the book is filled with endless scrabbles of words of what’s going on in his head. I’ve never been good at reading Q’s mind quite like he can with mine, he’s always so closed off about his emotions and curiosity is enticing me to read every word on these pages.

“This is so wrong.” I say holding the notebook closed with my forefinger creating an open gap of temptation between the pages. I look around quickly and look back down at the notebook and slowly open it back up. “Maybe... skimming things wouldn’t hurt. Right?” And with that, I was nose deep in the notebook.

Today at set we filmed Sal’s punishment, it was payback for the time the boys thought it would be funny to put tarantulas all over me. I went in early to play with the little cats and kittens that were brought in for the day and I had never felt happier. Nothing brings me more joy than to just be around animals. That joy was quickly taken away though. It was funny at first seeing the little kittens all over him. It was all just mild discomfort it seemed, it wasn’t SCARY since they were small and harmless to him. But when we brought in the actual cats, that’s when I really started feeling bad. He was drenched in sweat, his throat seemed hoarse from the sheer panic and stress to the point where he could barely get anything out, his body looked like it was ready to concave on itself because of the situation. I was laughing with Joe and Murr, but deep inside, I felt guilty because it was all my idea. I caused him pain. I know it’s a part of the game we play, but something about it just didn’t sit right. I just wanted to go and help him and hug him until he felt better. I wanted to say sorry over and over but I knew it would kind of raise some suspicions. So instead I kept quiet and played along... At least at the end of it I helped ease the tension and brought out Big Benjamin Cat. Sal seemed fine after that, and I think that’s the only reason it won’t really bother me for a while is because he was okay after it all. I hate seeing him hurt.

He felt bad about my punishment? This was truly news to me. The way he talked about it too, it seemed so endearing and despondent about the whole situation. Now i’m intrigued and enraptured by what’s within this book, all inhibitions have been thrown out the window and I quickly flip through a few pages and land on another page.

After today’s therapy session, i’ve noticed myself talking a lot about Sal. I love Gatto and I love Murr, let me preface all this with that. But I feel this magnetic connection to Sal that I don’t think i’ve ever really felt with anyone. He gets me even though I don’t tell him a lot, he’s just there for me. When I do tell him stuff, he handles it like it’s glass; He gives it a lot of care and attention. There’s no one else who makes me feel the way I do. It feels like this growing thing for a long time and I really don’t know what to make of it. I’ve tried sorting out all of these thoughts and emotions that go through my head with him, but I really just don’t know. I’m a grown man still confused and I think that’s what makes it hard. It’s also kind of scary because for so long i’ve just been seen as your standard single and sleeps around kind of guy and i’m kind of growing tired of that image but I can’t just wipe it away when its been stained on me for so long. I just hope one day I can sort this shit out and be honest with myself.

With each page that I devoured, I felt as though I was peeling away the layers of an onion and was slowly getting to the heart of it all. With each sentence it felt like I was suffering from whiplash because I kept doing double takes to all the seemingly outlandish remarks. What caught me incredibly off guard was the endless ramblings of me, his infatuation with the idea of me. The image of the mental ideas of Brian Quinn was slowly being pieced together like a puzzle with this journal. Without realizing how much time had passed or how much I had read, I had finally reached the last and most recent entry, the one that sent my heart into an inferno.

I think now is a good a time as any to finally come clean with myself. It’s time i’m honest with myself and I stop holding myself back, no more lying to myself, no more blind blatant ignorance, none of that. I’m Brian Quinn, and I admit it: I have fallen in love with my life long best friend Sal. Wow. It feels oddly invigorating to finally get that out of my system. Maybe my therapist was right about this journal thing. Yes, I love my best friend but I don’t know what to do about it. He’s honest with me and said he wouldn’t mind being with a guy and that gave me a small spark of hope, but I just don’t know if i’m a guy he’d be into or not. It could be an unrequited love situation for me and it would hurt a lot to have my heart crushed like that. But honestly, I don’t care if he doesn’t love me back, I just don’t ever want him to disappear out of my life. That’s what’s stopping me from just spouting it out and telling him the truth. I don’t want to scare him away, I don’t want him to feel awkward around me, I don’t want things to change for the worse. I just want Sal, in the sense of his presence, his companionship, his friendship. That’s all. Maybe one day i’ll have the confidence to tell him, but for now i’m just happy that i’m confident enough to tell myself the truth.

I sat there for an unknown period of time. I leaned back in the chair with my mouth slightly agape and brushing a hand through my hair, unsure of how to process everything that I just read. It felt like a guilty pleasure to finally know all of this about someone I thought I had pegged pretty well.

There’s one big detail that stood out loud and boldly to me: Q, my best friend, has fallen for me. It’s so crazy to read what’s on his mind and watching him figure this out and realize what the emotions were page by page.

I close the notebook and place it with all his other books neatly in the little nook of the desk and finish tidying things up. After another hour, his room was back in livable shape. I smile and beam with pride at my handiwork and hope this helps him feel a little more at peace in his own living space.

Just as he was headed downstairs, a knock on the door echoed through the quiet home. When the door opened, I was startled to see myself standing before me, forgetting for a brief moment that I wasn’t in my own body.

“Fucking hell Q, you could’ve at least texted.” I had a hand over my chest as my heart rate begins to subside from the mild scare of seeing myself standing before me. Q rolls his eyes and looks down and beams with jubilation to see the three cats prowling towards him.

“My babies!! Daddy’s home!!” He kneels down and gives a happy helping of pets and scratched to each one of them.

“So how’d lunch with Gatto go? Did he suspect anything?” Q picks up Brooklyn in his arms and cuddles her close and they both step into the house and seat themselves on the couch.

“Went fine. He did say that ‘you’ were acting strange today, he just said that i’ve been hanging out with Q too much. Little did he know that it was me!” He chuckles releasing Brooklyn from his arms and watches as she trots away. “How were things here? You seem fine with the cats since you’re not dead and none of them are missing.” I think back to the little notebook upstairs but try and play things cool as to not give anything away, he’ll talk to me when he’s ready. It’s not my place to pry at his emotions.

“Things were fine. I did tidy up your room though, just thought i’d help you out a bit. If and when we switch back, just ask if you need help finding anything.” I smile to him and he smiles back, it was a bashful smile and it made my heart melt. “Did you wanna order dinner or something?” I say into the silence of the living room.

“Well considering this technically is MY house, I say we eat my favorite pizza: a hot pepper pie from my favorite pizza joint. However, since you’re me, you’re gonna have to order.” I roll my eyes and open up my phone and see that Q has the pizza place’s number saved and on speed dial in his phone.

“Okay Q, c’mon dude you’re kidding me. Speed dial?” He gives a cheeky smile and shrugs his shoulders.

We order and eat the pizza and talk to each other about our experiences in the other’s body. Q got to experience the wonders of my sleep apnea, he told me how startled he was when he woke up with my mask on his face. I told him of how the cats wouldn’t leave me alone because they thought I was him, it got a hearty laugh out of him since he knows how uncomfortable they make me.

“Thanks for cleaning up my place Sal.” He says as we clean up our pizza mess.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. It’s hard to find time to keep things in line with our schedules, thought i’d help out a little.” He pauses for a moment and goes to play with his fingers and realizes he doesn’t have his usual ring to fidget with. He’s nervous and that was one of his tics, but I pretend not to notice and I wipe down the table.

“Sal, uuuuh... Weird question but did you clean my desk?” I know where he’s going with this.

“I did. Books in place, papers in stacks. Why?” I say innocently.

“There’s a... There’s a notebook... it’s for my therapist and stuff... sensitive info in there.” He’s sweating and his eyes are pleading that I don’t know anything. The guilt hits me harder than ever now, but I can’t do that to him, I don’t want to shatter that trust.

“I didn’t snoop around man, it’s none of my business and this is your space, I respect it even if i’m in your body.” His tensions seem to ease in that moment and his shoulders slumped to a relaxed position. I feel like crap lying to him like this, but if it means his comfort, then it’s a harmless white lie. I mentally make a promise that nothing I read would ever leave my memory, and that’s all it will ever remain to be: simple memories.

“Okay, thanks man. I’m gonna head back to your place and hope that when I wake up i’m surrounded by my cats and not a face full of apnea mask.” He jokes to me as he gathers his stuff to head back out.

“Make fun of my sleep apnea all you want, but now you know the pain I live with!” I joke with him as I let him out. We said good night to each other, and just like that I was left alone in the silence of Q’s home. It was late already so I figured I close this night out already and head to sleep.

I cleaned myself up and prepared for bed, slipping into a pair of pajama pants and brushing my teeth. I took one final look into the mirror hoping that when I woke up, I wouldn’t need a mirror to see his face. All I want tomorrow is to just give Q a hug as myself again.

I crawl into the sheet with the cats cuddled up against me. The cats have kind of grown on me today, dare I say that maybe I learned to love them a bit today. I close my eyes and shift around until I was in blissful rest.

When I woke up at last and opened my eyes, I saw as the husky rays of the sun shone through my window and the familiar hun of my sleep apnea machine filled my ears. I peel it off my face and rub off the sleepy sensation from my entire face. I lean over and grab my phone to see a text from Q waiting for me

We’re back in business baby!

Was all it read and I smiled to myself. I walked to the bathroom and was met with the delightful sight of my true reflection. It felt so good to be back in my own body, in my own house.

I head to the kitchen and fix myself up a griddled PB and J and sit at the table and eat with nothing but my thoughts to occupy me. Through that whole mess, I didn’t question the switch, I didn’t question why then. I only had one lingering question that seemed so insignificant:

What happened with Q and that lunch with Joe. I wonder if he found out some of my own sensitive information and didn’t say anything just like I had. Maybe one day I’ll be able to solve, but it just won’t be solved today.

———————————————————

A/N: Just wanted to say I loved playing around with this idea so much, that soon i’m gonna write this segment from Q’s POV ♪( ´▽｀)

[jazziehart]

Character Dissection [Rachel Berry]: Episode by Episode - Season 3B

Hello and welcome the finale of my Rachel Berry Character Dissection. Wow it’s been a long time coming and I seriously have enjoyed going over the first three seasons. I know there are more seasons to go over but I wasn’t as invested in the later seasons so I don’t really remember everything. I’m excited to end this series and start again with another character. If you guys have any input of who it should be please let me know. I probably won’t do Quinn since I’ve already made a lot of post dissecting her actions but if there’s another subject you’d like me to cover about her, I’m open to it. Anyway, we will be dissecting Rachel in the second half of Season 3 which is from Yes/No to Goodbye. Once again these are my opinions. I’m not the biggest Rachel fan so reader be warned if you are.

Let’s start off with the midseason premiere of Yes/No. In this episode the Glee Club is looking for the perfect song for Will to propose to Emma with. Rachel is seen thinking about Finn when the girls perform their number of ‘First Time Ever I Saw Your Face’. She also is unhappy during the episode because the finalists for NYADA have already been called back and she and Kurt have yet to have heard anything. She, Kurt, and Finn are comserating when Finn feels like he has nothing good going on in his life after finding out what really happened to his father. This is when Rachel sings ‘Without You’ to Finn reminding him of how much they love each other. The end of the episode is left off at cliffhanger of Finn proposing to Rachel, something no one expected, which is a storyline that pretty much drives this half of the season.

In the next episode of Michael, Finn’s upset because Rachel hasn’t given him an answer and she tells him she’s still thinking about it, especially since she hasn’t heard back from NYADA. She then confides in Quinn who tries to discourage her from getting engaged. Quinn believes it’s the wrong choice for Rachel who’s career is only just beginning and also believes Finn and Rachel are too young to make the commitment. I know many people speculate Quinn does this because she’s still in love with Rachel but honestly, I don’t think so. Quinn’s reasons are fairly rational and are something a FRIEND would advise another FRIEND on. Anyway after Quinn performs a puzzling song choice when she’s telling Rachel to let go and sings ‘Never Can Say Goodbye’ which is mostly about not wanting to let someone go. Her speech is amazing and she directs it towards Rachel once again telling her to let go and start her future. Kurt soon gets his NYADA letter and Rachel breaks down since not receiving hers feeling like she has no idea what her future holds. After performing with Finn she accepts his proposal, thinking Finn is her only future but everything changes when she gets her NYADA letter and quickly regrets her decision.

 Up next is The Spanish Teacher which is quite possibly the worst episode of Season 3. Once again this episode doesn’t focus much on the students which is why it’s my least favorite. Rachel’s major storyline is how she reveals to Kurt and Mercedes the fact that she and Finn are engaged, something both of them are very against but Rachel is insistent that this is the right call.

Moving on to Heart which is the Valentine’s Day episode. Love is in the air as Rachel and Finn reveal their engagement to the Glee Club which is not met with as much love as they would’ve hoped. Quinn and Kurt both are against the wedding think they’re too young with Kurt being the one to tell their parents. Rachel’s dad has previously met them at the school to pretend to give them their blessing. Finn gives Rachel a singing telegram from the God Squad which Santana uses to voice her support that ANYONE should be able to be happy in their relationship and asks the God Squad to sing a song to Brittany. Meanwhile Rachel and Finn have dinner with both of their parents which seems to be going well until Finn is to stay overnight. Things start off okay but Finn wants to use Rachel’s bathroom which she’s disguisted by and the two have a huge fight with Rachel not really caring about Finn’s future. They soon make up and head to the party at Breadstix but decide to move up their wedding so they could get used to one another.

Up next is probably one of my least favorite episodes of Season 3, even though it’s written well, On My Way. It’s my least favorite for obvious reasons but let’s just talk about it regarding Rachel. The episode starts with Rachel being threatened by Sebastian not to perform at Regionals saying if she does he’d release a photoshopped racy photo of Finn. Rachel, not wanting to let threats get in the way of their performances at Regionals, refuses to sit out again. This leads Finn to get pissed off at her. But soon all is forgiven when Karofsky attempts to commit suicide. It leads Finn and Rachel to have a real talk about how neither of them would ever do that. It also gives them the message that life is too short and they decide to move up their wedding to after Regionals. Quinn, who was resistant to coming at first later asks Rachel if she can come if it’s not too late. Rachel tells her it’s not and the two hug. As it’s time for the wedding Rachel wants to delay it until Quinn gets there wanting the New Directions family to be complete. Sadly, Quinn wouldn’t get there in time but instead got into a horrible accident, hence why I don’t like this episode. 

Another thing I want to speak on is how many shippers take the Quinn and Rachel scene from this episode as well as the deleted Bridesmaids shop scene as a sign that Quinn was in love with Rachel. Honestly, I can see where they get it from especially the way Quinn looks as she hugs Rachel but from what I could tell that was not the way it was intended to be. I feel like the writers unfortunately were trying to queerbait Faberry and ride them out for as long as possible to keep the fans hopes up. I think it’s not right to do that to crack shippers (crack shippers isn’t a bad term so don’t come for me. It’s a term meaning a non canon ship that people want together) and I sincerely dislike the show for doing that.

Moving onto Big Brother, Rachel in this episode is constantly feeling guilty about Quinn’s accident, blaming herself that it happened. The one thing that kind of annoyed me about this is how Rachel made it constantly about herself rather then obeying Quinn’s wishes for them not to make a big deal about the accident. Anyway besides that she like everyone else seemed to fawn over Blaine’s brother being in town and was taking his advice seriously since he made it (somewhat) as an actor. The other major storyline about Rachel is that Finn gets fed up with her about only talking about her future and not caring about his which leaves them in a bad spot in their relationship.

Up next is Saturday Night Glee-ver. Rachel doesn’t have too big of a storyline in this episode other than making up with Finn. They get conseuled by Emma which works and leads Finn to agree to go to New York leaving Rachel incredibly happy that she got her way.

Moving on to Dance With Somebody. Rachel’s biggest storyline in this episode is when she finds out Kurt was texting another guy and she got very upset about it saying it was like cheating on Blaine. Rachel later performs with Santana, something no one saw coming and the girls talk to Quinn after noticing how she and Joe were together after performing their duet. Quinn thinks she doesn’t have much of a chance due to her current situation of being in a wheelchair. Rachel soon goes to talk to Santana and tells her that they did well on the duet together and how much she wishes they wouldn’t have been enemies for so long and wants to make the last 42 days together count. She soon gives Santana a photo of her to put in her locker which Santana does.

Up next is Choke, which is one of Rachel’s most promient episodes since the title comes from what happens at her NYADA audition. Rachel has been preparing incredibly hard all week for the audition and wanted to ace her performance. However, she becomes concerned when Kurt decides to change his song last minute and offers to be his Christine onstage. Kurt however, goes against Rachel’s advice and gives his best performance to date. When it’s Rachel’s turn to audition, however, things go ary. She performs her go to song ‘Don’t Rain on my Parade’ and flubs on the lyrics. When she asks for a second chance Miss Tibedeaux, the NYADA faculty member seeing the auditions lets her but when Rachel flubs again and tries to start over, she won’t let her. Rachel tears up onstage begging for another chance knowing that she truly blew her audition. Rachel is still upset and tramatized a few days later knowing her chances of getting in based on her limited performance are slim. She felt like she lost everything and performs a ballad expressing her feelings, clearly emotional. 

Moving on to Prom-asaurus, yet another episode that fully frustrates me and it’s thanks to Rachel that it’s like this. I do feel sorry for her with what happened at NYADA but she acts like a spoiled brat who didn’t get her way in this episode. She gets irrationally mad at Finn for running for Prom Court with Quinn claiming he will ruin her senior prom by doing so, saying it would be just like when high school began for her. This is what leads Rachel to do one of my least favorite storylines, the anti-prom. Santana rightfully calls her out on what the anti-prom is really about. It’s Rachel throwing herself a pity party because one thing didn’t go the way she wanted it to. The anti-prom storyline is anti-climatic with Rachel walking out in her prom dress as Finn gets there and they end up going to the actual prom anyway. Rachel does end up apologizing to Quinn for being irriationally angry at her and said that becoming Quinn’s friend meant a lot to her and that she voted for her for prom queen. When Santana goes to get Quinn to count the votes she makes a comment for the Faberry shippers telling Quinn to stop making out with Rachel because they needed to crown her prom Queen.

Now for the second part I truly hate about this episode. Santana and Quinn just giving Rachel Prom Queen. It was Quinn’s idea to give it to her but my main problem is that Quinn has wanted that so badly for so long and quite frankly, she had a lot worse of a year than Rachel. But would the writers ever give Quinn the happy ending she deserved? Nope. Everything had to be handed to Rachel. Also the lines the writers made Quinn say about how she and Santana had “the ideal high school careers” literally in what way did Quinn have the ideal high school career? She got pregnant from rape, her family disowned her until her mom came around, she lost 2 boyfriends she cared about due to her mistakes, and not to mention she was currently still recovering from the accident only from a few episodes ago. It always made me blood boil when they would give lines like that to Quinn, especially since she went through quite possibly the most stuff out of all of the characters (I can also make an argument for Kurt). So seriously? Taking something away from her that this character deserved for a happy ending pissed me off. This is in no way Rachel’s fault but I have my suspisicions that Lea may have had an influence on this and honestly I hate nothing good ever happening for anyone other than Rachel. 

Anyway, moving onto Props. This episode Rachel is once again being a selfish bitch appreacating nothing from ‘winning’ Prom Queen. She acts like Tina’s meltdown over being underappreaciated is unjust and that she works so hard for everything she does. While Rachel does work hard all she does is minimize how Tina feels. Tina soon has a fantasy and again the writers annoy me by trying to make it seem like Tina was wrong and Rachel deserves everything. Tina then goes to help Rachel convince Carmen to see them at Nationals. The episode ends with Tina and Rachel singing a duet together and getting onboard the bus to head to Nationals.

Up next was Nationals. In this episode Rachel runs into Jesse who is the coach of Vocal Adrenaline. Jesse tries to taunt her about looking for Carmen but Rachel knows Jesse himself is feeling insecure about Vocal Adrenaline’s fate which he admits to. As Rachel performs her solo Carmen gets there which gives Rachel the confidence to perform well. Jesse later talks to Carmen himself saying that Rachel would be a great addition to NYADA thus showing he still cares and is part of why I still love him and Rachel together. The New Directions win at Nationals and everything ends perfectly for them. The New Directions also honor Will at the Teacher of the Year event with Finn and Rachel speaking on his behalf.

Finally, we end with Goodbye. In this episode, the Senior New Directions prepare to say goodbye to high school. Rachel looks back on her time at McKinley thoughtfully and is actually looking forward to marrying Finn. She also finds out that she’s the only one accepted to her school, another thing that pissed me off, why the hell didn’t the writers let Kurt get in after his killer audition? They let him get in mid season 4 since they needed him in New York but come on! Anyway she decides to deffer her acceptance a year and stay behind with Finn. Finn, however has other plans and pretends to be driving Rachel to the church to get married when in reality he’s sending her to New York to fill her dreams, breaking up with her. He didn’t want to hold her back. Rachel relucktantly goes on the train to New York, wondering what her future will hold.

Let’s talk overview. Rachel in this half honestly was horrible. Was it the worst she’s ever been? No. But honestly she’s still way too selfish. She originally only accepted Finn’s proposal thinking she had no future and started to regret it once she did. What kind of person does that? Also she constantly put down how others were feeling if it got in her way like what she did with Tina and even not caring about Finn’s future. Honestly, I know Finn and Rachel were a popular ship but I think this half proved that they weren’t right for each other. I felt like they were the most toxic they’ve ever been in this half of the season and it was a relief when they broke up in the finale. Honestly the later seasons I liked Rachel so much more. She grew up a lot when she left Lima and also had people and events that put her in her place. I don’t hate her character but there are so many things about her that rub me the wrong way especially in the last two seasons I discussed. I hope you enjoyed this character analysis. Let me know if there’s someone else you would want me to discuss or other topics for me to cover.  Be Kind, Jazzie

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Made Man

(ao3 story link)

A/N: HERE WE ARE. The story began with Jamie getting ready for a Reagan Family Sunday dinner and 40-some chapters later, it wraps up at another one. This is the last chapter of A Made Man, the third installment of The Penthouse series. What a damn ride this has been. Oof. Thanks for being here for it all.

Chapter 47.

“Uncle Jamie, that’s a pretty sick watch.”

I barely hear the observation from my nephew Jack across the dining room table. My gaze is fixed on the mountain of macaroni and cheese on my plate in front of me, the sight alone making my stomach turn.

“Hey Uncle Jamie—” Danny’s voice cuts through as he settles into his seat. “Jack likes your watch.”

“What?” I utter, glancing up. “Oh. Thanks.”

“That new?” My brother questions with a nod.

I twist my wrist to look at the watch Noble gave me, then clear my throat. “Uh, yeah.”

“Let’s be a little less focused on sick watches just before we say grace, huh?” My grandpa announces and I see Jack snicker with a look to Nicky at Pop’s choice of words. “Since you’re the birthday boy, how about you lead off?”

Suppressing a groan, I scoot closer to the table and rest my elbows on either side of my plate. “Since it is my birthday, I reserve the right to pass,” I decide. “Someone else.”

“Oh, boo!” Danny jeers. “You don’t get a pass.”

“You pass all the time,” I argue.

“Alright, I’ll start.” Erin announces.

My dad pipes up, “Somebody please.”

My sister clears her throat. “Bless us, O Lord—”

Clasping my hands, I tip my forehead down and rest it there, just praying to make it through dinner. 

After grace, as everyone’s passing dishes, I’m relieved, and a little hopeful I can tune out, when Nicky takes over the conversation.

“Was anyone else really moved by that sermon?” She announces, passing the requested salt and pepper over to my dad. “I thought it was so romantic.”

“Romantic?” Sean protests. “Gross, it’s church.”

“Not gross,” she contends.

“I thought it was very beautiful,” Linda indulges her.

“I went and looked up that quote Father Quinn used when he talked about loss and love,” Nicky tells the table, adjusting to pull a folded piece of paper from one of her pockets. “It’s not from scripture; it’s from a book by C.S. Lewis.” As she unfolds the note, she glances up at my father. “Is it okay if I read it, Grandpa?”

My dad inhales deeply through his nose and then offers her one of his tight-lipped smiles to humor her. “Have at it.” 

Nicky grins, straightening her shoulders. “In love,” she recites, “there is no safe investment. If you want to make sure of keeping your heart intact, lock it up safe in the casket of your selfishness--”

I scoff this unintended loud breath and hunch over my plate, as if I could somehow escape this. 

Slowly, she turns her gaze my way. “I’m not finished.”

“Your niece is trying to appreciate literature,” Danny taunts. “Do you mind?”

Acquiescing, I merely gesture to her to carry on.

“But in that casket,” she resumes. “It will change. It will not break, but instead your heart will become impenetrable. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is hell--”

“Alright--” Erin speaks up while the end of Nicky’s reading prompts looks from Danny’s kids.

My brother chuckles. “It’s a little deep for fried chicken night. That’s all.”

“Give me a break,” I mutter, reaching for my water. “Who gave the homily? Doctor Phil? Glad I missed it.”

“I really enjoyed it.” Nicky shrugs. “I think it’s so true. To love is to be vulnerable--”

“What are you talking about?” I hear the way my voice cuts harshly into her easy tone, but I’m too tired to come off any other way. “You’re too young to even know what that means, Nicky.”

“Well wait a minute--” she disputes. 

I lean in to look past her at my sister. “You gonna let her spout off about the dangers of love? I didn’t think that was a concept you would endorse.”

Erin just meets my gaze, pausing to draw in a thoughtful breath.

“It wasn’t meant to start an argument,” Nicky insists. “I was going to relate it to the job of being a police officer--”

“Yes, that sounds good,” my dad speaks up. “Let’s relate it to the job.”

“No, let’s relate it to Jamie,” Danny cuts in. “Since that got him all torqued up. What happened, kid? You forget to lock up your heart in the casket of selfishness?”

Nicky giggles at the jab.

I drop my fork and it clatters against the plate as I push back and get to my feet. Turning away from the table, I stalk off out of the dining room.

“Hey. Hey!” I hear my brother holler after me along with Erin who calls my name.

But I can’t listen to this shit. I’d rather sit and have to deal with with my grandpa gripe about those homosexuals appropriating the word gay. It used to mean happy!

I’m not sure where I intend to end up so I just make my way to the bathroom and shut the door.

Already I regret the dramatic storm-off because now I’ll be expected to provide an explanation. Plus that was shitty to do to Nicky.

But of all days, this has to be the one where someone initiates some damn discussion about heartbreak like a cruel joke they’re all in on. 

I pinch right between my eyes and take a deep breath. Fuck, I’m gonna throw up. 

My core seizes and it's only a moment later that I do.

***

After a few minutes, splashing water on my face, attempting something that comes off as normal breathing, I make my way back to the dining room.

“Jamie are you okay?” Nicky speaks up. “I’m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry, Nicky.” I sigh, holding onto the back of my chair where I stand. “I’m uh— I’m not feeling well. I think I need to—”

“Did you puke?” Sean wonders, prompting a look of disgust from my grandfather as he chews.

“Sean.”

“It’s your favorite dinner,” Jack adds. “Mac and cheese for your birthday.”

“Boys—” Linda leans in. “Uncle Jamie doesn’t feel well.”

I acknowledge my nephews. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

“Mom made a cake.”

“You don’t look so hot,” Linda notices. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

Deciding not to argue with Danny’s wife, I simply nod. “Yeah. Maybe that’ll help.” Then I turn and head for the staircase. I could try to make it home, but it’s highly likely I’ll throw up again or have some kind of panic attack behind the wheel. So I settle on hiding in my old room upstairs instead.

I never come up here. My childhood bedroom is now this half-transitioned guest room, but a few remnants — a Harvard pennant, along with framed prints of pictures I took at Joshua Tree, a camping trip I made the summer between undergrad and law school — still hang on the wall near my bed. The old Parking For Jets Fans Only metal sign has been hung up by the door for as long as I can remember. It’s weird how these things take you back in time. 

The tall bookcase in the corner displays a few diecast model cars Joe and I used to collect, books I loved in high school, and a stack of CDs next to my stereo. 

I sniff a soft laugh when I peruse the album titles, so distinctly an era that seems a lifetime ago. Sliding out the case for U2’s Rattle and Hum, I pry it open and fit the disc in the CD player. I set it to shuffle the songs and then turn to fall across the bed. 

I don’t know how I got here. It’s like I screwed up so many steps ago, I can’t pinpoint where. I could go farther back than the night I met Noble. 

I think about when I proposed to Sydney. I was twenty-six, deliriously self-righteous after three years in the bubble of ivy league law school, acing the bar exam and convincing myself I’d never wear the NYPD uniform. 

I don’t know what life I pictured for us. But it was an easy enough fit. 

And then my brother was killed. 

The devastation was so consuming I thought I’d never be capable of caring about anything after the loss of Joe. Since, I’ve had to find life with some other purpose. With that engagement in a sort of permanent limbo, I enrolled in the Police Academy. Because it was inevitable? Because I had something to prove? A calling to step up for Joe? Probably all of it. 

And if I never had — If I’d stayed in private practice, married Sydney — would I feel like this much of a fuck up? I’ve never second guessed leaving that path behind until now. 

All I know is that I wish I’d never met Noble Sanfino.

A light tap on the door draws my attention across the room. It eases open and I see Erin, lingering there with some hesitation. 

I simply turn my gaze back up to the ceiling. “What now?” I murmur.

“Jamie, what happened?”

Exhaling a pained, breathy laugh, I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

She steps in the room enough to close the door. “I take it you had a talk with Nick.”

“We’re done, Erin,” I tell her. “It’s over. So— Nice work.”

“Jamie.” She says my name again with this concerned shock and it’s such a fucking joke to me.

My head throbs and I just want this all to be something I never think about. 

“What do you mean it’s over?”

“I questioned him about whether he knew Tommy Messina. He doesn’t. But the reality is he can never be safe in New York so what’s the point? He ended it and he’s staying in Florida. There isn’t much else to explain.”

She comes closer, arms crossed over her chest and glances around the room. “That can’t be the only solution.”

“Well that was his solution so—”

“I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intent.”

Fuck off, I want to say. I sit up and put my feet on the floor. “Erin.”

“I like Nick a lot.”

I just shake my head and cough out this unamused laugh. “What does that matter now?”

“If I hadn’t called you with that information, would this have happened?”

I shrug. “It would have come to this point sooner or later. I guess we just didn’t want to face it until we had to.”

“So now what?”

I look at her like what the hell do you think. “I guess you can sleep at night without the threat of your car being set on fire. What do you mean now what?”

“You love him, though.” She says it quietly because this is a bizarre conversation we’ve never really had. 

If anything, her input on my relationships has only ever been her chiming in with smug, big sister commentary that I never asked for. 

“I’ll get over it,” I mutter.

She sits there a minute as if she’s contemplating her role in this. It doesn’t matter, though. What’s done is done.

Eventually, she softly attempts her next question. “Do you plan on coming out to Dad at some point?”

I glance at her, my brow furrowed. “Come out about what? No.”

She sighs when she figures that’s a dead end path and tries another way.  “There are options, Jamie. I mean you guys could live in Connecticut, that’d probably be a safer situation, and you could commute—”

Confused, I just shake my head. Don’t do this, don’t fucking problem-solve after that bullshit phone call this morning that prompted this whole fallout. As if I’m anywhere near the right frame of mind to look at the situation with some kind of reason.

Blankly, I merely offer, “I know.” And that nauseated feeling starts to spin in my head once more, but I go on. “That wasn’t the conversation though. We weren’t at a place where we’re like, ready to live together. I don’t know. It’s like, all of a sudden—”

Exhaling hard, the muscles in my chest seize. I try to tip my head back and breathe up at the ceiling but the air is trapped. So I lean forward at the waist where I sit on the edge of the bed and hang my head between my knees. 

I feel Erin’s palm up the center of my back. “Hey, hey, hey— It’s okay. Jamie, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have even considered—”

“Shh.” She cuts me off. “You need to breathe.”

There’s a tightness in my throat and I feel like I’m choking, Like my inhale doesn’t go anywhere. I can tell myself I’m sinking into an anxiety attack but my body doesn’t listen to the rationale. It’s terrifying that I know what it is and I can’t stop it. Telling myself I’m okay doesn’t make it relent. 

“Jamie,” Erin whispers. Then I feel pressure on my back like she’s resting her forehead there as she sits beside me, the weight steadying me. 

She’s had to do this before. But it hasn’t been since mom was really sick, there near the end, that I’ve felt the grip of panic on me this tight. Usually, I’m able to anticipate it, unwind it before I’m held captive, but not this time. 

“Try to breathe in for four seconds,” she says. “With me. Okay?”

Closing my eyes, I attempt to draw in a deep breath but I just cough out air almost like a sad laugh. “I can’t.”

“Okay two seconds,” she bargains.

I make myself sit upright and press my hands on the edge of the bed. “Goddammit,” I mutter in frustration.

“Try again. Let it be all you think about.”

Hanging my head, I inhale deeply, channel my energy into a steady breath that expands my back.

“Let it out just as slow.”

I do. But there’s still this hard squeeze like someone’s pressing just beneath my ribcage.

"See that was four seconds,” she murmurs. “Show-off."

"Don't patronize me," I manage.

Erin laughs softly and continues the steady back and forth path of her hand on my back. "Fine then as far as breathing goes, I've seen better."

Finally I exhale in amusement and just shake my head. I work on another breath.

I keep on like that for a few more, determined to follow the pattern — in for four and out for four, the sounds of it loud between my ears. It’ll pass. I can’t fight it, I have to just know I’ll get to the other side. But fuck, I don’t even want to. This will be over and Noble will still be gone.

After a few steady moments, Erin squeezes my shoulder.  "This song," she muses, letting the slow-building track of All I Want Is You set a soothing rhythm to the air I take in. "Remember when Joe and I took you to that U2 concert? You were what, you’d just graduated high school?"

Another gradual breath while I think about that night out in the city. "Yeah," I answer. "Danny was on modified assignment working The Garden."

Erin chuckles. "I need to remind him of that cushy little gig next time he tries to say the bosses are too soft on you."

I sit there and let the music sink through me. This song is so goddamn sad it hurts. First Nicky’s absurd to love is to be vulnerable speech. And now the lull of Bono’s haunting voice musing that all the promises we break, from the cradle to the grave, when all I want is you — everything is a joke. 

I focus on the memory of that night, years ago with Erin and Joe. When simple shit like going to concerts and walking around New York, our ears ringing and our voices hoarse, was enough of a thrill and not a lot else mattered. “We had nosebleed seats,” I recall.  “And Danny managed to get us down front."

"That was a pretty awesome night."

I breathe again and the sick feeling starts to dissipate. "Between that, and this room, it's like… I'm remembering another life." 

She glances up and around, seeming to consider the memories held in time here. "It sort of was."

I swallow hard and close my eyes. "Somewhere I went wrong, Erin."

She just turns her gaze to me and offers a quiet "Shh" worried I'll get worked up again.

"How is this where I'm at?"

"Jamie, don't look for answers now."

"I have to look for answers or I'm gonna start missing him like hell."

"So let yourself miss him."

I take another slow, deep breath as the heat beneath my skin begins to taper off. At this point, it’s like missing Noble is all I have the energy for. It’s all I can do to tip back across the bed once more and close my eyes. 

My empty heart dwindles its beat down to something that almost feels normal, leaving the slightest flicker of clarity, reminding me that my only control is over what I do next.

[sassasquashedgrapes]

Deep Love: Part One with Intro

Allow me to make an introduction to this fanfic.  I had written this like around 5 or 6 years ago and decided that it was finally time I settled down and got all my fan fiction and some original stories out to print in Tumblrverse coz hey, better late than never.

Glee has long been gone and I decided, why not just throw my hat in the ring for some fan fiction action and so here we are.....

Click below to read this. You might actually stick around for more.  Forgive me, the actual document when I made this included pictures, sadly they don’t work on mere copy paste and I dunno where to find the original files coz it’s been like forever years ago....

Let’s take a review shall we? 

At the start of her senior year, Quinn has dyed her hair pink, pierced her nose, started smoking, become friends with a group of outcast girls called the Skanks, and quit New Directions. Rachel asks her to come back to the glee club and Quinn refuses, though she is later seen secretly watching the glee club perform in the auditorium.

 When Shelby returns to Ohio with baby Beth, she offers Quinn and Puck the chance to become part of Beth's life, but insists that they both start acting more responsibly. Quinn goes back to being blonde and rejoins the glee club, but reveals to Puck that she's only doing it because she intends to win custody of Beth away from Shelby.

 In the second song, Control, she performs the opening speech, and then does backup vocals. In the third song, Man In The Mirror, she does back up vocals. When all their performances end, she seeks out Puck and then she hugs him. When the judges announce that they win, she is very excited and happy. Quinn reveals to Rachel that she isn't going to tell on Shelby because she loves Beth and it isn't in her best interest. She and Rachel admit they are sort of friends and she tells Rachel that she wants to attend the Yale School of Drama. Rachel offers her help if she needs it. In the Girls Bathroom, Quinn talks with Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany, encouraging them to re-join New Directions, but they have their doubts at first, but Quinn states she talked Mr. Schue and Rachel into agreeing that the Troubletones would have at least one number whenever they perform at competitions. In We Are Young Quinn has solo lines, then Mercedes, Brittany, and Santana join the song accepting Quinn's offer. This episode marks the ending of Quinn's Season Three antagonistic storyline so far.

 In Extraordinary Merry Christmas, Quinn is first seen performing back-up vocals during All I Want For Christmas Is You with Mercedes and the rest of New Directions as they decorate the Christmas tree in the choir room. Later, she is seen during Rory's performance of Blue Christmas and is later seated next to Kurt, while Rachel and Blaine sing their original song Extraordinary Merry Christmas. Later, however, we see that instead of being there for the filming of Glee Club's Christmas special, she is serving food

with Sam at the homeless shelter. He says she's gotten better since the previous weeks, and she agrees that she has gotten better and has stopped focusing on the things she doesn't have. Sam says he's glad Quinn turned her act around because she deserves good things, and she says she's trying her hardest to do so. Sue joins their conversation, telling them to be more greedy with their servings to the homeless, though Quinn says there isn't enough food. Later, when New Directions comes in the homeless shelter, she sings along with them to Do They Know It's Christmas? (Feed The World).

 In Michael, Quinn appears dancing and doing back-up vocals in Bad. During the dance partner sequence of Bad, she is partnered with Jeff the Warbler. Later, Quinn is approached by Rachel in the girls bathroom where Rachel asks for advice on what to do regarding Finn's proposal to her, as Quinn is the only person who she trusts to give an honest and thought-provoking answer. Before giving advice, Quinn tells Rachel about her acceptance to Yale, and is extremely excited by it. She then tells Rachel that she should leave her past behind and look towards the future, something that Rachel does not like to hear. However, Quinn persists that in order for her to have a bright future, she has to break it off with Finn. Quinn begins her solo of Never Can Say Goodbye, which is a tribute to all of her ex-boyfriends. In the choir room, the New Directions congratulate Quinn on her acceptance to Yale. Almost in tears, Quinn gives a monologue about how the New Directions have helped her along the way. Then, Quinn (along with the rest of New Directions) perform Black or White to Sebastian and the Warblers.

 In Heart, Quinn rejoins The God Squad (she seems to have left prior to Heart and after The Spanish Teacher à this is where the story arc between her relationship with Iain begins)  In Heart, she meets Joe Hart and is singing "Cherish/Cherish" with him, along with Mercedes and Sam, to the club. Later, she is seen in the choir room listening to Rachel and Finn while they are saying that they will get married; she opposes them along with Kurt; this causes them to be uninvited from the wedding, though Rachel says that he would have 'loved to have seen (Quinn) in a bridesmaid's dress'. She later dedicates Stereo Hearts to Rachel, along with The God Squad, because Finn asked and paid them to perform a song for Rachel. After Santana watched them doing Stereo Hearts, she pays and ask them to sing a song for Brittany. This causes Joe's to doubt if they should do it. After that, she talks with The God Squad about singing to gay people, because Joe's religion causes him to have doubts about it. At Sugar's Valentine's party, they sing Cherish/Cherish for Brittany, in which Quinn has a major solo. Lastly, she is seen dancing (with Joe and others) to Love Shack along with the other invited people.

 In On My Way Sue tells her that she is pregnant. Quinn then gives her some advice; then Quinn asks her if she can rejoin the Cheerios but Sue says no. She appears with The God Squad to talk about the attempted suicide of Dave Karofsky, and as she discusses it with Kurt she gets into an argument with him about it. Later, Quinn is seen with the other New Directions members talking about Dave's issue. She sings back-up vocals in Fly/I Believe I Can Fly and Here's To Us at Regionals. Later, she is seen with Sue again, and Sue tells her that at first she admired Quinn because she reminded her of what she was like when she was young; however, she then tells Quinn that the reason she admires her is because she is different from her. She then gives Quinn the cheerio's uniform. Subsequently, she sees Rachel and tells her that she supports her marriage to Finn, after asking if Rachel's performance of Here's To Us was directed towards 'Finn and only Finn', to which Rachel confirms that it was. At last, she is seen going to Rachel and Finn's wedding but she runs a stop sign, texting Rachel "On My Way" while driving, and is hit by a truck as the episode ends with "To Be Continued" rolling onto the screen.

 In Big Brother, Quinn approaches Finn and Rachel saying that though she is in a wheel chair, she is just happy to be alive and proceeds to race with Artie to the Choir room singing I'm Still Standing with Artie. She then tells the rest of the Glee Club not to feel sorry for her because she is okay and is positive that she will be able to walk again, making a promise to be able to sing and dance with the rest of them at Nationals.

Later while everyone is planning what to do for senior skip day, Rachel starts crying about Quinn being in a wheel chair, partially blaming herself but Quinn reassures Rachel that it wasn't her fault and hugs her. She also then suggests that for senior skip day, the New Directions should go to Six Flags.

 Later Quinn and Artie are seen with Artie encouraging Quinn to make it up a steep ramp on the school campus, cheering her on all the way and she accomplishes the task. Artie then comes up with an idea on how they should spend senior skip day together at a skate park where others like them like to go.

 Quinn later catches Finn while he is texting and walking in the hallway and lectures him on how its not a good idea. She also tells him that she and Artie have plans for senior skip day so she is not able to make it to Six Flags.

 At the skate park with Artie, Quinn is amazed at all the people there that are not letting their handicapped situations get in their way. She and Artie sing at the park. Near the end, Artie brings up that Quinn should maybe get used to being in a wheelchair to which Quinn says is temporary and that she will be able to walk again. Artie asks her what if she isn't able to walk anymore but Quinn is adamant on being able to walk again.

 In an interesting twist to further add sting to her wounds, I inserted the scene where she meets Lily, Iain’s psychotic ex-girlfriend and confronts her. She does end up standing (err..bad choice of word) her ground, leaving Lily to confuse her that whatever transpired between her and Iain are ‘far from over’.

 At school while Quinn is trying to get something out of her locker, some of her books fall out and Joe Hart helps her with them. He then walks with her to class and Quinn is grateful for his company. Joe than tells Quinn that he is praying for her, something she is thankful for until she finds out that he isn't praying for what she thought he was praying for and gets upset. She apologizes and invites Joe to New Direction's Booty Camp in the auditorium where he then joins New Directions.

 In Dance With Somebody, Quinn is approached by Joe where he asks her if he could attend and help her with her physical therapy. They later sing Saving All My Love For You together which can be notably seen as them singing the song to each other. During this song, there are scenes where Joe is helping Quinn with her physical therapy and there is a moment between them. Later in the girls bathroom with the rest of the ND girls, the girls point out how intimate Joe's and Quinn's duet was to which she states that he is not into her like that because at her therapy session when it looked as if he would kiss her, he pulled away. Later in the episode during another scene where Joe was helping Quinn with her therapy sessions, Joe talks about how much he likes Quinn and would maybe give up on his religion just to be with her, something Quinn tells him not to do. They talk about what kind of relationship they have and they are unsure of what kind of relationship it is. She is later seen with the rest of New Directions towards the end singing, My Love Is Your Love happily.

 In Prom-asaurus, Quinn is first seen at physical therapy with Joe, where she uses a parallel bar to assist her with walking. Joe cheers her on but she ends up slipping and falling causing Joe to rush to her side but she is fine because she is laughing. Joe talks to her about showing everyone that she can walk but she states that she wants to keep it quite for a bit to surprise everyone later when she can walk completely once again. As the episode progresses, Quinn is shown to be running for prom queen with Finn running for prom king along side her, something Rachel is not happy about at all. In the Choir room while Brittany explains the theme for senior prom, she announces that Quinn and Santana are in charge of counting the votes for prom king and queen because though they are both running for prom queen, they don't trust the other one so they will keep the other in check. Later on, while Finn is talking to Quinn about prom, a girl approaches Quinn saying that she finds her to be an inspiration, something that Quinn plays on. At prom, Finn walks into the girls' bathroom and sees Quinn standing, he is upset that she didn't tell anyone and accuses her of using her being in a wheelchair as an excuse to get more votes. Quinn begs Finn to stay and during Love You Like a Love Song, Finn gets tired of what he believes is an act and yells at Quinn to stand up and walk causing Joe to come to Quinn's defense. After pushing Joe away at one point Finn bends down to grab Quinn and, presumably, force her to stand. Finn storms off and Quinn has a worried expression on her face. Quinn and Rachel talk about how in the beginning Rachel viewed Quinn as this amazing and beautiful girl and how that veiw has stayed the same but with Quinn being more compassionate. When the time to count votes come, Quinn and Santana find out that Quinn beat her by one vote. Quinn voices that even though she had dreamed of this moment, she doesn't feel any different and the two come up with an idea to give the prom queen crown to Rachel. At the end of the episode, Santana and Quinn sing Take My Breath Away where Quinn stands up during the middle of the song, something everyone is surprised and elated about.

 In Nationals, Quinn and Tina are asked to take over for Mercedes in the Trouble Tones after Mercedes gets sick from eating a bad burrito. This is something Quinn is unsure about but is encouraged by Mr. Shue to do it. Later while everyone is practicing, Quinn is seen to be having trouble with the steps to the dance numbers for the performance. When the competition is about to start and everyone is getting ready to perform, Mercedes comes in feeling a lot better and Quinn sees this as a chance to get out of taking over Mercedes' part but Mercedes insists that Quinn and Tina still perform with the Troubletones. Behind the curtains, Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, known as the Unholy Trinity, have a moment together. Quinn performs Edge of Glory with the Trouble Tones and Tina without trouble. Near the end of the episode, during We Are The Champions Quinn gives Mr. Shue a hug and kiss on the cheek. Quinn hugging Rachel in the season finale episode.

 In Goodbye, she is seen performing the song the graduating members sign to the non graduating members, You Get What You Give and is sadden by the fact that she has to leave her friends. She enjoys the song the non graduates sing to the graduates, In My Life. She later has a voiceover of her high school experience where she sees Puck struggling to study. She talks to Rachel about their friendship in the girl's bathroom. At her house, she helps Puck study and gives him words of encouragement and tell him she loves him as well as a kiss. In Coach Sue's office, Quinn tries to return her cheerios uniform but Sue tells her to keep it. Sue and Quinn talk about how much Quinn has changed and grown up over the years and Quinn tearfully hugs Sue and says that she will miss her. She graduates and near the end is seen saying bye to Rachel while hugging Santana.

 Quinn’s Personality:

 When first introduced, Quinn was the ultimate snarky mean girl. Popular, beautiful, and a complete snob, and was admired by every single boy in the school (not to mention everyone else), Quinn made certain that everyone around her knew who was top dog She feels that being popular is the most important thing and as a cheerleader, she constantly went out of her way to demean those whom she didn't like, and was willing to do whatever she could to demonstrate her superiority. Furthermore, as president of the Celibacy Club, Quinn also revealed herself to be an extreme borderline Bible-thumper, preaching her faith at random periods. Aside from being cold and judgmental, Quinn was also extremely manipulative. She seemed to view anyone and everyone as a potential enemy or pawn to be used. Willing to lie and cheat, Quinn would do anything and everything she could to make sure things worked out in her favor, no matter how they affected others. She went so far as to convince Finn that he was the father of her baby. Quinn is also very petty and easily angered by jealousy, and would do what she could to exact revenge  

 At home, meanwhile, Quinn played the role of "Daddy's Little Girl", always being as sweet and polite as possible, and doing everything she could to hide from her WASP parents all the 'sinful' things she might be doing. After discovering that she was pregnant, however, Quinn began her transformation, thanks, in large part, to the support from the Glee Club.

 Since the beginning, Quinn has had a habit of manipulating Finn. During most of their relationship, whenever the pair of them began to get physically intimate, Quinn would abruptly stop and ask that they pray instead. Although Finn very much wanted to sleep with Quinn, she always refused due to her religious beliefs. Ironically, Quinn ended up having sex with Noah Puckerman when he got her drunk (with wine coolers) and seduced her, resulting in her becoming pregnant. Rather than admit to the truth, Quinn lied to Finn and claimed the baby was his.

 It is also shown that Quinn used to be the same type of person she regularly teases. Before eighth grade, she went by Lucy, was overweight, and a brunette. The other children called her Lucy Caboosey. Quinn took up ballet, gymnastics, and cheerleading to help lose weight. When her father was transferred to Lima and got a raise, Quinn asked her father for a nose job, and then dyed her hair blonde, and asked her parents to refer to her by her middle name; Quinn. She still seems to enjoy bullying Rachel, but she does not seem to go out of her way to bully anyone else.  

 In fact, she seems more empathic towards those who are bullied such as Sam, due to the fact she remembers vividly how it feels. She seems more intent on coming to terms with her prior life, and wants to rebuild herself. This has caused her to be reluctant to start a relationship with Sam, for fear for falling back into old habits regarding men. Quinn is also being forced to act more aggressive than before, due to her continued rivalry with Santana. Her personality has become meaner after her transformation. In the last episode of Season 2, Quinn had a breakdown, crying that she just wanted someone to love her.

 Trivia:

·       She is a Christian and almost always wears a gold cross necklace

·       Usually wears baby-doll dresses. But after her car accident, she wears pants (Trousers)

·       Says that texting while driving is the stupidest thing she's ever done, besides sleeping with Puck

·       Quinn has lived with at least five people in her life. First her parents until Ballad, next Finn from Ballad through Sectionals, then Puck from Sectionals through Funk, then Mercedes from Funk through to Journey, but she lives with her mother from Journey onward

·       Has had three boyfriends on the show and has cheated on two of them (Finn and Sam) with another one of her future or ex-boyfriends (Finn with Puck, and Sam with Finn).

·     �� Her MySpace name is 'SkySplits'.

·       She can play the piano!!  (But of course not as well as Iain ^_^ )

·       Her cold stare and raised eyebrow is said by both her portrayer, Dianna Agron and the show's creator, Ryan Murphy, to be a slight homage to Bette Davis' character, Margot Channing in "All About Eve".

·       She gets angry when she is drunk

·       She has been single for a whole season. (Season Three) à possibly Iain’s involvement J

·       (Between On My Way and Big Brother), Quinn’s accident caused her to have leg paralysis.  This is because a Spontaneous Spinal Epidural Hematoma was found in her routine MRI scan. Iain voluntarily covered for her immediate surgery by providing her the best team of Neurosurgeons; he personally paid for the doctors’ airfare, accommodations, professional fee with overtime pay. Despite being rejected by Quinn, he also hired a renowned Rehab doctor who has been keeping close tabs with her progress and reports regularly to him, thus he was able to make it to Prom-asaurus. Iain never tells her the extent of his contribution to her operation and her rehab sessions.  All this is revealed when Quinn meets Iain’s great grandmother, Genevieve.

·       Quinn speaks some French, hence she was able to partially understand some of the conversation between Iain and Chelsea.

·       Because of her operation, Quinn’s tattoo of Ryan Seacrest was grossly disfigured.  She had it removed as a graduation present from her parents.

·       Iain stayed a total of 3 days with Quinn during her confinement.  He barely slept as he watched over her.  Amy, Quinn’s ICU nurse is the only person who is immune to Iain’s good looks and calls him a ‘bother’.

·       Iain finds out about the accident from Quinn’s mother, Judy when she calls him during a business meeting where he abruptly leaves.

·       The love story prologue is during the Season 2 Finale: New York.  

·       The storyline when Quinn is accepted to Yale and meets Iain is during Michael (Season 3 Episode 11).  In Spanish Teacher (Episode 12 Season 3), Iain lives with her thus further complicating things.  God Squad is also formed sometime before Spanish Teacher and after Michael, as Quinn uses this as an excuse to meet Neil, Iain’s younger brother. Iain leaves Ohio during the time of Heart, which explains why Neil is no longer present during the show,s first meeting with Joe and God Squad.

·        Episode dates are as follows: Michael (occurs late January), Spanish Teacher (February 7), Heart (Feb 14) Hence, spanning almost 2 weeks.

·       On My Way (Feb 21) and Big Brother (April 10)

·       Prom-asaurus happens during May (May 8 to be exact). Almost 3 months after Quinn’s accident when Iain returns to Ohio one last time to tell her how he really feels about her.  He looks slightly disheveled because he had just left from a Global Trade Meeting, he found himself asking several times what he was doing, what compelled him to walk out during the event to leave several people who needed his opinion to take the first available flight to Ohio, how he managed to endure sitting in the only available seat where he was sandwiched between a grossly obese man who smells like salami and a woman with an irate baby who cried the entire flight, he also asked why he jerked the first person out of the backseat of a taxi because he was afraid he’d get there too late.

·       The song Quinn and Iain dance to is called “Science & Faith” by the Script and was sung as an acoustic cover duet by Puck and Tina.  Their story concludes at an actual concert of the Script in New York where the song is played again.

·       Iain’s true identity is revealed when Quinn sees his cover featured story on Newsweek during her train ride to Connecticut where a girl passenger compares him to Christian Grey, the titular character of 50 Shades of Grey where the concept of Iain was roughly based from.

 ·       That’s some serious Bling!: The bracelet “wrist corsage” Iain puts on Quinn’s arm during their dance is called the Osieaux de Paradis (Birds of Paradise) 2011 collection by the luxury brand Van Cleef & Arpels.  It’s a craft bracelet set in white gold and features pink sapphires and a medley of diamonds weighing a total of 8.64cts and costs roughly US $148,000.  Iain bought the bracelet while he was in London because the color of the stones reminded him of the nightgown Quinn wore while he watched her sleep.  

 ·       It is later revealed that he bought the entire Birds of Paradise by Van Cleef & Arpels set after Prom-asaurus.

·       The third dumbest thing Quinn confesses to doing was almost letting Iain go.

·       Since Prom-asaurus, Quinn and Joe’s relationship fizzled.  We can then conclude that this was because Quinn also starts to admit to herself that she has feelings for Iain as well.

·       During Graduation, Quinn tells Puck she loves him, this is because he is the father of Beth and he will always have some part in her life even if it means that they weren’t meant for each other in the end. When she kisses Puck to boost his morale, there’s a double ended meaning as this also signifies the conclusion of their tumultuous relationship.  It also shows that Quinn has finally matured and moved on

·       From the time that Iain and Quinn are to see each other since Prom-asaurus that’s a total of one year and a half.  Iain does not contact Quinn as he wants her to admit that she loves him.  They get their answer after in an accidental meeting in a concert in New York.  This is long enough for Quinn to also get over the hurt she felt when she found out that Iain was a billionaire tycoon during her train ride to Connecticut in (Graduation Season 3 finale).   She then meets Dean David Pendleton who told that she did not earn the Dramatic Arts scholarship but assured her that her tuition was paid in full by a ‘mysterious benefactor’ who auctioned off the sportscar he won in a silly bet a few years ago. (Iain sold his beloved McLaren sportscar and used the auction money).  She forgives him after being confronted by Genevieve, Iain’s dragon scary great-grandmother and she learns the shocking truth about Iain’s financial involvement for her operation and recovery after her accident.

 Songs used:

·       In My Head, Jason Derülo

·       High Heels, Ryuichi Sakamoto

·       Liebesträume No 3 (Dreams of Love), Franz Lizt

·       Polonaise in G minor, Frederic Chopin

·       Polonaise in G Flat Major, Frederic Chopin

·       Nocturne in C Minor, Frederic Chopin

·       Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor Adagio Sostenuto, Sergei Rachmaninoff/ All by Myself, Eric Carmen feat. Celine Dion

·       Silence is Easy, Starsailor

·       Do You Realize?? , The Flaming Lips

·       Beautiful (7” Inch Canny Mix), Mandalay

·       Walking on a Dream (Kids at the Bar Remix), Empire of the Sun

·       Famous, Scouting for Girls

·       Science & Faith, the Script

·       Eve, Apple of My Eye; Bell X1

·       Deep Love, Mandalay

·       Midnight City, M83

 Note: Iain and Quinn’s storyline transpires somewhere after the Michael episode and ends before the valentine special, Heart (where Quinn was visibly absent and sans melodrama, thus creating the perfect scenario explaining her ‘missing scenes’.

 I got inspired to write it around the time of the finale of Season 2 because I felt that she needed her own happy ending.  And let’s face it, I’m a hopeless romantic, so I figured that perfect special guy for her wasn’t hanging around the halls of McKinley High.  (Who doesn’t want a rich, handsome young billionaire?)

 Anyway, I thought New York would be a great prologue to go with and I’m assuming this lovestory of theirs takes around a total of 3 weeks duration, which cuts short when Iain finds Neil and has left Lima during “On My Way”.

 This scene (Season 2 Finale: New York) was what started it all and inspired me to write this story.

 “Or maybe she’s just distracted by the awesomeness of New York.”—Rachel Berry

 …I’d like to believe that guy on the left was what kept her distracted.  I know I would be too if I were Quinn..

   When Quinn gets into an accident, Iain returns only to be pushed away by an angry Quinn.  Despite Quinn’s wishes for him to leave her alone, he comes back just in time to witness   the progress of her therapy in Prom-asaurus and tells her he’s in love with her and that he’s willing to wait forever for her.  The epilogue takes place when Quinn is in Yale.

 Poor Quinny, you can stop crying because you’re about to have a very nice happy ending J

It’s funny because I started Iain off as a ridiculously rich tycoon businessman who was also a talented pianist that wanted to be a music composer.  Fast forward some months later while I still in the middle of writing this fanfic, I came across the popular book called 50 Shades of Grey, and to my surprise, there were so many things that struck me because both male protagonists had shared a lot of qualities that I found delightful and great for this story....well except for the BDSM kinky part.  

 “Little Red Orange Coat girl” couldn’t stand staying in the hotel room longer listening to Brittany sing a jingle about a cup.  She looked pretty rarin’ to leave and explore New York and I’m sure the men below who’ve inspired me to write Iain seems like a very, very legit reason.

  I even would like to think of him as part Damon Salvatore (after all, Rachel Berry did mention him), Spanish male model Andres Velencoso, Josh Hartnett’s character from August, Christian Grey, and Younghusband brother.  It’s a hard mix, I know, but I had so much  fun figuring out how that was gonna work and I’m glad to think that I’ve done it successfully so. I have to admit that Iain’s name does sound like Christian’s even down to the surname but I swear that it’s purely coincidental!

  “You can stop with the waterworks, girl.  Have you seen the dreamy men that have inspired the author to create the man of your dreams?” – Auntie Santana.  

(Scene taken when Quinn starts crying and wanting someone to love her………Wish granted in five…four….)

 Project: Becoming Iain Hargreave

(tsk, tsk….Lucky Quinn)

 I figured Iain is a much tamer, saner version but just as equally captivating that he doesn’t come off boring. Plus the story of a man who built a company around a website in these very uncertain economic times, really piqued my curiosity.  Iain’s character was actually more centered around Josh Hartnett’s character in the Indie movie, August, where he plays Tom Sterling, the fast paced, smooth talking leader of the e-commerce revolution.  Aside from the hard, party boy and shrewd businessman exterior, Hartnett manages to make Tom likable, vulnerable even that he has an Achilles heel for some unrequited relationship that never worked out because of the sacrifices he had to make in order to save his empire.  I felt that Iain should share the same qualities, but with a far more complex depth that screams tortured society boy, self-made billionaire alpha male.

Iain Hargreave arrives at McKinley High initially as a substitute teacher, but is moved to teach at the Night School as his good looks serve more as a distraction to the female students.  He temporarily replaces Brad the pianist for the Glee Club (yes, there is actually a guy who plays the piano for New Directions).  Not much is known about the young, handsome and charismatic pianist except that he unwittingly becomes the object of most of the girls’ attention.  Quinn Fabray is peeved because Iain is her supervised guardian/tutor for her ticket to a Yale Scholarship.

   Though try as she might to do anything to push him away, their paths are inevitable. Not only does she have to see him at glee club practice she also sees Iain at home since he’s also living with her. Feeling as if both need to reconcile their differences before things turn ugly, they form a temporary truce, at least for appearances sake. Throughout the course of the first few episodes of the season, it can be shown that though they claim to dislike each other, they are very much attracted to each other.  Other fellow Glee members are aware of this however refuse to mention it with the exception of Rachel, who points it out to Iain when she needed his help composing a song for sectionals .  Finn also is annoyed with Iain, because he notices how mean he is with Quinn, but they form a truce as Finn becomes aware of the attraction between his ex-girlfriend.  He then tells Iain to promise him that he wouldn’t hurt her because the last thing Quinn needs is a broken heart after what he did to her.

 Little does everyone in McKinley know that Iain faces his own internal conflict.  His sole purpose to arriving to McKinley was to look for his long, lost brother who was separated when their father divorced their mother.  Despite his posing as a person of middle class, he is extremely wealthy, having come from a school that has Prince Charles as an alumnus and being raised in cities like London and New York. His great grandfather composed a hit Christmas song and the jingle of the Coke theme, he’s been receiving the royalties and used the money to invest in computers and batteries for cellular phones which the amount has quadrupled making him one of Forbes Richest People Under 21.  He also studied Business Management in Harvard with a minor in Computer Sciences but dropped out a few months before his graduation as he saw that there was no point in doing so as this was never his interest and that he made off with more money than all what his professors made combined with life interest.  

 Iain is also very athletic, highly intelligent and is fluent in Mandarin, French, and Spanish.  He had a girlfriend, Lilly, (who is part Chinese and Dutch, which explains why he can speak Mandarin) who became a model/actress and left him to pursue her career.  He shows signs that he’s also capable of destructive behavior such as nearly getting himself expelled after “mooning” the Duchess of Cambridge during his school’s graduation, where he had graduated top of his class and came to school so stoned that he couldn’t remember getting onstage but knew that after he showed off his bum, Kate Middleton wasn’t offended and seemed to have enjoyed the show. In reality, Iain felt no remorse when his girlfriend left as he felt that he had nothing in common with her.  He only did the things that at the time he thought was expected out of him. Apparently, Quinn Fabray isn’t the only one person who likes to create appearances for the sake to fool other people.

·       *                *

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t bored.  He couldn’t even remember the last time he ever had as much fun as the last two weeks that transpired.  He had written off that finding his brother was going to be a challenge, and perhaps a tedious chore.  Who knew he was going to end up enjoying himself and have an amazing time during the entire stint.  It baffled him and didn’t make sense at all.  It hit him suddenly that he hadn’t been bored.

 There was something about Quinn that Iain couldn’t place. With her innocent sexiness, clear intelligence, wit, and vulnerability that’s got him hooked.

 For the past twenty four years not to mention that he’s been working his ass off like a dog since he took over his own company, boredom was a part of his life that he had treated it like an occupational hazard. Some people got allergies, contact dermatitis, he suffered from inevitable amounts of ennui.  He had been so used to it that these past few days have felt like a band-aid had finally been removed.

 Of course, no one knew that he suffered from this problem. Iain had learned long and hard that whining was for losers.  Genevieve Rolf-Stuart had taught him that, when she berated and publicly humiliated him for crying when he was had first moved to England when he was less than five years old because he missed his mother.  She had done the same thing and worse when he was an angry preteen who had constantly gotten himself into fights and came home beaten and bloodied up. She sent him to Scotland in hopes that he would straighten up, which of course, he had.

 He would never do that again, he shuddered.  He had moved on, erased whatever painful memories transpired during his parents’ separation and their nasty divorce, he had gotten the chance to prove himself and succeeded.  He done everything a man could only dream to achieve and he hadn’t even reached his 25th birthday.

 Here he was, with everything he’d ever wanted.  And if sometimes when it got to be too much of the same old, same old, Iain sucked it up and shut his mouth.  Faking being on top of the world was pretty easy especially when people already accepted that fact in your life, he mused silently as he gazed intently at the huge window that had overlooked Manhattan in his large office.

 He tried to remember when he had last laughed, like in really laughed out of the sheer heck of it?  He couldn’t remember.  Until that time when he and Quinn shared their time together in iHOP and her obvious jealousy with other women’s attentions to his looks had tickled something deep in his gut that he couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a simpleton.

 Quinn was like a breath of fresh air.  She was anything but boring, her reaction towards him were genuine.  Most of the time he knew she had kept a mask to hide her vulnerability.  He saw that when he walked in one of those night classes she stubbornly insisted to attend during his first week in Ohio.  He also saw the regal, imposing way she carried herself when he accompanied her during Glee club practice.  She’d put up this image of being a flighty, spoiled, manipulative queen bee, but Iain knew better.  If he hadn’t seen her looking so sad in that lobby in New York at his hotel, if he hadn’t seen that vulnerable lonely girl who looked like she needed love or at least could use a hug, he probably wouldn’t have given her the time of day.  But he did, and when she looked back at him, all wide-eyed like a child being told that Christmas had come early, it hit him like a thunderbolt and gave a jumpstart to his cold unfeeling heart.  He’d seen the same looks women gave, but he could never recall any one of them who made him feel like as if he’d given her a gift.

 He really should forget about her, he shook his head.  He knew that she was too young and still had to experience life because that is what people her age do.

 And here he was, sitting on his office, two weeks passed by since Ohio and he could think of little else but her.  Hell, he couldn’t even stop thinking about her.    

   *                *                *

Prologue: Quinn New York City a year before....

 Everyone is excited for Nationals.  The whole feel of New York City, the bright lights, the glamour, Broadway, and the fact that Rachel Berry was stupid enough to purchase tickets from a homeless guy just made my day.

 This would have been easier if I didn’t get to see that dumb look on Finn’s face whenever he’s with Rachel.  Sometimes, I do wonder what I ever did see in him.   But right now, I feel like something that had been rightfully mine has been taken away from me.

 To tell you honestly, I think I’ve been feeling a lot like that for some time, though I refuse to analyze this part during this entire trip.  New York definitely is my ticket out of Lima, Ohio.  I scan the interior of the hotel we’re staying at, the Intercontinental. Not as grand as the Waldorf, but with the budget New Directions has I’m even pleased that we’re at least staying somewhere with a three star rating.  Mr. Schuester is busy making the room arrangements and you can bet Kurt is going to be bunking with us tonight despite the Boys and Girls division line.

 Everyone is busy and the mood is cheerful as we all try and settle in the lobby.  I steal looks at Finn and Rachel and something uneasy settles.  They’re happy, so together.  Why can’t I for once have something like that?  A few months before the whole teen-mom issue, I had it all. I was the untouchable head of the Cheerios Quinn Fabray, didn’t I deserve at least something after all I’ve been through?

 I feel like the universe is telling me something.

 Then it hits me.  Like a tidal wave of tsunamic proportions, I see a tall dark-haired handsome young man sauntering in the lobby in a dark grey suit, white linen shirt and dark navy blue silk tie that contrasts his bronzed skin and dark, almost black brown hair.  On his back, is a black expensive leather messenger bag that slings carelessly on his shoulder like it was meant to hang stylishly.  His entire ensemble looks expensive, trendy age appropriate and custom-fit for a business executive with an edge.  He also looks to be a lot older; I’m thinking he’s in his early to mid twenties. Then, as if the fates wheeled in my favor, he turns his head towards my direction.

 It’s when our eyes meet I felt as if time stopped.

 The intensity of our deadlock makes me only aware of the beating of my own heart and my breathing.  

 I am also aware that he has stopped in midstride and looks at me with an expression that borders between curiosity, intrigue, and something else indefinable at the moment.

  I am faintly aware that I can also hear Jason Derülo’s “In My Head” blasting through the speakers of Mercedes’ headphones.  I boldly keep staring as he resumes his stance and approaches towards the lobby. His dark hair matches the tanned, angular handsome face that is a bit flushed, as if he just jogged a block away to the hotel.  

 Suddenly at the back of my mind I start to wonder if the tan is a result from staying out in the sun for prolonged periods or is it slight hint of a mixed race somewhere distant down his family tree.  Perhaps Spanish or Greek, judging by the shock of dark brown, almost black hair that compliments his tan.  I focus on his eyes instead because the thought of him being tan all over is a dangerous distraction.  Even from a distance I can tell you the color of his piercing almond-shaped eyes because that electric blue Carribean sea color is a striking contrast to his tanned, angular face.  I can also tell you that he’s also physically fit because the suit he’s wearing shows off a body that women would love to know what’s underneath. My mouth suddenly feels dry as I think how those muscles ripple underneath that long, lean body. He then leans his head a little with a hint of a smile on his chiseled lips, almost as if he was thinking if we have ever met.  Though I sincerely doubt this particular Adonis would ever be caught dead in a place like Lima, Ohio.

 “Quinn!” Santana breaks the deadlock.  “We have to go, Mr. Schue’s looking for us.  What are you looking at?”  She checks out the direction where I’m staring but doesn’t seem fazed like as if she doesn’t notice the gorgeous young dark haired man who made a beeline towards the reception lounge and is now talking to the concierge.

“Nothing.” I tell her as I grab my luggage and hull it.  I wait as Schuester goes on and drones about forming a line.  Is this guy for real?  He treats us like a bunch of kindergarten kids.

 I give myself a mental shake and scan the lobby again, but the guy I’m looking for is gone.

   Chapter 1: Iain

Present day.

 Where am I?

That was the first thought that crosses my mind the moment I open my eyes.  I wait for the hangover, but when I realize that it isn’t there, I scan the room.  It is a small, compact, neat space with dark blue curtains that complements the light blue gray carpet.  I wake up in my boxers (though I don’t mind sleeping on my birthday suit) and find that the double bed is adorned with a matching navy, black and gray sheets.  

 I flick my wrist automatically to check for the time. When I see that I no longer possess my Rolex, the thought comes crashing back with a painful memory that is even worse than any bloody hangover I’ve had whether it be at a New York nightclub or a night out partying (with a D) in Chelsea, London.

 I’m in Ohio.

 My name is John Maximiliain Charles Sheridan Hargreave. I’m 24 years old and my life is a complete fucking mess.

 As it were, it’s just me and the music.

 Music has always been a big part of my life.  When I was 3, my grandfather was a staunch believer in the Suzuki theory.  He taught me how to play the piano by getting me a small Weinstein the size of a Shetland pony and in less than a week, I could play Solace from the Robert Redford movie the Sting.  John William Hargreave, despite his billionaire status was a still regular bloke from North Carolina who had an uncanny talent in creating musical jigs. They’re what we Brits call theme songs. At the age of 20, he created the ever popular Christmas song “Santa’s Reindeer Rocket” which to this day still receives heavy airplay and not to mention heavy royalties.  I’ve been to FAO Schwarz and they’ve played that bloody song like it was their Christmas anthem.  Which I hate to brag, it is.  On top of that, he also created the ditty used in the Coke commercials, which is still popular to this very day.  

 I was really close to Pop (a name I pegged out for my granddad). My parents married when they were too young and my mother had an affair with a social climbing horseman, while my father made millions off for mass producing defunct spy cameras for home use. I’ve been raised by almost anyone who bothered, so that left my grandfather who still enjoyed playing the piano despite his arthritis.  He was a remarkable man with a keen sense and steady hands which he claimed he would’ve probably even had been a surgeon, if things were different.

 In other words, apart from my obvious sheltered life, Pop was what the yanks called a blue collar sort.  He grew up poor in a small town but after serving in the war and going to Yale to pursue a business course, where he met my rich, socialite heiress grandmother, Constance.  He doubled the family fortune by investing in successful stocks which are still worth a lot to this present day.  

 In spite of the working-class stigma, my great-grandfather turned to music as his source of comfort and created the most memorable Christmas jig to exist during his time.  He wasn’t dim-witted either, he patented the song and copyrighted everything before any producers could get their greedy hands on it.  He dabbled in music by telling me stories of how he snuck in to Jazz bars when it was considered taboo for a white man to hang around blacks.  He even helped the career of bigtime jazz artists of which I won’t mention as it’s a long list, but heckuva prominent one if I ever did recall. In other words, my grandfather was a firm believer in dreams.

 “Iain, always believe in your dreams, no matter what people say.  A man should never be dictated of his life, even despite circumstance.” he once told me when I was seven years of age, a year before my parents’ divorce.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the last time I ever saw of him.  Pop was a chronic smoker and died of complications from emphysema.  I had decided then that I was never going to smoke a fag.  I also played a song by Ryuichi Sakamoto during his wake.  Everyone was moved to tears by my talent.  I almost imagined my great-grandmother Alice shed a tear at that time.

 It was either my piano playing that did it or maybe it was because all the royalties that came from my grandad’s songs which he had placed in a trust fund was left entirely solely to me.  Pop also invested largely in stock in a company called Apple electronics when he sold his old funds from Virgin records after a winning a legal dispute over mass producing the Coke theme without him getting any credit.  

 I have since then have the miracle of iPod to thank for since the worth has quadrupled along with the royalties that Pop receives annually. I even tried a hand in dabbling some of the money and invested in cellular phone batteries and developed a game software about running a business, so pretty much the business acumen and money foresight is something inherent to us Hargreaves.

 By the time I had reached my 12th birthday, I was a billionaire. Add that with a couple of “good investments” I’ve suggested which my father’s good friend and my grandfather’s trusted advisor, Mark Wallace complied, my millions turned into easy billions. It all seems like a really good idea except that I don’t get to touch everything until I’m 21 years of age. Well, since then you’d think that I’m living in the lap of luxury.

 Wrong.

 I decide that I’m not going to be stupid and spend carelessly. Growing up in luxury and following a set of rules has always been something that I’ve been used to.  For once, living in small town America where nobody gives a shit on whether you’ve gone to the finest schools in the world, drive a luxury car, and own anything that only people could dream of is for me one hell of an education.  I don’t have to worry about watching my back for any pap that’s going to take my picture if I pick my nose and find it on cover of the New York Tattler the next day. I don’t even have to worry if some crazy person jumps at me and decides to use me for ransom.

 For now, I can be just a normal guy named Iain.

 At least I can relax and play the piano more often than I did for the past two years. Music had always been there, even on the sidelines as I scored my first goal at any match.  It was also there when I had scored off-field with my girlfriend, Lily, who eventually broke up with me to become a globe-trotting fashion model. Last I heard was she was dating a photographer who looked to be twice our age.  I wasn’t bitter.  She did occasionally cheat on me.  Not that I was the loyal boyfriend sort either.   I was like a celebrity at my boarding school so it was no surprise that I got regular visits from other birds at the dormitory.  Being at a co-ed boarding school during those trying times as a teenager definitely took the fun out of those rampages one sees at a stereotypical American university.

 Once the thought of University comes, I think of Harvard and the time I spent there, thinking it was bollocks and a waste of time.  What did I have to learn from a bunch of stodgy professors whose annual earnings is what I could roughly make in an hour?   Only a few months more of dealing with this hellhole and I’m out of here, I tell myself as I still lie on bed and link my arms behind my head.  

 Then I think about the whirlwind of events that occurred these past few months that lead me here to Lima.

 It started out as a regular day at work.  I was in the office, considering the latest merger and preparing to attend an International Trade Conference where I was selected as one of the prime cabinet members.  I was also the youngest chosen and there was no way in hell I was going to fuck up and make a mess out of my position.  So I did my homework when I came across an article about the economic status of a factory in Ohio.  One of the pictures included a young woman with pale blonde hair swept neatly in a ponytail.  She looked dead familiar.

 My mother had a twin.  

 I barely remember anything about my mother as I had blocked memories of her the day she walked out of our lives.  I felt at that time, it was a lot easier doing so than having to deal with the melancholy, something that my dad carried until the day he died. But curiosity overcame my desire to just shut this information out, so I did my research.

  I have to tell you, being a kid who comes from a family of computer and information technology investors, of course hacking and all the gizmo talents come naturally to me just as playing songs on the piano by wee do.  So in a matter of a few hours, I located my aunt and found a bit of startling information.

 When I heard that my mother had died a few years ago, I was told by my grandparents that it was from complications from lung cancer.

 But what they didn’t tell me (perhaps they too were unaware like my father) was that my mother also had left a will to a boy named Neil.

 Neil Jacob Sheridan Hargreave was born exactly 6 months after she left my father.

 Somewhere in this town, I had a brother. A family whom even my own money hungry, socialite-elitist family have long kept a secret and were unwilling to open Pandora’s box for the fear of being scrutinized.  If I had a conversation with my great grandmother Genevieve, she would have told me to drop it as looking for this teenager and raising him into a world he was never accustomed to would not only prove difficult, but futile.  

 Something inside me can’t just let this go.  Somewhere, a few miles from this place, I have a younger kid brother unaware of this painful truth.  If ever Luna told Neil anything about his father’s background, he would have probably heard horror stories about my snobby family, which was true except that I’m nothing like them.  Judging from the information I’ve gotten so far, he and my aunt were living in one of the poorer sides of town and went to McKinley High.

 I check the time on my alarm clock and swear a mouthful.

 I’m late!

*** Chapter2: Quinn on her first day of school, senior year...

 I check myself at the mirror before I leave.

 It’s a force of habit.  My entire life, I’ve been living out of everyone’s expectations.  It was two years ago when my life was perfect. I was Captain of the Cheerios, I had the star quarterback as my boyfriend though he wasn’t the brightest bulb in Ohio, I downplayed the ultimate girl-next-door by joining the Celibacy Club.  I was literally on top of the world.

 Then I just had to get pregnant.

 My boyfriend wasn’t the father, his then-best friend was.

 Because of my predicament, I was forced out of my beloved Cheerios uniform.

 I joined Glee Club and had to listen to Rachel Berry whine and moan about how much she deserved her solos.  Though granted she’s talented, she still annoys the hell out of me.

Especially now that Finn chose her over me.

 I mean, seriously what’s wrong with the world these days? It’s like suddenly the universe does a 360 degree Linda Blair and suddenly the geeks inherited the earth. If I could have a Do-Over Year this could have been the best time to ask for it.

 I’m quoting clichés, great.  I check the mirror again and find that my dark mascara is still perfectly applied.  My lips are well glossed, as it helps keep away from the nicotine stains.  It isn’t anything out of the ordinary though lately I’ve noticed myself to be wearing a lot more black outfits and have dark pink hair.

 It’s a phase I’m going through.  I just got dumped and took it out on my hair.  Perfect female behaviour, I rationalized to my then hysterical mother.  My mom is such a drama queen.  Since Dad left her for a younger tattooed encrusted woman, I’m all she ever obsesses about when she’s sober.  That was until my sister suffered a mental breakdown after she broke her engagement when she found out her beloved fiancée was a closeted bisexual.  Lately she’s been bunking around the homestead so fortunately for me, I’ve been out of Mom’s radar.

 But that doesn’t mean I’m out of the woods yet.  In a few days, I’ll be back in the walls of McKinley High once again and I’m sure everyone is dying to find out whatever happened to Quinn Fabray after being dumped by the school’s football hero for a Barbara Streisand deadringer.  Picking on the school’s gossip radar, I’m sure I’ll be the one topic on people’s mouths.

 Though this year, I’m making a few changes.

 I’ve decided not to return to Glee Club.  Come on, I almost did try and sabotage the Regionals when I went A-wall in New York.  Though I harbour no ill feelings towards other Glee members, the mere thought of hanging around just now seems pointless.

 These days, I’m doing a Madonna and reinventing myself. The pink hair, the Ryan Seacrest tramp stamp tattoo and punk Material Girl-esque outfits are just the beginning. I head out and take my car and drive myself uptown to meet up with my new found friends.  Since post-Regionals, I’ve found myself hanging with Sheila and and a group of meanest, nastiest girls in McKinley.  They call themselves the Skanks.   Santana has lost her edge, as to what reason I could honestly care less and I really don’t think I want to know either; I do miss having a minion. Brittany, on the other hand, has an IQ lower than that of a common flea.  Sheila is the manipulative, don’t-mess-with-me sort that combined with the angst of a sophomore, adds to the perfect right hand man.  

 “Hey bitch!” Sheila waves her hand as I make my way to school and go under our usual spot underneath the bleachers to smoke. We rule in and out of school grounds.  

 I take a long exhale and pretend to look bored.  I scan along the sea of familiar faces hurrying inside the school building and shrug when no one catches my interest.  As much of a loser town Lima can be, nothing out of the ordinary ever happens.  Even the local townies are the same old people I ran into since I was in diapers. I also pretend to listen to Mack go on about her typical day.  A whiny, angry girl who makes out with almost anyone is the perfect diversion to let everyone know how interesting our lives and care less about anything.  In reality, for me to care less about anything makes me feel numb.

 And feeling numb is all I need about now.

 *** Chapter 3: Iain

 I park my motorcycle and look at my surroundings. So this is what it’s like to stuck in a John Hughes movie, I smirk as I take in the sight of high school kids scurrying about as they run inside the school premises.  Unlike my old school in Britain, we wore stuffy uniforms and had a zero-tolerance policy which kept our uniforms, well, uniform.  

 On the outside, we may have all looked the same, but it’s really no different from any regular school.  We had our own versions of the jocks, the nerds, the social outcasts. Though culturally, we were a bit more civilized compared to a public government-run highschool.  I notice that one kid with messed afro hair being harassed by a group of males in lettermen jackets.  The boy with the weird hair gets dumped in the garbage bin, as my eyes widen in horror.  I look around to see if anyone interferes or calls out for attention.  Sadly, no one notices, almost as if this were a common occurrence.  

 If this were at my former school in Scotland, those jocks would have definitely been expelled.  No matter what circumstance, even if their mother was the bloody Queen of England, my school other than having a zero-tolerance uniform policy also advocated a very strict zero-tolerance in bullying.  Which was probably the reason why most royals sent their kids to my alma matter.  You have no idea what kind of rubbish the Sloane Rangers (see British derogatory slang term for someone with peerage living in the elitist part of London) take from the commoners.  Given to the fact that history makes them wear ridiculously heavy crowns definitely is not the definition of cool where I come from.

 I distract myself and notice a group of girls in their red and white cheerleader uniforms.  One of them looks at me and gives me that saucy look before whispering to her friend who also checks me out.  I shake my head and ignore them.  The last thing you want is to be accused of statutory rape, I tell myself under my breath as I grab my sling bag and head off to the Principal’s office.  I have a brief talk with the secretary who looks equally as flustered as the cheerleaders and find myself face to face with a middle-age, portly man of ostentatious Indian descent.  I hand in my credentials.  He reads them briefly and takes his time interviewing me.  

 “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Principal Figgins says.  My body stiffens in defensive mode. Oh god, what did Dr. Heussaff, my old high school Headmaster say about me this time? My grades were bloody impeccable, my conduct (before my graduation incident where I flashed Kate and Pippa Middleton before accepting my diploma) was perfectly flawless, I was a Prefect at the top dormitory.  I was a star pupil on the outside, but an apparent mess inside.

 “Really, sir?” I answer slowly, expecting the drop of the shoe at any moment.

 “Dr Heussaff spoke very highly of you.    He says that it was your personal choice to teach Music to underprivileged children.  I am just curious why you chose America, especially Ohio?”

 Because Heussaff obviously was high with from smoking weed and possesses a sick sense of humor.   Well, I don’t really tell him that, instead, I flash a sincere smile and prepare my soliloquy, which I had practiced dozens of times in front of the mirror.

 “I was born in London but my parents are American so I carry with me dual citizenship.  Unlike Britain, where our government supports the arts for public schools and grants scholarships with an estimated 30 million pound annual budget, I figured that my birth country could use someone of my talent. I’ve also done my research and found that Ohio is one of the states that holds the least priorities in the arts, so I’ve made it my personal mission to change at least a few minds.”

 “We’re sadly in the middle of a recession, so you probably wouldn’t be limited to simply just teaching music.  As it was, due to the suspicious behavior of our previous music teacher, Sandy Ryerson, we are having our own doubts so as to encourage the arts as part of the curriculum.”

 Whoa, say what?

 “But, sir.” I interject, slightly losing a bit of my cool for a brief moment.   I place myself in check, hoping that I don’t lose it. Keep, calm Hargreave, remember that you’re here to look for your brother.  “Does this mean, music as a class is out?  Surely you have other extracurricular activities that doesn’t particularly involve having a student smash his brains out with a helmet?”

 “We do, in fact, have a Glee club, but that’s already headed by William Schuester.  The least I can do for you is have you teach History, since our last substitute teacher has left.  You can also teach French, seeing that you have scored A* in your A levels of foreign languages.  Perhaps, maybe also be an assistant to the football team with their coach, Shannon Beiste.” “You mean football, sir like the ones with helmets and touch downs I presume?  You do realize sir that the football I’ve participated in is World Cup material, not Super Bowl.”

 “Well, it’s one and the same.  We’re in budget and the annual teacher’s strike isn’t going to disappear so we really could use all the sources we can get at minimal cost.  This is why I’m placing you in front and center. Besides, you seem like a confident young man who has it all figured out, I’m sure you can handle yourself perfectly well in a classroom setting.  Welcome to McKinley High.” He gives a warm smile before he offers to give my dumbfounded self a handshake in order to seal my impending doom.

 God, could this guy be a real tool or what?  

 Two days later I’m reassigned to teaching night school. Apparently, it had something to do about me serving as a distraction for the younger female students and the openly gay boys assigned to my classes.  Though I may not have inspired the students to have better grades, but I did make them at least have a perfect attendance score.  In fact, my attendance score still holds the record for not only achieving a perfect attendance, but an overpopulated one as well.

 Also, I was no closer to finding Neil.  Figgins had placed me to teaching the seniors class so I mostly spent my time dealing with the older kids.  I also ended up signing myself into a Big Brother program where I became good friends with the sweetest kid who reminds me of my uncle.  Her name is Becky and she has Down Syndrome like my uncle Chase.  Though I did end up with a friend, it still didn’t help me deal with the obvious situation.

 My plans weren’t working as well as I hoped.

 I had to find them fast before I headed back to New York. For the past 4 years, I’ve been working myself like a dog barely taking any vacation leave.  If I delay this, there would bound to be questions that the less anyone knew or asked, the better.  So the only answer lay back to starting at square one.

 I was going to have to find my mother’s twin sister on more desperate terms.

 *                *                *

Chapter 4: Quinn

 Present day: Blonde hair and change of outfits later...

 I need to get a hold of my life.

 I was through with the dyed pink hair job, the taking Beth from Shelby antics, and hooking up with almost anybody just to have another baby tragic performance.  

 The only drama I want in my life will be the ones I’m saving for Yale.  It’s a miracle that my short outward lashing stint had only cost me a few notches down on my GPA, but I have to do much better and crunch my neurons harder.

Unfortunately, my ticket to getting into Yale was proving to be dismal.  I had a long discussion with my parents about my future and it seems that staying there financially was my problem.  With the recession at hand, my father admitted that he wasn’t sure if he could afford the expensive tuition and I was fully aware that spending a four year semester thing in an Ivy League institution did not come cheap.  

 I sought help from the school councilor, of which, I think asking her advice would seem ironic as she looks to be in need of a shrink because of her Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  After my talk with Miss Pillsbury, I have to raise my GPA and impress the Dean of admissions, who by the way seems like a real tough guy who bears no sympathy to anyone.

 And right now, I’m really desperate.

 Desperate to the point that I find myself sitting in night classes to make up for loss time.  It isn’t so bad, most of the people who come here are adults.  Most of my classmates are immigrants who have still to master their English.  Others are those who never had the time to finish their academic ambitions due to circumstance. Take, for example the housewife, Jennifer, who married early in high school, but now has to find a job to support her kids after her good-for-nothing husband left her.

 It’s my first time to be in night school, but right now I’m listening to Jennifer blab about the teaching assistant.

 “You should have been here last week, because the guy who teaches English Literature is a hunk of a man.” she sighed as she tilts her head as if reveling back into the memory of a very pleasant dream.   “He’s like a Hollywood superstar and a gorgeous male model rolled into one. Once he starts quoting Shakespeare, I die just a little.”  The other women beside us nod in agreement.  

 “I heard that he went to some fancy school in college and dropped out because he wanted to pursue a career in music.” Iora, the small diminutive woman from El Salvador who reminds me of Snooki from Jersey Shore whispers as if she were divulging in some conspiracy secret.

 “That would make so much sense, handsome on the outside, brilliant and sensitive on the inside.  I hope he’s not gay.” Jennifer added and giggles like a schoolgirl.  Her face drops suddenly and she settles in her seat as my gaze travels and I’m soon to find what the ruckus is about.

 “Good evening, guys.” Iain Hargreave walks in cheerfully. He looks absolutely gorgeous wearing a black slim fit five button Hugo Boss furious sports coat that’s open revealing a white v-necked shirt that shows off the sleek column of his neck and dark brown pants.  I can’t help but think that he looks fit to be in a Hugo Boss commercial with his hair mussed in a “I-still-manage-to-look-hot-after-rolling-off-the-bed” look and those piercing blue eyes as he enters the room.   He slowly shuffles out of his jacket and a rushed adrenaline feeling starts making me want to move out of my chair and start handing him dollar bills.  

 I almost make the sign of the cross as an act of penance for possessing such lustful thoughts!

 He throws the jacket on the seat and glares at me when he realizes that I’m in the room.  We’re caught in a staring match, and I can almost hear him take a long breath of intake, almost as if the sight of me simply takes his breath away.  His handsome features tighten as he frowns and turns his attention towards the rest of the class and begins his lessons.  He spends the entire time completely ignoring my existence.  Somehow, that knowledge alone makes me  sad, almost like as if I could wish that he actually like me more than resented the very being that was Quinn Fabray, blonde, Christian to the core, and too perfect on the inside, an absolute horrid mess inside.

 I never understood Iain’s disdain towards me.  Usually, he comes along as charming and affable to everyone, including my own father who can’t seem to stop saying how great he is.  My dad has always wanted a son and my sister Frannie, who had just recently gone through an ugly divorce, and I never filled that void.

My mother tolerates Iain with cool civility, but my sister is the worst.  She shamelessly flirts with him whenever he’s around. I roll my eyes remembering how she coquettishly asks him how he pronounces his name.  He replies it would sound like as how it would have been spelled as Ian because his nickname comes from his Scottish great grandfather or something.  And though he throws that usual charming smile, which I know is fake because it never quite reaches his eyes, he’s been pretty firm in his actions in telling my sister that he has no interest in forming any relationship with her.  

 How Iain came into the Fabray household was my father’s brainchild idea.  He told me that he had hired me a personal tutor who not only could help me with my SATs and GPA, but that he also had personal connections to Yale which could definitely help me get the scholarship I needed.  Or at least a partial grant, my father reassures me that we could still manage the expenses.  Not that I needed a tutor, I can handle myself academically fine.  Prior to my tumultuous state in the past few months, I had been a straight A student and though I was a blonde cheerleader, I could also hold myself against even the nerdiest people in the academic world.

 Except where Iain Hargreave is concerned.  Every time I’m around him, my mind turns to mush and I can barely concentrate.  The minute he walked in our house, I recognized him as the young man I saw that day on the hotel lobby in New York.  I was hooked on him during those days because I couldn’t wait to get out of our room and seek him out.  In fact, the only reason why I was able to convince the rest of the New Directions to get out of there and explore New York was because I wanted to find him and hope that I would run into him again at the lobby.  Unfortunately, that never happened.  So I consoled myself by being a bitch all over again.

 And as if the Universe was going to do a Linda Blair 360 on me, I end up finding my dream man in our house.   Somewhere also in that moment when he stepped in, I knew he also recognized me when a flicker of surprise shone for a brief moment before he mentally shuts down and his granite expression doesn’t reveal anything.  

 In fact, most of the time when we’re together, I’ve been dying to ask him that very same question.  However, pride pulls me back.  Most of the time, he’s formal and somehow being around me makes him tense and I myself become self-conscious. He is so not like those boys in William McKinley, they barely hold a candle to this guy’s high level octane of hotness.

 Geez. I can’t believe I just said that.

  It doesn’t help either knowing that he acts as if dealing with me was a painful chore that he has to endure five days a week.  I hate to admit that it does kind of irk my feelings knowing that the only reason why he’s helping me out is because he’s in need of money, which my father would handsomely provide once I get into Yale.  On the days that he’s at home, Iain gives me assignments and then would leave me to do them alone.  My sister sees an opening salvo then whisks him away, talking animatedly as she pulls on all the moves.  Iain pleasantly tolerates her, but somehow I get this feeling it’s because he does this out of spite rather than polite courtesy.  

 As Iain’s voice drones along with talks about World History, I tune into his voice.  I know he speaks in an American slang, but there’s a hint of something foreign.   My mother told me that he’s very smart and went on scholarship to a fancy boarding school in Scotland during his teen years and was accepted at Harvard with a business degree but dropped out because his scholarship grant went bankrupt.  She didn’t divulge on any details as to what Iain was doing in Ohio because he doesn’t look like the type that grew up in Lima.  

 Actually, a lot about Iain baffles me.

 Yet intrigues me and makes me yearn for more.  This is an emotion I’m not so used to and gives me a queasy feeling of inadequacy.  I’ve dated guys whose personalities ranged from naive, immature, boring and unworldly. Finn was inexperienced, Puck is a part little boy and drama queen, and Sam was pleasant as a day fishing.  That is if you like long hours of boredom.  

 Everything that Iain isn’t.

 Something about him doesn’t add up.  He’s cultured, educated, recklessly dangerous, and ridiculously good-looking that it’s a distraction alone watching him in a simple white shirt that contrasts yet emphasizes his bronzed muscled body.  As he turns around to write something on the board, I’m mesmerized by the easy, graceful movement of his biceps and his shoulder as he writes that I find myself wondering what it would be like to be caught in that embrace and looking into those deep cobalt blue eyes.

 A woman behind me sighs lustfully, interrupting my thoughts. I respond by breathing out irritably in response.  Iain turns slightly and I catch the smirk on his face, almost as if he heard my reaction to the woman.

 An hour flies by and then class is over, as everyone starts packing their things, Iain ambles towards me.  I can feel that the entire class too has noticed the tension and tries to tune into our conversation.  Iain throws a rather annoyed look towards their direction and they hurry out of the room leaving me alone to deal with him.

 “Is this some kind of joke?” He asks eyeing me suspiciously. “I’m gone for a few days and you start doing night school behind my back? “

 “Joke?  No, a joke is something that involves having a laugh and I don’t find this humorous at all.” I reply tartly as I lean my head to look at him.  He’s so tall that I start feeling the tension roll towards my neck.

  His eyes scan my face then slowly rove around my body.  Being Captain of the Cheerios at some point of my life, I’m used to this typical kind of male behavior of being checked out.  Except this guy does it so blatantly to the point that it feels intimate even though he’s standing an arm’s length away from me.  

 Noah Puckerman does the same thing all the time too, but it comes off as offensive.  This one makes me feel all warm and tingled inside and at the same time I want to run far away, scream my head off and pray to Jesus for having sinful thoughts involving this dark-haired angry young man with electric blue eyes.  I can feel a rush of blood shooting up towards my face thinking of things that I really don’t want to discuss if I were still in the Celibacy Club.  

 Right now, he looks too darn sexy for words.  Don’t even get me started on those lips.  I could have probably been imagining things because for a slight second he seems a bit amused by my own reaction. Almost like he can read my thoughts and that he was thinking the exact same thing.

 Not that he can help that.  I’ll be he probably gets this sort of attention all the time, I remark bitterly.  My thoughts suddenly turn to thinking of the scores of women who have fallen rock hard for him.  Or how many had their hearts broken just simply by being around him?  Looking at him is like a drug that gives one the warm fuzzies.

 I remind myself that I don’t like warm and fuzzy feelings. Not a good place to be in considering my bad history.  I throw him a cool smile as if he doesn’t affect me in anyway even though I’m torn between running away and rushing towards those strong arms around that 6 foot tall frame and handsome face who smells like a combination of bergamot, sandalwood and Iain.  I’ve never been a fan of men’s fragrances before but since I’ve met Iain, whatever expensive aftershave or bodywash he uses gets me hooked every single time.   That’s a lie, I tell myself, Iain Hargreave is addictive.

 “You shouldn’t be here.  It’s late and it’s way past your bedtime.”

 “You didn’t give me a choice.  I mean, the whole assignment thing wasn’t working out for me. Besides, the added attendance also makes up for the classes that I skipped before and for your information, it’s only ten o clock.”

 “Did you drive here by yourself?” he quickly changes the topic. It’s a habit of his, distracting me with one thing and then saying something that’s completely different.

 “No.  My sister will pick me up later.”

 “Forget it, I’m taking you home.” He reaches out and takes my arm.  I try to ignore those warm fuzzy feelings again as he firmly, but gently drags me along with him.  I wasn’t sure if what started it was when he mentioned the part of taking me home or when he took my arm or maybe it could have been both.  People look around and I could hear Jennifer mumble something about me being so lucky and I roll my eyes in response.

 We amble our way out of the parking lot and Iain hands me a motorcycle helmet for me to wear.  Before I protest, he climbs on top and looks at me, expecting me to hop in.

 “What?  Motorcycle rides not good enough for you, Princess?” he asks sardonically, though I can hear him chuckle under his helmet.  It’s the first time he’s laughed or shown any other emotion other than annoyance, irritation, or indifference.  

 “I’ve ridden motorcycles before,” I retort as I wear the helmet and climb behind him.  I was actually glad that I chose not to wear a dress at this particular time as that would have been awkward.  I wrap my arms around his waist and feel his rock-hard abs underneath his jacket.  I tremble a little in response and he reaches out to warm my hands and forearms as if he was thinking I was cold.  His fingers linger a little longer than necessary as he tells me to hang on.  I hear the engine roar and I grab on tight and lean on his back and rub the side of my face against his jacket.  He smells clean, like laundry soap with a hint of male masculine sexiness.  Kind of like what an Irish Spring commercial would have been like if they ever invested in fabric conditioners. I’m not sure if it’s because I missed him or I missed the smell of mixed bergamot, sandalwood, and him as I lean closer and continue to inhale his scent as if it were the only thing I needed.  

 Perhaps I may not like warm fuzzies.  But I could get used to this.

 *                *                *

Chapter 5: Iain

 From the very beginning, I swore to myself that I was going to be detached and I wasn’t going to get emotionally involved.  

 And from the very beginning, I failed.

 I don’t know what it is about her that gets me, but Quinn has a way of pushing my buttons like no other.  Truth is, in a similarly sadomasochistic way, I enjoy ruffling her feathers.  It’s fun watching her getting pissed because unlike most girls who usually either ignore me or pout prettily to deviate me, she actually cares.

 How I came about becoming her tutor was purely accidental. When I discovered my mother’s twin was working in a UPS chain store owned by some guy named Russell Fabray, I knew I had to find some way to earn the man’s trust.  I wasn’t going to just drop in and give Aunt Luna a coronary, the last time my father tried to do that, she threatened to call the police and told him to stay the hell away from my mother.  

 God help me if I ended up doing the same stupid thing my old man did back then.  So I needed more information and some way to get close to her, without giving myself away and the only answer to that was to work there.  I should have dumbed down my credentials but it was a bit too late to argue and change anything since the local database would check out eventually. So I walked in Fabray’s office with my CV and handed it to him, saying that I was an out-of-college business major from Stanford looking for a job.

 After a brief interview, Russell Fabray turns out that he was in need of making amends to his daughter after what he put his family through. I listen intently as the man started bawling out that he didn’t mean to leave his wife and children for a woman who had more tattoos than skin on her body.  I didn’t blame him.  The guy was a staunch Christian fellow whom I had this impression was the type who enjoyed spending his weekends on some boring Bible thumping activity.  

 I don’t have anything against it, it was never my cup of tea.  Anyway, he showed me a picture of his “precious daughter”, whom at the time was photograph of a rather plain dowdy girl with auburn brown hair and thick plastic glasses.  He went on about how his daughter was interested in getting into Yale but with the tuition rates, he doubted they could afford such a luxury.  I agreed to help in return that I spend time at the shop, with hopes of running into Luna without her recognizing me.  

 I had long avoided being photographed in public due to constant threats of kidnapping; I have paid the paparazzi and every media available to keep my profile low key.  So chances that I would be recognized are pretty slim.  

 Besides, I didn’t feel the need to tell him that my family is a legacy in Yale.  My dad, my granddad, his father, and the one before that all went to Yale.  I rebelled and went to Harvard, mainly just to stay away from my family who lived in the Upper East Side of Manhattan.  I actually preferred the quiet charm Boston offered for a while before I quit my final year there.  My life was like an episode of Gossip Girl gone to life where I played a cross between Nathan Archibald and Chuck Bass but was more of a Dan Humphries.

 Lately, my life was filled with a set of rules. The sheer predictability of it all, including everyone in it, was beginning to grate on me. Whether it was doing business deals, being in bed with a model from a well-known lingerie brand or a glamour spread magazine, evoking a relationship with a diva starlet, or even as mundane as playing golf with business acquaintances, I automatically did and said all that was proper….and improper at the appropriate time.  Being associated with people who were like me in my own class (or thought to belong there) was becoming anemic by the hour.  I felt like my world was like a mapped out story minus a climax or lackluster anticlimax.

 This time, I wanted to play the field and pretend I was just a normal, average twenty something man wanting to live the American dream.  I promised Russell that I’d get Quinn into admissions and help her get a scholarship.  

 He agreed and he arranges a family dinner the next day where I was to meet his ex-wife, who reminds me of a Real Housewife from some Midwest area.  The eldest daughter, Fran, spelled trouble and was not in any way my type despite her slim figure and silver platinum blonde hair.  She had deep blue eyes and her hair color reminded me too much of my mother.   As it was, I’ve always had an aversion effect from blondes.  Probably because I’ve witnessed my dad get his heart trampled by one and refused to go the same way.

 And finally, my eyes settle on Quinn.  She was exactly how I remembered from that time I saw her at the Intercontinental lobby.  She now looked so adorably cute in sexy Lolita way rocking that white baby doll dress that showed a tiny waistline, ample sized breasts and slim legs encased in mid boots. A simple gold cross adorns her slim lovely white neck and I’m given a reminder by God to watch where I lay my eyes on.  I remember her clad in something similar when I was on my way to visit my grandmother, Constance. Grandma liked to frequent the bar lounge because she claimed that they made the best Singaporean Slings.  I’m more convinced she says that because we own the hotel and she’s too stingy to go elsewhere.    

 The minute I laid eyes on Quinn on that hotel lobby, it was as if time had stopped.  She had long wavy light sandy blonde hair that reached the back of her shoulders that gave me this distracting urge to run them through my fingers and feel if they’re as silky smooth as they look. She wasn’t a classic beauty like the models I frequently dated, but there was something wholesome and sweet about her that reminded me of ice cream, cotton candy, and amusement parks.

 I assumed, given the Harajuku cuteness, she was working as a part-time Nanny and art student from Tisch University at NYU because most of the girls there look like ingénues anyway.  She looked like Little Red Riding hood wearing that floral blue dress and a bright red orange jacket and I felt like the horny Big Bad wolf, thinking how she would give Mr Happy a full rush even if she wore a sack.  My thoughts began to stray, wondering what she’d look like underneath that shapeless jacket that hid her figure.  I imagined she’d look smoking hot if she wore one of those sheath dresses from Hervé Leger and strappy Manolo Blahniks stilettos wrapped around those fair, nimble limbs. I could tell she’s dancer with those legs even when they’re wrapped in those white stockings that reminds me of the stuff nurses wear.   Put me in the ICU, and give me intensive care stat!  I think with an inward grin as I stare a little longer at those gorgeous legs of hers.  She definitely used to be a cheerleader in high school, I muse thinking back on how many times I’ve had sexual fantasies involving cheerleaders dressed up in those freakishly short skirts and holding out pom-poms with legs high up in the air.   I give myself a mental shake from my wayward thoughts and focus again on the gorgeous woman ahead of me.  

 From this distance, I couldn’t exactly tell what color her eyes were, but they looked to be hazel and it matched her pretty features.  But her lips, dear God, those things were the stuff porn dreams were made of because they were lush, naturally pinkish red that was slightly parted and moist from freshly applied lip gloss.  The sight of those juicy chops actually made me stop dead in my tracks.  I was so engrossed by that damn sexy mouth.   I know what I said when I mentioned about having an aversion to blondes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find them attractive.  Not especially with a mouth like that. I give her one of my seductive half smiles, thinking all the while of the things I could do to that bouche all night long

 Wow.  

 Who was this girl?

  She was looking at me the same way most women do whenever they first see me.  I smile sardonically and think that this girl needs to relax and I just know how to ease her fears. As I make my way toward her, I realize that there’s also a longing on that beautiful yet vulnerable angel face. Now, that really got my full attention.

  As I saunter thoughtfully towards her, I start making mental notes; analyzing her bizarre behavior as to why someone that pretty would look so forlorn and vulnerable. Like she had been lost for a while and needed someone to rescue her from whatever it was that trapped her.   I can’t really describe why I had been drawn to that, but all I could tell you was that when she looked at me, it was as if Santa had come early and brought her a present that she couldn’t believe belonged to her.  I’m used to women ogling me and sometimes found it annoying, but oddly this time, I took exception to this particular female.  

 In fact, I like it.  It’s almost as if I want her to have that expression for me, and only for me, even though I have no idea who the she hell was.  I wanted to make her mine.  We were probably staring at each other for a mere five seconds, but that short amount of time had planted a great wave of emotions that rushed through which was indescribable and totally beyond words.  It was like this sheer force that the cosmos placed between two strangers who were meant to meet at that particular moment and when they do, boom! You’re shocked, paralyzed, and before you know that moment is gone.

 Her friend in the bright yellow cardigan and tight green striped dress disrupts our deadlock.  She’s pretty in a tough, dark way; she reminds me way too much of my ex Lily, who has in avertedly put me off brunettes much more than my own mother did with blondes.  At this rate, my limitations would be with the redheads and the ones with light brown hair. Or sandy blonde.

 Little Red Orange Coat with her lovely locks that reminds me of honey, butter, and vanilla malt.  

 A man can get addicted, I wonder blithely if she tastes as good as what I’m picturing from her hair.  No way, I correct myself, she probably tastes even better.  I can see from my peripheral vision that she is distracted and cranes her head as if looking for me, but I’ve already made a beeline and chat with a tall beanpole of a man with wire-rimmed glasses and a huge beak nose.  Looking at Claude the concierge always makes me think of Abraham Lincoln.  

 Already, in my mind, a plan was formed and I’ve made my decision. Oh no you don’t get away from me that easily, you adorable beautiful minx. I grin in anticipation, excited to see her again once I get all the details.  

 I had already thought of surprising her hotel room with flowers.  Red roses scattered all over with the works, and an expensive champagne bottle like Bollinger Grande Année Rosé or maybe Dom Pérignon care of the friendly welcoming committee that composes of well, me, myself and I.

 Then after I’ve charmed her off that sweet little behind, I’d ask her out to dinner and take her on my helicopter for a night ride around the Empire State Building; I figured that was always a hit with the ladies from my previous rendezvous.  Then take her clubbing to one of the bars that I’ve acquired and when we’re all sweaty and bothered, I’ll bring her home and do everything that I’ve been dying to do with that sexy pink mouth, undress her and make love to that delectable body all night until we’re both too tired to move.  

 Then, like when all good things come to an end, I’ll firmly tell her that I have to leave for a prolonged business trip and never bother with her ever again.  She’ll probably frown and pout, and given those lips, I’d probably take her shopping as a ‘goodbye and thanks for playing’ parting gift, thinking that she could also use sexy underwear.  I’m thinking some Agent Provocateur corset bras and La Perla satin slips would do the trick.  Then I’d fuck her again when she’s wearing them, both in the dressing room and in her hotel room before I finally go on my ‘business trip’.  I start to feel a strange stirring down my groin and I chuckle to myself wondering at how far my imagination has gone when I haven’t even met her yet.

 What if she’s got a horrible voice and sounds like a frog?

 Or worse, what if she doesn’t even speak English? Impossible, I shake my head and sigh with relief, she looks all American even though with those striking features, she could pass as an English girl from Chelsea.

 Stop daydreaming and get with the program Hargreave!

   I chat with Claude, asking my Grandmother’s whereabouts, I then mildly inquire about Little Red Orange Coat and her friends. I play things cool, merely asking what all the fuss was about as I note that there are a lot of young people filing in the hotel this week.  Claude informs me that they’re a bunch of high school kids from some small town in Ohio competing in a National Chorale competition.  Two suite rooms were registered to a William Schuester.  He then hands me the list of names of teenagers who accompanied him.

 Hold up, my eyes bug out for a split second.  High school kids?  I earlier assumed Little Red was in college renting out a hotel room to celebrate her 21st bday or was here to meet a friend who was visiting the city like that dark Latina friend of hers, but a high school teenager?

 Suddenly, I feel sick to the stomach for lusting over a child. It was then that I decided I wasn’t really interested of going through the entire list thinking that my dream girl could be named Rachel Berry or Mercedes Jones. She could be a Brittany, most cute girls these days go by that name, I shrug as I rhythmically tap the list as if to block any thought I had earlier.  

  Give it up Hargreave, it’s a moot point and you know it, I console myself as I glance over again the registration list.  She’d only be in New York for a couple of days and then go back home to some hick town where her football player boyfriend was probably waiting for her with sad, puppy dog eyes. For a minute, I thought she was Brittany S. Pierce, but after dealing with the real Brittany when I substituted in an English literature class those hopes were dashed.

 I’m brought back again to present day where in that awkward moment in the foyer when Russell introduced us, I knew she recognized me. I pretended I knew nothing and downplayed.  If her father found out that I had been in New York, I was pretty certain questions would arise that I might not be able to fully conceal everything about myself.  Luckily, Quinn didn’t give anything away.  

 I took a few stolen glances at dinner time and noticed that she had cut her hair.  It wasn’t that bad, it was still long enough to have my hands run through them.  The minute I thought of that, I started scowling and nearly kicked myself for my own weak urges.  Don’t even get me started because even at this distance, I’m highly aware that she smells like a combination of Green Tea, lemons and jasmines. Her lips are freshly glossed and I can trace a hint of vanilla.  

 Those elements combined are a very, tantalizing and highly fucking dangerous mix.  

 I take a step away from her so I don’t distract myself further and pay attention to her sister, who’s giving me that admiring ‘oh my gosh, you’re so hot’ look.  Oh yeah, baby.  Look all you want sweetheart, the beauty’s only skin deep, I smile sardonically glad that the odd stirring in my groin has ceased.  Her sister smells like expensive Bulgarian Rose perfume, and from this distance I can tell that she’s put way too much and it instantly turns me off.

 Most girls I’ve been with either smell like roses or expensive musky French perfume, or something with a rose-smelling component. I’ve also been with women who smelled like cookies which by the way made me feel diabetic.  

 But to me, Quinn smells clean and relaxing; her scent reminds me of those calming teas Pop used to make as we sat together and played the piano.

  I turn my attention towards those expressive green eyes, which look at me as if wondering what the hell I was doing sitting on their table.  From this distance, I realize that her eyes have brown flecks in them, giving them the appearance of hazel, which I had presumed then were the color of her eyes.  It’s a dangerous combination because I can feel that if she’s really riled those sea-foam jewels could turn into stormy amber.

 Why the heck have I suddenly turned poetic describing eye color?

  This is disgusting, I tell myself obviously disappointed with my own behavior.  If that Fabray guy finds out  how much I’m worth  that self-righteous bastard would gladly throw his daughters and have one of them, if not both, marry me off.

 Somehow, I’m suddenly afraid of the idea of marrying Fran who keeps eyeing me like I’m the main course.  

 I don’t dare let my thoughts wander off to what I REALLY wanted to do to Fabray’s young, teenage daughter on our ‘wedding night’ or what my first intentions were when I saw her at the hotel lobby in New York.

 If ever Russell Fabray knew that I had almost seduced his youngest daughter, I would surely leave this house a eunuch minus anesthesia.

I distract myself the entire evening by giving her an overview of what Yale expected from an applicant.  I didn’t have the heart to tell Quinn that I was personally connected to the Dean of Admissions, David Sanders-Pendleton, as he is currently my grandmother’s fourth husband.  I didn’t want Dean Dave (I never called him Grandfather) to think I was using him.  

 So in a Machiavellian approach, I decide to fill in Quinn on the details that I knew my step-grand dad looked for in a candidate.

 “So what are you thinking of majoring?” I ask pleasantly. Dinner was over and Quinn and I were still seated at the dinner table corroborating on her admissions.  Russell had left early on, and I could see Judy hovering around the background, as if she didn’t completely trust me.  Fran was watching me closely, thinking of some way to distract me and I barely pay her any mind.

 “Dramatic Arts,” her voice said steadily.  It’s the first time I’ve heard her speak.  Hmm, strangely enough, it’s actually pleasant to listen to I think to myself as an afterthought.

 “I heard you went to Harvard.” She then says, still not looking into my eyes.  This is a relief because they’re damn distracting.

 “Yes,” I say littlest words possible.  The less she knows, the better off I’ll be.

 “What was your major?”

 “Economics and Computer Science,” I answer hastily. “But enough about me, let’s talk about you.  So you want to be like Meryl Streep?”  I throw her a lopsided grin which she initially responds with a surprise, but smothers it immediately when she realizes that I’m mocking her.  Her sea foam green eyes light off and I was right about them turning into a flash of amber brown matches.  

 This girl is fun to rile, I chuckle. When I find myself wondering if she shares that same passion for other matters, I give myself a mental kick thinking that not only am I a weakling but a bloody lecher.  Shame on you, Hargreave, for hankering after a sweet, innocent high school senior from a small town.  Shame!  

 “Yes, like Meryl Streep.” She replies.

 “You do realize that it took Meryl a while before she entered Yale.” I shook my head.  “It’s a tough course to get into, what are your current credentials? “

 Quinn paled at my question and it was clearly obvious that she hadn’t thought her brilliant plan through enough.

 “I’m in the school glee club.”

 “Being in the chorale is an extracurricular activity. Anybody can be in a show choir as long as there are a few talented singers.  As far as I’m concerned, the rest can mouth watermelon all day.”

 I notice a few of Quinn’s habits during our conversation. One of which where she mercilessly bites her lower lip when she’s pissed or flustered.  She pouts when she’s wrapped deep in thought and I personally think it’s the sexiest duck face I’ve ever seen.   Her lips quiver when she’s nervous too.   Forgive me for sounding like a horny toad, but they’re all a real turn on.

 “I was captain of the Cheerios.”

 “Is that a cereal?”  I witnessed yet again those lovely amber green eyes turn its wrath toward my direction. Her lips are quiver I’m still amazed that despite the fury underneath, she remains collected and fully composed.  Judy and Fran have probably gone off somewhere, but I’m guessing that we’re not completely alone either.

 “If you must know, it’s a cheering squad.  We’ve won nationals 5 consecutive times.  Our coach even ran for congress.”

 “Ah, Sue Sylvester.” I clucked my tongue as an ominous sign that Quinn was doing badly at her faux interview. “Her Sarah Palin-esque slash Napolean Bonaparte sentiments against the Arts is an epic fail for the board review.  You won’t be winning favours from the Dean just by the mention of her name.”

 “She’s a Republican.” “Yes, but you also forget that Dean Pendleton is the descendant of Lord Alfred Tennyson.  Their family is a staunch advocate for promoting literacy.  They hold an annual scholarship fund for the Academy of Dramatic Arts at Yale and Cambridge, so being a part of something that discourages their lifelong mission isn’t going to be getting you brownie points.” I look at Quinn and notice that she’s biting mercilessly at those lovely lips that I doubt she even notices that her lower lip quivers when she’s nervous or when she’s really pissed.  

 Seeing her chew mercilessly at her luscious freshly glossed lips that smells like vanilla mixed with green tea and jasmines once again gives me a hard-on. Shit, what the hell is this girl doing to me? I shift sideways and slightly adjust my seating before anyone notices the growing erection between my legs.  I focus instead on our conversation.    

 “Look, I’ll tell you what.  Why don’t we just focus first on getting the guns to Yale? Your father has already filled me on your GPA.  Even though your first few weeks this year have been dismal, I think we’ve got enough time to repair the damage.  I can probably help you study to improve your SAT scores, though you probably won’t need my help judging by the results of your pre-test scores.  Have you thought about what to write for your essay?”

 I switch topics while resisting an urge to touch her hand and pull her towards me, wrapping my arms around her then doing Lord knows what. Judy would give my huevos a good kick first then gladly throw me out of the house. Luckily, the thought of Judy doing just that easily deflates Mr Happy.

 Quinn nods silently.  I run my fingers through my hair and draw out a few assignments I’ve made. I quickly go over the details and she follows through me, nodding as if she understood every word, but she refuses to look at me.  I shrug and push the papers towards her and let her get to work.  

 I amble across the kitchen to keep some distance from her because being around her is one helluva distraction.

 Easy as pie, I grumbled sarcastically as I recalled those very words I thought when I was still at her father’s office looking at her then preadolescent picture.  

 I’m dragged to the present moment having brought Quinn home from night class.  How her own parents allow her to do things on her own remains a complete mystery to me. When I was her age, my family threw me straight to boarding school so they never had to deal with me going through my tumultuous teenaged years.  When I arrived to New York during the summer breaks there were parties to go to, and then there were ‘those’ parties you just had to attend because well, everyone who was anyone was there.  

 My family was pretty lenient with me, because I knew how to handle myself publicly, but I’m pretty sure their faith in me was solely because I was male.  

 Things might have been different if I wasn’t.  I remember my cousin Fiona from Greece who was recently cited as one of Forbes richest teenagers, but can barely go out to shop or have an ice cream sundae without an array of bodyguards to watch over her.   I had a personal bodyguard, Lenny whom I’ve considered as family, but since I left for Stanford he was reassigned to Air Force One.    

 It didn’t seem right that Judy and Russell allowed their daughter to go through night school.  Trust me, if I thought McKinley was dangerous after seeing that Jewish kid with the weird hair get thrown in the dumpster I reassessed my thoughts the minute I was reassigned to night school.   What people weren’t aware of was that McKinley High at night was not only abandoned save for a few night watchmen, but there were drug deals made by the bleachers.  Some of the students at night school “posed” as honest people making a living but were doing the deals undercover by taking recess breaks selling them to a bunch of moronic jocks looking for a cheap high.

 When Quinn mentioned her flea-brained sister was going to pick her up it left me unsettled.  In the days that I’ve been living with the Fabrays, I’ve known that not only does Fran look like a younger version of Judy, but also they also share the same petulance for being dumped by their good-for-nothing husbands and possess an alcohol addiction that even rivals my own grandmother.  At least, I never worried about Constance’s blood levels going beyond the intoxicated limit as she doesn’t drive.  There were times that I was glad we had chauffeurs and vigilant bartenders for those moments.  

 I noticed most of the time that Judy also spent her time working or attending a Jesus Booze festival, Fran is usually busy making out with some loser guy or the latest hired gardener that Quinn ends up alone in their house without any supervision.  Not unless you count her helping her drunken mother upstairs and tucking her to bed after.  The mere mention of a religious figure and alcohol is blasphemous and I’m not even Catholic.  I’ve been told by a famous American author whom I’ve met at the Met after party last year, that Christians were the most fucked up individuals.  Hanging around the Fabrays has had me convinced of that on a daily basis.

 Except for Quinn.  I’m drawn back once again into that moment at the lobby in New York where she looked so lonely as if looking for someone to love her and care for her.  

 I’m not really volunteering or anything, but somehow I feel this ridiculous protective urge whenever I’m around her.  Like a guy with a fly swatter guarding a piece of delectable pie just waiting for the insects to come by.

 I’m pulled back again where my pie tart gives me the most scathing look.  I wasn’t going to admit either that from the past three days that I’ve been gone, I actually miss her.

 In fact I’m fighting the urge not to touch her.....and strangle some sense in her.  It’s infuriating, frustrating, and absolutely fucking hilarious and depressing at the same time.  I have never felt this frustrated with anyone except for this girl with the honey blonde hair and sea foam green eyes who’s smart mouth I just want to slam against my own.

 “You got me home, thanks a lot.” Says the angry blonde with the smart mouth.  Oh yeah, she sure didn’t miss you, Hargreave.  Based from that response, which wasn’t “gee Iain, thanks for the ride”, she obviously didn’t miss me at all.

 “I’m going to have a talk with Russell.  Under no circumstances are you doing night school.”

 “I’m not doing another round of your assignments. You’re never around anyway, so what’s the use of getting a tutor who keeps giving me a bunch of paperwork?”

 “And here I thought you wouldn’t miss me,” I grinned at her and raised an eyebrow.  I look at her lower lip and yep, it’s quivering again right on schedule. Uh-oh, I notice she isn’t using lip gloss on those babies.  Instead it’s a tinted lip balm that smells like strawberries mixed with a hint of champagne.  I’m beginning to like this more than the Vanilla gloss she regularly uses, but who the hell am I to care what kind of fucking gloss or lip balm she uses.

  I frown at her instead.

 “I don’t. “ She’s obviously lying because her lip is still quivering and she turns, avoiding my gaze. This is a relief because making eye contact with her has this double come-hither effect on me.  In fact, it’s the only thing now that’s separating me from not grabbing her and molesting that goddamn mouth of hers. I dig my hands further down my pockets in order to ease my tension and avoid a Mr Happy episode.

 “Do you know why I make you do those assignments?” I pay my attention to the semi-average decorations of Chateau de Fabray.  It’s a typical suburban American home that gives off this noveau riche approach that never ceases to irritate me because it comes off looking cheap and pretentious. I am duly grateful for the distraction.

 “Yes, to punish me and make my life miserable.”

 “Quinn, those paper work assignments are what you call home-school grading papers.  I’ve already sent your work and those alone already cover those days during your first few weeks as a senior when you went MIA.  Again, with that said, your idea of attending night classes are now pointless.”

She looks at me disbelieving every word I said.  I run my hand through my hair and lean back with my hands behind my head as I tilt my head forward and regard her in silence.

“So you weren’t doing this to avoid me.” “Avoid you?  Why would I do that?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I answer a bit puzzled as to why she would assume something so absurd.  

I wasn’t going to admit my own actions to her either.  I avoid her is because she distracts me and it makes me nervous since the last thing I want to do is take advantage of a situation that I know is going to come with disastrous consequences.  Besides, she’s a wide-eyed teenager who has the whole world ahead of her and I’m a disillusioned multi-billionaire in his twenties fast approaching a midlife crisis.  

 If things were different on that day at New York, I would have left her heartbroken. After seeing a glimpse of her life and given her history, what she’s been through, I’ve come to realize that this girl’s way too good for me and the least I could do is give her the future that she deserves.

 The only nagging feeling that I refuse to ask myself is would I still be involved in her future?  Do you really wanna go there now, Hargreave?  I don’t have to tell her the whole truth, just some partial stuff. I owe her that least much anyway.

 “Truth is, Quinn,” I add softly knowing that this probably won’t come as a surprise for her. “This isn’t the job I had in mind when I went to your father’s office.  When Russell saw my credentials, he thought it would be befitting for me to stand in as your tutor.  The longer I spent time with you and your family, I’ve come to realize you probably need more than that.”

 Her eyes widened in shock. “Wh-what do you mean?” she asked nervously taking a step back from me.  I shook my head as she misinterpreted what I meant.  She was giving me this look that I was going to grab her and physically assault her.

 “You obviously need someone to look out for you,” I say softly, enunciating each syllable to calm her, for some damn reason, I’m used to scaring the living daylights of grown, established men twice my age and here I am trying to soothe her fears like a patient parent.  If only my business rivals could see me now, they would be laughing like loons at my pitiable attempt.    

 “I’ve seen how your mom and sister go around leaving you to fend for yourself at home.  I know your dad isn’t exactly been a running candidate for Father of the year. Also, for the record, I doubt any of your family’s praying combined is any consolation to your plight.”

 She stifled a giggle.  It’s good to hear her laugh because I doubt Quinn does it very often. I may not get to see what she’s like at her school, but I’m pretty sure she keeps a mask on and wears it so well that nobody really sees her own insecurities.  I should know, I invented the same impermeable mask.  The heartless business tycoon, Max Hargreave, CEO of Global Merchant Enterprises & Holdings, a multibillion dollar company that just recently hit the roof after the success of the digital banking service called Loan Shark which recently is now available in either iPhone, Blackberry or Android.  

 “I can take care of myself, but thanks for offering.”

 “I wasn’t offering.  Look, I don’t want to argue with you.  I don’t like the idea of seeing you being in a place that isn’t safe. This really should be your parents concern –“

 “Why do you care so much?”

 Crap.  I wasn’t going answer that now.  Instead I tilt my head to look at her and run my hands through my hair and sigh.

 “I’m not supposed to,” I admit.  That sounds safe enough. “But considering the options that I’m probably the only person of legal age who does, I think we should put our differences aside and be........friends.  How about that?”

TO BE CONTINUED    

[newstanmarshblog]

The Average and Unusual Couple: Chapter Two

   It was Saturday morning, and Sharon drops off Stan close to Stark’s Pond where he plans to meet up with his friends.

   Sharon: If you need anything, just give me a call. I plan on spending nearly my entire day with your uncle.

   Stan: Okay, mom. Tell uncle Jimbo that I say hi.

   Sharon: Sure thing, sweetie. Have fun!

   Stan smiling: I plan on doing so. Bye!

   As she heads off to uncle Jimbo’s place, Stan leaves his bike parked next to Kyle’s bike, and then takes a nice quiet walk to Stark’s Pond. Along a way, he sees some Blue Jays and Squirrels that put a smile on his face because he hasn’t seen any nature activities since the lockdown began and he loves seeing wild animals. After about ten minutes of walking, Stan finally sees his friends waiting for him right beside the big pond. Deep inside, Stan is very emotionally joyful to see his pals in person for the first time in over a year.

   Stan smiling: What’s up, guys!

   Kenny smiling: Stan! No time no see! How’s it going?

   Stan: Aside from dealing with my crappy dad, I’m doing good now.

   Kyle: Glad to hear, dude.

   Stan each gives Kyle and Kenny a bro hug, and then gives Cartman a pat on the back.

   Stan: So, Cartman, sorry if I didn’t the chance to check up on you after the huge news was announced. How did you react to it?

   Cartman: I can’t believe that we have to go back to school so soon! *gets pissed off*

   Kyle: He didn’t take too well. You know how he hates school more anyone.

   Stan: *laughs* I can tell. Still the same old fatass as I last saw him.

   Cartman: Up to this point, I’m considering going back to homeschooling.

   Kenny: I don’t think your mom is gonna let you do that again. Not after on how you did it last time.

   Cartman: You mean how my old monkey beat the shit out of you during that time? *chuckles a bit*

   Kenny annoyed: Don’t remind me.

   Stan: Can you at least think of one thing that you missed from being at school?

   Cartman: Hmmm, nope. Not a single fucking thing.

   Kyle: What about Sloppy Joe day?

   Cartman: ………God Damn it!

   Kenny: You gotta admit, the school cafeteria’s cooking may suck pretty often, but at least their sloppy Joe does taste really good.

   Cartman: I’ll agree to that.

   Stan: Well, aside from returning to school, I’m also pretty excited to see new movies in the big screen again.

   Kyle excited: Hell yeah! I’m so ready to see those new Marvel movies!

   Stan: Me too.

   Kenny: Me three.

   Cartman: Ha! Those movies are never gonna be as good as their previous ones. I think Marvel’s days in the movie business are gonna be numbered.

   Kyle: Oh, I don’t think so, fatass. Comic book films grabs a lot of moviegoers’ attention in these days. No matter how good or bad each of their film gets, they’ll always be making a lot of money.

   Cartman: Whatever. Now that new Jackass movie, that’s definitely my kind of movie.

   Kenny: Those movies honestly makes me shiver.

   Stan: Why dude?

   Kenny: Let’s just say that some secrets are worth keeping to yourself for now. Anyway, the one upcoming movie for me that matters most is the new Suicide Squad movie.

   Cartman: You only care about Suicide Squad is because you think Margot Robbie is super hot as Harley Quinn.

   Kenny: Shut up! I just think she’s an awesome character is all.

   Kyle: What about you, Stan? What movie are you most excited for?

   Stan: Just two. Dune, and that new Jurassic World movie.

   Cartman: Of course you’re always excited for any movie that involves dinosaurs.

   Stan: Dude, you have no idea on how incredible they were back then. Dinosaurs were just as diverse as any group of animal today. Some were just as small as chickens, and others became large enough that still to this day holds the record of on being the largest land animal to ever walk the Earth!

   Cartman: *fakes yawns himself* Stan, you know how the rest of us don’t give two shits when it comes to those now extinct dumb reptiles.

   Stan: Shut the hell up, fatass! They’re not as dumb as you think. In fact, I bet you’ll lose to a Troodon in a puzzle game.

   Kyle: I’m no dinosaur fan myself, but even I know well that you’re more likely to lose in any competition against a Troodon.

   Cartman pissed off: SHUT UP, KHAL!

   Kenny: Alright, you guys! Let’s not get into any arguments today. This is the first time where all of us are together in over a year, and I would appreciate it if we can all agree on not having anymore fights just for one day.

   Stan: Agree.

   Kyle: Same.

   Cartman: Alright, fine. But no more fat jokes or dinosaur talk for today.

   Kenny: Good. Now then, who’s ready to go to Chill’s?

   Cartman: That’s more like it! I seriously need to have their Tostitos chips so badly.

   Kyle: Of course you need to have those chips in order to start a sumo wrestling career. 

   Cartman: Khal, what did I just tell ya!

   Kyle: *laughs pretty hard* Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

   Stan sighs himself.

   Kenny: Are you okay, dude?

   Stan: I understand onto why you guys aren’t into dinosaurs or any other paleontology stuff as much as me, but still, I wish that I can have at least one friend that’ll either appreciate or even have the same love for dinosaurs as I do.

   Kenny: I’m very sure that you’ll across with someone that’ll not just have at least some appreciation to dinosaurs, but that person could also have some more similarities with you than you’ll ever expect.

   Stan: I hope you’re right, Ken. I would love for it to happen sooner than later.

   While Stan and his friends all head to Chill’s for lunch, a huge moving truck is parked next to a house that once belonged to the Marsh family. A car parks into its drive way, and then one of the car’s door is opened. It was Lydia. Her family had finally reached to their new home.

   Lydia: South Park sure does have wonderful viewing of the mountains from down here.

   She takes some pictures of the mountains with her camera.

   Charles: Pumpkin, we need some help over here to unpack.

   Lydia: Coming, father.

   She first grabs a big box that’s filled with her horror movie collection as she enters into her new home, and then walks upstairs.

   Lydia: Which room is mine?

   Delia: Choose between either the one room that has the grey rug, or the other room that has the blue-green mix coloring rug.

   Lydia: Okay.

   She first enters into what was once Shelly’s room. While she did liked the grey rug, the room didn’t have a good window viewing of the mountains because it’s blocked by a next door neighbor house, and its closet was too small for her. Lydia then goes into Stan’s old bedroom. The room has a better window view of the mountains, and a closet that’s more suited to fit in a lot of her stuff.

   Lydia: I’m taking the room that has the blue-green mix coloring rug.

   Delia: Alrighty then. I’ll be taking the other room for my art gallery.

   Lydia: Sounds good then, mother.

   Meanwhile outside, Stan and his friends were on their bikes as he noticed a huge truck that seems to be parked close to his old house.

   Stan: What the hell? Guys, hold on just a second.

   Kyle: What is it, dude?

   Stan: I really need to see this.

   Stan rides off as his friends follows from behind, and as he got close enough to see what’s going, he was in such disbelief. A moving truck is parked right beside off his old front yard, huge art sculpts were being brought into the house, and he even notices a couple of a red haired woman and a blonde man. He can hear them talking.

   Charles: Which room did our daughter take?

   Delia: The one room that has a nice view of the rocky mountains and the blue-green mix coloring rug.

   Charles: So I guess that means you’ll be taking the other room for your art collection?

   Delia: I’m so excited to get started on some of my new sculpt works.

   Charles: Just don’t forget that we promised our pumpkin to make her a dark room for her photos works, okay?

   Delia: Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about that, Charles. *laughs a bit*

   Stan couldn’t believe it for what he was hearing. His old house, the very place in which he spend nearly his entire life at, can no longer return there because it now belongs to a new family. He begins to tear up.

   Kenny: Stan? 

   Stan sobbing: I…I… I need to be alone for a while.

   He rides off without his friends.

   Kyle: Stan, wait!

   They catch up to him.

   Kyle: Dude, let’s pull over and talk about this.

   Stan pulls over right by the bus stop sign, and then his friends pulls over too.

   Kyle: Stan, we’re all so sorry for just seeing on what happened over there. We’ve all dreamed of you returning here someday, and we’re now just as heartbroken as you are.

   Stan sobbing: That place right there, it was my most favorite place to be at in the entire world. Some of my most favorite memories were build in that house. It was also where I got started to make my life worth something. But now that place no longer exist. It has been taken away from me. All I have now to live at is in that fucking hellish place that is called Tegridy Farms! MY ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE IS NOW FOREVER RUINED!!! *breaks into tear*

   Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman all look at Stan in a disheartening look. Kenny steps in to comfort him.

  Kenny: Stan, buddy. I may not be the greatest friend that you ever had, but damn it, if there’s anything that can break my heart so deep, it’s seeing any of my family and friends in such an emotional break down. Life isn’t always far, and we’ve all experience at least once a while. But we can’t also let that moment take over our lives forever. We have to carry on with our lives as it still has a lot of more great fun surprising moments ahead of us. And we promise to make your life as very well worth it as we can.

   Stan clams himself down and then clears off his tears.

   Stan: Thank you, Kenny. And you’re not by all means a terrible friend. You always have our backs when you need you most, you’re really fun to hang out with, and you’re such a pro in cheering people up. And for those reasons, I’m very grateful to have you as a wonderful friend.

  Kenny smiling: Ah, come here!

   Stan gives Kenny a huge hug as Kyle and Cartman also joins in.

  Cartman: Tell you what dude, while we’re at Chill’s, you can talk to us about anything you want. We’ll even listen if you have to say anything about dinosaurs.

   Kyle: And today’s lunch is on all three of us.

   Stan smiling: Thanks, you guys. Let’s now have our lunch.

   Kenny: Lead us the way, Stan.

   Stan leads his friends to Chill’s as he puts on a joyful look on his face even though deep inside, he’s still emotionally broken about his old house.

   Meanwhile at the Deetzes’ new home, several hours later after unpacking everything and setting up her new room, Lydia was now at last all settled in.

   Lydia: Phew, I’m glad that everything is now in place. Time to give BJ a call. Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

   Beetlejuice pops up as he was having himself some beetle themed chips.

   Beetlejuice: Babes! I’m glad to see your face again that isn’t just another picture frame.

   Lydia: Welcome to my new room, Beetlejuice. What do you think of it?

   Beetlejuice takes a look around at Lydia’s new room. Her bed sits at where Stan’s bed used to be at, has a huge 5 shelf book case where she keeps all of her horror films and books at, her mirror and desk are placed at across to where her bed was at, and has a Dracula movie poster placed at her closet door. While checking out the new room, Beetlejuice couldn’t help but feel of it being a bit smaller than her old room.

   Beetlejuice: Lyds, I don’t mean to complain, but this room feels smaller than your old room. 

   Lydia: Yeah, I know. The only bedroom in this house that’s just as big as my old room is the master bedroom, but that room is now occupied by my parents.

   Beetlejuice: Well, that sucks. I don’t even know how long it’ll take me to get used to flying around a room this small. *bumps his head against the wall* Bumping your head, you know I hate it.

   Lydia: This room may not be perfect, but it at least has a wonderful viewing of the rocky mountains from my window.

   Beetlejuice checks out the window viewing of South Park and the mountains.

   Beetlejuice: Hmmm, those mountains sure can use a face. *uses his powers to give the rocky mountains each a face of Sylvester Stallone* Now I can officially rename those mountains as Mount Rocky Balboas. *laughs*

   Lydia: Beetlejuice!

   Beetlejuice: Sorry, sorry. You know how I gotta be myself all the time. *removes the faces off from the mountains* So anyways, how was your road trip?

   Lydia: It went pretty well. For much of the time, I was reading some of Edgar Allan Poe’s books while listening to music from my iPod. Including some by our old rock ’n roll band.

   Beetlejuice: Ah yes, the Brides of Funkenstein. *changes himself into Betty Juice while playing the drums* I’m getting dangerous, yeah!

   Lydia: Prudence sure was a pretty badass singer. *laughs*

   Beetlejuice: Ah, those were the days, Babes.

   Lydia: Anyway, during our road trip, we made one special pit stop at the Field Museum in Chicago that I’ve always dreamed of going to.

   Beetlejuice: What did you see over there? I imagine that it must’ve had a special exhibit on radioactive bugs.

   Lydia: Not exactly. While it did have a nice exhibit on bugs, the main reason onto why I wanted to go there so badly is because they have some of the most incredible fossil collection in America. Including fossils of extinct arthropods, mammoths, and one of the best known dinosaur fossil in the world, Sue the T. Rex.

   Beetlejuice: You never told me that you were into dinosaurs and paleontology, Babes.

   Lydia: Before I enter into the first grade, I was pretty much a big dinosaur buff. I used often read dinosaur books that had a lot of illustrations in it, watch those old Land Before Time movies, and I even had a stuff Brontosaurus that I named Belle. Dinosaurs will always hold a special place in my heart no matter what other hobbies I get into as I grow up.

   Beetlejuice: Well, if you still love dinosaurs a lot, then I’ll have to take you to a place call Extinction National Park.

   Lydia: Extinction National Park?

   Beetlejuice: It’s one of the few handful of national parks that still exists in the Netherworld. It’s where all the extinct species of plants and animals that used to live on Earth coexist together no matter what time period they’re from. It includes all extinct marine animals, giant insects, ice age animals, and yes, even the dinosaurs themselves.

   Lydia: Sounds freaking awesome!

   Beetlejuice: I haven’t been over there ever since shortly before I met you, although I still keep hearing from people that it still exist. The last time that I was over there was when I played a game of mud ball fight against those Woolly Mammoths and then after beating them, I rolled myself against their smelly fur for a couple hours.

   Lydia: We definitely need to make a trip over someday, but I sadly can’t do it right now.

   Beetlejuice: Why the hell not?

   Lydia: Because I gotta get started on getting ready for my first day of school here. And I would even like to explore on South Park has to offer.

   Beetlejuice: Can I tag along with you while exploring this town? Oh please, please, please, please, please!!

   Delia: *calling from downstairs* Lydia, we brought over pizza home for dinner!

   Lydia: Coming, mother! Sorry, Beetlejuice. We’re discuss this a little later tonight.

   Beetlejuice: Bring over a slice for me when you come back up, Lyds. I’ll like to add in some of my smelly beetles with it.

   Lydia: *giggles* Sure thing, BJ. See you in bit.

   As Lydia leaves, Beetlejuice was all alone in the bedroom. He looks through the window as he sees someone outside. It was Cartman riding on his bike while singing Carrie Underwood’s popular song: Before He Cheats.

   Beetlejuice: Woah, now that’s one big fatass kid. And here I thought that I’ve been putting on the weight myself pretty badly. 

   In the next chapter, Stan and Lydia meet each other for the first time.

[paradoxicalca]

[OC] Jack Eichel Takes Over the Sabres (An Alternate Reality)

(Previous parts of this series include: Jim Benninging the Canucks, Mike Milburying the Islanders, Don Cherry Drafts the Leafs, Tom Wilson-Proofing the Penguins, Dundon DIYs the Hurricanes, Re-Chiarelling the Oilers, Moneyballing the Sens, Covertly Tanking the Wild, and Frenchifying the Canadiens.)Part 1It's April 17th 2015, and the Buffalo Sabres have just suffered their first unintentional loss of the season: the draft lottery. GM Tim Murray thought that he and Connor McDavid would form the backbone of a new era for the Sabres - now all they have in common is that both of them are trying not to cry on national television. The consolation prize is Jack Eichel, a Boston University product who miles away is pounding down Sam Adamses and declaring "Buffalo... I'm coming for ya!" while privately wondering where exactly Buffalo is. When asked by the Sportsnet host how he feels about picking Eichel at #2, Murray blurts out "I'm disappointed for our fans."Flash forward to the draft itself. After two months of utter depression, Murray finally meets the #2 ranked prospect at a pre-draft interview featuring scouts, the coaching staff, and members of ownership. While they all seem very taken with the kid, Murray can't help but notice that Eichel refuses to make eye contact with him, speaking directly to owner Terry Pegula instead. But prospects are weird sometimes, and there are trades to focus on. He completes one with Colorado that afternoon to bring in Ryan O'Reilly, who will be the perfect #2 centre behind Conno- sorry, Jack Eichel - and acquires a number 1 goalie in Robin Lehner. He almost acquires the 16th pick in the draft, but Peter Chiarelli demands Zemgus Girgensons, and you can't trade away an all-star like him for pennies on the dollar.When Murray blankly calls Eichel's name on the draft stage that night, the young player looks at the sweater handed to him and says "where's the captain's 'C'?" Murray laughs, but Eichel does not. Once they get off the stage, the GM doesn't see Eichel for the rest of the night.Part 2Tim Murray arrives at his office a few days later to prepare for unrestricted free agency and is shocked to see it completely redesigned, covered in Boston University paraphernalia and pornographic posters. Leaning back with his feet on the GM's desk is the rookie, framed by the towering Buffalo skyline out the window behind him and chugging a tall can of Miller Lite."Jack, what the hell have you done to my office?""Your office? This is my office bud." The phone rings. "Hold on a moment."Murray sputters as Eichel picks up the phone. It's Avalanche GM Joe Sakic - Murray had inquired about a potential swap the night before."Hey. No, this isn't Mr. Murray, that bender's history. It's Jack Eichel. Yeah, I'm in charge now, what of it? The fuck did you just say to me? You wanna go bud? Don't call this number again you fuckin' turkey" Eichel yells, and slams the phone down. Murray gapes at him in horror.His secretary calls over from the reception area. "Sir, there's a call coming in from Brett Hull.""Who the hell is that?" Eichel asks. "Put him through I guess.""This is Brett Hull. If you talk to Mr. Sakic that way again I'll stick my foot in your crease.""Hang on bud, I know who you are! You were fuckin' useless in NHL 06, get the hell outta here."As he hangs up, Terry Pegula walks in. "Hey Jack, how are you settling in?"Murray interrupts "What the hell's going on here Terry? I just got here and this kid is making calls on my behalf?""I also made a few signings" Eichel adds. "Coupla beauties I went to school with, real gamers. Just some crafty roster moves ferda. "Tim Murray is bright red, fuming at the behaviour of his new rookie player and attempted usurper. He finally loses control."Jack, I swear to god if you don't start showing a little respect I'm gonna slap you in the pee-pee!"The room falls completely silent."Tim what the hell is the matter with you?" Terry Pegula says. "Jack was so right about you. You're fired."Utterly defeated, Murray takes one last look at his beautiful office view of downtown Buffalo before exiting. Before he can close the door an empty beer can hits him on the back of the head.Part 3GM Jack Eichel makes a number of unusual decisions.He signs every eligible player from his Boston University team and fires recently hired head coach Dan Bylsma in favour of David Quinn. Bylsma assumes that the jig is up and that Eichel has merely figured out he's a terrible coach, and leaves without even questioning it.He brings on two former players with no management experience, Paul Bissonnette and Ryan Whitney, as his assistant GMs. He also hires Mike Richards and Jarret Stoll as "scouts," although nobody ever sees them at any games and their salaries are much higher than everyone else on the staff's.Somewhat inspired by Peter Laviolette, he institutes a controversial "Wet Island" policy, asking players to commit to getting absolutely bombed in order to help the team win.He receives a reprimand from the National Hockey League for his official response to Ryan O'Reilly crashing his car into a Tim Hortons: "Honestly, that's fuckin' hilarious. That's classic Snook right there, holy fuck. Buddy musta been fuckin' hammered, I mean, this guy can pound em' down no doubt about it so if he's crashing into a Timmies you know that's at least a two-four deep. What a fuckin' beauty."He signs Eric Staal as a free agent, a move that confuses the hockey media considering the team's glut of centre talent. When asked what role he'll play on the team, Eichel replies "designated driver."It shouldn't work, but it does. Thanks to the lack of anything else to do in the city, the Sabres are able to form deep and lasting friendships in Buffalo's dazzling Holiday Inn bars and after-hours parking lot swap meets. This chemistry translates on the ice, as the Boston University boys bolstered by O'Reilly and Evander Kane start winning games at will. Robin Lehner, suddenly overcome with a deep sadness at the debauchery taking place around him every night, discreetly sobers up and fully dedicates himself to nobler endeavours (namely winning hockey games and volunteering for the Trump campaign). Sick of "that tall Finnish dork" Rasmus Ristolainen, GM Eichel trades him to Edmonton for Taylor Hall.In 2019, everything comes together. The acquisition of Jeff Carter and Drew Doughty from the rebuilding Kings and Jack Johnson from the Penguins puts the finishing touches on a championship roster, and it's truly a playoff run to half-remember. Eichel's Sabres look like the 1980s Edmonton Oilers both on and off the ice, defeating Lou Lamoriello's stone-faced and jealous Islanders in a four-game sweep to advance to the Cup final against the Vegas Golden Knights.Despite every player showing up 5 minutes before each game covered in glitter and missing half their paycheques, the Sabres roll over the Knights to win their franchise's first Stanley Cup. Tragically, Jack Eichel, the architect of it all, winner of the Hart, Jack Adams, and GM of the Year Award, suffers a career-ending arm laceration while trying to shotgun a bottle of champagne in the locker room and is forced to retire. [OC] Jack Eichel Takes Over the Sabres (An Alternate Reality) Source