#tag: katie answers things.... sometimes

[haljordangreenjedi]

how is Hal Jordan's mental health

the man has trauma out the ass, and post-parallax he has guilt out the ass, but he covers it with a lot of bravado.

#tag: katie answers things.... sometimes

[total-drama-brainrot]

Total Drama AU/Headcanon: Where everything is the same, except Noah is just as crazy/insane as Izzy and Eva, but he's much better at hiding it (with a sarcastic calm personality) ... Only Izzy, Eva and Owen know his true unhinged colors (and that's why they get along with him so well) .../// Duncan briefly saw it during the Total Drama Island Special Finale, when Duncan grabbed Noah's leg, but Noah escaped, and we didn't see HOW Noah escaped... In this AU, Noah bit Duncan's hand then gave Duncan a silent psychotic grin, which shocked Duncan and gave Noah time to escape (Noah basically pretending the bite and grin never happened) ... In TDWT, imagine if Alejandro ever found out that the sanest one on his Team is only PRETENDING to be sane! 😅

I've seen that one Scary!Noah AU floating about in the main tag lately, and I love the concept. There's so much that could be done with having someone like Noah (scarily smart, mostly motivated by either spite or The Bit, nerfed by his own laziness/apathy/hubris) have the added bonus of Going Apeshit sometimes. Either as a treat to himself, or as the natural consequence of his hidden nature.

It's like that "Izzy Isn't Crazy" theory, but in reverse. "Noah Is Crazy, He's Just Good At Masking".

In this AU, he and Izzy would get on like a house on fire.

Like recognises like, after all; Izzy would clock him as just as unhinged as herself at their first meeting, and probably confront him about his 'game plan' at the first chance she could (maybe that's why she was so quick to swap with Katie? A bid to get herself on the same team as Noah?). Noah would try to deny it at first, because he's supposed to be the 'lazy genius'- slipping from his allotted persona this soon into the competition would jeopardise his strategy!- but Izzy would reassure him that she can practically smell the crazy on him.

He'd live up to his title as 'The Schemer', by means of plotting pranks and other such events with Izzy. She'd use her status as the overt crazy girl to pull them off, and Noah would either help behind the scenes to abate his hunger for chaos, or live vicariously through Izzy's blatant mania whilst revelling in the fact that their plan(s) play out perfectly every time. Imagine how much better Izzy's bear suit prank would've been with a man on the inside- and now imagine how much better it would've been if Noah pretended to get eaten/mauled by bear!Izzy (using smuggled ketchup packets and A Lot Of Screaming to convince the Gophers of his demise)! (He'd play off the incident by blaming the whole thing on Izzy- saying she was the one who used the ketchup, and his screaming was just him being Rightfully Terrified of being eaten. Gotta keep up the charade!)

No one would suspect him either! Who would ever assume that slothful, apathetic Noah who complains about the trials and tribulations of 'hard work', 'effort' and 'physical activity' could be a friend and an accomplice to the unstoppable force of nature that is Izzy? He's always too busy shoving his nose into his book to ever consider befriending the crazy girl, there's no way Noah would even tolerate her! (/s)

I think he'd eventually reveal his true colours to Team E-scope plus Owen once their friendship is cemented off-screen. Noah isn't the trusting type (I'd clarify, but I'd end up writing a whole unrelated essay- maybe another time) and he's habitually secretive- his non-answers in the WT Character Interview and his Sierra-given title of "The Man of Mystery" attest to this- so he'd need to know that his friends are really his friends before letting himself be vulnerable/transparent with them, since any 'friendships' made on Total Drama always run the risk of being a ploy/fake. It is a social game, after all.

As for the Duncan Incident. Having Noah bite people is going to turn into a running gag for me at this point, because it's so fucking hilarious to imagine him in a scenario where he's forced/pressured into violence and immediately starts chomping down on someone. This weasel boy wasn't built for punches and kicks but On God can he use those pearly whites to cause some damage. (The human jaw has a surprisingly strong bite force. Noah absolutely knows this.)

I'd also like to suggest that Noah rips himself out of his cargo shorts after biting Duncan, leaving the punk with a bleeding handful of nerd shorts and an open wound for his troubles. He'd already let go of Noah by that point too; it's hard to maintain your grip on anything when you've got a manic bookworm tearing away at the tendons in your hands. So he's just sat there, terrified and concerned, nursing the throbbing, sluggishly bleeding bitemark on his hand and wondering how Noah managed to contort his usually stoic facial features into a grin so wild and feral.

And Noah races back to Izzy and Eva, face and teeth splattered in Duncan's blood, sans cargo shorts. Neither of them question it; Izzy has an idea of what he's done, since Noah's smugness levels have risen at least three tiers and he's smiling almost contentedly to himself, and Eva has learned how to Mind Her Own Business when it comes to Izzy and Noah's eccentricities (though she often shoots inquisitive looks towards Noah's red-painted face).

Then in World Tour? Alejandro is suffering. Noah's the only person on his team who isn't lacking braincells and/or completely unhinged (or so he thinks), and as such he's the latino's only lifeline to sanity on the forsaken jet. So when Duncan returns in London and seems scared of the harmless bookworm? That's concerning.

Assuming that Noah's a wee bit more savvy in this AU thanks to his subterfuge experience in Island, he probably wouldn't be as outwardly apparent in his distrust of Alejandro during the challenge- either that, or he'd be enjoying torturing Tyler too much to think about how much of an eel Alejandro is. So Alejandro wouldn't have any reason to want to eliminate him, if anything he'd be motivated to keep him around, if only to act as a buffer between himself and the idiocy of Team Chris.

Duncan's re-introduction and allocation to the team would be Alejandro's first inkling into the fact that Noah is more than he seems. When the delinquent is ushered to stand next to Alejandro and Noah, his pupils contract into pinpricks or terror, and his attention flickers between the aloof cynic to his side and an oval-shaped scar on his hand. The cynic shoots Duncan a friendly smile (Alejandro ignores how the smile doesn't quite reach Noah's eyes) and the punk turns sheet white.

Alejandro doesn't know what to make of it.

#something something a higher iq correlates with higher levels of crazy? #it got a little fic-y there at the end but i ADORE the concept of an unhinged dangerous noah playing coy with the cast #like a cat toying with the doormouse in it's claws instead of eating it #this noah would pin all of his actions on izzy and she'd gladly take the credit #in world tour he crashes the plane twice (whilst chef's on break) and izzy takes the fall both times #they enable each other in their mania and that's beautiful 😌 #listen the idea of having alejandro play detective against this noah in WT is interesting but i'm so caught up in the-- #euphoria of an izzy🤝noah chaos combo that i'm not gonna dive into it (yet) #total drama #td noah #td izzy #td duncan #td alejandro #silly ideas #others' ideas #psycho!noah au #(that's what i'll call this AU. i know 'psycho' is an iffy term but i'm using it lovingly. also it reminds me of psycho teddy so-) #tw violence #tw blood mention

[detectivebambam]

For the choosing violence thing.

I curious about your thoughts on 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 16,17,18,19,20,21,22,23,24, and 25

(Your thoughts make my day tbh)

lol i gotchu pinky

the character everyone gets wrong: Dan. she's not a badass. i mean she is, but she's not. she's a scared little girl who had to raise herself and has no idea what she's doing at any given time and i love her for it

why andrew would never top or bottom: actually he does both, and tends to enjoy it. kind of an agressive top but Neil likes it, and sometimes likes to follow orders when he bottoms 🫣 i think they do anything and everything with each other. Neil could be dominant or submissive at any given time, which gives Andrew space to learn about what he actually enjoys. He finds that as long as it involves Neil, he doesn't mind

worst tumblr take I've seen: that Andrew was a misogynist because he doesn't like being manipulated, and "manipulation is a woman's weapon" like how is THAT not misogynistic be so real

why did you block that annoying person?: kept saying that Kevin abused Riko as much as Riko abused Kevin. don't know how far they had to reach into the depths of their asshole to find that one, i just hope they didn't get stuck

i don't have discord

which ship fans are the most annoying: y'all are going to absolutely murder me for this but kevaaron. 1) where did it come from? 2) what's wrong with Katie?? 3) no hate ship what u want but also, i can ship what i want? and it's fine it's literally fine

what character did you start to hate because of fanon: i hate to say it but Thea. i adored her when I read the books originally, but after 4 years of exclusively fanon content i didn't like her. but i did a reread recently and adore her again so it's all good

common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about: Andrew being a sex god. Neil is his first consensual sexual partner. like yeah he knows how to suck dick like a dying man, which he learned in juvie (when he was 13-16?) but in terms of sex? he doesn't know what he's doing and he's probably really scared and nervous

worst part of canon: kevin and thea turning their daughter into a mini Raven 😔

worst part of fanon: Renee erasure 😔😔

fandom related words you've filtered: as of currently? anything tsc related because I don't have access to it yet and people aren't tagging properly. but I also have Rinee (rixo x renee) blocked because,,, what do you actually mean

unpopular character you like and why people should like them: Aaron. yeah he's an asshole and a little homophobic but he was raised that way and he's getting better

worst blorboification: if this means what i think it means, fucking riko. like wdym "he serves cunt" he needs to serve time

answered prev

answered prev

you can't understand why this is popular: kevaaron, any riko ship, riko himself, ichirou x neil, andreil breaking up in fics ?

there should be more of this: fic: oral fixation. sexual or non sexual idc but let's Freud these bitches. fanart: ANDREW WITH LONG HAIR PLS PLS PLS

it's criminal that y'all have been sleeping on: STUART HATFORD. LITERALLY NEXT TO WYMACK ON THE FATHER FIGURE SCALE. I LOVE HIM

you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like: i don't feel guilt I'm Presbyterian

part of canon you found boring: anytime they were in class like wdym

part of canon you think is overhyped: this one is going to get me in trouble so i wanna start off by saying that yes, Riko was a victim of abuse. I'm not disputing that at all. but the part where he got beat by Tetsuji and "was more blood and bruise than skin", while being horrible, was also because of Kevin leaving due to Riko breaking his hand. Tetsuji lost one of his biggest investments because of Riko's petty ego

fav part of canon that everyone ignores: Stuart Hatford man

ship you've unwillingly come around to: Kandreil lol. i didn't like it at first but idk the more fanfic i see I'm like yeah that could be cute

topic that brings up the most rancid discourse: picture this, if you will: Nora Sakavic says something about her own damn characters. yeah that's all

common fandom complaint you're sick of hearing: "it's poorly written" it's not. if you can get over the first chapter of The Raven King, the rest is actually written very well and it's so so beautiful and depicts traumatized characters in a way I haven't seen before that is very refreshing

ty for the ask pinky ily

#aftg #all for the game #andrew minyard #nora sakavic #the foxhole court #neil josten #andreil #kevin day #aaron minyard #jean moreau #alison reynolds #matt boyd #renee walker #stuart hatford #riko moriyama #tetsuji moriyama #dan wilds #nicky hemmick #kandreil #kateaaron

[nottawriter]

20 Questions More

This is a deeper and more detailed version of the 20 questions for AO3 fanfic writers. Thanks to @casualsavant for the tag.

1) How do you keep getting ideas for your ship / fandom? Supercorp brainrot… I see a picture or meme or video, I watch a movie or read a synopsis, I hear a song and it reminds me of them. They are ever present in my mind. I cannot escape (nor do I want to) and therefore, you cannot escape :chaos laugh:

2) Which authors inspire you in your fandom, and why are they so freakishly good? There are sooo many super talented people in the Supercorp fandom. I’m constantly impressed and overwhelmed with the volume of amazing content. There are the fandom favs: @lostariels, @jazzfordshire, @searidings, @lynnearlington, @coffeeshib, @mycatismyeditor, @lgbtimelords and @melui-the-bookworm, and there are personal favs: @snowydragonscave, @fazedlight, @casualsavant, @luthordamnvers, @gveret-fic, @briefunknowntrash, @cantdrawshaw, @karalovesallthegirls, @vox-ex, Veritas33 (AO3), @writershapeholeonthedoor… Sooo much talent. I just want to read all the time!

3) Aside from the characters of your main ship, who are the characters you love to write? I love all the side characters. I think the relationships in Supergirl are what make Kara and Lena so great and relatable. After Kara and Lena, I think I’m most comfortable writing Alex, but I enjoy writing almost everyone. My WHBL series is an ensemble-cast style story that is primarily Lena pov, but has other povs throughout.

4) Are there pairings or tropes you know for sure you’d never write about? Which ones? I’m not a fan of writing Kara or Lena outside of Supercorp unless in reference to their past relationships. I’m not sure if I would rule any specific trope out completely

5) What is your writing process and why is it cursed? Sav’s answer for this one is pretty relatable lol but uh… I typically put notes in my phone if I don’t have paper/pen handy. I use Excel to plot out timelines and chapters. I like to use color to show what I still need to write versus what’s done or what’s uncertain. I use a simple Word doc and typically write in story order, though if I write a scene I like, but don’t like it’s placement, I’ll cut it out and save it separately for potentially using later or in a different fic. I struggle with writer’s block, anxiety, guilty, sooo much uncertainty. It’s stressful and sometimes overwhelming… But I’m still here, so I suppose getting the story out into the world is all worth it in the end.

6) What is your favorite part of your writing process? I enjoy the research, having something completed and ready to post (if not the anxiety of actually posting), and I enjoy reading the comments

7) What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to research for a fic? Um, probably sniper rifle stuff

8) Is there a particular writing rule you struggle with (grammar, spelling, tense, reality in general)? I catch myself switching tense all the time. I try to catch it all in editing, but don’t always succeed.

9) What was your hardest scene to write so far and why? Pretty much all of Evermore because it’s Kara’s dreamscape with mixed references to Wizard of Oz and Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven combined with The Adjudicator’s last scene. I think it actually came out well, but it’s really different and specific, so it’s gotten low interaction.

10) Have your characters ever done something you didn’t expect, changing your plot completely? 100%

11) If you could converse with any of the characters, who would it be and why? I would be in awe to meet Kara or Lena. They’re iconic and these huge symbols for so many feelings and thoughts I’ve tried to convey, but they’re also very relatable characters who’ve suffered through much. I hope I do them justice with my writing. I know others do it so much better... I would also love to meet Melissa or Katie. I hope they know how many lives they've impacted for the better.

12) What are some of the tropes or themes that you find yourself returning to in your writing? Originally, I wrote a lot of mental health themes and hurt/comfort, currently it’s fluff and smut or rom-com. I guess it depends a lot on what emotional headspace I’m in and capable of conveying. Almost always there’s some angst, but I gotta have a happy ending. Whether I’m reading or writing. A happy ending always.

13) What’s your most important resource as a writer? Talking with other writers! I’ve been so thankful to meet so many great ones this year <3

14) Can you share some of your strategies for editing and revising your work? I do many rereads, before and after I post. I will go back and reread before I add more to a story as well, esp if it’s been a while since I wrote for it. I’ve also gotten someone else to read over fics from time to time.

15) Which is worse: making the summary, picking the tags, or the anxiety when you post your fic? All of that gives me anxiety lol

16) How do you define success for your fanfic - hits? Kudos? Comments? Bookmarks? Or just if you like it? I try really hard not to define “success” when it comes to my writing. You never know what other people are going to like or connect with. First and foremost, I write for me. Secondly, I write for the enjoyment of others. I like to see kudos, but ultimately it’s the comments that are most encouraging. Seeing even just 1 person connect with a story that I wrote… there’s no feeling like that.

17) Do you have a playlist for your favorite character / ship? I don’t, but there are songs or artists I associate with the characters, esp Supercorp- Taylor Swift, Hozier, Lord Huron… Not the question, but there’s a video edit by @talconnect with Running with the Wolves that fits perfectly for Kara. https://twitter.com/TalArtM/status/1658567350046674967 I love it.

18) If fan art was going to be made from your work, which fic would you pick and which fan artist would you like to create it? I recently commissioned a piece for one scene in I Believe in a Thing Called Love and there are a couple of other scenes in that one that I would have done. Really, I would appreciate any scene though. It would be an honor to have someone chose one of my works for something like that and I would be stoked to see any of it.

19) How many WIPs do you currently have? Active WIPs: 4 (What Has Been Lost, Wouldn’t It Be Nice, I Believe in a Thing Called Love, and Tis the Damn Season); Mayhem WIP idea to be started soon. A few others always percolating

20) What’s your advice to new fanfic writers? I had no idea what I was doing or that I even wanted to write when I started. You can’t improve until you try. You can’t learn until you make mistakes. Just try. I’ll keep Sav’s advice as well: Write for yourself. Write what you’d want to see. You’ll get better at it over time.

My fics: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notta_Writer/works Tagging but no pressure: @itsalliebitheway @jetgirl1832 @flyingpotstickers @sneezewizard

#supercorp #supercorp fanfic

[mareenavee]

All the Lines Tag Game!

AUGh I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Okay thank you to @throughtrialbyfire and @miraakulous-cloud-district for the tags! I am thus tagging @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @thequeenofthewinter, @gilgamish, @rhiannon1199, @elfinismsarts, @kookaburra1701, @dirty-bosmer, @nuwanders, @ladytanithia, @polypolymorph, @saltymaplesyrup and @archangelsunited!! And, you if I didn't tag you. Tag me back! I want to see!

Here are the questions for the tag game right here! Fill them out!

Without further ado, read on for some lines for The World on Our Shoulders!

A line from your fic that makes you laugh

Chapter 25: A Perfect Storm

“Then why did you not poison the Dragonborn?” Teldryn ventured. He’d already taken the coin purse from the bench next to the Thalmor without being noticed. He grinned as the man’s face twisted through several different emotions until he buried his face in his hands. “Oh, please. At this point, you must know I never did claim to be a good double agent,” the Thalmor lamented. Teldryn let out a loud cackle.

I have a few zingers lol but Varlais, Varlais. He's the comic relief here.

A line from your fic that makes you sad

Chapter 8: Haunted By the Ghost of You

“I can’t do this by myself, love. I really need you here,” he whispered to the ghost of the girl he remembered, singing in the kitchen with autumn eyes full of love and hope. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. She was gone, and Athis knew no matter when Nyenna next came home, that girl in his memories would never, ever return.

Bean </3 Poor, poor Athis 😭 Why did I do this to him? augh.

A line from your fic you're proud of

Chapter 26: Voice Within

More and more of its lair started to fall away back into the void, or else Oblivion; patches of reality pulled forward, stark against the ruined illusion. Varlais, face set in a severe scowl, took its moment of weakness as a signal and pulled an ebony dagger from somewhere in his coat. He rushed at the Atronach, stabbing into it with all the force he could muster. As with ice, silence shattered.

I just really loved this entire scene actually. It causes so much trouble for CHAPTERS after this. And it's excellent.

A line for your fic you think could have been better

Chapter 3: A World of Fragile Things

“Of course you do,” the second vampire said. Her voice seemed calm, distant. This one was a Nord at one point, tall and imposing. She was casting a spell of some kind, but it hurt. Nyenna looked down at her hands and was shocked to see the color being drained from her, her hands almost skeletal. She screamed then, terror getting the better of her and clouding her mind.

I kind of wished I pushed the description of this magic a little bit further. I do love editing and I'm still in awe of past Katie for how far she's gotten so far. So I'm still fine with this line but it was an opportunity I didn't take.

A line from your fic that makes you want to punch a character.

Chapter 19: Although I am Already a Danger

“You seemed to be having a hard time. Nothing a sweetroll can’t fix, I figured. Want to talk about it?” he offered. Nyenna gave him an apprehensive look. She didn’t really want to talk to him particularly about all her nonsense, but if she didn’t, it would be harder to focus moving forward with all that had to be done in the next few days. “No. But I’ll tell you anyway,” she said. He scoffed. She ate the piece of sweetroll she held before continuing. “I…was not the best wife. I ran away in the middle of the night. It was unkind. I knew it was when I did it, but just like he followed me into battle with a dragon, I knew if I didn’t simply go, he’d turn his back in another horrible situation all because of me. And after everything I’ve been through, I just…I guess I couldn’t handle watching him get injured again. Or worse, as it sometimes goes with dragons.”

There are a few instances where Nyenna makes really stupid mistakes. Extremely stupid mistakes. And this, innocuous though it seems, is one of them. One of the huge ones. I think only @paraparadigm caught it. I was yelling when I wrote this. Like "REALLY NYENNA?!" On the other side of the coin, she's used to people behaving like Teldryn had before this; it was expected. When that dust settled, and he was elsewise, well. She just blabbed.

A line from your fic that makes you go 'aww'

Chapter 6: Together, We Are Enough (slightly longer snippet, I can't help it lol)

She made him feel less alone, after so long and so much struggle. They could build something beautiful together. He hoped. Better to ask and be sure. He was still grinning, and no longer cared a whit who saw, or who had comments or jokes to make on the matter. He was happy. Actually happy. And he loved her with all his heart. It may not have been a long time, but it felt right. And so he’d worn the pendant. And he had hoped. And here she was, an Amulet of Mara in her hands. “Well?” he asked, after a moment. “You want to marry…me?” she asked with a giggle. “Won’t lie. I do,” Athis answered. He felt his face get hot. Other people were shushing each other up near Jorrvaskr. A few people had even wandered further down the stairs to better spy on them. “What about you?” She gasped and all but danced in place. She held onto the amulet with both hands, staring at it just for a moment. She let it fall to her chest. She looked him right in the eye and beamed. “Of course, of course!” she squealed. She threw her arms around his neck again and he embraced her back. “Then it’s settled. It’s you and me, love,” Athis whispered, squeezing her tightly before lifting her up and spinning around. There was a huge roar of applause behind them, as the Companions and a few townsfolk there for Anoriath’s event celebrated with them. Athis laughed deeply, embracing his soon-to-be wife. They walked back up to Jorrvaskr, hand in hand, into the crowd of merry friends and feast-goers.

A line from your fic that's full of symbolism

Chapter 27: Echoes

He reached for her then, running as fast as he could toward her. He seemed to run forever, never getting any closer. As if his hands were blocked somehow. She never came into focus. Instead, the figure — who wasn’t at all Nyenna — turned, silvery hair curling back on itself like a stole. The figure threw its head back in a wicked laugh that broke through the buzz. The hair morphed into the form of a silver snake, twisting over the figure’s shoulders and arms, which they held out to either side. The snake’s scales slowly shifted golden in hue. Teldryn couldn’t see the figure’s face. He never got close enough. A sword in their other hand glinted in the light from the moonless sky, driven into the ground at their feet. Still, the image wasn’t quite clear. Still, he could not reach.

I almost linked the entire fanfic.

A line from your fic that contains an Easter egg

“Ground rules,” she said, trying to seem aggravated. “Keep those thoughts to yourself, especially in public.” “As you wish, sera,” Teldryn said, still beaming. She rolled her eyes. Geldis gave him a harsh look as he dropped off two bowls of porridge and two mugs of canis root tea, but said nothing.

I always yell about all the Tolkien references so, instead, have this Princess Bride easter egg instead :>

A line from your fic that's shocking

Chapter 1: Prologue

“I don’t regret us, for the record. My fear has nothing to do anymore with where we are and how much stronger we’ve become. We’re supposed to be together. She’s supposed to exist,” Nyenna said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She drummed her fingers over his hands which still lay on her stomach. “She? More like he," Teldryn scoffed in a teasing tone. He paused, waiting for her retort, and chuckled instead in the silence. “You keep saying that,” Nyenna said and shook her head. She laughed too, especially as the little one kicked at their touch, restless and relentless. Teldryn kissed the side of her jaw near her ear and she sighed. “I’d have never made it through any of this without you, you know.” “You would have. I see you. You’re stronger than you know,” he replied. He always said the right things at the right time. She wondered briefly how he always seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear.

I could've linked the entire prologue lol. I laid everything out on the table right at the beginning. Perhaps this isn't shocking anymore for most of you LOL but I mean...sorta yeah. There's more that probably would be. But it's not published yet. :>

A line from your fic you want to talk about more

Chapter 27: Echoes (longer snippet again lol)

“Tell me what to do,” he said after a moment. “Oh, I really hate this, though,” Neloth said, apprehension sounding odd and incongruous for him. “There’s a reason people don’t practice this way. It might seem like nothing to you now that you’ve already accomplished the connection. That it brought forth memories of immature jokes should have told me enough… But… I’ve seen people disintegrate, their Magicka pools just… gone. In an instant. I’ve… Well, I’ve done it to someone before, myself.” Teldryn stopped short. “Jokes aside, Neloth, but…you? With someone else?” When Neloth fell silent and pensive instead of digging back at him, Teldryn knew something was wrong. His stomach lurched again as the old wizard opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and ground his teeth against whatever he was holding back. He cleared his throat before he was able to make his point. “Yes, I… It was during the Oblivion Crisis. We closed a gate that opened at Sadrith Mora. We were… We were without resources, but…” He trailed off, grief and anger crossing his brow like a squall. His eyes went dark. “I thought I didn’t care about her at the time. My apprentice.” He smoothed his robes and sighed heavily. “We were the last two mages left alive and the Redoran hadn’t gotten anywhere near the settlement yet. Neither of us were enough on our own. The option was this… indecent spellwork or both of us dying trying to break the siege of Dremora ourselves.” He fidgeted with his sleeve and looked anywhere else except at Teldryn. “It had been our last resort. I reached and she answered and then in a moment, she was gone. Ashes. Like she’d never even existed. But I still remember her. And I remember the sound of it…of her Magicka evaporating… like it was yesterday.” He cleared his throat and glanced up at the ceiling. “She wasn’t weak by any means. This happened anyway. And I… I still feel like I’ve lost something of myself all these years later. Something I’ll never get back.”

NELOTH BACKSTORY. I could and probably will write more fic set before the events of World and include more of this. More of what this person meant to Neloth, and more of what this event really caused for him personally, for House Telvanni, for his standing in the Council, for the outcome of the Oblivion Crisis. Everything. Oh it'll be so much fun.

#MareenaWrites #AskMareena #tag games #lines #wip whenever #The World on Our Shoulders #Nyenna #Athis #Teldryn #Teldryn Sero #Neloth #LDB/Teldryn Sero #LDB/Athis #skyrim #skyrim fic #tes #tesblr #elder scrolls #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr

[goodluckclove]

WIP Tag Game!

Whoa tagged again by the brilliant @ivaspinoza! Check her out if you're down for what I imagine to be some intense bloodsucking existentialism!

I'll do this for all of Songbird Elegies as a whole. I'm on book two right now - Blind Trust comes out June 20th!

Read below to hear some things about the origins of the series that I haven't actually said yet and probably won't say again.

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

Funny story! I hadn't written anything tangible for months since leaving my terrible copyrighting job. I was absolutely miserable. I ended up leaving my second job because of a medication problem and spent a week in bed detoxing off of Seroquel withdrawal - bad bad don't do that if you can help it. After that I fell into recovery and just had no idea what to do with my days.

The turning point was when I sent an email going fully no-contact with my across-the-board abusive parents. They did some awful things across the course of my life and I'm still spending a good chunk of time making up for their ridiculous medical neglect. I might need throat surgery because of them. Not great! But anyways, I sent that email and wrote the first 15 pages of Blind Trust later that day, sitting on the floor while my wife took a nap on the couch. It just came out. Wife said they liked it so I just kept going.

Three months and two data losses later and the first draft was done!

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I have so many Songbird Elegy playlists oh my God. It's hard to say, and the answer will change, but right now it's "Love Me, Normally" by Will Wood.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

They're all very important to me for different reasons. Scott is the one I tend to talk about the most because he captures a lot of mania and upbeat romanticism, qualities of myself that I value despite the obvious faults. Edgar is just as important, but they represent a lot of my current struggles and I'm doing a lot of healing and processing through them which is good but less - you know - fun?

Tenzin reminds me of my wife with her quiet stoicism. Katy reminds me of my older sister and everything she sacrificed to keep me and my siblings alive. She's more of a mother to me than my own mother. My sister is actually the first person to finish Blind Trust after I finished it.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Disco Elysium maybe? Griffin and Sabine - has anyone else read that? The Witcher, but specifically the novels? Requiem for a Dream for later books. Tales of the City in terms of tone and character focus. Fleet Foxes and Hoizer and early Decemberists?

Good, warm soup. If you like a bowl of good, warm soup, you will enjoy Songbird Elegies.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

Definitely Edgar's arc. Their experience with their metaphorical (or are they??) inner child and the abuse they've been working to escape and recover from has been hard to look at directly. Especially once I introduced Scott's mother, who's turned into a weird mix of the maternal figure I wish I had and the one I feel I could've been if I chose that path.

Yesterday I found myself writing how I wish it went when my wife met my parents, through Scott and Edgar meeting Scott's mom. The sharing of parental pride and affection despite potential embarrassment. It's a cute scene, but there's a lot of grief in there for me. I wonder if it'll show.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Wilford Brimley is Katy's pet Persian cat. He is old and weird and a little fucked up. I had to edit his introduction in Blind Trust because it was six (small) paragraphs and Wife told me that was unreasonable (skill issue), but I can include some canon info:

He shoves his paw under the bathroom door while people are in the bathroom

He likes feet

Edgar sometimes shares little bits of cheese with him

Once he fell asleep in Edgar's lap but then peed in his lap and just kept sleeping in the piss

Edgar treat him like a weird cousin he has to make conversation with during holidays

Wilford thinks he's his brother and an equally fucked up cat

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Cars mostly! Edgar has a shitty used car that's always close to breaking down. Katy has a newer car that's still used, but she takes very good care of it - I think it's a Fiat. I think Tenzin probably uses the car Scott's Dad left behind after he died, which is a vintage Cadillac convertible that Scott's Mom fixed up.

Scott is the only one without a license since he essentially has a magical dissociative disorder and hasn't yet felt safe behind the wheel. In Blind Trust he's taken every form of public transit to cross the country. I think when he was younger he used to skateboard to get around Bluerose.

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

I'm close to 40k into book two!

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

I have hopes that people will enjoy the tenderness of it. I'm like a reverse-whump ace writer, in that I've written a series that's aggressively pro-comfort and recovery. People start off in pretty sorry states and then make the difficult effort to put themselves and each other back together.

There's explicit ace representation in Scott and aroace rep in Katy (she doesn't know it yet though shhh). Edgar comes out as Agender and changes pronouns midway into the series, but still keeps presenting as androgynous/masc leaning. There's diversity in body types and gender identities in a way that feels warranted to me - Scott has Klinefelter's and grew up taking T, and he made a best friend that came out so she could take her E with him. Same goes with disabilities in prominent characters, though the main four focus on what I have personal experience in.

As a disabled queer writer I hope to make a series that tells a fantastical story about people like me that doesn't pander specifically to my market.

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

I hope people read it. I hope they like it. It'd be cool if I could talk to people about it. I've been pretty deep in the Songbird Elegy fandom for some time now haha.

On a more serious note I hope there's a market for non-sexualized romances that are still hyper intimate. I know I'm into it but I'm still not sure if other people are. I'd like to create more media about positive and fulfilling ace relationships, both romantic and platonic. I'm tired of people seeing that type of life as a loss. Any healthy companionship is not a loss.

I want people to read Songbird Elegies and think about the love in their lives and in themselves. All of it, in every way. Yeah.

I tag @ryns-ramblings! I wanna hear about your thing!

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing community #blind trust #writing #on writing #migration patterns #queer writers #agender #asexuality #songbird elegies #authors of tumblr

[squid-princess-teach-swallow]

Meet My MC: Kate Brookes

Full Name: Katherine Alicia Brookes

Book: The Royal Romance

Love Interest: Maxwell Beaumont

Faceclaim: Kaya Scodelario

Nicknames: Kate (she prefers it to Katherine), Katie-pie (by her family), little blossom (by Maxwell), Brookes (by Drake)

Hair: Wavy, black, little more than shoulder-length

Eyes: Blue-green

Birthday: 31st May

Hometown: New York City

Parents: Christopher and Emilia Brookes; they passed away in a plane crash when Kate was in college

Sibling: Kara Brookes; she's 4 years older than Kate, but they look so alike that they sometimes get mistaken for twins; Kara currently manages a lifestyle blog, and lives in San Francisco; Kara and Kate used to be very close as kids, but after their parents' death they grew apart also it's worthy to note that Kara is based off of #LoveHacks MC

Astrological Sign: Gemini

Education: BA in Political Science; she wanted to complete her higher studies but due to the sudden death of her parents she couldn't pursue her dreams and so she started to work as a waitress

What she likes:

Food: Burgers

Drink: Lemonade

Season: Summer

Time of the Day: Night

Animal: Dogs

Colour: Blue

What she dislikes:

Being told what to do especially by Bertrand

Following rules

Waking up early in the morning

Showing off

People who underestimate her

Hobbies:

First up, ofc it's dancing! It was one of the first things Kate and Max bonded over. She doesn't prefer any specific style. All she needs is to let loose and dance like nobody's watching. When she's happy, she'll dance. When she's sad, well, she'll still dance, but slowly and less energetic.

Next, sports. She's an active and energetic person, she hates being still, and has to do something. Her favourite sport is baseball, she was the team captain in her high school and her team has won a lot of games under her leadership. She does play other sports occasionally like football, volleyball and basketball.

And lastly, a little unexpected, but: cooking. A lot of her memories of her family revolves around all of them cooking together on weekends, so it has a special place in her heart. So, even though she isn't particularly skilled at it, she makes sure she takes some time to cook something special every week.

If you have any other questions about her, just ask and I'll answer it and add it to this post!

Tags: @robintora

#playchoices #choices stories you play #the royal romance #trr mc #mc: kate brookes #came for the prince fell for the lord #trr fanfiction #choices trr #choices the royal romance

[kay-elle-cee]

Interview Music Tag Game

Thank you so much for the tag @itsjamespotter, this looks so fun!

RULES: Put your playlist on shuffle. For each of the 10 interview questions, select a lyric from the random song that comes up (skip if there aren’t any lyrics and make sure to drop the name of the song in your interview answer).

1. First off, how would you describe yourself in one sentence? See, I've been bravin' crazy weather/Drownin' out my cries/I pull myself together/I'm focused on the prize. — Broadway, Here I Come by Jeremy Jordan/SMASH Cast

2. What kind of [insert zodiac sign] are you? And when you feel the war cannot be won/You're gonna die to try what can't be done. (Scorpio!) — Spotlight by Mutemath

3. You’re visiting your favorite spot, what are you thinking about? If we'd kept heading the same direction/Would we be home by now? — Home By Now by MUNA

4. If your life was a movie, what do you think the first review would say about it? Cancel your reservations, no more hesitations this is on. — Cut To The Feeling by Carly Rae Jepsen

5. Say you get a book deal, what are you titling your memoir? Stop there, and let me correct it. — New Perspective by Panic! at the Disco

6. What would you say about your best friends? Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby/And I'm a monster on the hill/Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city. — Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift

7. Think back to when you had everything all figured out in high school, what was your life motto as a teenager? Turn up the music let's get out on the floor. — Evacuate the Dancefloor by Cascada

8. Describe your aesthetic now: Screamin', "I'm in love with you". — The Other Side of the Door by Taylor Swift

9. What’s a lyric that they’ll quote in your eulogy? Don't worry about me/'Cause I'll be fine. — Damn Regret by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus*

10. And for our final question, say we believe in soulmates, what do you think their first impression of meeting you will be? Oh I won't settle no, oh I can't settle. — Fingerprints by Katy Perry

Tagging some people who have undoubtedly added to my music tastes this last year (@thequibblah, @oyprongs, @firefeufuego2), @emeralddoeadeer @uncertainwallflower, @flyingpalomita and whoever else feels like it! *I feel the need to clarify that I chose this instead of "I'm wishing you were here" not in like....a depressing way, but like in the way that I'm always worried about other people and it'd be like a reassuring like 'don't worry about us' type of thing. Okay, carry on.

#music tag game #tag game #me

[blooming-violets]

hey katie :] kind of looking for some advice here so thought i would turn to one of my favorite bloggers<3 any ideas how to get more asks/anons? i can never seem to get any interaction:( is there something that shows im open to reqs and asks?

When I ask for something specific, like requests or an ask game or something, I will always tag the post with tasm related tags since that's what I write for: (the amazing spiderman, tasm, tasm x reader, peter parker, peter parker x reader, tasm peter x reader, tasm peter parker x reader, spiderman, tasm fic, andrew garfield, tasm andrew garfield, peter parker andrew garfield...stuff like that) That way people who might be searching those tags will know that I am open and available to receive requests. If you don't tag it then it's very likely that your post will get lost in the shuffle on tumblr since the way the feed works makes things get lost very easily. Use the top five tags to be ones you want to reach the most. Leave the last tags for anything related to your own blog that you use for sorting stuff, those are unimportant and should always be last.

Also, if you do get a request that is from a specific post, make sure that you link to the original post in the ask. Like when I was asking for the moodboard blurbs a little while ago, I made sure to link to the og post it came from in all of the asks that I got for that topic. That way people know that it's something I am looking for if they liked what they read and wanted to send me one themselves. AND then make sure you tag tf out of your posts as well. Tagging is the best way to get your stuff seen.

Don't be afraid to make a shameless post asking for requests. I find that people like when you a little specific too. (Ex: Hi, I'm a fic writer for The Amazing Spider-Man. I'm looking for some requests if you have any! I love to write angst and dark!peter. If you have any ideas feel free to send them my way and I'll see what I can do. *link to my ask box* *then tag the shit out the post with everything tasm related* *and then hope someone sends somethings*)

Usually what will happen is I will only get one or two requests off that first post. Then once I answer those requests, doing all the things I mentioned above, that is when the requests really start flowing in. It's almost like I first get an ask from someone who already follows me or is already a friend of mine and knows I'm looking for them, I put something out in return, that thing starts getting notes or is reblogged by a bigger blogger, people see that, click the link to the original post, and then it starts to gain traction.

But also keep in mind that it wasn't like that when I first started out. I remember asking for something once and getting nothing and being bummed af about it. I wasn't until I started becoming friendly with other writers and starting to make myself be a part of the community that I saw a change happen. You could do everything I mentioned and still not get what you're looking for because sometimes tumblr just eats posts that don't have many notes.

The best advice I can really give is: Befriend other writers who write similar things as you. Reblog their work, comment things you loved about it on it, and support them. And, in return, they are much more likely to do the same for you. Plus you can probably make some badass awesome friends too.

Sorry that was so long. I'm a rambler. I hope it helped in some way and let's be friends. I will gladly reblog your things! I don't have as many followers as other people but I will do what I can to help out.

#asks #writing tips

[the-menage-system]

For the System Ask:

💭 - If you have one, what does your headspace look like? Can either be in detail or just a simple answer!

🎤 What is everyone’s favorite songs?

🔥 Which alters are the most chaotic?

🦌 Any non-humans in your system?

-Mhedaeve/Telmar

First of all, thank you so much for sending an ask in!

And next, here are our answers!

We'll do the headspace one last.

🎤 - Here's a list!

Alex (Me) 🃏 - Liquid Smooth by Mitski, Pink Panther by Scene Queen, and S-x With A Ghost by Teddy Hyde (last two are very inappropriate btw)

Token 🪙 - Sunday Best by Surfaces

Jinny 🕷- Both by Todrick Hall (that song is very inappropriate btw)

Melody/Crystal 🍃 - Olivia by One Direction

Torch ⚒️ - Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Natsuki 💟 - #BrooklynBloodPop! by SYKO

Yuri 🖋 - A Pearl by Mitski

Sayori 🌼 - Send Me No Flowers by Doris Day

Monika 📝 - Dance In The Dark Au/Ra

Peko Pekoyama ⚔️ - Army by Arcando, Besomorph, and Neonii

Sonia Nevermind 🏰 - The Bidding by Tally Hall

Amarah 🦄 - Shake It Off by Taylor Swift

Kai 💥 - Roar by Katy Perry

🔥 - Probably Royal and Kai. Sometimes Natsuki and the syskids.

🦌 - Yup! We have two solid shadow people, a centaur, an elf, and a glitchy humanoid. Also, I myself am a polykin, so I kinda count? In total, 6/16.

And finally, the headspace.

💭 - We have a very intricate headspace, it's not complete yet, but still very detailed.

And I am very sorry, but I'm not good at explaining things, so I'll try my best to describe this, but it may be a bad explanation.

It is kinda like a small house/hotel mix, when you go inside you enter at the middle of the house. There is a staircase leading up to a hallway, but we'll get to that later.

When you look to your left, you should see a kitchen and dining room. The kitchen has the black and white checkered tiles, and wooden counters and cabinets and stuff. It has a window to the outside, but the outside is basically just a void.

Anyways, there is also another cabinet that has tons of shelves inside. Each shelf belongs to a certain member for them to put their food on.

Then, when you go a bit further back into the kitchen, you enter the dining room.

Pretty big room, and a huge wooden table with chairs around it. Also a carpet. Nothing much, tbh. We actually don't use the dining room much.

Then when you go to the right of the house, you enter the living room.

The living room has a white carpet floor, and a couch. The couch is beige and has basic white pillows. The pillows remind me a lot of hospital pillows because those are really comfy. The pillow cases also have tiny black polka dots

There is also some bean bags in the back. And infront of the couch, is a huge TV. We don't use that much tho.

At the back of the living room, there is a wall full of pictures of us all. Starting from when we first built the headspace, to now. Also a coffee table infront of the couch.

And if you go even more to the right, there's a door that goes to a HUGE room. That room is the nursery. But I can't remember what that room looks like.

Next we can finally move on to the staircase in the middle.

When you go up that staircase, there's a hallway with beige carpet floors and light yellow walls. (Yes, we love carpet floors.) This is a long hallway with ten doors on each side.

Each door leads to one of our rooms, and the doors look really different from eachother, since we decided to decorate and add our name tags to them.

At the end of the hallway, you reach my door, and then you can see two different hallways on the other sides. (We also love confusing hallways.)

The left hallway is where our discussion room is. Practically just the room where we all meet up and talk about issues within the system.

When you enter the door, the first thing you probably see is the square table, with lots of chairs. About 20-ish, if I remember correctly?

Infront of that table is a smaller table. I usually stand at that table because I am usually the one making announcements and such.

If you look back at the door, and then look above it, you can see a huge TV screen. I have a little IPad looking thing that I use to make a text/photo montage, and send up to the TV screen, along with a little remote control that I use to actually move the frames of the presentations.

And when you go to the right hallway, it has a room that is the same size as the other room, but it's completely empty since we don't have anything to do with it.

There's also a patio outside, but my fingers hurt from typing so I'm just gonna maybe describe that later.

Anyways- thanks again for sending this ask in!

- Alex (Me, core) 🃏

- Torch ⚒️

#The Ménage System #system #systems #actually system #endo safe #endo safe space #pro endo #endogenic safe #system ask game answers #thanks for sending in this ask! <3 #long confusing headspace description

[haljordangreenjedi]

Hi I've been reading through your blog and saw your post on turning Parallax possession similar to a virus. I'm very interested in this as I'm not very knowledgeable about viruses. Could you explain it a bit more in detail on how it would work?

so, immunologically speaking, your body protects you from foreign proteins, bacteria, and viruses based on what it recognizes. if the body can recognize an antigen as having been there before, it responds and fights it off much quicker, because it's using a secondary immune response.

A primary immune response takes at least a week to develop, because first the body has to recognize the antigen as bad, and then develop a response for it (antibodies.) In that time span, the antigens overwhelm the immune system, and that's when you get sick, or a cut gets infected. once your body starts producing antibodies to beat up that foreign bacteria/virus, you start to recover, and then your body will store the knowledge of what that antigen is made of, so that if it ever comes back, it can respond quicker.

(you can see here, primary immune responses are much slower than secondary because they don't recognize the antigen right away.)

This is why we have vaccines, we introduce a dead or weakened antigen into the body, our immune system learns it & learns how to beat it, and so we're less likely to get sick (or less likely to be *severely* sick) when we're introduced to the antigen in full force, say... in the height of flu season.

Thinking of Parallax as a virus requires the mindset that Hal hasn't experienced fear since he was a child. He doesn't have anything to lose because in his mind, the worst thing that could happen already did, when he watched his father die. So, it's like Hal's skipped his flu shot for like 15 years. Eventually, the flu virus (or in comics' case, Parallax) will change enough that the body doesn't recognize it right away, and you get sick.

In this, weakness would be exploited by Hal experiencing the grief and fear of having Barry die, and then the destruction of Coast City.

(side note, if anyone remembers where this panel comes from, lmk because I don't remember the exact issue and I would like to know.)

The implication is then that the virus overwhelmed Hal's body, and entered his CSF(cerebrospinal fluid)/went to his brain and caused encephalitis—massive brain inflammation. The symptoms of encephalitis vary, but can include seizures, headaches, light/sound sensitivity, loss of consciousness, and depending on the localization of the swelling, personality and emotional or psychological changes.

So: thinking of Parallax as a virus means thinking that Hal got an infection to the extreme of it going into his central nervous system, and affecting his brain. This means it could potentially (and in this case, did) alter his personality and emotional state to that of what we see when he is Parallax, where he kills his friends and fellow corpsmen, and occasionally acts as though he's helpless to stop himself from completing the tasks he has set out for himself—claiming all of the Green Lantern energy and returning the universe to what he believes is its best possible state.

The hard part of this is that DC created the retcon and used it as a scape goat without any real research/scientific background, and then never continued their explanation. There should have been real physical and mental consequences to Hal having an "infection" for as long as he did, and i think they could have further addressed his feelings of guilt and better explained how this meant anyone could potentially be infected by Parallax.

I really hope this made sense, but hit me with some follow up if you have more questions.

#tag: katie answers things.... sometimes #tag: hal jordan is my emotional support green lantern #tag: parallax hal #hal jordan #parallax #green lantern #i'm literally getting a degree in health science this week so i hope this made sense

[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”

#elliot alderson x reader #Elliot Alderson #mr robot #rami malek

[dangcommaannie]

Went to see Shang-Chi with some friends yesterday. Here’s a list of three spoiler free things that made me far more emotional than they should have.

Shang-Chi taking off his shoes before entering Katy’s home Being an Asian-American who grew up in the Texas, I think this was one of the things that made me realize how different I was. I can’t recall the first time, but I know I have memories of going to non-Asian households and instinctively removing my shoes. The reactions were different depending on where I went. Sometimes, I was told I didn’t need to and that I could keep them on. Sometimes, I was told how polite I was. I didn’t know I could keep them on. I didn’t think I was being polite. I was just doing what I always did. Wasn’t this what everyone did too? No, apparently, was the answer.

Katy not speaking Mandarin, but being able to understand most of it Being Vietnamese-American, while I wouldn't say I'm looked down on, there's certainly a disappointment that comes when other Vietnamese people realize that I'm not as fluent in Vietnamese as they expected. I can understand Vietnamese, though. I can even understand two different dialects since my parents were from different regions. I can maybe strangle out a decent conversation in both, if I tried hard enough, but it's not enough. It's not fluent enough. Not even when I did what I could to translate for my mother when the paramedics came in the middle of the night and had to take my father to the hospital. My parents don't outright say it, but the passive aggressiveness is there when I can't read or write, as if they forgot that no one ever taught me how to do so properly. It's there when I prefer to speak English because every time I try to communicate in Vietnamese, they'll laugh at how I struggle as if they didn't also struggle while trying to learn English. It's there when I can speak a whole bunch of other languages and have a degree in English literature, but still can't speak the one that's supposed to be my own and my main connection to my heritage.

When Wenwu talks to Katy about her Chinese name I wrote this in some tags awhile back, but it bears repeating again. Growing up Asian-American, I had to learn to love my name, both my English name and my Vietnamese name. It wasn’t until years later that I realized how beautiful and important they were because most Asian names are parents’ first gift to their children. It’s their first blessing. The amount of care that goes into not just how it sounds, but what it means, what each part means, what each stroke and character means, what the number of strokes can mean too. I’ve known of parents who will even consult fortune tellers and naming experts because they want the name to be just right. A name isn’t just your name. It is your first blessing and gift from your parents, and it wasn’t until I learned that that I started to love my name. Because while I might not be as close to my parents as any of us would like, my name is something I will always carry with me.

#shang-chi #shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings #asian-american #asamnetwork #about me #personal post #okay to reblog

[wowbright]

Fic: Mourn With Those Who Mourn

Written for the Gleeful Paintbox Project - Week 1 prompt: Pilot/2009

Words: ~9200 words

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: A familiar song reopens old wounds for Kurt.

Another vignette in my Mormon!Klaine universe. This one takes place after Blaine’s birthday and Transparent, and before they meet Chandler (Elder Hummel’s Second Biggest Fan).

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Warnings: Finn’s death, grief, trauma, post-traumatic flashbacks

Notes: (1) I am so grateful for this prompt because I've been needing to explore Kurt’s grief over Finn’s death more deeply as part of the story, and hadn't figured out quite how to, and this prompt helped me figure (part of) that out. (2) Per the prompt, I built this chapter around songs performed in Pilot/2009. Since it's not about those episodes per se, I'm not sure if it’s appropriate for the challenge, but using the tag because I want to give credit where credit is due! (3) Heed the warnings. First section is fun until the last paragraphs. The second section is the one with the flashbacks. After that, the focus is recovery—process, not endpoint. (4) If you have any questions or typo corrections, feel free to use my ask box!

--------

“Romaine or leaf?” Elder Hummel said, holding up a bag of each type of lettuce on either side of his head.

“Leaf,” said Blaine. But then he remembered that Caesar salad was a thing that existed and changed his mind. “Romaine. Or…” Maybe leaf lettuce was more versatile. “What do you prefer?”

Elder Hummel lowered the bags and considered them. “How about one of each? It's good for you, and it's cheap, and I have decision fatigue. At least the other items on our shopping list are more specific.”

It had been a long day. They'd had no appointments lined up until 6:30 p.m., which meant they'd had to spend most of the day going door to door. They’d tried one neighborhood, and then another, and then another, but found no golden converts in any of them, despite praying prior to each decision. President Steele said sometimes the Holy Ghost directed you to a specific neighborhood not because you would have success there, but because you wouldn’t. The days where no one answered their doors, or the few that answered weren’t interested in the church, were just as important as the ones that yielded appointments. They taught the value of persistence—a trait every priesthood holder needed if he was to endure to the end.

Blaine decided to look on the bright side. Their one appointment hadn’t gone terribly. The investigator had been friendly. It was just that he’d refused to acquiesce that the earth continues to need prophets today. “Isn’t the whole point of Jesus that he had the last word on everything?” he’d asked.

Um, no. That wasn't the point of Jesus. His ministry was about reconciliation and atonement, not about laying down rules or providing us with guidelines for our day-to-day decisions. But Blaine didn’t feel like he'd done a very good job explaining it.

At least the guy lived near Aldi. They could cram in a quick grocery trip before catching the bus home, and maybe have more time on P-day to do other things. Plus, Aldi was a little like coming home. Its layout was like the other Aldis Blaine had been to in his previous transfers, and it wasn't too crowded, and Katy Perry was crooning about kissing a girl in the background, and boy oh boy, did Blaine love Katy Perry. Good for you, Katy Perry. You go ahead and enjoy kissing that girl, Blaine thought as he resisted the urge to dance down the aisles and sing along. He didn't want to scandalize Elder Hummel. It might not seem that a boy singing about kissing girls would be as scandalous as Katy Perry doing it, but Blaine was an LDS missionary. So it kind of was. Lock your heart and all that.

Elder Hummel made a quick job of picking out the produce, including a generous supply of replacement lemons. Thanks to Blaine’s birthday, they needed to replenish their pantry goods, too.

The song shifted to “Respect” by Aretha Franklin, and Blaine gave into the urge to dance—not full on, but a sort of sidestepping down the aisle. “I love this,” Blaine said as Elder Hummel stopped the cart in front of the bags of rice.

“Aretha Franklin?” Elder Hummel said. “She’s good.”

“Yes. And grocery shopping. It's like a little ritual. The layout of this Aldi is like the layout of the Aldi in Leipzig. You're in a different place, but everything feels familiar. It’s sort of like the temple that way.”

Elder Hummel gave Blaine a startled look.

“I think that came out the wrong way. What I meant was—” What had Blaine meant? It was a weird comparison to make. Why had it even occurred to him? Because Blaine had been to three different temples and three different Aldis? Because the first time he’d entered either of them, he’d been instantly overwhelmed and weirded out, but now he was rather fond of both places? “I guess I just meant it's comforting. Not that it's, like, spiritual or something. I shouldn’t— I shouldn’t have demeaned the temple that way.”

Elder Hummel ’s face softened into a sympathetic smile. “I think I know what you mean. As Joseph Smith himself said, ‘If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy’ at Aldi, ‘we seek after these things.’”

“He didn't say ‘at Aldi,’” Blaine countered.

“It was implied by ‘anything.’” Elder Hummel set a bag of rice into the cart, then tossed another of lentils beside it. “I'll grant you that the comparison was a little weird. But honestly? I like how you look for the good in things. I came in here just wishing for the day to end and trying to plough through. But then you say that and—” He grabbed the cart handle and pushed it forward. “Well. I can learn from that. That’s all.”

Blaine stood planted in front of the rice, staring in bewilderment as Elder Hummel continued down the aisle. Why wasn't Elder Hummel angry at him? If he'd compared Aldi to the temple in front of anyone else, they surely would have lectured him, or given him a quote from a prophet about reverence or, at the very least, passively aggressively changed the topic of conversation.

Elder Hummel looked back over his shoulder. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, remembering how to move his feet again. Elder Hummel was so unlike anyone he had ever known. Blaine kept expecting him to do one thing, and then he went and did another—and whatever that other thing was, it was always multiple times better than the thing Blaine had anticipated.

The most starling part was that Elder Hummel didn't seem to be doing it on purpose. He wasn’t contrarian. He wasn't intentionally trying to throw Blaine off his game. He was—how did the Psalm put it?

Wonderfully made.

Elder Hummel was wonderfully made.

Aretha Franklin morphed into John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John. Blaine bounded on his toes toward Elder Hummel . “Oh my gosh! Did your school do this play? Tell me you played Danny Zuko!”

Elder Hummel laughed. “‘No’ on both counts. Closest I ever got to leading man was Officer Krupke.”

“Well, that’s Ohio’s loss. Though I’m sure your Officer Krupke was smashing.”

“Definitely,” Elder Hummel said drily. “I won twelve Tony awards for it.”

Blaine got that warm, bubbly feeling that entered his chest every time Elder Hummel said something witty. That, and the song piping in through the ceiling, made him want to sing. Alas, singing in the aisles of a grocery store was not a very German thing to do, and when in Rome … So Blaine tried to resist.

But mortal man is only so strong. The chorus came and he lost his will to fight it. The notes spilled out of him. And once he was singing “You’re the one that I want! Ooo-ooo-ooh!” in the middle of Aldi, he might as well add the choreography in, too. He leaned in next to Elder Hummel by the cheese and cold cuts case, shimmying with the music.

“I take it you did play Danny Zuko?” said Elder Hummel, who was trying not to smile but was doing a very bad job at it.

“Yes. But more importantly, I’ve been playing all the parts in the privacy of my living room since I was four years old.”

“Four? Isn't Grease a little racy for a wee little Mormon boy from Mesa?”

“Yeah, but my brother was in it, and I insisted that I had to help him practice. Besides, I didn't understand the racy bits until high school. Probably haven’t caught all of them yet, to be honest.” Blaine spun around the cart and dove back into the song: “You better prove that my faith is justified … Yes, I’m sure deep down inside!”

“Isn’t that Sandy’s part?”

“Who do you think played Sandy to my brother’s Danny in living room practice?”

“That sounds kind of … creepy,” Elder Hummel said, but Blaine knew he was only teasing.

“It’s good, wholesome fun. C’mon, Elder Hummel. Dance.”

Elder Hummel scanned the area around them. The only person visible from where they stood was a woman down the aisle, studiously evaluating the granola bars. “Oh, fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. But his mouth was all grin.

You’re the one that I want! You are the one I want. Ooo-ooo-ooh!

Elder Hummel did a spin and sashay as he selected their sandwich fixings for the week. Blaine grabbed a package of bratwurst and held it up to his mouth like a microphone before doing a little leap and dunking it into the cart. He leaned into Elder Hummel, trying to get him to play Danny Zuko to Blaine’s Sandy, but Elder Hummel acted all scandalized and sputtered, “Oh my gosh, elder, we’re in a grocery store! With our nametags on,” his face going a delightful shade of beet red as he melted into laughter.

Blaine loved helping Elder Hummel find the good in mundane things. To celebrate with him the stupid joy of shopping for sausages at a cheap German grocery chain. He hoped Elder Hummel felt the same way that he did right now: light and unburdened, all the aches and weariness from trudging fruitlessly around Ingolstadt melting into clouds. It was as if all the doors that had closed in their faces had remained open instead.

Travolta and Newton-John faded out and a familiar power-pop oldie faded in. Blaine whipped out his air guitar (he really had no idea how to play air guitar, but it was so difficult to resist sometimes) and picked the familiar line. When the lyrics started, he was going to have to use all his willpower not to belt out loud enough to be heard at the cash registers. “I love this one!”

“Me, too.” Elder Hummel’s cheeks were still pink from laughing, and his eyes were still bright, and he started bouncing his heel in an instinctive rhythm, his hips swaying slightly.

But there was something wrong. Blaine thought he was just imagining things at first. But, no. The color was fading from Elder Hummel 's face—it wasn't just the fluorescent lights of the refrigerator case draining it away. His smile was still there, but it didn't look natural. It looked like it was taking all of Elder Hummel ’s strength to keep it in place.

And his eyes—he wasn't looking at Blaine, or the food, or that lady down the aisle who had moved on from granola bars to sauerkraut. He seemed to be focusing on something far away, farther out than the walls of the grocery store, somewhere beyond the horizon.

From the speakers in the ceiling, Steve Perry started singing.

Elder Hummel went as white as a sheet. His breathing was shallow. He blinked rapidly and forced a fearful smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom.” He turned heel and walked away at a measured pace, his back rigid, as if he was doing everything in his power to keep from running.

Just a small-town girl

Livin' in a lonely world

She took the midnight train goin' anywhere.

Just a city boy

Born and raised in South Detroit

He took the midnight train goin' anywhere.

Blaine felt the urge to follow. But it somehow felt that Elder Hummel was already too far away to catch up to. Like he’d started slipping into another dimension, and it was swallowing him whole.

“Elder Hummel?” Blaine called after his companion.

No reaction.

“Kurt?” Blaine tried. But that name didn’t work, either.

Elder Hummel turned into the corridor that held the restroom and disappeared.

*

No. Not now. This wasn't happening. This couldn't happen.

Kurt was standing inside an Aldi, next to the yogurt and hummus. And that's where he needed t they don’to stay. He needed to take a deep breath and think about the floor beneath him and the earth beneath that. He needed to feel the solidity of gravity pulling him down. He needed to take another deep breath and look at his phone and gauge how much time they had before they needed to be at the bus stop.

Because he was an Ingolstadt. On his mission. He was a representative of the Lord, and that's what he needed to be one-hundred percent of the time. He was not a human with memories he could just melt into whenever they called him. Maybe, when he got back to Ohio, he could do that. But not now. Not in Aldi.

He resisted. He resisted with all of his might. He smiled and he breathed, but the chords kept progressing, curling under him like a wave, tugging him further and further out from land, further and further out from reality, and—BAM!—he was there again, at the funeral home, at the front of the little chapel with the rest of the kids from the Glee club, looking out at Finn’s other friends and family, watching Carole try to smile and his father trying to help her hold together, and Kurt couldn't cry, he couldn't cry because he had to sing his part, which was stupid, he'd never had a big part in this song anyway and now the only reason he had one was because Finn was dead, and why had he let Mr. Schuester talk them into this, Kurt liked this song and he liked remembering Finn sing it, and he liked remembering them sing it at regionals, but Mr. Schuester had to turn it into a funeral song, because Mr. Schuester poisoned everything he touched, and as if that wasn't bad enough, there Mr. Schuester was, standing off to the side crying as if he was the one who had lost a brother. And Kurt couldn’t cry because he was soloing. Because Mr. Schuester couldn’t give him a solo for practice or competition, but when death struck, well, apparently that was the perfect time to let Kurt’s star shine.

Kurt needed to get out of there.

Kurt turned down the aisle of the Aldi and he could see it—he could see the fluorescent lights and the colorful boxes of food and the white ceiling and the shining floor. But he could see other things just as clearly: Carole crying and Finn's dead face and a whirling sea of jocks in awkwardly fitting suits and ties.

Kurt couldn't remember what his mother's hair felt like. Why hadn't he saved a lock of her hair?

Kurt made it to the bathroom. He wasn't sure how, but he was there, locking the door and taking another breath—it wasn’t deep, it wasn’t reaching his diaphragm, it barely reached his heart, but he was trying, God knew he was trying—and he looked around like a paranoid maniac to make sure no one else was in there, even though it was a single-person restroom.

He collapsed against the of the door and slid to the floor.

And here is where the English language fails us. Because what happened next would usually be described as he cried. It's the same in German: Er weinte. Subject-verb.

But those both would imply that Kurt was actively doing something. That he was the subject performing the verb.

And that’s not what happened.

Kurt wasn't crying. Something was crying in him. At him. Through him. He was the object of its whims. It rose up from the depths of his soul where he usually kept it submerged, and took over his body. It seized his lungs and wracked them with grief, and the only thing Kurt could do was moderate its volume, to keep his mouth closed so that the sound of its rage leaked out in pathetic little whines, too weak to pierce the walls around him.

God wasn't supposed to let it happen this way. Finn was supposed to have a long life. He was supposed to take the lessons and get baptized and they were supposed to be sealed as a family in the temple. He wasn't supposed to oversleep on a Tuesday and catch the bus while Kurt drove in from seminary, then go about his day like it was perfectly normal. He wasn’t supposed to let Kurt go about his day the same way, so that now Kurt couldn't even say for sure if they had seen each other in the halls between classes. Couldn’t remember if he’d spoken to his own brother one last time.

Couldn’t remember what Finn’s hair felt like.

Death was a part of the plan of salvation, his bishop said. There is no exaltation in this life. We can't move forward without passing through the veil. Without life, there is no death; and without death, there is no life. For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things.

“There’s no hurry,” the bishop said when Kurt asked for his endowment the summer before their senior year. Finn was alive and Kurt was eighteen, old enough for the Melchizedek priesthood. “You have another year before you’re out of high school. You can wait until you're closer to your mission. And maybe your brother will be baptized by then, and you can both get your endowment together. Wouldn't that be cool?”

Besides, there was the whole thing about underwear. The bishop didn't think kids in high school should be wearing the garments. He knew what high schoolers were like: bullying, disrespectful, sacrilegious. He didn't think garments belonged in a high school locker room, where they could be made objects of ridicule.

“I don't change in front of other people,” Kurt said, his heart sinking. He needed the armor of God to protect him from his thoughts.

“Have patience,” the bishop said, even though he was supposed to have the gift of discernment. “There’s no rush.”

But there was a rush. Kurt rushed down the hall, and the hall rushed passed him in a red blur of lockers and faces, and his heart rushed, beating too fast and too loudly, so loudly Kurt could hardly hear the sound of Mr. Schuester calling after him. The sky rushed toward him as he flung open the doors and out onto the field, and the ambulance was already rushing in on the other side of the track, and everyone was rushing around Finn, Coach Beiste pumping his chest to rush blood back through his body and the paramedics rushing out of the vehicle, and he wasn't breathing, Finn wasn't breathing, and his lips were blue, and the Melchizedek priesthood had saved the life of Kurt’s father when he had almost died, but Kurt hadn't received his endowment because there was no rush, and he didn't carry anointing oil, and he wasn't authorized to give blessings to the sick, and the paramedics were in such a rush and trying to get his heart beating again—Have mine, Finn, come on, my heart is beating hard enough for both of us!—and there was no room for Kurt in the ambulance, and it rushed away, sirens blaring, and Mr. Schuester held him back, grabbed on to him and hugged him as if grief was something to be shared and not a terrible, lonely monster who reached its tentacles into your insides and crushed everything about yourself that you loved, and no, Kurt would never, this was not over, but the ambulance turned the corner and was gone, and the sirens grew quieter and quieter as it moved away, until they were as silent as Finn’s heart.

Finn was gone.

*

Blaine picked up the grocery list that Elder Hummel had dropped in the cart and finished their shopping. He was more glad than ever that this Aldi was like the other Aldis he’d been in, because he didn't have to think. All he had to do was walk down the aisles and grab what he needed to grab, then go to the register, then pack their groceries with the weight evenly distributed between four bags.

Blaine looked at his watch, then at the cashier, then back at his watch. He wasn't worried about the bus—that was the last thing he was capable of worrying about right now—but Aldi was about to close.

He left his bags on the packing counter, looked apologetically at the cashier, and walked the wrong way past her and back into the store. He knocked on the bathroom door. “Elder Hummel,” he said. “They’re about to close up.”

“Be right out,” Elder Hummel's voice called back in a practiced singsong.

Blaine leaned against the wall and waited. It was only then that he noticed how fast his heart was beating and that his armpits were drenched with sweat.

Elder Hummel came out of the bathroom. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, but he was breathing steadily—so steadily, Blaine could count to it: three on the inhalation and six on the exhalations.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

Blaine felt uneasy with that answer, but that didn't matter. He knew his unease came out of a longing to know what was going on, and the urge to fix it. He could let that go for now. What mattered was how Elder Hummel felt. And if Elder Hummel needed to be alone with his thoughts or the existential abyss, or whatever this was, Blaine could give him that. “Okay,” Blaine said. “As long as it's not something medical, like an asthma attack or something.”

Elder Hummel shook his head. “It’s not.”

They walked in silence to the bus stop, and waited in silence there. Blaine watched the cars go by, studying how the light swelled as each one came nearer and dissipated as it passed.

He felt helpless. At his baptism, he had covenanted to comfort those in need of comfort, and mourn with those who mourn. To bear others’ burdens, that they may be light. And that had always come easily to him. It was second nature to him to offer a friend a hug when they were having a bad day, or pat somebody on the back when they needed encouragement, or help with errands when a neighbor was sick or overwhelmed. The obligation of the Christian to stand by those in need felt to Blaine like a privilege—even a gift—and not like a requirement.

But this was hard. Standing by and doing nothing while his companion was hurting, even though that was what Elder Hummel wanted—maybe even needed—it pained Blaine.

“Thank you,” Elder Hummel said after several minutes.

Blaine waited to reply, in case Elder Hummel wanted to say something else. But no other words came. “It's nothing,” Blaine said.

They got on the bus. It wasn't crowded. There were plenty of seats to choose from. Elder Hummel walked toward the back, took a window seat, and looked out at the night.

“Do you want to sit alone? Or—”

Elder Hummel didn't shift his gaze from the window, but he shook his head. “Sit with me, please.”

Blaine settled into the seat next to Elder Hummel’s. He didn't watch Elder Hummel, but he didn't avoid looking at him, either. He thought back on the day behind them, and how exhausting it had been. Maybe that was it. Maybe all the stress and rejection of Elder Hummel’s long mission had just come to a head at that random moment in the Aldi. Cooper had warned Blaine that these kinds of breaks happened to most missionaries sooner or later. That it would happen to Blaine, as well, if he held too much of himself in, if he tried too hard to be what others expected him to be.

Blaine felt Elder Hummel’s eyes on him and looked over. Elder Hummel didn't look away. He didn't smile, either, but his expression was soft and warm (and, yes, exhausted). It felt, in that moment, like there was some kind of communication going on between them, a wordless language that only they could understand.

Elder Hummel looked back out the window, his body relaxing slightly, his limbs loosening. His knee bumped softly against Blaine’s the rest of the way home.

*

Kurt wasn't back to normal after his shower, but he was back to being ready to speak. He found Elder Anderson in the kitchen, wiping down the counters. The groceries and tote bags were put away, as if by magic, and while this usually would have stressed Kurt out—he hated when his companions put something in the wrong place—tonight, it came as a relief.

“Hi,” Kurt said.

Elder Anderson stopped wiping. He looked over his shoulder and gave a tentative smile. “Hi.”

“Do you want—Do you want a snack or something?” Kurt asked, stepping toward the snack cabinet. He braced himself to ignore any disorganization he found there in the service of the greater good. But when he opened it, he found the cookies and chips they’d just gotten from Aldi perfectly rotated with the old supply, and everything lined up in neat rows.

Mine house is a house of order.

Emotion welled up in Kurt’s chest. Tears came to his eyes and he blinked them back. It was overwhelming, the feeling of safety Kurt got from that one glimpse of orderliness. And he could fight it, but why? The inside of Kurt’s head might not be safe. But this room was safe and this apartment was safe, and trusting a companion who could organize a kitchen cabinet so considerately—maybe that would be safe, too. Kurt grabbed a sleeve of hazelnut-chocolate wafer cookies and waved them toward Elder Anderson.

“Those would hit the spot. And—" Elder Anderson paused, as if reconsidering whatever he had been about to say. “I could warm up some milk, if you want. Cinnamon? Nutmeg?”

Kurt nodded. “And a splash of vanilla.”

“Honey or sugar?”

Kurt considered. “I usually do sugar. So honey?”

An expression of mild surprise crossed Elder Anderson’s face. “Wouldn’t that, like, violate the ritual of the whole thing?”

Kurt had once thought so. He would measure out his ingredients exactly, trying to re-create how his mother had made it when he was little. Then Finn came down one night, took one sip, and said, “You know what would make this really good? Marshmallows,” and proceeded to toss a fistful of mini marshmallows in his oversized mug.

“That’s disgusting,” Kurt had said.

“You should try it,” was Finn's response. He took a contented sip.

Against his best judgment, Kurt did try it—not a fistful, but a judicious sprinkling. And though he hated to admit it, they really did lend it a lovely flavor.

Finn never wanted to drink warm milk the same way twice. They tried butterscotch flavoring, a sprinkling of Carole’s coffee substitute, peppermint candy, and so much blue food coloring that their tongues were still stained the next day. Santana to start a rumor that they'd gotten that way from French kissing giraffes at the Lima Zoo.

Kurt smiled at the memory and at his companion. “Sometimes rituals benefit from being adjusted.”

“Okay,” said Elder Anderson, clearly nervous.

“I mean it,” said Kurt. “Whatever you make will be fine.”

It was better than fine. The milk was the perfect temperature, with just the right sweetness and balance of spices. “Thank you,” Kurt said, Setting his mug down. “For this, and for … earlier tonight.”

“I really didn't do anything.”

“You were there.”

Elder Anderson looked like he was about to contradict him, then thought better of it.

“And you let me … be. Without questions. And that's what I needed. But … I can talk now.”

“You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to.”

“I want to, though. It’s just … I don't know how much I can tell you without going back there again.” Kurt realized that there was an ambiguousness term. “I mean, in my head. Not to Aldi. We don't have to go back to Aldi for a while yet.”

“Okay. Then … tell me what you want, and stop if it gets too much. Alright?”

Kurt nodded. He took a deep breath. He looked at Elder Anderson’s face, so welcoming and warm—so fearless, despite the wrinkle of uncertainty around his eyes. “It was that song. The one that was playing. I don't want to say its name. I mean, it's actually going through my head right now and it's not like it's Voldemort, but I just don't want to.”

“It’s okay,” Elder Anderson said gently. “I know which one you're talking about.”

“We sang it at my brother's funeral. Or memorial service. Or whatever it was. I don't know. Part of his family is Russian Orthodox, and part of his family is Catholic, and his mother is Mormon, and a bunch of them—including Finn—just don't believe anything, so it was just a generic service. And our show choir teacher wanted us to sing that song, because it was the first solo Finn had in our show choir and it helped us win our first regional competition, and that was the image of Finn he wanted to keep alive in his head, I guess. Why were we even letting a teacher help plan the memorial service? He wasn't family, he wasn't Finn’s best friend—I mean, I think he thought he was, but he wasn’t. And everything was chaos. Finn died so suddenly—I mean, that’s what the doctors literally called it: ‘sudden cardiac death’. It's not like we had this all preplanned out. So … we sang it.” Kurt stared at his milk, then remembered to take a sip of it. The physicality of the action, the pungency of the spices, were grounding.

“And hearing it today brought that back?” Elder Anderson asked.

“Not just the funeral. All of it. And this feeling … Never mind.”

“I will, if it's something you don't want to tell me.”

Kurt did, though. He thought he'd gotten over it. He thought he had forgiven. Because that's what you were supposed to do. Even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do. But maybe forgiveness and healing weren’t the same thing. “I don’t want to judge anyone else’s grief.”

Elder Anderson said nothing to this, just waited expectantly.

“Mr. Schuester had this … weird relationship with Finn. Not inappropriate, but … it's hard to describe. He treated Finn like he was a younger version of himself. Sometimes like a son, sometimes like a best friend. So, Finn was his obvious favorite of all of us. And none of us liked that, but it was just how things were. I didn't resent it until after Finn died. Because he kept poking his nose where it didn't belong. Acting like he was a member of the family. The funeral, and then— Finn’s letterman jacket went missing from his locker, and his mom was flipping out about it, and it turned out, after the funeral … well, Santana—this snoopy girl from our show choir—found it in Mr. Schuester’s office. And I know—I know everyone grieves in their own way, and it's not like I have a right to tell him not to grieve. But I just— I needed my own space to do it, and I didn't need him stealing Finn's things and telling me that Finn would want this and Finn would want that. I mean, I don't pretend to know everything about my brother—we only lived together for the last two years of high school—but I knew him just as long as Mr. Schuester, and I did actually live with him, and I was the one who had to go home to his grieving mother every day. I mean—” Kurt felt a tear dripping down his face and wiped it away. He’d rather not be crying—because now Elder Anderson's eyes were getting wet, too, and he didn't want his companion to think that Kurt was in agony, because he wasn't. Not right now. Things were okay. He was still inside himself. He was the one crying. The grief didn't have a hold on him. “For the first time, I could see a silver lining in the fact that my mom was already dead. Because as hard as it was to lose her, to see that— I would never want my mom to go through what Carole has.”

“I'm so sorry,” Elder Anderson said, wiping away a leaking tear with his knuckles.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Kurt said. And that was true. But he also couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about it. The tears were strangely comforting. Elder Anderson might not be able to understand his resentment and grief, but he was willing to feel it with Kurt. Except for his parents, Kurt couldn't remember anyone just sitting in his grief with him, without trying to fix it with empty platitudes or outcompete him with their own suffering.

“Don't worry about me. Please.” Elder Anderson got up to grab a tissue box from the bookshelf and pulled one out for himself, then set the box near Kurt.

Kurt took a tissue and wiped his nose. “Anyway, we didn’t just sing the song. Mr. Schuester said I should be the one to take over my dead brother’s solo at his memorial service. And I should have said no.  There is no way Finn who would want me to associate that song with his death.” Kurt shrugged. “But I did it. Because I didn't know what else to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elder Anderson said, splaying his hands on the table, right within Kurt’s reach if he dared to take them. “I know those are just words, but I mean them. That's not something anyone should have to bear.”

Kurt took another sip of milk. It was still warm, despite his talking. “Isn't it, though? For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things. We can only have good if we have the bad to go along with it.”

Elder Anderson looked down at his hands, fiddled with his CTR ring again. “I'm not sure if I should answer that. I want to support you, not getting in a doctrinal debate with you.”

“You can do both.”

Elder Anderson took a deep breath. “Okay. I think the ‘opposition’ thing is more about agency. That good and bad both need to exist so we can choose between them. I don’t think God wants us to suffer. I mean, that’s why we have the atonement, right? So Christ can carry our suffering for us.”

In Gethsemane, Christ suffered for every single evil that has ever occurred and ever will occur. Every malady you experience, every temptation you undergo, every sin you commit: it adds to the pain of Christ’s atonement. Kurt’s seminary teacher had said that in a lesson Kurt’s freshman year of high school, and it had stuck in his mind ever since, even after his father told him it wasn’t doctrinal. “I …” Kurt stopped himself. He wasn't sure of the right way to say this, so maybe he shouldn't. But Elder Anderson was sitting across the table from him, patiently sipping his milk, his expression warm and open to anything that Kurt might say. “I don't want him to carry my suffering. He's already gone through enough. I don't... I don't want to add to it.”

Elder Anderson looked down at the table, pensive. “We had an older neighbor who broke his wrist, so I’d go over every day and help him out with stuff around the house. Stuff that was difficult and painful for him to do. But it was easy for me. I enjoyed it. I liked doing his dishes and helping him with his food and typing things up for him, because it was fun and it made me feel grown up, and even with the stuff that was tedious—well, that was okay because it was a way to be a service. And I’m not comparing myself to Jesus—”

Kurt sniffed. “Hold up. I didn’t think you were. But now that you’re denying it, I'm kind of suspicious.”

Elder Anderson chuckled through his drying tears. “Good to see you have your snark back.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Kurt felt his face break out into a genuine smile. It was an odd sensation, like putting on shorts after a long winter.

“What I’m trying to say is, I think that's what it's like for Jesus when he takes on our suffering. I think … I think he feels our pain with us. But I think the joy he gets from helping us outweighs that.”

It was strange. Earlier in the evening, Kurt felt like the world was collapsing in on him, like the pain inside of him was consuming him alive and would continue to do so forever, like the ouroboros eating its own tail. But now, in this small kitchen, he felt the opposite. There was a peace inside him—small, but growing like an ember.

It was that burning in the bosom that came with the presence of the Holy Ghost. Kurt had felt it before, but outside of receiving blessings from his father, and once when giving a blessing, it had always been a solitary experience. It most often came to him late at night as he lay in bed, talking to God in freeform prayers. Sometimes it came when he was outside, walking down the street and minding his own business, and suddenly he would notice the sky or a flower breaking through the soil, and his old eyes would fall away and he would see the world anew. Occasionally, it happened in church, during a prayer or a song, but even then it was self-contained—a direct, quiet prompting from the Spirit to him, with no other person involved except as vehicle.

It wasn't solitary now. Kurt could see in Elder Anderson’s eyes, hear in the gentleness of his voice, that he felt it too.

The Holy Ghost was working in this room—on both of them, through both of them.

Kurt was safe here. The only two people listening were God and Elder Anderson. And though his emotions sometimes left Kurt feeling like he was reeling blindly on the edge of a precipice, he knew one or both of them would catch him if he stumbled.

So he took a step forward, not knowing where it would land.

“I feel like I failed Finn,” Kurt said. The alienating sadness stirred deep in his belly, but the tears that blurred his vision were his own. And that was fine. The sadness would always be inside of him, but it didn’t have to take over. He could share space with it, the same way he was sharing space with Elder Anderson and the Holy Ghost. “I don’t even know if I’ll see him in heaven.”

Kurt felt Elder Anderson's hand on his, solid and warm. “Of course you will.”

There was a part of Kurt that believed him. But there was another part, too. And he had to give it voice, because he'd been holding it inside for so long. He hadn't said it to his bishop, and he hadn't said it to his dad, and he certainly hadn’t said it to Carole.

Kurt focused on his hand joined with Elder Anderson’s, their CTR rings gleaming like soft halos thanks to the tears he was blinking back. He prayed for strength. “I don't know. I couldn't convince him to want the celestial kingdom when he was alive. He always told me the telestial kingdom sounded good enough for him. And fine. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s where he’ll be happiest. But I wish … I wish heaven wasn't divided up like that. I just wish we could be together.”

“You will be,” Elder Anderson said, his voice cracking, his fingers flexing reassuringly against the fine bones of Kurt’s hand. “Can I— Can I tell you something I believe about heaven?”

“Why are you asking permission?”

“Because I don't want to— I don't want to come in here with my ideas and act like that's somehow going to fix things. You don’t— Your feelings don't need fixing. I just—” Elder Anderson sighed. Kurt had never heard him have such difficulty with words. He was trying so hard to be considerate, to say the right thing, to accept Kurt right where he was. “I just want to be here for you, even though it’s not enough.”

The ember in Kurt’s chest bloomed. “Tell me, then.”

Elder Anderson cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “You know how Jesus said about heaven, ‘In my father’s house are many mansions’?”

Kurt nodded.

“Well, that always sounded a little weird to me. How can a building have multiple buildings within it? My seminary teacher said the ‘house’ is really a ‘household’ or an ‘estate,’ and the ‘mansions’ are all the different buildings on a piece of shared land.” Elder Anderson used his freehand to draw an invisible map of his seminary teacher’s estate on top of the table. “But that’s not what Jesus says. He says ‘house.’ And then I was watching Star Trek one day and—”

“Star Trek?” Kurt couldn't help it. No matter how serious things were, he had to tease his companion about that, at least a little.

Elder Anderson jutted his chin up in friendly defiance. “‘If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.’”

“Okay. So what virtuous thing did you learn from Star Trek?”

“I didn't, exactly. It just got me thinking about multiverses and layered realities.”

Wow. Elder Anderson: gentleman, cupcake, and also a complete nerd. “I think you've lost me.”

“Sorry about that.” Elder Anderson chuckled. “Forget Star Trek. what I'm trying to say is, I think maybe all the kingdoms of heaven are actually in one place.” He patted Kurt’s hand and he let go of it, shifting into full-on hand gesture mode to illustrate his next point. “The celestial, the terrestrial, the telestial—they're the mansions, and they're sort of, layered on top of each other. It's like … you know how in physics, an electron can be a wave and a particle at the same time?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “No. I did not know that.”

“Okay. Well, it can. Light can, too. We see it as waves, but when it hits the surface of a leaf, it acts like a particle to set off a chain reaction that causes photosynthesis. Basically, these proteins absorb the photons like they might absorb a proton or electron, and then they use that to make sugar molecules—” Elder Anderson let out a frustrated huff. “I'm not explaining it right.”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“Thank you.” Elder Anderson let out a relieved smile. “Well, I think heaven is like that. There's one heaven, and it's the celestial kingdom and the terrestrial kingdom and the telestial kingdom all at the same time. And we're all there together. Maybe we experience it differently—like the walls look different depending on which kingdom you’re in, and you visit with Jesus more or less. But no matter which heaven you're in, it’s supposed to be a place filled with joy and without sorrow. And how are we going to be happy without the people we love? The only way heaven can really be heaven is if we're all in the same place and can see each other whenever we want. That’s what I believe, at least.” He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of milk, looking half-exhausted from his own explanation. “I'm sorry if that didn't make any sense.”

“No. It did, I think.” As much sense as any other metaphysical concept, at least. And it was more beautiful than the gospel of eternal separation that he had inferred year after year from Sunday school and seminary, and proclaimed in the lessons that he himself preached to investigators.

Wasn’t ‘gospel’ supposed to mean ‘good news’? If so, Elder Anderson must be onto something. Because the picture of heaven imprinted in Kurt’s mind—the one where he would turn straight and be alienated from his aunt and Finn and his father’s entire side of the family and most of his friends—it wasn’t good news. It scraped at his heart like a knife blade.

Kurt looked down at his mug, watching as sprinkles of cinnamon floated around in undulating patterns on the surface, and took a sip. It was cooler now, but he could still taste each note—vanilla, honey, cinnamon, nutmeg, milk—and how it blended into something greater than the whole.

It hit him the way revelations did in the Old Testament, all at once and with great force.

“Oh!” Kurt slammed his mug on the table. “I get it!”

“You do?” Elder Anderson said hopefully.

“Yeah. It’s like music. You have different lines that all move at the same time to make one piece of music. Harmonies. That's what heaven is like. Each kingdom is a different part—bass or tenor or alto or whatever—and they all come together to make one song. And even though you, as a person, can only sing one part at a time, you’re still surrounded by all these other voices. Interacting with them. Even if they're not in exactly the same place as you at every moment, they're with you. And you're with them.”

Elder Anderson's eyes lit up. Actually, his whole face did. He let out something that was like a laugh and a sigh, and he blinked again, his eyes watery. “That’s so beautiful.”

Kurt shrugged. “You're the one who came up with it.”

“Actually, I didn't. I had a half-baked idea. And you said something reveletory.”

*

Blaine didn't want to overstep his bounds. He'd already talked a lot. He’d crossed into Elder Hummel’s personal space and held his hand. And even though those things had felt right in the moment, just what the Spirit called him to do, and Elder Hummel seemed fine with them—grateful, even—it could easily tip over into too much.

Blaine had once seen a video on YouTube about the physics of igloos. He’d always figured anything made of ice would be as freezing inside as out. But when humans entered an igloo, their body heat warmed up the space, and if they lit a fire it became even warmer. The ice, instead of cooling the space, trapped the heat in. That's what it was like for Elder Hummel when he retreated into himself, Blaine thought. It was safe and protected. You couldn't just break down a wall and invite yourself in. You’d bring in the cold with you and destroy the comfort that Elder Hummel had worked so long to build.

“It’s okay if you want to pray alone tonight,” Blaine said before shutting himself into the bathroom. Elder Hummel was in the kitchen, cleaning the mugs and saucepan. “You don't have to wait for me.”

Elder Hummel looked up, startled. “You don’t want to—?”

“Doch. I do. I just thought … maybe you needed space.”

Elder Hummel looked at Blaine thoughtfully, as if turning something over in his mind. He looked back at the dishes, his eyes following the movements of his own hands as he scrubbed out the inside of the saucepan. “Actually,” he said, taking in a deep breath, “I was hoping you would give me a blessing.”

Blaine's heart skipped a beat. “I've never— I've never done that before.”

Elder Hummel looked up again, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You've never given a blessing?”

“No, I mean, I have, it’s just—” Of course Blaine had. Single sisters and families without the priesthood in their home asked for blessings of comfort and counsel fairly often. “Not to a companion. I'm not your senior.”

“There's no rule that says you have to be. But if you're not comfortable—” Coolness descended over Elder Hummel’s eyes. He began rinsing out the pan. “Never mind.”

It was wrong to knock down the wall of an igloo. But if someone invited you in through the front door? It was probably just as wrong to decline. The Arctic was an unforgiving place, and if another body would make the igloo warmer— “I didn’t mean— I’d be honored, Elder Hummel. That’s what I meant. I’d be honored to do that for you.”

The relief on Elder Hummel’s face was evident. “Thank you. Let me know when you’re ready?”

Blaine would never be ready. Elder Hummel actually trusted that Blaine could serve as the hands and voice of God to him? He wasn’t. He couldn’t. He— “Sure will.”

Blaine prayed in the shower. He prayed while brushing his teeth and combing his hair and applying his moisturizer. He even prayed while he was peeing. Then he kneeled on the rug in the center of the bathroom floor and prayed some more. That’s how overwhelmed he was.

But he knew it wasn't about him. It was about listening for God’s voice and letting it speak. It wasn’t about saying the “right” words in the “right” order, about being perfect or not making mistakes—despite what his dad made him feel. The first few times Blaine had given blessings right after his endowment, it had been in front of his dad, and it was nerve wracking. If Blaine forgot a step, if he skipped saying the person's middle name, if he forgot to mention that he was doing it in the name of the Melchizedek priesthood, if he said “I pray that you will be blessed…” or “I ask God to bless you with …” instead of boldly proclaiming “I bless you …,” his dad would quietly clear his throat and Blaine would be jolted right out of the presence of the Holy Ghost. He'd have to take a deep breath, and wait, and sometimes the Holy Ghost wouldn't come back. But that never seemed as important to his dad as making sure the words were right—as if blessings were magic spells and one single misstep would make the difference between a bezoar and a horcrux.

Blaine put on his pajamas—the blue cotton twill ones with the button-down top. His dad would say he should change back into a white shirt and necktie. But Elder Hummel was in his pajamas, and this was their home, and the best way to show respect toward God was to come before him as yourself, not dressed up as someone others wanted you to be.

He slipped his CTR ring back on, running his fingertip over the words Wähle das Rechte, and opened the door.

“Okay,” Blaine called out. He couldn’t say I’m ready, because it still wasn't true. But he was prepared, and he was willing. And that's all God asked of anyone.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Elder Hummel called back.

Blaine found Elder Hummel in the chair he’d been sitting in earlier. It was pulled out to give Blaine enough room to stand beside him. He looked up at Blaine, his face filled with a peace Blaine hadn't seen all evening, or maybe ever.

“What’s your full name?” Blaine asked.

“Oh.” Elder Hummel’s cheeks went slightly pink. “Well, legally and in church records, it’s Kurt E Hummel.”

“‘E’, like the letter?” Blaine repeated, just to make sure he'd gotten it right.

“Yeah. My mom wanted ‘Eugene’ and my dad wanted ‘Edgar,’ so they went Harry S Truman on me and just made it ‘E’ so I could decide later.”

“And did you ever decide?”

“Um, yes, but—” Elder Hummel ducked his head. “Not either of those.”

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I think God knows who you are regardle—”

“Elizabeth. After my mom. That was her name.”

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” Blaine said quietly, feeling pleasing weight of the syllables in his mouth. “That's a good name.”

Elder Hummel met his eye and smiled. “I think so, too.” Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and bowed his head.

Okay, then. It was time.

Blaine laid his hands on his companion’s head. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel’s hair was soft and still perfectly combed from his shower earlier in the evening, and his body heat radiated through it and into Blaine’s hands and up his arms, landing right in his chest to meet the warmth that had already started burning there the moment Kurt had asked for this blessing. “Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, by the authority of the Melchizedek priesthood which I hold, I give you a blessing as you have desired. I bless you, Kurt, to know the love of your Heavenly Father …”

Blaine lost track of the words. They weren't his anyway. This was between God and Kurt, and Blaine was just a conduit. God’s love was vast and beyond comprehension, and yet somehow Blaine could feel it inside him, forming his thoughts and his words, pouring out through his hands and into his companion’s body, then circulating back as surely as the blood moved through their veins.

Blaine spoke and breathed and felt the enormity of God’s love for them. And when the words slowed, the love stayed, thrumming through their tiny kitchen apartment, turning it into a space as sacred as any temple—or maybe it had always been that way, and this was the moment when Blaine became aware of it.

“I bless you, Kurt, with all these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen."

Blaine withdrew his hands from Elder Hummel’s head and opened his eyes. He found his companion turning toward him, eyes wet and his face radiant. He caught Blaine’s wrist in his hand. Thank you, he mouthed.

It felt so strange to be looking down at his companion—his equal, his friend. Blaine lowered himself to the floor beside Kurt, kneeling, until they were eye to eye. He had said so much on God’s behalf, but there was something he needed to say for himself. Something he’d said before, but that Elder Hummel never seemed quite convinced of. And maybe Blaine couldn’t convince him of it now, either, but he had to say it. It pressed on his heart, and if he didn’t speak the words, he would betray not only himself, but the God who had created him.

“I love you, Elder Hummel.”

Kurt sniffed. He let go of Blaine’s wrist.

For a moment, Blaine wondered if he had gone too far. If he had taken this moment between the Holy Ghost and his companion and inserted himself into it, as greedily and callously as the people back home who had inserted themselves into Kurt’s grief.

But then Kurt’s hands were on Blaine’s arms, and his chin was on Blaine’s shoulder, and his fingers were sliding comfortingly over his upper back as if they knew they belonged there. Kurt rested his cheek against Blaine’s neck and wrapped his arms so snugly around him that their chests pressed together. Blaine thought he could feel his companion’s heart beat. “I love you too,” Elder Hummel said for the first time. “I love you too.”

#gleefulpaintbox #mormon!klaine #wowbright writes fic #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #religious trauma #so mormony #my gleefulpaintbox #mr schue doesn't come across too good in this one #but the point is not to be anti-schue #the point is that grief is a shitstorm #also they go down a lot of doctrinal rabbit trails my gahhhd #hope i don't lose anyone too much in those

[ruzek-halstead]

i found my hand is holding yours

so this started as a drabble and was supposed to be hella short, but please enjoy 1.6k words of julie and luke being absolutely adorable. 

julie has been dealing with a persistent classmate who won’t take no for an answer, so luke accompanies her to their end-of-the-term party in hopes to get the point across. 

masterlist

"okay, so i have a really weird favour to ask.”

luke looked up from his guitar, arching a brow at julie's obvious distress. they had been at it for a few hours, trying to write a new song, but the motivation wasn't really flowing. ultimately they decided to separate and see what they could come up with on their own. it was a bit pointless since all luke could think about was the girl in the corner and all of his feelings for her.

"there are only a handful of things i wouldn't do for you, jules. so, shoot."

the apparent blush on her cheeks was unavoidable, so she pulled a few stray curls out from behind her ears. 

"would you mind coming with me to this end of term party type thing?" julie asked, hesitantly biting her lip. it wasn't that she didn't think he'd be up for it, it was just the uncomfortableness of the entire situation. "it's for everyone in our music program. but there's just this guy who isn't really getting the hint and i figure if —" luke's eyes snapped over to her nervous and fiddling figure as soon as she mentioned a boy. "i'll be there," he replied instantly. his limited motivation to continue strumming his guitar until he found a melody he enjoyed immediately disappeared, and all he could think about was that julie had been feeling uncomfortable lately, and he had no idea. "he's not like a bad guy or anything!" julie rushed to add, because she had a heart of gold and always sought the best in people. "he's sweet, really — sort of. he's just also very persistent and i'm not —" "you don't need to explain," luke told her, shooting her a lopsided grin to calm her nerves. "i'll be there." it was a blessing in disguise that the boys could now be seen by everyone, and not just when they were performing with julie. she would feel much more comfortable with luke by her side; he was her anchor, and it helped that he was so protective, that hopefully he would help get the hint across to her surprise suitor. she knew what luke was thinking; was it nick? and the answer was no. they were friends now, nothing more. but a few months back, a new student joined their program, and he was partnered with julie for a few exercises. she didn't think anything of it, being friendly and polite as per her usual. it seemed like somewhere along the way, he developed feelings for her and no matter how many times she said no to a date, he kept asking. something about persistence? julie hated it. he was still constantly polite and respectful, but the mere fact that he wouldn't take no for an answer was severely unnerving for her. she hoped him seeing her with luke would get the hint across that she wasn't interested (and if it led him to believe that she wasn't available, then so be it). the music program party was being held in the school gym, filled with games, snacks and of course, an open mic. even though julie was a tad bit nervous to attend, luke confidently grabbed onto her hand and quite literally dragged her into the gymnasium. "socialization is good for you, jules," he had said teasingly, to which julie squeezed his hand painfully. he shot her a wolfish grin in response. "i'm going to get us drinks, you good?" luke pondered, ducking his eyes to meet hers. he could tell how nervous she looked by the way she couldn't stop moving her hands, and it irritated him that someone was making her feel weary like this. "jules," he repeated, squeezing her hand. julie nodded, raising her chin in a more obvious display of confidence. "i'm good," she insisted. he pulled on their hands until he was out of her reach and hers dropped back down to her side. the gym was decently filled; julie recognized a number of familiar faces as she actively searched for flynn, who had shot her a message saying she was already here. as she was distracted searching through the crowd, she didn't notice the one person she was trying to avoid. his name was caden, and he was cute and sweet, but he was just not getting it. "hey julie! it's nice to see you!" his hands were shoved into the front pockets of his jeans as he rocked back and forth. "are you planning on singing tonight?" julie shot him a polite smile. she just didn't have it in her to be mean, but she knew if she was a bit more direct and aggressive, this entire situation might end here and now. "probably not. i don't plan on staying long." "oh," his eyes widened, and suddenly julie knew that was the wrong thing to say. "did you maybe want to go out after? coffee or something?" julie felt her panic start to climb its way up her throat; god, where the hell was luke? it's okay, she just had to let him down again. "uh, actually —" "here you go, jules!" julie almost screamed in relief when she heard luke's familiar voice. he slipped in next to her, bumping her hip clumsily. to the untrained eye, it looked like he was just being a walking hazard, but julie knew it was on purpose. he was a touch-oriented person, and his touch soothed julie; they both knew that. luke handed julie a cup of punch, and his gaze flitted to caden, who was staring at them with wide blue eyes. "oh hey! my name's luke, i'm in the band with julie." with his free hand, he reached over to shake caden's hand. caden looked surprised and a tad disappointed, but he was nothing but respectful to luke as he introduced himself. "i'm caden, one of julie's classmates." a comfortable silence passed among them as their focus was directed to the stage where one of their classmates was performing. luke could sense julie's tension and his free hand reached down for hers. he didn't outright tangle their fingers together but his pinky reached out to wrap with hers in a comforting gesture. it gave her the power to do whatever she felt comfortable with. unbeknownst to them, caden watched their entire interaction, and even though he was disappointed, only a blind person wouldn't see their obvious connection. it suddenly dawned on him why julie never seemed to reciprocate his intentions, and he couldn't believe he'd never caught on before (he saw their performances on youtube videos). "ah, so you two are...?" caden trailed off, unsure of what to label it. luke and julie glanced over at him, julie with furrowed eyebrows, and luke with a somewhat smug but innocent expression. "oh, we're not re—" julie started to say, but caden shook his head, smiling. "i should've figure it out sooner," he added, "i've seen the youtube videos. you can't fake that chemistry." luke pursed his lips at the use of the word chemistry. at one point, he'd deny it, but at this point? it would be an outright lie. julie, however, just looked confused. "sure, but that's no—" "it's okay julie, you don't have to explain," caden insisted. "i see the way he looks at you, and i get it now. i'll see you around," he smiled, waving before he walked away. luke awkwardly sipped his drink. he wasn't expecting to be put on blast like that. he couldn't exactly control his eyes and what they did when they looked at julie. she was the embodiment of beauty and music and perfection, and that was everything luke saw when he looked at her. if he was exhibiting 'heart-eyes' (as alex and reggie had told him multiple times), he couldn't stop it. "okay, well, i guess that worked," julie smiled, tapping her cup against luke's in cheers. "although, i wonder why he thought we were — you know." luke glanced over at her. she was watching the stage performance with such a sense of innocence that luke almost didn't want to burst her bubble. almost. "come on, jules," he chuckled, shaking his head when she turned to him with questioning eyes. "you know why." julie pursed her lips, holding his steady gaze. it was challenging because his eyes were absolutely gorgeous and intense, and clearly the way he looked at her made her feel things. sometimes she could feel his gaze on her while she played piano, or while she studied for a test or wrote excitedly in his (their) song journal. sometimes she would look over at him and he'd already be looking at her. and at first, he would look away in embarrassment, but now, he would hold her gaze, sometimes even going as far to send a smirk to really throw her off her game and fluster her. something had changed between them along the way and they both knew it. they just hadn't decided when was the right time to address it. the truth was luke could be ripped away at any moment; the thought caused julie to live in a constant state of paralyzing fear. and so, the time never felt right. "yeah," julie mumbled, reached for his hand again. "i do." julie didn't end up leaving early. she found herself in the corner of the gym, leaning against the wall with luke's arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. they watched performance after performance and they couldn't even be bothered to get up on stage and show them what a real duet looked like because they were so comfortable in each other's arms. and as julie tipped her head onto luke's shoulder, a sudden wave of exhaustion overtaking her, she knew caden never had a chance because her heart was already taken.

-

tag list: @grootsgillespie || @jayhalsteadcpd || @moreflowersthanweeds || @well-hes-just-too-cute || @echocharm17618 || @leopard-print-slippers || @jandthephantoms || @scribblingfangirl || @n0wornever || @simpformolina || @only-trust-fictional-characters || @snowmione18 || @tellurphantoms || @knitsessed || @carriewilsons || @elitharavenclaw || @wakeupfantoms || @uselessnerdnherblahg || @katie-navarro || @bookwormswillruletheworld || @lmaohuh || @thatsmyverb || @sophiphi || @kybee1497 || @lukewearingbeanies || @sapphireamethystvsco || @constantly-singing || @helloilovejatp || @your-typical-ingenue || @nonickslander || @s-h-a-d-o-w-s || @asdfghjkl-fanfics 

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #juke #jukebox #luke x julie #julie x luke #juke fic #juke fics #jatp fic #jatp fics #luke patterson #julie molina #fics

[herotome]

Taglist & FAQ

Moving this into a post because the old FAQ page was built-in to the blog template - which I don't think is mobile accessible.

I'll try to keep this up-to-date!

Taglist

These links only work on desktop. For mobile-users, please scroll all the way down to click the actual hashtags on the post.

#herotome highlights: - in which you will find VERY COOL images and videos I've posted to introduce you to the game! Highly recommended you check it out if you're new to the blog. :)

#herotome update: in which you will find devlogs, which often contain progress art and development screenshots/gifs; also known as the Latest Weekly Update.

#herotome ask: in which you may find character, story, and development text answers related to the game.

#content warning: for asks concerning specific phobias and triggers, and whether or not they will come up in the game. (Answer: it's not a horror game so probably not, but I'm happy to assuage any fears.)

#herotome spicy margaritas: for written answers that are not explicit but do contain frank allusions to sensuality and/or sexual activity. Not quite NSFW, but leans on it.

#RO: everyone: for scenario/prompt asks that include the entire cast of love interests. Usually "How would the LIs react to--?"

Character Tags

#RO: warden (he/him: the reluctant leader and local rough boy)

#RO: griffin (he/she: the charming "executive" secretary)

Note: Griffin uses both pronouns and is NOT a gender-selectable character.

#RO: mia (she/her: the new hire who's mad about you being a newer hire)

#RO: dart (he/him: the straight-edge night shift motorcyclist)

#RO: jade (she/her: the telekinetic superstar with severe anxiety)

#katie cat (she/her: your cat)

#basketball boy (he/him: your cigar-smoking landlord whose number you can block; all his excuses involve talking about basketball for some reason)

#alcoholic sniper (he/him: one of your antagonists; boozer eggplant mummy)

Actual FAQ under the cut. :) If you don't see the cut, please click on the post to view it in full.

Index: General FAQ | The Love Interests | The Heroine

General FAQ

But what is Herotome?

Herotome is a visual novel and dating sim with a superhero theme.

This game was initially conceived on February 17th, 2017. I released text-based alpha sometime around late December of the same year, and started coding in Renpy shortly after that. I released a prologue demo on itch in 2021, and am working on the next installment.

Cool! Where can I play it when it’s done?

Thhheeee above link should still work, if you wanna bookmark it or follow me on itch.io. I might try to release the game on steam in the distant future, but you might have to wait a while.

Why a while? :(  Why do I have to wait?

Because… I’m funding the project out of my own pocket, and on top of that I have to fight my perfectionism and my anxiety in unarmed mud wrestling every single day in order to write, draw and program everything.

Can I help with funding the game? Would that make it go faster?

Yeah! Here’s my Ko-Fi. Every little bit helps me secure assets, authenticity readers, and improve the game's polish. :)

You mention that someday you might run an Indiegogo, but why not Kickstarter?

Kickstarter doesn't support my country, Indiegogo does.

My anti-virus says your demo/game is a security risk!

I'm not surprised because this has happened to a lot of renpy games that have custom windows/mac icons. I promise I do not have enough knowledge or evil energy to create and distribute malware. I need to preserve my evil energy for fun things, like writing bad dialogue choices and shitposting.

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The Love Interests

Who are the love interests?

Scroll down this page to find the characters. They’d love to meet you!

Sexualities? 👀

Alright I caved, here you go. Please play nice!

And you said they're ace-aro friendly? How so?

They are. You will be able choose in-game whether you will remain platonic coworkers or start a romantic relationship. The characters won't get mad if you turn down their advances.

Please refer to this post for specifics.

And… how tall are they?

Here you go!

MBTI types?

Mmhm! Answered here.

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The Heroine

Can I change the MC's pronouns?

2023 Update: Yes.

However, please keep in mind that game is currently written from the perspective of a female protagonist. Characters in the game will occasionally perceive and refer to the protagonist as a woman, regardless of pronouns chosen.

Can you tell me more about the MC's powers?

No, but I can show you an excerpt from my writing. Answered here.

Okay… so what CAN I customize?

This game is vastly more about choices than protagonist customization.

There are 3-5 dialogue choices displayed at a time. The idea is for the game to feel like you’re having a real conversation with the characters; for you to be able to choose what you want to say, not just picking between the “correct” answer and the “wrong” answer.

You will organically choose your love interest by getting to know them and letting them get to know you, rather than choosing their name from a list.

… To answer the question though, you’ll be able to change the player character’s name and profile picture (a la Mystic Messenger). Given more time and resources, I hope to work with more customization features in future games. <3

With more time and resources, what customization features would you put into THIS game?

I’m glad you asked!!!! I’d love to work with character stats, an in-game social media page, a customizable bedroom and dress-up games – all the things that are definitely out of scope for the upcoming demo.

Although I really, really, really want to have a customizable bedroom in particular. I have a soft spot for it from Pokemon: Crystal.

Right now I’m working on a cookie clicker minigame and a chatroom feature. Not customization, necessarily, but hopefully a lot of fun regardless.

Who’s working on this game?

Actively working on it? Toiling and slaving over it day and night? Just me, Wudge. (Hi!) I credit myself as the art director, executive editor and founder of the project, but tbh I’m doing a lot of the menial labor, too. Hahah. Most notably, I write the script, I design the assets (characters, backgrounds, aesthetic), I code, I playtest aggressively to ensure the code works, and I coordinate everything to keep it moving and balanced.

I do work with some very talented freelancers for the more specialized odds and ends (sprite coloring, GUI, backgrounds, editing, music, programming, etc), and you’ll see mentions of these radical people in the devlogs. :)

.

... Eh, no one's asked this yet, but here's one more for kicks:

Why haven't you answered my ask? :(

If you sent some love and attention my way, don't fret, I have surely received it and it nourishes my heart. <3

In regards to the non-spiritual, physical act of actually answering an ask/message, here are some situations where I might not respond at all:

if the ask concerns heavy details that would be more appropriately revealed alongside in-game context (such as mental health issues and backstory trauma). I probably won’t reply to an ask about how Griffin feels about being in a wheelchair or how it happened, for example.

if the ask contains a topic that I’m actively researching, wherein I’d want to represent these topics with adequate respect and responsibility after consulting with my authenticity readers.

if I genuinely don’t know the answer and need to take a hot minute to think about it.

if the ask concerns or straight up predicts a plot point that may or may not 100% happen in the game, you naughty little soothsayer.

if the ask uses strong language and name-calling (even playfully well-intentioned ones like “I fucking love these dumbasses”)- not because I get offended, but because I get startled! I have nothing against cursing - I do it a lot myself - but it can take me a while to discern the tone if it’s directed at me.

You have to consider the possibility that maybe I'm hanging upside down by my ankle. Everybody has their own schedule, you know? And sometimes people spend time away from their phone or computer because they are currently suspended from a tree branch by a rope tied around their ankle.

NSFW asks will be hit or miss - mostly because I’m at a bit of a crossroads on whether I’m going to make the game 100% SFW, or add in NSFW premium content later, or have NSFW content in the game (which can be turned off and on). I think people vastly prefer that last one, and I personally enjoy it in the games I play; I just need time to decide if it feels right for Herotome as a whole.

I do still welcome all questions, I just ask that people understand if I take a while or choose not to reply for my own reasons. (:

#herotome update #herotome ask #content warning #character ask #RO: everyone #RO: warden #RO: griffin #RO: mia #RO: dart #RO: jade #basketball boy #alcoholic sniper #katie cat #herotome spicy margaritas #herotome highlights