glee feature

hello! i would like to share with you my favourite tv series with LGBT characters. ( my favourites bolded)


  • The fosters - a family drama about a biracial lesbian couple with biological fostered and adopted children whom one of them is gay.
  • Glee -  a school drama featuring a glee club.  featuring various lgbt characters. 
  • shadowhunters - a gay insecure boy falls in love with his best friend before meeting a freewheeling bisexual warlock.

Keep reading

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A Suzakana-theme flower crown for babe @strangestorys, who asked for the whole murder tableaux <3 Never have I ever cackled with more glee while making something.

Featuring hand-made anatomical heart, handmade starling, and a slightly altered horse complete with c-section incision. Flowers are in yellows and shades of brown for the barn theme to the episode, with lots of prickly brambles and spriggy bits suggestive of straw.

Like it? Want your own? Commissions are open!

[ARTICLE] 5 Years of BIGBANG's 'Fantastic Baby'

Trends come and go pretty quickly in music, particularly in the K-pop industry, but the staying power of some hits can’t be denied. On March 7, 2012, Korean boy band BIGBANG released the music video for their single “Fantastic Baby,” and fans around the world have been saying “Wow, fantastic baby” ever since.

While they were already dominating the local popular music scene, the South Korean act produced one of the few K-pop songs to garner attention internationally with “Fantastic Baby,” in part thanks to the song’s dynamic sound and the stimulating visual feast that is the music video. The boisterous, genre-blending sound was something altogether new for the act at the time, while the seditious music video promoted music as a form of rebellion.

After debuting as a group with more old-school R&B and hip-hop leanings, BIGBANG had become known both for sentimental tunes and more upbeat dance tracks, but the swaggering “Fantastic Baby” ushered in new era that poised the group as one of Korea’s most ambitious acts.

The single, one of three from their Billboard 200-charting Alive EP, drew on electropop and hip-hop to form a full-on banger, paving the way for many of BIGBANG’s more club-ready releases, most notably G-Dragon and Taeyang’s trap-heavy “Good Boy” in 2014 and 2015’s “Bang Bang Bang.” Moving forward, the quintet’s songs began exploring more diverse sonic styles, releasing hit after hit that surpassed the limitations of any one genre. Their latest hits, 2016’s “Fxxk It” and “Last Dance,” exemplified this: the former was an electronic hip-hop track, while the latter was a pop-rock ballad.

As for the video itself, “Fantastic Baby” featured the fivesome in a futuristic world tinged with traditional Korean elements, showing some members ruling over disciples and others literally chained to walls, as they strained to change the world around them while dropping memorable catch phrases like “boom shakalaka” and “I wanna dance.” Things came to an end with a giant dance party and BIGBANG being crowned kings upon thrones.

With the exhilarating song and a video that took K-pop to a whole new level through its creative flair, “Fantastic Baby” has gone on to become one of the most-watched Korean music videos on YouTube aside from those by Psy; as of the anniversary, it has been watched more than 279 million times.

This immense visibility has led “Fantastic Baby” to have a long-lasting effect on Hollywood in the five years since it was released. In 2012, just months after “Fantastic Baby” came out, an episode of Glee featured the song as background music while the male characters learned to emulate K-pop boy band dance moves. Three years later, “Fantastic Baby" was still making an impact internationally and was featured in the trailer for Pitch Perfect 2, although the song was not included on the film’s official soundtrack.

As one of the biggest Korean songs ever, “Fantastic Baby” is, truly, fantastic.

© billboard

anonymous asked:

A teen sole saving one of the adult companions asses when they first meet? Teen sole getting frustrated when people say "you're just a kid, what do you know?" And decking them in the face and basically being very mature for their age.

((In my opinion, this wouldn’t be a common occurrence in the Fallout universe. People grow up a lot faster in harsh environments, and considering that in this universe sixteen is pretty much an adult, a teenager being talked down to doesn’t make a lot of sense. So, for the purposes of this reaction, Sole will be around twelve to thirteen.))


Cait: Focused on her current fight, she almost missed the chaos breaking out in the stands outside the arena. As she ended the match with a brutal blow to the back of the man’s head, she realized the gunfire blazing through the stands. The next thing she knew Tommy had pulled her into a corner as the battle in the bleachers continued.

Soon, the room fell silent, and… and a damn kid walked out, an over-sized wrench balanced on their thin shoulder like everything was cool. Blood stained the caps of their boots, and faint acne stood out on a grimy face. They hadn’t hit puberty yet, but the casually violent gleam in their eye spoke volumes.

“Uh, kid,” Tommy tried to begin, not quite sure what to say.

“Don’t call me kid.” The pipsqueak glared, hefting their wrench with a fierce look. “I just kicked all their asses. I ain’t a kid.”

Cait decided she liked ‘em.

Codsworth: He hummed a pleasant tune under his breath, or rather, low in his voice box. He wiped a semi-clean dishrag over the rusty car, and decided it looked much better after several hours of devoted scrubbing. (It did not.) But a clatter from the other room startled him, and the rag fell from his claw. His engine sputtering with nervous energy, he hovered back into the house, looking around for the source of the noise.

In one of the back rooms, the Mr. Handy found an adolescent, huddled in a corner of old nursery and trying not to be noticed. For a moment, something sharp and electrical rumbled in Codsworths’ torso. “Master Shaun?” he questioned, his voice soft.

They shook their head. A lock of hair shifted and revealed their face, and they didn’t resemble the old Master and Ma'am at all. A mix of relief and regret panged in the old robot’s chest. “Well. Ah.” His three-eyed gaze shifted to the toy car clutched in the young human’s hand. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Curie: She brushed dust from her lab coat, busy pouring over a selection of microscopes and bacterial samples. Test tubes clinked as she set them down in their tray, and let out a sigh of satisfaction as she plucked her gloves from her fingers. She turned around and gasped, jerking back as she saw a child leaning over her test tubes. “Eloigne-toi de là!” she exclaimed, pulling them away. “That is very delicate!”

“Yeah, I know. Bacteria, isn’t it?” The adolescent squirmed in Curie’s grasp. “You’re making medicine and shit. I recognize those names from the words on pill bottles.”

Curie stopped, looking down at the young human with parted lips and an expression of shock on her face. “Why, yes. Yes, it is!” Glee lit up her features, and she bombarded the thirteen-year-old with question, and upon learning that they were on their own, proceeded to semi-adopt them. The kid took a bit of issue with this, but was willing to indulge Curie’s maternal yearnings as long as they got paid in potato crisps and bottlecaps.

Danse: Grumbling to himself, he sat down and leaned over a dusty desk in the Cambridge Police Station, writing out reports to be sent back to Maxson. He was engrossed in his work when something… crinkled. He stopped, looking up in confusion. “What-?”

Not a sound.

He looked back down again, and began writing. The crinkling resumed, louder and more insistent. Danse sat up, scanning the room. “Haylen, this is inappropriate. Stop this at once.”

Silence.

Hoping he’d done enough, Danse looked back down, only to hear the crinkling resume as though it was right next to his ear. He growled and lunged up from his chair, but all his irritation dissipated as he caught sight of the pre-teen hiding beneath his desk, a packet of chips in their hand. “…Yo,” they said.

“Hi.” Suddenly Danse wished it was Haylen after all.

“You gonna kill me?”

“Possibly.”

“Well, shit.”

Deacon: The agent pushed his sunglasses up his nose, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he looked around the settlement marketplace. He was keeping an eye on a strange, pre-teen kid that’d wandered into the market. He watched them look over the goods like he had all the time in the world, and then, much to Deacon’s amusement, steal several small items when the shopkeepers weren’t paying attention.

But unfortunately for the confident Scavver Junior, one of the guards caught them trying to pocket a few bottles of purified water. The kid made an admirable effort, dropping excuses and smiles and squirms to  a degree that impressed even Deacon, so much so that he stepped forward, pressing a hand to the kid’s shoulder and giving the cop a quick explaination. Tossing a small pouch of caps to the guard, he whisked the kid into a dark alley before anyone could catch them. 

“Thanks,” the kid grumbled, taking out a bottle of water. 

“What - I don’t get any? I saved you from being locked up. I think I get a sip, at least.” The kid grunted and handed Deacon the bottle. He lifted it to his lips, took a drink, and when he looked back down, Scavver Junior had vanished. When his surprise faded, a slow, approving smile curved his lips.

Dogmeat: The canine snuffled the ground, dark paws padding along the dirt as he trailed the human’s scent. Dogmeat was a smart dog - no one could argue he wasn’t. And he had a bit of a knack for determining what humans were for eating, and what humans were for protecting. And judging by this human’s smell… This one felt like they needed his help.

Bounding up over a hill, Dogmeat startled the adolescent, hissing as they stumbled back on their injured leg. Approaching slowly, his tongue lolling from his mouth so as not to be threatening, the dog walked up to the human, bumping his wet nose against their palms. Noting the coppery smell of the human’s leg, he barked and darted off, racing away so fast the kid almost thought he’d abandoned them.

But he returned a few moments later, a stimpack held between his jaws, only slightly slobbered. Accepting the gift, the kid stuck the much-needed medicine into their thigh, sighing in relief. “Good doggy.” They ruffled the canine’s ears, and Dogmeat was presented with a gift of burnt Radroach meat. This arrangement made both dog and human very happy.

Hancock: He’s having a discussion with Fahrenheit outside the Old State House when the front door of Goodneighbor creaks open. On habit, he observes the new guest in the corner of his eye. Short, skinny, with a weapon bigger than they were. Classy. The tiny ones were always vicious. But he sees, with a curl of his lip, Finn going over with a sly smirk on his lips. He catches the word ‘protection,’ and holds up a finger to hush Fahrenheit.

He turns around, his coat billowing out behind him. He’s about to interrupt, about to give Finn a piece of his mind, when Tiny reaches up and clocks Finn right in the jaw, sending the man staggering back, eyes crossed. Finn shakes his head clear and steps forward with a growl, and Hancock hurriedly intervenes. One dagger to the ribs later, Finn’s no longer a problem, and Tiny’s got their arms crossed and a fierce look on their face.

The ghoul grins. “Welcome to Goodneighbor, pal. I think you’ll fit right in.”

Nick Valentine: Pouring over a stack of case files, he sighs, rubbing his temples with his metal claw. The door creaks, and he lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at the strange look on Ellie’s face. “Uh… Someone here to see you, Nick.” She steps into the room, fingers twisting in the fabric of her skirt, and the client walks in after her.

At least, Nick thinks it’s the client. Adolescents don’t generally come to private eyes. Either they need help locating a lost teddy, or something really, really bad happened to them. There’s no in between with kids. “What do you need, sport?” Valentine questions.

The kid scowls. “I’m not ‘sport.’ I’m Sole. And I need a favor. And if you’re gonna treat me like I don’t know what I’m talking about, I can take my business elsewhere.”

Nick’s eyebrows shoot into his forehead. He shares a brief look with Ellie, before gesturing to the chair opposite him at his desk. “Meant no disrespect. Please - take a seat. I’m all ears.”

MacCready: Winlock and Barnes grumble to themselves as they head back through the Third Rail. He thinks that’s the end of it, until light footsteps pad into the room, and he looks up, an eyebrow already raised before he even sees the intruder. It’s a kid, and the sour look on their face is enough to send his thoughts all the way back to Little Lamplight. “Yo. You a mercenary?” they question.

A smile tugs at his lips, but he knows grinning at this kid isn’t going to end well. He puts on his most serious face, and matches the kid’s gaze. “I am. You hiring?“ 

Seemingly pleased by the show of respect, the kid tosses a heavy sack of caps into his lap. “Sure as shit am.”

By the weight of it alone, Mac knows the bag is more than enough to buy his service. He grins. “Show me where to shoot, boss.”

Piper: “So who’s your friend, Nat?” She questions, looking between her sister and the pre-teen buying a paper. 

“I’m not her friend. I’m a customer,” the kid responds sharply. “Just passing through.” They hold out the paper, lifting their chin and making a show of reading the articles. Piper has to hold in a giggle. 

“Oh, of course. Sorry, my mistake.” The desire to smirk makes her lips twitch. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

The kid narrows their eyes at her, not sure if she’s joking or being serious. “I dunno. Got any free caps lying around?”

“No, but I’ve got Colas and Gum Drops inside.” She tilts her head, gesturing to the house next door. She smiles. “That sound good enough?”

“Sorry,” they smirk in reply. “My mom told me never to take candy from strangers.”

Preston: Sweat beads down his face as he fires into the crowd of raiders below him. He’s switched to a different target, finger curling around the trigger when he realizes that it’s not a raider he’s aiming for. “Hey!” he shouts, without thinking. “Kid! Get out of here!”

Then, distantly, over the sound of gunfire and laser bursts: “Fuck off!”

He’s too busy trying not to die to be surprised. Though that changes when a few careful shots from the kid down a couple raiders, and soon it’s just them, standing in the middle of the road. “Jesus,” he murmurs. “Hey! What’re you doing out here?” he calls down.

A beat. “Looking for caps. The hell does it look like?”

The Minuteman is a bit taken aback. “Where are your parents?” He can feel the eyeroll from here.

“What the fuck do you think? I just killed these dudes for you, can you be a little less patronizing?”

A faint flush rises on Preston’s neck. “Uh. Sure. Yeah! Sorry!”

Strong: Excuse me? No self-respecting pre-teen (badass or otherwise) is going to willingly engage a clan of Super Mutants three times their size. Some crazy bastard is sending out a radio signal atop some skyscraper? Fuck that shit. Rex Goodman is gonna get eaten, and while that’s a shame, they aren’t about to go risking life and limb for a crazy person thirty stories up. No sir.

X6-88: He first encounters them while out on a mission. He’s passing through a semi-populated area, and scans the nearby buildings for life. He finds it, alright, scaring the (possibly literal) shit out of a hapless child. “Jesus!” The small human leaps to their feet, fumbling for a rifle and pointing it square at X6’s chest. “Back the fuck off, buddy.”

The Courser doesn’t flinch. “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary, here? I am looking for information?”

“Are you fucking deaf, asswad? And what’s up with that accent? Seriously.”

X6 takes a deliberate step forward. “I asked you a question.”

The human’s hands curl around their weapon. “And I told you to back, the fuck, off. Buddy.”

The Courser doesn’t like the human’s insolent tone, and strides forward, prepared to clasp his hands around their neck. But sensing his aggression, they turn, leaping out a nearby window and vanishing. He lunges for the window, sticking his head out and looking around. No sight of them.

Interesting.

((Thanks for the ask, anon! I know it might be different than what you intended or expected, but I thought it was fun. I hope you liked it! Also… can you tell what Fallout child I took inspiration from? :P ))

Lynne’s Featured Fics

Title: Be My Muse

Author: Mercury-Skies

Rating: NC-17

Status: Complete

Word Count:  49,323

Summary:  Kurt is an Art student at NYU who is partnered with the mysterious but talented Blaine Anderson for a piece on identity and finds himself instantly captivated and longing to know more. Blaine is a good guy with a bad reputation stemming from his Freshman year whose issues often get the better of him. Blaine, defensive and bitter, finds hope in Kurt.

Tropes/Genre: future!fic, college!Klaine, angst, blangst, drug use, hurt/comfort, romance

Lynne’s review:  There are certain fics that when you go back years later to reread, you fall in love with all over again. This is one of those fics. I reread this to write my review since I hadn’t read it in some time. Completely in love yet again. Let me begin by saying that this fic is probably (other than Yadiva’s fics) the farthest away from my usual fare that I can get. I am a fluff n smut n humor kinda gal. While this fic has smut, it’s definitely not funny, nor very fluffy (there is sweet fluff with Cooper’s daughter Bella however).

Please don’t let that deter you.  First and foremost, this is a LOVE story. A deeply devoted, intense, powerful, all encompassing love story. Although it’s not called a “soulmate” fic, I really consider these two souls in this story to be soulmates. From the moment they meet, you can literally feel their connection. This ride is intense, and often times very difficult to read - it’s raw, emotional and real. But remember it’s a LOVE STORY. A beautiful, unforgettable, love story. Against all odds (see what I did there?), they save each other.

Oh, and the fact that Blaine speaks Italian to Kurt…BONUS FEELS!

Read at: AO3 or Tumblr

There are 8 more stories in this verse - I highly recommend them all.

~~~

Title:  That Naked Fic                 

Author: CertainTendencies

Rating: R                                    

Status: Complete

Word Count: 8,000

Summary:  Darren sees Chris naked. Darren can’t stop thinking about Chris naked. Darren totally wants to bang kiss date Chris.

Tropes/Genres: CrissColfer fanfiction, fluff, humor, romance, canon!CC

Review:  I’ve read this story so many times that I’ve lost count.  I adore the way she writes CrissColfer.  It’s so fresh and natural - their banter is very realistic.  There’s humor and humility, snarkiness and shyness. I highly suggest you all read every fic she’s ever written, and this one is a great place to start.

Read at: Tumblr


Zinnia’s Featured Fics

Title: Little Boy Who Lives Down The Lane

Author: Cimmerians

Rating: M

Status: Complete

Word Count: 30,738

Summary: The Klaine version of a dark fairytale. This story contains character death, pederasty, violence, and a deep streak of human nastiness. Do not read if these things upset you.

Tropes/Genres: AU, angst, character death, mystery, romance

Review: This story will demand your fully undivided attention. Make sure your mind is clear and you are free of distractions before you read it, because the minute you start to think you’ve figured it all out, you’ll be spun around another 180 degrees. To say Kurt and his backstory will surprise you is an understatement. A tragically twisted story that will astonish you, induce a couple of belly laughs at the banter even among all the somber themes two teenage boys face, and make you fall in love with them all over again.

Read at: Tumblr

~~~

Title: Like You Mean It

Author: CertainTendencies

Rating: NC-17

Status: Complete

Word Count: 11,952

Summary: The boys engage in a little friendly competition.

Tropes/Genres: CrissColfer Fanfiction. Fluff, Humor, Romance.

Review: I could not believe I had not read this fic until yesterday. A short read that starts out funny and light and “goes places”. Very well written. The characterization was incredible. There’s only one way a kissing competition can end. 

Read at: Tumblr

Welcome to the Convince Me Initiative's 17th contest of CREATIVE CRACKSHIPS!

What does this mean:  
We take 6 suggestions from our followers, and we use them for our contest!

Crackships-  The top 6, as submitted by you, the voters, are:

  1. Any sort: Erik X (from Creature Feature) and Mila Kunis
  2. Any: Matthew Daddario and Harry Shum Jr.
  3. Any:  Leon Thomas III and Lea Michele 
  4. Any Sort: Audrey Kitching and Kate (Katherine) Moennig
  5. Any: Phoebe Tonkin and Owen Wilson
  6. 3s and 4s:  Lucy Hale, Jonathan Groff, and Ed Robertson (from Barenaked Ladies)

Submissions:
-Pick a pairing, & show us your art! Gifs, manips, drawing/digital art/etc, or even make a video! Submit the crackship, or submit a link to the post of it.
Submit As Many Entries As You Like. -There’s no rating, so you can let your imagination run wild. 
-It doesn’t have to be new for the contest, or only have the names mentioned in it.  As long as you made it, and it fits, that’s all we care about.
-Even if you don’t enter, you can still win something! Get 5 people to enter (this can include yourself), and you’ll get a prize!

Deadline: You have until August 8th to finish submissions!
Ask questions, if you’ve got ‘em.  Enter early.  Enter often.  Have fun, and Convince Me!

Prizes: Check the Convince Me Initiative for more details.  

Please enter and reblog! We want to give you things. (Also, we rely on reblogs to get exposure, and if we need some entrants, to justify keeping this going. Do it for the crackships. Do it for the pngs. Do it for us?)

Her Voice, His Vice

Summary:  On a hunt for a vampire with the Winchesters in a cliché karaoke bar
Characters: Dean Winchester x Female Reader, Sam Winchester
Word Count: 1,501
Warnings: None really. Sassy reader. Flirty Dean. Some fluff
Author’s Note: This is for @mamaredd123’s 100 challenge! Congrats on your milestone and thank you for letting me be a part of it! My song was “Vices” by Miranda Lambert, Dean, and “Bottled toilet water? Why do you keep spraying it?”

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Originally posted by iwantyour-love

Of all the places a hunt would take us, it would be a karaoke bar. This was not what the boys wanted to deal with. Apparently a vamp chooses it’s victims by the best singer of the night, luring the victims to their deaths with the promise of him being a manager and getting the victim a record deal. How cliché could this vamp get?

You knew Sam wouldn’t get up to sing and even if he would, it wouldn’t sound like anything other than a moose yelling. Dean would be a great contender if he sang seriously, like he does around you and Sam on occasion. He honestly has a great voice. He just won’t sing in public unless he is drunk which wouldn’t help your case any. This left it all up to you.

You hated singing in public. You’ve never enjoyed being the center of attention but it was the only way you knew of to protect anymore innocent people from being involved. You knew your voice could easily catch attention, and tonight you were volunteering yourself to be bait.  Dean despised the idea but had to agree that it was their best shot. He had heard you sing numerous times, when you never realized he was around. He didn’t want to make you stop. Your voice soothed something down in his soul. Something magical in your voice that kept the mark on his arm from flaring, keeping the rage and urge to kill down to a dull thrum in his veins.

Keep reading

Step One (Chen)

Enjoy! And please have a little read of this~ I’d really appreciate your help! ♥

It’s a good place to start.

His eyelashes are so long, you wonder, staring back at your brother’s sleeping best friend, the younger boy’s head perched comfortably between your shoulder and the back of the sofa. Minseok had invited the two of you along to one of his weekly “movie indulgence nights” and put on some depressing movie that honestly, you weren’t watching due to the dashingly handsome boy beside you anyway.

Jongdae came to every one he was invited to, but then when didn’t Jongdae come over when invited? When wasn’t Jongdae in your home? It felt like he lived there more than Minseok did.

Keep reading

Oh Yeah! (Ba Ba do do do do do do do): My ode to Original Song

So we are now at the first round of the Glee episode tournament that features my favorite episode, Original Song (rivalled closely, and only, by New New York)…

Most around my parts are klaine fans, so this isn’t a shock. I mean…this is the episode that gives us this…

Not to mention this first heart eyes for Kurt Hummel…

Not to mention this adorable…

With an also not to be left out dollop of Kurt sass…

So I GET that this may seem, on its surface, like a klaine-only episode. I get it. But friends - it is NOT. Original Song is, in fact, a STELLAR episode for not just klaine - but music, Glee crack, finchel, brittana, AND the New Directions.

Please join me on this walk down memory lane…In which the Glee club decides to write their own original songs…

Keep reading

Kadam Week Prompt Six: The Boy in the Well, Part 1 of 2

Kurt meets Adam’s ex-boyfriend and realizes that he may not have cornered the market on bad relationships.

Soooo, I noticed that there are no horror genre Kadam fics. (Which is ironic, because I’m terrified of even the corniest of scary movies.) So I thought I’d give it a go. This is a fic wherein Kurt and Adam meet while Kurt’s still in high school, shortly before A Very Glee Christmas.

This fic features a morally-ambiguous Adam (to put it mildly.) I know that seems anathema to the Kadam fandom (because Adam is so sweet and easygoing) but I wanted to try it just the same. And also to challenge myself to write outside my comfort zone. ^_^

Adam’s jerk boyfriend is mentioned in this story, but he doesn’t actually make an appearance, for reasons you’ll soon understand if you decide to keep reading.

Warning: Dark fic. Um, Not really any graphic stuff (and no sexual content), but there are some un-jolly shenanigans just the same. Adam is by no means a threat to Kurt, but the same is certainly not guaranteed for some other parties.

*whispers* Run like hell while you can.

-O-

The slithery-dee,

He came out of the sea,

He ate all the others

But he didn’t eat me.

The slithery-dee,

He came out of the sea,

He ate all the others

And he only spared me. –Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, Adapted

-O-

He staggered through the brush, wading through knee-high, frozen snow. But however far Kurt got the man’s screaming still rang in his ears, and there was still the sound of dry leaves and branches being crushed not far away as the black silhouette ploughed after him. It sang, mocking and singsong, although taut around the edges with obvious fury:

“OLLY-OLLY-OXEN-FREE!”

By now the snow was glittering under the stars like a threat. It was scarcely light enough besides to see his own hand inches away from his face, and he kept smacking into trees and getting tangled in branches, liberally scratching him. Again he felt for his phone in his pockets, and again scrabbled at empty space. He’d dropped it. His one lifeline and he’d dropped it.

His ragged breathing appeared in the frosty air in puffs that swam over his face as he hurried downhill, slipping more than once and soaking himself. He forced himself up and running again, heart beating so painfully in his throat and blood pounding so prominently in his ears he wondered that they hadn’t given him away yet. The moon and stars watched through the trees as he swallowed the cries for help that he knew would only kill him in the end.

“DON’T MAKE ME DRAG YOU OUT, YOU DIRTY LITTLE FAGGOT, DON’T MAKE ME COME FIND YOU!”  

However deep he went, Dave’s voice was not getting any further away, and he was clearly following the evidence Kurt could not erase in the snow drifts. He stopped cold and looked round, clutching at a searing stitch in his side. He knew immediately it was no good throwing Dave off track with a false trail—it would only slow him down.

Chest heaving, the young man went deeper, mind blank with futility and hot with terror. He choked on dry sobs, his clawing hands angry-red, aching and burning fiercely.

“I’LL KILL YOU! GONNA RIP THIS KNIFE THROUGH YOUR ASS AND FUCKING CUT YOU!”

Better to give up now—it was the only left to do, besides hanging himself with his coat—he had his pick of trees, none of which he could scrabble into, however—but his treacherous feet kept moving automatically as he crashed through several bare branches. No good, no good, no good, was the mantra his slipping feet kept crushing through the snow.

Kurt tripped over a tree root, and his vision briefly turned white as he fell for the third time, this time feeling an awful pop in his ankle. There was a brief, horrible split second before the pain fully registered that he understood that he’d been hurt badly before he hit the ground. Pain lanced its way up his ankle, throbbing madly. Voice catching in the lump in his throat, he lay crumpled and winded, wet hair falling messily over his face. Any moment now there would be Dave and his knife and he would tear out his throat and it might be a relief, compared to what else the man might like to do. Especially because he’d shown a proclivity towards assault before.

He screwed up his face and moaned.

It also meant leaving his father alone, harming the only friends he’d ever had, possibly even the boy he crushed on, regardless of how he treated Kurt in the end. Strange how evident that was on the cusp of dying. He pressed his bitterly-cold hands against his mouth to restrain the primal shriek of despair that rattled inside his ribcage like a pinball.  

After some time—he couldn’t tell for how long—he rose again, dripping, glowing with cold and hurt, and hobbled forward. There was a retaliatory stab of pain in his ankle with each step, as if he were the mermaid in the original Hans Christen Anderson story.

Gritting his teeth, a fine sheet of sweat on his brow despite the extreme chill, he managed ten steps before he was forced to clutch a tree for support, every inch of him crying for release as he shakily limped away again, spotting a fallen branch. He quickly broke it into an adequate staff, limping with the birch over his shoulder as he came into a small clearing.

Dave’s shouts and intermittent curses had faded somewhat, but he couldn’t have got away so easily. Perhaps the darkness protected Kurt somewhat, but it wasn’t yet late enough.

Kurt came to a stop before a yew tree, sagging against his support, face deathly-white. Gasping, he looked up to find a small well. The weathered, cracked stone and splintery wood looked positively ancient, but maybe it meant there were buildings somewhere not far away. And inhabitants.

Tasting his heart in his throat, Kurt staggered forward, plunging deeper into the heart of the forest. By now the branches had grown so thick and so clustered overhead he couldn’t see the moon or stars anymore; he was running near-blind.

Kurt’s path narrowed into a thicket-tunnel, and he forced himself to crawl through it, previously throbbing hands rapidly losing feeling in them as they slapped forward against the snow. Dave was still yelling what sounded like lewd promises in the distance, but they sounded more distant now.

Not as distant as Kurt would’ve preferred, however. Maybe this pass would be too big for Dave to lumber through.

The inky tunnel eventually began expanding around him, and soon Kurt was able to shakily rise, wincing as he put some pressure on his injured ankle. Chest heaving, he hurried on, falling and rising upon a gently-sloping hill, nearly rolling down upon it twice as he hauled himself up.

It was then he came upon a house. His breath hitched.

It was an enormous, Victorian beauty, pillared and with pale green shingles lacquered so distinctly even in the night Kurt could see they looked like scales. The roof and dilapidated window panels were a dark slate, and upon the roof and ground floor there were iron fences. Somehow they managed to look both delicate and threatening, the intricate, spindly spirals in the metal belying the sharp arrowheads atop the fence. Kurt squinted at it, struggling to breathe.

Had the light been improved, Kurt would’ve been able to fully recognize the weathered loveliness and hideousness of the house. Clearly it had been elaborately designed, with two small towers constructed into its frame.

But with the panels scattered on the snow about it like missing teeth, the faded paint, the splintered wood and the fact that the distinctly-unwelcoming looking place seemed sunken into the snow, it had a foreboding feel of neglect. Had Kurt not been so frightened, he might’ve sensed how the whole place had a stale taste to the air.

But as it was, not even Kurt cared to appreciate aesthetics as he rushed towards the house, rushing past the old gate, which stiffly opened, creaking in his wake.

Kurt ran faster than he ever had in his life, the pain nearly unrecognizable in the face of overwhelming adrenaline. He slipped twice along the way—the stony pass was icy beneath the snow.

He had to drag himself to the door, pounding furiously. “Hello? Hello, is there anyone here? Help! Help me! It’s an emergency!”

Somewhere Dave bellowed his name. Tears dashing down his face, Kurt frantically hammered the door with both fists.

“Please, please, please open up, he’s going to kill me,” he cried, hot tears splashing on the door. “He’s come to murder me and I’ve got nowhere else to go, no phone, so please—“

The dark windows suddenly lit up like jack-o-lantern eyes, painting the outside yellow. A second later Kurt yelped as the door he’d been leaning against disappeared and he crash-landed on a thick plush carpet. Two hands immediately touched his shoulders and he instinctively recoiled, looking up with terrified eyes.

A young blond man was stooping beside him, visibly concerned. The door was shut—the stranger must’ve opened and closed it in a hurry. He withdrew his hands slightly, pale blue eyes wide.

“What happened?” He asked urgently, trying to heave Kurt to his feet. The boy hissed with pain through his teeth and the young man nearly dropped him in his haste. “Oh, oh, you’re hurt—“ He stared incredulously at Kurt’s face, and Kurt wondered wildly if he looked as bad as he felt. “—you really are hurt, you look like you got into a fight with a bear—“

“Please,” Kurt whispered again, tears continuing to fall despite his shock. He couldn’t stop babbling, everything that he’d kept silent for months slipping out from his crumbled defenses: “All I wanted—all I wanted was for him to leave me alone, he kept torturing me every chance I got because he assaulted me, and I left and I just wanted it to be over, but he—he found me—“

“Shhh. Shhhh.” The young man tentatively looped one of Kurt’s arms around his shoulder. This time the latter tolerated the contact, and Adam’s eyes closed for a brief moment.

“The door is locked.” He pointed toward the door with his foot. “And I have a gun.” Kurt flinched, partially out of the insinuation and from guilt over the shuddery wave of relief that passed over him at the words. He normally objected gun ownership. “No one is coming to hurt you, I promise.

“It will be alright,” The young man soothed as he and Kurt stiffly went forward, Kurt dazedly allowing himself to be led. “My name is Adam. Adam Crawford.” He turned to look at Kurt. “You can explain once we get you down—easy, easy now, you look dead on your feet—“ And while Kurt barely took in anything of his surroundings, he felt himself gently lowered on a sofa that sank beneath him. Adam tentatively let him go, muttering beneath his breath as he hurried away, “Water, hot water, bandages, and ice—“

Kurt’s head sagged back against the sofa, and he took in the background with a mite of curiosity. There was a small brass chandelier with glass bulb-frames that looked as if it’d recovered in an antique shop. There were two small chintz armchairs sitting near a beautiful mantle, beneath which was a fireplace. It was surrounded by two enormous shelves filled with leather-bound books with beautiful, peeling good lettering on their spines.

There were delicate tables scattered around the room, and velvet curtains with tassels hung heavily before the windows; he was grateful the drapes were drawn. The wallpaper was a discolored, intricate floral pattern that looked vintage. There was a cabinet filled with delicate-looking teacups, and on the heavy-looking coffee table before him was a glass decanter and two cups. His brow furrowed as he took in the grandfather clock ticking dutifully in the corner and its swinging pendulum. There were some embroideries hanging on the wall beneath glass. Kurt vaguely remembered his grandmother’s home before she passed away.

His eyes fluttered shut and open as he heard Adam’s footsteps approach, and the young man approached him with a tentative smile, bearing a small tray and steaming bowl. “I like your home,” he couldn’t help but say quietly as Adam set the tray on the table and knelt beside him. “Very 1950’s chic.”

“That’s what mother was going for,” Adam said, sounding amused as if enjoying a private joke. He dipped a small hand towel into the hot water and wrung it out. “She always liked to keep it just so. It was my Grandad’s before he died. Sorry—this might hurt a bit.”

Adam prized Kurt’s boot and sock off the swollen ankle, and the pale boy dug his fingertips into the sofa arm and suppressed a whimper. Adam gave him an apologetic smile as he examined Kurt’s puffy, bruising ankle.

“I’m not a doctor, but if you can still flex it—can you flex it? Oh, good. Then it’s likely a bad sprain.” He wrapped the hot towel around the wound and Kurt watched him with eyes filling up again, so grateful he couldn’t speak.

“Thank you,” he managed at last. Adam looked at him, brow furrowing.

“You’re soaked. Can you take off your coat?” Kurt would’ve blushed, but no color rushed into his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to get your furniture wet—“

“Nonsense. I just don’t want you to catch your death.” Kurt shed his soaking coat in an instant, and Adam took it away.

The sound of a snap made him jump, and he turned to look at a roaring fire which had certainly not been there before.

“Oh, you have an electric fire,” he said as Adam returned. Kurt thought the fireplace looked like wood-burning one, but you could make anything look like anything for the right amount of money.

Adam looked startled, and then chuckled as he stooped beside Kurt again. “That’s a relatively new addition. This house is historical, so the city of Lima can’t raze it. Not that anyone would care to, anyway—this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

“The middle of nowhere in the middle of nowhere,” Kurt murmured, and was pleased when Adam laughed. Adam had a nice laugh, and for the first time he noticed the taller man had an English accent. A little color did return to his face as Adam poured what smelled strongly of anti-septic into another cloth, and leaned forward to dab it on his face. It stung fiercely; he must be raked raw. “Sorry, sorry. Have to clean these.”

“Does it look bad?”

“What are you apologizing for? And yes, it really does, love. I’m sorry.”

“I can do it if you want.”

“No, pay no mind.” Adam applied a bandage to his cheek, cupping the other to hold Kurt’s face steady. He prayed the latter didn’t feel it burn.

Adam slowly withdrew, reaching for a glass on the table which was filled with something dark and pushed it into Kurt’s hands. Kurt took it at once, too distracted to remember that it had been empty seconds before.

“Now, drink this. It’ll warm you up.” He sat beside Kurt and looked at him expectantly. “Drink this and start from the beginning.

“Whom are you?” Kurt’s eyelashes brushed his cheekbones. He took a sip of the maroon contents a little and coughed at the dry tang of wine, which he’d seldom tasted.

“What’s happening? Who’s chasing you and why?”

“Kurt Hummel.”

Mind racing, Kurt hesitated out of sheer habit, and began.

“I came back from school to spend winter break at my home.” He said sadly, thinking of how worried his father must be at this point. He’d certainly broken curfew by now, and if Dave wouldn’t kill him, Burt would.

If Kurt could stand to tell him the truth. Burt might have another coronary then and there.

“It was snowing outside and so beautiful…it’s been a few years since I had a white Christmas, so I thought I’d go out for a walk on the nature trail a few miles away.” Several miles away by now. He would’ve frozen to death had Dave not got him, had Adam not saved him. Another rush of gratitude. “It got darker faster than I expected.” He closed his eyes, remembering the scene vividly as he’d headed towards his car. “I needed my phone to light my way back to the parking lot.” His fingers tightened in the sofa again. “But there was no one else there, no one but s-someone waiting for me.”

Kurt had to take a few deep breaths, and Adam put a consoling hand on his arm. Smiling wanly at him, Kurt went on:

“His name is Dave Karofsky.” The name felt like something acidic. “It’s because of him I had to change schools, he was—he—“Kurt fumbled. “In the parking lot, he asked me if I’d told anyone that he’d—“ He couldn’t say it. “And I said no. He said ‘Good,’ and then he drew a k-knife from his pocket. He said he was going to cut my tongue out for in-insurance. I ran because he was blocking my way to my car.”

Adam leaned close and Kurt felt like something contaminated. But Adam slipped a finger under his chin and made him look up. “Why was he hurting you?” He said, so gently it made Kurt want to cry again. “If you don’t mind my asking?”

This was dangerous, because Adam might throw him from the house any second, but he owed Adam the truth.

“Because I’m gay.” Kurt bit the inside of his mouth as Adam stared at him. “And I was out at school, and he wouldn’t let up on the bullying, until I confronted him.” He shook his head, so weary he could scarcely hold it up. “I confronted him, and he wound up k-kissing me.” He shrank from the memory, but it followed him. “I didn’t want it, I pushed him away, but he said he’d kill me if I told anyone.” A tear slipped down his face, and Adam thumbed it away, still watching him acutely.

“I didn’t. And I didn’t tell my dad…all of the truth, I couldn’t, he has a bad heart, but he tried to get Karofsky expelled. And failed. The school board took his side. So I just changed schools. Like I said, I came home for the holiday.” A lump rose to his throat again, threatening to burst. “And—“

Adam pulled him into a hug, a tight one, and Kurt squeezed back just as hard, burying his face against the other’s boy shoulder as Adam whispered to him. Kurt was too far away to understand much of it, other than that it was kind, comforting, and beautiful.

Adam pulled back, eyes overbright and with a tremulous smile of his own.

“You know,” He turned to look at the flames, expression inscrutable. “I’ve never met someone whom just…came out and said that before.” He gazed at Kurt again, expression wistful. “Certainly it’s not something I’ve managed yet.”

Kurt frowned, confused. “Come out and—“ His eyes widened. “You…”

Adam nodded, exhaled in a short puff. “Yes. Though I’ve never told my parents. It—“ Now it was Adam’s turn to struggle. “You already know, I’m certain, how hard it is.”

“…you can’t tell them? At all?”

“I never could. Not if I wanted to stay in this house.”

Kurt’s heart broke not for the first time tonight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Adam hesitated, and then slowly took Kurt’s cold hand in his own, squeezing it. Kurt squeezed back, feeling the tips of his ears burning. “Do you know for sure?” he couldn’t help but ask anxiously. Adam looked down at his lap. “That they wouldn’t…accept…”

“One hundred and ten percent,” Adam said offhandedly, though there was a slight tremor at the end. “My parents have made it perfectly clear to me what they think of homosexuals.”  

“What’s that?”

“That they should be gassed.”

Profoundly disturbed, Kurt allowed his head to fall against Adam’s arm—under any other circumstance he would not be so forthwith coming, but he was so vulnerable at the moment he couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry again.”

“You really don’t need to apologize so much, dear.”  

“Are they…are they here tonight?”

Adam looked at the flames writhing again, back at Kurt’s head pressed against his arm. “No. For better or for worse, it’s just you and I. They’re away…quite often.” He snorted near-inaudibly. “And I’m afraid they took the car with them.”

“When will they be back?” Kurt asked hesitantly. “And do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Something in Adam’s eyes flickered. “No siblings. My parents are actually out of the country right now.” Adam grinned weakly. “They’re on their own winter holiday, and I’m on mine. It’s peaceful enough here and I can do all the reading I like, but it’s felt like a very, very, very long holiday, mind you.”

“…I’m…”

Adam poked Kurt playfully on the nose. “I’m going to start charging you money every time you say that. I have enough food to last us through a nuclear holocaust and life in a post-apocalyptic society.”

That wasn’t very reassuring to Kurt. The sentiment must’ve registered on his face, because Adam added, “Even if they were on their way home as we speak, they certainly couldn’t get very far with all this snow. You were right; I’ve not seen so much in years.”  

Suddenly Kurt remembered his own situation, and felt remarkably stupid for having briefly forgotten it. But he’d been so excited to meet another (sane) queer person, and had felt genuine pain for Adam’s situation.  “Do you have a phone? I need…”

He was faced with the awful truth; Karofsky couldn’t be allowed to threaten anyone else. “I need to call the police. Or at the very least my dad, and let him know I’m okay.”

Adam’s face fell a little at that.

“I’m afraid…we do not. Have a telephone, I mean.”

Kurt’s mind wiped itself clean with a blinding-white panic.

“How do you…” he began, and the concept was so utterly alien to him he didn’t know what to say. “Your parents left you here alone without a phone? Not even a cell phone?”

“…I don’t have a cell phone. We did have a phone once, but it was disconnected. And no one ever really bothered to replace it.”

“But you have wii-fi,” Kurt heard himself say feebly. “And I can still send a message to the authorities via email—“

“I’m afraid not. I don’t have any of these things.”

This was so utterly unbelievable and ghastly Kurt didn’t want to believe him, but as Adam steadily held his gaze and looked so genuinely apologetic, he understood with no small amount of dread that Adam was telling the truth. He inhaled a sharp breath, which didn’t seem to reach his lungs…

“Kurt? Kurt, breathe.”

Adam put a steadying hand on Kurt’s back as the smaller boy’s chest started rapidly heaving up and down, spots looming in front of his vision. “Look at me.”

Horrified, he just barely managed to obey, and Adam shushed him. “Hold your breath. Hold—I know, I know, it’s hard, but it will be alright, hold, that’s good, hold, and slowly release. Very good. Another. And again. Remember, slowly. And a bit deeper than that, from your diaphragm. That’s good. You’ve done a fantastic job tonight, Kurt. Call it intuition, but I suspect anyone else in your situation would be dead by now. There we go. Have a bit more wine.”

Shakily Kurt obeyed again, profoundly relieved that someone else was more or less in charge for a change because he was on the verge of falling to pieces. Breathing unevenly, he took a small sip of wine, and then another, savoring the warm bloom in the pit of his stomach. “There really isn’t…you really don’t have wi-fi at all?”  

Adam hesitated again, and then drew a wet strand of Kurt’s hair back. “No.”

“…any neighbors nearby whom do?”

“I’m afraid not, Kurt. This house was built by my granddad to be a summer home far, far away from his business partners at the logging firm he owned in Lima. Otherwise they were forever calling him for help and advice even when he was on holiday…I think that’s why my gran disconnected the phone to begin with. No one else has bothered building out here, and believe you me, I’ve searched.”

He got up and went to look out the window. Kurt wobbled as he stood again in alarm.

“What are you doing? Close them! He might see you!”

“Not in this snow, he won’t,” retorted Adam as he pulled back the curtain a bit more so that Kurt could see. The younger gawked, and wondered faintly if what he saw now was proof of the existence of a all-powerful, omniscient deity. Although whether or not said deity loved or hated him tonight remained yet to be seen.

Enormous, fat snowflakes, the kind that looked like they belonged in a snow globe, were tumbling from the heavens in torrents so quickly it looked like a white, sparkling blur at times. The wind was rising, whistling, and while Kurt’s spirits lifted slightly with the knowledge that an incoming blizzard might deter Karofsky from pursuing him, it would also strand Kurt here.

For whom knew how long.

He swayed. He was in the middle of the wilderness, with no phone, no internet, no neighbors, his car miles away and concealed near a forest no one was likely to visit anytime soon. Not in this weather. Only Adam’s soothing admonitions that he remember to breathe kept him from another full-scale panic attack. How many could he have in one night?

He closed his eyes, the full implications washing over him. He hadn’t told anyone where he had gone this evening. Karofsky certainly wouldn’t divulge that Kurt was missing because he’d tried to slash him open. His mind raced with panic; Burt’s heart would give out. And what would Finn and Carol do, if their brother and stepson never came home? Finn would call the Glee cavalry, that was certain, but again, Kurt had told no one he was, and certainly no one knew he was a tremendous distance away now. Even he didn’t know where he was.  

And his swans…they’d been at the mall together just a few hours ago, laughing and catching up in the food court, tossing fries and blowing straw wrappers at each other. All they’d know was that he’d vanished off the face of the earth. Possibly for days, if what the morning’s forecast said was true.

It was a selfish thought, Kurt knew, but would Blaine even care that he was gone? He didn’t want to answer that one.

“Where’s my coat? I should go, while I have the chance.” he said faintly, opening his eyes again. “I…I have to make my way back, before it gets too bad…follow the tracks I left before they disappear tonight”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Adam said at once, letting the curtain fall again. “And sit back down, Kurt, you can barely stand.”

“I managed before.”

“Barely! It’s a wonder you escaped at all from that menace!”

“…do you have a snowblower? I’d accept a dog sled team at this point.”

Adam’s eyes told him before he’d finished speaking that it was hopeless. “It’s already looking terrible out, and I’m not about to let you go into a storm, hurt and with a maniac out for your blood.” Adam gave him a pitying look, but shook his head in a firm no. “I’m sorry, Kurt.”

Kurt knew Adam was right, but that didn’t stop him from nearly toppling to his ground like some stupid Victorian woman with the vapors and why did he feel so effing fragile tonight when he’d made it a point for so long to be strong? Even when he’d been physically sick in the mornings with fear over going to school, he’d hid it. Now he couldn’t stop feeling as weak as if there’d never be anything again.

The back of his knees hit the couch and he fell back upon it, burying his face in his hands. It didn’t seem like such a bad trade-off for not being killed, but snowbound. He was snowbound, for goodness knew how long. Christmas was in three days, and this was the first one he would spend with a brother. Would’ve. His mind swiftly attacked the thought.

It was very possible that he wouldn’t survive in any case. Not if Dave found them…

A second later Adam was standing in front of him again, thumbing away the fresh wave of tears. “Whatever it might mean from someone you’ve never met—I won’t allow him in, and I certainly won’t let him harm you.”

Adam pulled him into an embrace and allowed Kurt to cry heartily into his shoulder.

“Unfinished Lyrics” (Suga x Reader)

“can i have a suga scenario where you two meet & become friends instandly. Late he finds out that you’re 17 but you both dont care bc he likes you so much. I’m sorry if this is to much to ask for but could you also make it interview style? like the boys are at an interview and the interviewer come up with pics of you both and asks him about you & he starts telling the story of how you met & what a good friend you are to him? thanks♥ i am a huge fan of you and your writing hehe :)” 


I wrote them as a couple not as good friends, so I hope that’s okay! <3

Name: “Unfinished Lyrics”

Character: Suga // Min Yoongi (BTS)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,670

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

(gif credit to the original owner)

The rapper finally went quiet as he saw the picture. “Ah, who’s this lucky lady?” the interviewer asked. In his hands were pictures of the two of you. You were hand in hand, both masked as you walked through the streets of Seoul. The interviewer looked expectantly at him, his animated expression brimming with curiosity. For once in his life, Yoongi was entirely tongue-tied. “That’s uh-” he began to stutter. His hazelnut gaze was fixated on the photographs before him. Seeing you brought a slight smirk to his face. “The fans must be heartbroken,” he added. “So, who is she?” Management behind the camera wore frantic looks on their faces as they saw the rapper’s lack of response. It seemed as one of the people was about to step in to skip the question but was halted by Yoongi clearing his throat. “That’s (Y/N),” he answered. His voice had deepened and his words were slow. Despite this, he wasn’t mumbling like he sometimes did; he was clear. The interviewer’s eyes widened. All day, Yoongi had been nervous for that interview. The guys weren’t with him and he almost felt a little lost without them. Yet, the mentioning of you eased him a little. “She’s my girlfriend,” he added. The interviewer reacted, forming an ‘o’ shape with his lips.
“She’s very pretty!” he remarked. A wide smile formed through his surprise.
“Isn’t she?” Yoongi replied. A glint in his eyes appeared. Thinking of you completely lifted his spirits. “Aw, our young idol is in love,” he added in the standard jovial, interview style. “How’d you two meet?” he asked sincerely. He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts.
“Well, we’d actually been friends for a while,” he began. “I don’t know whether you could call it love at first sight, but there was something about her.”

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Endearment

“I really hope I don’t regret this later,” Shepard said as she paced quickly at the rear of the cockpit.

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” Joker was concentrating on getting the Normandy out and away from the Citadel as quickly as possible, but that didn’t mean he’d let the chance for a wisecrack pass him by.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get us out of here, Joker.” The commander’s eyes darted from display to display, anxious to know whether they were going to be followed, stopped, or shot down from Citadel space. It wasn’t every day that a ship was stolen from being grounded in the very hub of the galaxy’s civilization, after all. If they managed to pull this off, it was going to be a miracle that would likely have trickle-down effects that would come back to bite her soon.

“So far, no one’s caught on to the fact that we just took off without authorization,” the helmsman responded, his focus moving smoothly from screen to screen as he made lightning-fast adjustments with practiced grace and fluidity. It was truly an impressive feat and he handled it like second nature.

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help me raise £20,000 for Dashcon UK. i swear our ball pit will be better and i’ll get my friend who can draw stuff to do a Q&A session and this guy i know who can sort of play guitar will do some covers of songs featured on Glee