I'm not going to lie, the Inception fandom is pretty much a dream come true, for me. I don't know how or why. It's MAGICAL. It's like... everything I could want, it just appears! Having two fandoms is totally doable! And, and it gives you a place to turn when one of them is frustrating you! I... actually have a lot of fandoms. My friends say their fandom is like their boyfriend, and I'm out there slutting it up with whatever fandom looks attractive. But whatever, I always have fic to read.
Glee really does need to mature. And I'm sort of waiting for a big wank to start, because I think that's the only way a lot of them will learn what they're doing wrong? Warnings! WARNINGS ARE YOU FRIENDS. Also, stop turning Kurt into a Mary Sue, dammit. But I realize it's just that most of the people in that fandom haven't been IN a fandom long enough to learn the ropes of proper do's and don't's.
I am giving out recipes in the fic? LOL I'm TOTALLY RESEARCHING, okay. Every food thing mentioned actually exists, and I am helpfully linking to them, because lord knows I could never successfully make a quarter of them. lol It's not that I can't cook, it's that I get bored halfway through and go to check my f-list and forget I have something in the oven. /o\
But thank you! LOL I'm really just showing you the parts I don't hate as much as the rest though. It's... UGH. I don't even know.
Um. I have Kurt chewing on a pen?
Mondays are the days when Kurt lets himself have a treat. And Puck get to be the one to pick it out, always trying to out-do himself. Puck spends more time planning on what he'll make Kurt than he does the specials for the rest of the week.
Kurt rolls in around five, with gallon-sized thermoses of his prissy gourmet specialty coffee for each of them, and a garment bag slung over his shoulder with his outfit of the day. He's wearing knee-high boots, old men's soft, light blue cotton pajamas, a knit cap, three scarves, and an oversized red coat. He still has the faint traces of lines from creases in his pillow on his cheek, and the buttons on his shirt are pearly white and gigantic.
He almost faceplants on the counter next to where Puck is standing, and Puck laughs, flicks the back of his neck softly, and hands him a plate. This week, he's gone with chocolate and raspberry filled crepes. Kurt hums happily around his first bite, and licks the tines of his fork clean before he passes Puck his coffee. The coffee is bliss, the way it is every week, no milk and the perfect amount of sugar.
They sit in the near dark and eat breakfast, drinking their coffee out of personalized mugs that Brittany and Beth had painted for them one afternoon when business was slow and Shelby was in the mood for something sweet. They don't talk about work, because once their plates are clean that'll be their entire lives for the next five and a half days. The only sound in the place is the radio playing songs they used to sing and the ovens humming along.
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Glee really does need to mature. And I'm sort of waiting for a big wank to start, because I think that's the only way a lot of them will learn what they're doing wrong? Warnings! WARNINGS ARE YOU FRIENDS. Also, stop turning Kurt into a Mary Sue, dammit. But I realize it's just that most of the people in that fandom haven't been IN a fandom long enough to learn the ropes of proper do's and don't's.
I am giving out recipes in the fic? LOL I'm TOTALLY RESEARCHING, okay. Every food thing mentioned actually exists, and I am helpfully linking to them, because lord knows I could never successfully make a quarter of them. lol It's not that I can't cook, it's that I get bored halfway through and go to check my f-list and forget I have something in the oven. /o\
But thank you! LOL I'm really just showing you the parts I don't hate as much as the rest though. It's... UGH. I don't even know.
Um. I have Kurt chewing on a pen?
Mondays are the days when Kurt lets himself have a treat. And Puck get to be the one to pick it out, always trying to out-do himself. Puck spends more time planning on what he'll make Kurt than he does the specials for the rest of the week.
Kurt rolls in around five, with gallon-sized thermoses of his prissy gourmet specialty coffee for each of them, and a garment bag slung over his shoulder with his outfit of the day. He's wearing knee-high boots, old men's soft, light blue cotton pajamas, a knit cap, three scarves, and an oversized red coat. He still has the faint traces of lines from creases in his pillow on his cheek, and the buttons on his shirt are pearly white and gigantic.
He almost faceplants on the counter next to where Puck is standing, and Puck laughs, flicks the back of his neck softly, and hands him a plate. This week, he's gone with chocolate and raspberry filled crepes. Kurt hums happily around his first bite, and licks the tines of his fork clean before he passes Puck his coffee. The coffee is bliss, the way it is every week, no milk and the perfect amount of sugar.
They sit in the near dark and eat breakfast, drinking their coffee out of personalized mugs that Brittany and Beth had painted for them one afternoon when business was slow and Shelby was in the mood for something sweet. They don't talk about work, because once their plates are clean that'll be their entire lives for the next five and a half days. The only sound in the place is the radio playing songs they used to sing and the ovens humming along.