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@brokenxharmonies
You can now follow my Rachel Berry muse over here! I've thought about it for a while, and I'm realizing now how hard it is to run an multimuse indie with canon character, so I've moved Rachel over here. All threads will be continued on this blog, so don't be alarmed if I reblog something to reply. So here you go!
{ s t a r c a n o n }
Rachel Berry emails Quinn Fabray at the same time, on the same day every single week like clockwork.
[ little update: I think I've finally decided that Rachel is getting her own account, and this account will be going under a bit of a revamp to accomodate my newest muse! And then I'll stop adding them, I promise. ]
In the past, she wouldn’t have been so open about this sort of topic; she would’ve gone through heights to deny and ignore claims made in her direction. Then again, it had been Santana who had nicknamed her ‘Fabgay’ in high school, had been the first to comment on her repressed sexuality. But now, she was comfortable in her own skin, not worried about any sort of labels, or anything that would define her as a person. Her perspective on almost everything in life had changed drastically. Accusations and claims about her sleeping with women didn’t bother her — not anymore, and she was perfectly capable finding humor in the whole situation, especially in the way Rachel looked flushed and embarrassed. They did say Karma only came back to bite you.
She can only chuckle, cross one leg over the other and raise her signature eyebrow. “Well, you asked first. I didn’t bring the topic up, considering we’ve told no one; at least that’s what she told me. But we all know Santana and I weren’t the only ones who hooked up that night”. The eyebrow doesn’t falter and there is a twinge of playfulness behind her words, even if she never understood what went down between Rachel, Brody, and Finn.
“Its cliche, really”. She begins, rolling her eyes and setting her book aside; there’s an empty chair next to her she glances at, hoping Rachel would catch her hint. She felt as if she was putting her on the spot with her scrutinizing gaze. “We drank a lot of wine; Mr. Schuester or Ms. Pillsbury weren’t there to really, control the situation per se, and Santana was really depressed about Brittany dating Sam and their gross displays of affection, so I told her to focus on something that wasn’t her ex-girlfriend. I stood by her the whole night and danced with her, and we flirted and next thing I know she’s leading me to the hotel room by the hand…” Both her eyebrows raise this time and she shrugs nonchalantly.
There had been many times in her life when she wished the ground would split down the middle and swallow her whole, but nothing seemed to compare to this. It isn't exactly a topic that would be commonly brought up between two people that went to high school together, much less between two people that seemed to sit on the constant line or "are we friends or are we not friends?" Still, as uncomfortable as the conversation she's gotten herself into is, Rachel crosses her arms over her chest and remains planted firmly where she is, an awkward cross between a smile and a grimance perched on her lips. This was the first and last time she'd ever inquire about someone else's sexual encounters -- how did people talk about these things so freely?
When Quinn brings up the fact that she and Santana weren't the only two to hook up that night, Rachel is certain that this is punishment enough for even asking in the first place. Even if Quinn was merely teasing the thought, she didn't like being reminded of sinking to the lows that she had when Finn and Brody were concerned at the same time. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Quinn. I'm certain that there were multiple encounters that evening, none of which I'm particularly interested in given the fact that I deeply regret asking the question I asked in the first place. Furthermore, if you're implying something happened between myself and Finn, you're wrong. Nothing happened." She'd always been able to spin a relatively good lie, and she hopes Quinn won't be able to see through it.
The moment the blonde speaks again, she knows there isn't any getting out of this. Quinn glances at the chair and Rachel's head drops as she crossed the room, eyeing it cautiously for a moment before sitting down. The story piques her interest, given that she hadn't really concerned herself with the matters of Brittany and Sam's relationship. She'd always found it strange, of course, that one could go from dating someone as fiery as Santana to dating someone as... well, not as Sam seemed to be. However, it wasn't as though it mattered much. The last she'd heard, Sam and Brittany had broken up and Sam hadn't mentioned any reconciliation with Brittany when he was in the city last with Blaine. "Please, Quinn, you can stop. I don't need to know the details of your encounter with Santana given that it wasn't my place to ask such a question in the first place. You know, I tend to speak long before I think. The question was inappropriate and came from a place of mere curiosity rather than a place of malice. I'm sorry -- I shouldn't have asked."
what if rachel became her own independent account
”Well you may not notice it but I’m bored too. Hence why I got my phone out in the first place, dumbass.”
He thinks it’s pretty obvious. His eyebrows sassing her in the way both got up quickly encouraged by the judgement filling his freezing blue orbs. He just wishes he could do one damn thing without having her jealous ass breathing down his neck. But then again, he got so used to it that he only swipes it away with one or two comments before going on with whatever they were doing previously. Usually, it would be sex but it looked like she wanted to do something different this time around.
”Well if you were doing it— And I don’t know if you’re aware but we’re not exactly normal people but I guess we could do something. What are you in the mood for?”
"Has anyone told you that you're kind of a giant dick? And no, I didn't say that you have a giant dick -- don't make me laugh."
Their banter is typical, a constant back and forth battle of two equally witty and sassy minds. If Haven were to be honest, she'd say that it's almost becoming foreplay to them, seeing who can make the other cave first. Her eyebrow arches upwards in her typical fashion, lips staying set in a hard line; it's a look she often wears around him, a look of judgement and slight amusement dancing behind her eyes. Afternoons like this were often filled with sex in varying locations around the apartment, but with Mother Nature ruining her plans for the day, she wants to do something different. Maybe if she's lucky, he'll take her out for lunch.
"Correction: you're not a normal person. You're a dog. And as for doing something, I'm hungry."
how do we all feel about this little cutie becoming my final muse because wow so cute
~adds a sailor moon muse
how long do you think i can stay off my allison account until i cave and i inevitably return
MAR 3 - Lea Michele promotes ‘Louder’ at Westfield Garden State Plaza Mall
”if you ever want to have meaningless sex with some girl;
— i know some people.”
"Oh really?
I'm listening."
Its hard to pretend to be angry at something she’s undoubtedly not angry about when Rachel is making such an effort to be nice. While her attitude had mellowed down before the title they lost last year, she couldn’t let her guard down now, when she was already on the way to be back on top of the social food chain. She heard the comments, naturally, as she trotted down the hallways with freshmen cheer leaders in tow — ‘dude she looks so hot’ — ‘didn’t she have a baby?’ — ‘who cares? Quinn’s smoking’.
And somehow, it wasn’t as fulfilling as she thought it’d be. Instead, she found herself running away from the whispers and most importantly, Santana’s rage. She would give her a few hours to calm down before she talked to her without any hair pulling (literally), and made sure she knew there was no malice behind her actions. It was just the way things worked between them and the Cheerios was the last resource Quinn had to finally feel good about herself, something she didn’t find fulfilling with Glee Club — not now, not after what happened before the school year ended.
Quinn’s lips purse in slight disdain, pondering whether she should be honest about the way she felt or leave things hanging. Rachel wasn’t her friend — couldn’t be anyway. “I’m fine, Rachel. Santana is a chihuahua who thinks is a Pitbull. I got detention but Sue took care of it. Is that all?”
Her hands are still clapsed as she walks across the room, separating only when she reaches the piano. She could have easily picked the spot next to Quinn, reached out to touch her arm lightly in what she hoped would be a comforting gesture. Instead, she takes a seat on the piano bench, fingers resting on the keys though they don't make a sound. For a moment, she wonders why she's still here. It's rather obvious that her company was more of a burden than it was enjoyable, and they aren't exactly what most would consider friends. Still, Rachel isn't the type to back down without making at least some sort of effort. Even if Quinn shot her down, she'd feel better knowing that she at least offered some sort of support to the blonde.
She lets out a soft sigh, turning her head to glance across the room. "I don't think you're a bad person, you know." The statement itself is blunt but truthful, a small smile tugging at the very corners of her lips. "I know that there were a few comments made earlier in this room calling your loyalties into question, and even you thought that I was coming to scold you about your decision to return to your position as head cheerio. You even felt the need to tell me up front that you had no plans of sabotaging the glee club, which while it does ease my mind a bit to know that your loyalties can lie in two places, makes me want to assure you that I don't think that little of you. You've had multiple chances to sabotage this club, and I'm sure you'll have many more but I don't think you'll take them. I don't think that you accepted your position with any ill will towards the glee club in mind either. To think that you did would be ridiculous and petty, both of which I have been known to be but that isn't the point. The point is that I think you wanted your position back and that's okay. If I was in that position..."
Her voice trails off as she returns her gaze back to the keys. She wasn't in that position, and she can't imagine what it would be like if she was. While some thought that popularity was some metaphorical walk in the park, she had a sinking feeling that it was anything but. There's a beat of silence before Rachel stands again, hands smoothing over her skirt. "Now that I've had a chance to say that, yes, that is all. I'm glad to hear that you're okay, Quinn, and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day."
[ She’s not really paying attention to the background music, instead she’s focusing on the book she has in front of her — its Ernest Hemingway. She hates Ernest Hemingway, hates the misogyny presented in his work and transferred into prose, and yet, she’s forced to read through it for her AP Literature class. Earlier, she had slipped on her Cheerios uniform, walked down the hallways with her hands on her hips, fought with Santana and got a detention that Sue abolished as soon as she informed her of the slip Mr. Schue had given her. At least the choir room was quiet — no one really came through at this hour.
Quinn’s eyes flicker momentarily, when she hears the choir room door open — she recognizes the shoes and the skirt almost instantly, but makes no effort to look up at her, making a note on the side of the page as an annotation. ]
A sigh. “Are you here to scold me for taking the head cheerio position again? I’m not going to try and sabotage your precious Glee Club, if that is your sole concern”.
[ It isn't something she can explain, nor is it something she feels she needs to. Kurt had asked her once, briefly before she shut the entire conversation down, why she cared so much. Finn had made a point to remind her that she shouldn't, because it wasn't as though she owed her anything. Even she herself had questioned why she spent so much time thinking about her, wondering if she was okay when she wasn't obligated to do so. Then again, it isn't as if she can help it. Even when they were at each others' throats, there was something about Quinn that made Rachel care.
She's as quiet as possible as she enters the room, head down with her hands clasped in front of her. It isn't her place to be concerned, but after hearing what had happened from both Finn and Noah -- both thought it was "awesome" and "totally sick" -- it only felt right to express her concern. Rachel looks up when Quinn speaks, eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion. ]
"While I will admit that I am slightly surprised that you've taken the position as head cheerio again, I don't believe you're trying to sabotage the glee club. You wouldn't do that, even if some people are quick to believe that you would. I was actually coming to find you because I wanted to know if you were okay. Finn told me what occurred with Santana earlier." Her voice is soft, shoulders shrugging as she speaks. "I guess you could say that I'm concerned."
{ Maybe this was all a mistake. Who was she kidding? It’s been too many long years since her last interaction with the brunette. What if all that self-control throughout high school was gone now? Well, she’d managed to have controlled herself pretty well at the concert, but Rachel was accompanied by Kurt at the time, and his presence was good enough for her to keep herself together. Tonight? It’ll be just her, Rachel, and the open space between them — a space that was just dying to be closed for her to move in and kiss her.
Wait, what?
No. No, she couldn’t do this. She should turn back now while she can. Run while she could. Quinn could just text her she had better things to do, act like the complete bitch she was again and go back to the way it’s supposed to be between them - with Rachel hating her and Quinn acting like she didn’t care. It was better that way. Right? Yes. No.Yes! No! Oh, what the hell would her inner conscious know about it? She had to think fast. She had to—
Crap. }
”R-Rachel!” She squeaked out once the door slid open, only to reveal the beautiful brunette she had fallen in love with over the years. Oh, sure, sing a bunch of lyrics perfectly on stage and you can’t even manage to say her name without choking on your own spit. Big applause for Quinn Fabray! A blush crept upon her cheeks at Rachel’s compliment, simply nodding her head in understanding before stepping inside. “I don’t mind at all.”
She turned away from her to act as if she was examining her loft, but the blonde had closed her eyes and taken a deep breath. Quinn has done this a million times, she could act normal around her. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she took one more breath and squared her shoulders before turning around and facing Rachel. It was then that she took a good look at her, her gaze roaming down her outfit before quickly meeting her eyes again. Very subtle. “You look lovely,” she spoke softly, a small smile plastered on her lips.
She canted her head to the side before glancing at her outfit again, brows furrowed together in curiosity. If she didn’t notice the previous night, she definitely noticed now. Her wardrobe has incredibly changed, and that didn’t make it any easier for Quinn. She cleared her throat, finally turning her attention away from Rachel’s clothes. “Makeover?” She asked curiously.
[ If you had asked her during her sophomore year if she ever thought she would be friends with Quinn Fabray, the answer would have been a resounding no. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to back then -- even all those years ago, she'd found herself thinking of Quinn more than she probably should have -- but rather that their social standings and interpersonal relationship had prevented even attempting to mend a bridge. Quinn had been popular, captain of the Cheerios, desired by the male half of the population and envied by the females. Rachel had been gawky and awkward, loud and overbearing. Her determination and focus on the future had made forming friendships with kids her own age nearly impossible.
It'd taken that day on the bench in the hallway for her to realize that Quinn actually had a heart three sizes too big, that the girl who had presented such an icy exterior to the world was searching for herself just as everyone else was. Perhaps that was the day that she realized just how special Quinn was. From that day forward, she'd tried her best to reach out and offer her friendship. There wasn't much else she could do, not much else she could offer but it was something. It was something to bridge the gap that had separated them. And sure, they'd slipped up a few times, fought over boys that Rachel really wasn't interested in, disagreed on subjects that left them both pursing their lips. However, for the most part, their friendship stayed strong even through the rocky times.
Flash forward to now. Years of not seeing each other, years of wondering if Quinn had ever thought about her what she had thought about the blonde. Years of tears of frustration and anger at not being able to express what she felt, years of regret for never keeping in touch after she turned her back on the town that had shaped who she was. All of it came to the surface like a tidal wave, forcing her to look the feeling that she'd once felt -- and admittedly still felt -- right in the eye. Literally. ]
"Wonderful! I know that he wanted to see you and I'm sure he'll have a chance now that we've all found each other, but I know how excited he was to be able to go out with his friends tonight." She has a habit of rambling when she's nervous, stumbling over words as she tries to string them together to mask what she's feeling. However, when Quinn comments on her appearance, her cheeks go pink and the smile that spreads across her lips is going to be incredibly hard to explain away.
There's silence for a moment before she mentally kicks herself as a reminder to acknowledge the compliment with something more than just the Berry mega-watt smile. "Oh! Thank you, Quinn. And yes, I did go under a bit of a makeover upon my arrival in the city. Kurt and Santana decided that perhaps I could translate my personal sense of style into something more suitable for a young adult. I will admit that while it was daunting at first, I've grown into the wardrobe Kurt helped me pick out." She glanced down at her outfit, nodding slightly as she ushered the other girl inside before closing the door behind them.
She cleared her throat, shifting her weight as she tried to think of a way to fill the silence. "So... you were... you were incredible at that performance, Quinn. I wanted to tell you that night after the show, but I got so caught up in seeing you again and catching up that it completely slipped my mind to say so. So, from one performer to another, you were absolutely amazing."
{ s t a r c a n o n }
Rachel is either extremely flirty and sexual, or she's embarrassed by all things sex. There is no in between.
Of course Rachel would be the first to confront her about this, even if she believed there was nothing to confront. The situation had been a minor drunken hookup, and while she knew how much attention two women having sex drew to the general public, she wondered how Rachel had finally come to that conclusion without anyone revealing the information to her. Then again, she wasn’t surprised that information of this sort spread so quickly and reached the wrong ears — at least with Rachel she had the certainty she wasn’t going to be judged, mocked, or humored. Even if she didn’t care, because sleeping with Santana wasn’t something she regretted (quite the contrary, in this case).
Quinn crosses her legs and closes the cover of her book, lips pursed as she gives Rachel the most unamused expression she can muster. When people told her to come back to Lima for some pointless event Mr. Schuester was again, putting together, she never thought she would find herself talking about her sex life with Rachel Berry.
And yet, there’s a part of her that desires to humor her, follow the conversation in a manner that would perhaps confuse her, and leave Rachel wondering about what really went down at the wedding. She was right though; the right conclusion had been drawn. However, it didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun with the subject — finding humor in the situation was perhaps, a better way to react than deny something she wasn’t sure she wanted to deny in the first place. At least Santana got bragging rights.
"Fine, you’re right. I had sex with Santana”. A smirk appears on her features. “Why do you ask? Do you want details?”
"D-Details?"
It comes out as a squeak, shock contorting her features once more as she scrambles for something to say that won't make her sound like an uninformed dunce. She didn't need details; she, like nearly ever other sexual being on the planet, had indulged in a bit of adult filmography in her downtime. She was more than well aware of how encounters of that kind worked, and she certainly didn't need Quinn rehashing details of a situation that had already interested her much more than it should have. After all, despite her curiosity, she wasn't supposed to be thinking of Quinn or Santana in that matter.
To say that she had become a deer in headlights would be a bit of understatement, mind racing to catch up as she opened her mouth to speak before snapping it shut. When she'd first thought about asking Quinn -- or rather telling her -- about her escapades with Santana, she hadn't expected the one to end up completely embarrassed. However, at the end of the day, Rachel was still Rachel, and sex? Not exactly something she was completely comfortable discussing. Granted, she's secure in her sexuality and sexual being, but she's still the girl that wouldn't let Brody turn the lights on the last time she'd actually had sex. Embarrassed? More than anyone knew.
"No, I don't want details! I was... well, I was... I was just curious! It isn't a secret that I have always been a rather curious individual and I was merely curious about what happened at the wedding, that's all."
”Just give me a second would you?”
Why was it so fucking hard to get a two minutes moment with technology when she was around. It wasn’t like he wasn’t listening. Okay, he wasn’t looking and giving her his whole attention. But she had more than half of it and that was a good start wasn’t it? It was in a sigh that he stopped himself from achieving his high score at Flappy Bird. Only good thing about her scene, it kept him from breaking his already damaged phone.
”I wish. Only stupid bird that can’t fucking fly right. I’m all yours now.”
"I'm bored and I want to go do something. Excuse me for not wanting to sit around all day."
How could one person find that dumb app so entertaining? Perhaps it was because she could barely manage to get past her high score of eight before she was groaning in frustration. She rolls her eyes at his exasperated tone, biting back a comment about how she's sure Allison's desperate enough to send the pictures she previously mentioned. Instead, she uncrosses her arms and runs a hand through her hair, lips pursed.
"You wish? Classy, Lahey. Now, as I was saying before you got so into that stupid game, we should go out today. You know, like normal people."
