XOXO, Kurly

For DHKY, Drabbles, One-shots, Author Updates and everything in between!

[kurlyq722]

Fanfic: Does He Know You? Ch 50, Glee | FanFiction

Fanfic: Does He Know You? Ch 51, Glee | FanFiction

Two chapters in five years. Thoughts and prayers are appreciated. Also, applause. It’s been rough and I need validation. 😓

[kurlyq722]

To the anonymous guest that wrote this review,

THANK YOU.

I didn’t want to give you false hope by updating my fic with a thank you post, but I needed to express my appreciation. It’s been a hard year. Hell, it’s been a hard two years. Writing has been on my mind, but the furthest priority. Thank you for reminding me that you’re still with me. Thank you for reading and expressing your love for my writing.

Thank you for being so inspiring. I’m writing as we speak. What would I do without kind people like you?

[kurlyq722]

To date, this is still, HANDS DOWN, the funniest scene I’ve written. Idiot!Sam in full effect from Chapter 47.....

"This isn't the way I wanted to tell you, but...Merry Christmas?" Mercedes awkwardly joked, not knowing what else to say. Welcoming any distraction, she turned and quickly attended to Sam when he began to forcefully clear and scratch his throat.

"Baby? Baby, are you okay?"

"My throat feels tight. And itchy." Sam remarked, growing redder by the second.

"Oh, my goodness, sweetie. Are you okay?" asked Pat, on high alert when he began to wheeze.

"Oh (wheeze) man (wheeze) Mercy (wheeze)" Sam stood, pushing away his plate as he rubbed his throat. "I think (wheeze) the mashed (wheeze) potatoes (wheeze) have parsley (wheeze)."

Everyone else stood in alarm. Mercedes quickly dug through his mashed potatoes and found the green, fishing it out to inspect it. It was chopped too finely to tell, but Sam's reaction was enough of a warning. "Oh no, I think this is parsley."

"What, is he allergic or something?" Shane stupidly asked, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands except flap them around.

"Quick, Mercedes. Get his EpiPen." Joseph commanded, jumping up quickly to attend to Sam.

"Tell me where the EpiPen is, baby. You shouldn't be running anywhere in your condition." Pat moved toward the stairs, ready to run up and rummage through their suitcases.

"What's parsley? I never bought no parsley in my life!" Nettie remarked in fright, envisioning herself in handcuffs for killing a white boy with Christmas dinner.

"Did you use that spice blend stuff? The dried seasoning?" Nettie's dramatic gasp was enough of an answer.

"Mercedes, tell your mother where the EpiPen is!" Joseph demanded, squeezing Sam's jaw to keep it open and inspect his throat.

"Uh, in my purse, zippered pocket, beside my birth control pills." Mercedes instructed. Pat sprinted up the stairs.

"Birth control pills? Insurance money well spent." Joseph remarked dryly, fanning Sam. "Hang in there, boy. Help is coming."

"I'll dial 911." Shane added, finding his calm long enough to make a level headed decision. Nettie had disappeared into the kitchen, tossing spices haphazardly as she searched for the offending bottle of seasoning.

Pat came back in a flash, wielding the EpiPen. "Okay, I found it."

"Okay." Sam nodded, unbuckling his pants and pulling down his underwear. When his ass came into view, the men in the room immediately protested.

"Hey!"

"Woah! What the hell, boy!"

"Sam, what are you doing?" Mercedes fought to pull his pants back up.

"It has to go in my ass cheek, Mercy. It's the quickest way. I read it somewhere." Sam leaned over the table, raising his bare ass high in the air. Joe backed away with his hands up. Pat passed the pen to Mercedes as Shane spoke to 911 in the background.

"Quick, y'all. What's the address?" asked Shane, hand over receiver.

Everyone's mind drew a blank in the panic.

"Nettie?! What's your address?" Pat called out to the kitchen.

"I need to sterilize the area, right? Where are the alcohol swab thingies?" Mercedes asked, frantically searching the dining table for some reason.

"I'll run up and get it." Pat disappeared again, quicker than the last time.

"Stick it in!" Sam demanded, wiggling his ass toward Mercedes. His tongue seemed to swell by the second.

"I can't yet!" Mercedes swatted his ass in her panic. "I need alcohol!"

Shane snickered, "That's what she said." The couple shot him a scathing look. "Sorry."

"Aww, c'mon boy! You got your ding-a-ling all up in the yams!" Joe lamented; appetite effectively ruined.

"Nettie?" called Shane, "I need the address!" Pat came back with a handful of alcohol pads. She ripped one open with her teeth and handed it off to Mercedes.

She'd just began cleaning a spot on his left buttcheek, Sam continuing to wheeze and turn red below her hand, when Nettie reappeared with the jar of spice that started it all.

"Chives, goddamnit!" she proclaimed, holding the jar above her head like some kind of trophy. "I knew it! It's chives, not parsley! I just read it on the bottle."

Everything stopped. Shane slowly hung up the phone. Mercedes had just uncapped the EpiPen. Sam was squeezing the fleshiest part of his ass to help her aim. Joseph plopped in his chair, stunned. Pat slapped her forehead, muttering "Lord Jesus" under her breath as she went to the bathroom in the hall.

"I mooned this entire table over some chives?!" Mercedes copied her father, plopping in her own chair. She rested one hand on her belly, using the other to rub the stress out of her temples.

"Sam, did you have the allergic reaction before or after you saw the green stuff in your mashed potatoes?"

Sam blushed, holding up his pants by the belt loops. "After?"

The entire room groaned.

"I'll just...I'll see you later, Ms. Nettie. Ms. Pat. Mr. Jones." With a nod and an incredulous chuckle, Shane made his way out the door. He nary missed slipping on an icy patch along the walkway before shutting the door behind him.

"I'll help you pack up the food, Nettie." Pat offered on her return, picking up a dish at random before quickly making her way to the kitchen.

Nettie picked up her own dish, frowning in distaste at the sight of Sam.

"Just white and simple." she remarked, shaking her head as she followed Pat. "Pasty as hell and simple as a chicken with its head cut off."

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

[kurlyq722]

Sam fixes his mistakes, Santana and Tina make an appearance, and Nettie finally shares what's going on with her health. Pat keeps a secret of her own.

FINALLY! Please enjoy and PLEASE review. It’s a fascinating one, I promise.

[kurlyq722]

Idk why this chapter is taking forever to finish. It’s honestly so discouraging. But I’m trying. I’m writing and I’m trying.

[kurlyq722]

Excerpt: Does He Know You? Until Death (5 of 5)

A/N: A funny one, for your endless patience. I love you, my readers, and hope this makes you smile! Writing some more as we speak.......

For those that remember, the gossipy Henderson Sisters are back! They showed up after that AWFUL Shane proposal (remember that mess?!) and haven’t stopped spreading rumors from the back pew since. Enjoy!

Two hours later, a little less than halfway through service, Sam was startled awake by a slap to the back of the head. He shot up in his seat and quickly turned around, rubbing his sore scalp.  

Three pairs of judging eyes stared him down.  

“Boy, you wait until you get home to sleep, you hear me?” The eldest Henderson sister slapped his arm with her fan.  

“Ow!”  

“And keep that voice down! Service is going on.”  

“I heard that folk that fall asleep when hearing the word of God are mixed up in sin. That’s what makes them fall asleep. The devil in them.” The middle sister nodded, looking to the youngest for confirmation.  

“That’s only for communion, Sister Henderson. But if his sin isn’t the offense, that snoring certainly is.” The youngest Henderson pouted her lips at Sam, glaring down at him with her nose in the air. “Certainly not husband or father material. No, sir. Wouldn’t pass in my day.”  

Her elder sisters hummed and nodded in agreement, aggressively fanning themselves as their eyes scanned Sam. Sam moved quickly to straighten his clothes and hair, blushing furiously before he could open his mouth to apologize.  

“I’m so sorry, I meant no disrespect. You see, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Mercedes and I were—”  

“Boy, no one wants to hear about your illicit sexual exploits in the house of God!” The youngest sister chastised, slapping his other uninjured arm.  

“OW! What is with the slapping?!” Sam cried out, catching the attention of several pews ahead of him. “I wasn’t talking about—that. I meant that we had a fight and—”

A violent rumbling from his back pocket interrupted him. Sam frantically stood and pat his bottom, hoping to silence it before it rang. The pastor had just begun the fiery pinnacle of his sermon.  

“And then! Just when he had resolved to give up, the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. And in that dream, saints of God, that angel said “Joseph! Son of David! Do not be afraid—"

“I beat that bitch with a bat, I beat that bitch with a bat, I beat that bitch with a bat…”  

The entire congregation turned to look at Sam, just as he managed to retrieve his phone. He answered the call with a crimson blush, gesturing toward the church doors.  

“So sorry. Sorry about this. My friends, they…they like to play tricks and change my ringtone sometimes.” He nearly tripped over his own feet, bracing his fall on an older gentleman’s arm instead of the church pew. “Oh, sorry! I….” The man gave an annoyed scowl, yanking his hand away. “My bad. What is that, an Armani? That’s…that’s a quality suit material you’ve got there, sir.”  

Sam finally felt the double doors behind him. He gave a relieved sigh and an awkward salute to the pastor. “Again, I’m leaving now! Sorry! I don’t hit bitches with bats! Or…. or anything else!” He shouted, pushing the doors closed behind him. A moment passed, just as the pastor opened his mouth again, before Sam popped back in. “Oh, and I don’t call women bitches. And I’m sorry for saying bitches in church.” He thought a moment, then added, blushing, “And I’m sorry for repeating it twice just now. Okay, I’ll just…..” He gestured his way out with his thumb, closing the door more carefully to ensure it didn’t slam closed.  

O-O

[kurlyq722]

Posting an excerpt from the new chapter tomorrow! Sincerely sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy it!

[kurlyq722]

EXCERPT: Does He Know You?—Until Death (4 of 5)

Just an excerpt I love that shows off Sam’s beautiful thoughts about Mercedes and his love for her.

They stood, suspended in a blink of time, Sam's hand still pressed to Mercedes's heart, and took each other in. Mercedes's words, like Nettie's, were dizzying.

As he processed, Sam took in broad brushstrokes of her appearance. He noted her shorter frame, barely grazing his chin, and the warm, syrupy tones of her eyes. He noted how full her lips were, as full as the rest of her body. How her chest felt silk-fragile against his palm. How the rounded tip of her nose mirrored the rounding bump of her new belly. Those three little crescent creases between her eyebrows….

…Goodness.

How could anyone see her and think that she was the one that didn't deserve him? What a beautiful soul, his Mercedes.

The thing he processed differently this time—one he'd seen many times over, but overlooked—was how the moon reflected off of her dark skin. He always knew that there was a stark difference in their coloring. His hand always looked paler next to the warmth of her brown. But the way the light hit them was so different. If they were a painting, he would blend into the moon's glow. It would romance his appearance, but most of its beauty would be absorbed, camouflaged. But, the moon pearlized her dark skin. She transformed into velvet, with a sheen that seemed to draw him in, whispering its secrets. He imagined, if he were able to look deeper, that he would discover an ancestor in each of her cells. He imagined that each ancestor had a tiny spindle, and the spindle would spin yellowed straw into beautiful gold spools. They'd spend their entire afterlives weaving together a host of memories, knotting them into the threads until they formed tiny golden tapestries. When the light would come, their spindles spun, allowing their ancient fingers to work, and the beams bouncing off of their woven designs would come together to polish Mercedes' entire countenance.

Her black skin held tiny stories, and those stories were woven into every sharp and soft part of her being. Those golden tapestries of the ancestors glinted like tiny flecks of glitter in the moonlight, and right now, altogether, they made her existing beauty even more stunning.

His flesh had never known stories like hers. But, to ignore it, simply because it was unfamiliar to him, would be utter sacrilege. Those glittering stories woven into her black velvet skin are part of what made her so awe-inspiring.

He understood now, in one way. He understood why ignoring it was so hurtful. It's like praising the flower and cursing the roots. How could he worship her fullness and not investigate what feeds it? How could he say he loved her wholly and dismiss her parts? It wouldn't work. It wasn't working. That's what she was telling him.

If only he could share what he knew as eloquently as he said it in his head. Words always came out fucked up when he tried to express himself.

'Sam?" Mercedes asked softly, catching a flickering of awareness in his eyes.

He still had so many questions he wanted to ask, but Sam wisely chose to nod instead, replying, "I hear you."

[kurlyq722]

Author Updates!

So sorry, first of all, for not delivering my promised post. I’ve been an integral part of the protests in my area and didn’t factor in the emotional and mental toll it would take, alongside my usual work. I’m still working on editing the next chapter, and should have more time after tomorrow to edit. My most recent post discusses Black Lives Matter, but trust me when I say that the coincidence was a happy accident. I’ve had this story outlined completely for over a year. The chapter before discussed these issues before these new round of protests started. I can’t say that I’m not pleased by the coinciding, though. It’s made the story more relevant, and its discussions, more necessary than before. 

Second, so sorry for the gross grammatical errors in the last chapter. Most people didn’t comment on it, but I noticed and made the necessary changes today. It should be an easier and clearer read. I hope FF.net doesn’t hate me and add their own ‘revisions’. It has happened in the past. (Insert dramatic eye roll). Also, if you haven’t been able to leave reviews recently, its because I’ve deleted the author’s notes and changed the chapter count. You can leave a review anonymously until we ‘catch up’ in chapter count. 

Last, I love you, readers, and hope you’re as well as can be. I still don’t know how many of you are still with me, but I love you all the same, no matter the number. Stay as healthy and well as possible. Keep creating because the world needs your art. Love others while they’re living. Black Lives Matter. 

xoxo, 

Kurly

Link to most recent chapter: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7783033/48/Does-He-Know-You

[howelldaniel]

There’s a fic on fanfiction(.)net that I’ve kept tabs on for years to see if it’s been updated or not. While I’m no longer even in the fandom it’s written for, it just has one of the greatest storylines I’ve ever read. Last time it was updated was 2011.

The other day, I decided to reread the entire thing and leave a very in-depth review of what I thought of each chapter. I also mentioned how I started reading it when I was 13 and am now 21, but always came back to see if it was ever finished because I loved it so dearly.

Today, said author sent me a private message saying that her analytics showed that the story was still getting views even after all these years, but no one ever bothered to leave reviews other than “update soon!!!”, so she never felt motivated enough to finish it. She said that me reviewing every single chapter with lengthy paragraphs made her cry and meant the world to her. She also mentioned that she felt encouraged to write the two remaining chapters needed to complete the story and that she would send me a message the night before she updates the fic.

I’m literally sobbing. I’m so excited :’)

Please always remember to leave a review when reading fanfiction!!! It means a lot to a writer.

[thesparkles59-deactivated201811]

Seriously, this is what keeps us going; YOUR COMMENTS. 

[ashleyfanfic]

And you think my ranting about it is just being salty! It’s not! Reviews can mean the difference between feeling motivated and feeling out of place.

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

It’s how I finished a fic after it sitting unfinished for half a year. Got a long ass review that gave me ideas and then I wrote the last chapter.

[softestvirgil]

This is so true and so important

[dean-cas-in-the-impala]

This is why I always ask my readers to leave comments. You don’t understand how important it is.

[wckhamm]

Art doesn’t happen in a vacuum, y’all. Feedback is the Most Important part of the creative process.

[kurlyq722]

This is not to pressure my readers at all. This is simply to emphasize how much you matter to me and to the fanfiction world at large. I couldn’t do it without you!

[kurlyq722]

Had to adjust the chapter count a bit, but another post should be up by the end of the week! Enjoy this second to last installment! 

[kurlyq722]

So, as most have read from the excerpt, my upcoming chapter dealt with race dynamics and social awareness. It also handles BLM a bit and the “blind spots” in interracial relationships.

I’ve had this chapter outline for well over a year. I’ve had final details cleaned up since earlier this month. Now that it’s almost ready to publish, I fear it’s a bit too on the nose and sensitive for the time. Honestly, it’s gotten harder and harder to finish as the days went on. This quarantine and this constant fight to defend the value of black lives has been emotionally exhausting.

Still, though, I’m almost finished. I’ve been working hard to complete the things I’ve started.

Should I post now? Delay? Try to skip it altogether? I know I only have a few on here that reply, but I’d love to know.

[astrologers-cloud-club]

What your birth chart will teach you:

SUN: Why do I act and express myself the way I do

MOON: Why do I react and feel the way I do

ASCENDENT: Why do I see and meet the world the way I do

MERCURY: Why do I think and communicate the way I do

VENUS: Why do I express affection the way I do

MARS: Why do I express anger and passion the way I do

JUPITER: Where do I feel most confident and where do I push my luck

SATURN: Where do I feel most anxious and where do I need to realize authority

URANUS: Where do I rebel and innovate

NEPTUNE: Where do I lose touch with reality and how do I escape it

PLUTO: Where do I feel most powerless and how do I need to let go of ego to transform

MIDHEAVEN: What do I want to achieve and who do I want to become

DESCENDENT: What do I project on other people

[kurlyq722]

For any fellow writers that use natal charts for their characters. Or actors exploring roles. Or generally curious followers of mine.

[kaylewiswrites-deactivated20180]

How I think I’m writing: Using eye contact, or lack thereof, to display emotions such as intimacy, shock, denial, or nervousness. 

How I’m actually writing: She looked at me, and I looked away. I tried to look back, but she was already looking at the sky. “Look,” she sighs, looking back at me for a split second. “I don’t know how to say this.” We looked at each other and time stopped, but then she looked her lookers at something else to look at, looking tired. 

[kurlyq722]

I know this is meant to be insulting, but I feel seen. I feel validated. 😂

[kurlyq722]

Excerpt: Does He Know You? Until Death (4 of 4)

Here’s a small snippet of Mercedes’ and Sam’s argument, immediately following the disastrous Christmas Dinner at Nettie’s. I’ve added some GIFs for mood. Enjoy! 

Sam’s mouth snapped shut. “Okay, sorry. That was out of line.”

Mercedes nodded, crossing her arms. “You’re damn right, it was.  But it wasn’t nearly as out of line as everything else you just said, Sam!” Mercedes covered her eyes, groaning. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I didn’t see this earlier. I’ve been so blind. So stupid!”

“Hey, don’t do that.” Sam stood and quickly crossed to embrace her. “Babe, it’s not your fault. Some older folks just have racist views that we can’t change. I was a little surprised by Momma Pat and Mr. Jones’ reaction, but hey….”

“They have racist views?”  Mercedes pulled away, visibly disgusted. “Sam, I was talking about you.”

“Me?” Sam laughed, “What? I’m racist?!”

“I don’t see color? I don’t see you as different? Would I even be here if I cared about the fact that you were black? How would I know about HBCUs, because I’m white?” Mercedes mocked, eyes wide. Sam frowned, still lost. “Oh my god, Sam! You don’t hear anything wrong with what you said?”

“I know you want me to say yes, but….” Sam shrugged. That hollow feeling in the pit of his belly returned, more cavernous than before. “What did I say wrong? Tell me what I said wrong and I can fix it.” He reached for her hand again. This time, she did snatch it away, crossing to the other corner of the room.

“And that’s another problem, Sam. This whole ‘ditzy blond’ thing’s been a problem I’ve had with you since the beginning, and I’ve told you this.” Mercedes turned, crossing her arms. “It is not my job to teach you everything about my blackness. I am not your personal guide to all things Negro.”

“Woah, wait. I never said the N-word.”

Mercedes sighed in frustration, rubbing her eyes. “That’s not even the N-word, Sam.” She collected herself a moment, fighting the urge to slap him. “Sam, let me ask you a question. Do you even consider the fact that I’m black? Like, at all?”

Sam’s face scrunched. “Of course I do. I’m always aware of how white I am when I’m around your family. I can’t avoid it.”

“I didn’t ask you about how white you felt around my family. I asked you if you’ve ever thought about the fact that I’m black. What that means?” She prodded, hoping he’d think before he answered.

“Mercedes, of course I’ve thought about it. You’ve always been so proud to be black and I love that about you. What I’m saying is that I love you, regardless of how different we are.  I don’t see your color or how different you are from me, I just see you.”

Mercedes exploded. “You keep saying that! You keep repeating that like it’s a compliment, like it’s supposed to make me happy! It doesn’t, Sam! Hearing you say that is the most ignorant thing you’ve said.”

“How is that ignorant? Don’t you love me in spite of the fact that I’m white? How is that any different?”

“It’s different because when people look at us, they don’t think ‘how was he ever lucky enough to get someone like her?’, Sam. They think ‘Why is that white man with that dark-skinned black woman? Why couldn’t he find someone like him?’ I get the weird looks and the cold treatment, Sam. Not you. And It’s because I’m black!”

Sam sighed, softening in understanding. “Mercy, they’re ignorant. I don’t care about what other people think….”

“No, Sam. You still don’t get it.” Mercedes did her best to collect herself again, formulating her thoughts. “I am so, so…. ridiculously proud to be black. Like, I can’t imagine being anything else. I love my heritage, I love our music, I love our food, I love the skin that I’m in…. everything. And I didn’t grow up always appreciating every part of my blackness, because ignorant folk here used to make me feel like I was ‘too black’ or ‘not black enough’ and I never quite knew where I fit. But I’ve found my place now, Sam. And, so much of who I am, so much of what you love about me is because I’ve embraced that. The color of my skin isn’t everything I am, but it is a big part of me.”

“And baby, I get that!”

“Do you?” she prodded. “Because if you did, you couldn’t love me in spite of my blackness. Black isn’t just my race and my pigment. It’s my soul, my heart, my rhythm and my backbone. Sam, when you say that, you negate all that makes me me. It’s worse than saying you don’t love me. It’s saying you don’t see me, not fully.”

Sam reflected, still confused, but battling guilt. “Mercedes, I—”

Mercedes shook her head, holding out her hand to stop him. “Sam, please let me finish.” She took a breath, fighting fresh tears as she revealed a part of herself she’d unknowingly kept hidden. “I’ve never said anything because I was afraid of messing up our relationship. But, I think not saying it has messed us up even more, so….here goes.” She clenched and unclenched her fists, working up her courage.

O-O

A/N: Don’t worry. No breakups on the horizon. But this conversation is LONG overdue. Nettie done started somethin’.....

[kurlyq722]

The Next Chapter is coming SOON!

My lovelies, I have been writing like crazy, trying to perfect every sentence so it reads the way i see it in my head. 

Because my 9-5 job is also creative, my time has been torn. But trust me, I’m far from giving up. 

Also, for someone that hasn’t been talking about her feelings lately, Mercedes is MONOLOGUING. Like, sis! FINALLY! Nettie’s not even ready, fam. Sam ain’t ready. No one’s ready. 

I’ll drop an excerpt when I can. 

[kurlyq722]

Intentional Writing, Corona, and art in a time of lack

Hello my lovely readers, I hope to have my internet back up tomorrow, after several weeks of operating solely on spotty LTE from my phone. If the service person can find out why my modem decided to give up the ghost, I should be in a position to write the next chapter, starting tomorrow morning. I plan to focus on writing for the rest of the week. Thankfully, the outline of the story is already sorted and done. It’s simply a matter of “filling in the blanks” with plot driven dialogue and more quote worthy Sam lines. (I really love writing those.) For those that do not know, I am also a creative in my time away from fanfiction. As most are already aware, the Coronavirus is wreaking havoc on us as a nation and as a world, forcing us to be confined, away from others. Creative work on a larger scale requires collaboration—more often than not, in-person. I have several friends that are worried about where their next meal will come from. Friends that will not be able to walk for their art degrees during graduation season. Loved ones that have had notifications of job cancellations since early March, promising no income for the next three months. Still, these same brilliant creatives create. Because, if we as artists are nothing else, we are resilient. We are the megaphone for the world at large, the beacon of hope in times of wanting. We are not only essential, we are crucial. The world would stop spinning without art. I say all of this to say: please, never ever stop writing. Never stop singing. Never stop imagining and finding a platform for the world you’ve created. We need you now more than ever. Dreamers don’t stop in the face of crisis. History has proven that. Don’t let this pandemic kill your colorful spirit. Don’t let anything kill it. We always need art in a time of lack. It shows us who we are and who we could be. It inspires hope and fosters change. It breaks the monotony. Dare I say, it cures the depression of loneliness and uncertainty. Keep creating, artists. Keep creating. I love you. The world needs you. We can’t do any of this without you. We need you. Write now. Xoxo, Kurly