If you even SAY the word snow Virginia shuts the fuck down
I knew this had to be Virginia. I remember how it snowed for about five minutes and all of the schools shut down
*Michiganders cackling in the distance*
*Eastern North Carolinians cackling in the distance because we do the same damn thing*
CANADIANS VIOLENTLY HISSING IN THE DISTANCE
Texas shuts down too
As you can see, FOX is airing a rerun of Extraordinary Merry Christmas tonight.
I am sure everyone knows this should have contained The Box Scene, that was instead cut. We all know the explanation that Brad Falchuk gave for that.
The episode that aired last Thursday, Previously Unaired Christmas, caused a lot of backlash, negative fan and GA reaction. Considering one of the main reasons, it would be really good if we could take to both Twitter, and even more importantly Facebook, to remind them once again of it, to protest the disparity and remind them of our love of positive Klaine moments.
One of the possible negative consequences of the backlash of PUC is that the network might have a knee jerk reaction of simply no more gay. We are not getting much as it is, and this may very well continue or even be enhanced by Blam roomies, instead of Klaine living together, or similar developments.
It is important to be clear
- why we disliked the previous episode
- ask again why something like TBS was cut and yet PUC was aired
- ask for positive representation and make a clear statement that it is not the gay that is the problem. It is the content they are giving us, in case of PUC or not giving us, in general, when it comes to Klaine.
Tweet and post on the Facebook post after the episode airs! It is a great opportunity to show the obvious problems in how they treat Klaine and to say we want to see positive things for them.
warnings: mentions/descriptions of self-harm and anxiety
blaine had called twice already, leaving a voicemail the second time about how he would be late again, but kurt left his phone on the table in the kitchen. the vibrations from it set his teeth on edge, made his body throb with anxiety and unhappy tension he couldn’t expel. he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten something more substantial than a snack or had water with his endless cups of coffee and tea or slept without unsettling dreams. he had been spiralling steadily and quietly over the past month, both he and blaine too busy to do more than cuddle and fall asleep together, much less scene in the way kurt knew he needed. he focused on the rings around his eyes in the bathroom mirror as he pinched hard blood bruises up and down his inner forearms, twisting the skin and breathing heavily, trying to stave off the panic welling in his throat. by the time he realized what he was doing, his arms were a mass of bloody fingernail-marked skin and faint purple blotches. child’s pose came easily to him as he stripped off his clothes down to his briefs, clasping his hands in front of him and angling his forearms and head down against the carpet.
he came back to himself an unidentified amount of time later with blaine running warm hands over his back. he was shivering violently and cramped and his arms burned.
”kurt, put your arms palm up in front of you,” blaine commanded softly. kurt trembled under the weight of blaine’s voice and heard blaine’s surprised exhale of breath at seeing the mess of kurt’s arms.
”we’re going to talk about this tomorrow, okay kurt? answer me.”
”i’m sorry, blaine, i just—”
blaine picked kurt up from the floor and spread out his aching body on the bed, pressing and smoothing and then peeling his briefs down his legs. kurt felt heavy and fuzzy, his awareness dimming and blaine’s presence creating the safety he needed to melt into subspace. he felt blaine press a hot washcloth to his wrists and inner arms and the creases of his elbows and then a hand-warmed lotion followed in light massaging circles. he felt the bed dipping with blaine’s weight.
”i’m going to lock the collar, kurt. nod if you’re okay with that,” he heard blaine say, and his head felt like honey, sticky and slow, as he moved it up and down. the cool metal pressed over his throat and wrapped around below his hairline and the sound of it clicking into place and the metal-on-wood clink of the key on the nightstand made kurt choke with the force of feeling that crashed over him.
”you’re okay, baby boy,” blaine said gently. “i’m right here.”
blaine held him as he cried, hot, angry tears, chest heaving and body turned to press front to front against blaine’s, letting himself sink.
he woke suddenly the next morning after a sleep that had felt like death, enveloped by blaine, collar a warm possessive brand around his neck.
You and me together we’ll be
Forever you’ll see
We two can be good company
"I gotta practice now, Kurt," Blaine laughs, shooing Kurt away from where he’s trying to climb into Blaine’s lap.
"But you’re in the best spot,” Kurt says, sulking. He kneels on the ground with his tail twitching in that adorably annoyed way.
Kurt loves napping on the piano bench. The sun hits it just right in the late afternoon, and they go through the same little disagreement every time Blaine comes to practice his piano playing after school.
Blaine reaches out and strokes between his ears, scratching his fingers through Kurt’s soft hair. A little purr escapes Kurt before he can school his responses back into practiced irritation. ”You know if I don’t practice then Mom won’t let us go out on a walk.”
Kurt does like walking. He doesn’t get enough exercise around the house while Blaine is off at school. Prowling room to room is pointless, and he’d much rather while the hours away on the different projects they give him. His fingers are deft with a needle and thread and he can copy almost any outfit he sees without even needing a pattern. He likes the puzzle of it and the whole Anderson family likes the results, even if lately he mostly just wants to make things for Blaine.
"Fine," Kurt says, and lifts himself up to standing height. He runs his hands down his thighs to brush off invisible lint and then perches on the bench besides Blaine. "Then I’ll help you."
Blaine looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, you will, will you?”
"Mhm." Kurt’s ears are perky and alert as he watches Blaine’s fingers move over the keys. Blaine plays a song through once and then a second time when Kurt quietly orders, "Again."
By the third time Kurt puts his own fingers down and taps out the song along with Blaine. It’s one of the more simple ones Blaine does, nothing more than a warm up, but Blaine lets out a delighted laugh. “Kurt, you’re good!”
"Of course I am." Kurt rolls his eyes, but he smiles happily at the praise and rumbles another little purr when Blaine puts an arm around him and squeezes him into a halfway-hug. He rubs his temple against Blaine’s shoulder to leave his scent there, and sniffs the deliciousness of Blaine’s own human smell while he’s tucked in close. "Now will you move so I can get back into the sun?"
A woman was left gobsmacked when she learned the gold ring she stumbled across in a field was 2,000 years old.
"When he told me it was an ancient gold ring, it felt like a gift from the underworld," Lundin told The Local. "It was my magnificent ring. I didn’t want to give it up."
It’s my precious!
Sing My Imperfect Offering(part seven)
Chris/Darren. PG-13. Chris is a writer, a recluse, and in love with his delivery boy. 1.2k.
You are the light,
That’s leading me,
To the place,
Where I find peace again.
- Everything by Lifehouse
Chris sits in his living room, fingers gripping tight to the arms of his favorite comfortable chair.
Darren is asleep in his bed.
He’s never had anyone in his bed. Not this bed, at least, in a literal or a figurative sense.
But Darren’s been a little less and less energetic each day he’s come over, and he hadn’t been over at all the day before. He’d had to work, and then a gig to play, and it seemed like in the forty or so hours since Chris has seen him all the color had just gone out of Darren.
Leaving him there on Chris’s doorstep that morning looking exhausted, sniffling and couching and pathetic, and some caretaker instinct in Chris just took over. He’d guided Darren, hand in hand, into the living room made him sit. He’d given him cough syrup - the good kind he has from his last bout with illness, laced with codeine that knocked Darren out.
When it became obvious that Darren wasn’t able to hold his eyes open much longer, Chris had led him into the bedroom and now that’s where Darren is, fast asleep and snoring with a congested rattle.
Every few minutes Chris goes in there to just - stand. To look at him. To make sure that this is still reality and not some elaborate fever dream of his own.
My inbox won’t let me publish asks. D: What stop doing that. *smacks tumblr around*