#I’m sorry to those who know me in my personal life

[happypot0001]

HAAAAHHHGAGAGAGAGHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA ahhh I usually either just don’t do these or forget BUT I DIDNT FORGET THIS TIME!!!!! THABK YOU @sailingseals FOR TAGGING ME YOURE SO SWEET WHAHAHAH THABK YOU THABK YOU UMMMMMMMM LETS SEE THIS IS GONNA BE COMPLICATED BUT ILL TRY TO GET EVERYONE!!

WE CAN START OFF WITH SPECIAL FRIENDS IVE TALKED TO!!!! LUV YAAAAA!!! @boxxie-does-art, @lockinglooms1028, @cheeesecakee!!! NOW SOME SPECIAL PEOPLE WHO I JUST LIKE SEEING HEART MY STUFF OR THEIR INTEREST IN SIMILAR THINGS AS MEEEEEEEE!!! @acidk4t, @quamaii, @fruityvermint, @calx-091305, @lookingviewer, @arsonarena, @cxff3-tt, @cauliflawava, @idktbhifanythingimjustdumb, and some special mentions to great creators who are definitely unaware of my presence uhhhhhhhhhhhhh hope they don’t mind anyways @just-a-carrot (MADE THE VISUAL NOVEL OUR WONDERLAND AND EASTER BRO CHECK IT OUT THE GAME ACTUALLY CHANGED MY LIFE BRO BRO BRO HELP SERIOUS) , @bwobgames (HEHEEEEEEE THE CREATOR OF THE GAME DETETCTIVE BEEBO SOME FRIENDS RECOMMENDED THE GAME TO ME BUT I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO PLAY IT YET BUT YOU DON’T KNOW HOW FREAKING FRREEEAAKKINNGGGG EXCITED I AM TO PLAY THE CHARACTERS ARE ALREADY SO LIKABLE AND I LOVE PUZZLE GAMES OMMGGGGGGGGG AHHHHHH) , @deduukkk (TADC AU AND ARTSTYLE ARE FREAKING AMAZING OMG HELP WHEN I SEE THEIR STUFF I GET SUPER DUPER EXCITED ITS ACTUALLY CRAZY HAHA), @toastyyjams (I’m actually stalking this person such amazing pjsk art AHHHHHHHHHHHHH I’ve reblogged their art before so cool if you like pjsk see them), @overlymetaromantic (AAAAAHHH A WEBTOON creatorrrrr of MANY COOL PEOPLE HAHAAAAAAA WOWOW I REALLY AM INSPIRED BY THEM BECAUSE THEYRE AN AROACE CREATOR WHO STILL CREATES A ROMANCE WEBCOMIC WHICH JUST INSPIRES ME AND MAKES ME HAPPY 🥹🥹🥹🥹) @blueiziz (JAPANESE CREATOR OF THE GAME WITCHS HEART BROOOOOO IDK HOW BUT THIS GAME MAKES MY HEART RACE ITS COOL ITS COOL ITS SUPER COOL I LIKE THE FREAKING CHARACTERS HAHAHHAAAAAA THEYRE SO LIKABLE JDJDJDJDJD WELL MOST OF THEM SOME OF THEM MORE THAN OTHERS HELP I PERSONALLY LIKE THE GAME SO YOU SHOULD CHECK IT OUT) @racheldrawsthis (MADE TOO MANY AMAZING GAMES LIKE DEAD PLATE AND COLD FRONT AND ELEVATOR HITCH OMG I LOVED ALL OF THOSE WHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA AHHHHHHHHHH ELOQUENT COUNTENANCE BROOOOO SUCH A COOL CREATOR AND ITS THEM AND ALSO), @ekrixart (THIS PERSON TOO WHO HELP WITH THE GAMES I PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED BRO THWYRE ALSO SO COOL IDK IF THE MUSIC GUY FOR THE GAMES IS ON TUMBLR BUT IF THEY ARE THEN I TAG THEM TOO SORRY IF THIS WAS A BOTHER IM JUST EXCITED AND APPRECIATE THE COOL CREATORS YOU GUYS ARE WHAHAHAH)

:DDDDDDDDD HEY GUYSSSSSSSSSSS NOT FORCING ANYONE TO REBLOG BUT I APPRECIATE YOUUU IF YOU NEEDED SOME POSITIVITY TODAY I HOPE THIS HELPS!!!!??!?!!!!!!!??!🥹🥹 AHHHH HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT!!

positivity train!

if you see this or are tagged in it, tag a couple of your favorite mutuals/blogs and let them know you appreciate seeing them on your dash!

@h0neysugarfree @blueberrylovv @bequiteanddriveeeeeee @cherri-bomb-bomb @eg0mechan1c @fatrexicisback

[iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning]

so i think this might have been top three, if not top one, worst years of my life; and while i still don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, as i’m still concerningly depressed and consistently declining (my therapist just quit her job so now i have to start all over w someone new AND my psychiatrist wants me to take 6 wks off work to do iop dbt so that’s fun), i’ve managed to conjure up some teeny tiny shreds of hope that next year will be even slightly better

i don’t drink much bc i really hate the taste of alcohol lmao so i probably won’t be drinking tonight and i’ll probably be in bed asleep when the ball drops

but i wanted to say thank you to all of you, who have been so so kind to me since i decided to join our little tumblr community. you guys have provided comfort to me in some really really dark times (and i literally suck so much at responding to people so i apologize for that and rest assured, its one of my resolutions lolol), and even in the not so dark times when i get one of those cute ask trends (the ones where its a cute message and then you send it to your favorite blogs too, y’all know what i’m talking abt) in my inbox bc truly i love them sm 🥺. they make my day every single time i see one, even if i don’t respond to it right away

happy new years everyone🍾🎊 hopefully this next year is better for all of us, even if this year wasn’t all that bad for you

(also even though i quite literally just admitted to being terrible at responding ((again so sorry)), send me messages bc i love this little community and i want to talk to more of you guys and be lil friends bc y’all seem so fucking sick and cool as shit and i promise i’ll try so hard to respond better stg but also pls have some grace if i don’t sometimes bc sometimes i don’t have the mental capacity to formulate any kind of sentence or response in any way but stg i’ll try my best😭)

(also also thank you to every single person who puts any kind of time and effort into writing any and all of the fics that are out there ((check out my fic recs for all of my favs (((i’m a smut whore if no one could tell😅))) )). genuinely and sincerely those get me through every day of my life ((esp when i reread my absolute favs in the entire world)) and i love to see all of your different writing styles. i’m so looking forward to whatever different directions you all go in with your writing and ideas. cheers to y’all for making my life a whole lot more bearable lmao🥂)

edit: i’ve decided i’m forcing myself to stay up until midnight so that i can ring in the new year listening to miracle (specifically the “i wanted to dress a blade up in red w both of our necks…” part🥹) yk to drum up good vibes for the new year. upward and onwards everyone🤝🏻

[agirlandherquill]

truths

goodness it's january 1st already, only feels like yesterday that i typed up the final post for writeblr - which was such a blast, and thanks again to all who participated - and even if you didn't, it's never too late to use the prompts for a little inspo! - anyways, for the past couple of days i've been working on a little story, something completely outside of my usual comfort zone,

for starters, it's not fantasy, in my mind it's a contemporary thriller, and it's written in first person (cue the nervous butterflies)

and incase the title wasn't a give-away, i've decided to give this story a very simple title - truths.

it's a story about a journalist in a small town trying to solve a series of murders terrorising the community, and she's teaming up with a private detective to do it - which is bound to have it's chaotic moments, just like the case and the story she's trying to write

and for once in my life, I've come up with a little blurb (queue sarcastic applause, because blurbs are the bane of my existence)

"Three murders and counting plague a small town, where no-one has a clue who's responsible, not even the police, and it's the greatest story to hit the local papers in years - only it's not been written yet, because journalist Bette never publishes an unfinished story. She is going to find the truth, find who's responsible, and finish the tragic story for her community, once and for all. Only she's not alone. Someone else is along for the truth-seeking ride. Private-Detective AJ appoints himself her partner in crime - or truth, if we're being specific - and he has no intention of letting the killer walk free. Let the search for truth begin - for all of them. Because the truth is twisted, it is tragic, it is different, from every angle. And for Bette and AJ, the truth could be just as deadly."

have i got your attention? read on if you'd like a sneak peek to the story, with the first chapter :) (and if you want to read more, i'll be sticking the chapters up on ao3, which you can find here)

He’s looking at me again.

For the fifth time in the last hour, I pretend to sip from my empty mug, using the opportunity to catch a glimpse of him. Only this time as I shift in my chair, someone walks past, crashing into my table. Coffee spills from their mug and onto my shirt. 

I stand up with a gasp at the shock of it, then try to swipe a few napkins from the rack on my table, dabbing frantically at the stain while the person whose coffee has now ruined my day leaves the shop without another word. 

“Some people hey? Are you all right?”

I look to my left. A man, early twenties, unruly brown hair and blue eyes stands there, offering me a few more napkins. Oddly nice of him. Nicer than anyone else in here. 

“Thanks. I’m all right.” I take them, and make a pitiful attempt of rubbing the stain out of the material. “I can’t say the same for this though.”

“At least it didn’t damage anything more important.” 

“What?” I look at him, confused. Is my shirt not important? Is it not important to not look like a coffee-stained slob at 11:33 in the morning? 

He gestures to my laptop, sitting next to my empty mug. The criminally empty mug, which he spots, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “Oh,” I sigh, reaching and double checking nothing had spilt on it. It was fine. “Yeah, I guess so.”

That’s when I notice it. The table where the staring man had been, was empty. I look away, then to him. “I guess this was just the perfect excuse you needed to come over and talk to me, wasn’t it?”

He props a hip on my table. As though he has the right to do so. I fold the useless napkins into a ball and stuff them in my empty cup before I look at him again. “Get bored of staring for an hour?”

“I didn’t need an excuse to talk to you.”

“No?”

“I just needed to know the right thing to say.”

I tense. “I’m sorry?”

He blinks, then holds his hands up. “I swear, I’m not one of those guys that tries to pick girls up in coffee shops - I’ve never- I don’t-”

Why is it on me to stop him digging his own grave? I sigh. “It’s fine. Look, I’ve got a busy morning ahead of me, and I’d rather not stand here in a stained shirt and become a spectacle, so if you want to say something… Go for it.” 

He clears his throat. “I’ve been here for the past couple of days, wondering when you’d come in.”

“Right,” I stare at him. “Because that’s not creepy.”

“No, no, I-” He rubs his neck, clearly flustered. “I was told, that if I wanted to talk to you, that this was the best place.”

I should be more alarmed by this, shouldn’t I? But there was that usual nagging at the back of my head, curiosity doing its usual tactic of becoming irresistible. It’s going to become a problem for me one day, I know that, but for the past 23 years of my life it’s not steered me too wrong so far. I sit back down in my chair, scoot my laptop out of the way, and nod for him to sit. He looks surprised that I’ve not told him to scarper. He sits down and I take a minute to take him in. His shirt is white, new, I think, judging by the lack of creases. All of the buttons are done up, save for the one nearest his throat. He likes to be presentable, but not so uptight that he’d rather not breathe. Brownie points in my favour. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s people who act as though they were born with sticks shoved up an unspeakable orifice. He wears a blazer - if I had to name the shade, I’d go for slate - Not too obtrusive on the eyes, but nice all the same. And it fits him well. Tailored? No. I think that’s muscle under there, not fabric. 

That’s when I realise I’ve been staring for a fraction too long. He’s smiling at me, an awkward one, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Then again, if he’s been watching me for the past hour, I’m allowed to return the favour, right? 

I prop my chin on my hand. “So, first off, who told you I’d be here?”

“Alfie.” Down at the Piper. Course he did, mouthy bastard. I’m not allowed to have my own private schedule down there.

“You want a job down at the Piper then?” I’m surprised. He doesn’t strike me as a journalist. In fact, he looks too nice for that.

He shakes his head, and I have to admit, curiosity digs its claws into my mind a little bit more. “What then?”

“I-I think it’ll make more sense first if I explain to you who I am.”

Policeman. Christ. He’s come to tell me I can’t use my sources on this story and without them, I’m-

“I’m a sleuth.”

I have to hear him say it again in order to believe my hearing’s not just left me and gone to hell. “What?”

“A… Sleuth. A private detective, whatever name you want to call it.”

Private detective, not an actual one. Phew, I’m in the clear. I tilt my head. “Go on then, Detective, tell me about yourself.”

He shifts in his seat, as though the mention of the title makes him squirm. “Well…” He looks nervous. I pity him. He’s not the sort of person I like to see squirm. For starters, his suit hasn’t come from the posher shops way down the high-street. I raise a hand to the passing waitress and order us two more coffees. He looks at me, blinking, before he seems to relax a little and goes on. “My name is AJ, I’m investigating the…” He stops as the waitress brings us our coffees, I slip her the cash and take a sip of mine, while he waits for her to be out of earshot before he continues.

“I’m investigating the Chapel Murders.”

I very nearly spit my coffee in his face. It scorches my throat as I force it down and reach for my laptop, discreetly shutting the screen. The screen of the story I’m writing for the Piper’s front page, about the very same thing. If he’s seen anything- No, he can’t have. But how does he know I’m the one that’s writing- Oh. Alfie. I’m going to drown him with the water fountain one of these days, then he’ll keep his mouth shut.

I take a napkin and dab at my lips, gesturing for him to go on.

“I’ve been asked by one of the families to find who’s responsible, and since the police aren’t about to do me any favours, I thought I’d come to you.”

“And you think I know anything?”

“I think that you’re the best chance I’ve got in this town, and you’ve been typing for 30 minutes straight, you’ve got something.”

“Listen, there’s such a thing as credibility and I can’t have you putting mine into question,” I sigh, packing my laptop into my bag. I pick up my coffee and stand. “It’s been nice talking to you AJ, I wish you the best of luck but I’m afraid I can’t help you.” No matter what Alfie’s said.

His face falls. I didn’t expect to see him so disappointed, but then I remind myself. He’s a P.I. He’s got to be used to doing things on his own. I raise my coffee cup to him. “Have a nice day.”

I leave The Brew, my favoured coffee spot in town, at precisely 11:48, when I check my phone and round the corner. I get to the zebra crossing when someone touches my arm. I jolt. My phone flies out of my hand and clatters to the floor. Someone reaches it before I do. I turn and see AJ, holding it out. “Look, I’m sorry, I just really need your help.”

“So you try to give me a heart attack?”

One of the cars at the crossing beeps at me. I shoot them a glare. Drive past then, it’ll be my funeral if I step out. But I’m busy right now. They beep again and I wave them through, turning back to AJ, who is still touching my arm. “I told you, I can’t help.”

There’s something in his eyes that stops me from bolting immediately. He looks… Sad? 

He takes a deep breath, then pulls his hand away from my arm. “Matt Colton. The second victim. He’s my brother.”

I pause. His face did feel familiar. But when I’ve spent the last two nights staring at the photo we’ve put out for Matt’s eulogy, it would be one I wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Guilt kicks me in the ribs. I can’t just tell him to get lost now, can I? He deserves to know. He deserves to find the truth about who took his brother’s life. Isn’t that why I took this job? For the truth? For people’s stories?

I thrust my coffee cup into his hand. “Hold this for me.”

He stares at me, but takes it. “Why?”

“Because, I can’t write with my hands full.” I fumble with my bag for my pen, then take out my notebook, flicking to the back page. I scribble the address for the Piper on it, then my email address, then I tear the page out and hand it over to him. “Meet me there, 7:45am tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

I take my coffee from him, a small part of my stomach fluttering at seeing the hopeful smile dawning on his face.

“Thank you. I mean it. T-Thank you.”

I salute him with my coffee and head across the road, only to be stopped by someone shouting. 

“Hey! Hey!”

I pivot on the curb, confused.

“I called about you at the Piper, but Alfie never gave me your name.” He gave you everything else though - Christ, I’m having words about privacy when I get back to the office.

“It’s Bette.”

He smiles at me, and waves. “I’ll see you tomorrow Bette.”

And then he walks away on the other side of the street, and strangely enough, I find myself looking forward to it.

~ ~ ~

now for the tag list!

(p.s if you'd like to be included/notified too, interact with this post :) p.p.s im finally getting around to updating it, so bear with me :))

@humbly-a-doppelganger @imawholeassmood @frostedlemonwriter @yrndrgn @abditorywriting

@riveriafalll @lead-to-code @casualsuitturtle @floweryprosegarden @joeys-piano

@catwingsathena @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings @anaisbebe

@drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @tiredpapergirl @pastelpinkhobbies @a-mimsy-borogove @the-letterbox-archives @corinneglass @darkluminosity @kuebiko-writing (so sorry for the super late addition!)

[m4rs-ex3]

the season 7 quotes ever: absolute poetic epic downright INSANE straight BARS edition

“history has a way of burying the ugly truths of those who write it.”

“all children have a true heart. but as we grow up, we are forced to make choices, sacrifices, compromises. and they change us forever. childhood innocence gives way to something… complicated.”

“we are watchers. observers. the heavens reveal their secrets to us only because we have made a sacred promise that we will never interfere.” “well… i never promised.”

“it took more than love. i had to work to unravel all of the prejudices, all the hatred i’d learned in my upbringing. it wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.”

“i have seen generations of humans and elves accept that darkness lurks in all of us beside the light. there is no black or white, only shades of gray. we must all carry complexity. but please, believe me, there is beauty in this burden. your heart will be a little heavier. but now, there will be no more half-truths."

“i have to stop you.” “i know you have to try.”

“you say i should believe you because you are great and ancient, that i’m too young to see clearly. i think it’s the other way around. you’ve spent so long seeing the world through a lens of hate that you can’t see any other way to get what you want. but i can.”

"Aaravos said that this would change me, but i love myself the way i am. and if i let myself to change to someone i don’t even like, i’m not… i’m not really the person you fell in love with anymore, am i?”

“the wars only stopped when there was nothing left to fight for.”

“it’s a little singed, but, other than that, fit for a king.” “king of what? king of ashes?”

“this is the High Mage of Katolis. we all know his name.”

"you pledged your blood for justice. but what is justice? the king died that night. a life for a life. is that justice? how much suffering is enough to pay for the mistakes we’ve made? i don’t have the answers. and i’m so, so sorry."

"we all made mistakes. but we don’t have to keep making them.”

“hate me all you want, Karim. i will not shed a tear on the day of your execution. but Janai will.”

“well, King Ezran, how determined are you to stop me?”

“you cannot carry his pain for him. your suffering will not mend his wounds.”

“now what?” “now, we wait for Callum to catch his breath. and then, he will decide whether you live or die.”

“noble fools are still fools."

“each of us pledged a part of ourselves for that mission. your son pledged his blood for justice. and the thing is, no one should have to spill their blood for justice.”

"i was trained to accept that i was already dead, so that i might carry out my dark work without fear. but… i am not dead. i am alive! i have a family i love. i have so much to lose, the very things i took from you.”

“i never asked for this. i wasn’t ready to be a king, i’m just a kid. that day changed me forever.”

[wowbright]

Chapter 18: Busy

Figureskating!Blaine/designer!Kurt Olympics AU for december klaine fanworks challenge. Also on AO3.

You might expect an Olympian at the Olympics to be incredibly busy, but for Blaine’s first few days at Sochi, he didn't have much to do as he waited for the games to start besides unpack, tour the facilities, chitchat in Russian with any Russian who would speak to him, and play foosball in the lounge with Mike and Sam (who had become far less insufferable since the backflip incident).

Blaine wanted to go into Sochi proper and see if he could find any locals to talk to about the effect of all the new construction, but it was an hour drive each way—and even though he didn't have much to do, the few things he did have scheduled were sprinkled throughout the day. He slept a lot and practiced a little and managed to escape the Olympic village with a bunch of teammates long enough to go on a hike in the foothills. The park looked absolutely nothing like Garden of the Gods, but it reminded him of being with Kurt anyway, and he felt an ache in his chest that he simultaneously wished would go away and also wanted to wallow in because it was so new and precious. He snapped a photo of the waterfall and sent it to Kurt with a text that said Wish you were here and then immediately regretted sending such an unoriginal sentiment to such an original person, so then he sent another message saying I ache when I think of you and I love it and wondered if maybe that was too much but whoops he had already sent it.

I might be a bad person was the next message Blaine received from Kurt when he was back in the Olympic village. Blaine wondered if his texts from the park had failed to transmit.

What happened? Blaine asked.

Because I like the fact that you ache. It means I'm not alone in the feeling.

The feeling of missing you? Blaine texted, half flirtatious and half concerned that was what Kurt literally meant.

You’re cute, Kurt texted back. It’s not me that I’m missing. And then, a while later, Sue thinks I'm distracting you.

Ugh. So that’s why she had interfered with Blaine’s last conversation with Kurt in Colorado Springs. Not to talk about costumes or trip logistics. But to— Did she threaten you?

It took a few moments for Kurt to respond. Unsure. Her tone was kind of threatening, and she did say something about punching me in the face if I kept you from medaling, but she also promised to get me a kitty cat I would fall in love with if you didn’t medal. Sue is very confusing.

I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's because I was late to that meeting. But you're not a distraction. At least, not in a bad way. If anything, Kurt was an inspiration. Before Kurt, Blaine had been approaching the Olympics half-heartedly. And then Kurt had shown up, and by the simple act of being himself, he had helped Blaine remember why he had fallen in love with figure skating in the first place. The way Kurt’s eyes lit up when he had a new idea, the way he talked about the process of co-creation inherent in costume design, the obvious joy he felt in bringing a shared vision to life—it reminded Blaine on a visceral level that what he was doing was art, and art could transform lives.

When Blaine had been younger, his dreams had so much bigger than figure skating. He’d wanted to help people through his art. Giving people a respite from their day-to-day struggles by having something beautiful to look at was part of it, of course. But it was more than that. He’d wanted to be a person gay kids who were in the closet and multiracial kids who wondered where they fit in could look to and feel a spark of hope, knowing that there was someone famous and respected who was like them. That's why he wanted to be a champion—not for the bragging rights, but so he could inspire others.

Those feelings had motivated Blaine through most of his career. But recently, he’d lost sight of them. Maybe they got buried under all the dysfunctional stuff with Eli, or maybe it was a natural period of burnout after more than a decade of pushing himself and being pushed. In any case, he had stopped caring about winning. Sure, he told himself that he wanted to win. But deep inside, he had the niggling thought: What did it matter, who got bronze or silver or gold? Every year, the competitions came and went and the medals inevitably ended up with somebody. Why should he care if he was one of them?

Those doubts had haunted his performance in the seasons prior to the Olympics. The only thing that had kept him going was the challenge of adding more rotations to his jumps and trying to make the odd new spin combinations Sue kept coming up with work. In retrospect, it was a miracle he had medaled at all, and even more of a miracle he was now here in Sochi. Sam had been right about one thing. Blaine hadn't earned his place on the team. He was a second stringer who made it to the top three only by dint of someone more deserving getting injured. And even after his place had been secured, even with Sue doing every weird thing she could think of to motivate him, even after designing  programs with the goal of reviving the energy and focus of his younger days—even with all that, he’d kept thinking that maybe it was his time to fade into the background and let the likes of Sam Evans and Yuzuru Hanyu take over the sport.

And then Kurt had shown up and put Blaine back in touch with his heart.

In those private moments in the costume room, they had talked about the boycotts and the media frenzy and how fatiguing it was sometimes, wondering if there would ever come a day when politicians who were failing to address the real problems affecting their constituencies would stop using random minorities as scapegoats. It was all so impersonal and calculating, and yet the effects of it were deeply personal, transforming real people's lives, making it harder to live and breathe and just get by in the day-to-day, much less to find happiness.

But somehow, Blaine was finding happiness anyway. He wanted to help others find it, too. It was the most beautiful sort of defiance, to live and love and create in a world that wanted you to believe you were nothing.

You inspire me to be better, Kurt. I don't know how I would do this without you.

You've done it plenty of times before without me.

No, I haven't. This time is different.

How?

Blaine wasn't sure how to distill it into words that would fit on a phone screen. Because I'm different and the world is different. It's about something much bigger than me.

I think I get it, Kurt texted. I'm glad I can be there for you. I want to be.

~~~

If anyone was a distraction Sue should be worried about, it was Cooper. Before that interview at the Olympic Training Center and every day after, Cooper had bombarded Blaine with messages like Whenever you want to make a public statement I'm ready. And even though Blaine deleted every one of them, he couldn't delete the pain of receiving them. But Cooper was so single minded. He put his entire identity into his work. When he'd been in the NHL, everything was always about the NHL. And now that he was sportscaster, it was all about that.

ButAll Blaine wanted from his brother was for him to be like other people's brothers, sending him stupid texts about the latest episode of Homeland or his obsession with playing The Last of Us or even, you know, wishing him good luck.

Blaine wanted to believe that Cooper meant well. That this was his way of reaching out and saying I see you, but I don't know how to have a conversation that does not tie back to my identity as a media figure, so even my best efforts at communicating with you in a supportive manner will be couched in those terms.

That’s how Cooper’s support had always been packaged. Back when Blaine had decided to come out publicly, Cooper had run interference with their parents. “Of course we support you, Blaine,” his mother had said. “But what you do in private should stay private. You know, you should talk to Brian Boitano before you do anything rash. There’s a reason he never came out publicly. It would have ruined his career.”

But Cooper, who had already been in the public eye for nearly a decade at that point, had used his career in the NHL to persuade their parents to support Blaine. If he didn't come out, Cooper explained, he would be plagued with incessant questions about if he was dating and who was his girlfriend, and he wouldn't be able to answer any of them honestly. And since Blaine was absolutely terrible at lying, the public would know he was lying, opening him up to rumors and speculation and scandal. If Blaine wasn't keeping any secrets, he wouldn't have to worry about any of those things.

Blaine shouldn��t look askance at that. It was the right thing to say to their parents. They wouldn't have been persuaded by emotional appeals or arguments about integrity and being true to yourself. Blaine had already tried those. And to be fair to Cooper, sometimes he actually could say something nice and supportive without referring back to himself. After that taxing conversation with their parents, Cooper had said privately to Blaine, “I'm so sorry our parents are like this. I can't imagine what it’s like for you. But I’m glad you’re my brother. Our parents need to stop being such homophobes. They should be proud of you for who you are, not just your skating. I am.”

And Blaine had thought Cooper was being a little harsh, because their parents weren't virulent homophobes; they were the milder kind, the kind that could have gay friends and be fine with it, but for whom having a gay son was inconvenient and disturbing because it upended their expectations for a daughter-in-law and grandchildren and heteronormative Christmas photos. They we're proud of him in their own way. But also, they would have preferred him to be more like Cooper.

But Cooper didn't need Blaine to be like Cooper. So Blaine had cried and Cooper had hugged him, and even Cooper cried a little, and Blaine hadn't felt this close to his older brother since Cooper first taught him how to skate.

Blaine wanted to believe that Cooper was trying to be supportive again, to offer Blaine the opportunity to say what was on his mind publicly so that it didn't seep out in unproductive ways. But what could Blaine say that would make a difference? His teammate Ashley Wagner had already told the Today show “it’s horrible the treatment the LGBT community gets in Russia,’’ and Brian Boitano had finally come out and been appointed by President Obama to the U.S. presidential Olympic delegation along with already-out Billie Jean king and Caitlin Caho. Weren't those pretty big statements in themselves? Blaine didn't know what words he could add. Maybe the biggest F-you he could give to Putin would be winning the gold.

The day Kurt was supposed to arrive in Sochi but didn’t because his flight was delayed, Cooper texted, You speaking up could help people.

If Kurt had been there—if Blaine had picked him up at the airport that morning and Blaine had sat contentedly in the corner of his hotel room as he unpacked and they had gone to lunch and then for a walk along the Black Sea—Blaine would have had someone to talk with about this. Sure, there was Mike, but he had his own pressures to deal with right now. And there was Sebastian, but they didn't really talk about this kind of thing. But with Kurt, Blaine felt like he could talk about anything, even the parts of himself he was unsure about and didn't understand.

It shouldn't only be that way with Kurt. Family was supposed to be like that, too.

This time, Blaine didn't delete the text. He texted back, You know what would help? If I could talk to you without it turning into a story. I want you to be my brother, not my interviewer. If you can't do that, stop messaging me.

~~~

That night, Blaine woke up only a couple hours after going to bed. He’d been dreaming about being with Kurt in the Garden of the Gods, only in this dream it was summer and warm, and sometimes the sunset shone through the rocks, lighting everything up in pink and orange, and sometimes it was night and the Aurora Borealis illuminated the dark with dazzling streaks of green and purple. Kurt had on short sleeves and an ascot—a tantalizing blend of skin revealed and hidden—and they were holding hands, and Kurt said something that made Blaine’s heart ache in that increasingly familiar, delicious way, and Blaine ran his fingers over the Kurt’s forearm and Kurt smiled and Blaine's heart overflowed and he said, “This is my home, Kurt,” and Kurt understood exactly what he meant.

Blaine lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The curtains were flimsy, letting plenty of light into the room and Blaine’s eyes now that he had pulled his sleeping mask off. Inside him, another long-buried dream was awakening. Once upon a time, Blaine had dreamt of sharing his life with someone—really sharing his life, not just his bed and his body, but his hopes and aspirations, too. He’d dreamt of having a husband and creating a home that would nurture them both, a sanctuary where they could explore life together and bring out the best in each other, where every day Blaine would discover something new about himself and also be challenged to look beyond himself as he learned to understand the world through another person's eyes.

He'd gotten glimpses of that in some of his relationships. As a teenager falling in love for the first time, he’d been so open and generous and naïve. But with each breakup, he’d pulled his armor a little tighter around himself, always holding something back because he knew he would eventually get hurt, and the blows would cause less harm than if he never revealed the parts of himself that were vulnerable.

Around Kurt, Blaine didn't feel a need for armor. He wanted Kurt to see and know everything. And sure, that was risky.

But this time, with this person, it would hurt more to never take the risk.

Blaine lay in bed for ten minutes, maybe twenty, listening to Mike snore and thinking about Kurt, before realizing he was not going to fall back asleep anytime soon. His body was convinced it was early afternoon, and Blaine didn't feel like fighting it. It wasn't like he had to go to bed early and get up early like he did back in the U.S., anyway. All his slots were scheduled for late afternoon or evening. As long as he was adjusted enough to feel awake and revived for those, it wouldn't matter if he slept when it was dark or light.

Besides, Blaine had something better to do than sleep.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, tiptoed into the bathroom, and shut the door. It was a nice bathroom, with walls covered floor to ceiling in large twenty- by forty-centimeter tiles like you’d find in a fancy hotel—way more posh than Blaine had ever seen in a normal Russian apartment. He wondered if the people who’d been kicked out of their homes to make way for the Olympic complex would move in here after the games were over, or if the luxe bathrooms would go empty and unused while people who could benefit from them languished in substandard housing.

Blaine hated the Olympics sometimes.

He checked his phone to see if Kurt’s final plane had landed in Sochi yet. No. It was still in the air, and with customs, he likely wouldn't arrive at his hotel for another couple hours at least.

Which gave Blaine time.

He composed a text.

Sebastian, I have an idea.

~~~

“Before you check in, I have good news and bad news,” Sebastian said when Kurt stepped into the lobby with his customs-cleared luggage and the strong desire to take his travel frustrations out on someone. He just wanted to see Blaine. And obviously he’d known Blaine wasn't going to be here because it was the middle of the night, and that was completely logical, especially because they weren't even technically boyfriends or anything yet, and Kurt hadn’t even known Blaine a few weeks ago so really he should be able to survive just fine another day without him, but also Blaine made everything lighter and better and more joyful and …

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Kurt said. He figured whatever the bad news was, it couldn't be that bad: Blaine was alive and healthy; they'd been sending each other flirty and suggestive texts about their mutual versatility just minutes before when Kurt had still been in taxi. “Why are you even awake?”

“I'm awake because I love the nightlife, and I like to boogie. Also, it can’t wait. You’re staying in my room.”

 “You’re kidding me.”

“Well, it's a suite, technically. One door, two rooms. I'm being nice and giving you the bedroom with the door that actually closes.”

That was better than sharing a single room, or much worse, a bed. As long as the sheets had been changed since Sebastian had last used them. But— “I've been through four different airports in two days and you probably thought I was thrilled to be rerouted through Charles de Gaulle since I actually speak French, but in Munich they have sleeping pods you can rent, where in Paris it was just benches or the floor, and I missed my flight in Belgrade and the next one was late and they made me go through customs just so I could go to a hotel and shower and sleep in an actual bed for a few hours, and I’m starting to get a tiny grasp on Cyrillic but that doesn't really help when I don't actually know what any of the words mean, and I tried to sleep some more on the airplane to get adjusted to the new time zone but the turbulence was insane and also the person next to me was eating cayenne covered edamame even though they clearly couldn't handle the heat because they coughed every single time they swallowed and kept asking the flight attendant for more milk and water, so of course every time the seat belt lights went off they were climbing over me to get to the bathroom, seriously I don't understand how a four-hour flight can be so miserable but I hate people and I hate everyone and I'm supposed to have my own room.”

Sebastian smiled. He smiled. As if Kurt’s irritation was amusing. “Look, I'm not thrilled about this either. But somehow among the most expensive Olympic preparations the world has ever known, somebody forgot that the media would need housing too. All the hotels are overbooked. They gave your room to somebody else when you were flying over the Atlantic.”

“Fuck me.”

“No. But that brings me to the good news. Turn around.”

“Oh, yippee. A bar. I don't want a drink, Sebastian, I want— Blaine!"

Blaine was there, in the bar, smiling at him. Blaine. With his sparkling eyes and his hair that Kurt longed to touch and his beauty and kindness and generosity. He was real and physical and here. Kurt forgot that he hated everyone in the world and just wanted to be alone—or rather, a switch flicked inside of him and he no longer felt that way, because Blaine was a person and Blaine was beautiful and Kurt wanted to be with him. He abandoned his suitcase with the still-chattering Sebastian and almost ran across the lobby, his heart pounding from nerves and excitement and something that felt an awful lot like love and probably, in fact, was. No, not probably. Kurt had already known falling in love with Blaine would be inevitable. Here it was.

“Care to join me?” Blaine said, his expression radiant with hope and a little shyness. “I know you've had a long trip, so if not—”

“Of course I do,” Kurt said, sitting across the two-person table from Blaine and touching his shoe to Blaine’s. “It’s been too long.”

“Ahem.” That was Sebastian, holding on to Kurt’s suitcase and setting a keycard on the table. “I'm going back to the room for a minute anyway, so I guess I'll deliver your luggage there, Mr. Hummel. And then I'll be going out for a few hours. You know, in case that information is relevant to you.”

Blaine turned pink. It was precious. “Sebastian, you don't have to—”

“I have a life too, you know. I’ve made plans. The dance scene here is off the chain. The snowboarders know how to party, unlike some Olympians I know. Da svidania, boys.”

And then Sebastian was gone, and it was just the two of them, and Kurt wasn’t tired anymore.

[iamwoman-heremesmash]

Appearing out of hiding to wish happy birthday to the two best episodes of OFMD and to THIS SCENE SPECIFICALLY

[icelogged]

tagging hayden’s photos with ed tags is extremely irresponsible. stop it.

[whirlinglikeaballet]

.

[starbuck]

lord give me the strength to not be a massive cunt at work today

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Hi what do you do if you don’t like someone but they think you’re friends and talk to you like you’re friends and can’t take a hint

[tyrianlynch]

When ur disabled and ur bosses start being shitty to u and it’s very clearly bc theyre annoyed ur disabled and everyone in ur life is like “oh we’ve all dealt with bosses being shitty” but they don’t get the huuuuge different between bosses being shitty and bosses being shitty purely bc ur disabled

[deus-ex-mona]

✨baller✨ results tbh~

[todaywasamaritale]

who else is chronically online this holiday season representtttttt

[kavehater]

I can’t believe people assign Kaveh the yandere trope sometimes like that is SO ooc he literally wouldn’t ?! I mean I personally don’t care if he is or isn’t but canonically speaking bro let his own mother whom he loved so dearly to leave FOR HER SAKE even though he was so hurt by her going … he would not trap somebody like he would probably end up killing himself from guilt like are you serious 😭

[ersatz-anomaly]

I doubt this helps but I'm only attracted to short people :P Somewhere out there is the perfect match for you!

Thank you. Unfortunately until I’m finally wanted by someone for once in my stupid existence it only feels like a delusional feverdream that someone might actually desire to be around me and value my spirit and flesh.

I’m 25 and I’ve not even managed a first date or kiss. Everyone I get feelings for never feels back, and if anyone feels for me they sure aren’t saying despite the fact I am shit at picking up on hints and make sure to drop that fact in conversations every once in a while (when appropriate. Dropping something like that unprompted is kinda odd)

I’m useless and weird and unwanted and that���s how it’s always been. All I can do is just stew in my self until I finally die and the moment I finally digest my destiny being eternal loneliness I’m certain I’ll mcfucking lose it and start eating drywall

[yuttikkele]

I uhhhhh think the next art joke should be “making your OCs happy and fulfilled” instead of “my only job as a creator is to traumatize my OCs because they’re boring without it”