WIP Post #1
Seeing as we've got to wait an extra week for new Glee *sob* I thought it'd be nice to share any stories we're working on (or fanarts, or fanvids - whatever takes your fancy). So come inside and post us a little snippet of your WIP to give us a taste of what we've got to look forward to. Similarly, if you're working on something and would like an opinion on what you've got so far, you're just as welcome. Hopefully, if you're all interested we'll make this a monthly thing.
Just a few rules to keep things running smoothly:
1. Don't bash. This includes character bashing as well as author or story bashing. It's easy enough to avoid, and makes sure the comm stays happy and wonderful.
2. Authors, if you would specifically like concrit for your story, say so, otherwise some comments could be unwanted. If you're leaving concrit, make sure it is constructive and not just "OMG I hate this".
3. Please write in your headers the rating of the fic, and any warnings or spoilers for the last episode aired. Remember, not all countries are as up to date as the US.
4. Try to stay as on topic as possible, or my inbox won't be your friend
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Here is a little taster of what I'm working on, though I have no idea when it'll be done:
“Practice room. Now."
The buzz of Blaine's phone cuts though the silence of his studying. He glances around nervously - cells are banned in the library - and catches the librarian's disapproving glare. He mouths a quick 'sorry' and grabs his books, sprinting towards the Warbler's room.
There isn't anything strange about the request; the boys will often wile away free periods trying out new arrangements, but David is a big believer in grammar - even in texts - and the directness of the message is definitely unusual.
“I hope this is worth almost getting banned from the libr-" Blaine busts into the room, dumping his books on the piano. He expects to see Wes and David poring over sheet music or scribbling down ideas for tonight's practice. He doesn't expect to see Kurt on the couch leaning heavily against Wes' shoulder, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Blaine quickly closes the gap between them and kneels down in front of his boyfriend. "Kurt," he whispers, noticing pain ghosting across the younger boy's face. "Baby, what is it? What's wrong?" Kurt doesn't answer, turning his face further into Wes' shoulder.
“We found him just after third period; he said his head hurt. We tried to get him to go see the nurse but he didn't want to move.”
Blaine moves to hold Kurt's shaking hand, the action brushing the sleeve of his blazer further up his wrist.
He blanches and can suddenly hear his heart drumming in his ears.
“Never mind the nurse, look.” He pushes Kurt's sleeve up to reveal the purple rash speckling his forearm. “Kurt, baby, listen to me,” he gently slaps the soprano's cheek, trying to remember the signs he should look for.
“Kurt, is the light hurting your eyes? Do you feel sick?” He nods, wincing at the pain in his neck. Blaine immediately scoops his arms under Kurt's knees and shoulders and runs towards the main doors and the parking lot.
