A Great Big World - Already Home (Starring Darren Criss & Jessica Szohr)




prettylittlegleelover:

life-loss-leaving:

Just saw the big changes on Lea’s twitter. Just wanna say one thing about that: OK. C’mon. “Writer”, Lea? WRITER ? Chris is a writer, you just slung together a few things to make a book and promote yourself. Let’s be real. That’s not writing. Not the kind of writing you would put on your card.

Lea is writing in a different genre than Chris but it is still writing. Is Jenna’s book just a few things ‘slung’ together to ‘promote’ herself too? What about every celebrity/public figure memoir ever? 

Oh my god. First of all, yeah maybe I was a little bit bitter last night, too much food from Easter lunch - BUT, as I said in another reblog-the-reblog post, I wasn’t referring to the genre, I referring to the experience, that’s all. I though it was funny that all of sudden some people can consider themselves as writers. Wait a little bit and then call yourself whatever you want. About the “slung together” thing, that’s my own opinion, but I do believe there’s a little bit of difference between writing something entirely on your own, creating something “from scratch” and writing those biographies//guides-to-be- whatever things. —-peace.




life-loss-leaving:

Just saw the big changes on Lea’s twitter. Just wanna say one thing about that: OK. C’mon. “Writer”, Lea? WRITER ? Chris is a writer, you just slung together a few things to make a book and promote yourself. Let’s be real. That’s not writing. Not the kind of writing you…

That’s not what I meant at all. I said Chris because he was the first that I thought of, in relation to her. I just find it funny that someone all of sudden can define themselves as writer, for something that has yet to come out, that’s all. That doesn’t mean that she can’t write whatever she wants, however she likes, I just didn’t like the whole “boom! I’m a writer!” - thought it was pretty funny tbh. And I think that, by reading the whole post, you could definitely catch that I have absolutely nothing against her. You can like one thing about a person and dislike another. There’s nothing wrong with that.

2 hours ago with 8 notes — via bluehightide, © life-loss-leaving



jhennel1:

life-loss-leaving:

Just saw the big changes on Lea’s twitter. Just wanna say one thing about that: OK. C’mon. “Writer”, Lea? WRITER ? Chris is a writer, you just slung together a few things to make a book and promote yourself. Let’s be real. That’s not writing. Not the kind of writing you would put on your card.

So you mean to tell me in order to be considered a writer one has to write fairy tales, so I guess what your saying is that people who write self help books, autobiographies or even something as simple as a cook book shouldn’t have the audacity to consider it even call themselves an author or a writer.

No, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that before you call yourself a writer maybe you should wait a little bit? When I mentioned Chris, I wasn’t referring to the genre he writes, I was referring to the experience he has. And Chris didn’t only write fairy tales, you know…
I just thought that it was funny that all of sudden, for one book that is yet to come out - BOOM! WRITER! that’s the thing that made me laugh, that’s all.

2 hours ago with 8 notes — via jhennel1, © life-loss-leaving



daltoneering:

alianne asked: Klaine, #10 … pinning the other against a wall

“I swear to God, Blaine, you go near my cheesecake one more time and I will annihilate you!”

Kurt flung his bag down onto the kitchen chair, blood boiling and legs aching and absolutely fucking exhausted, and glared at his husband. His husband, who was currently licking cream cheese off his fingers as surreptitiously as possible, all the while trying to stare him down defiantly.

“It’s not your cheesecake, Kurt, it was just a cheesecake that was in the fridge. I would think that I would be allowed to eat something out of my own refrigerator without having to fucking ask permission first!”

Kurt sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. “Is there any left?”

“…No?”

“Fuck!”

Read More

11 hours ago with 99 notes — via daltoneering



fisteleanor:

ians hand on mickeys lower back is the only thing i care about

11 hours ago with 61 notes — via xthatsclaudia, © fisteleanor



Anonymous → prompts - klaine's first i love you after they got back together or the first time kurt said i love you first :)

musingsonaredradish:

Blaine was bound and determined to wait Kurt out, this time. 

They’d been back together for 2 hours and 37 minutes and everything within him was dying to spin Kurt around, kissing him senseless as he told him just how much he loved him. But he’d said it first the first time, back in the Lima Bean, and though they’d said they love each other a couple times during their time apart, it hadn’t been the same kind of “I love yous.” Though Blaine felt confident that Kurt was fully onboard with their reunion, he didn’t want to push his luck. He’d let Kurt make that next move. 

"You look a little—" Kurt began, before pulling his face into an exaggerated pout. They were walking, hand-in-hand once more, through the halls of McKinley. They were headed toward Blaine’s locker, where they were going to grab Blaine’s things and head out to spend the rest of the day together. 

"No, I’m good," Blaine said, smiling broadly. Kurt smiled in return. "Where to first?"

"Lima Bean," Kurt said with an assured nod of his head. "I need some coffee to counterbalance all that lemonade."

They drove to the Lima Bean together in Blaine’s car, just like old times. Blaine couldn’t keep himself from singing along with every song on the radio at the top of his lungs, making Kurt laugh Blaine’s favorite of Kurt’s laughs. They strolled into the Lima Bean and got into line. When they reached the front, Kurt immediately placed their order without even a glance at Blaine. 

"You know my coffee order," Blaine said, and Kurt just smiled his teasing, flirty smile. 

They grabbed their drinks and Kurt led them to a table in the center of the floor. Blaine held out Kurt’s chair for him before taking his seat. They sat for a few seconds, just grinning at each other, before Blaine took a sip of his medium drip.

"I love you," Kurt said as soon as the cup hit Blaine’s lips. Blaine startled, holding a gulp of hot coffee in his mouth as he tried not to inhale it instead. He swallowed and looked up at Kurt, who was grinning like a fox.

"You did that on purpose," Blaine said, and Kurt laughed.

"I’ve always wanted to get you back for that," Kurt replied. "Saying I love you for the first time when I was taking a sip of coffee."

"You’re terrible," Blaine replied, and Kurt nodded.

"I am," Kurt said. "But you love me."

"I do," Blaine said. "And you love me."

Kurt reached out to take Blaine’s hand in his. “I do.”

11 hours ago with 113 notes — via missbeizy, © musingsonaredradish



amyisaravenclaw → My prompt is Kurt drunk calling Blaine to tell him how pretty he is :D

musingsonaredradish:

Blaine’s phone rang just after midnight. Even though they’d been back together (and engaged!) for weeks now, Blaine still got a momentary shock of elated joy at seeing Kurt’s name on his phone. He suspected he’d feel like that for a good long time. 

"Hey," he said as he picked up the call. "This is a surprise, I thought you were out with the band celebrating your first big performance."

"Blaaaaaaaaine!" Kurt said, drawling out his name. "Blaaaaine, I was just thinking about you."

"I would imagine that’s why you called," Blaine said, smiling at sound of his fiance’s giggle. 

"I called you! That’s right!" Kurt said. "Because I have something very, verrrry important to tell you."

"What’s that?" Blaine said, lying back on his bed with his free arm bent behind his head. "You’re drunk."

"Pffft, not that drunk, not really, what?" Kurt said. "What is drunk, anyway?"

"What did you have to tell me?" Blaine asked. Kurt cleared his throat. 

"First," Kurt said. "I love you."

Blaine smiled. “I love you, too.”

"Second," Kurt replied. "I got rid of the tongue ring."

Blaine knew this already—it had gotten in the way of Kurt’s voice lessons and the way he could enunciate as a singer—but Blaine didn’t remind Kurt of this. “Probably for the best.”

"FINNNNAAALLY," Kurt sing-songed, "The piece de resistance. I have conducted a scientific study of the entirety of New York City and I have determined that YOUUUUU are the prettiest."

Blaine barked out a laugh, a warm flush flooding his cheeks. “Kurt.”

"I’m serious," Kurt said. "I have shown your picture to all the girls at the bar tonight and they were all extremely jealous of my extremely attractive husband-to-be."

Blaine sighed happily and rolled onto his side. “Well, my scientific studies show that my husband-to-be is pretty hot himself.”

Kurt giggled again. “You’re so pretty. I miss looking at you. We should Skype.”

Blaine smiled. “Meet you on the computer in five.”

11 hours ago with 143 notes — via missbeizy, © musingsonaredradish



genuinewarmdecentfeeling → Kurt's been keeping track of how many times he and Blaine have sex because he wants to do something special for their 100th but then when Blaine moves to NY he loses count

musingsonaredradish:

There was a little notebook that Kurt kept in his bedside drawer. Blaine had seen it a thousand times—well, not a thousand times, they weren’t that active yet, but he still saw it a lot, every time he reached in the draw for condoms or lube. There wasn’t much in it that he could tell—he never really took the time to peruse it or anything while they were en route to intercourse because he had other things on his mind. 

Once Blaine moved in with Kurt, however, Blaine suddenly had plenty of time and access to the little notebook. He flipped it open one day, feeling very, very guilty but also very, very curious. All that existed on the pages were 50 little hashmarks. Blaine could make no sense of them.

As time went on, however, he noticed the hashmarks increasing, rather rapidly. Within the first two weeks of Blaine living in New York the number had already grown to 65. Blaine could not make sense of it.

It didn’t make sense, in fact, until the day he came home to find Kurt sitting with the notebook in his lap and a pencil in his hand, counting rapidly on his fingers. 

"What’s going on?" Blaine asked. Kurt exhaled. 

"How many times did we have sex last weekend?" Kurt asked. Blaine’s brow furrowed.

"Sex, or orgasms?" Blaine asked. "Like how do you separate the encounters?"

"I don’t know!" Kurt said, throwing the notebook across the room. "It’s all ruined."

Blaine walked over and picked up the notebook, looking at the ever-growing number of hashmarks. Suddenly, it all made sense. “Kurt, are you keeping track of how often we have sex?”

"I was trying to," Kurt said, flopping back on the bed. "But now that we live together we have sex too often! It all kind of runs together. It feels like we are always having sex and we never stop."

Blaine walked over to the bed, dropping a knee onto the mattress. “Is that a bad thing?”

Kurt looked up at Blaine, his eyes wide and interested. “No. Not at all.”

"Why does it matter, anyway?" Blaine said, dropping the notebook onto the nightstand. 

"Because I was planning something special for our 100th," Kurt said, rolling his eyes closed. Blaine grinned.

"Was it kinky?" Blaine asked, leaning in over Kurt, who swatted at his arm.

"It doesn’t matter, you’ll never know," Kurt said, blinking his eyes open. Blaine grinned.

"That’s okay," Blaine replied. "Every time with you is special."

Kurt laughed, but his whole face softened. “Show me.”

And Blaine did.

11 hours ago with 264 notes — via missbeizy, © musingsonaredradish



voicelikehelvetica → um ummmm ummm idk if this works, but there's a picture I saw the other day, here: 2gether-4ever-and-much-longer*tumblr*com/post/68574004803/141 and it made me think of a first meeting au, kurt's a fashion designer and blaine hits his scooter, and while he's helping kurt pick things up--- boom. they kiss.

musingsonaredradish:

Kurt was having the time of his life. 

He had been in Italy for two weeks, and they had been the best two weeks of his life. He was there for a four-week long intensive study abroad course for fashion design and he was loving every second of it. He didn’t speak much Italian, it was true, but the course was through an English-speaking university so he was able to get away with a lot of bare-bones phrases and gestures.

He had rented a scooter for the day to head out to the Italian countryside to do some sketching on his day off. He wasn’t sure where he was going, exactly, but he knew how to ask for a bathroom and a gas station and a pizza, so he figured he was mostly all set. The first leg of his trip—the getting there part—was a success. He found a small town with picturesque cliffs overlooking the seaside, and he couldn’t help but do a little landscaping sketching in-between his fashion sketches.

He found a tiny, cozy cafe and ate some small dishes and drank some wine, then walked around until he felt sober enough to head back to his dorm room. He had just gotten his scooter in gear and moving at a slow pace when he was suddenly hit by a force that sent him flying onto the brick street. 

"Mi scusi!" a voice called from the small red car that had apparently hit him, albeit very slowly. "Mi scusi, I—"

"It’s okay," Kurt said, dusting off his jeans.

"Oh my God, you’re an American," the young man who knelt down next to him said. "I mean, you’re okay, I think. You are okay?"

"I’m fine," Kurt said, finally looking up at the bright hazel eyes of the boy next to him. They were wide, earnest, and completely captivating. "You weren’t going that fast."

"I was trying to park," the young man said, gesturing at the red car. "I hit accelerate instead of break, I don’t know what I was thinking."

"Are the pedals in different places here?" Kurt asked, checking for scrapes on his hands. 

"No, no, the pedals are in the same place," the young man said, suddenly looking bashful. "I was just distracted, I guess."

"The scenery is beautiful," Kurt said, taking in the strong jaw and plush lips of the boy’s face. The boy nodded, before pulling one of those plush lips in between his teeth. 

"I wasn’t looking at the scenery," the boy said, before sending a coy glance up through his lashes at Kurt. Oh, Kurt thought. Oh.

"What were you looking at?" Kurt asked, his voice breathless and airy even to his own ears. The boy flushed, eyes down, then up through his lashes once more.

"You," he replied, blinking his wide hazel eyes so enticingly Kurt thought he might die. 

"Oh," Kurt replied. 

"I’m sorry," the young man said. "I’m—I’m Blaine."

"Kurt," Kurt replied, extending his hand. Blaine took it, softly, holding it instead of shaking it. 

"I just wanted you to know my name," Blaine said, looking distinctly at Kurt’s mouth, "So it’s less creepy when I do this."

Kurt was about to reply but suddenly Blaine’s mouth was on his, and Blaine’s hands were on his face, caressing his jaw with a feather-light touch. Kurt exhaled into the kiss, lowering himself down further and drawing Blaine down with him. Kurt moved his hands up to caress Blaine’s face in turn as Blaine’s hands moved further down his torso in a better attempt at easing them down into a recline. 

Kurt didn’t even care that his sketches were spread on the street beside him, so lost was he in the moment. 

Kurt was definitely having the time of his life.

11 hours ago with 69 notes — via missbeizy, © musingsonaredradish



musexmoirai → Prompt because your 05x16 reaction fic made me sad: A date night set sometime after 05x16 where Kurt (inadvertently?) reveals he knows he's not Blaine's "type" and Blaine thoroughly debunks that notion. (You don't have to write this if you don't want to.)

musingsonaredradish:

Things get back to normal but not quite after their talk in the loft. Kurt waits for Blaine at the diner for a walk to class; Blaine comes over to the loft after like usual. Blaine’s diet is changing though he still has the occasional cronut (“I can’t stop going in, Kurt, they miss me!”) and Kurt tries to bend his own diet rules a little more often (“Everything in moderation,” he says before tucking into a gyro from a street vendor with gusto). They add walks around the park to their weekly date activities and Blaine starts joining in on the morning pushups. 

All in all things are well. At least on the surface. 

There’s still a part of Blaine that worries when Kurt gets noticed by an attractive guy, still a part that feels like he hasn’t caught up yet. And there’s still a big part of Kurt that knows that Blaine is compromising by being with him instead of someone more physically his type. 

But Kurt keeps it in, for as long as he can, until they’re leaving a showing of Captain America 2 and Blaine can’t stop talking about Chris Evans’ arms. And his chest. And his waist. And Kurt grows steadily quieter.

"Kurt?" Blaine says, when Kurt stops responding to his comments. "You okay?"

"Of course," Kurt says, tilting his head coyly to his chin to emphasize just how okay he is. Blaine stops walking. "What?"

"Ok, you only do that move when you’re upset about something," Blaine says, reaching to pull Kurt closer to him. "What’s wrong, did you not like the movie?"

"No, I liked the movie," Kurt says, because he did. Blaine furrows his brow. 

"Do you not think Chris Evans is attractive?" Blaine asks. "Because with your thing for Taylor Lautner I just figured—"

"No, no, he’s fine," Kurt says, shrugging his shoulder. His fingers dig tighter into Blaine’s hands. "It’s nothing. Let’s go get some sorbet and walk it off."

"Kurt," Blaine says. "Don’t shut me out."

Kurt exhales loudly. “It just hits me sometimes. How I’m not your type.”

"What?" Blaine says, his voice loud. "What are you talking about? Kurt, you are so my type. You’re the love of my life, you don’t get any more my type than that."

"I mean physically," Kurt says. "I don’t look like that."

"Like what?" Blaine says. "Like Chris Evans?"

"Or like frat boi physicals," Kurt says rolling his eyes. Blaine bits his lip, looks sad for a brief second.

"Is that what this is about?" Blaine says. "Because we never really talked about that."

"It doesn’t matter," Kurt says, trying to shut the conversation down. "I know you love me, that’s all that matters."

"I love you," Blaine says intently. "But I also think you’re hot, Kurt."

"Don’t," Kurt says, bristling. He tries to pull his hand away but Blaine won’t let him. 

"I think you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen," Blaine says, holding even tighter. "Just because I appreciate body parts on another guy doesn’t change that."

"I’m not built though," Kurt says. "And I see those guys you look at—"

"Okay, let’s clear this up," Blaine says, chuckling. "I’m not into those because I want to grope douchebag frat boys. I’m into those because I want to be the douchebag frat boys being groped. Preferably by a tall, lean, handsome doctor with perfect hair and manicured hands and fantastic fashion sense."

"Oh," Kurt says, feeling lightheaded.

"And I know you love it when I talk fratty," Blaine says, leaning in for a slow, lingering kiss. 

"Oh," Kurt exhales. 

"What say you we skip the sorbet and the walk and just head back to my place?" Blaine replies, his eyes gleaming with intent.

Kurt can’t agree fast enough.

11 hours ago with 145 notes — via missbeizy, © musingsonaredradish



Anonymous → write about burt finding out they're sexually active omggg

musingsonaredradish:

Blaine looked guilty.

"How’s it going, Anderson?" Burt said as he opened the door to let Blaine into the house. Blaine had his bookbag slung over his shoulder, ready for a night of intense studying, Kurt had said. "Kurt’s finishing up a phone call with Mercedes, said he’ll be right down."

"Oh, okay," Blaine said. "I’m fine, thank you. How are you?" Blaine followed Burt into the kitchen, where he settled down at the table, swinging his bag to the ground. 

"I’m good," Burt said. "Sorry I missed the show this weekend, we were stuck in Washington. Kurt said there’s a video, though, so I’m planning on watching it just as soon as I can."

"It’s okay," Blaine said. "the show wasn’t that great."

"It’s got you and Kurt in it, that’s all I need to know," Burt said, opening the fridge. "Want a bottle of water?"

"Yes, please," Blaine replied. Blaine still looked strange; Burt couldn’t quite put his finger on it. There was only one thing to do.

"Something happen this weekend, Blaine?" Burt asked, and Blaine’s eyes widened. 

"You mean other than the show?" Blaine asked, his voice rising in pitch.

"Yeah," Burt replied, swinging the door shut. Blaine blinked rapidly.

"I don’t—" Blaine said. "I can’t think of anything you’d…want to know, sir."

"Can you think of something I don’t want to know, then?" Burt felt a little bad at the way Blaine’s face drained of color. It wan’t enough to stop his line of questioning though. "I take it that’s a yes. You boys get drunk this weekend?"

"No, sir," Blaine said quickly, reaching for the bottle that Burt offered. "No drinking, I promise."

"Did you throw a secret party?" Burt said, and Blaine shook his head as he gulped down the water.

"No parties," Blaine said. "We didn’t even go out with the rest of the cast to Breadstix, we just went back to my place and—"

Blaine froze, a drip of water falling from the lip of the bottle to the table. Burt’s sense began tingling. 

"And what, Blaine?" Burt asked. Blaine’s eyes grew pleading, but Burt had begun growing an immunity to that particular look. He thought quickly, his mind landing on the only option.

"Aww, hell, you had sex," Burt said, and Blaine’s head collapsed hard to the tabletop. "You’re right, I don’t want to know about that."

"I tried to tell you," Blaine mumbled against the wood of the table. Burt stood up, walking away from the table.

"You should have tried harder," Burt said, putting his bottle of water back in the fridge and grabbing a beer instead. "You need to get better at lying kid, this is killing both of us."

"I’m sorry," Blaine said, lifting his head again. His face was bright red. "I just can’t, it’s like everything inside my brain freezes and all I can think is the thing I’m trying not to think!"

"I don’t know why you’re acting so cagey about it now," Burt said. "It’s not like it was the first time or anything."

Blaine groaned then, burying his face in his hands. 

"Aw, hell, Blaine, are you serious?" Burt said, wrenching the top off the bottle. "I figured you two had been at it like rabbits, what with you both being teen boys."

"Please stop talking about rabbits," Blaine whined. 

"I’m impressed, actually," Burt said. "That you waited this long."

Blaine peeked around his hands. “Thank you?”

"That doesn’t mean that study time isn’t happening at the table tonight instead of in Kurt’s room, however," Burt said. "Not while I’m in the house."

"Deal," Blaine said. "Can I have another bottle of water?"

11 hours ago with 273 notes — via missbeizy, © musingsonaredradish



kurtfer:

anon requested skank!kurt giving blaine a piggyback so here they are being giggly and happy uwu

kurtfer:

anon requested skank!kurt giving blaine a piggyback so here they are being giggly and happy uwu

11 hours ago with 395 notes — via slightestwind, © kurtfer



teamrkburtkaharris:

Picture of Gideon Scott and Harper Grace from Easter 2014.

teamrkburtkaharris:

Picture of Gideon Scott and Harper Grace from Easter 2014.

11 hours ago with 236 notes — via thatrushofjoy, © teamrkburtkaharris