It’s been forever since I did one of these . . so thanks to these folks who have tagged me in this and SevenSix/Several Sentence Sundays since the last time I did one of these! : @tailsbeth-writes , @welcometololaland; @porcelainmortal; @nocoastposts; @dizzymxlizzie ; @alasse9 ; @anincompletelist ; @onthewaytosomewhere;
I appreciate you thinking of me so much!!! . . even though the writers block for me has been annoying as hell, I love seeing what you are all working on!
Not gonna lie writing (for personal use) hasn’t been easy lately. Inspiration has come and gone in spurts (which is frustrating).
Seeing AI accusations slung at fic writers (and artists/ other fandom creators) that have ended up so bad that it’s eventually run them out of spaces that are supposed to be our fun places to congregate and share our love of fandom is irritating at hell and kind of demoralizing.
Work has not been fun - so Its back to the drawing board for another job search and revamp of my resume. ( I’m the sole income for the home at the moment) So I’m sure the work stress is not helping the writers block either.
*sigh* (sorry to bring it down a bit here)
I’ve been trying to read a lot for inspiration. (Am mid way done with Father Material by Alexis Hall and interspersing it with random fanfic that catches my eye.) But I will say, writing usually comes for a bit and then fizzles out . . so apologies on the sporadic updating of my WIPs to everyone!
One very nice plus is that I’ve had someone ask me about an old theatre piece I wrote for college . . they want to film it this month and I’ve been working on that too.
But below is some snippets I’ve been able to crank out lately under the cut . .for klaine, sebadam and firstprince.
1.) Working on a one shot for the Glee Rare Pair Summer challenge ( cc @gleefulpoppet). based on a SebAdam prompt : 🎱 somnophilia / staying quiet / makeshift gag
By the time Adam got back to their flat, ( it’s an apartment, you’re in the states . . he could easily hear Sebastian snark back in his head), it was way past midnight. All but a few lights were shut off, leaving Adam a soft dimly lit foyer to navigate once he opened the door. He toed his shoes off, lining them carefully by Seb’s in their hall closet and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it up as well.
As Adam slid his house keys into the small glass bowl , he spied a small potted plant resting on the kitchen counter, one that hadn’t been there that morning. The cheery yellow blooms made Adam’s heart ache a bit, recognizing the same primroses that were found in abundance in his mum’s small garden at home in England. The pot had a bright red ribbon around it, attached to a small note which read:
Happy Anniversary, beautiful.
Thought you’d like this so you wouldn’t feel so homesick. The rest of your present is waiting for you in the bedroom. Feel free to open it if I’m asleep . . you know I won’t mind.
Love you always,
Seb
Adam smiled to himself as he traced the petals of one of the flowers with his fingertips. Even stressed and snarky, his boyfriend always could throw him for a loop and show him for how tender and sentimental he could be.
***
With careful, gentle steps, Adam crept quietly into the bedroom, not wanting to wake Sebastian. He only made it to the doorway when he stopped in his tracks, suddenly rendered breathless.
There was his boyfriend, sound asleep and gloriously naked . . stretched out on their bed.
“Fuck,” Adam muttered as his gaze trailed over Sebastian’s toned, lithe form. Seb was lying on his stomach, his arms folded under the pillow his head rested upon. His face was smoothed into a serene expression, as if all of the compounded work related stress had washed away as he slept.
His ass ( his perfect, round, firm, bitable ass, Adam reminded himself) faced upward, a pillow propped underneath his hips, causing one of the most favorite part of Seb’s body presented to Adam straight as he walked through the door.
And beside him, a new bottle of their favorite lube, decorated with another bow and a note that read in large letters ( in Sebastian’s very recognizable scrawl: Happy Anniversary.
2.) from my FirstPrince WIP Puppy Love (cc @omgbarbiegurl)
Raf sniffed happily as he watched his Tia Nora take another tray of hors d'oeuvres out of the oven. Nora slid them onto a platter, turning a blind eye as she saw Raf sneakily steal a few pigs in a blanket from another dish nearby. The little boy popped them into his mouth, munching away happily.
“Tia Nora,“ Raf asked as he looked for something else to snack on. “Have you heard from Mr. Henry? Is he still away for Christmas?” Raf sniffed a mini quiche he had picked up, grimaced and tossed it over his shoulder.
Nora peered into her refrigerator, mentally counting the cans of soda and bottles of beer and wine chilling there. “No, sweetie. I think he’s coming back sometime today.” She cleared her throat loudly. “And I know you are picking up that piece of food I saw you toss away, right?”
Raf quickly scrambled to locate the discarded tidbit and rushed to toss it in the trash bin.
“How did you know?” he asked, wide eyed. Raf swore Tia Nora was magic . . . or maybe she just had eyes hidden in the back of her head. She never missed anything.
“I always know, Raf.”
The little boy looked at Nora’s front door longingly. “Do you think Mr. Henry might be back now?”
“Oh, I don’t know, tiny turtle,” Nora said as her mind began calculating the number of ice cubes currently in her freezer and debating whether or not to send Alex on an ice run. “Maybe? I really haven’t heard him. But to be honest, I’ve been really busy today. He might have come home while I was vacuuming.”
“I miss David,“ the little boy whined slightly, resting his head on his crossed hands as he swung his dangling feet back and forth from his perch on the stool at the counter.
Nora turned around to catch the forlorn look on Raf’s face. “I do too,” she confided.
“Do you still have that Christmas present we bought for him?”
“Of course!” she said, mock aghast. “I want to be there when you give it to him.”
“Do you think he’ll like it?”
“You picked it out, sweetheart. Of course he’ll love it.”
3.) from my Klaine WIP missed connections ( cc @cryscendo)
“Obviously, they recognized my superior creative vision,” Goolsby gushed happily.
“Obviously,” Kurt echoed dully, gazing about the room smiling to any passers-by. He wondered what was the most tactful way to remove himself from the tedious conversation he knew was to come.
“And to be lucky enough to secure Señorita Lopez for the titular role! That was me,” The theatrical producer smugly grinned.” She would never have been aware of the production had I not brought it to her attention.”
Now that was something newsworthy.
Señorita Lopez was someone to Kurt’s readers would love to hear more about. Her ties to the former president of Mexico fascinated everyone, her great and stunning beauty, her exoticism that had both men and women often turning heads. Upon her debut into New York society a good handful of years ago, the Mexican beauty had taken the city by storm. And then had come her surprising pivot to the stage. Apparently the young woman had not only beauty but brains and an exceedingly enormous amount of talent on her hands. Gossip had informed Kurt a few months ago that she had been in London performing on the West End but had recently returned to NewYork.
Was it Goolsby’s new production that drew her back across the ocean?
“I beg your pardon, “ Kurt asked, quite sure he must have hallucinated that last statement from the other man. “Did you say Señorita Lopez? Señorita Santana Lopez is starring in your newest production?”
Goolsby nearly giggled with delight as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!”
“The exquisite Mexican Rose?” Kurt pressed again, still very much in disbelief.
“The very one!” Dustin crowed triumphantly as he grabbed a glass of of liquor from a passing manservant.
“In your production?”
“Well, not quite mine., but it was my idea to cast the lovely Señorita in the show. And I was the one who was able to both contact and convince her.”
Kurt hummed as he thought that perhaps being wrangled into this discussion was not as horrible as he had first anticipated.
“Opening night is in a few weeks, “ Goolsby confessed, a rather sadly pathetic and hopeful gaze was tossed Kurt’s way. “There are two seats in our private box that are still available. We would love to have you and a guest attend.”
And there it was.
Usually Kurt had the lovely Marley at reception head Goolsby off at the past. Or his private secretary, Chandler, who took care of most of his correspondence, would be the one to make excuses to spare Kurt the pain of suffering through another intolerable Goolsby production.
“And no doubt you would like some sort mention about the lovely Señorita in my next article?” Kurt surmised aloud
“Well, if you felt so inclined . . “
Kurt sniffed. “I cannot make any promises, Goolsby,” he told the theatrical producer honestly. “Josephine Redding approves and assigns all articles that appear in each issue of Vogue.”
“Of course, of course. Completely understood.”
“But I am not going to assume she will give me leave to mention any such thing at all. Though I cannot lie, I fear I would be amiss not witnessing the lovely Señorita Lopez perform live. You may hold any tickets for the show under my name at the box office for the time being. Please send around the details of the opening night performance to the Vogue offices. I will bring this matter up with Ms. Redding at our next meeting and will defer to her judgement as to where she wishes to proceed from there.”
Goolsby’s eyes widened in surprise. He obviously had not been expecting that sort of response after his offer to Kurt had slipped from his lips.
“It would be my utmost pleasure, “Dustin replied profusely. “I am sure you will thoroughly enjoy this theatrical production.
A slim, singular arched eyebrow raised. “I expect to be completely bowled over by the experience, I am sure.”
“Oh you will!” Goolsby assured Kurt with a fiery determination. “You will!”
Well . . that’s what I have so far. I hope all of you are writing and creating and having a good summer!!
(Wishing all of you in the heat wave cooler weather soon!!)
Tagging these lovely talented folks if you want to share what you are currently working on plus a GIANT OPEN TAG for folks who see this and want to join in and share:
4. - a song title/lyric for vibes: Ofenbach & Quarterhead - Head Shoulders Knees & Toes (HBz & Marv U Remix) - https://youtu.be/VsDE6Kwhqyc?si=qL0upy5us_x5Jdcz
5 - a rating (G, T, M, E): I’m not picky - whatever the muse brings you. I like em all.
another entry in the "songs cricket's never heard before but now is obsessed with" category. i hope you enjoy this lil AU in honor of pride happening in my city this weekend :)
want your own ficlet? rules are here
❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙
10:30pm, provincetown
There’s an Adonis on the stage.
Henry’s pretty sure it’s not just drunk goggles; despite the heat of the day, the sunburn, and Henry’s general dehydration, he hasn’t had that much to drink. But even in Henry’s wildest dreams he could never have imagined the specific shade of warm brown skin, the delicate way his curls are falling across his forehead, the way the man’s voice seems to sink into Henry’s very bones as he sings over the noise of the bar.
The man’s song floats above the crowd, slinks between bodies, drapes over Henry like a blanket. It’s clearly a cover—if the way people are singing along is any indication—but Henry’s so focused on how it makes him feel he can’t focus on the words. Somehow, the rasp of the man’s voice makes Henry feel like every cliche he’s ever read. He can hear his racing heartbeat in his ears, he feels like dancing, he wants to breathe this man in like air, he thinks every half-formed wish sent heavenward has just come true. Henry wouldn’t be surprised to find out the man is actually a siren, he’s that drawn to the singer.
Today’s been a series of fulfilled dreams: he got into grad school, Pez secured a major donor for the shelter they want to start, and he went to his first Pride. Just existing in a huge crowd of people who were also queer was such a balm—Henry hadn’t realized just how tense he’d been until being in the middle of the throng relaxed him. Every person around him, as far as the eye could see, was safe, was like him, was overflowing with love for each other. Henry’s made friends and kissed strangers out of general enthusiasm and spent the whole day grinning like a madman. He’s screamed and laughed and called Bea and let Pez almost drown him in glitter. It’s been an absolutely amazing day.
But all of that pales in comparison to the man behind the microphone. Henry just can’t help but stare, despite Pez teasing him for being so predictable. Nothing can bring him down today.
“Thank you! I’m Alex, I’ll be back in five with another set!”
The crowd cheers and boos in equal measure, no one wanting the spell (apparently) Alex has woven to break. Henry can’t stop himself following Alex’s path through the crowd, drawing in a sharp breath as he realizes that Alex’s trajectory will bring him to the bar right next to Henry.
“‘Scuze me, sweetheart.” Oh bloody hell, Alex has an accent that makes Henry worry for the integrity of his skeleton. He moves aside as much as he can, letting Alex squish in without taking his eyes off the way the light catches each individual curl in Alex’s hair. He’s so busy cataloging the details of Alex’s appearance he misses Alex actually talking to him until Pez elbows him in the ribs.
“Ooof, Pezza, what?” They truly are a great friend, because all Pez does is not significantly to Henry’s other side where Alex is watching their byplay with a drink in hand and an amused quirk to his lips.
“Er…hello.”
“Friend of yours?” Alex asks.
“My best mate, for my sins.”
Alex beams. “And the Blond Bombshell has an accent! Careful, darlin’ I may swoon.”
“Oh.”
“You got a name? I’d hate to let any other blond in here think I was talking about them instead.” Christ, the man is lethal.
“H-Henry.”
Somehow, Alex’s grin widens. “Well, Henry. You might have heard that my name’s Alex.” Henry can only nod, all words, despite his degree in literature, completely deserting him. “I’m supposed to do another half-hour up there, but after that, I’d love to get to know you better.”
“Me? But you’re—”
“You. I could barely remember the lyrics to Call Me, Maybe up there when I spotted you.”
“Oh. Well then. Yes. I’ll be here when you’re done.” Henry’s voice is totally breathless and he can feel Pez sniggering against his back—he’ll get revenge later. Alex doesn’t seem to notice or care, just shifts and relaxes once Henry agrees. Amazingly, Henry realizes Alex had been nervous. Of Henry. Absolutely mad.
“Any requests? I wouldn’t want you to forget me while I’m gone.”
Henry’s sure he’s blushing. He will blame it on the sunburn, but he knows Pez will know the truth. “I’ve always been partial to Bowie.”
Alex, the absolute reprobate, winks at him before downing his drink and sauntering back to the stage.
“Did that just happen?” Henry asks faintly.
“Appears so, old bean.”
It’s ridiculous, some singing and two minutes of conversation shouldn’t make him so certain, but Henry’s sure he’s never going to feel alone ever again once Alex gets off stage.
Over the heads of the crowd, Alex grins at him before strumming his guitar and stepping close to the mic and closing his eyes as he starts singing again.
“Tonight…I’m gonna have myself a real good time…”
Henry’s sure his delighted smile could light an entire football pitch for a week.
How about: klaine + things you said when you thought i was asleep?
thank you so much for the request! both you and @bitbybitwrites sent me the same prompt so here it is for both of you <3
i went with something canon compliant and a bit angsty for this prompt. it discusses blaine’s thought regarding his relationship with kurt during the second half of season 5. i hope you like it !
Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson
Rating: G
Word Count: 841
Prompt: 12 - things you said when you thought i was asleep
if you would like to send me a prompt, you can do so here!
fic can be read below the cut <3
Kurt got home late a lot these days.
He knew that Blaine had a hard time with it. He moved to New York largely to be closer to Kurt and now Kurt was too busy to really devote much time to him.
It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Kurt just had a heavy course load this semester, and paired with his Vogue internship and diner job, he hardly had a moment to himself, much less a moment to focus on Blaine. Many evenings were spent with Kurt coming home, deciding something simple for the two of them to eat, showering, and then passing out the moment his head hit the pillow.
Blaine tried to never complain about it, but Kurt could tell it bothered him.
Tonight was especially a let-down. Kurt came home from work and had discovered that their roommates would be out for the evening. Like, all their roommates. And normally, this was a fantastic thing seeing as they hardly found time to spend together with just the two of them. But just as luck would have it, Kurt was too exhausted to be able to take advantage of their personal time in any meaningful way.
“I’m sorry, Blaine, but I haven’t really had a moment to breathe in about twelve hours,” he explained apologetically, “I really just need some sleep.”
“Oh, yeah! Of course! I get it, yeah, get some rest, honey,” Blaine replied encouragingly, offering Kurt a chaste kiss of the cheek. He was trying to not let his disappointment show, and Kurt could appreciate that.
It wasn’t until that evening that Kurt really got to see the other end of Blaine’s thoughts.
He didn’t mean to listen in, not really. He really was prepared to pass out and be dead to the world until his alarm clock devastatingly went off the next morning.
But somewhere in between the haze between wakefulness and sleep, Blaine started to speak. Not to Kurt, or rather, not in a way that Kurt was ever supposed to hear it. He sat up in bed and sighed — Kurt felt the bed jostle even despite Blaine’s efforts to not disturb him.
“Sometimes I feel like you don’t really want me around,” Blaine muttered into the darkness, and yeah, Kurt was definitely not supposed to be hearing this. A warm hand ran through his hair gently, carding through in soft strokes. “Ever since I moved to New York, I dunno, I just feel like our relationship is… different somehow.”
Kurt should’ve done something. He should’ve alerted Blaine that he was awake, because these thoughts that Blaine was sharing were something personal and private.
Against his remarkably better judgment, Kurt didn’t move.
“I think a lot of it is probably my fault,” he confessed to who he believed to be no one. “I know you say that you forgive me, and I do believe you. But I feel like some part of you still holds it against me. Not that I blame you.” Kurt heard Blaine sniffle and wondered if he was crying. Then, the hand in his hair moved as Blaine grazed his thumb along Kurt’s cheek. It was a sweet, loving gesture, but it took a bit for Kurt to not react to it in a way that would reveal he was not actually asleep.
“I should probably tell you all these things when you’re actually awake, huh? I’m just scared, I guess. I don’t know if it’s obvious yet, but I’m not really that great at this whole relationship thing. I feel like when we first met, I always knew exactly what you needed. Now, I’m not so sure.” Blaine took a breath and finally pulled his hand away.
“I think… I think I just need you to need me,” Blaine eventually admitted, and even the way Blaine spoke felt weighted. “It’s selfish as hell, I know, but I liked feeling like you needed me. You were so scared and alone and needed someone to protect you and I loved being that person for you. But now you don’t, and… and I’m still trying to figure out how to be okay with that.”
Blaine’s voice broke and Kurt felt his chest constrict at the sound. “I love the man you are, but I can’t help but miss the boy you were. You’d probably be pissed if you heard me say that.” Blaine let out a soft laugh, but it was devoid of any real humor. “It’s so much easier to say these things when you’re asleep.”
After that, Blaine fell into silence. It felt like ages, but he eventually resettled into bed, pressing a kiss to Kurt’s temple before finally cuddling up next to him. Blaine was warm, but Kurt couldn’t help a chill that sat deep in his bones from everything he just heard — every word Blaine wanted to say to him but couldn’t find the strength to say it. With his arm wrapped protectively around Kurt’s waist, he murmured one final thing before drifting off to sleep.
You get a sheet of notebook paper because that’s basically your icon lol
Idk what happened to my b there but like I said I am a chicken scratch queen 😌
I also genuinely think you are very cool! Also I did not realize I wasn’t following you because I could have sworn we are moots???? But tumblr decides to unfollow people for me sometimes. I think it’s very admirable how you always seem to be writing SOMETHING and when you have a schedule you stick to it and you actually finish your fics so I am definitely jealous of you 😭
Hello! You may be able to help me. I am looking for the name of the artist who drew this stunning pic of Kurt. I’ve used it as an inspiration for a Kinktober fic and I’d love to give them credit.
Do you know who it was? The pic was shared to me by someone else who was unsure of its origins as well.
I have no clue. I looked it up through reverse image search as well and there's no match. Personally, I also do not recognise the art style as someone's style.
I'm gonna @ my co-owner of the blog @justgleekout do you happen to know it?
Otherwise, if anyone else knows who made this fanart, please let us know in the replies.
EDIT: @misqueue identified it as Vanity by mistysigh, who has deactivated both their Tumblr and DA, but misqueue reblogged it!
Summary: For the Klaine Secret Santa 2023 Gift Exchange and was paired up to write something for the lovely and talented @mynonah.
You gave me a fantastic assortment of things to choose for prompts. It was challenging at first to decide which combination of them for your story!
I may have taken some liberties with how the medical profession actually works and how hospitals are run just for this fic. My apologies if some things aren't factually correct.
Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss
…on a scar.
Love the list and tempted to send ore than one number in one go . . but I won't be greedy . . 😊
from the kiss list / see the rest
Notes: Mentions of the fact that Blaine has scars caused by his Sadie Hawkins experience but no details about it.
~~~~~
"So I can't help but notice," Kurt says. "That no one else is home."
He smiles mischievously and pulls Blaine down next to him on the bed. Blaine feels the affection unfold in his stomach. He loves Kurt like this. Cheeks flushed and eyes bright and so obviously interested that it soothes some of Blaine's constant insecurities.
"Hmm," Blaine hums like this fact had completely escaped him and the thought hadn't been thrumming under his skin for the whole car ride here. "Yeah. I guess my parents are both out tonight."
Kurt doesn't bother to act coy. His arms slide over Blaine's shoulders and then their mouths meet, soft and warm.
It still feels so new. Kissing Kurt. Even though it's been a few months now. Months of sweet, shy kisses that have melted into heated making out. They've learned how to turn their heads to perfectly fit together. Blaine knows that Kurt's nose fits in the groove of his cheek. He knows that Kurt makes a gorgeous, needy little noise if Blaine's teeth catch on his bottom lip. He knows that his hand always finds Kurt's cheek or jaw, eager to keep him close.
It's unusual for them to get any real privacy and Blaine doesn't fully know what he expected from suddenly getting some, but he loves how it’s turned out. Just the opportunity to kiss slowly and lazily, a constant catch and release of mouths and shared breaths until his ears are flushed and his lips feel swollen and Kurt's eyes are dark and heavy.
Blaine can't believe how good kissing feels. He could happily never stop kissing Kurt.
"Can I…?" Kurt breaths, trailing off. He toys with the buttons on Blaine's shirt.
"Hmm?" Blaine can't stop staring at Kurt's mouth. Slightly red and damp. Completely kissable.
"Can we take our shirts off?"
Blaine freezes, breath catching nervously. He wants to see Kurt so badly and trail his fingers across Kurt's perfect skin. Map out the shape of him without clothes in the way. But. That would also mean exposing himself. And he doesn’t know whether to warn Kurt about the scars. The ones that spider from his hips and up across his ribs. But the warning will just invite more questions. He doesn’t want to talk about Sadie Hawkins right now. Not because he doesn’t trust Kurt. But because he just wants to be with him in the moment and not invite his past into this bubble they’ve created.
Of course, not telling him means that Blaine might have to watch his face turn to shock or disgust. Blaine is not ashamed of the scars. And he doesn’t think that Kurt is the sort of person to care about them either. But there’s always that small level of doubt.
"Blaine?" Kurt prompts gently. "Sorry. It's too soon. Forget I-"
“No,” Blaine interrupts. He cups Kurt’s face. “It’s not that. I want to. Just… do mine first.” He doesn’t want to talk about the scars. But he does want to get the reveal over with.
Kurt catches Blaine’s eye as he reaches for Blaine’s buttons again. He makes quick work of them, hand sliding warmly over Blaine’s collarbone as the sliver of skin is exposed. Blaine shrugs out of the shirt before he can change his mind, letting Kurt pull it away eagerly like a kid tearing wrapping off a gift.
He hears the way Kurt’s breath catches. “Wow,” Kurt murmurs. He sounds reverent rather than appalled so Blaine chances a glance at his face. His eyes are soft with open adoration. It makes Blaine’s own breath stutter. He thinks Kurt must not have noticed the scars somehow, as impossible as that would be. But Kurt places his hands directly over the worst of them in a gentle caress.
“Does this hurt?” he asks.
“No. They’re old scars.”
Kurt gives him a knowing look. Like he knows as well as Blaine that some scars never truly heal. “Can we lie down?”
Blaine wants to protest that Kurt still has his shirt on but if Kurt looked at him the way he is now whilst half naked, he might just combust on the spot. So he just nods. He lets Kurt push him down. Kurt doesn’t quite straddle him but he does hover over him, pressing another lush kiss to his waiting lips before turning his attention to Blaine’s chest again.
It’s startling when he puts his lips directly on Blaine’s bare hip. Blaine’s breath punches out of him. For all the kissing they’ve done, it couldn’t prepare him for Kurt’s lips on the more untouched parts of his body. It feels so intimate, the way Kurt’s lips softly press the path of the most obvious scar. Blaine shivers, hand fisting uselessly in the sheets.
“Is this OK?” Kurt checks, voice low. “You’re trembling.”
“It’s OK. Better than OK. Good even,” Blaine babbles and Kurt grins down at him, head slightly cocked.
“God, you’re gorgeous. I’m kind of feeling insane that I get to see you like this.”
Blaine would agree but Kurt’s mouth is back on his body and all he manages is a groan. He throws a hand over his face. Heat spreads from every point of Kurt’s lips on him. His hips shift helplessly against nothing. The simmering arousal from making out, slightly quelled by his anxiety, roars back into life. Blaine reaches for Kurt, finds his hair, wraps his fingers through it.
“So gorgeous,” Kurt repeats half like an assurance and half like he just can't help himself.
By the time he's finished mapping Blaine's scar and is making his way up Blaine's throat instead, Blaine barely knows what to do with himself. He's hard and aching. He's breathless and flushed and incoherent. He wants Kurt's body on him, wants to get at his bare skin, wants to devour him.
Kurt's face meets him back at eye level and looks down at him. He looks flushed too, bright eyed with arousal and looking at Blaine's lips. He nuzzles their noses together and Blaine melts. He hooks an arm over Kurt's shoulders and pulls him close so Kurt is half on top of him and their foreheads are pressed together.
"You're perfect," Kurt says, quiet into the space between them and Blaine didn't know how much he needed to hear it.
"So are you." Blaine slides a hand under Kurt's shirt, trailing over warm skin. He wants to make Kurt feel the same as he does. Adored and content and stupidly horny. "Let me show you."
Did I ask you some of these already? I forgot! If I haven't then:
2, 13 28
If I have, then you can ignore these - unless you want to answer them!😊
2. Are you a pantser or plotter?
Pantser. Hands down forever and ever a pantser. Even in my original novel, for my sins 🤣
13. Describe your writing process from idea to polished
-Have unhinged idea
-Message whoever is online to be like "omg please don't let me write this"
-Get told to write it
-Create a google doc, which then has an automation set up to add a new line to the Works In Progress tab in my Airtable 😅
-Write, at some point, maybe??? This is VERY dependent on a number of things. Sometimes I just sit down and smash something out. Sometimes *cough*Anastasia AU*cough* they stall and linger for months
-Optional: If it's a long complicated story or I have plot stuff I'm unsure about, fling it in the vague direction of a beta reader
-Read over once for typos and then yeet it onto AO3, usually right before I go to bed so I can hopefully wake up to COMMENTS 🥰
28. Favourite side character
LIAM MY BELOVED. RAFAEL LUNA MY BELOVED. TO GO BACK TO SCHITT'S CREEK, JAKE AND RACHEL MY BELOVEDS. (Lmao at @whimsymanaged who is currently watching SC and had to deal with my RACHEL!!!! JAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
