MY HEART D:
OMFG NO
Mom’s expression kinda breaks the mood, though…so unfazed.
“Oh, we’re out of milk? Oh well…”
^ BUT THAT MAKES IT WORSE.
WHAT IF HE DOESN’T HAVE A MOM IN HIS DREAMS BECAUSE
HIS MOM NEVER CARED ABOUT HIM IN HIS REAL LIFE.
YOU TAKE THIS POST BACK
YOU TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW
But did anyone notice that the heart monitor is Beemo? :(
AU in which Burt and Lorelai get married.
ohmygod
OMG Rachel meeting Paris, this would destroy the universe XD
This is not something I knew I needed, and now I am 100% sure it’s all I need. Someone?
A Collection of Rare and Obscure Words
Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips.
Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on.
Ultracrepidarian - Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge.
Apodyopis - The act of mentally undressing someone.
Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.
Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.
Autolatry - The worship of one’s self.
Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage.
Gargalesthesia - The sensation caused my tickling.
Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.
Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain.
Cataglottism - Kissing with tongue.
Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.
Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder.
Grapholagnia - The urge to stare at obscene pictures.
Agelast - A person who never laughs.
Wanweird - An unhappy fate.
Dystopia - Am imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell.
Petrichor - The smell of dry rain on the ground.
Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did.
Malapert - Clever in manners of speech.
Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm.
Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot.
Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”.
Lygerastia - The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out.
Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.
Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where.
Baisemain - A kiss on the hand.
Druxy - Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside.
Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.
I knew “petrichor” because of Doctor Who and “duende” because of Glee. See, TV does teach you things :)
Who thinks these two need to meet?
Can we please talk about the AU future!fic idea this just gave me, of Kurt and Blaine’s children falling in love with each other in grade school and bringing Klaine together?
“Dad,” Elliot began, his voice solemn and far too adult-like for a cherub-faced boy of seven years old. “I have something important to tell you.”
Kurt put his fork down beside his plate, dabbing a napkin at the corner of his mouth before speaking. “Okay. What’s up, Ell?”
Elliot drew in a deep, heaving breath before speaking again; his words rushing out on an exhale. “Ihaveagirlfriend.”
Kurt’s eyebrows shot up, but he quickly reigned in the laugh that threatened to burst from his chest. “Oh?” he said, his voice a little higher than normal.
“Yes.” Elliot’s expression was still stone-serious. Kurt bit the inside of his bottom lip as hard as he could stand to stop himself from grinning. “Her name is Maya. She’s the smartest girl in my class.”
“Well, that’s very impressive, Ell.” Kurt was already etching the moment into his permanent memory, placing it alongside countless other warm memories the two had made over the years together — his son, at the ripe age of seven, telling his father about his first girlfriend over a quiet Friday night dinner. “Congratulations.”
“I-it’s okay, right?” Elliot’s voice faltered for the first time; truer to his normally shy demeanor. “If I have a girlfriend? Instead of boyfriends like you?”
Kurt’s face softened immediately. “Oh, Ell.” He reached across their tiny kitchen table and held his son’s freckled hand, still chubby with baby fat and sticky from his day at school. “You can like whoever you want to like. I don’t care if it’s boys or girls, as long as you’re always happy.”
Elliot cocked his head, considering Kurt’s words for a few moments before nodding curtly. “Okay,” he said, pausing to take an enormous bite of his pasta, and Kurt once again had to hide his smile over how quickly kids could shift from one emotion to another. Elliot chewed and swallowed purposefully, then spoke again. “I invited her to the parade tomorrow. It’s, like, a…a date.”
“Oh, did you now?” Kurt was truly surprised at that. “What do Maya’s mommy and daddy think about her going to the pride parade?”
Elliot’s sky blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “She doesn’t have a mommy. She’s just like me!”
***
“But Daddy!”
“I’m sorry, Maya. We can’t go to the parade tomorrow.” Blaine’s words were muffled by the refrigerator he had his upper body buried in, rummaging through leftovers in search of anything edible to serve his daughter for dinner. “Daddy has to be at the theatre at noon for his show. You know how important Daddy’s musical is.”
Blaine let out a tiny aha! when he found the remnants of the chicken he’d made two afternoons ago, hidden behind juice boxes and yogurt cups and dozens of packs of string cheese. When he pulled himself from the fridge, Tupperware of chicken in hand, he was met with his daughter’s famous pout – one of epic proportions. “Maya…”
“Please, Daddy!” Maya looked like she was about to burst into tears. “I really really wanna go. I told Elly we’d be there.”
“Who’s Elly?”
Maya instantly blushed; her golden tan cheeks reddening to a perfect pink hue. “My boyfriend,” she whispered, dropping her hazel eyes to the floor and swinging her upper body back and forth in that nervous, girly way she always did when she was about to burst with excitement over something.
Blaine nearly dropped the container to the floor. He managed to slide it onto the counter before crouching down to meet his daughter at eye level. “Wait. Your what?”
“My boyfriend.” Maya spared a glance up at her father through long, dark lashes that always reminded Blaine of a fairytale princess, spun in dreams and fantasies and certainly not standing before him as his own flesh and blood. “He asked me on a date to the parade. He’s going with his daddy.”
“Okay. Hold up.” Blaine held a hand in the air as he stood up, leaning back against the kitchen counter and cracking open the lid of the container to reach for a piece of chicken. “Your boyfriend – we’ll leave that one alone for the moment – your boyfriend invited you on a date to the gay pride parade. With his dad.”
“Uh huh.” Maya eyed the chicken that Blaine popped into his mouth, and Blaine offered her the next piece he snagged, wincing a little when he realized he was feeding his daughter cold chicken for dinner. Another night, another meal on the fly. “He said he and his daddy go every year.”
“Do they?”
“Yup! His daddy is just like you!” She grinned up at him, bright-eyed and innocent, and Blaine wondered if he would ever stop falling in love with his daughter.
“Just like me, huh?”
Maya nodded, her head bobbing up and down exaggeratedly as she chewed noisily on chicken.
“And where are you supposed to meet…Elly?”
“Fifth and eighth!” she chirped, holding out a tiny hand for another piece of chicken. “At nine o’clock.”
“Nine o…” Blaine cut himself off with a sigh. “Are you going to get up that early? That’s a long train ride from here.”
“Yes, yes!” Maya jumped up and down, sending her pale purple skirt billowing around her brown knees. “I promise, Daddy! Please!”
This is how it starts, Blaine thought wryly as he eyed his daughter’s pleading stare, her plump hands curled together in tight prayer. Getting me to take her on dates when she’s only seven. Soon enough she’s going to be asking me to take her to Tiffany’s.
“We can only stay a little while,” Blaine warned. “When I say we have to go, we have to go. Daddy can’t be late for work.”
Maya squealed and threw her arms around Blaine’s legs. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou, Daddy!” She pressed a noisy kiss against his dark denim pants before turning and running through the living room to her bedroom.
“Hey!” Blaine called after her. “Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t even had dinner.”
“I have to pick out something to wear, Daddy!” came Maya’s muffled voice from her bedroom.
Blaine shook his head, rubbing a palm over his tired eyes and chuckling as he reached for another piece of cold chicken.
TBC
“What do you think about this one, Dad?” Elliot was breathless as he popped into Kurt’s doorframe; a black top hat perched on his head. His chestnut hair poked out from under the brim, splaying messily across his forehead.
“You look fantastic, Ell!” Kurt dropped his jacket to his bed as he complimented his son, keeping his tone light to counter-balance the young boy’s obvious nerves. He reached out and brushed Elliot’s bangs to the side with his thumb; the absent gesture briefly sending his thoughts back to his high school days, ten long years ago, when he was still a guarded, Midwestern teenager, brushing his own hair away with a dainty thumb.
Still in the closet. Still trying to pretend he liked girls. Just before he made what would end up being the most blessed accident of his life.
“Here, let me help you with those sleeves.” Kurt kneeled in front of Elliot and tugged on the cuffs of his button down, folding them neatly over the wrists of his gray jacket. “There! Perfect.”
Kurt sat back on his heels and admired his son’s ensemble: from his hat to his skinny green tie to his favorite indigo jeans, worn and faded around the knees from hours running in the park. Elliot may not have inherited his sexual orientation, Kurt thought with a satisfied nod. But damn if his son didn’t take after his shrewd sense of style.
“I especially love those laces,” Kurt said, tapping a finger against the neon green shoelaces threaded through Elliot’s tan suede shoes. “You ready to go?”
“Uh huh.” Without another word, Elliot clasped Kurt’s hand in his and started pulling him through the door.
“Wait, wait!” Kurt exclaimed, stopping Elliot and reaching back to his bed to snatch his jacket. “Boy, I’ve never seen you so excited!”
“You’ll see, Dad.” When Elliot grabbed Kurt’s hand again, Kurt let his son haul him out of the bedroom toward the front door. “She’s the most beautiful girl in the whole world.”
***
“How do I look, Daddy?” Maya asked as she suddenly twirled into the center of the living room. The skirt of her green dress trailed in the air around her, offering a peek of the pink leopard print on the fabric under the hem.
“Like the most beautiful girl in the entire universe,” Blaine answered automatically, his voice still thick and rough from sleep.
Maya giggled. “That’s what you always say!”
“Well, it’s always true!” Blaine took another sip of his coffee, eyeing his daughter over the steam rising up from the mug in his hand. “Why the green dress?”
“Because,” she started in a worldly tone that clearly meant to convey Blaine should know better. “That’s Elly’s favorite color!”
“Oh. Sorry.” Blaine held one hand up in the air in defense as he took another swig from his mug. “You need to put a sweater on over that before we leave.”
“I knoowww.” Maya rushed over to the hall closet and yanked out a sweater – her favorite sweater, pink with big bell sleeves and a loose-knit crochet pattern, sent over from Italy or Spain or wherever Santana was roaming when she happened to briefly remember she had a daughter.
Maya wrapped the soft fabric around her body, expertly sticking her arms into the sleeves before flipping her hands under the collar, sending a wild mass of curly, caramel hair into the air behind her. “Okay, all ready!”
“Jeez, Maya, I’m not even done with my coffee yet. Sit down for a few minutes, would you?” Blaine ran a hand through the mop of sleep-mussed curls at the top of his head. It was days like this when he wondered how he had any hair left at all, after clumsily chasing around his precocious daughter for the past seven years.
“We can’t be late!”
“We won’t. It’s only seven o’clock.” Blaine reached for his iPad, lying on the cushion at the end of the couch. “Here,” he said, flipping through to the morning’s New York Times. He stretched out an arm and caught Maya’s hand, pulling her down to the couch beside him. “Read.”
He thrust the iPad into her lap, placing a peck on top of her head and inhaling deeply. Her hair still smelled impossibly sweet from her bath the night before – like strawberries and candy and little girl.
“I love you, baby,” Blaine mumbled into her hair.
“Daddy.”
“Okay, okay!” He eased himself up with a groan and staggered toward the bathroom, stopping halfway to look back one last time at the cozy image of his daughter, curled into the corner of the couch, swaddled in pretty pink and warm morning sunlight.
Grinning in spite of himself, Blaine stumbled into the bathroom and turned the faucet on full blast. Something told him he’d need to be refreshed for whatever they had ahead of them that morning.
TBC :)
THERE”S MORE
Oh my god, HoNY and impending Klaine. This is the best combination I have ever seen. When do we get more?
J. K. Rowling: I said to Arthur, my American editor - we had an interesting conversation during the editing of seven - the moment when Harry takes Draco’s wand, Arthur said, God, that’s the moment when the ownership of the Elder wand is actually transferred? And I said, that’s right. He said, shouldn’t that be a bit more dramatic? And I said, no, not at all, the reverse. I said to Arthur, I think it really puts the elaborate, grandiose plans of Dumbledore and Voldemort in their place. That actually the history of the wizarding world hinged on two teenage boys wrestling with each other. They weren’t even using magic. It became an ugly little corner tussle for the possession of wands. And I really liked that - that very human moment, as opposed to these two wizards who were twitching strings and manipulating and implanting information and husbanding information and guarding information, you know? Ultimately it just came down to that, a little scuffle and fistfight in the corner and pulling a wand away.
Melissa Anelli: It says a lot about the world at large, I think, about conflict in the world, it’s these little things -
J. K. Rowing: And the difference one individual can make. Always, the difference one individual can make.
I am always amazed by how well thought out everything she wrote is.
