How do you document real life?

Hi, I'm Lauren!
(or rdm, if you prefer the shorter name with the longer story)

I'm 23, a university student and a self-confessed music nerd.

Here you'll find Glee, Disney, Sherlock, fic, musicals, pretty people, pretty things and my ramblings.
Oh and I have a tendency to overshare. Don't say I didn't warn you.

"Wax / Wane" - Kurt/Blaine 


I had every intention of just writing a cute little tropey drabble and then…

~3200 words of vampire!Cheerio!Kurt and werewolf!jock!Blaine


UPDATE: It’s now a verse! The out-of-chronological-order verse thus far:

Show Me Your Teeth
Blood Drive
Share, Part 1
Share, Part 2
Thriller + Heads Will Roll

“Kurt, come on. Take some.”


“Just a little bit. Like a sip.”

“You have an odd definition of what a sip looks like.”

“Coach Sylvester will have your ass if you’re—”

“Coach Sylvester can kiss my ass. She doesn’t scare me. Get your arm out of my face,” Kurt hissed.

Blaine sat back a little on the locker room bench and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Kurt had missed his usual morning feed; Burt was in Washington, Carole was still on a shift at the hospital, and Finn had taken advantage of both facts by spending the night at Rachel’s. Now, between the hunger and the ensuing headache, Kurt was getting crabby and sluggish, and his already pale complexion had taken on a sickly, grayish tint that made his red Cheerios uniform look garish against his skin. Kurt liked to keep his vampire needs separate from the rest of his life, and so refused to feed at school, but this was ridiculous, Blaine thought, given the increasing urgency of the situation, and frankly, it was pissing Blaine off.

“Fine.” Blaine’s voice inched a little higher as he spat, “Pass out while you’re lifting Brittany above your head and maaaybe I can stop Santana before she tries to kill you. You don’t smell right, by the way.”

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posted 21 hours ago with 381 notes - via skivvysupreme


AU where S3 had an actual narrative arc, and Allison died as the culmination of 20-odd episodes of growth, where it was an actual tragedy and not a tragedy of bad writing.

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posted 3 days ago with 68 notes - via c-is-for-circinate

FIC: Silver In Our Lungs; Kurt/Blaine (NC-17) 


Kurt/Blaine, NC-17 (~8,000 words)

Summary: Hogwarts AU. Seven years of Kurt’s life as a Hogwarts student captured in seven moments. Featuring anal. Special thanks to radio-poem & colfhummel, who both inspired different parts of this fic!

year one.

When Kurt remembers his mom, he remembers color: brilliant pinks and misty greens rising around her in vaporous swirls, a haphazard scattering of spell-dyed cauldrons simmering artfully across her study. Her more natural hues, the exact shade of her eyes and the tone of her skin, have faded slowly from Kurt’s memory since her death. Even pictures, life-like and moving, can’t make them stick; they recede immediately in favor of the saturated images his mind still so easily conjures up. He thinks of her always now as she was at her happiest, veiled and illuminated behind those synthetically pigmented fumes, oscillating between shimmery tints of oranges, lavenders, and cyans as she glided around her pots, stirring here, dropping a root there. Always shooting Kurt bright, close-lipped smiles where he sat just a few hazy feet away, eyes wide and face awed as he just watched

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posted 2 weeks ago with 343 notes - via fierybeams

Fic: Playing the Game - Blackout 


Title: Playing the Game - Blackout
Pairing: CrissColfer
Rating: PG-15
Disclaimers: Not mine.
Summary: Darren’s going a little crazy, maybe.  But not really.

A/N: Ooh, ooh, upped the rating a tiny bit. (Sorry, that’s big for me.)

Please bear with me as I ramble here.

Last part, an extra long one at that.  Though arguably, I completed my ccbingo card already.  I’m ever the overachiever, and I was so excited to have both participated in the ccbingo and completed it, so this part includes some kind of reference to all 24 previous prompts.

I was going to end this fic with Blaine going away, but I just couldn’t end the story yet. I briefly considered getting another ccbingo card to continue on, but I couldn’t commit to so many prompts. So, I leave it in your hands now—do any of you have prompts or things you’d like to see in this tiny little universe?

Previous parts: 1.Overboard2.Glee3.(Wendy) Darling, 4.Spellbound, 5.On the Rocks, 6.Shower, 7.Cherry, 8.Pink, 9.Chocolate Chip Cookies, 10.Allergies, 11.Off-Screen, 12.Overhear(d), 13.Werewolves, 14.Nerd, 15.Rockstar, 16.Jealousy, 17.Land of Stories, 18.Harmless, 19.Disneyland, 20.Fight (or the lack thereof), 21.Pornstar, 22.Youtube, 23.Rose Petals, 24.Soul Mate(s)  


25. Blackout (free space, aka “getting all the prompts filled”)

"Okay," Paris raised a hand and everyone silenced. "Action!"

As soon as the music came over the speakers, it disappeared, along with all the lights. Machinery clanged to a halt and the buzz of electricity zapped quiet.

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posted 2 weeks ago with 43 notes - via jaylie12

Just Tipsy 


Blaine is playing a video game and really into it. Meanwhile Kurt really wants Blaine to be into him, with his tongue preferably. 

NC-17, rimming, mentions of roleplay and spanking, also there’s a really tiny dose of alcohol involved

Huge thanks to my amazing beta reader Kris, who was an enormous help ♥

On AO3

Blaine’s fingers are starting to hurt from pressing the different buttons of his game controller, a numb pain spreading on the right side of his head from staring fixedly at the television screen for the past hour. But he’s so close to conquering this seemingly impossible-to-beat level, so he persists.


Blaine is startled to hear Kurt’s voice so near him. Sucking in a deep breath, he grips the controller tighter. “Hm?” His voice is distant, his gaze not leaving the screen for one second.

He fully expects Kurt to get mad at him any second, to stomp out of the room or to rip the controller out of his grip only to smack it lightly against his head.

But Kurt just lets out a playful giggle. “Aww, come on. You’re missing out on so much, you know that, right?”

That’s when Blaine’s head makes a quick turn.

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posted 2 weeks ago with 111 notes - via thetimesinbetween © scentofsummerrain


this shouldn’t be weird. stiles knows it shouldn’t be and it isn’t, it really isn’t. scott’s been sleeping in his bed at sleepovers since they were nine and the air mattress popped and stiles’ bed was right there. 

they ended up tangled together then, too. stiles woke up to the smell of pancakes that saturday with his knee on scott’s stomach and scott’s arm over his neck. 

except that was then, and this is now, and it’s still not weird because that’s how they’ve always been. in each other’s space. touching. physical and emotional anchors and all that jazz, before having anchors was necessary to staying human. stiles had to admit it stung a little, when he figured out allison was scott’s anchor, and not his best-friend-of-eight-years-and-counting, but whatever. scott was good. and then they broke up and scott was not good, but then he was okay until now. stiles doesn’t know if he regrets what they did. 

he misses being able to sleep on his own without screaming, though. 

and maybe that’s why this is weird. scott’s his best friend, his own personal ezastolam script, who stayed up with stiles so he didn’t have to sleep and read their history textbook out loud when stiles couldn’t. stiles was awake then, he knew it. he pressed his fingers into his thigh repeatedly, counting over and over and over and over and there were always ten. scott noticed him drifting off, put a hand on his shoulder and not really say anything, but it helped. it always helped.

scott was the one who told him to get to bed, but stiles was the one who held onto scott’s wrist and pulled him down onto the bed, muttering stay. scott was the one that did. the one that settled in on top of stiles, shimmied out of his jeans and rolled them both over so stiles’ back was flat to his chest. scott was the one that was breathing so deep, but stiles was the one keeping their breaths in synch. this time scott was the one pressing his fingers into stiles’ skin, and stiles counted along sleepily until they reached ten and scott murmured in his ear it’s okay, i’m here, this is real. and stiles wanted to believe him.

this isn’t weird, except that it is, except that it isn’t. waking up with scott’s head on his chest and double-triple-quadruple checking that he was awake, really awake, from a sleep with no nightmares, no dreams, just blackness and peace. and stiles wonders if sleeping with your best friend is going to be habit forming. 

posted 2 weeks ago with 33 notes - via scottinpanties

catyuy whispered:
Klaine, on the same college tour AU


"Go talk to him,"  Mercedes hissed, "before I do it for you.  You’ve been staring at him like you’re hungry and he’s pie."

"I am not."  Kurt contrived to look wounded. "I don’t know why you wanted me to go on this tour.  I already know where I’m going to live for freshman year and it’s not going to be here.”

"If I were you and I knew he was here, I’d sign up.”

"You’re not me, and I know you wanted me to come along so you could look at the other RA.  I’m telling you he puts lemon juice in his hair and that is so - so cliche.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about,"  said Mercedes, rearing up, then sallying forth for another jab. "Anyway, this is about my best friend selecting the best possible place to live for the real college experience, and seeing a bit of man-candy in the halls never hurts. Imagine running into that in the bathroom - "

(Hair dripping so the water drops crawl down his neck.  Rubbing a fluffy towel down his ropey arms.  Strong, capable fingers, pads soft and knowing, flexing about your - )

"You’re blushing,"  she crowed.  "I knew it.  You’re thinking about s-e-x. With him.  But you’re never gonna get it if you don’t go talk to him.”

Kurt bit his lip.  Someone’s stuffy father turned around and shushed them, so he waited for the guy to lose himself in the mundane details of roommates and rules and no pets or hot plates. The tour guide didn’t notice the noise at all.  He looked so confident.  So successful.  And he talked with so much enthusiasm and knowledge and love for the place.  It was easy to immerse yourself into the rhythm and lilt of his voice, in the buttery gold and green of his eyes and the graceful sway of his hips.

Mercedes poked a sharp elbow in his ribs.  Kurt jumped back into the conversation so she wouldn’t suspect anything. 

"But he’s talking."  Kurt’s voice fluttered. "What am I going to say? ‘Please stop talking about the free wi-fi and exercise rooms on every floor so I can pull you into a closet and start unbuttoning your pants?"

"It’s a start,"  Mercedes shrugged.  "He might say yes.  You’re a catch, Kurt."

"I am a catch,"  Kurt said, with that hauteur that made Mercedes laugh, but she knew him, and knew that he was actually very nervous. "But - " he looked around - "how am I going to talk to him with all these parents around?"

"It’s almost over."  She checked her watches.  The families were already starting to disperse, and the tour guide and his friend were fending off a dark-haired girl who was peppering them with arguments about - something. They weren’t close enough to hear, but they didn’t look like they minded.  The blonde kid gave her a friendly punch in the arm, and the movie star looked a little embarrassed. 

"So you’ve got your chance to talk to the blonde kid, who I’m not 100% sure is completely heterosexual," Kurt snarked.

"My luck says he is."  Mercedes took out a mirror and applied another coat of lip gloss. "That’s my plan.  You get that guy, which will be the saving of all of us because you’ve been single since Elliott and we’ve never heard the end of it.  And I get his best friend, who’ll be sweet and respectful and supportive of my career and I’ll help him, of course."

"But you haven’t answered my question, which is what are we going to say?”  

"Hello,"  said someone very, very unaccountably and suddenly close to Kurt’s elbow.  "I’m Tina."

Kurt reared back like he’d been stung.  Mercedes blinked.

"Hello,"  Kurt said, which was, in retrospect, a completely normal way to start a conversation with a stranger (he reflected wryly).  He covered up with a bland smile and an ever so casual brush down his sleek pinstripe vest, which warmed ever so slightly when he realized she’d made the black and white flowered dress she wore.  

Tina noticed the gesture and the vest and made a little nod of appreciation. Her voice was lightly musical.  ”What’s your name?”  

Kurt shook her fingers.  ”Kurt.  And this is Mercedes, my best friend.”

"Hello, Mercedes," said Tina, a little formally, and extended a hand to hers.  "It’s nice to meet you both, and welcome to NYU."

"Ooo-kay,"  Mercedes huffed.  "This is really awkward, no offense. I mean, we don’t really know you."

"Yeah, I know."  Tina pointed not-so-awkwardly to the cute movie star guy and his blonde best friend standing some ten feet away.  They were both trying to look casual and not-noticing and failing completely at it, but every now and then the movie star guy would cast them - him - lingering glances that Kurt thrilled with to the tips of his toes.  He noticed.  He’d noticed!  “I’m here because my friends have been ogling you both for what feels like a million goddamn years, and now their shift is over and they don’t know what to say to you to bring you over.  So I said I would do it for them, just to speed things up.  Coffee?  I promise I won’t be a fifth wheel. My boyfriend Mike is a barista at a shop nearby.”

Kurt could feel the movie star guy’s eyes sweep up and down his figure and some expression in his eyes that, even though he couldn’t see what was inside of them, told him - told them both that they’d met before. Which was weird and completely abnormal but so, so, so supernatural and otherworldly and romantic, just like in the movies.  And Kurt did so love his romantic movies. He heard the music rise behind them. 

"That sounds wonderful,"  he said.  They both got pulled along in Tina’s determined wake, and as she made rapidfire introductions to her friends, Kurt knew by the telegraph of Mercedes’ eyebrows that she was excited, and giggled as the blonde kid did a George Bush impression for her.  He couldn’t blame her for being happy.  And, as the movie star stood before him, flesh-and-blood, gave him the most charming smile he’d ever seen in his life and said, softly, so sweetly, "I’m Blaine," in a voice he definitely hadn’t used on tour, Kurt decided then and there to change his dorm. 

posted 2 weeks ago with 180 notes - via thetimesinbetween © chemiglee


It’s hot on the bus, and Bucky’s trying hard to keep away from the people next to him. People are full of strange smells and textures, perfumed with chemicals he doesn’t recognize. They smell like sweat and food, and none of it is like he remembers. He pulls his hat down and watches people board.

A girl gets on the bus and pauses at the front to rummage in her purse for a token. She’s got brightly colored clips in her hair, a denim vest studded with shining buttons, and short shorts that reveal a muscular brown thigh and calf. But that’s not why Bucky suddenly finds himself staring.

He’s looking at the other leg.

The bottom section looks like a piston, one thin metal bar sliding into a mechanism whose workings seem to be mostly hidden where the prosthetic disappears into the girl’s boot. The top is larger, and above the knee joint, there’s a large cylindrical casing almost the volume of the girl’s other thigh. The casing is painted, covered entirely with an astonishingly vivid range of blues, violets, turquoises, sea-greens, creams, and golds. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his memory spits out the name Claude Monet, and water lilies, and an image of a blond-haired boy standing beside him, mouth open in wonder.

Bucky’s heart thumps hard in his chest, and when the girl sits down across from him and pulls out a book, all he can do is stare, because abruptly she’s the most amazing thing in the world: a person who’s made herself whole.

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posted 2 weeks ago with 2,387 notes - via thetimesinbetween © wintersoldierfell


klaine alternate meeting AU: they’re both stuck in terrible, terrible traffic, in separate cars ♥

Kurt is almost, almost onto the bridge when they suddenly stop doing the speed limit.

Damnit,” he hisses, watching brake lights flare up two by two in a streak down both lanes of traffic, as he eases his own on, too. The items strung across the garment rack rigged into the back seat sway gently into each other as the car rolls to a stop. Some jackass a few cars up blows his horn, for all the good that’s gonna do.

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posted 2 weeks ago with 572 notes - via threepwillow

Beginner’s Luck 5/9 (Kurt/Blaine, d/s AU) 


Beginner’s Luck
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, background Sam/Mercedes
Word count: 4,000 words this chapter
Rating: Explicit

Summary: D/s AU. At NYADA, he’s Blaine, a high-achieving student with lots of friends. At his part-time job, he’s Devon, professional sub at a clinic for doms. Kurt meets them both, but only falls for one.

Read the original GKM prompt here,

A/N: Continued thanks to damnpene and wowbright for beta-reading and encouragement. And to my sort of co-author for this chapter, Mr. Shakespeare, for the help.

Read on AO3 || PreviouslyChapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

There was nothing Kurt loved as much as performing. Even in a situation like this, where it was just him and his scene partner in the front of the classroom — no sets, no lights, no costumes, no stage — there was still the rush of bringing the words to life, and having everyone’s eyes on him in a way that he chose. Since his hormones had kicked into overdrive, he’d come to realize that for him performing was another sort of dominance: taking the whole audience in his hand and leading them through the experience he wanted them to have. It was exhilarating.

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posted 2 weeks ago with 73 notes - via chiasmuslovesme