darrenchristruelove:

abrwnigrl:

“LOVE”

THAT’S WHAT PATTY SAID.

I AM DEAD.

Yes, love Patty

glitterdammerung:

dinojay:

taken from a true situation from this morning

Next year I need an episode where Santana drinks the last of the Starbucks brew and abruptly learns that Blaine does not run on the power of rainbows and fairy sparkles, but on COPIUS amounts of caffeine

give it to me

It was Blaine’s first morning in New York, and consequently the first time Santana had ever seen him unshaven, puffy-eyed, and with hair like he’d stuck his finger in the faulty plug socket in the back corner of the bathroom that was going to kill someone one day. Wow.

“Weird, I didn’t hear Lady Hummel pounding you into the mattress last night, and yet here you are looking like you just got off the Bang Bus. Rough night, little buddy?” Santana sipped at her coffee and winced. She’d gotten distracted by the astonishing volume of Anderson’s hair and had added too much sugar, dammit. “How did you two even find the energy after moving all of your crap in?”

“Xqrblgvrtjk,” Blaine responded, not turning around to face her from where he was standing by the trash can, sounding like he was crumpling paper.

Well, that totally did not compute. “Uh, what?”

“Fnrrrrrrrgggggh,” came the explanation as Blaine turned around, crunching a ball of heavy brown paper between his hands. Was that an empty package of Starbucks beans? Ew, why was he going through the trash? Santana blinked and shook her head. Never mind. It was more important to figure out why Anderson had suddenly forgotten how to speak English. “What? What’s up? Did Berry steal your favorite bowtie for her hair?”

A growl rumbled in Blaine’s chest and his glare didn’t budge. It was starting to make Santana genuinely uncomfortable. “Seriously, Anderson, quit speaking in tongues. Puck didn’t teach me Neanderthal.” Taking two steps backwards, she was surprised to thud up against Kurt’s chest. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. Hot coffee splashed out of her mug and over her wrist. “Ow! Dammit -“

“Shhh.” Kurt clapped a hand over her mouth. “That’s the last of the coffee, isn’t it? Just…put the mug down on the table and we’ll slowly back away.”

Santana yanked her head free. “What? No! Mine.”

“Seriously, Santana if you value your life, put down the coffee.”

“But I -“

“Can get a new one on the way to work. Put down the coffee if you want to live.”

Grudgingly, she did so, snatching her hand away just in time as Blaine lunged forward and snatched the mug up, drinking it down like a man lost in the desert without water for a week. “Holy shit.”

Kurt yanked her backwards and away from the abruptly primal scene in the kitchen. “Yeah. Cooper told me once that when he went home to visit a couple years ago, he drank the last of the coffee one morning and Blaine’s reaction was so scary that Cooper recorded it on his phone and emailed the video to Mark Ruffalo as a reference for a Hulk-out.”

“You’re kidding.” Santana backed away into Kurt’s room with him, peeking between the curtains and watching Blaine with amazement. “I always thought he ran on, like, glitter and rainbows.”

Grimly, Kurt shook his head, watching as Blaine tore open a box of biscotti. “And god help you if you ever take the last cup of coffee and the last biscotti. I heard once that one Cheerio was in a neck brace for months after the big shortage at the Lima Bean…”

Looking at the cold fire of untold horrors in his eyes, and then watching Blaine viciously snap a biscuit in half before grunting and dunking it into the coffee, Santana could only gulp and shudder and nod her agreement.