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lady-divine-writes · 6 years ago

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Kurtbastian fic - “What You Deserve: Chapter 1/2 - The Life You Deserve” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Sebastian is making a huge change in his life, and he’s starting by going to Kurt, a man with a specific talent that will help Sebastian move on. (5312 words)

Notes: Written for the Kurtbastian hiatus project prompt ‘free day’. Warning for anxiety, forced relationship due to homophobia, mention of self-harm scars and (on an unrelated note) an image including blood. (No gore in this.)

I’m posting this again because 1) it’s been a bit refreshed and 2) I will be posting chapter 2 soon. Also, I’ve played with the title a bit because I think it better reflects the theme on the story. Also the rating has been changed to reflect upcoming sexual content.

Read on AO3.

Sebastian paces outside the run-down, red-bricked, residential loft that he had to bribe a taxi cab driver to take him to. He can honestly say that he has never feared for his life before tonight, so he can chalk this up as a first on his list of life experiences. He runs his hands up and down his arms while he tries to decide whether he will push the buzzer for the door or not.

No matter what happens, he came here willingly, so he has no one to blame but himself.

The loft is located on a filthy side street in Bushwick – a neighborhood in Brooklyn that Sebastian didn’t even know existed until a few months ago. He looks around at the stacks upon stacks of black trash bags, brittle and disintegrating in the cold, piled up along the curbs, left to degrade as the garbage trucks seem to have forgotten that Bushwick exists. Sebastian side-eyes a multitude of young men in black jackets with their faces covered shooting him curious looks. He had tried his best to dress down in an effort to blend in, but in his khaki pants and Burberry peacoat, he sticks out like a sore thumb. Sebastian is neither too proud nor ashamed to admit that this is definitely not his element. Yes, Sebastian could have probably lived happily the rest of his life having never come here, but now that he’s here, he’d feel like a coward if he backed out.

Sebastian hears footsteps race down a staircase beyond the metal door in front of him and pauses in his tracks to see who’ll come out. Maybe he can slip through the door quietly when whoever on the other side leaves and continue his pacing inside. But the door only opens a crack big enough for a man’s face to peek out – an unnaturally pale face with a shock of teal hair sticking up from his forehead, and piercings on almost every conceivable piece of skin. His lipstick is dark purple, nearly black, though it’s difficult to tell the subtle differences beneath the orange glow of the arc sodium street lights. He stares at Sebastian – icy blue eyes ringed in black liner – not blinking for nearly a full minute, which Sebastian finds alarming.

“Are you coming upstairs?” those dark lips say in a high-pitched voice that Sebastian did not initially expect, but which fits the face. “Or are you going to pace back and forth out here all night? You’re making my neighbors nervous.” His eyes look past Sebastian to the group of young men in the black jackets that Sebastian had been wary of. With a nod and a smile, he says, “Don’t worry, guys. This one’s with me.”

“Cool.”

“Alright.”

“Later, dude.”

The men wave, giving Sebastian one last judgmental once over before turning down the street and disappearing around the corner.

“Why?” Sebastian asks with a twist to his lips. “Did they think I was casing the joint?”

The pale man’s right eyebrow shoots almost as far up as his teal hair, the smirk on his lips mirroring Sebastian’s.

“Sort of.” He opens the door wider and steps aside to let Sebastian in. “You look like a fucking narc.” Sebastian hurries through the door, shivering the moment the heat of the hallway hits him, and catches the pale man shaking his head. “Casing the joint.” He chuckles as he closes the door, throwing about fifteen bolts to lock it tight. “Who the hell are you? Columbo?”

“I’m Sebastian, actually,” he replies lamely, following the man as he leads him up the stairs.

“I know that,” the man says, throwing a look over his shoulder. “I was keeping an eye out for you. You’re not the kind of man who usually comes all the way out to Bushwick looking for my particular services.”

“Really?” Sebastian asks, intrigued. “And what kind of man am I?”

“Privileged,” the man answers quickly. “Private school boy, a captain of industry who’s lost his way and is struggling to find himself. But you can afford to. You have more money than you deserve.”

“Wow,” Sebastian says with a dry, unamused chuckle. “You definitely don’t pull punches.”

“Don’t need to.” The man turns a corner and starts up another long staircase. “You’re paying to be here, and your credit card’s already cleared.”

“Wait” - Sebastian finally catches on to something the man said before - “you were watching me for the last half hour while I was outside freezing my ass off?”

“Yup,” the man says unapologetically. “From my fire escape.”

“Why didn’t you let me in earlier?” A latent chill runs up Sebastian’s spine to remind him how cold it is outside.

“Because I wanted to see what you’d do.” The man turns another corner to yet another staircase. “Besides, our appointment is for eight, and it’s eight right now.”

Sebastian looks up past the man at the remaining stairs and groans internally. Who the hell lives in an apartment with this many stairs and no elevator?

“Do you know who I am?” the man asks when Sebastian goes quiet.

“Your name’s Kurt, right?” Sebastian hopes he’s right. He has the feeling that this man - who he’s about to become very intimate with in the next few minutes - will be extremely offended if he’s not.

“Very good,” Kurt says with a smile that the devil himself might wear on Sundays. It makes Sebastian nervous.

It almost makes him miss the time he spent waiting outside.

“Are … are you allowed to be doing this out of your loft?” Sebastian scans the staircase around them, the awkwardly long steps and the antique scrolled wood railing an odd contrast to the otherwise industrial feel of the building.

“These are working lofts. The people who live here are artists who conduct their business out of their homes. And since what I do qualifies as an art, so do I.”

“You think so?” The words slip out before Sebastian can stop them, and he mentally slaps himself.

Kurt walks up to the next landing in silence, leading Sebastian down a hall to one of the only two doors on the floor. Sebastian waits for the fall-out from his arrogant remark, but Kurt smiles wider and winks at him.

“I know so.” He grabs the handle and slides the immense door open, gesturing for Sebastian to enter.

Sebastian turns a circle as he walks, looking the loft over. It’s a dark space - oppressively dark, a reflection of the unsafe atmosphere of the street outside. The walls are brick, but painted in abstract swirling patterns that fluoresce under the numerous black lights hanging from tracks installed along the beams of the ceiling. Art prints hang everywhere, alongside mirrors that make this enormous space seem even bigger. Kurt owns a whole lot of nothing furniture-wise. Sebastian sees a kitchen with no table, a living room with no sofa. The only furniture in the whole loft, it seems, are two chairs over by the window, and a king-sized bed off to the far end.

It’s the bed that has Sebastian captivated. It looks pristinely made, with a designer comforter tucked in above crisp, white sheets, and a mass of pillows in all sizes stacked neatly along the headboard.

Kurt snaps his fingers in Sebastian’s face as he passes in front of him, drawing his attention to the two chairs by the window – one a regular rolling stool, and the other a large, vintage barber’s chair. Kurt settles down in the rolling stool and pulls up to a black counter that had been obscured from view originally by the shadows in the room. Kurt flips on a few lamps, and bright white light floods that corner of the loft.

Sebastian approaches the barber’s chair, peeling off his peacoat and swallowing hard. He has sudden flashbacks of an old CSI episode he once saw where some mob guy would castrate men in a chair just like this one. As he gets closer, he notices that it looks impeccably clean. Castration would probably leave a lot of blood stains, stains that even a really thorough person might miss, so the fact that this chair looks brand new has to count for something.

Sebastian drapes his coat over the back of the chair and sits down, the thick, red vinyl cushions sucking him in, squeaking loudly as it accommodates his weight. It’s the kind of chair you have to recline in. The moment his back touches it, he feels himself relax, even though his mind is still a whirlwind of alarms.

It’s the same reaction he gets when he goes to the dentist – knots in his stomach as he checks himself in, a momentary façade of calm as he sits in the chair and makes himself comfortable …

… then the dentist walks in, the drill comes out, and all he wants to do is scream and run.

Sebastian watches Kurt set up his station – laying out inks and making adjustments to his tattoo gun – feeling less inclined to scream or run than he thought he would. Kurt steps on a pedal and listens to his machine buzz, then shuts it off and makes more adjustments.

Sebastian’s brain aches with a need to interrogate this man on everything from his stark apartment to the color of his hair, but only one question burns to be asked.

“Are you really psychic?”

“I have a reputation for having certain abilities.” Kurt steps on the pedal again. “But no answer I give you will matter if you don’t think I am.”

Kurt glances at Sebastian, his brief stare a challenge.

“I don’t believe in psychics.” Sebastian folds his hands in his lap and looks up at the ceiling where a row of black bulbs glow a metallic purple, lending color to Kurt’s skin when he rolls in and out of their light.

“Then why are you here? There are tons of tattoo artists in this city. I’m sure you could find one closer to you. Or, at least, in a safer neighborhood.”

“Because, like you said, my credit card already cleared,” Sebastian replies, being as evasive as possible. If Kurt really is psychic, then he should know why Sebastian is there, waiting to be tortured.

“Why are you here?” Kurt repeats, paying no mind to Sebastian’s snarky remark. Sebastian frowns. He was trying to prove a point, which he may have well done, but he’ll feel like an ass making an issue of it.

“You came highly recommended,” he says, which is as close to the truth as anything else.

“By Andy, right?” Kurt puts his gun down and pulls out a box of latex gloves. “The chick with the circular rainbow on her shoulder?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian nods, not wanting to sound impressed that this man seemed to know off the top of his head who Sebastian had mentioned recommending him when he made this appointment over six months ago. “She said you gave it to her for good luck.”

Kurt looks up at the note of derision in Sebastian’s voice that he can’t seem to hide. He carries it like it’s embedded in his DNA. “What? You don’t think the poor woman deserves a little luck?”

Sebastian agrees in his mind that she does. After three failed marriages and two miscarriages, the woman deserves all the luck she can get, but Sebastian doesn’t see how a tattoo is supposed to give that to her. Sebastian stays tight-lipped about it as he watches Kurt prepare. Kurt sees the determined set of Sebastian’s mouth and rolls his eyes.

“What were you thinking about getting?” He turns in his stool to face Sebastian, giving him his complete attention.

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me what I want?” Sebastian asks with a bitter edge. “Isn’t that your shtick? My body is your canvas or some shit?”

Kurt chuckles. He sits with his back resting against his counter and looks at Sebastian again, this time taking particular interest in his eyes. Kurt stares until Sebastian feels uneasy with his eyes on him, staring like he knows too much – staring like he knows everything. Kurt licks his lips, reaching to his counter and grabbing a bottle of water.

“You don’t really want to get a tattoo,” Kurt starts, taking a drink from the bottle before he continues. “That’s why you’re so willing to put the decision in my hands. Not because you think I have any real psychic talent. And you’re right. I don’t.”

“So, what am I …?”

“You’re paying for the benefit of my expertise.” Kurt stands and walks over to Sebastian. Placing one knee between Sebastian’s legs and leaning in close, he grabs Sebastian by the jaw and tilts his head down so he can look deeper into his eyes. Again he stares, the blacks of his pupils wider now, pushing the blue of his irises aside, making his eyes look very much like an owl’s – dangerous and unreadable. “You’re changing lives,” Kurt whispers, his breath ghosting over Sebastian’s lips at this close distance, “job, address, the whole shebang. And you’re here because you need to cover up some … scars …” Kurt’s eyes drift down to the long sleeves of Sebastian’s dress shirt, pulled down to his wrists and buttoned tight at the cuffs.

Kurt looks back up to Sebastian’s face, but instead of inscrutable and cold, his eyes are sympathetic.

It’s a sympathy that borders on pity, and Sebastian doesn’t want pity.

“So, you’re a good guesser.” Sebastian darts his gaze away, feeling exposed and violated that this man figured him out so easily when his closest friends and family haven’t even tried. “Besides, everybody’s got scars. That doesn’t make me any different.” Kurt pulls away slowly, standing up straighter, his fingers trailing down Sebastian’s arm, brushing his wrist before they disappear. He stares again, and Sebastian feels as if another layer of his soul is being stripped bare. He’s about to give up, stand from the chair and leave, a thousand dollars be damned, but Kurt’s eyes drop back to Sebastian’s cuff and, with swift fingers, he starts to undo the buttons.

“This one’s the worst,” Kurt mumbles as he works the buttons open. “Your left wrist, because you’re right-handed.”

Sebastian’s rational mind thinks he should pull his wrist away before Kurt sees, but his heart – which has been screaming out for weeks for someone to notice that nothing is okay in his life, that he’s in unbearable pain – wants Kurt to see.

He wants someone to share the burden of his secret.

Kurt undoes the last button, but the marks had been visible after the first, and Kurt looks at the silvery shadows of these violent, angry scars with regret in his eyes.

He doesn’t like uncovering people’s secrets – he just happens to be good at it.

“I … I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Sebastian says, his hand trembling beneath Kurt’s fingers.

“I know,” Kurt says softly. “I can help you with this.” The caress of his eyes on Sebastian’s skin is soft, but his fingertips are softer. “What did your wife say when she found out?”

Kurt doesn’t look up when he asks his question, working now on the buttons of Sebastian’s right cuff to see the matching marks. He doesn’t need to see Sebastian’s face to know his eyes are wide and his jaw is hanging open.

“How did you …?”

“The tan line on your left ring finger.” Kurt undoes the last button and runs his fingers delicately over the scars he uncovers there. “It’s narrow, part of a matching set, but not something a man would normally choose for himself unless he had small hands, and you …” Kurt lets a smile slip as he opens Sebastian’s curled fingers “… definitely do not have small hands.”

Sebastian’s return smile wobbles at the corners. “She hasn’t yet. I left her. I didn’t give her a reason.”

“But the reason is you don’t love her. You never did,” Kurt declares boldly, and even though it’s true, Sebastian flinches. “You had to marry her” - Kurt laces their fingers together - “but your heart never beat that way.”

Kurt looks even deeper into Sebastian’s eyes (and how that’s possible, Sebastian doesn’t know), trying to unearth more, but Sebastian can’t imagine there’s anything more there for Kurt to see. It’s true, all of it, but it doesn’t feel like truth because Sebastian hasn’t confessed it.

He needs to start speaking for himself.

“I married her because I was expected to.”

Kurt unlaces their fingers, stepping away to take his seat. He rolls Sebastian’s sleeve up to his elbow and grabs his tattoo gun. He turns the machine on and dips the needles in a cup of ink. The machine buzzes like an angry wasp in Kurt’s hands, but he holds it still, the needles barely an inch above Sebastian’s skin.

“Keep talking,” Kurt commands, waiting patiently for Sebastian to continue.

“My father …” the words come out, then a hiss as Kurt touches the machine and their driving needles into the sensitive skin of Sebastian’s wrist.

“Yes,” Kurt says, concentrating on the mark he’s made, blending the red ink with a silver scar.

“My father is old money, so to speak,” Sebastian grinds out between his teeth, scolding himself in his head for being a wuss. “He’s also an asshole, a misogynist … a homophobe …”

“A Republican?” Kurt gives Sebastian only a moment to breathe while he switches inks. Sebastian uses that moment to chuckle before the needles hit his skin again.

“My dad makes Republicans look compassionate.” Sebastian bites his tongue to keep from embarrassing himself by whimpering.

Kurt whistles low. “Jesus. That sucks.”

Sebastian makes a fist and Kurt looks at him - squinting into the darkness, his jaw locked, his face tense, his breathing coming a little too fast.

“Try to relax, sweetheart,” Kurt says in a soothing voice, “or you’re going to pass out before we’re even halfway done.”

Sebastian takes in a huge lungful of air and lets it out slowly.

“That’s better,” Kurt says, assaulting Sebastian’s skin with the gun again. “So, tell me more about this asshole father of yours.”

“Well …” Sebastian searches for a good place in his story to start. If he starts at the very beginning, then he’ll have to mention the constant badgering he got to strive for good grades and the threats if he didn’t succeed, if he didn’t become the captain of his school’s lacrosse team or the head of the debate team, and the emotional manipulation that led him to Harvard instead of NYU. So he decides to start with his wife, Clarice. “My dad wants Smythe money to stay in the family – to be passed down from generation to generation. For that to happen, he needed his son – his only son – to get married and have kids. ”

“Did you ever tell him the truth?”

Sebastian looks at Kurt, hoping to see those icy eyes trained on him, but Kurt’s total focus is narrowed to the image erupting beneath his gun.

“No,” Sebastian admits, scowling at his own weak voice. “He started pressing me to find a wife since the day I started college – which was about when I had finally become comfortable with the idea of …” Sebastian stops mid-sentence, not yet comfortable with speaking his own truth out loud. Even now, as he is beginning to realize what is right for him, it still sounds wrong to say.

The gun stops biting into his flesh, and Kurt does look up, tilting his head as he reads Sebastian’s eyes.

“The idea of exploring your sexuality?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“Did you ever?” Kurt’s voice is strangely shy when he asks, though it could be the buzzing from the tattoo gun, Sebastian thinks, distorting the timbre of Kurt’s voice.

“A few times. But you know, I felt so Goddamned guilty that I didn’t even enjoy it.” Sebastian laughs out of anger, then hisses when the needles find another sensitive area of skin.

“That’s a shame.” Kurt stops to grab a paper towel. He wets it, then wipes down the image so far. The soothing sensation lasts only a second before Sebastian’s skin ignites beneath the tattoo gun again. “Did you meet your wife in college?”

“No, she’s a … friend of the family.” Sebastian’s description is vague and Kurt leaves it. “She was kind of chosen for me.”

“Was it an arranged marriage?”

“No, not arranged. It was greatly encouraged.” Sebastian sighs. “It might have well been arranged. By the time I asked her to marry me, I couldn’t care less either way. I had been hounded and threatened with everything from being disowned to being locked away. She was as good as anyone else. The worst part is she’s such a lovely woman. She deserves so much better.”

“You both do.” Kurt wipes the tattoo down again. He returns to his work, and the studio goes silent, the buzz of the machine filling the air with its constant drone. Sebastian keeps his eyes fixed to the ceiling, intent on not peeking at the image until Kurt is done with it. He feels Kurt finish with his left arm – over three hours’ worth of work – and spin the barber’s chair around so he can move on to the right.

“Where were you thinking of running?” Kurt pipes up halfway through the right arm.

“Hmmm?” Sebastian asks. His mind had started wandering – going over all the details, all the moments that had led up to this point. Was there ever a time where 5-, 10-, 16-year-old Sebastian could have stood up to his father? In retrospect, there were times where he might have been able to confront his father and act braver than he felt, but the reality is no. His father is a man that most grown adults don’t like to talk to – not because he’s so intimidating, but because there isn’t any point in it. His father doesn’t listen to anyone.

Sebastian also thought about those boys he experimented with in college.

Adam – soft spoken, beautiful Adam. Musical theater major. At first, Sebastian thought the idea of majoring in musical theater was ridiculous, but he squashed that when he realized that was his father in him talking. Adam had such a beautiful voice, such a way with music. He had the heart of a poet, and the soul of a performer. He was meant for the stage. Sebastian has never looked him up, but he hopes he got there.

Elliott –poli sci major. Energetic. Dreamer. Determined to make a difference in the world, both politically and with the help of his punk rock band. Sebastian was certain that Elliott, with his glam leather outfits and glitter rock vamp make-up, was the edgiest man he had ever met, but he’s sure that Kurt could give him a run for his money.

Hunter – the only one of the bunch who had any chance of understanding what Sebastian was going through. He had a strict, conservative upbringing; a father he could never make proud; and a trust fund whose existence hedged on his constant obedience. But unlike Sebastian, Hunter had the balls to spit in his father’s face and split – and the business-minded brilliance to siphon away his trust fund from underneath his dad’s nose without the man being any the wiser.

Could any of those men have been the love of Sebastian’s life? If he had sacrificed a little here, compromised a little there, would any one of them have made him happy enough to bid his family and his inheritance farewell?

He even let his mind drift to another universe where he and Kurt could have met a long time ago, maybe even gone to the same school together. Kurt is so easy to talk to. Maybe it’s an occupational hazard, spending so much time with people, listening to their life stories. Tattoos are very personal, or so he’d always been told by the few people he knew who had them. In order to dish out a thousand dollars for a custom tattoo, sight unseen, from a man with “psychic abilities”, you have to have one hell of a story to tell. Kurt must have heard them all. Sebastian would think he’d get tired of listening after a while, but Kurt doesn’t seem to. He’s worked hard to reveal Sebastian’s story, though he probably doesn’t have to do that with everyone.

The one thing that Sebastian has noticed the entire time he’s been in that barber’s chair is that Kurt hasn’t revealed a single tidbit from his own life, not a morsel of his backstory. Sebastian is dying to get to know him better. Something about Kurt clicks in his head, like a key opening a rusty lock.

What would it take to get Kurt to reveal his secrets?

“You’re running away,” Kurt says, his comment bringing Sebastian back to the present. “Do you have an idea which direction you’re headed?”

“No, not really,” Sebastian admits, which is one of the flaws in his plan. He took back his freedom, took control of his life. Now he needs to figure out what to do with it. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“Well” - Kurt rolls back to his counter to change inks - “I think I would just travel America. Don’t look for any one particular destination. Make the whole country your destination, but,” Kurt says pointedly, returning to Sebastian’s arm, “I would definitely start in California.”

“California?”

“Yeah.” Kurt finishes the shading on Sebastian’s tattoo, then sits back in his stool to take a look. “Start off in San Francisco and start your own sexual revolution. Then hit the beach, get some sun. Head out to the desert. Glory in the big blue sky and all the quiet. Sleep in your car. Make friends with the locals. Eat some peyote. Find some enlightenment.”

“It sounds like you’ve done it once or twice.”

“Loads. As often as I can get away.” Kurt turns off his gun and sets it down carefully. He wets another paper towel and pats down Sebastian’s tattoo. He pulls Sebastian’s arms together to get a look at the images side by side, giving them a final review. “There.” He gets up and turns on a few more lights. “Take a look.”

Sebastian doesn’t look down right away. He takes a deep breath, counts to three. What Kurt has put on his arms isn’t just a tattoo. It’s a jumping off point for the rest of his life. So, like starting any journey, he has to convince himself it’s time.

But if not now, when?

He looks down, absorbing the image now permanently etched on his arms. The colors are vibrant. That’s the first thing that hits him. More vibrant than he would have chosen if given the option. On his right arm, Kurt has tattooed a rose in black and white. It looks hyper-real, like it was printed from an old photograph, but the rose itself is withering, curling at the petals, drawing back toward itself as it begins to die. The stem of the rose goes from brown to green and seems to weave through his skin, breaking in and out of his arm, leaving drops of blood in its wake. The stem becomes a vine, and the vine grows thorns – ragged, sharp thorns. The vine continues on to the next arm and becomes wire – razor wire that curls and coils. It spirals at his forearm around a heart – an anatomically correct, extraordinarily authentic looking human heart. Sebastian stares at it, and the more he does, the more it looks like it’s pulsing, thrumming on his skin, trying to break free from its metal cage. The heart bleeds, but it still beats in protest, and in the very center where the heart bleeds most, Sebastian can see the razor wire starting to break.

But most importantly, the stem and the vines and the wires perfectly cover the scars that ran down Sebastian’s skin. Nothing of them remains.

“It’s … it’s perfect.” Sebastian turns his arms to catch the way the colors light up his skin. “How did you …?”

Kurt taps his finger against his forehead. “Intuition. That’s all.”

“Well, you’re an amazing artist.” Sebastian can’t stop smiling at the art on his skin, but he’s still a bit unsure. “It’s just …”

“Just, what?” Kurt asks as he starts putting his inks away.

“It’s so personal, so incredibly spot on. What do I tell people when they ask me what it means?”

Kurt lifts his eyes to meet Sebastian’s, his gaze unforgiving.

“You got that tattoo for you, Sebastian.” Kurt walks up to him and puts his hands on his upper arms, pinning him to the chair with the intensity of his stare. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation.” Kurt’s lips crinkle sideways as he goes back to his counter. “Besides,” he says, not meeting Sebastian’s eyes again, “the guy you’re going to be thinking about your entire trip, the one that you’ll come back to when you decide that New York will always be your home, he’ll understand what it means.” Kurt returns with a handful of black pads and surgical tape. He spreads a light layer of clear ointment over Sebastian’s tattoo, then covers it with the pads, layering them so that the tape doesn’t touch the tatted skin. He pulls Sebastian’s sleeves down to cover those areas and does the buttons up again.

The entire time Kurt stands in front of him, dressing him, Sebastian holds his breath, trying to decipher what man? Who could Kurt mean? Could he possibly be referring to …?

“Now, if you go to my website,” Kurt says, giving Sebastian a hand up, “I have all the information you’ll need for taking care of that tattoo.” He reaches past Sebastian to grab his coat, opens it, and helps him into it.

“How can I repay you?” Sebastian asks, at a loss for how to express his gratitude, but he’s also hoping he can parlay this into a roundabout way of asking Kurt out to dinner.

“Technically, you already paid me.” Kurt takes Sebastian’s hand and leads him from the loft. With every step toward the exit, Sebastian feels his chance with this man slip away, and he realizes that regardless of his “taking charge of his life” and his painful tattoo to the contrary, he’s still a coward.

Otherwise, he would just open his mouth and ask Kurt out to dinner.

But he doesn’t.

He steps outside, and the cold air hits him hard. He turns to face Kurt, and the man with the icy blue eyes smiles.

“Thanks again,” Sebastian says, stalling for time.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt replies, the door creaking slowly shut. Then it stops. “Actually, there is one more thing.” He walks out the door and into Sebastian’s space, quickly threading his fingers into his hair and fitting their mouths together.

It’s not a long kiss, but it’s a powerful one. It warms Sebastian straight to his feet in his shoes and to the roots of his hair where Kurt tugs lightly. Sebastian’s arms come up to hold him, winding around his narrow waist, hands crawling up his back, begging for something more. But suddenly Kurt steps away, leaving Sebastian to chase his lips.

Sebastian opens his eyes and looks into Kurt’s smiling face. “Why … why did you do that?”

Kurt shrugs.

“Because I wanted to. Because you needed me to.” Kurt backs away toward his loft door and slips through. “Call me when you get back. You can take me out to dinner.” He closes the door for good this time, leaving Sebastian out in a cold he no longer feels.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #Frankie writes

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youbetterworkcovergirl · 5 years ago

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2020 Movies

Batman: Under The Red Hood

Pump Up The Volume

A Country Wedding

Cool As Ice

Surprised By Love

Life With Mikey

True Romance

All of My Heart: Inn Love

Absentia

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Tell Me Who I Am

Sweetheart

Growing the Big One

All Things Valentine

Step Up All In

Love On A Limb

Love Struck Cafe

Drop Zone

Girl on the Third Floor

Hard Rain

Sightseers

Switchback

Mobsters

Campfire Kisses

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Little Darlings

Streetdance

Malevolence

Good Boys

Midnight Masquerade

Killer: Malevolence 3

Dinner for Schmucks

Fractured

Nightmares in Red, White and Blue

Testament

The Unauthorized Beverly Hills 90210 Story

The Killing Secret

Countdown

Joker

I See You

Satisfaction

Grease 2

Terminator: Dark Fate

Ghost

In Fear

Sister Act 2

Grease Live

Gretel and Hansel

I Know My First Name Is Steven

Mother, May I Sleep With Danger

Hostile Advances

Hidden in Silence

Miss Americana

The Murder of Nicole Brown Simpson

Doctor Sleep

Grave Encounters

Hairspray Live

Sister Act

Dad

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Mausoleum

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The Barn

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Climax

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One Night In October

Top Gun

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Mad City

The Mummy

The Vatican Tapes

Miss Americana

P.S. I Still Love You

Payback

The Ugly

Just Cause

Incident in a Ghostland

Camp Cold Brook

Goodbye World

The Neighbour

Grandview, USA

The Mummy

Assimilate

It Comes At Night

Midway

It’s A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood

Hiroshima

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Mercy Black

The House That Jack Built

21 Bridges

The Crash Reel

Jojo Rabbit

Marauders

Eden Lake

102 Minutes That Changed America

White Light/Black Rain

After Parkland

The Farewell

Frozen II

The Devil’s Own

Scooby-Doo: Return to Zombie Island

Candyman 2

Candyman 3

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Headless Horseman

The First Purge

The Purge

Haunted Honeymoon

Charlie’s Angels

Contagion

Hail, Satan?

The Purge: Anarchy

The Purge: Election Year

Lisa

The Killing Room

The Hunted

Chain Reaction

Kingsmen: The Secret Service

Body Bags

Rings

Ruin Me

A Quiet Place

Seven In Heaven

World War Z

Outbreak

Lost Girls

Dark Waters

Glass

Black Christmas (2019)

The Incredible Hulk

The Phantom of the Opera

The Believers

Sinster

And The Band Played On

The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia

93 Days

The Last Broadast

The Spy Who Dumped Me

Asylum

Train to Busan

The Grudge

Killer Workout

Good Will Hunting

Murder in New Hampshire

Demolition High

Legacy of Fear

The Last of the Manson Girls

The Fear Footage

Smoke and Mirrors: The Story of Tom Savini

Humanoids From The Deep

Richard Jewell

Just Mercy

Animal Among Us

Sleepers

Scare Me

The 6th Friend

Opera

We Were Here

The Origin of Aids

Birds of Prey

Dolittle

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Family Portrait

The Moors Murders

Where is Robert Fisher?

Valentine Road

West of Salem

Rise of Skywalker

Butterfly Kisses

Savage Streets

Ghostheads

Born Innocent

American Experience: Blackout

Anatomy of a Seduction

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning

Texas Chainsaw 3D

Antrium

A.M.I

Not Since You

The Money Pit

Violation of Trust

Love’s Deadly Triangle

Underwater

Onward

Cruel Doubt

Extraction

Bombshell

Spies in Disguise

Bad Boys for Life

The Stalker Club

Mississippi Burning

Choose

Little Shop of Horrors

Tourist Trap

Contamination

Street Trash

American Animals

The Warriors

Waco: The Rules of Engagement

Chain Letter

Return to Horror High

Free Willy

Don’t Tell Mom The Babysitter’s Dead

Rookie of the Year

Where The Boys Are

Little Big League

Cool Runnings

Honey, I Shrunk The Kids

Connie and Carla

A Star is Born

Hangman

Friends with Benefits

Cam

The Platform

How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days

Brave

VFW

Bushwick

Mission Impossible: Fallout

In The Deep Woods

C.H.U.D

Monday at 11:01 am

13 Eerie

The 13th Man

Square One

Monsters Wanted

The Man In The Red Bandanna

Hotel Artemis

Bedeviled

Terror on the 44th Floor

Patriot Games

The Mandela Effect

The Aristocats

Oliver and Company

Goodnight Mommy

The Manson Family Massacre

The Lodge

Savage Weekend

Bloody Murder 2

Seoul Station

Are You Scared

The Stay Awake

Kemper

Fantasy Island

To Hell and Back: The Kane Hodder Story

Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon

The Scream Team

Phantom of the Megaplex

Mom’s Got A Date With A Vampire

Panic Button

Madhouse

The Turning

Brahms: The Boy II

The Invisible Man

Scream Queen! My Nightmare on Elm Street

The Cover Up

I Am Not Your Negro

The House That Dripped Blood

Inkubus

Trucks

The Way Back

Innocent Blood

The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas

The American Nightmare

Rhinestone

Guyana Tragedy

Raze

13th

1BR

Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School

Storage 24

Dead Man’s Curve

Sick School

Hair

Most Valuable Players

The Day the 60s Died

February One

Freedom Summer

Devil’s Playground

Knowing

Lethal Weapon

I Still Know What You Did Last Summer

The Postcard Killings

A Chorus Line

City of Angels

Brian Banks

The Redwood Massacre

101 Dalmations

Zootopia

Tales From The Crypt: Demon Knight

Murder in the First

Dragnet

Black Rock

Hamilton

We Summon the Darkness

Behind You

Swing Shift

High Spirits

V for Vendetta

The Gallows Act II

Edge of the Axe

The Peanuts Movie

Better Off Single

The Marshes

Dude Bro Party Massacre III

Extracurricular

Grizzly Man

What Keeps You Alive

Body Count

Miss You Already

The House In Between

We Are Your Friends

Witches in the Woods

Scoob!

Exhibit A

American Tragedy

7500

976-Evil II

Abattoir

Invasion

Descent

Extremity

Scare Package

Some Kind of Hate

Inheritance

Resistance

The Others

The Furies

Host

In Search of Darkness

Ginger Snaps

Corey Haim Me, Myself and I

Body Cam

Victims

The Forgotten West Memphis Three

Spooky House

The Boyfriend School

The Wretched

Amityville 1992

After Midnight

The Wretched

Halloween With The New Addams Family

Into The Grizzly Maze

Rabid (2019)

Max Relod and the Nether Blasters

The Monster Club

Nightmares

Criminal Law

From Beyond

Slaughterhouse Rulez

I Trapped The Devil

Gleaming the Cube

Freaks

The Flintstones Meet Rockula and Frankenstone

Shadow of Doubt

Perfect Stranger

Howl

Abbott and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

That Was Then This Is Now

Incarnate

Twitches

American Fright Fest

Excision

The Gray Man

Beg

Open 24 Hours

Wer

The Scare House

Girl House

Fear

Chernobyl Hour by Hour

The Babysitter: Killer Queen

The Tingler

Repo Man

The Honor List

Defenseless

Don’t Open Til Christmas

Phantom of the Mall: Eric’s Revenge

10/31

Children of the Corn: The Gathering

Children of the Corn II

Widow’s Point

Children of the Corn V: Fields of Terror

Children of the Corn 666: Issac’s Return

Love, Fall and Order

Blair Witch

The Frightening

The Blair Witch Project

Becky

Random Acts of Violence

Spiral

Scare Me

American Murder

Cannibal Holocaust

Perfect Little Angels

Farm House

The Hole

Gossip

Ghost of Goodnight Lane

The Haunting

Twin Towers

Guerilla The Taking of Patty Hearst

Greystone Park

The Cleansing Hour

Adam Resurrected

Aiborne

Let’s Scare Julie

September 11

Happy Halloween Scooby-Doo

The Dentist

Tales From the Hood 2

Beneath

All You’ve Got

The Mortuary Collection

The Trial of the Chicago 7

Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers

Dolly Patron: Here I Am

Conspiracy: The Trial of the Chicago 8

The Video Dead

The Lie

Scream: The Inside Story

The Omen Legacy

Still Screaming

Tiny Toons’ Night Ghoulery

The Last Days

One Day In Semptember

A Stranger Among the Living

Trick

After Midnight

Black X-mas

American Mary

Amusement

Cursed

The Den

The Forsaken

Fright Night

Antebellum

Blood Vessel

Survival of the Film Freaks

Batman

10 Things I Hate About You

I Am Nancy

Never Sleep Again

Mischief Night

Saw II

Bill and Ted Face The Music

Saw III

Saw IV

Christmas Made to Order

Olaf’s Frozen Adventure

Pride and Prejudice and Mistletoe

Direct To Video

Saw V

A Very Merry Mix up

Christmas At Pemberley Manor

Sense, Sensible and Snowmen

A Joyous Christmas

Anna

Run

Train to Busan: Pennisula

#Alive

Christmas Camp

Witchboard

Porno

Road to Christmas

Friendsgiving

Zombies

If Anything Happens I Love You

Diana In Her Own Words

Christmas On The Square

Unhinged

Amish Grace

Polytechnique

The Only Way

The Wolf of Snow Hollow

Soul

Freaky

The Rental

Relic

Unlawful Entry

White House Down

The Craft: Legacy

Christmas in Connecticut

Absence of Malice

6 Souls

10.5 Apocalypse

13 Hours

A Shoe Addict’s Christmas

A Stranger Among Us

9/11 The Day That Changed The World

No Escape

A Country Christmas Story

Dolly Patron’s Christmas Coat of Many Colors: Circle of Love

Smiley Face Killers

Death of Me

Detective Pikachu

One October

The Broken Hearts Gallery

A Cheerful Christmas

Head Count

Hamilton: One Shot To Broadway

Fire in the Sky

Fade to Black

Children of the Corn: Revelation

Children of the Corn: Genesis

Children of the Corn III

Blind Faith

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lilyvandersteen · 6 years ago

Note

What shortish (under 10k) one shots would you recommend that are meet-cutes and/or pining? Thanks!

Oooh, this is going to be a long list, Nonnie! Thanks for asking :-) Hugs, Marjan

Accessories by @hazelandglasz

Inspired by @tacogrande’s art on Tumblr : http://tacogrande.tumblr.com/post/156495579892/i-also-did-a-lil-au-where-blaine-is-just-always

All The Toys by Petalene

Fill for the GKM. The five times Blaine went into a sex toy shop and the one time he came out with something really good.

Auto Shops, Show Tunes and Happiness by @sunshineoptimismandangels

This is for coffeegleek wo prompted:Kurt has had to take over his dad’s shop & Blaine comes to get his car fixed, hears Kurt singing - AU meet cute, they’re 20-30+. Maybe Kurt does local community theatre.

Blind Date by @bookqueen101

Tumblr Prompt: We’re both meant to be going on blind dates with other people but we sat down at the wrong table and got our hopes up.

Connections by @alilactree

A prompt from imnotimperfectlyperfect, Klaine alternate meeting: Blaine sees Kurt on the subway and misses his chance to talk to him, so he resorts to using an ad to find him again. This probably turned out to be a lot sillier than you were hoping, sorry about that. Warnings: Blaine goes on faily dates with other canon characters.

Dial 1 for Kurt by @starangel148

One day, as luck would have it, Kurt answered a call to his dorm phone even though he call was most likely for his playboy roommate. The rest is serendipity. AU Kurt/Blaine, set in college.

Don’t make me over by @klaineanummel

Kurt thinks today will just be an average day; he’ll go to work, he’ll pine for his friend-with-benefits Blaine (who he desperately wants to become more), and he’ll remind his boss for the millionth time that he doesn’t want to be set up with her son. It goes pretty much as he expects… well, sort of.

Flowers Verse by @hazelandglasz

Blaine just wants to get a bunch of flowers to his grandma.Little did he know that the Subway can lead to some interesting meetings …

Fools Rush In by @black-john-lennon

Elvis once sang “Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you”

Blaine and Sam might be those guys.

Free Pizza to Make You Smile by @princehummel

A short, cheesy (pun super intended) Valentine’s Day meet-cute. A bit late, but whatever.

It’s Valentine’s Day, but Kurt has too much homework and not enough boyfriend (in other words, no boyfriend) to properly celebrate. But there’s no law that says he can’t celebrate with himself, his laptop, and a special pizza.

Getting Out the Vote, 2016 – Feel the Bern! by @nightingale63

Klaine AU – Kurt and Blaine never met in high school, and are college students in New York who return to Ohio for spring break to volunteer for Bernie Sanders’ campaign. Meet cute entails!

Gift with Purchase by @lady-divine-writes

To prepare for a big audition, Tina takes Blaine to Sephora for a little freshening up, where Blaine meets the sales associate of his dreams.

Got A Sweet Tooth For You by @hazelandglasz

anonymous asked:I have one I have one! So, it’s AU. Blaine is scared to go to dentist (feel you, bb) and his tooth hurts more and more everyday. So finally, he mans up and goes. And meets the sexiest dentist ever.

Here Comes The Sun Salutation by @invisibleraven

Blaine has a work mandate to lower his stress levels by attending a yoga class. Which he goes to straight from work in a suit…

Here to fix all of your problems by @fictionallylost

Rachel calls for a handyman to come and fix her and Kurt’s loft’s heating problems, then leaves Kurt home alone to await the assistance. Who do you think comes to his rescue? ;)

Hold Onto The Handrail by @antarcticbird

hazelandglasz prompted: the subway brakes too strongly and bam, au meeting ?

If These Pages Could Tell A Story by @controlofwhatido

Isabelle Wright has written another book and is about to go on tour with it. Kurt’s job, as her assistant, is to make sure every location is up to speed with Isabelle’s requests. When Kurt e-mails Anderson’s Bookshop, he certainly doesn’t expect their correspondence to go past the first couple perfunctory responses…

Instant Boyfriend by @scrapmom2112

One minute Kurt is having coffee and minding his own business and the next he has a boyfriend…what? AU. Just another way for Kurt and Blaine to meet, and it’s at the Lima Bean, of course.

Kink(O)s by @hazelandglasz

Prompt : one of them want to print something, maybe a calendar with hot guys and the other one is the hot printer?

Let It Snow by @antarcticbird

Snowed in at an airport on the 24th of December, with no cell phone reception and Cooper + family for company.

Love Shack by @hkvoyage

On a sweltering hot summer’s evening, Kurt discovers a new cheesecake bakery in his Bushwick neighborhood. He soon realizes the true meaning of Valentine’s Day. An alternative meeting, written for the 2016 Klaine Valentines Challenge on Tumblr.

Night Work by @honeysucklepink

This was written for the KBL Reversebang Hiatus Challenge. I got a photo of a dog with a pumpkin and three items/things to include in my story: “Pharmacy,” “Sweats (clothing),” and “Stars.” And then on top of that I got awesome art from Jen (homemadedarkmark)! Thanks Jen! Also thanks to kurtswish for the beta. This is a simple “meet-cute,” hope you enjoy (in spite of it being Halloween-themed while way past Halloween)!

Of BFF’s and Shoes by @a-simple-rainbow

I decided to mesh together a fuckload of tropes/prompts. From the text to the wrong number, to meeting in an elevator. Mostly it’s funny and stupid. Apologies to anyone who likes high heeled converse all stars.

Of Sad Movies and Kind Strangers by @hadelli

Kurt’s week couldn’t get any worse.Because is there anything more pathetic than crying in a movie theatre, alone?Probably not, right?Right??

On Boundaries and Harvard Law by @klaineanummel

Burt gives Kurt’s number to a total stranger.

Overcoming a Break-Up by @mailroomorder

Kurt knows what it’s like to lose a nicely tailored jacket in the city, and he wouldn’t want that to happen to someone else. So when someone leaves their jacket at the restaurant Kurt works at, he figures the least he can do is return it to its rightful owner. Even if said owner did dine and dash, forcing Kurt to pay his bill.

Overcoming Gravity by @alilactree

From @prompt-a-klainefic:

I just discovered that you can buy vibrators at the airport, but while i was trying to load my bag into the overhead compartment on the plane, it fell out and landed right in your lap.

Poke-Klaine by @nightingale63

AU where Blaine went to NYADA but Kurt went to FIT (and Kurt never went to Dalton). A fun, fluffy meet-cute – enjoy!

Raspberry Rain by @lovetheblazer

kurt-and-blaine-anderhummel prompted: I haven’t slept in like 3 days everything is funny and your hair smells really good (where Kurt is the one that hasn’t slept and Blaine sits next to him in class and he keeps leaning his head on Blaine’s shoulder and keeps telling Blaine that his hair smells good from his scented hair gel). Klaine Alternative Meeting AU

Return to Sender by @skivvysupreme

Kurt’s shifts at the Spotlight Diner keep turning into complete trainwrecks, and it’s all the hot UPS guy’s fault. Sort of. (Though, in all fairness, Kurt has always had a certain weakness for men in uniforms.)

Tell Me All Your Secrets by @lady-divine-writes

After being cheated on by his boyfriend for the tenth time, Kurt comes home, ready to surrender to a good cry and sleep. But when he can’t sleep, he checks his voice mail and finds a bunch of drunken messages from a wrong number, but his mysterious caller might be the answer to getting over his scumbag ex.

The Bookshelf by @klainjel

In which Blaine stumbles into a bookstore in search of a birthday present and finds so much more

The Concert Experience by BlurtItAllOut

Wes and David have a spare concert ticket, and asks Blaine to tag along. He may not be so very interested in the headliner, but there are others to feast his eyes on. This will be a concert experience to remember.

The Effects of Cookies on Shy Teenagers by @musiclovingbitch

ADJACENT STANDS AT THE FARMER’S MARKET AU

The Man With The Hippo-Head Brooch by @borogroves

A passing encounter on the London Underground leaves Blaine trying to track down a beautiful stranger.

Welcome to the New Age by @itspartofmyjealousy

A love story told through NYADA’s Snapchat

What Dreams Are Made Of by @bluecloudsupabove/ca_te

Just when Kurt thought New York couldn’t get more perfect, he stumbled upon Blaine.

#klaine fanfiction #meet cute fic recs #pining fic recs #under 10K #enjoy!

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nicks-lunchbox-service · 3 years ago

Photo

4.12.22 Lunchtime drawing: Grilled! in Bushwick, is “quite possibly becoming the world’s first dentist-owned vegan burger and sandwich shop. Owned by entrepreneur and vegan activist Andrew DellaPietra, DDS.”/p>

#nickslunchboxservice #grilled #grilledvegannyc #storefront #brooklyn #bushwick #watercolor #watercolorpainting #vegan #veganrestaurant #drawing #drawingaday #paintingaday

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thequeensfan1117 · 6 years ago

Text

Wisdom and Care (Draft 1)

Fandom: Glee Summary: Kurt tends to Adam after a trip to the dentist. Characters: Kurt Hummel, Adam Crawford Note: Written for Kadam Week 2017. Day 3 Prompt: “One of the guys has wisdom tooth/teeth out (or other dental misery) and needs a little TLC.”

Kurt slid the door to the loft open with a little more difficulty than usual. Adam was still a little woozy from whatever dosage of Novocaine the dentist had given him, and as such, he wobbled from time to time on the way back to Bushwick. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw him lean back against the wall opposite the door so as to hold himself up better. He worked on getting it completely open, and as soon as it was, he went over to his boyfriend and held him steady while the two of them crossed the threshold.

“Easy does it,” Kurt cooed.

He walked with Adam to the couch and set him down in a sitting position. Once he was sure that Adam wouldn’t fall off, he crossed the loft and closed the door again. On his way back, he stopped at the kitchen area in order to grab a towel and the ice pack Santana had purchased after one of Kurt’s mishaps.

“Kuht – ”

He quickly rushed back to Adam’s side and sat on the couch facing him. With a soft shushing noise, he lifted the pack and pressed it gently to Adam’s cheek. Despite a little fidgeting, he eventually relaxed into Kurt. The two held onto each other’s hands almost on instinct.

“Try not to talk too much, love,” Kurt said.

Adam nodded quite reluctantly.

“You said he said the bleeding should stop by tomorrow?”

Another nod. Kurt smiled and continued to press the ice pack against Adam. He hoped that it would help soothe the pain a little bit. Even if Adam didn’t need very much help, Kurt knew he would feel quite useless if he did nothing for his boyfriend. However, he didn’t know how Adam would take his need to be there for him during the first 24 hours. Would he freak out and demand that Kurt back off?

“That’s good. Maybe then you can watch over the Apples practice even if you can’t sing with us for a while.”

Kurt found that he could barely stop himself from speaking, and wondered why that was. He wasn’t exactly panicking over the whole issue, and neither was Adam. There was therefore no immediate need for them to soothe each other’s nerves.

“‘id we ge’ gaushe?” Adam asked all of a sudden.

“Gauze?” Kurt repeated immediately.

At his boyfriend’s nod, he realized that they hadn’t stopped at all on the way to the loft. Kurt was just about to mentally kick himself for that realization until he remembered there was a box of gauze pads in the bathroom area. There had yet been no need to use them, but he and Rachel always insisted on having a full first-aid kit in case something happened to either one of them or to Santana. After all, one never knew what injuries one could sustain while performing in front of a crowd.

“We didn’t get any, but there’s some in here,” he said at last. “Hang on. I’ll go get it.”

As he went to get it, however, he felt one of Adam’s hands take a hold of his wrist. He turned around curiously and found himself looking deeply into those blue eyes.

“’hank you,” Adam said simply.

Despite the temptation to simply remind him to not speak if he could avoid it, Kurt smiled and addressed him softly.

“What for?”

Adam seemed to need a few seconds to process what he’d just asked. Evidently the Novocaine hadn’t yet begun to wear off.

“Been wi’ me,” was the reply.

Kurt could barely make out what his boyfriend said, at first. But as he finally caught the meaning of the words, his small smile grew just a little bigger. He took Adam’s free hand with his own and squeezed it lightly.

“Of course I’m here with you. I know we haven’t been together very long, but I.. I care about you so much.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kurt felt his cheeks growing hot. He reluctantly freed himself from his boyfriend’s grasp and hurried to the bathroom. As sweet as Adam was, their relationship was still very new. No. He had to be positive here. Opening the medicine cabinet and grabbing the gauze (along with a bottle of Advil just in case), he went back to the couch and prepared to face Adam’s response head-on.

Adam looked as if he were about to pass out as he removed the ice pack from his cheek in order to pull the gauze pad away from the back of his mouth. Focusing on a pulling a fresh pad out of the box instead of on the bloody one on the floor, he handed it over.

“I brought the ibuprofen, too, in case it hurts too much,” he said absently.

Adam said nothing as he gently bit down on the new gauze pad. However, judging by the look in his eyes, Kurt really had nothing to fear after what he’s just said. It might have been entirely too early for use of the ‘l’ word, but he knew that as long as he could stand by the handsome Englishman, that didn’t really matter at the moment.

#glee fic #kadam fic

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mid-something · 4 years ago

Text

2020 Year in Review

I wasn’t going to write one of these this year. I wasn’t sure what the point was, normally they’re a list of accomplishments, places I went, projects I worked on, events I planned. But I feel like I didn’t do anything this year. It was a year that felt more like college, with long days that melded together into walks and work sessions. I loved it, but it also lacked the intensity that usually pumps through the months. As I started writing this though, it was surprisingly easy to fill, even without my usual go-tos like travel filling it in.

Speaking of travel

Okay, I did hop around the east coast a bit. In January I went up to Montreal for Synchrony once again. I spent the trip up making a PICO-8 sketch of the snow falling around our train up north.

Later, in February, I went up to Pennsylvania to volunteer as a performer for a LARP for the first time. I played an animal, a cult member taking part in a sacrifice that included biting into a giant cake heart (that everyone was touching, so much for that world), and played a hellhound bringing people back to a mystery portal in the middle of a field. We camped and hiked and took day-trips to Wawa for lunch.

My last trip was to Nashville Tennessee for a library conference. I loved it, library conferences are much less vendor-focused than ed-tech ones. I got a suitcase full of free books that I’m still reading my way through. My co-worker and I stayed in cool Airbnbs and found our way to a speakeasy inside an old phone booth. I had never been to Nashville, but thought it was like a cool weird Disney land with great food and incredible music around every corner.

Afterwards I headed down to Florida to see my grandparents for a week, and then went back to New York... and didn’t go anywhere for the rest of the year. A couple weeks after I got back to my Brooklyn apartment I packed a bag and headed upstate for the next three months to play animal crossing and hang out with my parents and dog.

Coding Club

When schools shut down, a couple things happened. First, we put our school product available online for free. Second, I started a coding club for kids who were home from school. I met with kids for an hour twice a week, and really saw them grow and experiment with code. It grew to a few hundred kids each week, all meeting up to code along and share their work. I was able to get a better feel for how teachers used our product, and was able to test out project ideas live. It was such a joy, and my favorite part of my job during that time.

Livecoding in Space

I co-organized Livecoding in Space at the start of shutdown. It was a day of workshops and an evening algorave that was originally going to take place at the Kennedy Center. I made the website, ran the lineup, and managed the Twitch stream the whole day, and somehow got a p5 workshop and performance livecoding visuals to a series of poets in there at the same time. It was wild, super fun, and I’m really glad I did it.

Performances

I continued the Twitch streak performing with musicians at sPaCYcLoUd Livecode Thursdays, bringing in what I was learning at monthly shaders workshops. Working in GLSL was a completely different experience than working with Hydra, I was much more limited with a much higher chance of things going wrong. I moved more slowly, and was really able to get lost in the performances in a way I hadn’t before.

NYC

Back in New York City in the summer, everything was boarded up. Bars had tables outside, and people were in scattered groups around Astor Place. We went out one night on St. Marks and bought pre-bottled drinks from a place that had once been an impossible to get into bar. Cop cars were driving up and down the street announcing for us to stay apart on their loudspeakers. The whole thing felt very apocalyptic. We played tennis in courts without nets, with piles of leaves that no one had cleaned up since all the parks were technically still closed. I spent time walking around Manhattan and Brooklyn, more than I ever did before. I walked 13 miles to the dentist and back, walked over the Williamsburg bridge over and over again. I met up with friends to practice skateboarding, I walked up to the Williamsburg park for a picnic with friends, I walked to Bushwick for the same. I got better at electric unicycling and did yoga in different parks staring at the trees. And when I settled back into my Bed Stuy apartment John would come over every weekend and we’d cook and get work done. I’ve never been happier in my life.

Art?

I got much better at painting this year, which is something I had wanted to experiment more with for a while. I finally understand the difference between supplies and the benefits of good paper and brushes. I took part in virtual figure drawing sessions and around the world painting lessons.

I did a lot of figure drawing this year, most of it was online. My favorite, however, was at a place called Outerspace in Brooklyn. It was an hour walk from my apartment, and I loved the walk there through Bushwick and back. I went a few times, sometimes walking back in the dark past the largest church in Brooklyn, sometimes grabbing food in one of my favorite parts of the city and taking an uber after. Figure drawing online gave me the space (literally, usually I’d be too close to other people to have them out) to start experimenting with paints, something that followed my practice throughout the year.

In March, my friend who’s an elementary school art teacher started posting her prompts for her class online, which was an awesome first way to get back into traditional sketchbooking on the floor of my bedroom upstate. Above are some of the elementary-school art prompts that kept me occupied this Spring.

I also followed along with someone I had followed on Instagram, Travel Write Draw. The whole thing was definitely a bit out of my comfort zone, my sketchbooks tend to skew stranger and she comes from the fashion world, but I had always wanted to paint more and took part. The paintings above are in the order I did them, I think I got a lot better as we went through. The places are in order: Rome, Marrakesh, Capri, Cartagena, the Serengeti, and Paris at Christmastime.

Over the summer I took part in Arsiliath’s Intro to Biological Simulation with Compute Shaders. The above are some of the experiments from the class. I read math papers and implemented them for the first time.

&...

I applied to grad school, which took up most of my free time and energy this fall. Nothing to share here yet, I’ll know what’s up around March/April. I took the GREs as well, and did surprisingly well given I haven’t taken a test in about a decade.

I’m heading out to Mars now, a remote spot in Southern California, to wait out the winter and try and make the most out of a weird quarantine world. I wonder if this should be longer or more interesting, end in bullets of things I can feel proud of from my 20′s. I don’t know. When you come back to this 2021 Leandra, I hope you’re happy and have finally found your footing in a world that feels like it’s constantly trying to drown you with the next wave.

#year in review

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broadwayfamilydental · 7 days ago

Text

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Want to schedule your next appointment? Contact us today! 📍 Broadway Family Dental 📞 (718) 455-4400 🌐 https://www.broadwayfamilydentalpc.com/

#dental center #dentistry center #dental office #bushwick dentist #dentist in bushwick #dentistry

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pipitographer · 5 years ago

Photo

Running past the dentist, in #bushwick #brooklyn #spicollective #streetleaks #blackandwhite https://www.instagram.com/p/B11M04mBnKt/?igshid=n8tr979mxujd

#bushwick #brooklyn #spicollective #streetleaks #blackandwhite

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superblogarticles-blog · 5 years ago

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All You Need To Know About Dental Implants

Why do you need a dental implant?

A Dental Implant is a surgically placed dental component. You can get a dental implant placed surgically if you’ve lost one of your teeth. The surgery can seem scary if it’s your first time hence, before getting yourself a dental implant if you’ve come across this blog, I hope it helps you understand the process and the do’s and don’ts of the surgery.

Overview

The implant is usually made of titanium and is surgically placed by a dentist or dental specialist such as an oral surgeon. These screw-like parts are placed into the jawbone and are meant to imitate the root of the tooth.

How long the dental implant surgery takes:

Restoring your mouth with a dental implant is accomplished in two phases and the whole process can take six to nine months. It may take longer if an extraction needs to heal or bone grafts are required before the posts are implanted.

Is It Painful?

Just as with any surgery, there can be some discomfort. Local anesthesia and/or IV for oral sedation are used to eliminate any pain at the time of the procedure. Most patients report that they were much more comfortable following the procedure than they had anticipated. Your doctor will prescribe medications to ease any discomfort that may occur.

Phases of Dental Implant

The First Phase

For the surgical placement of the implant, your mouth will be thoroughly numbed with local anesthesia.

An incision is made in your gums where the implant will go to expose the bone underneath.

A specialized (but quiet) drill will then be used to create a space for the implant in the bone.

The implant itself is then screwed in place with either a hand tool or the same implant drill used to create the initial space.

After the implant is snugly in place, a second component will be screwed into the implant itself and will remain in place during the healing process.

The gums are closed over the implant and a stitch or two may be placed.

Over the course of the next few months, the implant becomes securely attached to the bone.

The Second Phase

The second phase starts with the re-exposure of the implant. Another small incision is made in your gums to expose the implant unless there was a separate component placed on the implant that sits above the gums.

A small extension is placed on the implant for an impression taken. This component is what the lab will use to fit your new crown.

Your dentist will then start a series of appointments to make your new implant crown. Though some of the steps might be different in your case, they usually include making impressions of your teeth. From these impressions, they will make precise working models of your mouth, which are carefully mounted for proper alignment. Your crown is fabricated on these models.

The last step is the final placement of your new crown. In some cases, depending on which tooth is being restored, the dentist may want to try in the new crown before it is completely finished to check the shape and fit of it in your mouth.

Post-Surgery Discomfort

It is typical to have some minor bruises and swelling in the gum and soft tissues. Usually, the discomfort, if any, is treated with an ordinary painkiller, such as ibuprofen, hydrocodone, or codeine.

You should expect to be able to work the next day.

P.s: The dental implant’s success solely depends upon your decision of choosing the right dental center. If you’re nearby in dental implant greenpoint Brooklyn or bushwick Brooklyn

#Dental Implant #dentist #dental implant greenpoint Brooklyn #Brooklyn #Health #teeth whitening

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changoblanco · 6 years ago

Photo

#dentist #nycstreets #bushwick #brooklynstreets (at Bushwick, Brooklyn) https://www.instagram.com/p/BqsGkmghC0T/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1oa5mfxpl83ku

#dentist #nycstreets #bushwick #brooklynstreets

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years ago

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Klaine one-shot - “The Life You Think You Deserve” (Rated PG13)

Blaine is making a huge change in his life. He’s starting by going to Kurt, a man with a specific talent that will help him move on. (5274 words)

Notes (or, in this case, petty commentary. Read if you want, or skip to the warnings down below): This is the re-write that I was actually the most excited about because it's kind of a huge f-u to everyone in the K*urtbastian fandom who's ever sh*t on my work. When I wrote this, it was a character study. But it actually got torn apart by two fandom writers - one K*urtbastian and one multishipper. One of them even made a post on tumblr about how I don't write Sebastian, I write badboy Blaine and pass him off as Sebastian, and this fic was the focus of that. Well, I thought this one was touching and brilliant, and hopefully, now that I've changed it, it will get the love I think it deserves! (See what I did there? I ... well, never mind.)

Warnings for mention of self-harm scars, mention of blood, and mention of Blaine being married to Quinn.

Skank Kurt. Closeted Blaine.

Read on AO3.

Blaine paces outside the run-down, red-bricked, residential loft that he had to bribe a taxi cab driver to take him to. He can honestly say that he has never feared for his life before tonight, so he can chalk this up as a first on his list of life experiences. He runs his hands up and down his arms while he tries to decide whether he will push the buzzer for the door or not. No matter what happens, he came here willingly, so he has no one to blame but himself.

The loft is located on a filthy side street in Bushwick – a neighborhood in Brooklyn that Blaine didn’t even know existed until a few months ago. He looks around at the stacks upon stacks of black trash bags, some brittle and disintegrating in the cold, piled up along the curbs, left to degrade as the garbage trucks seem to have forgotten that Bushwick exists. Blaine side-eyes a multitude of young men in black jackets with their faces covered, all shooting him curious looks. He had tried his best to dress down in an effort to blend in, but in his khaki pants and Burberry peacoat, he sticks out like a sore thumb. Blaine is neither too proud nor ashamed to admit that this is definitely not his element. Yes, Blaine could have probably lived happily the rest of his life having never come here, but now that he’s here, he’d feel like a coward if he backed out.

Blaine hears footsteps race down a staircase beyond the metal door in front of him, and he pauses in his tracks to see who comes out. Maybe he can slip through the door quietly when whoever on the other side leaves and continue his pacing inside.

But the door only opens a crack, big enough for a man’s face to peek out – an unnaturally pale face with a shock of teal hair sticking up from his forehead, and piercings on almost every conceivable piece of skin. His lipstick is dark purple, nearly black, though it’s difficult to tell the subtle differences beneath the orange glow of the arc sodium street lights. He stares at Blaine – icy blue eyes ringed in black liner – not blinking for nearly a full minute, which Blaine finds alarming.

“Are you coming upstairs?” those dark lips say in a high-pitched voice that Blaine did not initially expect, but which fits the face. “Or are you going to pace back and forth out here all night? You’re making my neighbors nervous.” His eyes look past Blaine to the group of young men in the black jackets that Blaine had been wary of. With a nod and a smile, he says, “Don’t worry, guys. This one’s with me.”

“Cool.”

“Alright.”

“Later, dude.”

The men wave their way, giving Blaine one last judgmental once over before turning down the street and disappearing around the corner.

“Why?” Blaine asks with a twist to his lips. “Did they think I was casing the joint?”

The pale man’s right eyebrow shoots almost as far up as his teal hair, the smirk on his lips mirroring Blaine’s.

“Sort of.” He opens the door wider and steps aside to let Blaine in. “You look like a fucking narc.” Blaine walks through the door, shivering the moment the heat of the hallway hits him, and catches the pale man shaking his head. “Casing the joint.” He chuckles as he closes the door, throwing about fifteen bolts to lock it tight. “Who the hell are you? Columbo?”

“I’m Blaine, actually,” Blaine replies lamely, following the man as he leads him up the stairs.

“Really?” Blaine asks, intrigued. “And what kind of man am I?”

“Privileged,” the man answers quickly. “Private school boy. Artsy type, but you can afford to be. You have more money than you deserve.”

“Wow,” Blaine says with a dry, unamused chuckle. “You definitely don’t pull punches.”

“Don’t need to.” The man turns a corner and starts up another long staircase. “You’re paying to be here, and your credit card’s already cleared.”

“Wait” - Blaine finally catches on to something the man said before - “you were watching me for the last half hour while I was outside, freezing my butt off?”

“Yup,” the man says unapologetically. “From my fire escape.”

“Why didn’t you let me in earlier?” A latent chill runs up Blaine’s spine to remind him how cold it is outside.

“Because I wanted to see what you’d do.” The man turns another corner to yet another staircase. “Besides, our appointment is for eight, and it’s eight right now.”

Blaine looks up past the man at the remaining stairs and groans internally. Who the hell lives in an apartment with this many stairs and no elevator?

“Do you know who I am?” the man asks when Blaine goes quiet.

“Your name’s Kurt, right?” Blaine hopes he’s right. He has the feeling that this man - who he’s about to become very intimate with in the next few minutes - will be extremely offended if he’s not.

“Very good,” Kurt says with a smile that the devil himself might wear on Sundays. It makes Blaine nervous.

It almost makes him miss the time he spent waiting outside.

“Are … are you allowed to be doing this out of your loft?” Blaine scans the staircase around them, the awkwardly long steps and the antique scrolled wood railing an odd contrast to the otherwise industrial feel of the building.

“These are working lofts,” Kurt explains. “The people who live here are artists who conduct their business out of their homes. And since what I do qualifies as an art, so do I.”

“You think so?” The words slip out before Blaine can stop them, and he mentally slaps himself.

Kurt walks up to the next landing in silence and leads Blaine down a hall to one of the only two doors on the floor. Blaine waits for the fall-out from his arrogant remark, but Kurt smiles wider and winks at him.

“I know so.”

He grabs the handle and slides the immense door open. He gestures for Blaine to enter, following behind to secure the door.

Blaine turns a circle as he walks, looking the loft over. It’s a dark space – oppressively dark, a reflection of the unsafe atmosphere of the street outside. The walls are brick, but painted in abstract swirling patterns that fluoresce under the numerous black lights hanging from tracks installed along the beams of the ceiling. Art prints hang everywhere, alongside mirrors that make this enormous space seem even bigger. Kurt owns a whole lot of nothing furniture-wise. Blaine sees a kitchen with no table, a living room with no sofa. The only furniture in the whole loft, it seems, are two chairs over by the window, and a king-sized bed off to the far end.

It’s the bed that has Blaine captivated. It looks pristinely made, with a designer comforter tucked in above crisp, white sheets, and a mass of pillows in all sizes stacked neatly along the headboard.

Kurt snaps his fingers in Blaine’s face as he passes in front of him, drawing his attention to the two chairs by the window – one a regular rolling stool, and the other a large, vintage barber’s chair. Kurt settles down in the rolling stool and pulls up to a black counter, which had been obscured from view originally by the shadows in the room. Kurt flips on a few lamps, and bright white light floods that corner of the loft.

Blaine approaches the barber’s chair, peeling off his peacoat and swallowing hard. He has sudden flashbacks of an old CSI episode he once saw where some mob guy would castrate men in a chair just like this one. As he gets closer, he notices that it looks impeccably clean. Castration would probably leave a lot of blood stains – stains that even a really thorough person might miss - so the fact that this chair looks brand new has to count for something.

Blaine drapes his coat over the back of the chair and sits down, the thick, red vinyl cushions sucking him in, squeaking loudly as it accommodates his weight. It’s the kind of chair you have to recline in, and the moment his back touches it, he feels himself relax, even though his mind is still a whirlwind of alarms.

It’s the same reaction he gets when going to the dentist – knots in his stomach as he checks himself in, a momentary façade of calm as he sits in the chair and makes himself comfortable …

… then the dentist walks in, the drill comes out, and all he wants to do is scream and run.

Blaine watches Kurt set up his station – laying out inks and making adjustments to his tattoo gun – feeling less inclined to scream or run than he thought he would. Kurt steps on a pedal and listens to his machine buzz, then shuts it off and makes more adjustments.

Blaine’s brain aches with a need to interrogate this man on everything from his stark apartment to the color of his hair, but only one question burns to be asked.

“Are you really psychic?”

“I have a reputation for having certain abilities.” Kurt steps on the pedal again. “But no answer I give you will matter if you don’t think I am.”

Kurt glances at Blaine, his brief stare a challenge.

“I don’t believe in psychics.” Blaine folds his hands in his lap and looks up at the ceiling, where a row of black bulbs glow a metallic purple, lending color to Kurt’s skin when he rolls in and out of their light.

“Then why are you here? There are tons of tattoo artists in this city. I’m sure you could find one closer to you or, at least, in a safer neighborhood.”

“Because, like you said, my credit card already cleared,” Blaine replies, being as evasive as possible. If Kurt really is psychic, then he should know why Blaine is there, waiting to be tortured.

“Why are you here?” Kurt repeats, paying no mind to Blaine’s snarky remark. Blaine frowns. He was trying to prove a point, which he may have well proven, but he’ll feel like an ass making an issue of it.

“You came highly recommended,” Blaine says, which is as close to the truth as anything else.

“By Andy, right?” Kurt puts his gun down and pulls out a box of latex gloves. “The chick with the circular rainbow on her shoulder?”

“Yeah.” Blaine nods, not wanting to sound impressed that this man seemed to know off the top of his head who Blaine had mentioned recommending him when he made this appointment over six months ago. “She said you gave it to her for good luck.”

Kurt looks up at the note of derision in Blaine’s voice. “What? You don’t think the poor woman deserves a little luck?”

Blaine agrees in his mind that she does. After three failed marriages and two miscarriages, the woman deserves all the luck she can get, but Blaine doesn’t see how a tattoo is supposed to give that to her. Blaine stays tight-lipped about it as he watches Kurt prepare. Kurt sees the determined set of Blaine’s mouth and rolls his eyes.

“What were you thinking about getting?” Kurt turns in his stool to face Blaine, giving him his complete attention.

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me what I want? Isn’t that your shtick? My body is your canvas or something like that?”

Kurt chuckles. He sits with his back resting against his counter and looks at Blaine again, this time taking particular interest in Blaine’s eyes. Kurt stares until Blaine feels uneasy with this man’s eyes on him, staring like he knows too much – staring like he knows everything. Kurt licks his lips, reaching to his counter and grabbing a bottle of water.

“You don’t really want to get a tattoo,” Kurt starts, taking a drink from the bottle before he continues. “That’s why you’re so willing to put the decision into my hands. Not because you think I have any real psychic talent. And you’re right. I don’t.”

“So, what am I …?”

“You’re paying for the benefit of my expertise.” Kurt stands from his stool and walks over to Blaine. Placing one knee between Blaine’s legs and leaning in close, he grabs Blaine by the jaw and tilts his head down so he can look deeper into Blaine’s eyes. Again he stares, the blacks of his pupils wider now, pushing the blue of his irises aside, making his eyes look very much like an owl’s – dangerous and unreadable. “You’re changing lives,” Kurt whispers, his breath ghosting over Blaine’s lips at this close distance, “job, address, the whole shebang. And you’re here because you need to cover up some … scars …” Kurt’s eyes drift down to the long sleeves of Blaine’s dress shirt, pulled down to his wrists and buttoned tight at the cuffs.

Kurt looks back up to Blaine’s face, but instead of inscrutable and cold, his eyes are sympathetic.

It’s a sympathy that borders on pity, and Blaine doesn’t want pity.

“So, you’re a good guesser.” Blaine darts his eyes away, feeling exposed and violated that this man figured him out so easily when his closest friends and family haven’t even tried. “Besides, everybody’s got scars. That doesn’t make me any different.” Kurt pulls away slowly, standing up straighter, his fingers trailing down Blaine’s arm, brushing his wrist before they disappear. Kurt stares again, and Blaine feels as if another layer of his soul is being stripped bare. He’s about to give up, stand from the chair and leave, a thousand dollars be damned, but Kurt’s eyes drop back to Blaine’s cuff and, with swift fingers, he starts to undo the buttons.

“This one’s the worst,” Kurt mumbles as he works the buttons open. “Your left wrist, because you’re right-handed.”

Blaine’s rational mind thinks he should pull his wrist away before Kurt sees, but his heart – which has been screaming out for weeks for someone to notice that nothing is okay in his life, that he’s in unbearable pain – wants Kurt to see.

He wants someone to share the burden of his secret.

Kurt undoes the last button, but the marks had been visible after the first, and Kurt looks at the silvery shadows of these violent, angry scars with regret in his eyes.

He doesn’t like uncovering people’s secrets – he just happens to be good at it.

“I … I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Blaine says, his hand trembling slightly beneath Kurt’s fingers.

“I know,” Kurt says softly. “I can help you with this.” The caress of Kurt’s eyes on Blaine’s skin is soft, but his fingertips are softer. “What did your wife say when she found out?”

Kurt doesn’t look at Blaine’s face when he asks his question, working now on the buttons of his right cuff to see the matching marks. He doesn’t need to look at Blaine to see his wide eyes and his jaw hanging open.

“How did you …?”

“The tan line on your left ring finger.” Kurt undoes the last button and runs his fingers delicately over the scars he uncovers there. “It’s narrow, part of a matching set, but not something a man would normally choose for himself unless he had small hands, and you …” Kurt lets a smile slip as he opens Blaine’s curled fingers “… definitely do not have small hands.”

Blaine’s return smile wobbles at the corners.

“She hasn’t yet,” Blaine admits. “I left her. I didn’t give her a reason.”

“But the reason is you don’t love her. You never did,” Kurt declares boldly, and even though it’s true, Blaine flinches. “You had to marry her” - Kurt laces their fingers together - “but your heart never beat that way.”

Kurt looks even deeper into Blaine’s eyes (and how that’s possible, Blaine doesn’t know), trying to unearth more, but Blaine can’t imagine there’s anything more there for Kurt to see. It’s true, all of it, but it doesn’t feel like truth because Blaine hasn’t confessed it.

He needs to start speaking for himself.

“I married her because I was expected to.”

Kurt unlaces their fingers, stepping away to take his seat. He rolls Blaine’s sleeve up to his elbow and grabs his tattoo gun. He turns the machine on and dips the needles in a cup of ink. The machine buzzes like an angry wasp in Kurt’s hands, but he holds it still, the needles barely an inch above Blaine’s skin.

“Keep talking,” Kurt commands, waiting patiently for Blaine to continue.

“My father …” the words come out, then a hiss as Kurt touches the machine and their driving needles into the sensitive skin of Blaine’s wrist.

“Yes,” Kurt says, concentrating on the mark he’s made, blending the red ink with a silver scar.

“My father is new money, so to speak, so he’s always afraid of losing it,” Blaine grinds out between his teeth, scolding himself in his head for being a wuss. “He’s also an asshole, a misogynist … a homophobe …”

“A Republican?” Kurt gives Blaine only a moment to breathe while he switches inks.

“My dad makes Republicans look compassionate.” Blaine bites his tongue to keep from embarrassing himself by whimpering.

Kurt whistles low. “Jesus. That sucks.” Blaine makes a fist and Kurt looks at his face - squinting into the darkness, his jaw locked, his face tense, his breathing coming a little too fast. “Try to relax, sweetheart,” Kurt says in a soothing voice, “or you’re going to pass out before we’re even halfway done.”

Blaine takes in a huge lungful of air and lets it out slowly.

“That’s better,” Kurt says, assaulting Blaine’s skin with the gun again. “So, tell me more about this asshole father of yours.”

“Well …” Blaine searches for a good place in his story to start. If he starts at the very beginning, then he’ll have to mention the constant badgering he got to strive for good grades and the threats if he didn’t succeed, if he didn’t become the captain of his school’s nationally ranked show choir or the head of the debate team, and the emotional manipulation that led him to Harvard instead of NYU. So he decides to start with his wife, Quinn. “My dad wants Anderson money to stay in the family – to be passed down from generation to generation. For that to happen, he needed his sons to get married and have kids. My older brother, Cooper, did his part, but he’s not exactly responsible in my father’s eyes. He dropped out of college after two years, married his first girlfriend, has more kids than he can handle. So my dad put more pressure on me to fulfill his wishes. ”

“Did you ever tell him the truth?”

Blaine looks at Kurt, hoping to see those icy eyes trained on him, but Kurt’s total focus is narrowed to the image erupting beneath his gun.

“No,” Blaine admits, scowling at his own weak voice. “He started pressing me to find a wife since the day I started college – which was about when I had finally become comfortable with the idea of …” Blaine stops mid-sentence, not yet comfortable with speaking his own truth out loud. Even now, as he is beginning to realize what is right for him, it still sounds wrong to say.

The gun stops biting into his flesh, and Kurt does look up, tilting his head as he reads Blaine’s eyes.

“The idea of exploring your sexuality?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah.” Blaine looks away. “Exactly.”

“Did you ever?” Kurt’s voice is strangely shy when he asks, though it could be the buzzing from the tattoo gun, Blaine thinks, distorting the timbre of Kurt’s voice.

“A few times. But you know, I felt so Goddamned guilty that I didn’t even enjoy it.” Blaine laughs out of anger, then hisses when the needles find another sensitive area of skin.

“That’s a shame.” Kurt stops to grab a paper towel. He wets it, then wipes down the image so far. The soothing sensation lasts only a second before Blaine’s skin ignites beneath the tattoo gun again. “Did you meet your wife in college?”

“No, she’s a … friend of the family.” Blaine’s description is vague, and Kurt leaves it. “She was kind of chosen for me, so to speak.”

“Was it an arranged marriage?” Kurt asks incredulously without lifting his eyes from Blaine’s arm.

“No, not arranged.” Blaine laughs. “It was greatly encouraged.” Blaine sighs. “It might have well been arranged. By the time I asked her to marry me, I couldn’t care less either way. I had been hounded and threatened with everything from being disowned to being locked away. She was as good as anyone else.” Blaine shakes his head. “The worst part is she’s such a lovely woman. She deserves so much better.”

“You both do.” Kurt sighs, wiping the tattoo down again. He returns to his work, and the studio goes silent, the buzz of the machine filling the air with its constant drone. Blaine keeps his eyes fixed to the ceiling, intent on not peeking at the image until Kurt is done with it. He feels Kurt finish with his left arm – over three hours’ worth of work – and spin the barber’s chair around so he can move on to the right.

“Where were you thinking of running?” Kurt pipes up halfway through the right arm.

“Hmmm?” Blaine asks. His mind had started wandering – going over all the details, all the moments that had led up to this point. Was there ever a time where 5-, 10-, 16-year-old Blaine could have stood up to his father? In retrospect, there were times where he might have been able to confront his father and act braver than he felt, but the reality is no. His father is a man that most grown adults don’t like to talk to – not because he’s so intimidating, but because there isn’t any point in it. His father doesn’t listen to anyone.

Blaine let himself think about those boys he experimented with in college.

Sebastian – Blaine’s first, and by far the most sexually aggressive of the bunch. He was handsome, exciting, and inventive, to say the least, but not what you would call a one-man man.

He’s the one who broke Blaine’s heart.

Elliott –poli sci major. Energetic. Dreamer. Determined to make a difference in the world, both politically and with the help of his punk rock band. Blaine was certain that Elliott, with his glam leather outfits and glitter rock vamp make-up, was the edgiest man he had ever met, but he’s sure that Kurt could give him a run for his money.

Hunter – the only one of the bunch who had any chance of understanding what Blaine was going through. He had a strict, conservative upbringing; a father he could never make proud; and a trust fund whose existence hedged on his constant obedience. But unlike Blaine, Hunter had the balls to spit in his father’s face and split – and the business-minded brilliance to siphon away his trust fund from underneath his dad’s nose without the man being any the wiser.

Could any of those men have been the love of Blaine’s life? If he had sacrificed a little here, compromised a little there, would any one of them have made him happy enough to bid his family and his inheritance farewell?

He even let his mind drift to another universe where he and Kurt could have met a long time ago, maybe even gone to the same school together. Kurt is so easy to talk to. Maybe it’s an occupational hazard, spending so much time with people, listening to their life stories. Tattoos are very personal, or so he’d always been told by the few people he knew who had them. In order to dish out a thousand dollars for a custom tattoo, sight unseen, from a man with “psychic abilities”, you have to have one hell of a story to tell. Kurt must have heard them all. Blaine would think he’d get tired of listening after a while, but Kurt doesn’t seem to. He’s worked hard to reveal Blaine’s story, though he probably doesn’t have to do that with everyone.

The one thing that Blaine has noticed the entire time he’s been in that barber’s chair is that Kurt hasn’t revealed a single tidbit from his own life, not a morsel of his backstory. Blaine is dying to get to know him better.

What would it take to get Kurt to reveal his secrets?

“You’re running away,” Kurt says, his comment bringing Blaine back to the present. “Do you have an idea which direction you’re headed?”

“No, not really,” Blaine admits, which is one of the flaws in his plan. He took back his freedom, took control of his life. Now he needs to figure out what to do with it. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“Well” - Kurt rolls back to his counter to change inks - “I think I would just travel America. Don’t look for any one particular destination. Make the whole country your destination, but,” Kurt says pointedly, returning to Blaine’s arm, “I would definitely start in California.”

“California?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah,” Kurt says, finishing up the shading on Blaine’s tattoo. “Start off in San Francisco and start your own sexual revolution.” Kurt gives Blaine a wink before he continues. “Then hit the beach, get some sun. Head out to the desert. Glory in the big blue sky and all the quiet. Sleep in your car. Make friends with the locals. Eat some peyote. Find some enlightenment.”

“It sounds like you’ve done it once or twice.”

“Loads. As often as I can get away.” Kurt turns off his gun and sets it down carefully. He wets another paper towel and pats down Blaine’s tattoo. He pulls Blaine’s arms together to get a look at the images side by side, giving them a final review. “There.” Kurt gets up and turns on a few more lights. “Take a look.”

Blaine looks down, absorbing the image now permanently etched on his arms. The colors are vibrant – that’s the first thing that hits him – more vibrant than he would have chosen if given the option. On his right arm, Kurt has tattooed a rose in black and white. It looks hyper-real, like it was printed from an old photograph, but the rose itself is withering, curling at the petals, drawing back toward itself as it begins to die. The stem of the rose goes from brown to green and seems to weave through his skin, breaking in and out of his arm, leaving drops of blood in its wake – drops that look suspiciously like musical notes. The stem becomes a vine, and the vine grows thorns – horrible, sharp thorns. The vine continues on to the next arm and becomes wire – razor wire, that curls and coils. It spirals at his forearm around a heart – an anatomically correct, extraordinarily authentic looking human heart. Blaine stares at it, and the more he does, the more it looks like it’s pulsing, thrumming on his skin, trying to break free from its metal cage. The heart bleeds, but it still beats in protest, and in the very center where the heart bleeds most, Blaine can see the razor wire starting to break.

But most importantly, the stem and the vines and the notes and the wires perfectly cover the scars that ran down Blaine’s skin. Nothing of them remains.

“It’s … it’s perfect.” Blaine turns his arms to catch the way the colors light up his skin. “How did you …?”

Kurt taps his finger against his forehead.

“Intuition,” Kurt says. “That’s all.”

“Well, you’re an amazing artist.” Blaine can’t stop smiling at the art on his skin, but he’s still a bit unsure. “It’s just …”

“Just, what?” Kurt asks as he starts putting his inks away.

“It’s so personal. What do I tell people when they ask me what it means?”

Kurt lifts his eyes to meet Blaine’s, his gaze unforgiving.

“You got that tattoo for you, Blaine.” Kurt walks up to him and puts his hands on his upper arms, pinning him to the chair with the intensity of his stare. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation.” Kurt’s lips crinkle sideways as he goes back to his counter. “Besides,” he says, not meeting Blaine’s eyes again, “the guy you’re going to be thinking about your entire trip, the one that you’ll come back to when you decide that New York will always be your home, he’ll understand what it means.” Kurt returns with a handful of black pads and surgical tape. He spreads a light layer of clear ointment over Blaine’s tattoo, then covers it with the pads, layering them so that the tape doesn’t touch the healing skin. He pulls Blaine’s sleeves down to cover those areas, and does the buttons up again.

The entire time Kurt stands in front of him, dressing him, Blaine holds his breath, trying to decipher what man? Who could Kurt mean? Could he possibly be referring to …?

“Now, if you go to my website,” Kurt says, giving Blaine a hand up, “I have all the information you’ll need for taking care of that tattoo.” He reaches past Blaine to grab his coat, opens it up, and helps him into it.

“How can I repay you?” Blaine asks, at a loss for how to express his gratitude, but he’s also hoping he can parlay this into a roundabout way of asking Kurt out to dinner.

“Technically, you already paid me.” Kurt takes Blaine’s hand and leads him from the loft. With every step toward the exit, Blaine feels his chance with this man slip away, and he realizes that regardless of his “taking charge of his life” and his painful tattoo to the contrary, he’s still a coward.

Otherwise, he would just open his mouth and ask Kurt out to dinner.

But he doesn’t.

He steps outside, and the cold air hits him hard. He turns to face Kurt, and the man with the icy blue eyes smiles.

“Thanks again,” Blaine says, stalling for time.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt replies, the door creaking slowly shut. Then it stops. “Actually, there is one more thing.” He walks out the door and into Blaine’s space, quickly threading his fingers into his hair and fitting their mouths together.

It’s not a long kiss, but it’s a powerful one. It warms Blaine straight to his feet in his shoes and to the roots of his hair where Kurt tugs lightly. Blaine’s arms come up to hold him, winding around his narrow waist, hands crawling up his back, begging for something more. But suddenly Kurt steps away, leaving Blaine to chase his lips.

Blaine opens his eyes and looks into Kurt’s smiling face. “Why … why did you do that?”

Kurt shrugs.

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #frankie writes

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