#no more ladders for gilbert

[helianskies]

'please don't fall!' for PruSpa :)

why of course >:3

Ladder

“Do you want me to hold the ladder?”

“I'm fine, it's not that high!”

“It was just an offer!”

“Oh, God, be careful up there, Gilbert! Please don't fall!”

“No point appealing to him,” Mikkel tells Antonio, who has just wandered into the room. “Stubborn as hell, as always!”

“I’m fine, seriously,” Gilbert assures them both all the same. “Your concern is flattering, but totally unnecessary!”

The three of them are amongst a small group of volunteers (or ‘elves’ as it had been put) to help decorate ahead of the annual holiday get-together. This year, it has become Francis’ undertaking, but as if he was going to get up a ladder and decorate the Christmas tree himself! Gilbert has a list of strict instructions (which he’s mostly ignored so far) and as he approaches the top, he’s glad he’s nearly finished. 

But of course, being all the way up a ladder while decorating what was apparently a ten foot tall tree is ‘alarming’. Gilbert’s been dealing with Mikkel’s disguised worry for the last twenty minutes, but now that Antonio is now also here, he just knows it’ll worsen. Darn old men and their weak, weak knees! Not everyone is a liability!

As predicted, nevertheless—

“Do you want me to hold the ladder?” Antonio offers as well, hands on hips as he watches on from below. “Or maybe one of us should go up there instead…?”

Gilbert waves him off, and continues titivating the silvery tinsel. “I’m almost done,” he says by way of reassuring him, the worry-wart. 

“I’m gonna leave you to it,” Mikkel surrenders with a gentle sigh. “Reckon I’ll be more use elsewhere.”

“Yep!” Gilbert agrees, eyes still glued to his work. 

He hears some mumbling from below—Antonio and Mikkel exchanging some quiet words and a laugh about something, he notes—before one person’s footsteps pad away, and the room falls silent once more. 

The silence only lasts so long, though.

“I’m looking forward to tonight,” Antonio muses. A quick glance down reveals that he’s looking around the room, at the tall ceilings, the chandelier, the snow-adorned garlands… “Something about Fran’s parties are always so magical, don’t you think?”

Gilbert hums along to appease him. He isn’t sure if ‘magical’ is the word. But he will admit he enjoys these nights, the festivities, the friends, the laughter… That’s what the holidays have come to mean: spending time with the important people in his life while they can.

But then Gilbert finds himself, after a moment, looking down once more. Below him, Antonio is eyeing some of the decorations already on the tree—glass baubles, ceramic birds, hand-painted globes—and a small smile seems to have appeared on his face, eyes wide like a child in a sweet shop.

Antonio is an even bigger fan of the holidays. For the same reasons, at heart. But there’s a part of him that also just loves the lights, the ornaments, the wreaths—every little detail. And even if he maintains his traditions in January, Antonio has not shied away from Christmas Day celebrations either in recent years. Gilbert likes seeing him enjoy himself in that respect. There was a short period where his presence was… Well…

It’s good to see him. 

“Oh my gosh, I f—”

“FUCK—!”

“GILBERT!”

It happens so fast. There’s a wobble, then more wobbling, and then only falling.

It feels funny. A leg slips briefly between rungs—a misplaced foot is the root of his problems—and he feels himself fall backwards, light, helpless, fast. He braces himself in that single second to hit the ground—maybe even the ladder—to hit his head, or hurt his back, or land on a shoulder. Sustaining an injury is far from ideal, especially since these days he’s not quite so well-equipped to heal, but if he—

He does not hit the ground, but something just a little bit softer. Something that has arms that try to catch him, and something that inevitably falls down beneath his weight.

So much for not falling!

But that fall has repercussions, now, on more people than just himself. 

With a groan, Gilbert tries to move and get up. Antonio, however, who is beneath him and sprawled across the floor, asks him, strained and quiet, to stay put.

Gilbert worries. His arse hurts, as does his shin. He’s glad to see the ladder went towards the tree and that Francis’ baubles survived the ordeal, but…

“Are you okay?” he asks Antonio, who still holds him, arms wrapped around Gilbert’s torso. 

“Eh…” His breathing is a bit heavy, yet bated. “I thought I told you not to fall…”

“Yeah, well,” Gilbert scoffs, “you made me jump!”

“And you’re welcome for saving your neck!”

With that, Gilbert carefully pries himself from the other’s grasp and slowly sits up. Antonio softly groans, and decides to stay lying down; the other perches next to him, his own heart still racing a bit, and they look at each other.

The worry is certainly mutual.

“You okay?” Gilbert asks again, another layer to his question implied in the way his face morphs. 

“Sore,” Antonio says. “Gimme a minute. I’ll— I’ll be fine.”

“Idiot.”

“Well.” His smile returned, albeit somewhat mischievous. “After that, I guess you could say you—”

“Don’t.”

“—fell for me?”

“Ugh.”

“The heck happened to you two? I heard a scream!”

Gilbert rolls his head to the side and finds Mikkel, reemerged at just the right time, and in a dramatic display of surrender, he riffs a slew of curses and joins Antonio on the floor properly. 

Paying no mind to Mikkel’s presence, then, Antonio seeks out Gilbert’s hand and holds it gently in his own. It is warm. It is kind, in spite of what has just occurred between them. And Antonio looks at him with such warmth, too, and Gilbert looks back, and the other smiles once again, and Gilbert warms and buzzes and breathes and—

“No more ladders for you, Gil.”

“If you say so, Toni.”

And with that, their laughter only resumes.

[ fic collection on ao3! ] [ prompts list here! ]

#helia writes #hws spain #hws prussia #pruspa #no more ladders for gilbert #got a life ban #the first of the holiday fics had arriiiiived #i am working slowly thru them so do bear with #and thank you anon for requesting these buffoons 🍪 <3

[dev-solovey]

The answer is a walrus and I can explain why.

You know that episode of Unraveled where Brian David Gilbert goes through all the Smash Bros stages to figure out how many OSHA violations there are in each of them? The one where he finds the most violations is the stage that's actually supposed to be a construction site, simply because the fact that it is a construction site makes the violations easier to identify. It's easier to find regulations about a faulty ladder than it is to find regulations about like, a pit of lava.

I think the reason it's more baffling if a walrus shows up at our front door is because we have more concept of what that entails. Like, fairies are entirely a mystery, because they don't exist. The best we know about them are various tales about fairies, which differ from culture to culture, and there is no verifiable consensus information on them really. How did it get there? Fairy magic, idk. How do you get rid of it? Ask it to leave, it probably understands human speech. How do you react to this situation? Who fucking knows, it's a fairy.

But if a walrus showed up on our door, we do have some idea of how to react, because it's more grounded in things we already know. And we would have far more questions, because we have a better frame of reference for what it would take to get the walrus there, what the walrus might do, and what it would take to get it to leave. How did it get to my doorstep, in the middle of the desert? Did they fly it in on a helicopter? Why didn't I hear the helicopter? How did they keep it alive during the entire flight from San Diego to the Sonoran Desert? Is it a threat? How do I get rid of it? Call the police? What are they going to do about a wild animal that weighs as much as a car? Endangered species are protected by law - are walruses endangered? If they shoot it dead, will that cause controversy? Am I going to have reporters on my doorstep every day for the next month? Etc etc

I can get why some people would be more baffled to discover that fairies exist, but the problems presented are unknowable - and, given the very few bits of consensus information we have about them, they'd probably be a lot easier to interface with. A walrus is way more complicated, and probably more likely to gore you with it's tusks.

Anyway, I'm not sure how to end this but that's my thesis

#fairy walrus #walrus vs fairy #unraveled #brian david gilbert

[april-is]

April 8, 2024: As If to Demonstrate an Eclipse, Billy Collins

As If to Demonstrate an Eclipse Billy Collins

I pick an orange from a wicker basket and place it on the table to represent the sun. Then down at the other end a blue and white marble becomes the earth and nearby I lay the little moon of an aspirin.

I get a glass from a cabinet, open a bottle of wine, then I sit in a ladder-back chair, a benevolent god presiding over a miniature creation myth,

and I begin to sing a homemade canticle of thanks for this perfect little arrangement, for not making the earth too hot or cold not making it spin too fast or slow

so that the grove of orange trees and the owl become possible, not to mention the rolling wave, the play of clouds, geese in flight, and the Z of lightning on a dark lake.

Then I fill my glass again and give thanks for the trout, the oak, and the yellow feather,

singing the room full of shadows, as sun and earth and moon circle one another in their impeccable orbits and I get more and more cockeyed with gratitude.

--

Also: Seeing the Eclipse in Maine, Robert Bly

Enjoy today's eclipse, North America!

More space-related poems.

Today in:

2023: Neither Time Nor Grief is a Flat Circle, Christina Olson 2022: Pippi Longstocking, Sandra Simonds 2021: Waking After the Surgery, Leila Chatti 2020: Gutbucket, Kevin Young 2019: Insomnia, Linda Pastan 2018: How Many Nights, Galway Kinnell 2017: The Little Book of Hand Shadows, Deborah Digges 2016: Now I Pray, Kathy Engel 2015: Why I’m Here, Jacqueline Berger 2014: Snow, Aldo, Kate DiCamillo 2013: from The Escape, Philip Levine 2012: Thirst, Mary Oliver 2011: Getting Away with It, Jack Gilbert 2010: *turning, Annie Guthrie 2009: I Don’t Fear Death, Sandra Beasley 2008: The Dover Bitch, Anthony Hecht 2007: Death Comes To Me Again, A Girl, Dorianne Laux 2006: Up Jumped Spring, Al Young 2005: Old Women in Eliot Poems, David Wright

#billy collins #feast on your life #poetry #national poetry month

[samrut]

Lietpru + 🎄 Decorations... (christmas, pagan, etc.)

Tolys steadied the ladder as Gilbert hung a festive wreath above the meeting hall podium, embelished with sparkling red and white baubles.

"It is crooked," Tolys remarked.

"Shut up. It doesn't matter." Retorted Gilbert. "West forced me to volunteer for this shit; how the hell did I get stuck with you? You don't even celebrate Christmas."

"Alfred asked me to fill in for him."

"Ah, makes sense." Gilbert replied, grinning. "You've always been him and Braginsky's little pet."

The ladder was pushed over, and Gilbert crashed to the floor. His back struck the ground with such force, it left him momentarily breathless.

"What the fuck?" He rasped, pinned beneath the ladder's steel frame. "You could have seriously hurt me, you ass!" Gilbert shouted.

Tolys brought down his foot, applying pressure to the bars against his abdomen. With a chilling expression, he gave him a downward glance and replied, "Good."

Straining under the weight, Gilbert hissed back, "Fuck you."

Tolys rolled his eyes in exasperation, removing his foot to allow Gilbert to squirm free. He scrambled to his feet, lifting his sweater to inspect his stomach. The flesh had already begun to bruise, but thankfully, there did not seem to be any significant damage.

"There are a few more boxes in storage," Tolys muttered, walking in the direction of the hall.

Gilbert silently cursed under his breath and followed, making sure to maintain a safe distance. He had not noticed before, but there was a small bundle of mistletoe hanging in the doorway. A scarlet ribbon, tied neatly into a bow, held it in place.

Surveying it curiously, he asked, "Who put that there?"

Tolys halted and cocked his head. "Oh, Mr. Bonnefoy hung it."

Gilbert smirked. "Doesn't this mean you have to kiss me?"

Repulsed by the thought, Tolys sneered, "Absolutely not."

"Aw, come on, bitch boy. You worried you'll upset your owners?" Scoffed Gilbert, snickering. "Coward."

Scowling, Tolys narrowed his gaze and hastily approached him. Gilbert retreated back a step, but was seized by the collar and slammed against the doorframe. Slender fingers twisted through his hair, violently yanking back his head.

Gilbert winced, glaring up at him. A nervous grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and just as he was about to speak, a forceful kiss stopped him cold.

Frozen in place, Gilbert's eyes widened, stunned, as Tolys probed his mouth. His body relaxed, as if melting into him; their tongues entwined when, abruptly, Gilbert felt a sharp pain. He clasped a hand over his mouth, his tongue throbbing.

Tolys had bitten it. The taste of blood filled Gilbert's mouth.

In his ear, Tolys warned in a harsh whisper, "If you cannot hold your tongue, next time I will bite it off."

#lietpru #hetalia #my writing #ask box game #holiday prompt list #thanks for the request

[rachelvhs]

not my usual stuff but i started a bloodborne playthrough for the first time since elden ring came out and decided to do little doodles of my character's adventures in Yharnam as i went along :)

So to start i did a waste of skin character and named them Duck just because i thought it was fitting

when they arrive in Yharnam they dont really have much of an idea whats happening and know that they need to find some sort of pale blood and answers as to what is going on with this place and themself..

for a while theyd stick to side alleys and stay in the shadows being weary of all the people who have seemingly gone mad.

eventually finding some solace in Gilbert, a fellow outsider - side note I love Gilbert sm he is def one of my fav npcs in the game i love his story - who at least tries to be a little helpful in Duck's quest for answers.

soon enough Duck is cornered, trapped with no way out but to fight, and out of fear they take the life of their assailant and keep moving forward..

they find some clothes belonging to one of the hunters they keep getting mistaken for, realizing that they dont have many options they take up the mantle, and cloak, of a hunter at minimum its darker clothes than the bright red shirt she was wearing before..

meeting Eileen is nice, but not too helpful once again, Duck is left perplexed and angry at the old hoonter and takes their leave.

They look down below the city, spying a ladder leading into the sewers, assuming and hoping that maybe itll be safer down there than risking another attack from the mad Yharnamites.. too bad its just as bad down there as it is in the rest of the city.

-

So yeah! theres some quick doodles from my time plaything this morning, doing this was a nice way to start my day / do a little warm-up with less stress about coming up with a new idea or anything so maybe ill do more of these later / tomorrow morning too!

#art #drawing #doodle #bloodborne #bloodborne art #bloodborne fanart #soulsborne #hoonter #eileen the crow #yharnam #sketches #my art

[handeaux]

Overwhelmed By Advertising? The Battle For Cincinnati Consumers Has Raged For More Than A Century

Depending on the source, it is estimated that each American is confronted by 6,000 to 10,000 advertising messages every single day. That immersive media onslaught swelled as we started carrying little video screens around wherever we go, but invasive and obnoxious marketing has bothered Cincinnatians for much more than a century.

For example, on 20 July 1871, a correspondent for the Cincinnati Times related an enjoyable voyage he had undertaken down the Ohio River. After praising the service of his riverboat’s staff, the remarkable scenery along the river, the picturesque little town he floated by, the writer registered one complaint, about a cliff near the town of Hanging Rock:

“High up on the face of this wall of white sandstone, hundreds of feet beyond the reach of a scaling ladder, I noticed a patent medicine advertisement. It was penciled there by a man let down with ropes from above, and the letters are large enough to be read from the deck of a steamer two miles distant. I was sorry to see this defacement. It is bad enough that all the fences throughout the land should be made to lie for patent medicines without debasing the hill-sides with such marking. I suppose that when the ‘chemical affinity necessary to be the motor of some immense flying machine’ shall be discovered, some enterprising patent medicine man will be plastering the face of the moon with some of his ‘wonderful remedies.’”

If only the poor man knew what lay ahead! Even in the 1870s, almost every vertical surface in Cincinnati was slathered with posters, placards and bills advertising shows at the local theaters, patent medicines and political candidates. Cincinnati was the center of the bill-posting world. For one thing, Cincinnati was among the top printing cities of the United States, with the mighty Strobridge Lithographing Company dominating the poster industry.

Also, Billboard magazine was headquartered here in Cincinnati. What we now think of as a music magazine, Billboard was founded in Cincinnati as a trade publication for men who posted “bills” on walls. From its first issue in 1894, Billboard covered the entertainment industry, such as circuses, fairs and burlesque shows, and also created a mail service for travelling entertainers. Initially it covered the advertising and bill-posting trade and was known as Billboard Advertising.

Far from inspiring civic pride, advertising rankled Cincinnati residents as they witnessed visual pollution encrusting the region’s hillsides. Leading the opposition was the Municipal Art Society – a sort of ad-hoc predecessor to today’s Urban Design Review Board. The opening shot was fired 24 August 1896 when the Enquirer reported:

“A matter that will undoubtedly be of interest to the business men is the fact that war has been declared by the Cincinnati Municipal Art Society against advertising signs on fences along the car routes and drives of the city. The art society maintains that these signs mar the beauty of the city, especially in the case of landscape scenes on the hills and in the suburbs, and that they are offensive to the public taste.”

The Society was persistent. It took five years but the Cincinnati Post reported [24 November 1901] that the Baldwin Piano Company had demolished 200 feet of billboards erected on company property along Gilbert Avenue. The Post described this as the “first result” of the Society’s campaign.

The Municipal Art Society was soon joined by some strange bedfellows. The Cincinnati Business Men’s Club, among whose members were certainly a number of advertisers who employed billboards to disseminate their messages, created its own Municipal Art Committee to lobby for restrictions on outdoor advertising. On 1 June 1907, the committee circulated a postcard illustrated with a photo of signage clogging the view from the Grand Central Depot, with the sarcastic caption, “A Nice Welcome To Cincinnati.”

As early as 1895, the city chased the Fountain saloon’s advertising off Fountain Square, but appears not to have drafted a comprehensive law about outdoor advertising until 1909 when, as part of a broader safety ordinance, the city adopted limitations on the size of billboards, their placement near thoroughfares and the materials to be used in their construction.

While the city pondered how to encourage commerce while maintaining attractive views, the entire billboard industry was gaining momentum through a Cincinnati entrepreneur named Philip Morton. Before Morton, “bill boards” were basically fences on which bill posters slapped printed advertisements glued up with a flour-water paste. Morton took outdoor advertising to a new level, according to Jay Gilbert, who has researched his influence on marketing [Cincinnati Magazine September 2016]:

“By 1898 he’d become the Steve Jobs of roadside blight. Doing business as Ph. Morton, Phil was an early pioneer of putting ads into free-standing frames called ‘bill-boards’ and plunking them down everywhere. Eventually every railroad route and motorway in America had its view ruined by a Ph. Morton billboard.”

Even the powerhouse Morton found himself in the city’s crosshairs. Parks Superintendent John W. Rodgers, according to the Enquirer [20 September 1907], exasperated by Morton’s billboards blocking the view of Inwood Park, erupted.

“Park Superintendent Rodgers yesterday tore down over 12,000 feet of big billboards that stretched along for a distance south of Hollister street, facing Vine street, in front of Inwood Park. The billboards were 12 feet high, about 1,000 feet long and contained the advertisements of leading firms of the city, and were illuminated at night with electric lights. They had been at that place for years.”

All of those billboards were leased by Philip Morton who, as coincidence would have it, dropped off a check to pay the lease while workmen were busily engaged demolishing his thousand feet of signage. This was the Boss Cox era in Cincinnati where the right hand was very often ignorant of the left hand’s activity. And so it was, while the Park Superintendent was demolishing billboards on Vine Street, the Board of Public Service pondered a lease for billboards along Gilbert Avenue. That’s right – the same Gilbert Avenue divested of billboards just six years earlier.

A common theme of cartoon artists at that time was the eventual coverage of all available exterior surfaces with advertising signs and slogans. In response, Cincinnati Post cartoonist Elmer Andrews Bushnell sketched City Hall wrapped from sidewalk to parapet in advertising while George Barnsdale Cox and his minion, August “Garry” Herrmann, happily apply more posters and Mayor Julius Fleischmann hides behind a billboard.

The battle raged for decades. Photographs from 1927 show dozens of billboards crowding the hillside over the Brighton overpass to Central Parkway and the Enquirer [24 March 1929] begged for relief because billboards and other unsightly structures had a negative effect on property values:

“What of the gaudy billboard that intrudes itself into a residential district, the sign which girds the tree or telephone pole, the roadside ‘shack’ which is made more ugly with bizarre advertisements? Do they affect values?”

A century later, we hardly notice billboards anymore. We’re too busy texting while we drive.

#cincinnati advertising #cincinnati billboards #billboard magazine #philip morton #boss cox

[donttouchmeillkillyou]

Introduction (finally)

"Hi there! You seem like a little lost! Perhaps, I could help..!"

Hi, welcome to this Dhmis blog that I call DTIKY (I've been calling it like that for a long time, we don't talk about the "Me"). My name is Red Mod/Cat, I don't use any pronoun (just he/him if it's necessary), I speak Spanish and I'm the creator of Don't Touch Me, I'll Kill You. Recently, I've been receiving asks from people who are really confused and lost track of what is happening here, so I finally decided to put a proper introduction so new and old followers can understand this mess of a story.

Ok, this is an au created in 2020, and (to let you know) I've been changing things in the script with the asks I had received or when I got inspiration to improve it. This also means it is more connected to the Web Series than the TV series, but it doesn't mean it isn't, yet. I promise I am working on it.

Now, let's talk about what this blog is about. Well, this is an alternative universe where things make sense if you think about it, a little: Manny (the Yellow Guy, maybe) has schizophrenia and problems with controlling his attitude; Roy has hair (lol) and isn't the one we know from the Series; every object has a human form; Clayhill exists and also Mean Steve or the objects from the Pilot; there are some OCs from Adventures in Lurning (blog that I love with my entire life. I asked the mod before I created this, dw); there are love, family and friendship problems; and, there are original ocs (Ross, Richard, most of the people that the Roy from here knows).

If you want a recap, you can ask anyone and they'll tell you their pov of that situation. Actually, Ben and I tried our best to explain but Idk if you understand (Mine, mine and Ben). I made 2 posts making explanations of what is happening. And remember that the only one who knows what is actually happening in a omnipresent view is me, Hugo and Lesley (lol you'll understand soon).

Also! The talking objects have "normal" names and they are all minors. So, p3d0s, Pr0shitters and comshippers DNI.

Here is the list of everyone's pronouns and roles. Some of them will have their name changed in the future or rn I don't have names for them yet, sorry:

Roy Gribbleston (Roy/?????? ???): He/him (sometimes she/her)

Harry Pelling (Red Guy): They/them, He/him

Baker Robin (Duck Guy): he/him

Manny Gribbleston (Yellow Guy): He/him, they/them

Ben Sloan (Bread Boy): he/him

Spinach Can/Vecky Sloan(Can): she/her

Gilbert (Globe): He/him, they/them

Lace (Laptop): She/her, he/him

Hugo (Solar System): any pronouns

Sophie (Special One): she/her

Franny (Flower): she/her

Warren (the eagle): he/him

Shrignold (Butterfly): he/him

Larry (Lamp): they/them

Fred Sloan (Fridge): he/him

David Sloan (Meat Guy): he/him

Tony (clock): he/him

Colin (computer): he/him

Ross Rosenberg (OC/Manny's dad): he/him, they/them

Richard (OC/Roy's best friend, or smth more): he/him

Electracey: they/them, she/her

Clayton (Mr. Choo Choo): he/him, old

Lilly: she/her, he/him

Todney: he/him, she/her

Brenton (briefcase): he/him

Brendon (Unemployed Brendon): he/him, they/them

Paula (the post box): any pronouns

Laura (Ladder): she/her, they/them, xe/xem, nya/nyan

Mean Steve (Key): he/him

Tarah (True Key): any pronouns

Lesley: she/her, they/them

This blog is currently making a collaboration with ask-manny-and-doi!(Finished) If you want to do a Collaboration, you can ask me :D

My other blogs where you can ask anything are:

@redmodc (the account that will appear if I like your post lol)

@dont-touch-me-i-am-crying (art reblogs, talking about AiL)

@miss-minutes-blog (ask blog of Miss Minutes from Loki)

That's all for now? If I missed something or you are still confused, send me a question in those blogs! Have a good day and I hope this clears some questions and that you can enjoy this blog I've been working on!!!

#dhmis #dtiky #dont touch me i'll kill you #don't hug me i am scared #dhmis au

[twistedtummies2]

Fifteen Days of Disney Magic - Number 9

Welcome to Fifteen Days of Disney Magic! In honor of the company’s 100th Anniversary, I am counting down my Top 15 Favorite Movies from Walt Disney Animation Studios! If you hoped today’s entry would make the cut on my list, then wish granted! Number 9 is…Aladdin.

“Aladdin” has become a slightly controversial film in recent years, for reasons I won’t go into. However, for most people, I think it’s fair to say it’s one of Disney’s most popular and well-respected franchises, and it’s definitely one of the most wild. The film takes a deliberately more comedic, free-spirited kind of look at its source material; from Robin Williams as the pop-culture-reference-spouting Genie, to Gilbert Gottfried as the loudmouth Iago, to various visual and musical elements that feel more like a cross between Las Vegas and stereotypical Bollywood than any sort of authentic interpretation of Arabian culture. It’s a very modern and comical sort of feature, when compared to the more timeless take on things with “Beauty and the Beast.” This film is essentially the precursor to movies like “Hercules” and “The Emperor’s New Groove,” which also take on a more humorous, almost satirical sort of tone with their stories and aesthetic elements. What I think sets Aladdin apart from those two films, however, and what makes it better than so many later movies that would take inspiration from it, is its heart. Which isn't to say those later films DIDN'T have heart, but I think Aladdin's soft center is much more pronounced, so to speak. The lessons it teaches are simple ones, but handled very interestingly. It’s a story about honesty, destiny, acceptance, and a willingness to change things for the betterment of the world around you. Aladdin, himself, is quite possibly one of my favorite Disney protagonists: he’s a very human character, as from start to finish we sympathize with him. Even when he makes choices we don’t agree with, we understand why he’s making them and we hope he’ll figure out a way to manage things. He’s also a classic underdog character, as he starts off as someone at the bottom of the ladder and has to find ways to reach the top. Once he falls off again, however, he’s quick to use his wits, courage, and personal skills to make sure things are fixed. The other characters are very memorable, too: Jafar is one of Disney’s most popular villains, and one of my Top 10 favorites, for good reason. Jasmine is a strong female presence in the story, the Sultan is loveably redonculous, Iago is fun, Abu is cute…and do I even need to say that the Genie is probably Robin Williams’ single greatest movie performance of all time? (Well…aside from maybe Mrs. Doubtfire.) Just like the movie, the character was influential on a lot of later films, both by Disney and even by other rival companies. Off topic from the characters, the visual style – while obviously exaggerative – is honestly one of my favorite parts of the film. The use of shapes and colors really gives this a uniquely dense, rich sense of aesthetics.

Honestly, I think this is also one of those films I love not only for its own sake, but also for its multitude of spin-offs: as a kid, I watched the Aladdin TV series, and the two direct-to-video sequels to this movie set in that universe, about a bajillion times. As an adult I see the flaws in all of them, but they are still fun and adventurous pieces of work that, in my opinion, do credit to the original. And the original, to this day, is still a Disney film I hold a special place for in my heart. As I said in an earlier entry, choosing between this, “Beauty and the Beast,” "Peter Pan," and one other film was quite tricky. I had to go through a list of criteria to ultimately decide which was really my favorite. “Aladdin” is a movie I refer to a lot in my day-to-day life, and of all the Disney movies out there…honestly, when it comes to the stage versions, there isn’t a single Disney play I think I would want to do more than Aladdin, simply because there are no less than four characters whom I would love to portray and would feel perfectly joyful playing. That’s more than any other stage-from-film version you can find, I think, at least in current existence! And as I said, my general nostalgia for not only this movie, but also its franchise as a whole, is quite pronounced. HOWEVER, Aladdin takes a backseat from the one movie above it because it does falter in one attribute: my writing. I’m not really in a hurry to write anything set in or based on this world, in any way – whether it be my own original work inspired by it, or fanfics I’m commissioned to create – so it loses out for that reason and that reason only. This is, of course, discounting Jamil & Kalim from Twisted Wonderland. I’ll happily write for them any day of the week. ;) Tomorrow, we reach the halfway point of the countdown, with my 8th Favorite Disney Movie! HINT: It Proves the Quote, “The Past Is Never Dead. It Isn’t Even Past.”

#disney #disney 100 #disney 100 special #list #countdown #top 15 disney animated movies #fifteen days of disney magic #number 10 #aladdin #aladdin 1992

[snowmuttgetsweird]

Return to Yharnam!!

It's Bloodborne Season, baby!

Here's my day one progress- didn't play long, only a couple hours.

Named my character SnowMutt, decided to go for an Arcane build! Started with Noble Scion for the Arcane.

Arcane builds are most rewarding on a fresh file because bosses still have weaknesses- type advantages become less effective in NG+. Unfortunately the game doesn't really cater to a dedicated Arcane build early-game.

I won't get my first "spell" until the Abandoned Workshop, I won't get my second "spell" until the Forbidden Woods, I won't get my first DAMAGING "spell" until the Lecture Building, and I won't get my first GOOD damaging "spell" until Castle Cainhurst. Eesh.

A lot of the early-game is going to rely on Molotovs for damage, which DO scale with your Arcane. Thankfully, I know where all the good shit is, so I can also pick up an early Flamesprayer (plus Bone Marrow Ash to make it insane), grab a Fire gem that will allow one of my weapons to scale with Arcane, and I can get bagged and taken to the Unseen Village to grab a Tonitrus- all before even getting to the Abandoned Workshop! These will all carry me quite a bit through a lot of the game.

Let's go to Yharnam!

Died to the clinic Scourgebeast! Been too long I guess, lol. Picked up Threaded Cane and Pistol. Back to the clinic for round two! EZ win with a weapon, lol.

Speedran my ass to Cleric Beast to grab the Insight so I could start leveling, opening shortcuts and collecting useful stuff like Molotovs and Blood Stone Shards along the way, basically ignored everything else. Died a couple times as I started getting used to dodging again, took 'em down on the third try!

Bought some Molotovs, leveled up strength to 12 so I can equip Tonitrus later.

Went through the sewers after, picked up everything, met with Eileen- decided to replace Threaded Cane with Saw Spear, which has a much more reliable transform attack combo, meaning it does a LOT of damage, and builds a lot of Beasthood fast.

CRUSHED Gascoigne first try, gg ez. He was useful for relearning parry timing- also he TF'd late and died to a couple of my Arcane-boosted Molotovs before he could really do anything.

Cathedral Ward unlock! I always go down the side path first to grab those extra Bloodstone Shards and the Monocular, then made my way down to Old Yharnam- but not before picking up some Fire Paper from Alfred! Speedran to Djura, popped him a few times with the pistol to knock him off, exit game, continue, grab the Powderkeg Hunter Badge, you know the drill. Went through the church, hunted everything, opened the shortcut and got the Saw Spear Hunter to fall off the ladder first try. Free Bone Marrow Ash! It was about this point I realized I forgot to grab the Flamesprayer from Gilbert back at the Central Yharnam lamp, so I went back and did that after running down to Blood-Starved and opening up the shortcut. Decided to run back and spend my echoes before trying to tackle it- Blood-Starved is always a bit of a wall for me.

Actual fight went by pretty easily, but only because I cheesed it. Pungent Blood Cocktails in the corner, TF attack spammed it with Saw Spear, Fire Paper, and Beast Blood Pellet. Even with 9 skill, it went down pretty fast.

Went back and grabbed that Flamesprayer, then went and got myself killed by a Kidnapper to access The Unseen Village. Forgot to grab some Church clothes first for Adella, but I'll come back for her later- she's going to the clinic anyway. Pmuch everyone but Arianna and the granny get sent to the clinic so I can farm them for Insight and Numbing Mist. Arianna's gotta stick around for end-game, and granny's gonna gimme a bunch of free Sedatives later!

Cleaned out what's accessible of the Unseen Village- picked up Tonitrus and all the shards and armor and loot. I'll come back for Paarl later.

Aaand that's it for now!

Most of my echoes have been going into building up a stock of Molotovs and leveling. I've got my Str high enough to use Tonitrus, Arcane up to 25, and everything else is untouched for now. Saw Spear, Tonitrus, and Flamesprayer are all at +3!

Tomorrow morning, I'm planning on meeting up with Fake Iosefka, grabbing some Church gear, and collecting Adella and the granny. After that, I'm heading up the Cathedral Ward elevator to grab the Radiant Sword Hunter Badge, working my way through the alley so I can get that Fire blood gem for my Saw Spear which will be my primary PVE weapon for a while since Tonitrus has VERY low durability- at least vs Beasts and boss adds (serrated damage + fire is ideal for Beasts)- and then open up all the gates so I can meet with Eileen outside Cathedral Ward and go rek Henryk with her. Poison Daggers will be doing most of the work tbh. I'll probably try to tackle Hemwick Charnel Lane before Amelia so I can spend a little time farming Bone Marrow Ash, which will be very useful for my Flamesprayer, and should make Paarl a joke.

Basically gonna try to get as many bosses and other side content done as possible before Amelia.

I MIIIIIGHT just use the CUMMMFPK chalice dungeon to farm echoes for items (not leveling) so I can focus on just playing the rest of the game and spend more time doing co-op with other players.

I missed Bloodborne. <3

[shannyh25]

I love how Gilbert walks up to the gate and how he smiles at Anne. I love how excited Anne gets when she hears his voice and she turns around and walks down the ladder to see Gilbert. I love how Gilbert opens the gate and holds open for Anne to walk out. I love how they walk down the lane together and with the geese leading the way. I love this scene so much. 💜💕

Follow me for more inspiration!

#anne of avonlea #follow for updates #follow for follow

[plumbobusuninterruptus]

“Oh god oh god I almost died, what happens when I die? What about the house? Though I guess Gilbert can handle it, he knows more than I do. But the grandkids! Oh my god, and my youngest is still a teen. Spiros!!!! What do I do?”

“Willard, I have literally just met you personally right now, but I know your wife and your son. They’ve tipped me quite a few times and given me a few grand here and there. Just relax. I mean, I’m older than you, and I still vacuum for you and hide dirty dishes in your keepsake box- i mean take the laundry out of the washtub and put it in the hamper- i mean clean your house.”

“Oh, yeah, I see. Wait. I yelled at Mary Louise about putting wet laundry in the hamper. Although, I guess that would imply she’d be picking up laundry. Yeah, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Expanded Storyline” nonsense because why not. Also uh.

Spiros my guy do you really like cleaning that much. You can retire, dude. You clean a house for weird rich people, some of whomst have the neat trait. You are only still employed by them because if the bastardous god who controls them forgets to direct anyone’s attention towards cleaning the attic. You’re also a wonderful money sink for when things seem too OP. You were initially hired to ASSIST because Willard had the Perfectly Pristine Aspiration.

And now, the patriarch of the household is having a freakout to you extremely unprompted, after giving you ten grand. He literally went “Hi, I’m Willard. I heard your name is Spiros? Cool. Here’s ten thousand dollars. I’m old help I’m going to die HELP”. You’re older than he is. You’ll probably die on his lawn or otherwise near it. World’s most dedicated maid.

Then again, most of the time your job is to show up, vacuum the attic bedroom, take out a single bag of trash, and then leave. Sometimes you get paid to show up, wash two dishes, get a bonus of 2 years’ salary, and then leave. I’d say the worst thing would be the concept of having to climb the ladder to the attic with a vacuum cleaner, then go all the way to the basement to flush a toilet, then go back upstairs to take out trash if one was um, very very super elderly.

#i mean. that would be the kind of eccentric rich person i'd clean for. the dad is obsessed with cleaning. #get paid to show up and pick up a dust bunny. then as soon as you're clocked out the dad gives you 10k for telling him to chill

[windowcleaning-22]

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[dark-frosted-heart]

I was wondering, what has been your favourite part of Sariel's route? Like story wise was there a chapter that just stuck with you the most? And why?

Oooh, a tough question xD. I feel like I’m back in a literature class again.

I'd have to say that I really enjoyed watching MC throughout the route. Since Gilbert, Keith, and Silvio are staying in the castle, to hide her identity as Belle but have an excuse for her to be in the castle, MC becomes Sariel's disciple. And I loved how she pretty much turned into a mini Sariel (which freaks the other princes out LOL). I also enjoyed those late night, after hours moments where MC learns about a little fact about Sariel a day. I thought that was very cute.

Now for specific chapters, I suppose I have a few...

Chapter 4 - avatar challenge (I did the normal version) Late at night, Sariel takes MC to the bookstore that she used to work at where there are some new books that she can take a look at, and catches her when she falls from a ladder. I liked Sariel’s message about taking care of your hobbies and what you’re passionate about so that you have a place where you can be yourself. It’s a nice retreat after being in a chaotic environment day to day, a place to take off your mask. Especially for MC who’s job as Belle is only temporary, her love of books and the bookstore she works at can act as an anchor or a home that she can return to once it’s all over.

Chapter 14 Previously, the two were running in the rain after being ambushed in an inn. MC had passed out and Sariel carried her to an abandoned church. When MC wakes up, she discovers that Sariel was injured and so she insists on patching his wound. Removing his shirt, MC sees that his body is covered in scars. While she’s tending to his wound, Sariel notices that Mc’s trembling. He asks if she’s finally scared of him and she admits that she was when he was fighting off the ambushers. However, it’s thanks to him that she’s still alive. And to her, Sariel is still Sariel, not the devil. I like MC’s maturity here and the intimate moment the two share.

Romantic Route Chapter 23 Learning about Sariel’s past! Except I think there are parts I didn’t comprehend properly. He’s an orphan from a distant land far from Rhodolite and to the northwest of Obsidian, a place with a system of slavery. At one point in his childhood, he poisoned himself, but was saved by a priest who brought him to a doctor. Since he was saved, he decided to live just a little longer to find out more about himself. The priest gave him black gloves to hide his tattoo and he started to wear black clothing so that the gloves wouldn’t stand out. Coming to the understanding that information’s all collected by the people govern a country (I’m actually not sure about my understanding of this sentence), he sought to get closer to royalty. By the age of 10, he had become the head of a group of stateless people called “The Rats” (a name given by others) who gathered information from various countries, gaining the attention of other countries as a result. They also did work for exorbitant prices. I think they also stole money and whatnot. Then one day, the came across the king of Rhodolite who was stuck due to bad weather. Sariel offered to guide the king home in exchange for a large amount of money. When Sariel goes by himself to collect payment, the king asks if he’d like to work for him. When asked if it was okay for someone unknown to be by his side, the king replies that he wouldn’t mind being killed by someone like Sariel. There’s more to this chapter afterward but that’s too much writing.

Romantic Epilogue Yves is validly concerned about the relationship between Sariel and MC since MC’s officially officially a bureaucrat and Sariel’s apprentice. But the way Yves brings up his concern to the rest of Leon’s faction makes him sound like a gossiping old lady haha. He tries to grill MC for information about information on Sariel that only she would know which can make MC reveal that she and Sariel are in fact in a relationship, while Licht and Nokto are watching on the sidelines. This whole first half was hilarious but also embarrassing to read.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #sariel noir #ikepri sariel #ikepri ask

[valdotpng]

Ya' know, food for thought: "Well, I don't think I can stand if I wanted to," says Gilbert... With that said, that implies one of two things: 1) he's bedridden, or 2) He's confined to a wheelchair.

With that in mind, if we took the moment to look around his house: One way leads to stairs. The other leads down a slight slope, but EVENTUALLY hits more stairs. And the final way is a ladder.

This poor guy is a handicap in one of the most handicap UNFRIENDLY of places.

oh ive been thinking abt this for 2 years now. i swear that town is like.. actively Hostile to people who have trouble walking, and it sucks ABSOLUTE ass in terms of wheelchair accessibility. all those stairs and ladders...... what a nightmare. poor gilbert :(

#val.txt #as someone w/ chronic pain issues that make it hard to walk sometimes i gotta say. screw that place #can u imagine climbing all of that just to get some groceries? id simply die

[krakenguard]

But picture this: The Hunter was Gilbert’s only form of contact in gods knows how long. And when we first climb up that ladder to Gilbert’s house, and we hear the shriek of the Cleric Beast, you really think the Hunter was the only one that actually heard that?

And, when you look around Gilbert’s house, you suddenly realize that he’s actually situated very close to the Great Bridge leading to Cathedral Ward.

Thing is, while we’re off fighting the Cleric Beast, and it’s letting out it’s shrieks and screams, there’s a strong chance that Gilbert overheard the Ruckus over on the bridge.

This poor guy is probably worried to death that the Hunter is getting torn apart by the Cleric Beast(which I guess we are, depending on how we’re faring in the fight). And what’s more, he had unknowingly sent them to their death.

Luckily the Hunter comes back to that Window in Central Yharnam.

#bloodborne gilbert #gilbert bloodborne #critically ill man gilbert #bloodborne #the hunter #good hunter

[spaceorphan18]

Head Over Feet (2/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other’s orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Since the first chapter seemed to be such a huge hit - I'm dropping this today. This was all originally supposed to be the first chapter anyway! Going forward, I'm going to try to update once a month. Thanks for reading - and I hope you enjoy! :)

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :)

***

Chapter 2: Loser Like Me (Part Two) 

Kurt Hummel loves sex.  He loves the feeling of strong hands holding his body, rough lips against his skin, and a hard cock buried deep within him.  And that morning he had woken up feeling particularly horny.  He isn’t sure what exactly he had been dreaming about but his dick aches to be touched.  And luckily he shares his bed with a very hot guy who doesn’t mind taking care of it for him.  

He and Ian have been together a little over a year now, though this moving in together thing is new and still taking time to get used to.  Sex, however, is not an adjustment they need to make.  Ian doesn’t seem to mind Kurt waking him up with a hand on his cock, desperate to be fucked.  Ian might be a little slow to wake, but not long after they start, Ian’s already pulling Kurt to a quick orgasm; Kurt spilling all over Ian’s fist as Ian pumps his hips into Kurt from behind.  

The thing is, as much as Kurt loves sex, he’s not one to draw it out.  Kurt finds himself holding steady onto the bed frame, staring at the wallpaper, as Ian takes his time fucking him.  And the wallpaper is incredibly ugly.  Seriously.  He knows that Ian isn’t the one to have picked it out, but it’s a striped puke-green, burnt-orange, and tacky-gold, left over, most likely, from a renovation to the old building from the sixties.  It’s a travesty that it’s remained on the wall so long, and if Ian would just fucking come already, he wouldn’t be forced to stare at it for so long.  

Kurt fucks his hips back a little, hoping that Ian will pick up the pace.  He leans back for a kiss (that wallpaper is seared forever in his head, god) and gives out a little moan.  It’s a tiny bit performative, but it seems to do the trick, and Ian’s hips finally begin to snap, pushing him to his own orgasm.  

“Fuck, Kurt, I could wake up this way every day for forever,” Ian says, sucking a kiss to his shoulder.  

The word ‘forever’ echoes in Kurt’s brain uncomfortably.  Kurt turns in Ian’s arms, quieting him with a kiss.  “Happy to oblige.”

Ian goes in to deepen the kiss, but Kurt pulls away.  Now that he’s feeling a bit satisfied, he wants nothing more than to take a shower and get ready for the day.  He’s got about a thousand things to do, and he’s eager to get started.  Ian tries to keep him close -- he’s always wanting to make out after sex -- but Kurt manages to slip out of Ian’s light grasp.  

“Shower time,” Kurt says, wiggling his eyebrows.  

“Mmm, let me join you.”

The thought suddenly makes Kurt twitch but he tries not to show it.  What is wrong with him? His incredibly handsome boyfriend, with his disheveled dark hair and playfully pleading light eyes wants to join him in the shower for a possible part two of morning sexy times.  But having Ian shoved in next to him in their tiny shower stall makes him feel claustrophobic.  

He pushes past his discomfort to allow Ian to join him.  He even gives in to a little light making-out.  But there’s no way sex is happening in that bathroom.  

They do their morning routine together, bumping into each other in the tiny bathroom.  The sink is covered in bottles and sprays, creams and soaps, razors and combs, and they have to reach over each other to grab what they need.  Kurt is normally a very organized person, and when he moved in, he took the time to organize a side for each of them. But since then, Ian’s stuff has slowly migrated over to his side, and Ian’s slowly been using the products on Kurt’s side.  And mostly, he’d be fine with the sharing if things would just keep their place.  However, he doesn’t say anything, enjoying Ian’s good mood.  

Ian suggests breakfast, wanting to go to the little bagel shop a few blocks down.  He asks Kurt to walk with him but, just wanting a few minutes to check his emails alone, he declines.  Ian throws a look of disappointment but heads out, stating he’ll bring Kurt something back.  Kurt tries not to feel guilty about it, and reminds himself that there’s nothing wrong with wanting a few minutes to yourself.  Besides, Ian’s still excited that they’re living together.  He’ll calm down.  Surely.   Right?  

Ian being gone gives Kurt a few minutes to pick up the apartment.  There are clothes discarded in the living room, where they had been left after starting sex on the couch the night before.  There’s an old pizza box sitting on the coffee table, a few mugs with half-drunk tea, and a scattering of papers.  And underneath a pile of Ian’s sheet music is the mail from the previous week, most of which is Kurt’s.  He clenches his jaw as he goes through it, annoyed that he’s just now seeing it.  

There are a couple of old bills in here that need to be paid, as well as a bright red envelope that looks like an invitation sent from McKinley High.  He looks over the invitation with curiosity, though something else quickly catches his eye.  It’s a jewelry catalogue sent to Ian.  Specifically, a men’s jewelry catalogue.  And Ian doesn’t wear jewelry.  Highly suspect of it, he looks it over, and a growing anxiety starts to spread.  This could not possibly mean…

The door slams shut and Kurt jumps from his spot on the couch.  It’s just Ian home from the bagel shop.  

“I got your favorite, multigrain with that fancy whipped cream cheese that you like,” Ian says.  He hands him the bag and gives him a kiss on the cheek before sitting down next to him.  

“You didn’t give me my mail,” Kurt grumbles, taking the bag.  Then adds a quiet, “thank you.”  

Ian shrugs it off.  “I figured you’d see it eventually.  I’ve been wondering when you’d open that red envelope.  I wanna know what it is.”

“Oh,” Kurt places the bag with his breakfast on the coffee table and picks up the envelope from his lap, opening it.  He gives it a fond smile.  “I guess my old choir director is retiring.  There’s a party for him back in Lima.”  

“Well, that’s cool,” Ian says, grabbing the invitation out of his hand.  “Quaint.  I’m guessing you aren’t going?  I mean, other than mentioning your dad, I’ve never heard you talk about your time in Ohio.  Hell, I’ve never even heard early New York stories.  All I know is one day you walked into my piano bar, a full grown man, mysterious and sexy.”  Ian wiggles his eyebrows.  “Hard to imagine you in high school.”  

“Well, I can assure you I was anything but sexy,” Kurt says.  A flash of a memory crosses his brain - one of a performance in a warehouse, lots of boys in blazers, and a really uncomfortable situation for young Kurt.  He shakes his head, ridding his mind of it.  

“So, are you going to go?” Ian asks, far more interested in the idea than Kurt is.  

Kurt scrunches his nose at the thought.  He hasn’t stepped foot in Ohio for a better part of a decade.  There aren’t even people from high school he still talks to, not on a regular basis anyway.  It’s sweet of Will Schuester’s family to think of him, but maybe he’s better off sending a card or something.  

“I don’t know,” Kurt says, he stares at the invitation, unsure of how he feels about it.  “I don’t know.”

***

Wednesdays mean that Ian is home all day.  He is a classical pianist by trade and his day job is playing with one of New York’s symphony orchestras.  In the evenings, he usually plays gigs at local bars.  But on Wednesday, he has time off from both jobs to be home all day.  Wednesday used to be the day where Kurt spent all his time with Ian.  Now that they live together, Kurt usually spends his Wednesday anywhere but home.  

It usually lands him at his own job, running a small theater that he co-owns with his old friend, Elliott Gilbert.  Technically, Elliott’s rich grandmother’s money bought the theater, and Kurt had been brought on to manage the projects and productions that happened there.  It’s still quite a work in progress, as the building had been nearly condemned when they originally bought it a few years earlier.  But with all their hard work, they’re beginning to draw in better productions, and this might be the first year they actually draw a profit.  

When he gets in that afternoon, he finds Elliott up in the rafters, working on some of the lights.  Kurt watches for a moment as Elliott finishes whatever he’s working on.  It’s hard to say, but he has the toolbox with him, so Kurt can only guess it has to do with the lights nearly coming down the other night.  They really need to get an electrician in, but Elliott’s pretty handy about these things, and will at least try to do what he can before they have to ask for help.  

Kurt watches a good few minutes as Elliott finishes up and comes down the ladder.  

“You’re being quiet,” Elliott says, carefully bringing down the toolbox as he reaches the bottom of the ladder.  Kurt, hands in pockets, just gives a gentle shrug.  “You’re not usually quiet, which means it can only be one of a few things.  Something’s up with your dad.  You want a favor.  Or it’s boyfriend problems.”

“Well, my dad is fine, and I don’t need anything,” Kurt says.  “So….”

Elliott lets out a heavy sigh, and places the toolbox on the ground.  “It wouldn’t kill you to go to therapy, you know.”

“You’re not my therapist?”

“Alright, so this session is going to cost you three-hundred dollars,” Elliott looks at his watch.  “You have twenty minutes.  Go.”

Kurt lets out a laugh as he follows Elliott to the edge of the stage.  Elliott jumps off but Kurt lowers himself to sit on the edge, his legs hanging off.  Elliott makes a shrug for Kurt to get on with it.  

“So, I was going through some mail, and I found this jewelry catalogue.  It had a lot of men’s engagement rings,” Kurt says.  Elliott makes a face as if to say ‘and…?’  Kurt purses his lips.  “I think Ian might ask me to marry him.”  

“Have you guys even talked about marriage?”

“Definitely not.”  

Elliott doesn’t seem at all convinced.  “Maybe it was just an ad then.  I get shit like that all the time.  I somehow managed to be subscribed to a women’s lingerie catalogue for years.”  

Kurt still can’t rid himself of the low-level anxiety he’s been feeling about it all day.  “Even so, I just… don’t like the idea.”  

“I thought you and Ian were doing great?”

“We are, we are,” Kurt says.  Elliott, again, doesn’t seem convinced.  “Ian’s in the honeymoon stage of wanting to do everything together, and I don’t know.  We’ve been together for a year.  We know how we are.  Do we really need to do everything together now that we live together?”  

Elliott folds his arms across his chest.  “Kurt, if this is becoming an issue, why did you agree to move in with him in the first place?”

Kurt stares up at the ceilings.  The old, red curtains have a few fringes and tears, and Kurt wonders vaguely, if they should get new ones or if anyone would really notice.  He kicks the stage lightly as he avoids Elliott’s question.  “I mean, my apartment lease was up, and they were going to double my rent.”  

“Oh, god,” Elliott chokes out.  “Please tell me that wasn’t the only reason.”  

“It’s not,” his voice squeaks a little too much on the words.  “I also, you know, love him.”  

Elliott shakes his head.  Kurt knows judgment when he sees it.  “This is just classic Kurt,” he says.  

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with having an adjustment period with having to live with someone after I’ve had my own place for so long,” Kurt says, defending himself.  

“Uh-huh.”

“I just like my independence.”

Elliott’s eyebrow is arched high.  “Or you like sabotaging your relationships.”

Kurt scoffs, looking off to the side of the stage.  They’re going to need to scrub this whole place down before allowing anyone to do a production here again.  Elliott, however, is not letting him off the hook, and eyes him hard.  “I do not do that.”

“Then why have I seen you more in the past couple of weeks than you’ve probably seen him?”

It’s a fair question, Kurt admits to himself.  “Well, I do find you tolerable.”  

“Kurt, you don’t find any of your boyfriends tolerable,” Elliott says.  He almost sounds annoyed, but he knows Elliott’s limits and he knows he hasn’t reached them.  But truth be told, he’s as sick of himself as Elliott probably is.  “Who was that guy before Ian? That Matt guy? Why did you break up with him?”

He picked the scab, of course Elliott is going to rip open the old wounds.  “Because he wanted me to be ‘a part of the family’,” Kurt replies, using air quotes to highlight his point.  Matt had been a sweet guy, but his family had been his life.  He hadn’t been ready to be a part of any family, let alone one that had been as close as Matt’s had been.  He felt as if he had been suffocating every time they went to visit.  “His family was crazy.  I didn’t need to be a part of that.”  

Elliott nods, continuing on.  “Okay, and Joey was the one before that.  I remember him because he helped clean up this place when we bought it.”  

Kurt bites his lip.  He did feel bad about that.  Joey had been so quick to offer his time.  But Joey also had been there.  All the time.  It had been too much.  “He was super clingy,” Kurt says quietly, though he hates that he’s seeing the trend.

“Sure he was,” Elliott says.  A grin slips onto his lips.  “And then there was Steven.”  

“He wanted to marry me six months into the relationship,” Kurt says.  He snaps a little too loud, his voice echoing in the empty theater.  Elliott remains amused, even if Kurt is not.  “Who knows they want to get married six months into a relationship?  Why are you getting on my case about this?  It’s not like you don’t go through, like, three guys a week.”  

Elliott throws his head back in a laugh.  “Well, I am at peace with my slutty ways.  Look, Kurt, it’s not about the number of guys you go through.   It’s just that, well, honestly, I’ve known you forever.  And I know you’re this old school romantic and the slutty ways will never be satisfying for you.  Did it ever occur to you that the reason it doesn’t work out with these guys is not because you’re this progressive independent, but because deep down you want to be an old school married, and haven’t found the right person to be with yet?”

The gnawing pit in his stomach starts to fade as he thinks about the old fantasy -- the one he had as a kid, where you met your prince, and you lived happily ever after.  Only, real life doesn’t happen like that.  Most guys are not princes, and the ones who are don’t always lead to happily ever after.  He knows better than to be unrealistic, but maybe he’s pushing people too far away.  

“Do you think I’ve made a mistake?” Kurt asks, he begins bouncing his foot against the stage again.  

Elliott goes soft in deposition.  “You know I can’t answer that for you.”

“You’re probably right,” Kurt says.  He thinks of Ian - of his kind smile and good heart.   He shouldn’t be running, even if every ounce of him feels like it’s too much.  “Ian is a good guy, and I’ve been…”

“Difficult?”

“I was going to say myself, but thank you.”

“I do my best.” Elliott playfully taps his knee.  “If you want, though, you can crash at my place for a few days.  I’m gonna be out of town.  Some third cousin is getting married, and Mom insists that everyone be there.”

“No, I’m good,” Kurt insists.  And then an idea hits him.  “You know, I got an invitation to go back to Lima.  Old high school choir thing.  Maybe I’ll take a long vacation and do that.  It could give me some time to clear my head -- reflect on my questionable life choices.”  

Elliott gives a hearty laugh.  “You haven’t talked about Lima in years.  Besides, going back to Lima might force you to dig into your past, and we all know how much you enjoy doing that.”

Kurt swats at Elliott.  “It’ll be fine.  What’s the worst that can happen?”

***

After work, Kurt doesn’t go home right away.  Instead, he opts to walk around the city for a while.  There’s a slight chill, causing him to bundle his jacket a little tighter, and the sky is overcast, threatening a storm rolling in.  He won’t be out too late, but he knows Ian is back home waiting for him and he’s just not ready for it yet.  

His conversation with Elliott plays over in his head.  He does like his independence.  He always has.  Even when he had been a little boy, his parents had let him play on his own.  And after years of rejection from kids his own age, he learned that sometimes being on your own is your best bet.  It’s not that he doesn’t like the company his boyfriends have brought him over the years.  He just likes his space. And his peace and quiet. And his room to move about as he pleases.  And sometimes boyfriends make him feel too tied down.  

But he can’t help but think about what Elliott had said.  The thing that seems to stick in his brain, wiggling to the forefront of his thoughts.  Maybe he wants to be an old married? Maybe he does want that connection, that one person who seems to know him, who understands him enough that there will be days when they’re inseparable, and days when they’re apart.  He likes the idea of coming home to the same face every day to see someone who can read him like a book, who will enjoy the same things as him, who will love him for the insufferable human being he always seems to be.  

But are there really people out there like that?  

Maybe he’s not giving Ian enough credit.  When they had decided to move in together, Kurt thought it had been the most optimal choice.  Living costs would come down.  He’d have a partner to spend his time with.  And the sex.  God, Ian knows how to have sex.  

But permanently?  The buzz of anxiety begins to grow at the thought.  There are too many little things about Ian, too many things about himself that just don’t feel right.  It’s not perfect.  Well -- it’s never going to be perfect, he argues with himself.  But still…  

The storm breaks sooner than Kurt expects, a sudden heavy rain coming down.  Kurt stands on the street corner, looking up at the sky as he gets drenched.  Maybe the universe is trying to tell him something, and he can’t help but laugh as the rain splashes his face.  

Just as he’s about to head home, however, he catches a sign on the corner of a building.  A sign advertising an open leasing on a loft, with a number attached.  For a moment, he’s transferred back in time to all those years ago, when he lived in a loft in Bushwick with four other people all of whom had been trying to make it in the city.  He hasn’t thought about that loft in ages.  Hasn’t thought about those people in ages.  God, what even happened to…  

He tries hard not to think of the name that first pops in his head.  But he can’t help but see the face.  He shakes his head, as if attempting to get rid of the image.  

Nostalgia hits him just then.  

Nostalgia for a place he left long ago, for people whom he never thought he’d miss.  He is going to take that trip to Lima.  He does need a break from Ian.  He does need to get his life sorted out.  But mostly, he feels a soft ache for returning home -- even if he’s not sure where that is anymore.  

***

A week later, Kurt finds himself rolling up to one of Lima’s three motels in a car he rented at the airport.  It’s strange coming back to the city he grew up in and, yet, not returning back to his childhood home.  He had thought about driving past, but he hadn’t necessarily wanted to see through the window to see whatever happy suburban family had bought the place.  Instead, he had driven straight to the motel that he had booked himself the moment he knew he would be coming back.  

There is something surreal about returning to the place you grew up after so much time has passed.  It’s like time has frozen, remaining exactly the same as the moment you left, even if there are new storefronts in the old buildings, expansions where wooded areas used to be, and a real attempt, it seems, to clean the place up.  It feels unchanged, and Kurt can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.  It’s just a thing.  

It’s evening by the time he gets in.  The motel room is bland and tiny, and the four channels on the TV don’t offer much entertainment.  He lays down on the bed to stare at the ceiling, thinking if there’s anything he could do.  Most places in Lima shut down before eight, even on a Friday night.  And it’s not like he has anyone to call. He had been texting Mercedes Jones earlier in the week, shocked that her number had still been the same, but she had explained that she wouldn’t be getting in until very late and implied that whatever plans she had wouldn’t be with him.  He had understood, and it’s not like he won’t be seeing her the next day anyway.  Scrolling through his phone, he finds that he doesn’t have a single other contact from high school he could call.  

Maybe he should just text Ian -- but as his thumb hovers over his boyfriend’s name, he remembers that Ian is probably playing a concert that weekend. And even if he waits until later when Ian’s home, he just doesn’t want to ruin Ian’s good time by explaining that he can’t quite quash the crushing sense of loneliness that seems to be his homecoming.  

Why did he think this would be a good idea?

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a neon flashing light, and through the window he sees a building that he hasn’t thought about in years.  Thinking anywhere is better than being stuck in that sad motel room for the next twelve hours, Kurt heads out into the night.  

***

Scandals is, if nothing else, exactly how he remembers it.  Not that his memories are anything more than fuzzy blips of moments from long ago.  He remembers the same posters being on the wall, in the same tattered state.  He remembers the huge, neon signs lining the walls.  And god, the music even feels strikingly similar.  There aren’t, he thinks with a laugh, any drag queens though.  

The atmosphere is quiet for a Friday night.  There are a few guys out on the dance floor, enjoying each other’s company, but most of the people in the bar are huddled in the darkened corners.  No one looks up from their conversations to notice him come in.  The bouncer is too busy flirting with a denim dressed, bearded guy leaning against the wall to notice him slip by.  

He’s not a few steps in when he realizes coming out to a bar seems like a silly thing to do, but makes a deal with himself to have one drink before he heads back to the motel and to do the sensible thing in calling Ian.  

But as he heads to the bar, he sees something that makes him freeze in his tracks.  

Is that…?

It can’t possibly be…?

Blaine Anderson is sitting at the bar, casually chatting with the bartender as he sips a beer.  Kurt is stunned to see him, his mind reeling at how this is even possible.  There is only one gay bar in Lima.  And he’s probably here for the reunion.  

But still… Blaine Anderson, of all people.  

There’s a tiny part of him that wants to run.  Turn on his heel and walk right back out of that bar and not even worry about the formal meeting they’ll inevitably have tomorrow at the reunion.  He doesn’t though.  

He watches Blaine for a moment, in his element, throwing his head back to laugh at something the bartender said.  It’s astounding to Kurt at how much and how little Blaine has changed.  Age, it seems, has done him well.  There’s less gel in his hair, allowing the natural curls to reveal themselves.  His face is harder, jawbone more defined. He’s wearing a dark sweater vest, but no bowtie, and the shirt underneath is unbutton, revealing a wisp of hair on his chest.  Blaine is no longer that young boy he once knew.  Sitting at the bar is a man.  

And yet… his movements are exactly the same.  The way he crinkles his eyes when he laughs, the way he lightly touches the bartender’s arm while expressing his point, the way casually plays with the napkin on the counter.  That’s still the Blaine he used to know.  

Kurt takes a deep breath, releasing the tension running through him.  He could leave… but he doesn’t really want to.  It’s been a decade since they’ve seen each other.  That’s enough time to let old wounds heal, right?

Kurt takes the plunge.

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you.  Mind if I buy you a drink?”

Blaine turns around, utterly shocked to see him there.  Kurt’s confidence slips as the silence lingers.  Maybe this had been a bad idea.  But then, Blaine breaks out into a grin.  

“Kurt?” He says his name slowly, as if it’s unfamiliar in a way, but easily slides off his stool, going in for a hug.  It’s awkward -- where do you put your hands and arms? How close do you stand? How do you properly greet someone you once agreed to share your life with?  Someone who is a relative stranger now.  It’s bizarre to him that somehow, Blaine still feels so familiar in his arms. “Please, join me.” Blaine offers the stool next to him as they slip apart.  “I’ll definitely take you up on that drink.”

Kurt sits down, suddenly feeling much more nervous than he had been.  Blaine waives down the bartender -- asking for beer, while Kurt shortly asks for an amaretto sour.  He definitely needs something to calm him down.  How is Blaine being so calm? Is he hiding it better? Or is it that he’s soon to be on his third beer?

“So, what are you doing here?” Blaine asks, placing his head on his hand, now looking amused.  There’s no anger there. No resentment, or negativity.  Blaine genuinely seems to be happy to see him.  Based on how they had left things all that time ago, Blaine could have harbored some ill will towards him.  But they are both adults now.  And it had been a long, long time ago.  

“I’m in town for Mr. Schue’s retirement party,” Kurt says.  He rubs his legs, not sure what to do with his hands.

Blaine nods, finishing off the beer he had been drinking when Kurt had arrived.  “Oh, yeah, I figured that.  I meant, what are you doing here ?” He uses both hands to point down.  

“Oh!” Kurt feels a little silly not understanding.  Thankfully, the bartender brings them their drinks.  Kurt wastes no time gulping half of it down as if it were a shot.  “I saw it from the motel window.  Call me crazy, but I was feeling nostalgic.”

“Huh,” Blaine takes a long sip from his bottle, narrowing his eyes as he thinks it over.  “You’re not staying with Burt?”

“Oh, god, right you wouldn’t know,” Kurt laughs as he stirs his drink.  “Dad retired a few years ago.  He and Carole moved to Arizona to be closer to her sister.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

“I guess I could have stayed with Uncle Andy,” Kurt continues, remaining fixated on his drink as he talks.  “He and his sons took over the tire shop.  But we’re not exactly close.  And he has, like, ten dogs.  I’d rather take my chances with the motel.”

Blaine nods, sympathetically.  

“What about you?” Kurt asks.  “How’s your family?”

“They’re pretty good,” Blaine says, easily.  “Cooper has three little girls.  Here, let me show you.”  Blaine wastes no time fishing out his phone, scrolling through the roll for a picture of three gorgeous young girls who all, clearly, take after Cooper.  Kurt coos accordingly but he can’t help but notice Blaine’s left hand, and the indentation of skin where a ring used to be.  It makes him wonder.

“So, what are you doing now?” Kurt asks, trying to relax on his stool.  He rests his elbow on the wooden bar, and his head on his hand.

“I teach, actually.  New York Institute of Fine Arts,” Blaine says, taking another sip of his beer with a laugh.  “I mean, I still perform every now and then.  But an adjunct professor was needed, and a friend of mine pulled some strings, and I just kind of fell into it.  I love it though.”  There’s no lie in Blaine’s voice.  Blaine had always been a passionate person, but it’s clear by his demeanor that he loves his job.  

Kurt smiles meekly, happy for him.  “A private school, of course.  How very you.  Actually, now that I think of it, that’s not far from my theater.”

“You have a theater?” Blaine’s eyes grow wide with interest.  

“Well, half a theater,” Kurt rocks his head from side to side, as if it’s a silly little thing, and not the pride and joy that he’s sunk most of his adult life into, now.  He plays with the nearby peanut bowl.  “The Gilbert Theater.”

“Oh, I know that place,” Blaine says.  There’s excitement in his voice.  Kurt isn’t sure why this makes him happy.    “I thought it had been condemned.  I mean - I’m sure you’ve fixed it up.”

“Oh we have,” Kurt says, thinking about all the work he’s put into it over the years.  “Elliott and I renovated it.  You wouldn’t even recognize it now.”

Blaine takes another slow slip of his drink.  “Elliott?  Like from college?” Kurt nods slowly. “Ah. So are you guys…”

“Oh, no,” Kurt quickly corrects.   “God, no.  Business partners only.”  It’s such a funny thought to him.  Elliott.  They’re like brothers.  No, he’s definitely not romantically linked with Elliott.  There is someone else… but he quickly pushes Ian out of his brain.  He doesn’t want to think about him. “So this is crazy, right? That we both ended up in the same sleazy place?  Maybe the universe was trying to push us together again.”

Blaine gives an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, there is only one gay bar in Lima, but I suppose…”

An awkward silence grows between them.  Blaine bops his head to the music.  Kurt munches on some peanuts.  They both avoid direct eye contact.  The uneasiness that Kurt had felt when he first walked in begins to return.  Maybe he should go.  

The bartender breaks the silence, asking Blaine if he’d like another drink.  There’s an ease there that Kurt picks up on.  Blaine knows the guy -- like really knows the guy.  Kurt shifts from side to side not sure what to say or do.  He eyes the door, he can still slip out if he needs to.  

“Man, I cannot believe how little this place has changed since I used to come here,” Blaine says, taking a look around.  

“You mean when we were in high school?” Kurt asks.  He’d hardly say coming the three times that they did a lot.  

“No, it was actually after…” he trails off but Kurt picks up on what he’s saying.  After they broke up.  After he broke Blaine’s heart.  Blaine kind of skips past the beat.  Why dredge up all that old stuff.  That’s what the reunion is for, right? Something turns in the pit of Kurt’s stomach.  “When I moved back to Lima, I used to come here a lot.  Thought maybe throwing myself into this place might make me feel better.  Not so alone, you know?”

“Did it help?” Kurt’s voice is small.  

“Maybe,” Blaine says with another laugh.  “I don’t know, it was so long ago.  You know it…” he pauses, thinking it over.  “Alright, if I tell you something - do you promise not to run screaming?”

Kurt’s intrigued.  “Of course.”

Blaine stares intently at his bottle.  “After you and I ended things -- I came back to Lima.  And I sorta, kinda dated Dave Karofsky for a while.”

Of all the things that Blaine could have said -- that is the last thing Kurt expects to hear.  It makes Kurt chuckle into his drink.  He can’t even picture it, it’s such a wild thought.  “Wait, seriously?”

“Shocking, right?”

“A little.  More so that you were into a bear.”

The tension breaks as they let go into easy laughter.  The conversation becomes lighter as they begin to discuss old things.  They talk about Dave Karofsky, and how someone who had once been Kurt’s ghost had turned into a friend whom Kurt sees every few years for lunch.  Blaine mentions he had attended Dave’s wedding.  Kurt mentions he had lunch with Dave and his husband last year.  It’s strange how things can change so much in twenty years.  

They talk about Dalton -- though not about that staircase.  The staircase that will forever be burned in his memory for better or worse.  Instead, they talk about Sebastian Smythe with fondness, though neither could say where he ended up. And about the one time Blaine sang at the Gap to impress a guy whose name neither can remember.  

And for a moment, unprovoked, Blaine mentions his husband.  It’s a startling jolt into reality, but Blaine doesn’t give him any more than a name and a passing story about having to explain to his husband why he refuses to shop at The Gap.  It’s not like Kurt hadn’t heard Blaine had gotten married.  He doesn't remember who had told him or when or even how he had felt about it.  Blaine had wanted to be married.  He got his wish.  And Kurt is happy for him.  He wants to be happy for him.  Still, that missing ring…

As they reminisce, the bartender brings them more drinks.  The room begins to feel warm and familiar.  Kurt isn’t sure if it’s alcohol or Blaine that is making him feel so comfortable so far from home.  They talk about high school and old friends, people whom they’ve lost touch with and people they’re looking forward to seeing tomorrow.  Kurt learns that Blaine developed a surprisingly deep friendship with Santana Lopez.  Blaine learns that Kurt hasn’t talked to Rachel Berry since college.

“I just couldn’t after that show,” Kurt explains.  They’re both giggly from drinking too much - Kurt having to hold his hands up when the bartender offers him a third.  “I mean - not that she even tried to keep in touch with me.  But my god did you watch that thing? It was terrible! She was fine - she was always fine.  But who decided that would be what America wanted to see for a decade?”

Blaine snickers into his drink.  “Well, personally I was offended.  ‘Slaine’,” he uses both hands to make air quotes around the character’s names, “was written out after year two.  I was like ‘fuck that’.  It’s just as well.  Had he stayed on, I might have had to sue their asses for defamation of character.”

“You are not wrong,” Kurt says, unable to stop laughing as he thinks about it.  He puts a hand on Blaine’s shoulder to balance himself so as to not fall off his stool.  

Blaine notices and smirks.  “How drunk are you right now?”

“Less drunk than you are,” Kurt smiles into his glass.  He is buzzed but not at all drunk.  In fact, he feels good and relaxed and happy.  When had he last been this happy?  “Anyway… All I know is that a terrible writer wrote ‘Cert’ as the sassy yet sexless gay best friend.  And he stayed on the show.  The. Entire. Run.  If anyone has the right to sue, it’s going to be me.”  

“Well, for what it’s worth.  I don’t think Cert was anything like you,” Blaine says.  He leans in close.  Kurt can smell the sweet scent of raspberries.   “Personally, I thought you were always sexy.”

Something in the atmosphere shifts.  Suddenly, Blaine is close.  Close enough that he can see the depths of Blaine’s golden eyes.  There’s something there that Kurt hasn’t seen in a long time, and it causes him to break.  

He’s not sure what it is that makes him say it.  He’s not sure if it’s the heaviness of guilt, or the friendliness of Blaine’s demeanor, or the fact that all of this nostalgia is causing him to reflect on his life’s choices - but he can’t help but let the words stumble out.  “Blaine, I’m so sorry.”  

Blaine looks at him, genuinely confused.  “For what?

“For a lot of things, I feel like I owe you an apology for so many things,” Kurt rambles on.  “I was not in a good place and you… I shouldn’t have ended it.  I mean I shouldn’t have ended it the way that I did.  I shouldn’t have hurt you like that.  And I’m sorry that I did.”

Blaine takes a moment to think it over, as if he’s processing everything Kurt’s saying.  “Kurt…” he lets out a sigh. “You weren’t the only one who was a mess back then.  You don’t have anything to be sorry about.  We had a good thing.  We had a great thing, even.  But it’s fine.  It’s all in the past, and I’m fine.”  

Kurt feels a bit of relief wash over him.  Maybe this is why he needed to come back.  Maybe he had just needed to bury his demons.  He feels lighter than he has in, well, a while.  He reaches out for Blaine’s hand and squeezes it.  It feels comforting in his own.  

“Look at us now, all grown up,” Kurt says, a smile sliding across his face.  “I mean, you’re married and I’m…”

“Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s an open marriage.”

Blaine places his free hand just above Kurt’s knee and squeezes, ever so lightly, he holds it there, stroking his thumb along the side of his thigh.  It’s an invitation.  His cock gets there first, as he watches Blaine’s hand, firm and strong.  His brain becomes fuzzy, but all he can fixate on is the urge to have Blaine’s hand travel up.  This is closure, right?

“Come with me,” Kurt makes the quick decision not to second guess this.  He grabs onto Blaine’s hand with purpose, sliding off the stool and taking Blaine with him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Blaine smirk as he throws out a few bills on the counter to pay for the drinks.  

***

They’re in the bathroom stall, where Kurt vaguely remembers making out once back at the end of his senior year.  They never would have done anything as daring as have sex in a public place, but just kissing, even in a place that accepted it, felt naughty and fun back then.  

Now, he couldn’t care less that there are people who might know what they’re doing.  His desire is too strong, his brain clouded in a haze of need to taste Blaine again; the wonder of if it will feel so good after so long.  The room is broken up into stalls, dimly lit, and smells as if they are the next in a long line of gay men who will use this place to relieve themselves in more ways than one.  Kurt pulls Blaine back to the farthest stall, ignoring that there’s another couple occupying another stall, the panting sounds of their fucking echoing in the room.  It only turns him on more.  

Once the stall door is locked, Blaine looks at Kurt, his large, dark eyes more sure than Kurt is about this.  It almost throws him off kilter but Kurt looks to Blaine’s mouth, and suddenly he remembers all the things that can be done with it.  His resolve broken, Kurt lunges for a kiss.  

Blaine kisses back with force, pushing Kurt back into the wall.  Kurt doesn’t even care that the metal bar for handicap use is pressing against the back of his thighs.  He just wants to feel Blaine.  They kiss deeply, wantonly.  His sense memory returns and suddenly he feels like a teenager again, hungry for Blaine back when he had been first discovering what sex is.  Kurt moans into the kiss that encourages Blaine to slide his tongue against Kurt’s.  

They’re all hands and mouths, wrapping themselves around each other as they make-out.  Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck, combing his fingers through Blaine’s curls as he pulls Blaine closer to him, enough so that their bodies are sliding against each other.  Blaine brings his hands down to Kurt’s ass and squeezes with both hands.  Fuck.  He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gotten so hard so fast.  

They begin to rock against each other as they kiss.  Kurt can feel Blaine’s hard cock pushing up against his own.  If they keep going at this speed, he is not going to last long, and dammit, he refuses to come in his pants.  

Kurt breaks the kiss, only for Blaine to start kissing along his jaw and down his neck, Blaine’s touch is electric, and Kurt can’t help but feel dizzy with pleasure.  He loses himself in Blaine’s embrace, soaking up the feeling as much as he can.  It’s been fifteen years since they’ve fucked - how can this possibly feel so good?  

Blaine works his way back up to Kurt’s mouth, though this time, Kurt is able to slow it down.  Kurt busies his hands with the buttons on Blaine’s pants.  Blaine takes a slight step back, allowing for Kurt to pull him out.  Kurt takes a quick second to look down at Blaine’s cock; his thick and delicious cock.  If only they weren’t in a bathroom stall right now, Kurt would take his time devouring that cock.  Instead, he takes to stroking it, becoming satisfied with the low moans and grunts that are eliciting Blaine’s mouth.  

Blaine steadies himself against the wall, as he begins to pump his hips in time with Kurt’s strokes, fucking himself into Kurt’s hand.  “Let me,” Kurt says, in a low whisper, biting gently at Blaine’s lips before they fall into a sloppy kiss.  Blaine is close - he knows Blaine is close, he can feel it as Blaine arches further into his hand.  Kurt speeds up his hand, deliberate in his strokes.  It’s a little rough, but Blaine becomes more and more undone, uttering little obscenities as he closes eyes and allows himself the pleasure.  Blaine comes, jolting into Kurt’s hand, and lets out a moan that Kurt covers with a kiss.  

“Give me a second,” Blaine says, breathlessly, holding firmly against the wall as he comes down.  

Kurt smirks, licking the come off his fingers.  His own cock is throbbing with need but there’s something incredibly satisfying seeing Blaine loose and fucked out.  

Blaine takes a second to put himself back in his pants and then goes down on his knees.  This isn’t at all what Kurt had been expecting, and his eyes go wide as Blaine sucks a kiss over Kurt’s clothed cock.  

“You really don’t have to do that,” Kurt says, feeling a little guilty.  Blaine’s legs are sticking out of the stall door and anyone could interrupt them.  

“Shut up and let me blow you, Kurt,” Blaine says, a wicked grin on his face as he unzips Kurt’s zipper.  Kurt’s cock bobs free, and like a man allowed to drink water after years in the desert, Blaine sucks Kurt all the way down in one go.  

“Jesus, fuck Blaine.”  He really doesn’t care if there’s anyone else in there who can hear them.  Blaine had always been good at blow jobs; always so eager to give them, and Kurt’s glad to know that Blaine’s enthusiasm hasn’t changed.  Blaine sucks him down, greedily, and he loses himself in the sensation of Blaine’s velvety mouth on him.  

“I’m curious about something,” Blaine says, pulling off.  Kurt can’t imagine what, but he doesn’t have to wait long to find out.  Blaine begins to stroke him, slowly, drawing it out.  Then sucks a kiss to the tip of Kurt’s cock, using his tongue to swirl and tease it, before he sucks him down once more.  Kurt lets out a heavy groan as his knees nearly buckle.  “Huh. So that really still does things for you?”

Kurt can’t help but give a little laugh.  “Shut up and finish me off, Blaine,” Kurt manages the tease despite him now being desperate to come.  

Amused, Blaine obliges, sucking Kurt into his mouth again. Kurt closes his eyes, taking it all in as he lets Blaine take him over the edge.   He spills into Blaine’s mouth, Blaine being able to swallow with ease -- something, he notes, Blaine hadn’t been able to do before.  As Blaine pulls off, he licks his lips, and remains on his knees for a long moment.  

The atmosphere then shifts suddenly.  Blaine looks down for a long while, and Kurt can’t tell what Blaine’s feeling -- Guilt? Sadness? Regret?

“Thank you for that,” Blaine says, his sincerity layered with something that feels like finality.  Blaine gives Kurt’s hip a kiss before helping put Kurt back into his jeans.  There’s something strangely intimate about it, and despite the fact that Kurt is feeling blissed out from his orgasm it’s now tinged with a heavier, unknown feeling.  Blaine gets to his feet.  There’s a lot going on behind his eyes that Kurt can’t read, but Blaine says nothing, only gives Kurt a soft kiss on the lips.  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

Blaine leaves the stall but Kurt stays, unsure what to make of everything that happened.  A lot just happened.  A lot.  And as the buzz of sex begins to wear off, a sickening gnawing grows in his stomach.  He just had sex with his ex-fiancé whom he hasn’t seen in years.  He just cheated on his boyfriend.  But what makes Kurt feel the worst, as he slides down the wall to sit on the sticky floor because his legs can no longer hold him, is the realization that for Blaine - that might have been his way of saying goodbye.  

#s.o. writes things #head over feet #klaine #klaine fic