#maybe it's time to go to my neglected watercolors
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mokakeeki · 1 year ago
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"My second wish, then."
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tojikai · 5 months ago
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Permanent Mark⁺ : FORLORN
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Grateful to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning and for the support~♡
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Pairing: Gojo x reader
Permanent Mark Masterlist
Genre: Angst
tags/cw: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, implied suicide
word count: 2.6k
a/n: this alternate storyline imagines what could have happened if Y/N had faced a different fate.
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He's merely a ghost, beseeching to be haunted by your echoes.
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I’ll make things right. I shouldn’t be too late, right? My Y/N and I will be fine. The moment she wakes up, I will apologize. I’ll tell her I messed things up. That I made the wrong decision. That I’m coming home with her. That I’ll never leave again. 
We’re gonna make it. 
We’re gonna make it. 
We’re gonna make it. 
“She didn’t make it.” 
Satoru’s steps halted. The world halted. He's been pacing back and forth in the hospital corridor. Despite the chaos of the people coming in and out of the hospital, the voices bouncing on the white walls, and the cries of families who want nothing but to go home with their loved ones, the ticking of Satoru’s wristwatch is still the loudest. 
It felt like every second added another boulder on his shoulder, making it harder to drag his feet on the tiled walls. Rie looked like she’d been awake all night when they’d only been here for a couple of minutes. Satoru could almost feel the blood behind his eyes, his nerves waiting to burst and he would be covered in it. 
Covered in blood, drenched in guilt, weighed down by regrets.
The doctor’s words reverberated inside his head. The roof of his mouth felt strangely hot as he heard cries behind him. Then, he was tackled to the ground. He didn’t even try to fight back, he just welcomed each blow that his best friend threw on his face, growling “You fucking bastard,” He could hear Rie screaming and his vision blurring as he struggled to stand up, “Y/N, let me see my Y/N.” It was an incoherent murmur as he tried to get to her door.
He was a bit dizzy from the blow and his knees were too weak to fight back. He felt like a bird with tied wings as two people restrained him from going to the room. Satoru could tell that his nose was bleeding but this is nothing compared to losing you. 
The irreversibility of his mistakes is now staring him right in the face and he has no choice but to stare back.
He can hear Suguru cursing him out while his tears bring forth realizations: Your parents were inside, after a long time of absence and months of separation from you, this is the first time that they’re seeing you again, not even breathing. The last thing you’d remember of them was how they never cared, neglecting you until you lost colors.
And Satoru… the last thing you'll remember of him will be his anger, his hatred, and the pain he caused you by turning your years of love into dust. The last thing you'll remember of him will be how he put someone else above you, even though he was the summit of your world.
The last thing you’ll remember is being unloved. By your family. By the man you love. 
Satoru tried to claw his way past the arms that were holding him back, begging for just a glimpse. He cannot believe that it’s true unless he sees you. But even if he does…his brain and his heart wouldn’t allow him to believe it too. The next thing made everything impossible for him as he lost strength in all of his limbs and eventually blacked out.
“Y/N.” He called out one last time before closing his eyes. 
—---------------------------------
Earlier
You can hear your sobs, and your heartbeats are like loud knocks in your ears. You sped up, vision spinning but this is nothing compared to the throbbing pain in your chest. You want to go as fast as you can, believing that maybe then your wheels would burn and dry all the tears that are running down your face. Everything around you was softened by the pools in your eyes.
Even the setting sun looked like a watercolor painting before you, the second brightest thing in your world.
You bit your lip to control your sadness from spilling out. You want to block out the words he said to you, you want to forget how he looked at you there. How those eyes you still love so much now look at you with such reproach, almost disdainful. Even at that moment, they still look so vibrant, enough to color a town. You let out a strained gasp, grasping your shirt as you come to a realization:
You will be stuck in this monochrome box as he paints someone else’s home. 
Before you knew it, the sun had disappeared and there was only darkness in front of you. You blinked away your tears but it didn’t work. Where am I driving? You asked yourself but it was too late to hit the brakes. For a very short moment—a split second even—your flesh trembled before you heard a loud crash. 
And then there was nothing. The sun was eaten up by that darkness in front of you and engulfed you along with it. Your body doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. You hear voices but the sound is distorted when they reach your ears. You couldn’t move. Slowly, you felt like you were sinking to the ground. The noises were getting faint and you could barely feel your heartbeat in your chest.
You slipped in and out of your consciousness, each time more chaotic than the last. There was the sound of the siren and a white dancing light pointing directly into your eyes. You can barely feel the air entering your lungs. Am I dying? You wanted to ask but your body was too numb. 
If you are, this is going to be your second death today. 
—---------------------------------
“Just let me be with her for a bit, Ma'am. Please,” Satoru didn't stop the tears from coming as he begged your mother. He knows he doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve to mourn you but there's nothing he wouldn't do. After everything that happened at the party, it all felt like a nightmare to him; something so unreal that up until now he still refuses to believe it.
His mother was with him during the burial, as he begged on his knees for a last moment. But your parents weren’t as soft as you. Even as he looked into your kind father’s eyes, he couldn’t find an ounce of pity. Why would he feel sorry for the man who tore his daughter apart? Out of all the hurtful things your mother has said, your father’s last words to Satoru are the ones that scarred him the deepest. It will haunt his ghost til its next life:
“I hope your guilt doesn’t consume you as completely as my daughter’s love for you did to her.”
Finding out about your pregnancy was another knife, twisting in his chest. The fact that you never found out was another bullet to his heart. So, you weren’t the only one he abandoned that day. Your heart wasn’t the only one he broke. It wasn’t just your own sadness you were carrying inside you but the unborn future’s lamentation too. 
Til the very end, the people looked at him as nothing but a man with clean hands and a blood-stained shirt. “Come to think of it, even in her last moments she saved you.” Suguru spat at his face when they ran into each other during the funeral. The main reason for the accident was your alcohol intoxication. But Suguru knows too damn well why it all happened.
The only one that wept with him was the sky. The thunders screamed the same accusations at him. The people will see his cries as tears of guilt but no one will understand how his heart died with you in that hospital bed. No one will know how the things he did will forever sleep with him under his pillows, hammering words into his head.
Rie is a strong woman, watching him on his knees, bawling his eyes out as he screamed his love for you to nothingness. She’s a tough woman, entering his room only to hear him label his relationship with her as a mistake, wailing for a do-over. She’s a brave woman who holds him in her arms, whispering her love for him only to be answered with murmurs of I’m sorry’s.
Rie is strong, but a month is too long to stay with someone who will forever yearn for another.
She was hoping for him to stop her, maybe just ask her to give him time, it wouldn’t have mattered how long but he never did. “I’m sorry.” He said, nodding as he traced the mouth of his cup. “Will you be fine?” She asked, first, out of concern and second, to allow a bit of time in hopes that he’d change his mind.
“No, but it’s alright.” He spoke, eyes void of emotion. They almost looked more grey rather than blue now. “Whatever that has happened is on me. I shouldn't have even let it happen.” She knows that he’s not just referring to the accident. His blunt confession of how his relationship with her was a mistake sends a chill down her spine and an ache in her entire being.
How could he so openly tell her that he regrets being with her? 
She guessed it was a small price to pay for taking part in breaking someone’s heart. And the larger bill was outside, lurking as she was faced with whispers in every company she tried working on, the continuous ringing of the numbers she called, and the neverending hours of one-sided conversations with her friends.
The rust of guilt will eat away at her bones as she tries to crawl back to where she came from.
Shoko was never the one to hold grudges. But for the longest time, she couldn’t talk to Satoru. She’d find herself spending most of her free time with you, even if she never got answers. Then she’d leave again like she always did before. If she regrets something, it’d be not being to be with you as much as she should be as a friend. Her job doesn’t allow for much time for rest.
Just like how it doesn’t allow enough time for mourning. 
“You need to start continuing your life. You’re just insulting Y/N being like that now.” She looked away as she lit a cigarette. She called Satoru over to her clinic today, worried about how his mother called her crying when he wouldn’t answer his phone. It’s almost been a year since your passing and she could barely recognize him. 
“Do you know where Suguru is?” He asked, voice hoarse as he licked his cracked lips. Shoko was grateful that his mother chose to take over his business. It’ll only fall down with him like this. He was breathing but barely alive. “Do not try to talk to him.” That’s the only thing she said, but Satoru already understands.
Suguru didn’t want to blame his friend when he was obviously devastated too. But hearing the doctor’s words that day, the first thing he thought of was that if Satoru hadn’t provoked it, you wouldn’t have left and driven drunk. He’d sound selfish if he said he was the most crushed of them all but how else does he cope with a loss of a love that never began?
The last time he’s been to your grave was on the burial day. He never went back again. He thought that maybe if he didn’t see it as much, his mind wouldn’t think of it like that. Maybe his mind wouldn’t remember your death. Maybe he can fool himself into thinking you’re just somewhere far away, working at your mother’s company.
“You don’t get to feel sad. You don’t get to feel sad as much as I do. Not when you already killed her before she even died in that accident.” He pulled at his friend's collar as tears streamed down their faces. “You don’t get to feel sad after what you’ve done, Satoru.” Suguru fears that even after years, he’d still feel resentment for his friend.
“If you weren’t planning on treating her well, you should’ve just let me love her instead, Satoru.” He let his shirt go along with the emotions he was hiding. “If you weren’t planning on keeping her, you should’ve just left her alone.” He whispered, stepping away as he turned his back to him, regaining his composure. This man is grieving too, he reminded himself.
The grief was heavier than the sea of blue in his eyes.
He looked so drained, like he died along with you and maybe he did, because staring into his eyes, Suguru couldn’t find his best friend anymore. When confronted by the uncontrollable materialization of the consequences of their actions, humans deteriorate from the inside.
He wanted to hug him, to cry with him, and let him put some of his heaviest feelings on him but he couldn't. “Live well, Satoru. Y/N wouldn’t want you like this,” He sniffed, running a hand down his face as he turned to his friend again, tapping his shoulder before stepping out. 
It’s so hard to feel bad for someone who brought the tragedy upon themselves.
Years will pass and Satoru remains the same, an empty skeleton of who he was before, a vessel of memories and the love you generously left, a cage of regret, guilt, and suffering that he harvested from bad seeds that he planted. “It shall pass,” The doctor said, passing him a blister pack, “You’ll feel better with time.” It just makes him want to laugh. The man doesn’t understand that what he needs can’t be found in this world.
He would lie awake for hours, with exhaustion gnawing at him but still his eyes remained stubbornly open. Reality was punishing him by keeping him awake, blocking out his only means of escape and portal to you. Drinking wasn’t a solution, it was more of a problem. There was this one time that he drank so much, he thought he was seeing you. 
His mother found him on his knees, his forehead touching the floor as he begged you to come back, apologizing to the air as his tears hit the tiles of his house. It’s no use, you will never come back and even then, his hallucinations of you were inanimate, unmoving, and cold. 
He gazed at a jar filled with wilting flowers on the table—some had lost their color, while others were on the verge of fading. Standing up, he fetched a new one in his jacket’s pocket and cut off its stem before carefully placing it with the others.
These flowers came from the bouquets that he left on your grave. Each time he’d visit, he’d take one flower with him and keep it in this jar. It’s his way of coping, thinking that he still has a piece of you with him. It felt both comforting and painfully inadequate. Satoru doubts that anything will ever change in his life. Even if each person on Earth introduces someone or something new to him, nothing will fill the void.
Satoru wondered if you saw him as others do: merely guilty, not genuinely in love. It’d be another blow to his already beaten-up heart. Listening to the ticking of the clock, his shadow cast on the wall of his room. The quiet was eerie; it had been for years. This house had lost its colors long ago. 
It is during these times when he remembers how you’d spent sleepless nights together, just soaking in the presence of one another. Maybe if he sleeps, he’d dream of how you used to rest your head on his chest. Taking the last of his pill, Satoru stared at his ceiling one last time.
As he closed his eyes, he prayed to wake up beside you. 
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thecreativeblossom · 3 years ago
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365 Days of Art
       It started with Inktober, in 2017. I was enthusiastic because I could see the improvement in my art, in just 30 days. I worked as a digital artist for more than 10 years before, but this was just the beginning of my watercolor journey. I've been always too scared to begin. I felt the paper was too expensive for a beginner like me, I would ruin all my paintings and it would be a waste of money. I used to create watercolor effects in my digital vector artworks, just so that I could see some texture that would remind me of painting, but that was not real. And then one day I decided, I will pursue my passion for watercolor.
       I gave myself a year to learn, I took 2 short courses in January 2018, but because I was painting on a daily basis, I didn't feel the need to learn anymore. I felt like practice did its wonders. There were no rules, as long as I painted in watercolors, and because I didn't want to feel pressure, I decided I will paint whatever I want. I've been wanting to paint whatever I wanted for a long time, but working with clients was always a priority and I kept neglecting my passion for art. I was surprised of how this project became a part of my life, a new skill that made me excited. It was a real challenge, which means it was by no means easy. Sometimes I had no inspiration, or I didn't like the way the paintings turned out, but almost 99% times I kept the painting and uploaded it. This project was teaching me not just to paint, but to understand life better. I often caught myself feeling disappointed about the outcome of the whole project, because I had a bad day and I didn't like the painting I created. Or, I was enthusiastic and I thought all my paintings will be successful from that point, only because I had a great day painting. I always surprised myself, because when I thought I couldn't go on, I somehow did. This was a great lesson, isn't it the same in life? Whenever you get disappointed by a bad day, there's always a new blank page on the next day. The pressure of coming up with something new every day, helped me to dive deep into my soul and find things that I didn't even know were there. I've learnt so much about myself, I became aware of who I am, what my style is and how I communicate visually. I realised I love nature, animals and people, and I found my color palette as well.
       Though it didn't turn out the way I've planned, because I always set the bar too high, I started to have migraines and health problems, unfortunately. But I kept painting, just with a slower pace and took some days off when I needed. People started to recognise my new style and I have received many requests to work on amazing projects. Lot of things happened, but what is important now, is that in the present I am working as a full-time illustrator for an awesome company. While this experience and all the work I've invested in my career helped me to get where I am today, the project still goes on, but only when I have the time for it.
       The 365 days of art project is the best thing that happened in my life. I could write a whole book about it, there's so much more to share, but maybe some other time.
I invite you to visit my online shop, prints and stationery items with selected artworks I've specifically created for the 365 days project:
The Creative Blossom
Totally random, but I love this quote:
       "It doesn't matter how bad things are, we can always renew ourselves." - Pax, written by Sara Pennypacker
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jlalafics · 5 years ago
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“I loved you first”-an Everlark fic
This prompt was requested by @b-boop5. Thanks love!
5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”
Summary: There are divorced couples. Then, there are Katniss and Peeta Mellark.
I loved you first
Johanna Mason looked around the high school field, lined with rows of plastic chairs. In front of her stood two middle-aged women, dressed in their ceremony best, looking over the crowd gathering for the graduation.
“I didn’t have a chance to look over my program, but who is the Valedictorian?” one woman asked.
“It’s the Mellark girl—Adeline,” the other woman responded. “She’s heading to Stanford this Fall, you know.”
“I’m not really familiar with her…I don’t think that she and Katie really hang out.”
“Oh—everyone knows about the Mellarks.” Johanna moved in closer, grimacing at the woman’s overwhelming floral perfume. “Adeline’s parents were practically teenagers when they had her. They stay together long enough to have Adeline’s younger brother before getting divorced.”
“So, they’re what? In their thirties?”
“About that. Katniss, her mother, barely looks like she’s hitting her thirties. She owns that cute little boutique downtown.”
“And, the Dad?”
“Oh God—Peeta Mellark. A delicious specimen of a man. He’s the CEO of Mellark Bakery; his family started it from a small, mom-and-pop bakery and he turned it into a franchise. Now, they’re all over the country.”
Johanna was suddenly blinded as two hands covered her eyes. She smelled the faint scent of sugar and watercolor paints.
“You’re messing up my makeup, Luke,” she warned.
Whirling around, Johanna beamed at a gangly blond, grinning at her.
“Aunt Johanna!” Luke wrapped his arms around her. “You came!”
“Of course.” She embraced her nephew tightly. “Where’s your mother?”
“Her and Dad are heading down,” Luke informed her. “They’re deciding which restaurant to go to for Grandma’s birthday next weekend.”
“There they are,” the gossiping woman suddenly said. “Peeta and Katniss Mellark. The perfect exes.”
“Are you sure? They looked like they’re still into each other.”
Luke and Johanna locked eyes; the young boy rolling his at the two women being not-so-discreet.
“They’ve been that way for years. Every PTA meeting or school event, they’re together and usually talking amongst themselves, his arm around her shoulders and her leaning against him, just like now—here they come!”
“Johanna!” Katniss pulled away from her ex to rush into the woman’s arms. “I’m so glad you came!”
“I wouldn’t miss AJ’s graduation for anything,” Johanna replied. “And, how is my favorite ex-cousin doing?” She looked to the man talking to her nephew. “Hey, asshole.”
Peeta grinned at her. “Hello to you too, Johanna.”
“How are you enjoying Panem so far?” Katniss asked her.
Johanna looked to the shocked women, both red with embarrassment. She gave them a wink.
“It’s been illuminating.”
++++++
“Apparently, you and Peeta, are the ‘It’ couple when it comes to divorces,” Johanna informed the two as they found their seats.
“Are we?” Katniss looked to her ex-husband with a smile. “Did you hear that, Peeta? We’re the cool divorcees.”
Peeta snorted. “Don’t these people have anything else to talk about?” He sat next to Katniss, giving Luke the aisle seat so he could take pictures of his sister walking down towards the stage. His arm snaked over to the back of Katniss’ chair. “Sometimes I forget how small it is here.”
“Well, you two are freakishly close,” Johanna pointed out. “Probably more than most married couples.”
“It’s kinda true, parents,” Luke added as he played with the lens of his camera. “My friends are always surprised when I tell them you’re divorced.”
“Why are your friends so nosy, teenager?” Peeta asked.
“Because their parents ask.” Luke turned to them. “It’s not like I mind. I don’t really remember when you were together, but if it was the opposite of this, then I’m glad you’re divorced.”
“That’s very mature of you, sweetheart,” Katniss told their son.
Peeta smiled fondly at his ex-wife. “We made some smart children.”
She returned the gesture, her eyes on the handsome man. “All from me.”
He leaned towards her ear. “I don’t doubt that.”
Katniss trembled; even after all these years, Peeta always knew how to make her come undone. They had known one another since they were children, had fallen deeply in love when they were juniors in high school, and Katniss was pregnant by graduation.
They had tried to make it work.
The birth of Adeline had brought them even closer and they loved their daughter with all their hearts. However, the extra responsibility had been a lot on the young parents who both juggled work and college part-time.
Katniss and Peeta’s parents had rallied to help the two. Their families helped take care of the adorable cherub that Adeline was while they went to school. On the weekends, Peeta was at the Mellark Bakery, learning how to manage his parents’ business. Katniss would be at their apartment, textbooks on the kitchen table and their daughter in her arms.
They both graduated with business degrees.
Katniss was pregnant with Luke during their college ceremony.
By Luke’s first birthday, Peeta and Katniss could see the cracks in their relationship. Peeta had been spending less time at home, trying to bring Mellark Bakery up the corporate chain. Katniss was unsure what she wanted to do and had little time to think about it as she raised their two children.
Also, they both had tempers.
As the children slept, they argued, going to bed angry. Sometimes, one or both would be in tears.
By the time Luke was two and Adeline six, they had agreed to a divorce.
Katniss and Peeta sat their families down and told them that they would be separating but amicably. Katniss would have the home that they had bought together, and it would be where the children would live. Peeta would move into an apartment nearby and would have them on the weekends.
Their main priorities were Adeline and Luke. They wanted their children to grow up in a loving, supportive environment.
It was hard in the beginning; they still loved one another…but something changed. Maybe they had become too different or they had just grown apart.
Whatever caused their breakup hurt like hell.
They continued to push forward; Katniss eventually decided to open her boutique, Primrose—named after her younger sister. Peeta became a silent partner, helping her purchase the space, but mostly staying out of the way as a gesture of goodwill towards his ex-wife.
Now, Katniss could say with confidence that Peeta was one of her best friends and vice-versa.
They had dinners together with the kids—sometimes without them. She would go to the Mellark Home for Thanksgiving and Peeta would attend the annual Christmas party at her parents’ house.
They went to every recital, sports event, and even spelling bee together. The kids never felt neglected—at least she hoped they didn’t—and both parents had great relationships with Adeline and Luke.
“It’s starting!” Luke called out. He put the viewer of his camera to his eye as the strains of ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ began.
The navy-clad graduates were led by Haymitch Abernathy—Senior Class advisor and teacher—who held the school banner as he walked down the aisle to cheers and camera flashes.
He was followed by the Senior Student Council, each with white stoles denoting their roles.
Then, wearing gold stoles, were the Valedictorian and Salutatorian.
Adeline beamed excitedly, her long dark waves moving with her, as she walked down the aisle. Next to her, Evan Odair smiled, his cheeks red and his eyes caught on Katniss and Peeta’s beautiful daughter.
Adeline spotted her parents, waving excitedly, and flashing a peace sign as Luke took her picture.
Katniss took a deep breath, trying to keep her tears at bay. Sometimes, she still saw the little girl who would beg her to play tea party with her every afternoon.
Now, that little girl was getting ready to take on the world—and she wouldn’t need her mother anymore.
Peeta put an arm around her, pulling her side against his.
“She’s always going to need us, Katniss,” he assured her.
Katniss turned to him. “How did you know what I was thinking?”
Peeta reached, wiping the stray tear off her cheek, and giving her a sad smile.
“Because I know us,” he told her. “We all grew up together—you, me, Luke, and Addie. And, we’re never going to stop needing each other.”
Katniss nodded and he pressed a kissed to her temple.
Next to the exes, Johanna rolled her eyes.
Brainless, the both of them.
++++++
“Now, I would like to call up our Valedictorian—” Voluminous applause rang through the crowd along with some shouts from the rowdier seniors. “—an ambitious young woman who, besides maintaining a 4.0 GPA and taking all available AP classes, is the president of our youth volunteer club, one of our most popular tutors and a peer mediator. From personal experience, it has been an honor to have someone to debate with in class—” The crowd laugh at his words. “Ladies and gentlemen, Adeline Jane Mellark.”
The crowd was riotous as Adeline stepped onto the stage. She was always popular, though she never had a particular crowd that she hung out with. She went to prom with Evan—as friends—though Katniss believed that the boy next door had always wanted more.
However, Adeline had always been a free spirit.
She admitted to Katniss that she didn’t want to be tied down to anyone since she would be leaving for school—despite the cuteness of Evan’s smile.
Adeline stepped up to the podium, beaming at the crowd.
“Good afternoon, faculty members, families, and senior class,” she began. “My name is Adeline Jane Mellark. Most of you know me as AJ or, if you’re my Dad, Addie. I am supposed to be up here trying to inspire and give you advice for what comes next. However, I don’t think I could give you any advice as I’m in the same boat as the rest of you. I don’t know what’s coming next.”
Katniss leaned forward; her eyes trained on her daughter. Peeta sat in rapt attention, his own stare on their daughter.
“I can tell you that, whenever I’m not sure what to do, I think of my parents. You see, my mom and dad had me right after they graduated high school. They had to navigate going to college along with raising a child and by the time they graduated college, my brother came along. When I think about it, we grew up together.” Adeline smiled to herself. “We learned together.”
She met Katniss’ eyes.
“My mom taught me to always focus on what I want, to never back down, to fight for what I believe in.”
Peeta reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.
“My Dad—” She heard Peeta’s breath hitch. “—taught me that there is good in everyone; that sometimes to get back on track all you need to do is look at a sunset, and to always have hope.”
She grinned.
“Mom, Dad…I just wanted to say that I’m proud to be your daughter. That, because of you, I am not afraid of what comes next. You both taught me lessons that I’m going to carry with me my whole life—that no matter what happens, I’ll always have a place to just be me.”
Adeline looked at her classmates.
“We’re always going to have each other. So, when you’re feeling lost or scared, think back to this moment—this is our place to be us. This great moment of excitement…fear…of endings…and beginnings—life is full of them. Enjoy them. It has been an honor to be part of this graduating class and I wish you all the best of luck in whatever comes next. Thank you and congratulations!”
The crowd was up on their feet and, over the sea of people, Adeline met her parents’ identical teary gazes to blow them both a kiss.
++++++
“You must be so proud, Peeta,” the woman…Karen—he wasn’t sure what her name was—said. “Adeline is so accomplished.”
In return, Peeta gave the woman a conciliatory smile. “Katniss and I are very proud of her.”
Beside him, Finnick and Annie Odair stifled their laughter at her obvious flirting in the middle of his own daughter’s graduation reception. The couple had been friends with the Mellarks since they moved into the neighborhood.
“It’s going to be awfully lonely for you now that Adeline’s going to be moving away,” she simpered.
“Not really. Our son is just entering high school. Katniss and I are sure we’ll have our hands full.”
“Luke is definitely a spitfire,” Finnick said. “But a hell of an artist.”
“He’s going to the fine arts high school, correct?” The woman frowned. “Do you think that’s the right path? The artist route isn’t very lucrative.”
“Well, it’s a damn good thing that Peeta and I care more about our children’s happiness than the amount of money they’ll make.” Katniss joined his side and gave the woman a cool smile. “Clarissa, we’re so glad you could join us.”
“Thank you for having us.” The woman looked around the house. “You have a beautiful home.” Her eyes suddenly darted behind them. “If you’ll excuse me.”
She was gone in a second.
“Clarissa! That was her name!” Peeta snapped his fingers, turning to his ex-wife. “This whole time I thought it was Karen.”
Katniss chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you called her Karen.”
“Peeta couldn’t get a word in,” Annie explained. “The woman had her sights on becoming the new Mrs. Mellark.”
“Many have tried, all have failed,” Peeta said. “Anyway, I’m not looking.”
“Why not?” Katniss questioned. “I was just too perfect, wasn’t I?”
He flashed her a smile. “We all didn’t find a Gale Hawthorne, did we?”
Peeta tried not to cringe saying the man’s name. Katniss had been dating him casually for six months, but he could tell that the man was set on making things official.
“Where is Prince Charming, anyway?” Finnick asked, his disdain obvious. Their friend had always believed that he and Katniss would eventually reunite. According to him, they had too much fire to be just friendly exes.
“Probably somewhere polishing his crown,” Peeta replied with a short laugh.
The look on Katniss’ face quickly cut him off. She looked disappointed.
“Peeta, you’re better than that,” she admonished softly. “Excuse me.”
Katniss walked away, heading upstairs, and his heart sank seeing the slump in her shoulders.
“What the fuck was that?” Annie asked, looking between the men.
“Truthfully, I think Gale is a douche,” her husband admitted. “I don’t know what the hell Peeta was on about—” Finnick looked to the downhearted man. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”
Peeta glared. “Why would I be jealous?”
Finnick guffawed. “Because the man is probably pounding into your ex-wife who you’re still pining over.”
“Focus, you two!” Annie pushed Peeta forward. “You should probably talk to her.”
“I’m already on it.”
++++++
Katniss looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.
Why was she even upset about Peeta’s remark? It wasn’t like it was mean.
Truthfully, Gale was a little high on himself sometimes. He was successful, having his own real estate firm, and had taken her to some nice places.
While he didn’t make an effort to get to know Adeline or Luke, she hadn’t gone out of her way to encourage his involvement with her children either. They didn’t need another father figure.
Truthfully, Katniss kept him because he saw her as a woman—and not just a wife or mother.
There had been a point in her marriage to Peeta where they stopped seeing each other as people and started seeing one another as parents who just slept next to one another. It was hard to keep the romance alive when she always had a baby to her chest.
Their fights had been epic and an argument over which preschool Adeline would go to ended with a bout of angry sex against the doorway of their bedroom.
Then, she ended up pregnant with Luke.
One day, they looked wearily to one another and both realized it was over.
They had no fight in them left.
“Katniss?” Peeta stood at the bathroom doorway, guilt on his face. “You okay?”
Katniss turned to him, crossing her arms as she faced him. “I guess.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he told her.
“I just don’t want us to get to that point where we’re snipping at one another,” Katniss told him. She moved past him to walk into her bedroom and sat on her bed. “I hated that.”
Peeta joined her. “Me, too.” He sighed, giving her a doleful look. “I’m just not used to not being the number one man in your life.”
She knocked into his shoulder, a smile rising on her lips.
“Peeta…you know that Luke is number one.”
“I will concede to our son,” Peeta told her. “Addie is going out with her friends tonight and Luke is sleeping over at Christian’s house. They have a video game to conquer, apparently. Did you want to have dinner? Like a parents of the Valedictorian celebration? We can go to that Chinese place that we love—with the mu shu you like.”
Katniss gave him an apologetic smile.
“After the cleaning crew leaves, I’m having dinner with Gale tonight.”
Peeta nodded. “How about I stay while the crew cleans up and you two can go on your date earlier?”
She raised a brow. “You sure?”
He stood, holding out his hand. “Truce?”
Katniss took it, standing and giving him a hug, her nose pressing his shoulder. She always enjoyed his smell, that warm spiciness of his cologne. It was comforting yet it still made her heart skip a beat whenever it hit her nostrils.
“We better get downstairs,” she said into his shirt. “We have a speech to make.”
Peeta nodded, lifting her chin so he could look into her eyes. “We did it, Katniss.”
“What do you mean?”
They walked out of her bedroom and Katniss looped her arm through his as they headed down the hallway towards the stairs.
“Remember when she was first born? We were both so scared of screwing her up…but we didn’t,” he told her.
They descended the stairs, staring at one another.
“I remember. I was constantly snippy and wanting to call the doctor at every weird noise she made,” she replied. “And, you were always worried about dropping her or cursing in front of her!”
“I may have cursed once or twice. Much more around Luke—” Katniss snorted and he laughed. “Things get a little more relaxed with the second one!”
Katniss sighed. “True.” They stopped halfway down, and she turned to him. “I’m sorry if I ever took my parenting fears out on you. It probably contributed to a lot of our fights.”
Peeta shrugged. “I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. All those late nights at the office…”
“It’s all in the past now,” she interjected.
At the foot of the stairs, Adeline and Luke were talking to Evan and his parents. When she turned to look at them, their daughter hurried up the stairs with a bright smile on her face before wrapping her arms around her parents.
“Thanks, you two.” Adeline pulled away; her blue eyes glowing. “This is a great party and you did so much—”
“You deserve it,” Peeta told her tenderly.
“You’re our little girl,” Katniss said. “We always kind of knew we would be spoiling you!” Adeline giggled. “And, we are enormously proud. A bit braggy, too…”
“Aunt Johanna told me about those two women gossiping about you guys,” their daughter informed them quietly. “It makes sense, though. Their daughters are bitches.”
Peeta guffawed and Katniss raised a brow at their daughter’s words. That was thing about Adeline; she never pussyfooted. Like Katniss, she could be blunt when need be. However, she was naturally empathetic like Peeta.
“While I’d usually prefer that you didn’t curse, you’re eighteen so I can’t really stop you,” Katniss said.
“Thanks, Mom!” They made their way to the last three steps and Adeline went to a nearby server, who handed her two glasses of champagne. She walked over to them, handing them both a glass. “Good luck, you two.”
Stepping back, Adeline joined her brother and friend.
Katniss turned to Peeta, a nervous grin gracing her face. “Go on. You’re better with this than I am.”
He chuckled, leaning to kiss her cheek.
“You’re probably right.” She elbowed him, ignoring the heat rising on her face. “You’re really too easy to fluster.”
Peeta cleared his throat and Luke tapped the glass he was holding with a spoon to catch everyone’s attention.
“Thank you, Luke,” he told their son, who grinned back with a smile so much like his own. “Thank you all for attending this reception. Katniss and I would just like to say a few words about our daughter…”
++++++
“How did the graduation go?” Gale asked as he cut into his steak, his eyes focused on the slab of meat.
“It was wonderful,” Katniss replied. She reached for her fork to cut into her salmon. “I wish you could’ve come to the reception. You would’ve enjoyed it.”
“It’s not really my thing,” the man replied easily. “No one wants the boyfriend at the family party. Anyway, I already gave Adeline her graduation gift.”
Her daughter had smiled blankly as Gale handed her the two gift cards; one for Target for school supplies and the other one to get a full tank of gas for her Prius.
It wasn’t that her daughter was ungrateful; she admitted to Katniss that Gale seemed a little…cold towards her and Luke—as if he didn’t like them.
However, who wouldn’t adore Katniss’ children?
They were sweet and kind…
The man in front of her, however, looked a little overwhelmed whenever he was in their presence.
“Don’t you like your food?”
Katniss realized that she had yet to take a bite. She gave him a smile before putting a piece in her mouth.
“Delicious.” She swallowed before reaching for her wine glass. She definitely needed to discuss this issue about the children. “Listen—”
“I know what you’re going to say.” Gale placed his utensils down. “Now that Adeline is leaving for school, you’re looking into more time for us.” He gave her a tight smile. “It’s just that we’re getting into the summer and it’s our busiest time with parents trying to buy or rent places for their kids—”
“That wasn’t what I was going to talk to you about that,” she interrupted. “It’s that whenever you’re around my kids, you seem to be a little…aloof.”
Gale looked non-plussed. “I mean, they aren’t my kids. I don’t necessarily need to be obliged to care for them like I’m their father. They have one.”
“I know that and Peeta is a great one,” she explained. “But I thought we were serious in a sense where you’d want to get to know them.”
“Hmmm…maybe if we had our own child, I might have to open up to them.”
Katniss blanched—was she really dating this guy? This man who didn’t want to let her children into his life unless he saddled her with his own?
In that moment, Katniss saw a future where she would once again be changing diapers, waiting for a man who was never home.
Suddenly, she was standing up.
“You know what? I’m going to save you the trouble of having to open up to my children. Goodbye, Gale.”
She made her way toward the exit, but not before grabbing the bottle of wine she paid for from the ice bucket.
++++++
Stepping out of the taxi, Katniss looked up her home, comfort washing over her immediately.
This home was where she watched her children take their first steps…where she’d wait at the front door as they stepped off the school bus and into her arms…where Peeta had carried her over its threshold…
They had purchased the two-story colonial-style house after Luke was born with the help of their parents. Since then, they had repaid the loan tenfold and found comfort that their children had a place to go whenever they needed it.
Heading up the brick walkway, Katniss reached into her purse pulling out her key to unlock the door before stepping into the house.
Closing the door, she was surprised to smell the scent of…cookies.
Toeing off her shoes, Katniss headed towards the kitchen and was surprised to find Peeta pulling out a tray full of chocolate chip cookies—her favorite.
“What are you doing?” she asked from the open doorway.
“Thought that you and the kids would like a fresh batch whenever you got home,” her ex replied as he placed the tray on the counter. Peeta pulled the oven mitts off, tossing them beside the cookies. “You’re home early.”
“Dinner didn’t go so well,” she told him glumly. Katniss presented him with the wine bottle in her grasp. “At least I have a consolation gift—that I paid for.”
“Ouch,” Peeta replied. “Well…cookies are the perfect complement to wine.”
She nodded. “Do you remember where the bottle opener is?”
He went to the second drawer to the left of the counter, pulling out the well-loved gadget. “Always.”
++++++
“Do you remember how we used to stay up late to watch R-rated movies after the kids were asleep?” Peeta asked. “I swear there was one point where I wanted to murder The Wiggles.”
“You didn’t know?” Katniss reached to grab another cookie from the coffee table. “I put a hit on them. That’s why you never hear about them anymore.”
The soft glare of the television was the only light in the room. They had discovered an old romcom that was popular when they were teenagers and decided that it would go well with their late-night snack.
Peeta chuckled, sitting back on the couch. He had changed from his ceremony attire to a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that Katniss had found in her closet. She had also changed into a pair of pajamas while Peeta had set up cookies and wine in the living room.
“If anyone could murder them, it would be you,” Peeta replied. “What time is Addie getting home?”
“I told her midnight was her curfew while she lives here,” Katniss informed him. “Once she’s in college, we will have no say on when she gets home.”
“I’m dreading not knowing what she’s doing.” He turned to her. “Do you think she’s going to come home during the holidays?”
“If she doesn’t want me to go all the way to Stanford to drag her ass here, she will.” Peeta snorted at her words. “She’ll come home. It’s going to be lonely here without her though. Nobody to have mani-pedis with or talk about those stupid reality shows …”
Katniss found herself sniffing back tears. She swiped them away with the back of her hand.
“Ignore me. It’s the wine and ending the most useless relationship in history.”
Peeta waved her over to his side and she scooted in towards him, her head going to his shoulder. She tucked her feet underneath her bottom as he put an arm around her.
“Did you love him?” Peeta asked gently.
“No.” She closed her eyes, taking comfort in the warmth of him. “I’ve had my great love. I don’t need another…I just liked the feeling of someone making an effort to just be with me.”
“And, I wasn’t that way?” he replied tightly.
“Neither of us were making much effort towards the end.” Katniss looked up, seeing his eyes full of hurt. “It was no one’s fault. It just happened. I mean, we didn’t kiss each other anymore.”
“I should’ve kissed you more.” His hand reached to brush her chin and her body tingled, her lower half twisting in that familiar heat. “It was one of my favorite things to do.”
“Until it wasn’t.” Katniss swallowed harshly as she unfolded her legs. They were getting into dangerous territory. Reluctantly, she stood up. “I should clean up—”
Peeta suddenly grabbed her wrist and she stilled at the motion.
Standing, Peeta reached his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.
His other hand went to her cheek. “You’re always going to be my great love. You know that, right?”
Then, his lips were on hers.
Katniss fell easily into his kiss. She always did. Her arms circled his neck as she pressed against him, feeling her nipples tighten against the hard planes of his chest. Peeta’s hands moved down, palming at her ass and she groaned into his mouth, her tongue sweeping into his.
Peeta’s lips moved to her neck. “I forgot how good you tasted.” He sucked against the juncture and she mewled, the heat between her legs growing and her core throbbing. “Do you still taste this good everywhere else?”
“You can find out…later.”
Katniss guided him to sit on the couch as she pulled her unbuttoned her pajama top, shaking it off her quickly. Her breasts were in bare sight, nipples pebbled despite the heat in the room. Her pants were next, and she undid the drawstring before bending down to pull her bottoms down to the carpet.
Peeta stared up at her in awe. “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Katniss smiled softly as she placed her knees on both sides of his lap before straddling him. Her lips went to his in a gentle kiss.
“Have you been with anyone else recently?” she asked against his mouth.
Peeta shook his head. “It’s been a year…and it was only once.” He looked to her. “And Gale?
“Never. He hardly came over and I have never been to his apartment,” Katniss explained. “We mostly had dinner or went to shows that his company was sponsoring.”
Peeta tutted. “Shame.” His hands went to her waist. “Who wouldn’t love to be deep inside you?”
Her hand reached under the waistband of his bottoms, finding him hard. Her hand wrapped around him, stroking smoothly to get him ready. He hissed, his eyes closing and his hips following her motions.
“Please don’t make me come all over myself,” he begged. “I don’t think I’d forgive myself if I did.”
“We wouldn’t want that—” Katniss eagerly helped him pull his pants off, her eyes going immediately to his length, standing erect and the tip of it glistening. She missed his cock—or at least her pussy did, as it immediately pulsed at the sight of him. “—I don’t think either of us is going to last.”
His hand went between her thighs, pushing the cloth between aside to plunge two fingers into her sodden core.
“Damn, you’re wet.” His eyes traveled to meet hers as he slid the digits in and out of her before putting them into his mouth. “You taste even better than I remember.”
“I forgot how I loved the way you looked at me whenever we were together,” she told him, her hands hurriedly moving the last piece of cloth. “Like I was the only woman in the world.”
“To me, you are.”
Her eyes filled and she leaned down to give him another kiss before helping him remove his shirt.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she admonished quietly.
Katniss looked over her ex-husband, familiarizing herself with his body once more. His chest and shoulders were broader and his abdomen firmer. However, there were other things that were the same; the scar on his shoulder from falling at the school playground and the feel of his strong thighs under her.
“Why not?” he asked her, his hand going to the nape of her neck.
He gently drew her down until their foreheads met and she looked into those blue eyes, dark with hunger. Her heart skipped at the intensity of his gaze and she remembered all over again how easy it was to fall in love with Peeta.
“Because this will be harder to forget,” she told him.
Peeta’s hand went to her hip, guiding her over him.
“I don’t want to forget.”
Then, in one motion, he was inside her.
++++++
“Katniss.”
She looked up from behind the register to find Gale standing before her.
“Hi. What are you doing here?” she asked, rounding the counter. “I haven’t heard from you in…”
“Two months,” he replied sheepishly. “Trust me, you don’t forget when a woman walks out on you at a restaurant.”
Katniss crossed her arms. “You kind of deserved it.”
“May I take you out to dinner to apologize?” Gale looked genuinely sorry for his behavior. “I miss you.”
“You don’t even know me,” she countered.
“Give me a chance—unless you’re seeing someone else.”
Her mind wandered to that night…that perfect night with Peeta.
She had forgotten how perfectly he fit inside her. Peeta had been her first and she was his. When they were younger, he had jokingly told her that her insides were perfectly molded to his cock—any other man’s would never fit exactly right.
And, it was true.
He continued to prove his theory a few more times before she insisted that he leave. It wouldn’t do any good for Adeline to see her father and mother reuniting carnally all over the living room couch.
They were still close, but they understood that it had been once and once only.
Even though the sight of him left her soaked.
Or that, occasionally, if Peeta was close enough to her, he would brush his hand against Katniss’ sending her hormones into overdrive.
She shook herself from her thoughts and looked to the man in front of her.
“There’s no one else,” she told him.
“Tonight? I’ll pick you up after closing.” Katniss nodded and Gale leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“See you then.”
Gale walked out of the store, heading towards the Mercedes parked in the front.
Katniss stretched, feeling an ache in her body. Lately, she had felt off. The stress of Adeline getting ready to leave and unexpected sex with her ex had left her feeling out of sorts.
Yesterday, she nearly tore Luke’s head off for leaving his muddy sneakers by the front door after soccer practice.
There was a beep on her phone, and she looked to find a text from Adeline: ‘Mom, you heading to a Target or a drug store after work?’
She typed back, ‘Wasn’t planning to. Do you need anything?’
‘Some Tylenol and tampons.’
‘Sure babe. I’ll see you later.’
Adeline’s cycle was very similar to her own; it came strong, leaving her sometimes unable to even move.
Katniss added soup to her list of things to grab after closing the store.
It always made them feel better during their periods—
Which she did not have, even though she and Adeline were usually in sync.
Katniss turned from the counter where a calendar featuring men with puppies was—no red circle marking the arrival of her period. She took the calendar off its hook before looking at the previous month.
No red circle either.
Fuck.
Without fail, every graduation ended with her being pregnant with Peeta’s child.
FIN(?)
Really enjoyed writing this one, it would make a great four-parter. Thoughts?
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katsukikitten · 5 years ago
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Weighted
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A/N @zbops for you bb as per your request. I hope that this lives up to at least half of your expectations. Thank you so much for supporting me and for encouraging me. Enjoy it and may it help you just a bit more. I send my love XOXO Kitten 💋
It was not unlike you to occasionally stay up late into the night. Late enough to see the moon rise high in the inky black sky watching the constellations move by at a lazy pace.
But to lie awake long enough to greet the sun was abnormal.
At least it was supposed to be abnormal now. Before it was your normal to lose sleep as fat droplets slid from unblinking eyes. Thoughts consuming you with nothing and everything at once.
You thought yourself better.
Not cured, not immune, but well.
Fine and level headed for once.
Yet here you lie again unable to will your exhausted body to sleep as you replay failures from pasted years.
Like an old film one must study to improve but every time it is rewatched another haunting flaw jumps out.
And there is nothing you can do to right your wrong.
Frustrated tears well in your eyes now as you watch the clock for the second week in a row burn an obnoxious 3 am into your retina.
Furious as you thought you had put this problem in its place. That you had long ago learned how to make your demon small and to lock it away.
As with everything in life it adapted, slipping through the bars of its cage only to find itself looming over you once more. Delighting in your anguish as it exploits the coping mechanism you developed.
Turning it on its head to haunt you, to hurt you. To put you in your place as you thought you did it.
Although it knows this will be enough to pain you, it wants to do more.
Truly a petty being as it steals your voice, worming into your head just to whisper.
"Did you really think a few extra hours of training a day would make a difference? That you would suddenly be  sought after as a pro hero? You could barely get an apprenticeship and look at how you're failing at that!"*
This dredges up your failure from last week, your first offical mission as apprentice.
What was supposed to be a normal patrol quickly unraveled into a full on street brawl.
You aided your hero holding down the perpetrators bodies with your quirk, straining to keep them in place.
There were tenty or so overpowered drug enhanced strength quirks fighting the pull you placed on them. 
Your arm pangs now, reminding you of how it threatened to snap beneath the own weight of your quirk.
"Useless." Its laugh echoes in your ear.
Your temper flares, fist smashing the small black box that mocks you with the time before you rise. Dressing into your training clothes, sliding on your weighted vest as your bruises groan against it. You push your already consistent 1.5 times Earth's gravity pull to a consistent 2.5 for now.
Hands grab for your phone and headphones before fumbling to find your key in your amassed returning symptoms. Throwing piles of clothes, books, and homework onto other piles of  long neglected items.
Irritation mixed with a twinge of panic sets in as you look for your FOB that accesses not only the gym you are so desperate to use but also it accesses your dorm building as your dorm room key rests on a chain around your neck. Your memory works overtime as you wonder where it could have been placed.
Was it it Kirishima's room?
Or Bakugou's?
Who's room did the three of you spend the night in last?
You cannot remember, time all runs together much like a watercolor painting caught in the rain.
Colors bleed and the world dips into sun bleached greys as you think of the two of them.
Had you even texted either of them good night?
When was the last time you told them you loved them?
You pick up your phone, bloomed bruised hand winking back at you before the phone obliterates into metal and glass confetti at your feet.
"Fuck." You hiss having forgotten that you had the gravitational pull around your hands as well. Damning yourself for being so careless although you are still careless enough to walk over the shrapnel with bare feet.
It is then you find your key FOB lying in the middle of the chaotic room which you snatch greedily before locking your post nuclear bomb room away.
And with that the thoughts of ash blonde and ruby red hair.
You slink on guilty feet in the shadows of the hall, the moon your only witness as you make your way outside.
The air is cool agaisnt your heated skin, hinting that fall is almost over. That winter will be sure to rear its ugly head and harshly at that.
As if to prove a point an icy wind cuts through your skin deep into your bones, you sigh out upping the force on your body.
The gym is a short walk from the dorm, the night caressing you with soft fingers as it guides you to the thick metal door.
A worried gulp echoes back at you as your hand hovers just before the panel. FOB just out of range to be scanned.
Last time a student was on rest probation their key could only work if Sensei scanned theirs as well.
With gritted teeth you bring the key to kiss smooth plastic. For a moment you're sure it will flash red but when it beeps with a flash of glorious green you cannot help the small smile that spreads across your lips.
They must have forgotten to add those restrictions to yours, that or they didn't think you would disobey your physical therapist and other Sensei.
It doesn't take long before you're sweating.
And the more you swing the harder you make the gravitational pull on your body. The floor groans from the pressure as you push the pull towards you beyond limits for a recovering body, 3.5 times Earth's normal pull.  Sweat slides down a bruised nape and drips into now stinging eyes.
You do little to alleviate the pain or sweat that is trying so hard to blind you.
Another swing of your weighted fists has your bones creaking, muscles burning while you have half a mind to add more sand to your wrist and ankle bands.
Hell maybe even more to your vest although it presses against your sternum harshly with each step, threatening to snap a rib. You begin to lose the concentration on the areas you want to afflict as the incresed gravitational begins to spread out. The floor groans harder depsite being designed to withstand many powerful quirks.
A hairline fraction fissures through the smooth wood, attempting to snake up the cinderblock wall.
"None of this is going to change anything. You will still be..."
A heated punch hits the dummy hard, causing it to skid but you advance without letting up, snarling.
"Don't fucking say it."
Another hit to the dummy and you've got it cornered agaisnt the wall but still the voice goes on, a smile dancing along its tone as it purrs.
*"Worthless"*
You begin to jab agaisnt the dummy with enough momentum and force that the padding begins to fall away from its "face" revealing unforgiving metal beneath.
Metal that you pound into anyway.
Metal that warps for a moment from being too close to your pull, still your barrage of fists and feet cease to let up.
You follow up a punch with a round house kick increasing the force on your body subconsciously. As you rotate your vest slams heavily into your ribs and an audible crack echoes around the room. 
"Fuck!" You huff slamming your foot against the cool surface, the dummy implodes as you land on your feet.
In that moment the room pops from the pressure as you let up the force. The floor creaks, almost breathing as it returns to normal although now heavily warped. Suddenly you feel as light as a feather. As if at any moment you could float up to the ceiling like a lazy balloon only to get tangled in the harsh overhead lights.
Crimson splatters the floor from your knuckles and spit, hand feathering over your ribs. Sliding beneath dampened fabric, smoothing over already bruised skin. You're sure it will only worsen now that you count, one, two.
Three fucking cracked ribs. Your breaths come out in heavy puffs all echoing back to you as you right your self, eyes seeking out another dummy, ignoring the pain begging you to stop.
But feeling pain was better than feeling that weighted void in your chest.
As if you were a super nova that imploded, pulling everything around you into the darkened abyss.
Turning it all into hollowed nothingness.
The first sparring dummy you spy seems to look at you funny, you rear your fist but before it can make contact a growl cuts out.
"You've done enough little one."
His voice dips low, borderline pissed. It is a warning and one you must obey as the air permeates with salted caramel.
But you're in no mood to deal with Katsuki, no mood to be submissive, obedient or anything relative to feeling at all.
Regardless if it's clearly for your own good. 
All you wanted, needed, was for everything to fade.
And maybe to black.
But it doesn't instead he advances hand finding your wrist with a sharp grip, that softens only to assess. Turning your wrist this way and that with heated calculating eyes, before he rips off your weighted vest with a growl. Lifting your shirt to reveal blush black painted beneath your smooth skin.  His finger prods your ribs and when he counts them in his head he snarls. You watch his muscles twitch as he holds himself. Muscles that had grown twice their size since first year and yet you were left unchanging.
"Training is futile, you'll always be puny."
You rip your wrist free, teeth bared at an already snarling Bakugou.
"Not. Now." You misread his actions beneath the initial rage. He is concerned but all you see is punishment in his eyes 
Disappointment.
You look over Katsuki's sculpted shoulder to see Kirishima waiting at the door with glistening ruby eyes that seem to be torn.
Who does he support? How can he defuse this? 
"You're fucking hurt." The blonde bites out venom.
"I'm fucking fine. Drop it!" You shove past him slamming your shoulder into his. He wants so badly to reach for you. To yank you back to him so you can look him in his angry scarlet eyes.
"Oh so the blood on the floor means you're fine? Your cracked ribs and bruised to fuck all body means you're fine?!" His temper shows with deadly pops that dance along his skin.
You weight him and Kirishima down gently as you leave, hoping it slows them down long enough for you to return to the safety of your dorm room.
Katuski snarls as he walks with leaded feet, as if walking through mud under the influence of a muscle relaxer.  But he and Kirishima have trained with you plenty of times, not to mention they are exposed to your increased pull.
"Maybe we should give them sometime? They are upset, babe." Kirishima offers only to be met with a glowering glare. 
"I've tried listening to you, I've tried it your way and look what has happened." A snarl so low that Kirishima feels his gut twist.
"But..."
"But what?" He turns on his lover quickly, "We gave them two weeks of no contact. This is clearly a symptom we need to bisect before they kill themselves over some stupid fucking training."
Kirishima can do nothing but follow as Bakugou stalks you up the steps that you stomp.
You're seething, steam rising from your skin with each heavy breath as your vision blurs between rational thought and white hot rage.
Rage that is always so easy to give into. Especially when your only other option is immobilzing sadness. Before you know it Bakugou is barking at you from the jamb of the door while your ruby haired boyfriend presses gently against his back.
Trying to remind him that his own irate reaction could further the situation, Bakugou feels it but it is lost as you strip to change. You rip the velcro from your wrists, dropping the fifty pounds weights with a harsh thud. The floor rattles the items on your desk and even the window before you move onto the hundred pound weights on your ankles.
Grumbling as you think of your two hundred and fifty pound vest abandoned in the gym. How hard had Bakugou torn it from your strong yet sleek frame?
Would you have to take it to the support class?
You strip your shirt and then your pants as two sets of red eyes gauge different reactions. 
Rubies widen, shining with the threat of tears. While blood scarlet narrow with burning, hot, wrath.
Katsuki knew you were bruised, he knew you had those broken ribs and he knew you were set out of rehabilitation probation due to injuries but he did not know the extent of them.
And how the fuck could he? What with you locking yourself away in your room, refusing to text them, refusing to eat the meals cooked and left for you.
Refusing help as you promised you would not do.
Katsuki's warning signs of blowing do not go unnoticed, a strong hand wraps around his hip. Squeezing, hoping to convey the softness the ash blonde so desperately needs.
It works, at least as far as his quirk goes. Bakugou Katsuki  could erupt in more than one way.
"What. The. FUCK?!" He goes to take a step in but Kirishima keeps his grip tight. But that does not stop the tongue lashing you get. Bakugou takes a large slow breath, as you once taught him and snorts it out like a dragon.
"You promised you would stop doing this..." His voice, once soothing now grating your last nerve, "You fucking promised, damn it."
Kirishima gives another small squeeze before piping up.
"We are just worried about you, love. Very worried." His voice cracks at the end, causing Katsuki to look over his shoulder.
The tears well faster over dancing garnets.
From the weight of the guilt something in you finally snaps. The room blurs as you subconsciously pull the force to you, items slowly crushing beneath the weight as you lunge for the first thing you can wrap burning hands on.
Your desk chair to which your hurl while screaming
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Your hot headed boyfriend catches the chair with ease, exploding it on impact.
With an angry enough blast that the paint on the ceiling and walls peel.
Oh if Bakugou wasn't pissed at you before he was now.
And not angry over the fact that you've thrown something at him.
But over the simple fact that you were hurting in deadly silence. So badly suffering that you cannot even rationally express yourself anymore.
And more over he is pissed he has let it get this far.
The glass of your window shatters behind you, both from your exertion and his explosion pulling you into the here and now.
The room spirals as quickly as you do, suddenly forgetting how to breath. Gasping as a fish does out of water before you fall to your knees. The two men rush to you, fearing you'll lose yourself in your panic. Two sets of strong arms wrap around you both crushing you between them.
"You're okay." Kirishima soothes, "You're okay. Just breathe."
Nails bite into toned flesh though you are unsure which unfortunate mail is receiving the half blood moons as tears prick your eyes. Falling towards the Earth as much as you wish they wouldn't. Your stomach lurches, your side screams but it does not stop the racks of sobs that tremor through your body.
You come undone in the worst way before the very two men you wanted, needed to be strong in front of. There was already a detrimental gap between your development and theirs.  In every fucking aspect you could think of.
Muscle mass.
Durability.
Capability.
The list could go on.
After some time Bakugou coos to you.
"Now tell me what's wrong."
Kirishima places his head between your shoulder blades, reaching out for Bakugou's hand.
"I...I'm behind. I... I cannot even train right." Tears slip over ruddy cheeks that Katuski gently wipes away.
"Behind how?" Kirishima prompts, letting lazy circles trace your stomach.
"On my first mission I get put on recovery suspension, I worked so so so *hard* to even get that hero to agree to take me on and yet I fucked it all up!" Another frustrated sob that has you hiccuping for a moment. You watch Bakugou's face turn to stone as he tries to calm himself.
"I almost died on one of my first big missions. I sat out for a long time, this was a little bit before you transferred." Kirishima admits, "Resting and PT made me stronger."
"Hell I was behind at one point too. I couldn't even fucking pass the provisional!" Katsuki growls at the thought.
"Neither could Todoroki-kun." Kirishima adds.
"But you three...you three are strong. I'm so....weak." With that Bakugou snaps.
"You think I can run with a two hundred fifty pound weight on my chest and keep pace with Iida's jog? Do you think Kirishima could hold down twenty fucking tweaked out villians at once?" His voice is gruff but his hands are soft as he lifts your chin, purposefully making you hold his gaze as he speaks, "Answer me, little one."
"N...no." You sob, Kirishima's strong arm squeezes tigher around your middle, careful to avoid your ribs, as he peppers kisses over your blackened shoulders.
"Just because your body does not reflect mine or Eijiro's does not mean you are weak. You are strong Y/N. Real fucking strong." He kisses you softly, capturing your lips tenderly as Kirishima kisses along your throat.
"Share this weight with us." Bakugou breathes out after pulling away.
"Its not weak to cry or ask for help baby." Kirishima whispers in your ear, your eyes look over your sturdy shoulder before they fall to their hands intertwined. You notice Bakugou's knuckles turning white. Had you really made them worry this much?
"Isn't that right Suki?" Eji asks, resting his chin in your shoulder. Katsuki looks at him for a long time, this man and you have helped him more than he would ever like to admit. But if this is what brought that natural magnetism about you that attracted him in the first place he'd say it 
Fuck, if it brought that blinding smile of yours back to your kissable lips he'd scream if from the fucking roof.
"Yes." He lets out a shaky sigh, "Now please, please let us help you little one."
Searching his eyes you wonder if there will ever be a time when you will stop feeling this way.
When you will stop feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders over little to nothing at all.
When you will stop feeling that black hole that crawled into your chest weighing you down and making you weightless all at once.
When you will stop the haunting feeling of sadness that lingers on the fringes of your every thought, tainting every memory and moment with its shimmering darkness.
You wonder if this cancer, if this demon that has since crawled into your chest and devoured your heart whole will ever die.
Scarlet eyes soften as they rove over your lovely features, strong arms support you from behind and you know what the answer is.
The answer is no.
It will never die, never cease to exist, never leave you alone. It will stay with you until you lie motionless forever and even then it will crawl into your casket cradling your cooling skin.
But you will not stop fighting.
Cannot stop fighting because of the small sliver of a feeling you have now.
The love that resiliently blooms despite the pressure, despite the darkness, despite it being trampled over and fucking over.
You know that these two men are not your worth nor or they your reason for being and even if, Kamisama forbid, you three broke up, you would fight on.
Tooth and nail keeping this demon under the ball of your steel toed boot.
Because in the end, after it is all said in done you will do anything to feel this.
This hope and love that radiates from within. You sigh out a shaky sigh, releasing the tension of your shoulders and the constant pressure you've kept on yourself since that mission, your shoulders sag from relief.
"Thank you, thank you for baring this with me." You squeeze their arms respectively as you speak to them both at once, "I love you."
They speak in unison their two tones melding together and soothing over your skin like an ointment.
"I love you too." 
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dennydraws · 4 years ago
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Good Morning! Hello Autumn!
It’s time for cozy sweaters, warm drinks, cold feet but warm hearts! :,D And it’s time for Denny to do another life update post! Feel free to skip or read ahead!
At least... the renovations in the bedroom are completed! It feels so unnatural to have like the whole apartment feel like a place you can inhabit X’D that sounds so bad saying it lol But now it’s a sunny room with a big soft bed and hopefully many wonderful dreams and moments!
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If you expected me to fill these drawers with clothes and such, you’re gravely mistaken and you don’t know me well. They are all full of sketchbooks and art supplies. >.>; and while moving them all I realized I need to do yet another declutter...
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And I got to fit a small corner for arting. Far cry from my previous set but I do try to simplify my workspace as in... not let it take over me. ^_^;;;
And if you want to look at how this room used to look, ahem well... x’D
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It used to be a storage room and I’m so, so happy I finally got around to get rid of all this junk and give this place a proper make over! Now the only thing left is to get a heater of some kind cause winters can get cold here! And then I’m done with this corner of the apartment :’D  Next year - the kitchen!!
Arting and Inktober
And that’s what I’ve been mostly up to this summer.  Now I’m focusing my energies on my comic and I’ll be using the inktober month to actually line art a page per day, or try to anyway! I’ve followed the controversy over Inktober and while I will refrain from commenting, as someone who always enjoyed inktober for the idea of it and following everyone who is participating, it just saddens me to have yet another thing I enjoy stained and it’s fans divided.
More arting!
I’ve been drawing a whole lot more but mostly DnD related things and I know majority of my followers are more interested in FF14 works ... so I’ve neglected posting here... :,D;; which now when I think of it, it’s kind of silly! Art is art! I keep looking at my tumblr blog as more fancy and less of a place to post sketches or quick works but, it’s still art, right? It counts! So... maybe I should post things here. 
And as I was typing this, my watercolor kit from mossery arrived, ahhh! So many goodies. +_+ It was a bit pricey but I’m all starry eyed once I opened it all!
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Now to proceed being too nervous about using the sketchbook and avoid it for two years cause it’s so pretty X’D
And that’s all! Mostly busy with irl things but hoping I’ll be more active here again. I got a week off work for my birthday and using the time to relax as best as I can given the world’s state and all the crazy going on.
Hugs and cookies to you dear reader who made it this far! :,D
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buns-with-a-book · 4 years ago
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Reflections and Illusions
For Day Six of DMCWeek2020, the prompts chosen this week were Family and Belonging! They’re subjects quite close to our leading lady Cassandra. Cordelia and Anastasia (and the idea for this fic) are all from @furyeclipse
Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: OC, Dante, Vergil, Nero (minor role), Kyrie (minor role), Credo (cameo) Tags: @nimnox​  @astral-space-dragon​ @harlot-of-oblivion​ @queenmuzz​ @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate
Summary: While on a mission, Cassandra hears her name and goes into a strange portal. What she finds is a world she dearly wants but cannot have.
“Jeez, all I wanted was a nice birthday-” Cassandra swiftly dodged out of the way of the demon’s attack. “And you come along to ruin it!” The demon, taking the form of a large black dog, snarled at her. “Come on, you terrible little doggie!” The demon dog let out a ferocious roar, leaping forward. She twirled out of the way, Failnaught impaling itself into the demon’s flank and ripping open a large wound. The demon hit the ground hard, turning into dust. Cassandra spun the sword-cane in her hand, sighing.
“Not how you wanted to spend your birthday?” Dante asked with a cocky grin.
“What gave you that impression?” She huffed. “This stuffy old mansion...jeez, it’s a terrible place for a birthday. Come on, let’s find Nero and Vergil and go get our pay. Maybe that local pizza place is still open at this hour-”
Cassandra…
A voice, strangely siren-like, called for her. She paused and looked around, visibly confused. She looked to Dante, who looked just as confused as she was.
“What’s the matter?”
“I...I just thought I heard someone calling for me.”
Cassandra...
Cassandra closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Maybe I should go take a look around. Just in case there’s something...you know, suspicious. You go find Vergil and Nero.” Dante nodded, silver eyes glancing around. Cassandra nodded at him before dashing off. The sound of the voice calling her was northward, she could feel it. As she dashed through the halls of the abandoned mansion, the call of her name seemed to become louder, a ringing in her head she couldn’t ignore.
Cassandra...
She dashed out the back door, looking around. The grounds were visibly overgrown from decades of neglect. Her eyes fell upon the greenhouse, windows broken and frosted from disuse. She walked over to the greenhouse, carefully opening the glass door. Planters had been thrown out, leaving nothing but a dirt floor. At the other end of the greenhouse, however, was what looked to be a mirror of some kind. It’s stone frame was covered with plants, both in motifs and actual plants. It’s reflective surface shone brilliantly, as if it was untouched by time. Cassandra slowly stepped forward, boots crushing glass and dirt underneath her. As her reflection appeared in the mirror, it seemed to...wobble? Her hand carefully rested on the glass…
And went right through it.
She yelped in surprise, pulling back her hand. She looked at her hand, noticing nothing wrong with it.
Cassandra…!
The voice was more insistent now, overwhelming her senses. Following the call, an intense ringing drowned out everything. She held her head, Failnaught clattering to the ground. The agony pounded at her skull, like a terrible awful migraine she only heard tales of from old women. She stumbled, her foot caught something, before her body fell onto the mirror’s reflective surface.
CASSANDRA!
She half-expected her body to hit the glass, piercing her skin and leaving a nasty cut. To her surprise, her body hit warm grass. She slowly opened her eyes, finding what had once been a gloomy overcast dusk was now a bright sunny day. She let out a pained groan, her head still throbbing.
“My little star!” A voice, a painfully familiar voice, made her eyes snap open. She looked up, seeing someone that should be dead staring back at her: her own mother, Stella Sagefire.
“Mother…?” She whimpered as she felt oddly cool hands help her on her feet. She looked past her, seeing Dante happily grilling like a dad (well he was an uncle, that was close enough). Nero and Kyrie were sitting at a table, happily chatting about something. Next to Nero was Cordelia, beaming at Nero like he was an older brother. Vergil was sitting next to Cordelia, but his eyes were firmly focused on Cassandra. Next to Kyrie was a man she only saw in pictures, her older brother Credo, relaxed and at ease. Her gaze returned to her mother, her hair tied up in a messy bun, strands of golden blond framing her face and clear blue eyes. It looked as if she had never been so deathly sick at all.
“Cassandra!” A second voice, another familiar voice that only made her heart ache as a more youthful woman that was near the same age as her mom stepped forward: Anastasia Faye. Her bright seafoam green eyes stared at Cassandra in worry. Her dark brown black hair went down to her mid-back. A lavender colored ribbon was tied in her hair, similar to how Cordelia put bows in her hair, but her bow was on the left side of her head compared to Cordelia keeping it centered on her head. She wore a rose gold trimmed strapless black dress that went down to her knees and brown boots to match. A necklace around her neck like V's old choker but, instead of a tooth, it was a small charm from outside the walls. She never did find out where she got it from.
“It’s your birthday, Cassandra.” Stella gently explained. “Do you not want to attend your own birthday party?”
“I...I mean...I…” Cassandra lowered her head. Something was wrong, she could feel it in her core.
"Cass sweetie, you getting overwhelmed again? You tripped over your own two feet again." Anastasia chuckled softly as she ruffled her hair. "Hmm no bumps, you're fine."
“I don’t feel fine.” She muttered. What was it that was so wrong about it? She missed her mothers so dearly, she had loved them so, but they were dead. They couldn’t be here, not in this mirror world.
You could just stay here with your mothers, in this perfect world.
That nagging feeling prodded at her, almost tugged on her insistently in her mind. She could stay, with ghosts and echoes all around her.
"You alright there, Sleeping Beauty?" Anastasia asked. She could hear the concern in her voice.
“No, this is all wrong.” She pulled away. Already, the world was starting to fade around them, mixing together like a bad watercolor painting. Despite that, Stella and Anastasia remained clear and pristine in her vision. “You’re dead. You two, you died, you can’t be here!” She didn’t stop the tears from falling down her face, she couldn’t.
Anastasia sighed softly and put a firm hand on her shoulder. "Cassandra, look up at me please." Cassandra let out a soft heaving noise, slowly looking up at Anastasia.
"I made Anastasia bend the rules a bit, again.” Stella admitted sheepishly. “I know that I promised last time I wouldn't but this time, I needed to do it for an important reason: so that your mother and I can see you free and happy, far from Eternis Brillia, happy with the azure Son of Sparda and free from that sorry excuse of a boy Draco. I'm also guessing you found Cordelia as well."  
"I'm happy that my Magpie found her way home to you." Anastasia added. “And you’ve found your self confidence again. Make sure that the azure boy knows how much you love him and how happy you are being at his side.”
"I got to finally see you again Cassandra. I'm proud that you've grown up into a confident lady."
Anastasia pulled Stella and Cassandra into a tight warm hug, kissing her head softly. “Happy Birthday Cassandra, please ever don't forget how much we love you. Before I forget, please tell my little magpie, you got her gift.”
“Her gift?” Cassandra asked tearfully. The world around them was nothing but darkness, with only her two mothers still clearly before her. Anastasia kissed the top of her head and smiled softly. Cassandra swore she felt something at her neck, arms hugging her close. “Mom...Mother...tell me, what do you mean?”
“A happy family. People who love her dearly, no matter what.” Anastasia murmured. “And it was something we wanted for you as well.”
“Cassandra, my little star, you cannot stay here.” Stella said, her voice grim. “You have to return back to the azure son, to your family, to our little magpie.” Her and Anastasia’s hand rubbed away the tears that streaked down her face. “Because we weren't strong enough to live, but you are.”
“Mom, Mother, don’t go-” Cassandra suddenly heard the sound of glass shatter before she fell backward, away from the rapidly disappearing images of her mothers. Faintly, she saw her tears fly into the dark abyss...or were they hers?
We will always love you.
She expected to hit the floor, for her arms to be cut by shattered shards of mirrors, but strong arms, Vergil’s arms, caught her and held her up. She blinked, watching as Nero and Dante stared at the remains of the mirror, weapons aloft. The mirror was now just stone and glass on the floor. Nero rushed to her side.
“Mom, are you ok?” Nero asked worriedly. Cassandra nodded, letting Vergil help her onto her feet. “What was that?”
“...a trap. It’s an illusion mirror, from Eternis Brillia. I suppose the last owner was an adherent of the Earthfaith.” Cassandra breathlessly explained. “It was still effective...I…”
“You what?”
“...I saw my mothers.” She said, trying not to cry. She had enough of that for a while, at least. Her gaze rested on the broken mirror. “It wasn’t real. They’re dead. They died years ago.” She took a deep breath, feeling Dante rub his hand against her shoulder. “That’s what the mirror does: it lures you in with what you want the most and traps you in it’s illusions.” A quiet fell between them, all eyes on the broken trap at their feet.
“Hey…” Dante broke the quiet, trying to sound easy-going, as if nothing had happened short of a job well done. “How about we get a pizza?”
“A pizza, Dante!?” Vergil growled. “That’s the last-”
“No no no, I...I’d like something stupidly greasy right now to take my mind off things.” Cassandra looked up to the trio. Dante beamed at the sound of Cassandra taking his side of things. Vergil scowled at the decision before seeming to relent. Cassandra took one last glance to the broken mirror, the damp air silent. It couldn’t be real...right?
And yet, as her hand reached up to realize that a new Rhodonite necklace now hung around her neck, she suddenly wasn’t sure if everything in the broken mirror was illusionary.
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historytaker · 4 years ago
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Fly Away Vincent
Sometimes art tells us something the artist is unsure they mean to say. But that had always been one of the tragedies of Vincent Van Gogh’s dramas. His paintings were earthy, mucky blends: sermons and pleas to find something. Yet, it was precisely at the penultimate moment in Vincent Van Gogh’s career did he finally give us a farewell that probably was not supposed to be a farewell. For it would be the Spring of 1890 that Vincent Van Gogh would produce Wheatfield With Crows, and shortly after kill himself. Ever the composer and the symphony, Van Gogh mashed opposites in his paintings in greedy jabs of oil, demanding us to take it in and meanwhile being the servant to his impulses that played out in the work.  He struck the balance in Wheatfield with Crows.  But in that balance he put a punctuation on his mastery, his gifts, his sermon.  Could Heaven and Earth meet? Maybe.  Wheatfield with Crows say exactly that.
               Vincent Van Gogh was not well. He suffered bouts of manic activity often followed by deep spells of self-loathing and loneliness. He was also epileptic. He had a cunning self awareness though that often meant that his suffering was the expiation or price to be paid for being one of God’s children. Never far away from his religious zeal, burned a patriotic self-indulgence of love for the common man and the earthy struggle.  Smothered in much of his works are these influences; his mental health, searching for God, and political thought.
               Van Gogh thought it only right and proper to take his sermon to the people who deserved God the most, and equally needed God the most. The tramp, the whore, the beggar, the drunkard, the miscreant all God’s people… they just did not know it yet. Often this meant a life of even more privation than the would-be parishioners of the Church of Saint Vincent. He cobbled together a pittance in trading drawings for crumbs. His real lifeline was his beloved brother Theo, however.  
               In fact, it would be this relationship with his brother that would ultimately sustain Van Gogh’s life. Theo, always the true believer, would attempt to sell or promote the works Van Gogh produced. Sometimes, indeed, most times, the work was not appreciated. In his early years, Van Gogh was enraptured by the aplomb but simple landscapes and toiling work of the indescribable laborer, the everyman. Where Van Gogh’s contemporaries patronized the subject as rustic, Van Gogh blended his subjects mercilessly with the mud. They were the mud. No better picture did this radiate more totally than with Potato Eaters.  The brown grey effluviates all over the canvas. The people surrounding the table, gaunt, strung-out, wide eyed, are communing over ashen potatoes and earthily mud brown coffee. They have the emaciated look of the overworked, underfed, neglected. But pulling in the room, keeping everything together, granting all of these diners the chance to partake in their concord is the singular illumination of a flame hung sturdily overhead by lamp.
                                                       In a rare moment for early Van Gogh, he knows he created something worth feeling accomplished by. How incredibly sad it must have been, when Theo maintained that the picture did none of the things the sort of people who bought art wanted it to do. It was ghastly after all. No matter.
               Van Gogh kept at it and would build on this work. And like lightening, we begin to see sunburst almost literally in his landscapes. The thing about Van Gogh was, he became a deeply ardent lover of Japanese landscape art; Where if people are involved at all in the scenes, they exist in the most miniscule of parts. Tiny homes, tiny boats. Infinitesimally minute, casually present human touches in the landscape hammered home the humbling truth that we are not separate from nature, but nature. In that, Van Gogh attempted to bring down Heaven into Earth. “Don’t you see,�� we can hear him say, “God is here.”
               That was the hope anyhow. Van Gogh was notoriously nomadic. The lightening rod of Christ was somehow present and elusive for the artist. He was always searching for this emotionally true feeling. In moments he bathed in it, and in others he was absolutely bereft of the spiritual elixir. So it was that when he painted, he searched. Along the way, the full gamut of the human experience, he tells to us in his work. Everything, we learn quickly, Van Gogh experiences is intense. We all know the type. He was noted for shaking peoples hands heartily. He verbally reprimanded himself for aging himself 10 years early because of the intensity of his smiles and frowns. His face wore the marks of raw emotions. He had deltas in his face for tears, mountains of peaked flesh across gaunt cheeks when he donned a smile. Buried beneath was a brilliant sun burnt red beard.
               It would be no surprise to our sensibilities then, that when Van Gogh took off and painted, and really got into it, the experience was flooded with emotions and personal euphoria. Perhaps no painting wraps more completely the need Van Gogh had for pairing opposites, companionship, God on earth…a taradise if you will, and somehow innocently enough, sexual explosion all at once than Sower At Sunset. The hallmark of Van Gogh that the background is the picture more than the subject is takes place. The Sun, the singular entity wholly prominent shoots strings of brilliant light at us. Gobs of purple, golden browns, stream everywhere. Our farmer vanishes in the fully loaded paint thrust Vincent elects to give. We are positively covered in the essence of the seeds being planted. Don’t take my words for it, Van Gogh refers to his paintings as a sort-of orgasm, jouissance. His ecstasy is permeating in the picture.
               By this point, Van Gogh was finding himself. He was no aesthete, but he was finding his expression. And for all the tears, bouts of madness, brilliance, personal victories he is remembered for two things even the most minimal observer can tell you, Starry Night and he cut off his ear.
Starry Night is the return of the darker blues. While he was ward of the hospital he stayed at, he paints Starry Night. Giving us the timeless scene. It is perhaps the most prolific of his works and deserves all the credit it receives. We are moved as it moves. We feel the solitude and purity of the moment the painting gives. But for my money Starry Night does none of the things Van Gogh needed for himself quite like Wheatfield with Crows Does.
               For in Wheatfield with Crows, we have climax. Vincent had always been nomadic, looking for a path that had a clear direction, he gives us a path but stopped trying to say where it went and from where it came. There is no redeeming work to be done by a casual artisan working the field. Those nightscape blues tell us a storm is coming or just went. Our crows are minimal strokes – afterthoughts—flying away or landing. Those brilliant bursts of yellow weren’t sources of vitality emanating from a giving Sun, but there is life in there yet. Grassy paths yawn with earthy mud. He is at peace. It is a troubled mind realizing itself. “The zenith of the Sun is in you,” we get the feeling he is saying,  “no need for looking for it in the painting, get the picture?”
                               Not long after this is done, Van Gogh shoots himself. He was finally being seen by his contemporaries as the visionary. His sermons were reaching eyes and not ears, finally. What the parishioners of Saint Vincent needed, Van Gogh at last found for himself. And then, when for a change, he was ready to be the lifeline of the family’s needs, he withdrew himself from the picture. And for my sensibilities, I would say it was the greatest of all his works. It mirrors the best that Turner made us do with his watercolors; he gives us the final stroke of the brush and tells us to decide what we are seeing. What do we need from this? Is it salvation? Is it acceptance? Is the point of life the living of it, or does the path actually go somewhere? Its existential without meaning to be. It’s a gospel without fantastical happenings. It is our comings and our goings. It is everything and it is nothing. Heaven meets earth, finally.
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throughthewwods · 4 years ago
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100 Days of Productivity
34 Days
📚 wrote my Meyer's Minority Stress Model as Sheldon Cohen’s Stress and Illness Modelthrough a biopsychosocial perspective
(say that three times fast)
✍️ gave Kiddo some tips on adding perspective to her realism watercolor
🌙 Took pain medicine and went to bed early so today would be more productive
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————-
Woke up still in dull pain yesterday understanding the fish who doesn’t much notice their water. It wasn’t until late afternoon I realized my bubbling was my shoulder shooting morse code into my face.  it’s a quirky coincidence that this pain flared after the ever emotional laboriousness of talking to my mother, which touched upon fun topics like, “I’m tired of you people griping to me about how the safety meassures for {the-thing-that-could-kill-me-or paralyze-me-make-me-go-completely-blind-, orphan-my-daughter, has-ripped-my-self-sufficiency away-and-trapped-me, us-inside-my-ghetto-apartment-for-the-foreseeable-future)’ inconveniences you with mild discomforts.. how even after this is over it’ll be one more {selfish-awful-parents-who-care-about-abcd-more-than-their-own-daughter] thing I have to push from my awareness if I want to keep a relationship with you people”.
I do not bother to point out that same maternal deficiency is why I have my disease in the first place. Ripples, man.. For two decades I have been doing everything in my power to free myself of my parents dysfunctional choices yet the undertow finds me.. I won’t surrender to the pull, but this ever swimming up stream sure gets daunting.
The conversation mostly ends with her displacing her guilt by offering me an out we both know she can’t give and in reality would be even worse for me than my present predicament. She doesn’t trouble herself with that though. She is lonely and I am the neglected pet that escaped. By declining her bait my struggles become entirely a life I have inexplicably chosen and she is cleansed. It is a dance we do where she pretends to be a good mother if only I’d come back ‘home’ and I get to be the ungrateful, stubborn, self destructive daughter who deserves what she gets for leaving.
sometimes I decline graciously. Sometimes I decline enraged at the entrapment preying on my injured state thinly veiled as love.
Sometimes I decline depleted. This was one of those occasions.
I sigh, “ we’ve been over this so many times. How would that help? You already know it wouldn’t. Why do you put this on me over and over like that’s even an option?”
She says sheepishly, “ I know, it’s that I miss you and it makes me feel better to say it then you explain everything to me and I stop”
I sigh, “ But you don’t stop. It’s been 10+ years. it’s nice that it makes you feel better to offer, but how many years before you stop putting me in the position where I’m forced to be the bigger person for you? “
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Unsurprisingly, that little chat sucked the vitality out of me the day. I should have hit ‘ignore’. i’m shocked I mustered the motivation to write up my discussion response. Signs of growth maybe? The irony of writing from my stupor on how stress negatively affects health did not allude me.
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Mid heated phone call my daughter brought me a heart they made in class with ‘Numver 1 Mom” written on it. It sits among the gemstones on my nightstand. She likes to make little, origami foxes. I think someday when she is older I will miss finding them everywhere.
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serpent-craft · 5 years ago
Text
Secrets
 A ribbon of smoke wound its way through the holes of an antique Quel’dorei incense burner. Sandalwood and citrus cleansed the old house of its musty smell that lingered from years of neglect. A month in, and the process of refurbishing the Goldenheart estate was slowly coming together like pieces of a puzzle; riddled with memories of sordid and pleasant experiences coiled into one. Rhythmic music filled the small gaps of silence that the pair of Sin’dorei had between them as they continued to bring the house back to life . It wasn’t an artist that the two recognized, but the record player proved to be an interesting find at the festival in the Jade Forest.
Aendonys reclined into a pile of ornate pillows and blankets, more goods acquired from the markets to serve as a makeshift bed. He caught a few last rays of sun before it fell below the horizon, reflecting off the polished tiles on the balcony. It was a domestic deed he did himself, taking a cloth and solvent to the grime until the surfaces felt smooth to the touch. The demon hunter was quite proud of himself for this, and for that he decided to take a break while Micael finished unboxing the decorations and momentos.
“Hm...retiring early?” A golden light neared close, speaking in a baritone voice. The details of Micael’s face were visible in the demon hunter’s vision, like a sketch or a watercolor painting that grew in detail the more he focused. He was a broad shouldered, muscular framed Sin’dorei with soft androgynous facial features that suited him well. Even compared to Aendonys, Micael easily showed far more physical strength. “Well, I suppose you did a decent job.”
“I did a damn good job.” Aendonys quipped, running his claws over the pristine grout and tile. The paladin gave a throaty laugh, the light in his chest grew like a tiny sun.
“You did well above my expectations, Aendonys.”
The two exchanged prideful smirks, intertwining fingers as the hanging crystals projected dancing lights from the sunset. In the distance the spires of Silvermoon created a black backdrop against the purple and orange sky. It was a welcome sight as the world withdrew into an hour of peace. For however long it would last--one could not discern, but for this moment the defeat of an old god and the pause of war could serve as a brief respite. It was a good time for them to settle into a relaxed life, or at least make a nest to come back to when they were off on another adventure.
The paladin’s hand gently slipped away as Aendonys heard the clatter of Micael’s armor being slipped off the manikin. A subtle expression of concern was painted upon the demon hunter’s face, he reached over to remove the needle from the record.
“I’ll get my glaives.”
Micael cut him off before the other sat up. Placing a metal hand firmly upon Aendony’s shoulder. He was becoming accustomed to the prosthetic.
“I am just preparing for the night watch. I’d rather you stay here to keep the place guarded.” There was a sense of assurance in the tone of his voice, a stubborn self-reliance that Aendonys grew fond of in this man. He huffed in a mildly annoyed retort, sticking his tongue out far enough that the gold piercing glinted in the light.
“Suit yourself, Goldilocks.”
-------
The galloping hooves of holy knights took off into the night, clearing whatever undead still lurked in Tranquillien. To this day, the Ghostlands still remain a threat, but the undead have thinned out in numbers. The borders of Eversong grew as patches of verdant grass returned, and the wildlife no longer feared the remnants of the Dead Scar. Perhaps one day it would only serve as a memory and nothing more. The Goldenheart estate was a starting point, at least.
Aendonys drifted into a brief sleep--a couple hour nap that the night owl had before midnight. He had yet to light the sconces as the burning embers of incense glowed inside copper chambers. He wouldn’t need light to see anyways, but it was courteous to Micael for when he came home. They still had so much unbuilt furniture and decor strewn about the room like booby traps in the dark--and speaking of, Aendonys’ ears twitched at the sound of footsteps in the house. A hard clacking like that of an armored foot...was he back already? The demon hunter blinked sleepily, a pair of violet glowing eyes piercing the darkness.
“Micael? Is that yo-”
A hand clasped over the demon hunter’s mouth, claws digging into his skin as slender fingers wrapped around his neck. He failed to react in time as a paralysis took over his body.
“Hmm. just like old times, Aendy.” The sinister voice of a woman filled his mind. It was harrowingly familiar. He saw her silhouette clear as day, the curvaceous demoness with her upright horns and outstretched wings that seemingly dripped with shadow magic.
“I’d bite you if you weren’t into that, Bryketh.” He snapped a muffled reply. The succubus removed the hand over his mouth to dig her stiletto claws into Aendony’s shoulder as she straddled him.
“Oh, we know each other so...so well.” She hummed. “It’s sad to see you so...hm--domesticated. That’s what paladin’s do after all, they take our gifts from the void and stomp on them with their big, obnoxiously shiny boots.”
Aendonys sneered, struggling against her magic to reach for the dagger he buried into his pillow. The hilt brushed against his fingertips.
“Heh…maybe I’m into that. Not like you’d know since you're a heartless bitch.” He paid the price for that quip, feeling her claws dig through his demonic skin. Blood was certainly being drawn, but her spell was slipping.
“Did you tell him what you did to me, Aendonys? How you made me love you for your own gain?” She whispered in an aggressive trill. “Does he know what kind of treachery you are capable of--my dearest demon-hearted bastard?”
He reached for the blade, he fingers wrapped around the hilt. He waited for Bryketh to slip up enough that he would slit her throat--but suddenly he felt a pressure on his hand. The succubus disappeared in a plume of smoke as Aendony’s eyes snapped open with a burst of violet flames.
“It’s just me.” The voice was similar to Micael’s but in a monotone drone. Aendonys saw a man with outstretched feathered wings and long stark white hair. His foot was over the dagger that he reached for. Red curtains ominously flowed over the open balcony that he entered through as a cool breeze entered the room.
“Gabe?” The leaves outside rustled as the twin brother’s wing’s disintegrated from sight revealing the full moon behind him. He could feel the gaze of the other’s spectral sight piercing him. Gabriel was best described as an icy dagger compared to Micael’s warmth. 
“I wanted to see if it was true. That you and my brother are going to live here now.”
Aendonys was quiet for a moment. He still hadn’t recovered from that nightmare, but this was certainly reality now. He ran a hand across his shoulder as if expecting to feel blood there, but it was dry.
“Yeah. We’re going to at least try.”
It wasn’t uncommon for a moment of silence to linger between them. Aendonys knew Gabriel far longer than he had known Micael. They both witnessed each other’s sacrifices and betrayals as Illidari, in a way he always saw him as a brother like Asmodan. A cold and distant--soon to be step-brother--who cared far more than he ever wanted anyone to see. Even his spectral vision worked differently than others. He would see the emotions Aendonys was feeling like they were painted on his face in clear view. The discomfort and fear he always masked.
“He proposed the idea, didn’t he?” Gabriel spoke.
Aendonys smiled a bit more genuinely than he usually did. “He did. It’s because we are getting marr--”
“I know.”
Gabriel strode over to the closest sconce on the wall and lit it, illuminating the two in a arcand light. He sensed where each one was by memory. This was once his home too.
“Goldilocks can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?” Aendonys kicked the covers off and rolled onto a cross-legged sit. He chuckled a bit at that before his smile faded, watching the white-haired man select and open a book from a nearby shelf. It wasn’t as if he could read it but the texture of the pages was pleasing, perhaps. This suddenly didn’t feel right. “So...which one of these rooms was yours?”
The white haired illidari pointed to the ground where Aendonys was sleeping.
“This one.”
Aendonys pursed his lips awkwardly. Straightening up a pillow like it didn’t even belong to him now. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was acting like this. “Oh, I see. Well it’s now your guest room for whenever you stay here. Unless you wanna move in with us.”
“I don’t.” He replied in an eerily calm manner. Shutting the book he inspected.
Aendonys sighed and adjusted his posture having nothing to say to that. He might have understood why Micael didn’t speak with his brother about this, but it wasn’t done so out of ill will.
Gabriel wandered into the other rooms for a moment, reminiscing quietly as he somberly lit the hallway for Micael’s return. Aendonys quietly followed after as if expecting the brother to speak about his past here like Micael did. He did not.
“Have you told him about Bryketh?” Gabriel suddenly questioned. Aendonys slapped a hand over his face in a disgruntled display.
“For fels sake, Gabe. Not you too.”
The white haired Sin’dorei suddenly snapped his gaze towards the other interrogatively.
Aendony’s waved his hands dismissively with a sigh. “--nevermind that. No. I have not. Why should I? I wouldn’t ever treat Mike like that anyways so it doesn’t matter. I know I’ve done some people dirty in the past to survive, but I’m especially not going to sit in a confessional booth over betraying a demon.”
Gabriel turned himself to face Aendonys. His bangs fell over the wraps that covered his eyes but a dim white glow shone through. “I told him my secret. Now you tell Micael yours. It doesn’t matter that you wouldn’t do the same to him. He should still know for your sake.”
Aendonys scratched at the stubble that began to grow in on the sides of his scalp. He would ask Micael to shave it for him soon, maybe that would be a good time to talk about his both figurative and literal demon. It wouldn’t be like his fiance would turn the blade on him in that moment...or at least he hoped not. Gabriel did have a point however, keeping this from Micael would only give whatever was left of Bryketh ammunition to torment him. It took him a while to fully admit that, but somehow Gabriel’s bluntness was something he needed at this moment.
“Alright. Bet.” He replied. “...but also I wanted to say that we didn't a day for the ceremony yet. When we do though, you should come. Micael really wants to see more of you, ya know?”
Another moment of silence lingered between them. Gabriel didn’t answer that as the sound of hooves thundered close. He instead walked back to the balcony and rematerialized feathers. The moment another cool breeze passed by, the estranged brother beat his wings. Ribbons of smoke danced and the parchment rattled as he took off like a shadow in the night. Aendonys didn’t even bother to offer a farewell, he knew Gabriel well enough.
The front door opened as Aendonys spied Micael’s golden light. The paladin’s helm gently clinked onto the floor as he sauntered in; the image of pomp and glory himself had arrived with his job done.
“Oho, you’re certainly feeling better lately.” The demon hunter leaned against the hallway with a sultry grin.
“.--and you’re awake early for your late evening nap. A shame...I wanted to surprise you.” Micael passed by Aendonys, swiping his armored fingertips across his chest. He hung his sword upon the wall.
“Yeah, well maybe I couldn’t wait for you to get back?” Aendonys followed after as the paladin unfastened his armor piece by piece.
“Hoh? Do you care about me that much? How endearing.” For a man who wielded holy power Miceal sported a devilish grin. The other Sin’dorei took a seat next to him, he couldn’t witness his partner undressing with his lack of eyesight but he could hear the armor falling unceremoniously to the floor. The spring air brought another brisk breeze through the room as Aendonys ruminated on the dream and Gabriel showing up. He could sense Miceal’s attention being drawn to the corner of the room with the bookshelf. The curtains swaying as they did earlier.
“Aendonys, one of the books is gone from the shelf. The one Gabriel always liked to read.”
The demon hunter turned towards the paladin, he took in a deep breath.
“Micael. I have something to tell you.”
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wantstoflyafraidtofall · 4 years ago
Link
CHAPTER 6 IS UP! 
Sorry it took so long! With whats going on with school starting I’ve been distracted and busy. I’m going to try my best to find time to write and get more chapters for y'all!
~~~
Read on Ao3
(Chapter bellow the cut)
“After mom died, dad changed. When I told you about all the fun times I had with him, I wasn’t lying. He was a great dad until her death. But after… not so much. He had good days but those were few and far between,” Dean took a deep breath, “The only reason I stayed is because I couldn't leave Sam with him and wouldn't have been able to take him with me. If I called child services we would be separated and I needed to protect him.”
Dean looked back up to Cas and saw his sad, questioning eyes.
“It’s ok, Dean. Take all the time you need.” Cas repeated.
Dean sat for a second before continuing, “I kept Sam out of the worst of it. He hardly remembers anything that happened. I learned Dads warning signs and would try to get Sammy out of the room and distracted before anything happens.”
A look of understanding followed by anger and sadness washed across Cas’s face. “Did he… hurt you?”
Dean drew in a shaky breath and nodded. “I could never be the son he wanted. I was always a disappointment to him. I still am. All he wanted was a strong son who would get married to a beautiful woman and give him some grand kids. And I… I couldn’t even do that.”
“Dean, that's ok.”
“No, Cas, it's not. What kind of son can't even give his father his dying wish? What kind of son is so broken that he couldn't protect his own brother?”
Cas opened his mouth to reply but Dean held up a hand to stop him.
“It started when I was 13,” Dean rubbed his wrists. “, He was so disgusted and revolted by me. He broke my arm one night and wouldn't drive me to the hospital because he refused to let someone like me in his car. I had to walk. Once that cast was off, it began.
I managed to hide them from Sam but one night, dad saw them. He looked even more disgusted that I was so weak. Sam says that it's only proof of how strong I am to be able to be here today, walking and talking. Dad had different opinions on that. He believed that it was a sign of weakness and that you can only get stronger by getting used to pain.”
Cas had scooted closer to Dean. He had tears in his eyes and Dean guessed he was going to start crying soon if he continued but he needed to tell Cas what happened.
“The first time dad caught me with… a guy… was about a year after that,” Dean struggled to get the sentence out. “He threatened the other guy then beat me to the point I couldn't walk for the next week without a limp. That wasn't even the worst of it.”
Tears had begun flowing down Deans cheeks and gathering at his chin. Cas’s cheeks were also wet with tears but unlike Dean, his eyes held a spark of rage behind the sorrow.
Dean stopped talking. He looked at Cas’s face and into those stunning blue eyes. As they sat, Cas’s face changed from a look of anger to a sad sort of admiration. Why he looked so awed by the puny mess of a man he is, Dean didn't understand.
Cas brought his hand to Deans face, cupping his cheek and used his thumb to wipe away a tear. He pulled Dean into a tight hug, rubbing gentle circles on his back and quietly shedding his own fair share of tears.
Dean collapsed into the embrace, letting the walls down and he began to sob into Cas’s shirt. He wrapped his arms around Cas and grabbed his shoulders, clinging to him with an almost bruising amount of strength.
“That's it, Dean,” Cas whispered. “Let it out. It's ok. I've got you.”
Cas continued to whisper words of comfort to Dean until he couldn't cry anymore. He just sat there, breathing in large shuddering breaths and trembling with each exhale. Dean began to relax, letting his grip on Cas loosen and he leaned further into his housemates body.
“Thank you for talking to me, Dean.” Cas spoke softly, “I can’t imagine what you went through. You’re so strong to have lived through all that and still be here today. So brave to have stayed and protected your brother. You’re a hardworking, kind man who is a survivor and one of the best big brothers I have ever seen.”
Dean leaned off Cas’s shoulders but still kept his arms around him. He looked into Cas’s gentle eyes. They were a bright, clear blue, even in the dim light of the room. Cas was looking at Dean with awe and pity. He looked proud, despite the redness around his eyes and the wet streaks on his cheeks.
“You… Do- Do you really mean that?” Dean whispered in surprise.
He had expected Cas to leave or to tell him to get help and stay away from him. He thought that once Cas had figured out how broken and weak Dean really was that he would stop being friends with him.
But instead he was in awe of Dean. He held sympathy in his expression and hugged Dean. He let Dean cry into his shoulder and even shed tears of his own.
“Of course,” Cas smiled, “why wouldn't I?”
Dean stared at Cas. He looked deep into those lightning blue eyes. He wants Cas. Kind, handsome, oblivious, Cas. Dean could get lost in his eyes, his voice, his warm touch.
But Dean can’t. Cas deserves better. Someone who is less broken and can give him back as much as Cas gives. Someone better than Dean could ever be.
“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Dean asks.
Cas’s smile grows and nods his head slightly, “Sure, you can pick.”
Dean slowly pulls away from Cas’s arms and walks over to the stand under the TV. He opens a drawer and skims over all the different DVDs. He decides on Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark, and puts the disk in the player before settling back down on the couch with Cas.
“I don’t think I’ve seen this movie before.” Cas says curiously.
“What! Dude, its fucking Indiana Jones! How have you never seen it before!” Dean gasps.
“Well, I never got to see many movies because my parents disapproved of them. They were both pretty religious, hence the angelic names of me and my siblings.”
“Well now we gotta watch all the good movies before you find your own apartment! I CAN NOT let you live the rest of your life without seeing these!” Dean’s heart sank a bit at the thought of Cas leaving but he shoved the feeling down and started the movie.
The movie started and Cas began watching intently, enthralled by Dr. Jones and his adventure. As the movie went on, Dean began to grow tired. He was leaning against Cas’s shoulder and paying way more attention to that then the movie.
Dean’s eye lids grew heavy and his head fell onto Cas’s shoulder. Cas shifted his arm to make it a bit more comfortable for Dean, reaching around him to pull the blanket higher around his shoulders.
Dean fell into a restful sleep, tucked into Cas’s side. Maybe things will get better.
~~~
For the third time now, Dean woke up warm and happy. His body ached due to the awkward position they fell asleep in on the couch last night, but he was still happy.
When Dean yawned, he felt Cas begin to stir beneath him so he leaned up off Cas’s shoulder so he could stretch out.
The house was still an eerie quiet. He would ask Cas about opening up the windows later, but first, coffee.
Dean stood off the couch with a groan, his back popping. He made his way to the kitchen, his feet dragging slightly on the floor as he walked.
After turning on the coffee machine, Dean got out a box of pancake mix, bacon, and a few eggs before getting to work. He found a box of blueberries in the fridge, popping one in his mouth before sprinkling a few onto the pancake sizzling on the skillet.
The scent of coffee bought a ruffled Cas trudging into the kitchen. He grabbed a mug for himself and one for Dean, filling them both with coffee but adding sugar and creamer to his own before taking a long sip.
Cas settled in one of the chairs across the island, taking drinks from his mug every once in a while as he watched Dean cook.
“Where did you get all the furniture for the house?” Cas asked in a gruff(more so than usual) voice.
“I found a shit ton of it in the basement. There are still a few chairs and tables down there but I haven't got to cleaning it out yet.” Dean said before flipping another pancake.
“I haven't seen the basement yet, we should check it out later.”
“Dude, what have you seen?” Dean laughed
Cas looked up at him with a confused look before finally understanding, “I have seen enough cooking shows to know that that is going to burn if you leave it there any longer.” He said,  accusingly pointing at the pancake Dean was neglecting.
Dean laughed and flipped the cake, it was a bit brown but would still taste fine. Once he plated up the food, Dean handed a plate to Cas and took the seat next to him at the island.
Dean took time eating his breakfast. He wanted to spend time with Cas, and each time he finishes one thing he's doing with him, it opens a chance for Cas to leave. If Dean could stop time, he would. He would stop it in this moment so he could savor it for years.
The morning sun shone through the windows and he was warm and his belly was full of good food. He was sitting beside a person who makes Dean feel happy and forget about his pain for a while.
Stopping time would keep Cas there. Dean would figure out his feelings and Cas would be there to help him the whole time. He wouldn't be alone again.
But Dean is like salt on watercolor. Cas would eventually grow sick of him and if not, he would move to his own apartment somewhere else and find someone else who is better than Dean could ever be.
“Dean, are you all right?” Cas placed his hand gently on Dean’s shoulder.
“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just a bit spaced out.” Dean lifted his head from where he was staring at the counter and smiled at Cas.
“Thank you for breakfast. I’m going to go and shower if that’s all right.”
“No problem, buddy. I’ll clean up the kitchen and take a shower myself I guess.”
Cas smiled a bright, wide smile before shuffling out of the kitchen. Dean could hear his gentle footfalls as he walked up the stairs. Dean grabbed Cas’s plate and stacked it on his own before carrying it over to the sink.
He began to rinse the plates, loading them into the dishwasher when a cold chill crept up his spine. Dean spun around, fully expecting to see the shadow creature lurking behind him, but the room was empty and temperature completely normal.
Dean turned back to the sink and quickly finished doing the dishes. He wiped the counters and put away the leftover food before heading out of the room.
He began walking up the stairs, using the railing to help his bad knee. He reached the first landing where the stairs split when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Dean turned and almost swore we saw the creature slipping around the back of the stairs but decided it would be best to ignore.
When he finally made it into the shower, he welcomed the rush of warm water on his skin. He took his time washing the shampoo out of his hair and watching the bubbles slide down his body and into the drain. He steps out of the shower and grabs a towel from the rack and dries off.
Dean wrapped the towel around his waist and went to the closet to get a fresh pair of clothes. Once dressed he picked up the towel he discarded on the floor and went to hang it back up in the bathroom but stopped in his tracks when he saw the reflection of the shadow looming over his shoulder in the mirror.
He spun around but was surprised to see nothing there. He turned back around to the mirror but it was only his face looking back. He released a shaky breath and hung up the towel.
He needs to get out of the house for a bit. Dean made his way downstairs and put on his boots before grabbing his keys off the table by the door. He grabbed the door handle and was about to pull it open when he heard Cas call his name.
“Hello, Dean. Where are you going?” Cas asked from the library.
“Just going for a ride,” Dean paused for a moment, “Wanna come with?”
A bright smile lit up Cas’s face that made Dean feel all happy and warm inside and he nodded his head.
Cas stood and put on his own shoes, following Dean out of the door and closing it behind him. They walk to Dean’s car and get inside.
Dean settles into his seat and buckles his seat belt and looks over to Cas who was still buckling in. He could smell the warm honey scent of Cas’s body wash with subtle tones of something that could only be described as ‘Cas’.
Cas looked up and met Dean’s gaze, a small smile spread across his face. Dean gave a big grin of his own and started up Baby. She rumbles to life and Dean feels relaxed surrounded by the sweet smell of Cas and the soft purr of the impala.
He pulls out of the drive and onto the long rolling street. “Wouldn't It Be Nice” by The Beach Boys was playing quietly from the impala’s speakers, a feeling of bliss floated through the air. It was in the breeze that brushed against Dean’s face and rustled Cas’s dark hair as they drove over the gentle hills.
Cas let his arm dangle out the window, his hand riding the wind. He looked so peaceful leaned up against the door, a soft smile on his lips and his lightning blue eyes sparkling with life as he gazed out the window.
Thank god they were on a back road with not many cars because Dean only had his eyes on the road 50% of the time he was driving. He reluctantly pulled most of his attention to the road once they reached town.
They drive past the array of small local shops and a few chain stores.
“Dean! We should go get some fish for the pond!” Cas exclaims and points out the window at a small pet store sitting between the hardware store and TF store.
How did Dean miss that when he went to get the stuff for the pond from that little hardware store?
He pulled Baby into the small lot and parked right in front of the little pet shop. As soon as the car was in park, Cas was out of the door and waiting excitedly for Dean to follow.
A small bell rang above the door as they entered the shop.  A tall man with long gray hair and a short beard walked out of a back room and stood behind the register.
“Hello, my name's Cain. How can I help you today?” The man asked
“Hi, I’m Dean and this is my friend Castiel. We just fixed up an old fish pond in the back of our house and were looking for some fish for it.” Dean replied.
“Outdoor fish are in the tank in the back corner. By the empty tanks” Cain said, gesturing towards the back of the store.
Cas thanked the man and made his way back to the large tanks of koi and goldfish. He walked right up to the glass and watched the fish with the intensity of a child. It was cute.
Dean walks up behind Cas and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to pick out some fish?” Dean asks.
Cas nods and Cain walks over with a few small plastic tubs and two nets. He hands one to each of them and slides over some stools so they can reach the tank better. Dean fills his tub part way up with water and begins trying to catch a big orange and black fish darting along the side.
By the time he catches the fish, he sees that Cas has 2 already in his tub and has started on a new one. Dean finally gets a second fish in his and closes a lid on the top. Cain takes the tub and sets it on the counter by Cas’s.
They each catch one more fish--Dean a bright orange one and Cas a white speckled one-- And put them in a tub before stepping off their stools and heading over to the register.
Cain told them a bit about care and maintenance for the fish before ringing them up and saying goodbye. Cas took all three tubs stacked nicely on top of each other in his lap once they got to the car.
The ride home took much longer but Dean didn't mind. He had to drive slower(Cas kept asking) so it wouldn't shake up the fish too much. He enjoyed watching how fascinated Cas was by the small orange fish.
“Have you ever had a pet before?” Dean asked, glancing over at Cas.
Cas lifted his eyes away from the fish, “No, have you?”
“No but I helped take care of Sammy’s dog, Bones, sometimes.”
“We should name them.”
“What?”
“We should give the fish names.” Cas repeated.
Dean and Cas spent the rest of the ride discussing the names of their 6 new fish. By the time they reached home, they had decided on the names Buddy, Cinnamon, Ralf, Carl, Debbie, and Fiona
Dean helped Cas carry the fish to the back and adjust them to the water before carefully dumping them in the pond. They watched the fish swim loops around their new home. Cas’s arm was pressed against Dean’s, the touch warm and solid.
Dean stayed there for a moment, wanting to savor the feeling. He heard his stomach grumble and looked over at Cas who was still watching the fish. Dean checked his watch, 5:37pm.
“I’m gonna start on dinner. Burgers sound alright?” Dean asked Cas.
“That sounds great, thank you, Dean.” Cas smiled u[ at him before looking back at the fish.
Dean stepped away and went into the house, taking his shoes off in the sun room before entering the kitchen. He pulled a package of ground beef from the fridge and set to work on the meat.
He sliced up some potatoes and seasoned them up before laying them in a pan and placing them in the oven. Dean grabbed the plate of raw patties and carried them out to the old grill by the shed.
Cas had gotten out a lawn chair and his journal and was writing while watching the fish. Dean smiled at how cute he looked hunched over that book, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth and brows furrowed in concentration.
This was so perfect. The smell of burgers cooking on the grill, the warm air and soft breeze, his adorable friend memorized by his new goldfish. Even Dean’s knee felt better than normal.
When the burgers were done, Dean carried them back inside on the plate and set them on the counter. He pulled the fries out of the oven and sprinkled them with salt before getting some buns and two plates and serving up the food.
He tucked two bottles of beer under his arm and picked up the plates off the counter, using his shoulder to push open the doors and head outside.
Cas had set up another chair beside him while Dean was inside and was now looking out at the trees. Dean had discovered a while ago that Cas was fascinated by nature and all its wonders but he didn't know how cute it was to see Cas looking in awe at everything from inchworms to the moss on a rock.
Dean walked up and held out the plate for Cas. He took it and set it on his lap, reaching back up for the beer Dean was offering.
Once Dean sat down in his own chair, Cas picked up the burger and examined it in his hands before taking a bite. He groaned then took another huge bite out of the burger.
Dean chuckled. “It’s even better when you chew it.”
Cas set the half of the burger he hadn't eaten yet and swallowed his bite, turning to look at Dean. Dean felt his mouth go dry as he watched Cas’s neck muscles work as he very visibly swallowed his food.
“The food is great, Dean, thank you.” Cas said.
“Yeah, no problem.” Dean replied, still in a haze.
Cas practically inhaled the rest of his food and set his plate on the ground when he finished. He sat back in his chair slowly sipping his beer while watching the fish swim lazy circles in the pond.
Dean finished shortly after, relaxing into his chair with his own beer.
“Man, six siblings must’ve been crazy. One was hard enough.” Dean sighed
“The age differences made it a bit easier I guess. I never really got along with any of my older siblings other than Gabriel, but even he could be an assbutt. Anna and I got along really well until she left to live with her boyfriend.”
“What’d the others do that made you not like ‘em so much?”
“Micheal was always about himself. He was the oldest and bossiest of us all but Lucifer is a close second there. Luci was always the ‘bully’ of the house. The one to take your stuff and break it or glue tacks to the seat of your chair. Uriel was such a rule follower and do-gooder that he was no fun to be around, I don't think he even has many friends. Naomi is sly and manipulative. She is easily one of the smartest members of the family in the sense that she can get whatever she wants from you with little effort on her part.”
“Man, they sound like dicks.”
“They weren't that bad once you got used to it but I was glad to leave that house.”
“I would be too. Sammy and I always got along pretty great. Whenever we fought, we would make up by the end of that day or the next morning. He was always such a great kid.”
“And you're a great big brother, Dean. Sam is lucky to have you and not someone like Micheal or Lucifer. Not even Gabriel was as good as you are and he was the nicest one of my siblings.”
Dean felt heat rise in his cheeks and a faint prickle of tears in his eyes. “I- uh- thanks. You- you said Anna left to live with her boyfriend, right?”
“Yes. She got with someone she met in high school. He was abusive and manipulative. He had her cut us off and leave.”
“Man, that's terrible.”
“I don't think about them much other than Gabe. I never really knew my mother and my father was a neglectful alcoholic so I don't enjoy thinking about my family much.”
“Well I guess we both had pretty sucky childhoods. But hey, look what we have now! We have a fish pond! ”
Cas laughs and Dean joins in. They finish their beers in comfortable silence, watching the sun set beneath the trees and listening to the bubble of the pond's waterfall.
Dean takes Cas’s plate and sets it on his before taking it inside the house. He rinses them and loads them in the dishwasher. He’s drying his hands on a dish towel when Cas comes inside.
They go upstairs and go to their separate rooms to get ready for bed but shortly after, Cas comes back to Dean’s room and they both curl up under the blankets together.
Cas rolls towards Dean and drapes an arm over him and they snuggle up under the sheets, relaxing at the sounds of each other's breathing. Dean falls asleep happy and warm, completely unaware of the inky black shadow grinning at him from the dark corner of the room.
~~~
@stuff-that-is-other
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im-999 · 5 years ago
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One month you’re working down to the wire preparing for Kupo-con, and the next thing you know its all over! A huge thank you to all who stopped by my table!  I had such a fantastic time just chilling and getting to meet a lot of XV fans, particularly the Ignis ones.  
Around lunch time I had to step away from my table for a bit to retrieve my gift for Adam (pictured above) since it was still drying in my apartment. ;_;  The night prior, stupid me thought that the resin coating would be thick enough not to leak through to the back of the frame and boy was I mistaken.  What resulted the morning of, was my panicky self running back and forth at 4am alternating between wiping down leaky resin and pointing a hair dryer at this thing praying it would dry faster before leaving the rest to chance.
Unfortunately, even when I presented it to Adam, it hadn’t fully cured yet, but he was such a good sport about it, and gave me his word that he would let it dry properly. XD
Lesson learned for next time... **nervous laughter**
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Among meeting friends in the fandom, I was also able to finally purchase and trade for these beautiful pieces of merch from some of my favorite artists!  Ah the talent in this fandom is so good and it just keeps on giving!  I really hope to attend more Kupo-cons in the future, not just for the tabling experience, but to hang out with fans more...maybe even cosplay if I’m feeling bold. XD 
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During the event I managed to sell out of prints entirely, but I still have plenty of charms to go around! From the time being I’ve thrown them into my etsy shop if any of you are interested.  Indefinitely, for every 2 charms you purchase I’ll throw in a free final fantasy watercolor mascot sticker!  You have the choice of a cactuar, moogle, tonberry, chocobo, or carbuncle sticker.  Make sure you list the one you want in the comment box!
While making these charms, I’ve also started to really keep track of ideas for future Ignis merch that I’m hoping to work on now that Kupo is over, so feel free to follow the shop for updates...though I’ll likely post about it here first! =D
Last of all, I’m hoping to just make new art for the blog in general...between my previous con and Kupo, I feel like I have been neglecting this blog and you all.  I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but as always, thank you, thank you, thank you all, for following, the comments, the reblogs and the likes.  I really want to continue painting Ignis and the bros for as long as I can!  T_T
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|| Etsy Shop! (IncredibleMathStudio) || Sagefire zine (Incredible Math)||
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papiermachecat · 5 years ago
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Do you mind me asking what colors you use for skin tones in watercolor? I have a very hard time mixing good flesh colors but I can’t find any good ready-made colors either.
MIND?!? Talking about colors is like one of my very favorite topics! Okay so, I’m going to assume you mean lighter skin colors, because they’re the tricky ones in watercolor (since you generally want to avoid using white to mix). ANYWAY: I start with a golden yellow (like diarylide yellow by QoR) and then add a red-violet (quinacridone lilac is a good one). You want a slightly muted orange. For rosier tones, I loooove Terra Rosa by M Graham (It’s their version of terracotta, but it’s a beautiful dusky pink)—great for ears, cheeks, under eyes, around the nose, etc. So those 3 are pretty much all I used on the skin in this painting:
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And then I just build it up in light layers. I still have a long way to go with the ear & the shadows under the jaw (hopefully that edge I neglected to blend won’t be noticeable when I’m done); I’ll probably add in a deeper brown at some point, maybe a burnt umber.
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bytheangell · 5 years ago
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This is the Coda that Never Ends... Part 10
(read on AO3) (read from the beginning) 
Clarissa has no idea what she’s doing in this part of town. She hasn’t stopped wandering the streets ever since Maia kicked her out of the… whatever that place was. It didn’t have a name on the outside and she knew it wasn’t the Jade Wolf anymore, but she doesn’t know what it’s turning into. Another restaurant, that much was obvious to Clarissa from her short time inside. She hadn’t even bothered to ask the girl who was nice enough to let her stay despite the fact that she knows how crazy she sounded showing up out of the blue like that. 
Clarissa imagines she’ll find out when it opens, because there’s not a chance in hell she’s going back there any time soon. Probably not even once it opens, because how can she show her face around Maia after whatever that was? 
The symbol she drew seems burned onto her brain, and it isn’t the only one. What does it mean? Where did it come from? Was it offensive, and that’s why Maia reacted the way she had? Clarissa thinks she should know but it’s all just out of reach and her head starts to ache every time she thinks about it for more than a few seconds. It’s probably a blessing in disguise that Maia kicked her out because the longer she stared at the thing she painted the stronger the dull throbbing behind her temples grew. 
She feels a little better now, the air cool against her skin. She runs her fingers through her hair  to get out some dried-up chips of paint while she walks. She started walking just to distance herself at first but it quickly becomes apparent that she isn’t walking back towards school, or her dorm. When she passes by all of her usual food or coffee stops a part of her registers that she doesn’t know where she’s going, she’s just walking. 
...except that isn’t quite true, is it? This doesn’t feel like aimless wandering and that scares her even more than the idea of getting herself properly lost in the city, because while nothing in this area looks familiar to her it all feels familiar. 
The sound of her phone ringing shakes her from her thoughts. It’s Rebecca, her roommate, and she almost doesn’t answer it; the only reason she does is so Rebecca doesn’t get worried and send out a search party for her or something. 
“What’s up?” Clarissa asks, feet continuing to carry her forward. As she walks she’s positive she sees a guy and a girl with tattoos just like the guy from the art show - Jace, she remembers. Just like Jace’s tattoos. She feels the ache begin in her temples again and ignores it. “Actually, I’m glad you called. Remember the guy from the show last night?” 
She hears Rebecca try not to laugh. “You mean your imaginary biker boy?” 
“He’s real,” Clary states with conviction. Is she trying to convince herself, or Rebecca? She chased the guy outside, found out (or more like remembered) his name, and then he was gone. Except not a single other person at the show remembers seeing him; even the people who tried to stop her as she ran out of the building because she looked upset claimed they just saw her running out alone. “He was there. I touched his tattoo.” 
“I’m just saying,” Rebecca says conversationally, her words drawn out as forgets for a moment that she’s the one who called to say something, not the other way around. “If there was a guy there matching that description, I’d remember.” Clarissa can hear her roommate sigh, no doubt conjuring the mental image of her description of Jace and rolls her eyes. “Anyway, why are you asking?” 
“I could’ve sworn I just saw two people with the same tattoos he had. What if they’re in some sort of secret organization? Or a gang?” 
“That’d be hot,” Rebecca says without missing a beat, and Clary rolls her eyes again. “Anyway, enough about him. I have the best news, ’Rissa! You’re never going to guess!” There’s an almost palpable excitement in the girl’s tone that sounds through the phone. 
“Tell me you finally got the nerve to ask Jessie out and she said yes,” Clarissa guesses, deciding to embrace the distraction of her roommate’s call rather than fixating on what has to be a coincidence with the thick black tattoos.  
“What?! Absolutely not! She came by the exhibition last night and I barely managed to remember the word ‘thanks’ when she complimented my watercolor. And you think I can string an entire sentence together?” The voice over the phone concludes with a laugh. 
“Welp, I’m out of guesses then. What is it?” Clarissa asks, half-listening to her roommate and half-focused on the fact that the area around her is getting real sketchy, real fast. 
“Someone just bought all of you artwork.” 
Clarissa stops walking. “You’re joking.” 
“Why would I joke about that?! The sale was huge, easily the biggest we’ve made all year from any of the exhibitions, let alone one artist. Congratulations!!” Clarissa listens for any sign of jealousy, or a hint that this is just a prank to get her hopes up. But Rebecca isn’t like that and she has no reason to start now.
“All of them?” Clarissa repeats, incredulous. Her steps slow as she walks, trying to process that. “Who was it?” 
Rebecca makes a noncommittal noise over the phone. “Anonymous purchase. Left you a nice note, though. I’ll bring it back to the room so you don’t have to come by the gallery’s office for it.” 
“Thanks,” Clarissa says, the word sounding breathless. This changes everything. All of her concerns over getting a place after graduation when her scholarship ran out were solved in one fell swoop, at least for the first few months. It’s a better start than she hoped for previously, putting serious consideration into budgeting just how long through the summer months she could stretch food money if she didn’t mind sofa surfing around a few friends’ apartments. 
She stops walking then, not because of the news she just heard, but because she’s here. 
Here, it seems, is an abandoned church on Deighton. The windows are cracked, vines creep up the sides of the building nearly to the top of the tallest points, and broken stairs lead up to a set of doors. Everything around her is overgrown, as if it hadn't been tended to in months, years probably. 
“Hey, I have to go,” she says suddenly. “I’ll see you back in the room later, you can fill me in on the mystery buyer then.” She doesn’t wait for a reply before hanging up and slipping her cell phone into her pocket. 
This is fine. It’s the middle of the day so there’s some light despite the cloudy sky, the only small comfort she seems to find. The street is inexplicably empty of any passersby, she realizes, as if people are intentionally avoiding it. Maybe they are, considering the vague sense of being watched she feels despite the lack of eyes around her. Looking straight up she stares at a window, one that’s empty and shadowed.
She feels like she’s been here before. 
She feels like she’s meant to be here now. 
That feeling drives her forward, taking several steps toward the decrepit building with a renewed sense of determination, only to pause at the foot of the stairs. This is insane. What if this is some sort of meth house? What if she walks in on a drug deal with armed gang members or something? Suddenly the dull ache from before pings across her forehead in a sting of discomfort which lingers this time, making it difficult to focus. 
She turns and takes a few steps back, pauses, and begins pacing back and forth in front of the building. Every last rational thought in her mind begs her to turn and walk away before something goes wrong, like with Maia today or when she tried to talk to Jace the night before. So far her instincts have brought her nothing but trouble, and to walk into this place alone will certainly be the height of her poor life choices. 
She stares up at the building again but for a moment she doesn’t see a neglected and a damaged facade: for a moment she sees an impressive structure with shining stained glass windows. She sees two people walk past her who definitely were not there a moment ago, walking straight through the now-open doors doors, and for a second she catches a glimpse of a long, bright hallway. And then just as quickly it’s gone, the doors shut again, the cracks and vines and worn down stone in place in front of her. 
“What the…” she mutters, blinking a few times in shock. She saw that. She definitely saw that. She can already hear Rebecca calling her crazy again when she goes back to their room and tells her about this… but maybe not if she has proof this time. Her head is throbbing now but she resolutely ignores it in her newfound determination, pulling her phone out to get a photo this time. 
Clarissa walks towards the stairs again, up one and then another, before that brief flicker of another building creeps into the edges of her vision, just out of sight. It’s as if it’s lurking in her periphery, gone every time she turns to look. But she tries anyway, focusing in on it, staring not at what she can see but what she feels as if she should see… 
The dull aching in her head quickly turns into a steady pounding of her pulse behind her temples, so loud it’s almost deafening. A second later her head is in her hands and she’s doubled over, vision swimming. 
She thinks she feels a hand on her shoulder but she can’t be certain before her vision stops spinning and fades to black entirely, consumed by the dark relief of unconsciousness.
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redfoxwritesstuff · 6 years ago
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Clover And Lace, Chapter 1
Happy Friday. Welcome to the launch of Clover and Lace. This idea has been kicking around for almost a year now. It was probably the first story idea to ever come to me as a complete plot and I’m honestly very excited for this one. Let’s all take a moment to thank @winterisakiller who has acted as support, at times beta and a wonderful ear for me to bounce plot points off of all while being trusted with the series’ deepest secrets.  
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC 
Series Warnings: Future smut and cannon typical violence. Mentions of passed sexual assault, child abuse, neglect and death. 
Summary: When Steve feels like the fight will never end he buries himself in his work, running mission after missing and running the team ragged. In a effort to get themselves some peace, he is encouraged to leave the city for a while. What he finds when he does is wholly unexpected.
Sara was everything she appeared to be. A small town artist who was the only daughter if immigrant parents. Her red hair and green eyes could draw anyone’s attention. In Steve’s eyes she was perfectly sweet and unmarred by the horrors of the world. Instantly Steve was drawn to her. She was everything she seemed and had a easy way about her.
It’s a shame she had her secrets. When nothing with Sara is as it seems and lies give way to truth, can Steve and Sara find away to allow their just blossoming love to bloom or will the fire of mistrust burn what could have been to the ground leaving nothing but ashes between them?
Chapter 1
Steve Rogers didn't know what he expected to come of his trip to Akron, New York but he knew he needed to make the trip. It was a few hours drive upstate but he had caught wind of a art exhibit being held for one of their local painters. Word of mouth even was that she was good.
He had a rare day off and Bucky encouraged him to go. Really, he was given the appearance of having a choice in the matter. They said he was at risk of burnout. They said that he did nothing but work, nothing but train and fight. They said it wasn’t healthy.
While that was true there was always a battle to be won, always a enemy that needed to be put down. It was never ending. Even when he took breaks, he filled his time with paperwork. There was always more to do.
He supposed they were right. A part of him knew it even as he jumped on his Harley and made his way out of the city. It felt odd to be out of the city and relaxed. Steve didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't remember the last time he had fresh air to breath and the peace to actually enjoy it.
If he was going to this exhibit, he may as well try to the event. He had always enjoyed art, when did he give that up? And so just like that Steve decided to start enjoying things again. Starting with the ride to Akron and looking at paintings by some no name local artist who some said could make a name for herself, he would learn to enjoy things again.
Sara Wilson penned her name to one last canvas and frowned down at it. 'Sara Wilson' it read. How she hated the name. Yet she long ago stopped entertaining the idea of taking a name she would like. Names changed with time. For her they always did and always will, one way or another.
“Sara, dear! We need the last of them to hang.” The hearty voice of the old woman who owned the cafe below called from the stairs.
She would rarely come up- her knees and back ached making it nearly impossible for her to climb the stairs or so she said. It was one of the reasons she let Sara rent the upstairs apartment so cheap. Yet as the old woman got more and more comfortable her knees felt up to tackling the stairs more often and she would visit with Sara.
Sara always liked Mrs. Jones and when she told her friends in the big city about Sara's art somehow she ended up putting on a show. It was never a good idea to draw attention to herself but she didn't want to disappoint the old woman who gave her so much kindness and understanding. Mrs. Jones never asked the hard questions about Sara's past, the questions that would always be avoided and redirected.
It took a few more hours to set up the show. Watercolors littered the walls around them in the cafe. Snacks were ready, drinks were ready and the cafe even had a barista in to man the espresso machine. People came, people went and Sara was growing tired of dodging questions about who she was and where she came from. Some people bought her art, some did not and it didn't matter to her one way or another.
Then, she saw him. When he walked in, Sara about dropped her glass. Tall and blonde, he was perfection walking. While many women fawned over tall, dark and handsome she had always preferred the lighter look. Maybe it was just that she was hiding from her own darkness that she didn't want it mirrored in her partner.
Not that she would ever truly have a partner. Not wanting to get caught looking at him for too long, she turned quickly and made herself busy as best she could. If she was lucky he wouldn't see her and she wouldn't have to try and talk to him.
Steve however had his eyes trained on her almost instantly. The motion of the white of her dress caught his eye as she spun on her heel to face away. That was well enough for him as it gave him a chance to take her in from a distance without looking like a creep.
She wore a lacy white floral print dress that dusted over her knees and simple rose heels. The cut was classic and flattered her frame. Auburn hair was curled loosely and cascaded down her shoulders. Light skin looked to just be kissed by the sun enough to give it color but she was still fair.
“Her name is Sara,” The voice of a old woman startled him. “if you'd like to pick your jaw up off my floor and go talk to her. Keep drooling and you’ll leave a puddle on my floor for me to slip on. You want me to break a hip, Boy?” When the old woman came up next to him, Steve had no idea.
“Thank you Ma'am but I'm just here to look at the art.” He really didn't have the life to be getting involved with someone. And truly whoever Sara was she deserved a whole life.
“Son, you seem more keen on admiring the artist over the art.” With a raspy laugh, the woman patted him on the back and left him be.
Steve had half a mind to tell the woman he was old enough to nearly be her father but she seemed to not recognize him. Sara was the artist?
Steve stood back and watched her for a few moments longer as she turned and spoke with another man. Over the small crowd he could hear the melody of her laugh, it sounded almost like wind chimes. Before he thought better of it his feet carried him forward.
“Hi.” Steve spoke simply when she turned to him.
Bucky would have been proud that he had at least he managed to say that much without stammering. She was beautiful. Pale skin and dark green eyes greeted him. Her petal pink lips turned up in a smile.
“Hello.” Was all she said in return as she took him in.
His blue eyes and light brown hair made him look all American. If he spent too much time in the sun, did the strands bleach blonde? Sara wondered if she got closer, would he smell of apple pie?
“I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. You, ah-” There you are old boy- stammering in front of a pretty face yet again as he held his hand out. “These are yours?”
“Sara Wilson. Yeah, they are mine.” She couldn't help the smile when rather than shake her hand as she expected, he took it to his lips and kissed her knuckles before releasing it. It was such an old fashioned gesture that it brought a blush to her face.
“You do beautiful work, Miss Wilson.” Steve made a point to look around, trying to ignore how cute she looked with her flushed cheeks.
“Please, Sara is fine.” She rested her hand on his arm as she spoke. “And thank you. It passes the time.”
“Your accent, I can't place it?” Steve felt rude for asking, but it was just a hint of an accent that seemed to make her words float away on the wind.
“Ah, my parents are from Europe and traveled around so much. I was born here however it seems to stick.” She smiled and hoped her eyes wouldn't betray her lie or that he wouldn’t ask if ‘here’ meant this little town or just stateside. As much as she had tried to school her accent over the years, it still gave her away as different.
“I like it.” Steve admitted, cringing slightly as he processed his own words. Sara just smiled at him.
“Would you like a drink?” Sara looked around as if a drink would come to her before leading him to the refreshment table. Mumbling a thanks, Steve followed close behind.
“I, ah-.” Sara was amazed how her brain seemed to shut off as she waved her hand dumbly at the table full of drinks next to the coffee bar.
“A beer is fine. I mean, great.” Steve plucked the beer up and made quick work of taking a long pull from the bottle. If he was drinking, he couldn’t say anything else stupid. At least, he was counting on it to keep his mouth occupied while he tried to remember how to talk like a human being.  
Somehow, they passed the next few hours chatting away seemingly about nothing. Sara found that he did not actually smell of apple pie, when they stood on the balcony overlooking the lake behind the cafe.
The wind shifted and she was just close enough that she could smell the rich scent of his aftershave. He smelled of sandalwood and a hint of pine, not pie it turned out. She learned much about him. He liked apple pie and pumpkin spice. Even now, she still could swear he was everything good about America, right down to being happy to talk about shallow topics and his own likes.  
Steve didn't notice much when he was with her. His attention was wholly focused on the way her hair danced in the breeze and how the setting sun made her eyes sparkle. They were so close, standing next to each other leaning on the railing that he could feel the warmth of her arm. Again, the wind shifted, stronger this time and he was mesmerized as her hair danced in her face.
He listened to her laugh as she tucked the strands back behind her ear. The sweet smell of her perfume filled his nose and he wondered if this was what he really needed. If what he needed was to reconnect with the world, not to look at some paintings.
“Sara?” She smiled up at him.
“Yes, Steve?” Oh how his name sounded, floating away from her lips.
“I'd like to maybe see you again. If you wouldn't be opposed, that is.”
She just couldn't get over him. He spoke and acted as if he was from the past. So old fashioned, so respectful. It was a risk, but she wanted to know more about him. It has been years now, she was allowed to have a life. Surely, it wouldn't be that much of a risk?
“I'd like that. Won't you call me from the big bad city?” She deserved to be happy, even if it was for a few fleeting moments.
“I'll do you one better, Doll. I'll come see you. Next weekend, surely there is a place to grab a nice dinner around here?”
“Oh- I ah...” Sara looked away, not sure what to say. This wasn’t something she expected or even dared to dream of.
“How about I just call you?” Steve presses, biting his lip. He didn’t want to let her go. Maybe it was too soon to plan a trip out to see her. Perhaps he was rushing a bit. Things moved so differently now, so fast and yet so slow somehow at the same time. “We can go from there?”
“Okay.” Sara looked down before swallowing the butterflies trying to escape her stomach. She was excited for the prospect of something she didn’t even know would happen. Something she shouldn’t even let happen.
She watched from the front porch as the lights of his bike faded in the distance. Chewing at her lip while she lost in thought, she didn’t hear Mrs. Jones come up next to her.
“He was a mighty fine man.” The old woman sighed wistfully. “A good one too it seems. They don’t seem to make them like that often now a days. Tell me you got his number, Girl?”
“I did.” And that was part of the problem.
Getting attached wasn’t a good idea. Now with the hustle and bustle of the show over and without his nearly intoxicating presence next to her, doubt began to creep in. To ever talk to him again was risky. Was that risk worth a few moments of feeling normal, of maybe being happy? Was the heartbreak of when she had to leave worth it?And she would have to leave. She always had to leave.
“Good girl.” Mrs. Jones praised as she patted the woman she knew as Sara on the arm. “If I was 40 years younger, I’d be all over him.”
“Mrs. Jones, you’d be like 45 if that was the case.” Sara laughed.
“I’d make sure he knows how to use what God gave him.” The old woman winked and she laughed. “Make sure he’s in fine shape for you, Sara dear.”
“Oh god.” Sara shook her head and turned away, trying to hide the blush that Mrs. Jones already knew was there. It took nothing to make her turn shades of pink and oh how that old woman enjoyed teasing her. It wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t.
Rosemary spent the two hours pacing her small apartment. Mrs. Jones wouldn’t let her help clean up, insisting that she did the hard work of talking to everyone today and those ‘big strong Maxus boys’ could do the cleaning up. That left Rosemary plenty of time to think.
Thinking was good and bad. She thought of how she almost liked the way Steve said ‘Sara’. The memory of the way he smiled at her just a little softer when he didn’t realize she was looking made her cheeks warm.
Sitting down on her couch she tried to decide what to do. If she called her brother, she knew what he would tell her. Don’t ever speak to him again. Don’t ever look at him again. It’s safer to be alone.
And he would be right. But she knew right now no one knew where she was. Right now, she was safe. She’d made a life here for the last four months and it was looking like she could remain for maybe up to a year longer. It would be one of her longest stints in one place and it was exciting. But she also knew when she left- and she would have to leave eventually without so much as a goodbye or a look behind, it would hurt all the more.
Unlocking her phone, she spent far too long just looking at his number. She wanted to text him, make sure he had made it back to the city alright. Hell, she wanted to call him and hear his voice again already.
She needed to block the number and delete the contact. No matter how badly she wanted to be normal for a little but. The painting above her TV caught her eye. It was a watercolor of what was a historic looking couple locked in a sweet kiss. It was one of her favorite works and like all of her others, when she moved on from here she would leave it behind.
It made her question what harm could there be in giving him a chance. It was all temporary, just like everything in her life but she could enjoy it while it lasts. Why shouldn’t she get to know what it feels like to love another, even for a little bit?
With a bitter laugh she shook her head. It was a childish wish. A dumb idea. Highlighting the contact she brought open the menu. First she would block the number, then delete it. No more temptation once that was done. It was just a few clicks on the screen.
Steve rode home that night with a smile on his face and a new phone number in his contact list. He had promised to let her know he made it home safe and so he sent her a text message just as soon as he rolled in.
If she knew him as Captain America she had given no indication and that was just fine by him. If she lived under a rock in small town America and only knew him as Steve Rogers he would be all the happier.
“I take it you enjoyed yourself?” Bucky was leaning against the counter of their shared apartment as the front door closed behind Steve.
Tony had offered them a room in the compound and for a while Steve had taken him up on the offer. In time however, Bucky was ready to reach out and become a part of the world again. Being a part of the world resulted in him being open to being a part of Steve’s life again.
The compound wasn’t such a good place for Bucky however. The cold industrial feel of the building seemed to trigger Bucky’s nightmares and seemed to cause them to become worse and though Tony was more than willing to make whatever changes they thought may help, it ended up being better to simply move out and find a apartment for the two of them.
“I met a dame. Long legs, soft hair, beautiful lips.” Steve gushed as he made his way to Bucky and leaned on the other side of the island as he pulled out his phone.
“That so?” Bucky leaned forward, looking at the screen as Steve typed a message that was perfectly fine.
Bucky then watched as Steve deleted the message. And typed a more cheesy message. He then deleted that one and wrote something that sounded far too causal and dismissive and deleted that one. Before he could type yet another message Bucky plucked the phone from his friend’s hands.
“Hey!” Steve squawked in protest as he reached over the island for his phone only to have buck lean back against the far counter.
“No, you’re being a fucking dumb shit. Each message is getting worse. You’re going to end up sending nothing at this rate.”
“I was going to send...” Steve lunged around the counter as Bucky darted around to the other side of the island.
“Send what?” Bucky challenged as he typed quickly on the phone. “Flowers in 10 years?”
“Dammit Bucky, give me the phone!”
“There.” Bucky hit send.
Tossing the phone back to Steve, Bucky rolled his eyes at the way his friend visibly relaxed reading the perfectly acceptable message sent as him. With a chirp the phone announced a few moments later that a message was received.
“What did she say?”
“’Glad you made it back safe.’ that’s it?” Before Steve could begin overthinking things in earnest his phone chirped again. “This one says: ‘I really enjoyed our time today.’”
“Well good fucking job, Punk.”
The remainder of the night was spent rehashing the night with his friend while trying to figure out a plan. It was decidedly the most normal night they had spent in over 70 years.
Tag List: @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @bambamwolf87, @dangertoozmanykids101, @alexakeyloveloki, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @winterisakiller
@sweetbeary713- I still can’t tag you :( 
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pixiealtaira · 6 years ago
Text
Into The Woods
Here it is... day 15 of Kurtoberfest...2016
It is not Blaine friendly, it is a break-up fic.  It features the Warblers and Elliot.
Rated M...but probably doesn’t need that high a rating.
Kurt centric
Summary: Kurt is Lost In The Woods.
 In to The Woods (not posted)
Kurt Hummel was lost in the woods.  At least that is what his Facebook page was shouting. He’d already called his dad and informed him he wasn’t ‘lost’ lost in the woods, but he was…in a manner of speaking…lost in the woods.
Kurt Hummel was lost in the woods with a tent and air mattress, three sleeping bags, several blankets and two pillows, plenty of clothing, a cook stove so he didn’t have to build a fire, a cooler full of food, a cooler which was filled with bottled water, a generator that he peddled on which he could make enough power with to charge his laptop, cell phone and the lantern he used as his main light source at night.  He had a very comfy camp chair and a portable table.  He had his digital camera and several novels he’d been waiting to read until he’d had enough of a school break to do so.  He had notebooks and pencils and even a sketchpad and watercolors, watercolor paper, tape and a great selection of paintbrushes. He had his laptop and several days’ worth of downloaded movies, his old IPod classic which held music and only music and enough music to listen to all week almost without repeating a single song.
He had a working cellphone, cell phone service and he even had internet since he’d set his phone up as a Wi-Fi hotspot.
He was perfectly content to remain lost in the woods for the rest of the godawful ‘camping’ vacation…which was three more days.
It started with a magazine article and a desire to try to ‘fix’ his relationship with Blaine.
He and Blaine could not live together. It seriously was as simple as that.  The evening Blaine had moved back in, within hours of sending Rachel off, Blaine started fussing about the loft. He wanted to redo the book shelves, he wanted the bathroom reorganized. Heck, in the bathroom he wanted to come up with the money needed to have the bathroom renovated so the toilet and sink were in ‘better’ spots for Blaine’s use, regardless of Kurt’s insistence he would have to ask the landlord about that in the first place and they were never going to come up with the money considering a certain someone had no steady job.  Blaine needed things done his way in the kitchen, even though he used it less than Kurt. It only got worse when Kurt spoke about school.  Kurt understood that’s June’s showcase took a lot of time and that just because it happened didn’t mean it was completely over and Blaine could just start ignoring her.  Kurt pointed out that Blaine still had classes to attend and that he hadn’t thought Blaine skipping them when preparing for the showcase was a good idea to start off with and Blaine certainly should not keep skipping them when he wasn’t working towards an actual event.
Kurt was reminded that he wasn’t the boss of Blaine and that Blaine could do what he wanted.  Fine and dandy, however, the tantrum tossed when Kurt refused to skip class and meet up for an afternoon of gaming with Sam while Sam was in town finishing up paperwork at the model agency was uncalled for and ridiculous.  The semi silent treatment…Blaine refused to speak to Kurt when Kurt spoke but Blaine was happy to tell Kurt about how mean Kurt was acting and how much he had hurt Sam’s feelings (Kurt hadn’t, he’d texted an apology to Sam with the explanation that Kurt could not miss his dance class and that he’d buy Sam dinner when he was in Lima next and Sam said he was fine with it) so long as Kurt just sat and took it and didn’t dare speak back…was annoying and irritating.
Then there was the wedding crap.  Kurt told Blaine the hour after they got engaged that he was NOT getting married until he had finished university...and maybe even landed a full time serious job in his fields of choice.  It was NOT happening.  Kurt heard nothing different from Blaine about it either.  Until it passed a year of being engaged and all of a sudden Blaine kept coming and telling him about potential sites and potential caters and asking for him to make a firm decision on colors and a guest list.  Kurt had never even mentioned colors or a guest list, ever…not to even make a non-firm comment. Kurt’s reminder that he still had two more years at least and maybe more before even THINKING about a wedding seemed to not be heard…at all…not any of the 500 or more times he said it. (Neither did Kurt’s reminder that KURT had his wedding planned down to the number of filler flowers in the table displays, thank you very much…so Blaine needed to back off and chill out because so far nothing Blaine had brought forward would ever work even in whatever dream reality Blaine was working under. When Kurt decided that it was time for a wedding, Kurt would then present his fiancé with five choices and after that make five calls and they would be ready to go.  That had been yelled the fourteenth time Blaine asked Kurt if he thought Forest Green and Peach would be good for wedding colors. )
All that added with the fights about shoes and clothing and picking up after one’s self and TV choices and movies and gaming and food choices and washing dishes and chores and jobs and rugs and towels and bathroom timing and personal hygiene and good lord everything…Kurt and Blaine were not at a good spot coming up towards the end of the semester.
NYADA’s last day for underclassman was the 16th of May.  NYADA’s seniors walked the 10th, with all that week before dedicated to the seniors presenting their final projects and stuff and the seniors taking all their finals for non-presentation classes.  It was a dead week for the rest of the campus…it was supposed to be used to study for finals and any presentations they might have during their finals week…unless you were involved in a seniors project.  Kurt was not during the end of his second year…or rather his job had already been done and he wasn’t needed on campus. Furthermore, he had already presented for three classes, finished and turned in his huge paper for one class, was complete and ready to present in two classes and didn’t need much more studying for his finals in the rest. To top it all off, he’d taken off the whole of dead week from all jobs, because the year before during dead week Kurt had been buried under so much work it had not been funny. He had just neglected (or blocked) to remember why he’d been so far behind and working so hard to catch up.
When Kurt came home on the last day of April, Blaine was already home.  He was sprawled out on the couch and had his face buried in some sort of magazine.  Kurt hung up his bag and coat, pulled off his boots, and went to sit by him and turn on some TV until he had to move again…or make dinner, even though it was Blaine’s night to feed them.
“Hey Kurt,” Blaine said as he noticed the TV go on. “You should read this article.  I bet we could get some ideas on how you could fix our relationship.”
“We could certainly use some help, but I’m sure a therapist would be a better option than a magazine article.”  Kurt replied.
“I told you, I’m not going to therapy.  It is a waste of time. My mother says it has not helped one single bit for either her or my dad, so I doubt it would help us.”
“Well, you do have to sort of show up for it to help…” Kurt said under his breath. Louder Kurt said, “So what does the article say?”
“It talks about activities couples can do together to reconnect and get back into tune with each other.  We should go camping!  It says camping allows couples to rely on each other and talk to each other without distractions.  We could go before finals.  We should totally do the full week!”
“Don’t you need to study and finish up projects?”  Kurt asked.
“Ok…we’ll come home late Friday.  I’ll have the whole weekend.  We can leave this Friday, right after your morning class.”
“I have a presentation to give at my 1pm class.”
“Ok…right after that.” Blaine said bouncing on the couch.
“Is it even all the way thawed out anywhere?”  Kurt asked.
“Thawed? I guess.  It’ll be great!  I know the perfect place to head off to! You get everything together and I’ll get the place set up.  Oh…we’ll need to rent a car.”
Blaine’s confusion at the word thawed should have been the first clue that he and Kurt didn’t have the same idea of camping.  That and the word car.
“Leave that to me as well, Dad gave me the number to some of his friends.” Kurt said.
Had Kurt thought about things for much longer, instead of simply going into planning mode, he probably should have figured out that Blaine’s idea of camping and Kurt’s idea of camping were very much two different things. Except, Kurt rather liked the idea of camping, of peace and nature and relaxing, so he didn’t think about it long and just jumped into planning mode.
Kurt called one of his dad’s friends the next day, who rented him a SUV since he wasn’t sure where they were going camping and he might need a 4wheel drive. Kurt also called NYADA’s student recreation center and found out that they did rent out tents and camping gear, also if he chose to buy they gave him the name of three sporting goods shops who gave tremendous students discounts.  Kurt rented the tent and camp stove with a full propane tank, but when they showed him the pedal powered generator and external batteries to be charged and used with laptops and other larger items, Kurt went to the sporting goods shop and bought that (he’d already bought sleeping bags after their snowed in day). He bought the type of camp food that was like military MREs, but which he hoped tasted a bit better…although some of the MREs his dad forced down him when he was younger weren’t too bad. He bought other food too…hot dogs(which were only edible outside cooked over an open fire) and potatoes for a fry-up, marshmallows and eggs, some good fish that was frozen, onions and peppers and other things to make tinfoil dinners. He even gave into nostalgia and bought spaghetti circles and meatballs and canned raviolis and hot chocolate packets and instant oatmeal. He broke down and bought sodas, not just his Diet Coke, but fun root beers and other fruity sodas in bottles and regular cans of Cokes and Pepsis and Sprites. He found a good deep pot for Dutch-oven cooking and bought the makings for peach cobbler and a good outdoor fry pan that could sit over open flames or on a camp stove, he added a smaller pot and camping utensils and camping dishes for himself and Blaine that he could wash but he wouldn’t have to risk his matching place settings at home. He bought two coolers and four of the reusable ice packs to keep frozen food frozen for a decent amount of time. He bought enough bottled water to cook with and drink and even wash their hands and face with for a whole week. And, since Kurt did not trust the weather, he also bought long-johns, silk and thermal and two pairs of fleece lined jeans.  He bought two cable knit sweaters...one wool and one cotton, two fleece pull overs, a good multi-layer hooded waterproof coat which wasn’t too bulky to be comfortable, good gloves which included fingertips with which he could use his phone, nice lined boots and lots of good thick socks…oh, and a few hats.  He bought a hiking pack which he could put all his clothing and some food in, a compass and a good fire starting kit, a first aid kit that was geared towards outdoor recreation use but would be wonderful to add to the loft, and a wonderful water bottle/canteen which he couldn’t wait to take jogging with him when the whole camping thing was done.  He had never been so glad a store stayed open till 9pm in all his life.   When he got back to the loft, Blaine wasn’t there…he’d left a note saying he was out with some friends and that he’d be ready for Kurt to pick him up at three and could Kurt have the car gassed up and ready to go at the time as well.
Kurt spent the night washing clothes and getting everything ready for the next day. He charged all his devices; he loaded movies and games on the laptop.  He pulled out board games and card games and books to read. He pulled out his travel art box, and filled it with pencils, watercolor paints, brushes, and his watercolor paper pad and his sketch pad.  He found the extra SD cards for his camera and the extra battery pack and made sure it was charged.  He packed extra notebooks.  He packed a ‘goody bag’, just in case Blaine’s bonding activity ideas were more on the physical side.  He pulled out the three sleeping bags he’d bought after they were snowed in, the extra blankets and the pillows that could travel and their air mattress (bought when Sam was living there at the loft).  He packed everything into the SUV except the stuff he wanted to move to the SUV last minute.  
He finished packing as soon as he got done with his dance class, where everyone presented their pieces so that Miss July could go somewhere right after she sat through graduation. Kurt was exhausted but he thought he nailed it, which was good.  Blaine wasn’t home yet and so Kurt finished packing and had everything in the car ready. Blaine was dropped off by someone at 2:45 and ran up to the loft just in time to meet Kurt who was bringing down his art box and the last sack of groceries (seasonings and stuff from their own kitchen).
“Kurt as soon as you put that in come help me bring my stuff down and then we can be off!” Blaine yelled.
When Kurt got back up to the loft, Blaine handed Kurt a large duffel bag. Kurt locked up as Blaine carried down a large paper sack full of some sort of bottles and his travel cosmetics case. Blaine took those two items with him into the front of the SUV and Kurt packed his bag into the back.
“God, this car is huge! I don’t see why you thought we needed something so big.” Blaine complained as Kurt got into the driver’s seat. Once again, Kurt should have considered that Blaine’s surprise should have been a clue to his idea of camping.
“I didn’t know where we were going so Dad’s friend thought we might need 4wheel drive.” Kurt said.
Blaine nodded. “We might, I didn’t ask.  It’ll take about five hours to get there once we get out of the city, so we’d better head now.  Take I-80 until you get to almost Watkin’s Glen.  There might be tolls. Wake me at Binghamton if I’m not awake by then…or if you stop for food.”
Then Blaine popped his head phones in and leaned his head against the window.  He was snoring before they were even out of the neighborhood. Kurt popped his music in and settled in for the drive, singing along as he drove north.  Kurt stopped for food without waking Blaine.
He woke Blaine up when he was supposed to, and they stopped for dinner at a fast food drive-thru.  Blaine then spent the next half hour chattering about presentations and how annoying it was they were all needing to be done the week of finals.
“Why didn’t you take the option of presenting early?” Kurt asked.
“Why would I do that?” Blaine asked back.
“Because it allows you to space yourself better?”
“But it makes it so you don’t get as much time as everyone else to complete stuff.” Blaine said.
“Well, you do…I mean I know in three of those six classes you share with me the paper or presentation project is in the syllabus and so you’ve had since the start of the semester to work on it if you wanted to.  If I chose to work on it early and have it down and ready to present early I don’t see how I’ve lost time.  I just used it to my advantage.”
“But you could have done more or added more or changed things over the next week or so!” Blaine exclaimed.
“Why would I need to if I already have it done?” Kurt asked back.
Blaine just grumbled and glared at him.
“When you get to the turn off to go to the state park, take it and drive along the road you’d take to get to the back way into the camp grounds.”
“I’ve never been up here Blaine, I don’t understand where you want me to go.” Kurt said.
“There is a sign for a bed and breakfast and an inn…take that exit and follow along.  We aren’t going that far though.”
Kurt sighed. “Just tell me when to turn Blaine.”
Blaine snorted and played on his phone and Kurt drove until Blaine told him to turn.  Then Blaine started paying close attention to the road.
“See that turn right up there…the big open gate.  Turn there.” Blaine said.
Kurt turned, frowning.  
He followed the paved road up and around a bend and to the front of a large lodge thing.  He should have known. Blaine reached over and blasted the horn and guys spilled out the front.
Wes and David led the wave of boys who spilled out. Kurt noticed Jeff and Nick as well, and thought he might have seen a few others around somewhere…school, callbacks, or maybe even Dalton.
Blaine jumped out of the SUV and Kurt let his head fall forward against the steering wheel.  He sighed and got out of the car, watching as Blaine was passed from group to group for hugs and high fives and chest bumps and the whole nine yards.
“Kurt! I’m so glad Blaine talked you into camping with us!” Wes shouted, so Kurt could hear him over the noise the other guys were making.  “There is a fire out back and we’ve already set out drinks.  There is still some chowder on the stove if you haven’t eaten yet. Richards will be up later to clear it away, but he’ll leave snacks out, so don’t worry if you’re not hungry now. Would you like to take your bags up before you head out back?”
Kurt watched as Blaine draped his arm around a guy Kurt wasn’t familiar with and moved with the group of boys towards they backyard.
“I guess I’d better.” Kurt said.  He reached in and grabbed Blaine’s duffel bag and his backpack, giving the rest of the gear in the back a longing look. David was waiting for him instead of Wes.
David showed Kurt a room with double bed. “Wes got called to see if Richards would leave out stuff to make s’mores with. You lucked out; Blaine won the flip for this guest room.  Jeff was put out because he and Nick are one of the bunk rooms and he has to share with Lenny.”    
Kurt smiled.  He dropped off the bags and followed David out towards the back through the house, taking note of where everything was.
Half an hour later he went back into the kitchen for some soup.  Blaine hadn’t even acknowledged Kurt since they pulled up other than to get the keys so he could get his stuff from the front seats where he’d left it and then bring the keys back to Kurt.
Jeff wandered in a bit later, to see Kurt rinsing out his bowl.
“You don’t have to do that.  Richards is here.  He’ll come wash up later.”  Jeff said.
“I feel better if I do.” Kurt said.  
He listened to Jeff talk about his classes and clubs he was involved in.  He hadn’t realized Jeff and Nick were both at NYU and that several others they went to school with were at Columbia.
“Are you going to shoot with us tomorrow?” Jeff finally asked.
“Shoot?” Kurt asked.
“Wes has set up the archery range, but he’s also got trap shooting set up.”
“I haven’t ever done that.” Kurt said.
Jeff looked at him oddly. “Have you ever shot a gun?”
Kurt snorted.
“We go hunting.” Kurt simply said.
“Oh. I bet you could come shooting with us then. Of course if you don’t want to the hot tubs are both filled and the courts are set up and there is always gaming and TV in the house.  The pool isn’t filled though. This is the week the official pool cleaners come out and scrub it so it needed to be empty for that.”
Kurt just nodded.
“We should go see if they’ve started telling scary stories yet!” Jeff said, dragging Kurt back out to the yard.
Kurt watched as the guys told stories and drank and Blaine talked and chatted with everyone but him, leaning in and snuggling in to random guys all night. Blaine spent a good amount of time with two blonds in particular, both darker blonds than either Sam or Adam, but blonds none the less. Kurt mostly hung with Jeff, while Nick seemed to be having it out with a red headed man about the amount of alcohol he was consuming.
Kurt went up to bed at 1am.
He was one of four out of 25 up before 10am.  Wes was up working on some school work and two guys Kurt didn’t know, who ended up friends of David’s from Yale, were out in one of the hot tubs.
Richards was a very nice man in his early 50s who took care of the lodge throughout the year and stayed to do all the work needed when people were at the lodge.  He made a mean coffee cake and had no problem with Kurt making himself an omelet.
Richards showed Kurt the ATVs, all with keys ready so that they could be used, the dirt bikes and gear and the trails and explained how far back they could go before running into other people’s property or into the state forest.  There were a lot of woods out back and to the north of the house that Wes’ family owned.  He was warned not to get lost.
Blaine was finally awake around noon and Kurt joined him for lunch, along with most the rest of the guys.
Jeff bounded up to Kurt and Blaine (and the two blonds and a dark haired man whose hair was actually a mess of ringlets).
“We are going to the range this afternoon to shoot.  Wes decided he wanted to do skeet shooting and we don’t have the proper set up here for that.  Do you still want to come?” Jeff asked.
“Sure,” Kurt said.
Blaine looked at the two blonds who shook their heads and then answered. “I think I’ll stay here. I’m not big on shooting.”
Jeff looked at Blaine weird. “You love shooting with us.”
“I just think I’ll stay, but Kurt should definitely go if he wants.”
Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes.  “I’ll follow you guys. When are we leaving?”
“We are heading out at 2.” Jeff answered and then waved as he bounded off to the next bunch of guys to see who was going.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Blaine?” Kurt asked.
“I’ll be fine.  I’ll hang with Ricky and Edwin. I doubt you knew them; they both graduated my first year at Dalton.  Ricky was the head of the Warblers council before Wes, he served with Wes and Wes’ cousin Lance,” the blond wearing the man bun waved, “and Edwin was fencing champion.  That’s why I knew all about fencing when we got to stage fighting class…I use to watch Edwin fence all the time.”
Kurt smiled while struggling to keep his snort in.  Blaine had been called out over and over and over for improper fencing during class, and ignored the teacher every time…insisting he knew the real rules. Kurt hadn’t interfered with that mess. Blaine and the professor’s animosity towards each other had become legendary and Kurt wanted no part in it. He and Blaine had not been paired since the fiasco that occurred the week he’d been able to participate again in class after being bashed in the head, so it was just easier to stay out of the fuss and focus on class and not upsetting Blaine by paying too much attention to any specific other people in class.
“I’m sure you’ll have fun, then.” Kurt said.
“Are you sure you’ll be ok, Kurt?” Edwin asked. “Don’t let Jeff bully you into shooting if you don’t want to.  Blaine has told us all about how you aren’t into things like sports and horror movies and such and prefer clothes and fashion and musicals.”
“Really now?” Kurt asked, smiling the type of smile that would have warned Santana and Rachel he wasn’t happy.  Blaine seemed not to notice.
“I’m sure we could find you some of the movies you’d like,” Ricky said. “Wes has girl cousins who come up here to the cabin every summer.  Most the movies pulled out for the week are horror or action movies, you know…guys films…though, sorry.  I’m sure you’ll have time to watch other things though when we are doing the tournament video games later today and tomorrow.  There is a TV in the back room past the gym equipment since we use the TV room, the theater and the gaming room for tournaments, but it’s hooked up to a DVD player and the satellite.  Patrick and Felix are really the only ones who don’t participate in the tourney. Felix totally would but his brain won’t let him be in the room with video games for long.”
“I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Kurt said.
“Felix is the boy who looks like a clone of David.” Blaine said.  “Patrick is the red head without the huge mass of freckles.  Neil has the freckles.”
“Thanks, Blaine. Did I see Conner last night?” Kurt asked.  Conner was one of the non-warblers Kurt had been friendly with when at Dalton.  Blaine had hated him since.  Kurt had always thought it hilarious that Blaine hadn’t wanted to date him or notice Kurt’s crush on him but had bristled up like a dog protecting its bone whenever Kurt spoke with Conner.
Blaine growled. “Yes, he’s here with his boyfriend, Jake.”
“Cool, I’ll have to find him and catch up later.” Kurt said.
“Kurt, he is very serious about Jake.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Yes, Blaine. I’m sure he is.”  Kurt fiddled with the ring on his finger.   He and Conner had never been like that anyway…Conner wasn’t even out at the time to anyone and Kurt was who he’d approached about things. Kurt had once asked why he didn’t talk to Blaine and Conner had answered that he knew Blaine couldn’t keep a secret. Kurt had just nodded. “Who was the guy Nick was tal…”
“Come on, Blaine. Let’s go see if they’ve started the after lunch movie!” the dark haired guy said as he pulled Blaine towards the huge theater room that Kurt had seen on the way to the kitchen.
“Have fun later, Kurt!” Blaine yelled as he bounced after the others.
Kurt sighed at his questioning being interrupted. He went out to check out the trails in the woods to the north of the house.  He’d at least get hiking into his foiled camping trip.
Ten minutes of slow wandering into the woods on the largest trail and he could no longer hear the boys screaming and yelling at each other outside where they were playing basketball and tennis.  Five minutes after that several game trails broke off the path and Kurt decided to take one of those to see where it led.
It was a short trail, not more than about 100 to 200 steps. It led to a lovely clearing with a brook running through the back of it and wildflowers peeking through the carpet of old fallen leaves.  There were some great trees surrounding the clearing, huge green leaves making the light coming through dapple over the few evergreens.  Kurt brushed the leaves away, finding the ground mostly dirt under a copse of evergreens and birch and giving away to green grass which was trying to fight the dead leaves.
He made plans to come out the next day with his sketch book and pencils and possibly the camera before heading back to the house so he didn’t miss the trip to the shooting range.
It wasn’t all that late when Kurt got back, so he joined Jeff and Nick at the archery set up at the far end of the lawn.  He didn’t see Blaine anywhere.
Using the bows Wes had for everyone’s use was fun, but Kurt missed his own. When he complained Nick teased him.
“What,” Kurt said. “My dad’s cousin was ecstatic when he learned of my interest in bows.  Granted it started because I watched Robin Hood, but it was something he could work with in making a connection, you know. So when I outgrew my first bow, he took me and had a friend make me a longbow I could hunt with but would also look cool and be useful as a prop.  I also have a hand crafted recurve and he is trying to convince me to come to the dark-side and join his love of cross-bows.”
“You’ve hunted with a bow?” Nick asked.
“I’ve gone bow hunting.” Kurt said. “I try not to actually hit anything and my dad and his cousin’s family all promise not to tease me too much when I cry as they field dress Bambi.”
Jeff had to sit down because he was laughing so hard.
“You should have joined the archery team at Dalton.” Jeff said.
Kurt snorted. “Do you remember what happened when Drew’s tire went flat?”
Nick snorted.
“The day at the Lima Bean?” Jeff said.
“Yeah.  I offered to fix it and Blaine got all ‘You can’t do that. You don’t even like sports. You’ll mess up your hands. You’ll mess up Drew’s car. You’ll mess up your uniform. What makes you think you could actually fix a car?’ condescending about it, so I just called someone because Drew didn’t even know who usually looked after his car.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Nick said.
“I decided there that if Blaine wanted this fairy prince idea of me then who was I to ruin it?  He wasn’t listening to anything contrary to it anyway, why force the issue? I joined badminton as my sport, although I admit if the ballroom dance team had had an opening I might have considered that. I steered clear of those sports that Blaine considered too much for my delicate little self and just let it be.”
“So, you could have changed the tire?” Jeff asked.
“Jeff, my dad is a mechanic. We own Hummel’s Tires and Lube. I’ve known how to change a tire since I was 8…by myself for the most part.”
Nick laughed.
“But, Blaine says you work as a singing waiter.” Jeff said.
“I like that job.  I also work at Vogue.com.   My choice of jobs is one of those just because I can do it doesn’t mean I always want to do it things.” Kurt said.
Wes called them to head off before anyone could say anything more.
To Kurt’s surprise, there were 18 guys heading to the shooting range and two of the others had headed into town to pick up something for Wes.  Wes said the others were staying behind to work on projects and stuff for school.
Kurt worried Blaine would be bored, but decided to stick it out for a while.  He stayed about an hour, hitting about 2/3s of the clay discs during his turns.  He couldn’t call the time spent at the range a loss though; he’d spoken to Conner and met his Jake, who could not have been a better match for Conner if Kurt had been able to manufacture a boy for him.  He made plans to see them during the summer.  They were both at Yale.  He spoke and joked with Jeff and Nick some more.  He got to hang with David a bit, who oddly enough was not hanging with Wes as much as Kurt expected. It was great but he was still worried. He told Wes he was heading back to the house and waved goodbye to Nick and Jeff and David.
Kurt parked off to the side so others could get in and out easier when he got to the house and then headed in.   He pulled the SUV up off to the side of the trail he’d hiked down earlier.  He waved to Richards, who looked like he was starting dinner, as he entered into the kitchen and then went hunting to find Blaine.
Blaine wasn’t in the theater room.  Some horror film was playing, but Kurt didn’t see anyone in the room watching it.  He found one of the guys who’d been hanging around Jeff the night before in what Kurt had declared the library, surrounded by books and typing as fast as his fingers could fly.
The dark haired kid and Ricky were located in one of the Hot Tubs. Kurt saw them as he passed by and headed towards the game room.
The game room was empty, the inside gym was empty, the music room was empty. The laundry room was empty as was the formal dining room, the mud room, and the Kitchen…except for Richards. Kurt sighed and went to their room to get his IPod and go relax in the library with the guy working on his school work.
Their room wasn’t empty. The door wasn’t even shut.
Blaine was on the bed riding Edwin with more gusto than he’d ever shown while having sex with Kurt, and Edwin was calling him all sort of pettish type names that Blaine was simply eating up.  The kind Blaine got upset at Kurt for using.
Kurt turned and headed down the stairs to the kitchen and Richards’ peaceful presence.
“So,” Kurt said after watching the man for a while. “Are there any actual rules about doing actual camping on the property?”
“As far as I know, no one has ever considered it,” Richards said.
Kurt nodded.
“But you know of no rules against it?” Kurt asked.
“There are no tents or anything around.”
Kurt nodded. He headed outside to the trail he took earlier.  It was big enough for the ATV until the game trail.  Kurt pulled the ATV to the back of the SUV and went to the garage to swipe a few bungie cords.  He loaded the two coolers and the propane tank first and drove them to the game trail, unloading them and dragging them down the game trail until he reached the clearing. He drove back to the SUV and loaded the camp stove, the tent and a normal camp chair and the camp table. He drove those out to the game trail and took them one by one into the clearing.  He headed back to the house and wandered into the Kitchen again, asking Richards if he knew when the other boys would be back.
Wes had called and told Richards they’d be back in about an hour and to have snacks ready.  Kurt nodded and stayed to help make snacks, grabbing a few mini quiches before heading back out the door when Richards turned his attention towards dinner again.
Kurt loaded a tarp from the garage onto the ATV and sat the air mattress, the generator, the sleeping bags, blankets and pillows onto the tarp. He added the camp chair that reclined somewhat and had a foot rest to his pile. He loaded his art box and the bag of stuff from the kitchen, and finally the box with all the cooking and camping stuff he’d packed. He tossed the messenger bag with his laptop and camera in it over his shoulder and took off one more time down the trail.
After he moved everything into the clearing he’d tucked the messenger bag into the tarp bundle, secured with the bungee cords, and road back to the house.  He headed into the theater room and started a new movie, fast forwarding it to about 40 minutes into the movie.  He’d seen Men In Black enough to not have to worry about missing out on anything.
Jeff and Nick’s voices carried and Kurt hopped up and headed out to see the guys who’d just got back. Nick was once again having an animated discussion with a red head, but not either mentioned by Blaine. Jeff was looking a bit worried, but noticed Kurt and waved. Blaine and Edwin and Ricky and the dark haired guy were all in the Hot Tubs and Kurt made sure to wave as he went around back with the group coming in from shooting.
“Wes,” Kurt said siding up to him, “I’m going to go in and lay down.  I forgot to wear the earplugs while out at the range and have given myself a headache.”
Wes waved and nodded. “If you miss dinner, there is always food in the fridge.”
Kurt smiled and nodded to him.  Then he went up to the room and packed the few things he’d taken out back into the backpack and took the backpack downstairs, tucking it into the garage against the wall.
He went into the kitchen and grabbed more snacks and stuffed them into a baggie and grabbed some pain meds and a bottle of water. He waved to Richards. He went down the hall towards the stairs and the rooms, then turned back and ducked out a side door.
He fetched the backpack from the garage and ran to the trail, then happily and cheerfully hiked his way into the woods, to the game trail and into the clearing.  He sang as he went.
“Into the woods, It's time to go, It may be all In vain, I know. Into the woods- But even so, I have to take the journey.”
Kurt felt lyrics had never so rightly expressed his feelings.
Kurt spent the next two hours setting up camp to his liking, listening to the Into the Woods soundtrack as he worked. It seemed appropriate. The music made his task seem quicker and less lonely.  Singing made everything feel less tight.  It hadn’t been that way in a while. Kurt tried not to think about why.
Kurt counted his blessing as he set up as well. He had the tent to himself.  He had the air mattress to himself.  He had his pillows.  Everything would stay hair gel free.
He realized he was missing a few items, but by the time he’d decided he wanted those it was nearly dark. Kurt made himself an omelet again and a list of what he needed to get from the house.  He took stock of what he had food wise and what he’d need to make and eat first. He decided to deposit what he didn’t want into the fridge of the house the next day, but without feeding two he would still have plenty to go around.  Besides, first he had to see if he could make it through the night.  It would be the first night camping alone he’d ever done.
Kurt put on warm clothes and kicked back in his deluxe camp chair with one of the books until it got too dark.  Then he curled himself up in the sleeping bag nest he’d created with his laptop and watched one of the movies he’d put on it. When it finished, Kurt curled into his sleeping bag and bawled about everything until he fell asleep.
He slept through the night but woke early the next morning, which was fine by him.  He wanted in and out again with minimal contact.  He located the plastic wrap and wrapped all the meat he’d brought, except the frozen fish and a package of bacon, and tucked it into his emptied messenger bag.
Even hiking back to the house had him up and in the kitchen before anyone else. He tucked the food into the fridge and swiped one of the sleep masks that had been sitting in the cabinet that held the pain meds that Kurt had seen the night before.  Kurt headed into the garage, where he borrowed a pair of hedge clippers which he could also use to cut rope, rope and another tarp and an empty box that wasn’t too large.  He headed back into the kitchen and nicked a pack of frozen imitation crab, some butter cubes, and some fresh green onions and tomatoes and a bunch of fruit…bananas, oranges, grapes, pears, kiwis, berries.  He tucked into his bag some fancy cheese spreads and a box of fancy crackers and a small loaf of French bread.
He noticed a note on the fridge door that mentioned the showers in the pool house were open and people should shower out there as well so there wouldn’t be too much wait.
Kurt skipped back to his camp and then skipped back to the pool house shower with a change of clothes and his personal care items in tow.  The pool house not only had showers, but sinks and toilets as well. It was empty still, although he could now see movement up at the house.
Kurt was showered and back out towards his camp in fifteen minutes.
His day was blissful. He took photos of the brook and trees and flowers and all sorts of stuff, lovely detailed ones.  He was sort of planning out part of Carole’s Christmas gift if he could locate someplace to turn the photos into a calendar.
Kurt also spent time sketching.  He was taking set design over the summer and recalled from listening to those Apples who’d been in the class that those in the class were encouraged to get practice in sketching as many different environments as possible.  He drew flowers and mushrooms and trees and rocks, focusing on details in some pictures and the big picture in others.  He went on small hikes, following little trails here and there around his camp site.  He kept his ears open for anyone yelling his name.
He wrote and he practiced his vocal piece and his drama piece. He let his anger out at a spot on one of his mini hikes where a stream ran through what seemed to be rock walls and that had a lovey echo.  Kurt screamed and yelled and called Blaine all sorts of foul names and shouted curses upon him and his future generations, which was oddly satisfying.
Kurt went back to his camp for lunch, where he ate some of the pilfered cheese and fruit and drank specialty root beers. He packed into the small box all the food items that he couldn’t really use without a campfire…the makings for the Dutch oven peach cobbler, the marshmallows and s’mores ingredients, half the potatoes, the other items he’d bought for tinfoil dinners, and more than half the sodas.  He figured he’d just take those things back to the SUV, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with them at camp.
He settled down to read some more and then checked his email and Facebook and played around on the internet for  a while, plugging the external battery in to the generator and pedaling as it charged so he could watch movies again that night while he used the computer.  He decided to charge his phone while he read in the evening and his IPod while he read the next morning.
He fixed himself a fry-up for dinner, using half the bacon and some potatoes, cheese, onions, eggs and peppers.  He used a grocery bag he’d left stuff in to put the trash in and determined to take it to the house after it got dark.
Kurt dug out the flashlight he’d packed and took the trash, his personal care items, and the box to be taken to the SUV back to the house a bit after dark.  He went to the SUV first and put the box in the back.  Then he ditched the bag of trash in the outside dumpster. He saw a few people milling about, a few guys in the Hot Tubs and a few more by the fire pit.  He spoke to one of the guys he didn’t know who said most were in the house playing a video game tournament.  Kurt nodded. He headed to the pool house to shower and use the bathroom.  There were some things he was not doing in the woods unless he absolutely had to.
On the way out, he nicked several smaller trash bags from the box of the under the sink.
The night was spent peacefully curled up in his tent, without the crying of the night before. He’d put on the sleep mask, as well, so he actually slept a bit late.  Kurt wasn’t too upset about it.  During the night he decided he really wanted to play on one of the dirt bikes, so he figured he’d stick around for a bit and being seen wouldn’t be bad, unless it was Blaine…besides he hadn’t slept in that much.  It wasn’t even 8am yet.
Kurt skipped off to the pool house to do his morning routine…messenger bag in tow with clean clothes and his phone to take selfies on the dirt bike.
He slipped into the kitchen and found breakfast laid out, waffle batter to be put in the waffle makers and the goodies to top waffles with and decided to eat. Two waffles later, and a bowl of sugared peaches in cream later, Kurt skipped out the door to the dirt bikes. He was just barely hearing movement.  He wandered around the bikes and decided on a yellow one that was good height and engine size.  He fetched a helmet and jacket and took off on the bike to the area Richards had said was a bike course.
He was out on the bike for over an hour, going over the trails on the course three times a piece. He decided one of the first things he was doing when he got home was calling his dad and spending a whole lot of time apologizing for not letting him buy him one when he was younger.  He might need to send apology gift baskets to the guys his dad worked with as well.  He might not have become the racer they wanted but he would have loved one of these bikes.
He headed back to the house and met another of those guys he didn’t actually know as he was parking the bike.  After a quick exchange where Kurt gave directions to the bike course and the guy informed Kurt that no one was down at the pool house anymore, Kurt went off and quickly took another shower to remove the dust and sweat.  There were a few guys out down by the archery course, but Kurt didn’t see anyone else as he skipped on back to his camp.  There were three bikes gone and he could hear them somewhere off a ways though, so he figured the guy he spoke with went and dragged out some friends.
The rest of Monday consisted of pedaling to charge Kurt’s IPod while he sketched an absolute brilliant Robin Hood costuming idea making Robin Hood and his Merry Men not people who went to archery tournaments but people who competed on the Motocross circuit…ok, maybe not so brilliant but fun none-the-less, and as he was sketching for fun it didn’t matter. He decided to charge the external battery again since he was still sketching when the IPod was fully changed, and then the other battery for the lantern.
He made an imitation crab omelet with onions and tomato and peppers and mushrooms and cheese.  He was almost down to a dozen eggs from two dozen, but his cold foods were still cold, so he wasn’t all that worried.  He might have to go up and sneak some milk out in a day or so, but he’d worry about that when he got there.
After lunch and clean up, he settled into his chair for some more reading.  He’d finished the first novel and was starting the second.  With any luck he could get at least four of the five books he brought read.   By about four in the afternoon, with still no one calling for him, Kurt was starting to wonder about Jeff and Nick at the very least and why they hadn’t been asking after him.  Of course he hadn’t seen Jeff’s car that morning either, so maybe that had something to do with it.
By late evening, after Kurt had made himself some soup with chicken stock and potatoes, adding the rest of the bacon and the rest of the onion and pepper and mushrooms, he settled down to check his social media and watch a movie before sneaking back to the house.  Everything was fine. He hadn’t missed any calls or anything.
The trip to the house at just after 10pm was uneventful.  No one was outside at all, even though there was a fire in the fire pit. Kurt was washed and ready to head back to his camp, trash tossed, without having seen anyone.
He slept the night through without any problems, but forgot the eye mask so was up way early.  That was fine; he wanted to nick some milk anyway. Kurt picked up the empty water bottle he’d set aside for the purpose and tucked it in to his messenger bag.  The house was silent when he got there, however once again breakfast was waiting.  This time there was a huge pot of oatmeal and some absolutely heavenly looking scrambled eggs being kept warm in one of those containers used at like restaurant brunches.  
Kurt ate eggs, which were divine, and a small bowl of oatmeal with fruit and cream mixed in and honey for sweetener. He nicked a water bottle full of milk and a partially used block of Colby Jack and several little balls of mozzarella. He still had some of the spreads left.  He nicked a few bagels and a partially used tub of cream cheese and another small loaf of French bread.  He picked up a lemon from the basket of fruit, as well as a banana, some grapes, an apple, and the rest of three berry baskets from the fridge.  He also swiped more mushrooms, an onion, two bell peppers and a mostly used bag of spinach leaves.
His shower was quick and he was done before anyone else seemed to be up.  He decided to go hiking again after lunch and to bring his paints.
He spent the morning on his computer, looking at his classes needed and what he could take over the summer.  He planned on set design already, in fact was signed up for it.  There was a dialect course he thought would be fun and if he took it during summer, if wouldn’t interfere with his singing course, which he heard it could.  He decided to also do his vocal projection course, make-up arts, and one of the other history of theater courses.  That would give him a full load for summer, but an easier load than was carried for normal semesters.   He checked to see if he could register them yet…and he could, so he got that done. He emailed Carole, to let her know what days he wouldn’t be going to school over the summer…which included every Friday oddly enough.
Kurt fixed himself the left over soup for lunch, finishing it off with the bread and some of the Colby Jack.  He washed what needed washing and put together a small kit to take hiking…watercolor papers taped down onto cardboard rectangles that were small enough to easily carry, about six, his watercolor cake set…small but containing 12 colors, a water bottle for drinking and one for using with the watercolors, a plastic cup and a plastic palette. He tucked his IPod into his pocket and let the ear buds dangle and turned the music loud enough that he could hear.
He left his phone on the table where he’d packed.
He had a grand time. He found the most delightful mushrooms to paint and a set of wildflowers that were peeking above leaves that were still bright red and yellow.  He painted the little waterfall that cascaded between the rocks where he’d yelled earlier. He tried a little blue bird but he wasn’t sure he’d go so far as to call what came out a bird. Finally he painted a rock with moss all over it like a carpet.
He hopped and skipped back to the camp.  It had been ages since he felt so content.
His phone was shrilly ringing when he got back.  He looked at who was calling and saw Rachel’s number so ignored it.
He set out the paintings so they could dry even more and pulled out the fish so it could thaw enough to cook for his dinner. Then Kurt opened his laptop to Facebook.  He called his Dad right then.
Because apparently, Kurt was Lost In The Woods. He couldn’t hear anyone calling for him, but there it was spattered all over his Facebook page…he’d been lost in the woods for three days or maybe two…or maybe just one.  No one could recall seeing him…but some people said they had. But those people all said ridiculous things so obviously they were just saying stuff to make themselves feel important. Blaine noticed he was gone first…no Nick and Jeff did and Blaine was surprised…no Nick and Jeff are wrong, Blaine DID notice Kurt was gone first…if Blaine noticed then why was he surprised when Jeff asked about Kurt…on and on and on.
Rachel was in hysterics and said this was going to ‘ruin her big chance’ she was so upset.
Santana suggested they look for a trail of glitter dust.
Mercedes was wondering if she needed to head out to New York and cancel a show to do so and help look.
Mike asked if they had checked nearby camp grounds and was promptly told how silly he was and asked if he remember who was ‘lost in the woods’.  Mike responded that maybe they should all think about that same question a bit.
Puck asked if anyone had asked his dad or Carole if they had heard from him.  No one answered Puck.
Kurt sighed and turned off his computer. He plugged it into the external battery to charge.  He plugged his IPod into the pedal generator and his little external speaker and started to pedal. He called his dad again…who asked if he was safe and then said he really didn’t care as long as no authorities were called in.  Then asked why none had yet been.
Kurt said he didn’t know and that he was close enough to hear if anyone was actually looking for him or calling for him...and no one was.
“I mean seriously, Dad, I am a 10 minute brisk walk away from the house everyone is staying at. I was at the house this morning and there was no one even up. I spent the morning in my camp registering for school, sent Carole an email, and then spent the afternoon till I called the first time wandering around the woods, and not always deeper into the woods, stopping in places long enough to PAINT! No one has been out here looking.” Kurt nearly yelled.
“And you’re sure you’re warm enough?”
“I got hiking clothing, Dad. I could model for some catalogue like LLBean.” Kurt said with a sneer. “Granted there are a few pieces I might consider moving into my normal wardrobe…but most are too lumberjack chic for my tastes. I got lined jeans, Dad and they do nothing to enhance any sort of figure what-so-ever!”
Kurt smiled as he heard his dad’s laughed.
“What are you doing up there anyway?” his dad asked.
Kurt explained the magazine and how he totally misunderstood the word ‘camping’ in Blaine’s world.
“I’m not kidding; these guys seem to think staying in the house is camping…because they have a fire in the fire pit out back and do things like archery or go shooting and have dirt bikes and ATVs out for use.  It is ridiculous. I swear I made Jeff loose his capacity for speech when I said I had been shooting before, but never trap or skeet shooting…I went hunting. Luckily I did that while chatting the first night we got here and not while out shooting the bows at targets the next morning.  It would have been a shame to have shocked him so badly he took his bow shot when I mentioned hunting while at the bows; Jeff was so not being safe and would have probably hit one of the guys running about the yard at that time.”
“Anything good come about with this?”  Burt asked.
“I have reconnected with Jeff and Nick; I didn’t even know they were in New York.  I have reconnected with a few other of the Warblers. I have learned you can rent equipment from the Student Recreation Center and that NYADA has a Student Recreation Center, and it has this awesome climbing wall and a pool that is just open to students and staff and they do extra dance, fencing, stage combat, tumbling and classes like that for a low fee. I bought this absolutely awesome generator which had these pedals and you pedal on it to charge stuff, but it is easy to pedal, so you can just sit there and pedal as you read or such at the camp and you can charge things like your phone or IPod or tablets or charge external batteries which you can use to charge things like laptops…or a lantern.  I also bought a very nice lantern.  I figured both could be useful for emergencies, like if we lost power again, so I dipped into the emergency fund at the sporting goods shop…which did include clothing purchases but I’ll refund that money back into the emergency fund. Anyway, the sporting goods shop had this awesome first time student buyer discount of 50% and then another 20% discount for a single item. And their student discount is usually 30% off anyway, which is really good.  I have decided that Blaine is a cheating and lying piece of crap and not worth my time or effort.  Oh, and I would like to officially apologize for telling you ‘no’ when you offered me a dirt bike…I was a fool, those things are awesome.  I took out a 250cc four stroke and it was so fun. I didn’t even care the helmet messed my hair up.  I seriously should have let you talk me into that when little.”
“Back-up kiddo.  What was that about Blaine?” Burt asked.
Kurt sighed.
“I was willing to go ‘camping’ Blaine style when we got here, but he spared NO attention to me at all, except once to warn me off talking to an old friend…making it sound like I was the one who cheated and was after guys even though we are engaged…which I don’t think anyone there knows or pays attention to, even though the blasted engagement happened at Dalton.  So I came back from skeet shooting early and walked in on Blaine being screwed by someone else! So…I am done.  We have been fighting about everything since he moved back in, he gets mad at me every time I try to tell him anything like…oh, you should study, we have a huge test next week or we do need to go to class, it is kind of one of those things you do when you go to school, and he never listens to me, not about what I like to eat, not about what I’d like to watch, and not about not wanting to get married until after I have graduated! Then he is hanging with these guys and not telling me, lying about where he’s been or what he’s been doing, and now he’s fucking around and I’m done.”
“Oh, Kurt.  So that’s why you ended out on your own?” his dad asked.
“Yep.”
“And are you going to go tell them you aren’t lost?” his dad asked.
“Nope.  Not until someone comes yelling for me.  I’m not exactly hiding.  Or if the authorities come yelling for me, or in with the sirens…I’d be able to hear them I’m sure. We’re supposed to leave Friday afternoon so we’ll be back Friday night so Blaine can do some studying for finals week and get together his presentations and such. So if no one comes yelling before then I’ll break camp and then go borrow the ATV to move everything back to the SUV so we can go.”
“You telling Blaine you’re done then?” Burt asked.
“Not planning on it. I’m planning on right after finals week. That way his schooling disaster can’t be blamed on me…although it probably will anyway.”
“You are sure he’s going to fail?” Burt asked.
“Dad, we share 6 classes…he pulled strings to get into them.  I have done half my finals stuff already.  I spent weeks putting together presentations, picking and working on pieces, writing papers, practicing my dance stuff…although we don’t share that class.   I don’t think he has given any serious thought to any of it.”
“It’s ok, Kiddo. It is not your responsibility to make him do his work.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Well, I’m going to go make sure Carole doesn’t think you’re lost in the woods.  You take care and find something relaxing to do.”
Kurt leaned back in his camp chair, his feet stilling after his dad hung up. He really didn’t want to become ‘unlost’ until someone tried to find him, however he wasn’t sure he wanted to sacrifice his evening shower and tending to business either.  He also sort of wanted to see if he could figure out how come, if he was lost enough to shout about it all over Facebook, no one was looking for him and how come it took this long for anyone to notice he wasn’t around.
The first answer, of course was to see if he could figure out a more detailed timeline from Facebook.
Kurt popped open his laptop and got on Facebook.  He ignored the message box for the time being and just started looking at the feed.
At a bit after noon, Blaine posted on his wall about Kurt not being around and to stop calling him to talk to Kurt.  Jeff answered with ‘where the hell is he, since that was what you said last night as well’ and ‘if you don’t want me to call you to talk to Kurt, give me his damn phone number’. Jeff, who has check-ins at food places and such, was in NYC with Nick and Lenny… who was apparently Nick’s brother and who they had to rush back to NYC because he didn’t feel well and then who ended up having his appendix out. They had left right after Kurt had headed to the bedroom according to the posts on Nick’s Facebook page, which was oddly enough how he seemed to be communicating with his mother. Anyway, apparently Nick had wanted to ask Kurt something and was trying to get hold of him, but was busy and almost constantly on the phone with other family members and didn’t have his current phone number. So, Nick had Jeff calling Blaine…starting Monday afternoon. Jeff was apparently told consistently that Kurt was probably off in the bathroom and Blaine would have him call as soon as he got out, or outside and Blaine would have him call as soon as he got in, or sleeping and Blaine would have him call in the morning…or just not around that Blaine could see and Blaine would have him call as soon as he came around. The phones calls never last long because Blaine would then tell Jeff he was in the middle of something and then hang up on Jeff…no offer to take a message or anything.
Also a bit after noon, Jeff called Wes and asked if he could find Kurt and give him Nick’s number so he could call Nick since Blaine wouldn’t.  He also called David, to ask him to look for Kurt but David was in NYC as well, picking up one of their friends from the airport…whose flight had been delayed for 12 hours and so ended up in at 11am on Tuesday not 11pm on Monday, in fact when Jeff called they were still in the airport as even that time was late and they were still waiting for the luggage to be able to be picked up. David couldn’t remember seeing Kurt past the shooting range.  However, Blaine had also told David each time he asked that Kurt was hanging with Conner or with Jeff and Nick…because he didn’t like video games.  Jeff pointed out that he and Nick had been gone since right after they got back from the shooting range, Kurt wasn’t hanging out with them.
Wes called Nick, since Jeff was on the phone with David, and told him he couldn’t find Kurt.  And that Blaine couldn’t actually seem to remember the last time he’d seen him.
Nick posted up a note on Kurt’s Facebook page asking Blaine how he could treat his fiancé like he was. Jeff posted a note asking any of Kurt’s friends if he’d been in touch. Wes asked why Nick thought Kurt and Blaine were engaged…and found out about Blaine’s proposal at Dalton and that they hadn’t even been dating again for two full days and about how many people were there and then started questioning Blaine…still over Kurt’s page…about that situation. Blaine had said nothing other than hadn’t he done a fabulous job at making such a grand display.
Wes posted that supposedly some people had seen Kurt, with the dirt bikes or walking around by the pool house showers…but Blaine posted that the dirt bike story was obviously stupid…didn’t they know Kurt? Of course he refused to answer when asked when he’d seen Kurt last.
Then Wes posted that no one could find Kurt and did that mean he was lost?  And when did he get lost?  And how could no one notice Kurt was missing?
And Kurt’s Facebook page exploded into chaos when his Lima friends all started commenting…none except maybe Mike and Puck in any manner that helped.
Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed. David posted that he and Ravi, the friend he was picking up, would be on their way and some people had a whole lot of explaining to do. Jeff and Nick posted that they would be up in the morning, however they still couldn’t leave until Nick’s mom got back to look after Lenny, who was apparently hopeless and didn’t even have a single friend who could be trusted not to screw up his recovery.
Still, no one at the house right now was looking for him. He figured that he’d walk down and decide then if he was going to risk the shower and toilet or not.  However, dinner was calling and he deserved something good.
The fish had thawed enough to be fried up and Kurt seasoned it with the lemon and some butter.  He ate some fruit and the bagel and cream cheese. He broke out another of the fancy sodas. He washed up.  He gathered the used water bottles and tucked them into a bag he was using for recycling. He gathered the trash and put it in another. He plugged the external battery into the generator yet again and peddled while reading his novel until it was too dark to read anymore. He switched out items to be charged half way through and charged his IPod.  His phone was still fine.
At nearly midnight, Kurt took his bag with his stuff in it and walked down to the house. He’d probably hit things just right, David had just pulled in when Kurt hit the tree line. Kurt leaned against a tree to watch and gather information which he hoped would shed some light on his ‘disappearance’ and the lack of hunting for him.
“Would you like to explain what the Fuck is going on?” David yelled  at Wes who had exited the house as David stood from behind the driver’s seat.
“I don’t know.” Wes said. “All I know is that when Jeff called at about one-ish, and I went to ask Blaine where Kurt was, Chez got all huffy and yelled at me because Blaine was getting grouchy and not being as fun since Jeff kept calling.  He and Ricky were hanging in the exercise room and said Blaine wasn’t with them, so I left to look for him, however Blaine and Edwin were there when I walked back by like two minutes later. I asked Blaine where Kurt was…he said he was probably with Conner.  I found Conner, who hadn’t seen Kurt since the shooting range...nor had Jake. Conner said he thought Kurt and Blaine had been together tucked up in their room enjoying their time together, since that was what Kurt thought the week was for and since he hadn’t seen either.”
“I went back to ask Blaine why Conner thought he and Kurt would be tucked up together and who else might Kurt be hanging with, but I couldn’t find any of the four, so I just started asking about Kurt.  Rocko was certain Kurt was the one who told him about the dirt bike trails. Lex thought he’d talked to Kurt Sunday night about how everyone was up playing video tournaments still so the shower was free. No one else can recall seeing him around. So, I asked Blaine if he knew if Kurt’s stuff was in the bedroom or not…after hunting him and Edwin and Ricky and Chez back down…this time to the hot tubs. He said he didn’t know … he hadn’t looked. I asked when he saw Kurt last.  He shrugged and said he hadn’t been to their room since Sunday afternoon really, just long enough to get some clothes so he could bunk down with Edwin and Ricky and catch up with them. So I asked if he realized no one had seen Kurt since Saturday afternoon, did he see Kurt after he’d gone up to bed with his headache? Blaine said he hadn’t even known Kurt had gone up with a headache, he’d slept on the floor of the movie room after watching movies all night long with Edwin and then didn’t look for Kurt because Kurt is always up early so of course he wasn’t in the room when Blaine went and got his clothing and such on Sunday.”
“So Kurt’s been missing since Saturday Night?” David yelled.
“Well, maybe?” Wes said.
“Where have you looked?” David shouted again.
“Umm….”
“Wes?” David’s voice dropped very low and dark.  Ravi, or at least that was who Kurt assumed had also climbed out of the car was, laughed.
“The house?” Wes said. “Look, It’s not my fault.  I kept asking around if people had seen Kurt and Conner found out I was asking around about Kurt so he took off to find Blaine and then all of a sudden it was like world war three! I don’t know if anyone but Felix doesn’t have blood on them somewhere! You had been calling and everyone was antsy and so when Conner found Blaine and started screaming at him everyone just joined in….then Chez threw a punch at Jake when Jake said something about boyfriends and then others started throwing punches and when Richards finally blew the blow horn and everyone stopped, you had a bunch of guys who were just caught in the middle and then one side who said Blaine was engaged to Kurt and were screaming about that and one side who kept insisting the other was delusional, after all Blaine was with Edwin, didn’t we all know that? It was insane.  People even ended up going to the ER. So we had to spend hours patching people up and stopping the little fights that keep breaking out here and there and our friends from college are all stressed at being caught in the middle. Most of the guys have calmed somewhat, since Jake took Conner off to the ER and Brent went with them, he thinks he might have fracture his foot. Except Rocko, who seems to still want to tear Blaine limb from limb.”
“Blaine isn’t with Edwin.” David said.
“Yes he is.” Wes said. “They’ve been an item since Edwin saw Blaine perform at the old lady’s showcase….the one we left early.”
“The one you left early. The rest of us stayed, remember? We wanted to talk to Kurt but Blaine took Kurt off someplace before we could, well…I wanted to talk to Kurt. And Felix wanted to meet Kurt.  Blaine announced Kurt as his fiancé there.”
“Don’t be silly, David. I was with Blaine and Edwin the next day and they decided to see each other then.”
“Like it would matter at all to Edwin if Blaine was engaged or not.” David said “I am not kidding, Wes. Kurt and Blaine are engaged.”
“No, Blaine is with Edwin. They go out about three times a week in the evening. They hang out on weekends during the day.  And Edwin’s not as wild as he used to be, he promised he’d stopped the behavior that got him suspended way back then.”
“And you believed him. He never changed, Wes. He just stopped screwing with kids with enough clout to do anything about him. When did Blaine and Kurt break up?” David asked, throwing his hands in the air.
“I don’t know.”
“And where does Blaine live?” David asked.
“He lives with Kurt, remember?  He moved in when Kurt’s roommates left…” Wes said.
“Ok.  So…you know Kurt…do you think Kurt would have Blaine move in with him after they broke-up recently?” David asked, very slowly.
“Well, no.” Wes said. “but maybe it wasn’t recent?”
“Ok…Let’s play with that idea.  So…we all know and accept that Kurt and Blaine broke up early October of Blaine’s senior year, right?” David asked, still drawing out the sentence like he was talking to a very small child.  Kurt had his bag up to his face to stifle any laughter.  The guy David had brought with him wasn’t even trying.
“Yes.  Trent said Blaine was devastated.” Wes said.
“Did he? Huh, Sebastian said Blaine was only upset when he wasn’t chasing that blond kid Sam around and if people mentioned Kurt.”
“Well, Sebastian is an ass, besides, how would he know?” Wes said.
“Yes, well Blaine spent months and months with Sebastian the year before on the phone and at coffee shops and skyping and texting and going to Country Club gatherings together, so I figure he probably knows Blaine’s behavior well.”
“He drugged them!” Wes shouted.
“Hunter, the guy YOUR godfather brought into the school, drugged them.  Sebastian was one of TEN who were completely clean, and it was Sebastian who brought forth the evidence after Blaine and Sam took their story to the board and nearly got all of them expelled and jailed. Including the blackmailing and threats Hunter was using against half the kids he was drugging. The other half…the ones not being blackmailed or threatened… were your godfathers minions brought in to prop up Hunter.  Besides, the reason Sebastian knew how Blaine was acting is because Sebastian’s role in Hunter’s regime was to keep tabs on Blaine, so they could either get him back like YOU wanted or nullify the threat that several saw Blaine as, for some reason.”
Wes growled. “I thought you said you agreed with me about everything that went down.”
“Again, you weren’t listening. I have argued with you about this since we graduated and I met older Warblers, ones who weren’t under your Godfather’s reign of terror. I argued with you THEN that you needed to go to the school and replace YOUR council choice when Blaine left, which you refused to do because if you couldn’t have Blaine replace you, you didn’t want anyone else to take his spot.  I agreed we should have set up the council more solidly before we left…I should have listened to others and picked a choice truly my own instead of following your advice… and we should have drilled Blaine on his intentions before summer.  He was talking about leaving before he left to his summer job, he wanted a Nationals title.”
“He went for Kurt.” Wes said. “Thad said so.”
“And the Warblers who weren’t so enthralled with him to let him push and shove them around said he spoke about Kurt’s old Glee Club and nationals and the opportunities that Kurt’s school would provide him with, including being top of his class without much work and main lead vocal of a winning choir that was not acapella and thus would allow him to shine more.”
“Because they were jealous.”
David rolled his eyes and his whole head.  “I forgot how much of a Blaine worshiper you were and how all your brains leak out your skull when he comes up or is nearby.  Is he good, Wes?  There has to be some reason you are so up his ass!” David asked.
Wes nearly flew at him with the intent to hit him when the guy with David grabbed his arm.
Kurt watched the whole bit with wide eyes.  Suddenly a lot of Warbler things made a whole lot more sense, like why the talk always seemed to not quite match the actions. And why although a great deal of the school worshiped the ground the boys walked on, there was a substantial subsection that did not and who Blaine kept Kurt away from very aggressively.
“Don’t forget, Wes,” the other guy said in an accented voice that Kurt couldn’t quite place. “I learned a lot the year I spent working for the headmaster while we figured out finances for my third year of University. I watched you let that boy cheat off you his full first year. You handed him papers you had done and walked him through changing them just enough. You gave him solos over everyone else every time he hinted he wanted one.  You let him pick the music, even though his choices took us out of competition. David might have guessed you favored the boy…but I know and have proof.”
“How dare you Ravi!” Wes yelled. “Besides the reason you had financial issues was because your family was caught laundering money.”
“An uncle through my great great great grandfather was laundering money. It just took a year to prove we had nothing to do with him and hadn’t for decades.”
“So, it soiled your name. You have no room to speak or nothing to say!”
“You forget, Wes.  The Warblers existed before you and our gatherings and traditions existed before you and even with the taint that has befallen them…taint attached to YOU and YOUR family…they will exist long after you die!”
“We were going to make them great!” Wes said.  “Bring glory to Dalton again.”
“They are no longer on the show choir circuit. And we were great.  MY sophomore year we took nationals at acapella, when it was a true acapella group. They will be again.  We have instructors taking over who will not let the chaos you and your kin introduced during your years on the council remain. When things have been restored, the council will be brought back.”
“Yes, well….none of this has anything to do with right now. And I don’t see why we are arguing about this again David.” Wes said, leaning back into a sullen stance with his arms crossed over his chest.
David sighed. “We will argue this every time it comes up until you acknowledge what you have done, Wes. I understand the whole ‘legacy’ issue, but your family abused it and used your godfather’s appointment as Head of Student Activities to run rampant over everyone else.  You cost other members their legacy appointments to the council, Wes.  You all obstructed the traditions of the council and the Warblers.”
“My Godfather promised my Grandfather that all of us would hold our rightful places for a long as we wanted.  Father and Uncle Lawrence just made sure of it.  They all resented that they could only claim one year of council. Grandfather doesn’t care if other legacy children lost out.  None are as important as we are.” Wes said.
Ravi chuckled. “Your godfather has lost his position as head and is now coordinator of intermural sports. Your younger cousins and younger brother will not be on a Warbler council, either.  Your junior year, a young man came and requested a council voice, do you recall? The first year Blaine was there?”
“Yes, blond kid. Didn’t want to claim his spot yet, which he insisted he should have without anything to back that insistence up, but wanted a council voice on song choice.” Wes said.
“Yes.  Edgar Dalton.  You refused and instead gave Blaine input.  Blaine bragged about it.  Edgar stopped attending meetings and then moved schools during winter break. Your insult was excused, as Edgar believed the tradition of a single year of council membership was being observed and as he hadn’t forcefully explained who he was.  The next year, when you were still on the council, his father brought up issues and started a search to find other insults and aggravations. Your godfather’s introduction and backing of Hunter was his last mistake. Dalton wanted him roasted, but the Headmaster and Board decided quiet removal of power was better. Your family was important due to funding and legacy, but no more really than many others. They should have remembered that.”
Wes growled. David snorted.
“I can’t believe you would support those people over me, David. Your best friend!” Wes shouted.
“Yes, best friend…who didn’t speak with me after I told you to make a new council appointment when Blaine skipped out for over a year.  I connected with Ravi and others at Yale, like I was told to when I graduated from Dalton and found out a lot that we had lost.  Much of which I was sad we had missed out on.”
“We thought it unnecessary for our goals, David.” Wes said.
“Goals never shared with the rest of the Warblers or your fellow council members. Shall we get back to the topic? Are we agreed that Blaine and Kurt got engaged in March at Dalton, before Blaine graduated?”  David asked.
Wes huffed. “Since it seems half the guys knew about it, then I guess. But I didn’t know about it and am still not sure it really happened.  They could have misinterpreted it.”
“But something happened and Blaine and Kurt were together again?” David said.
“Fine, Sure.”
“So…When did they break-up again? And if they are broken-up…why does Blaine live with Kurt and how in the world do you think KURT would ALLOW that?” David asked.
Wes just looked at him.
“Yeah, I thought so.” David said.
“I didn’t say you were right!” Wes said.
“But you can provide no logical answer.” David said.
“I still think there is some logical explanation and that Blaine wouldn’t do that.” Wes said.
“Well, I suggest you do the logical thing then and march on into the house and ASK Blaine the status of his and Kurt’s relationship and then figure out where Kurt is…because I don’t know about you, but Kurt’s dad will not be happy if he has to come out here to find his son and YOU have done nothing and I for one want to have some sort of answers for him.” David said.
“Kurt’s dad isn’t very wealthy and is in Ohio. Why should it matter?” Wes said.
Ravi started to laugh and David took a huge breath and sighed.
“Kurt’s last name is Hummel. Like…Burt Hummel?” David said.
“And?” Wes said.
“And you are fucking flunking all your courses, aren’t you?  Or did you switch majors?” David yelled.
“I don’t see why you are yelling again, David.” Wes snapped.
“Congressman Burt Hummel?” David said.
“Don’t be silly,” Wes said. “That is not Kurt’s dad.  He was something like a plumber or electrician or something.”
Kurt smothered another laugh as David started to slowly slam his head against the top of his car.
“Like a mechanic, possibly?” Ravi asked.
“Yeah!”
“Like Congressman Burt Hummel is?” Ravi asked.
“Is he?” Wes asked.
“Yes.” Ravi said.
“Oh. Ok…fine. Let’s go inside and figure out what is up and see what we need to do and like maybe talk to people more and like build a time line?  But stop picking on me!  You can’t treat me like this in front of the others.  It is just not right and it’s not fair.”
“Fine.” David said.
“We’ll see.” Ravi added.
David popped the trunk and Ravi went and grabbed a large duffle bag from within.  Then they all headed to the house.  Kurt moved forward a little bit farther and could see that most people still up seemed to be in the large dining area that was off the kitchen. He figured the others were probably asleep.  He moved across the yard to the side of the house and then snuck towards the back.  No one was out at the hot tubs. Kurt ducked into the pool house, which was also blissfully empty. He showered and did his night routine.
He made it back to his camp without notice.  His sleep was not nearly as restful as it had been the nights before, but he finally settled into a deep sleep.
It was late when he got up.   It was nearly 10am.  Kurt grumbled, but went about getting ready for the day at the camp.  There was no way he could get to the pool house for a shower without being noticed that late in the morning. He ate breakfast; fruit and yogurt and a granola bar he crushed up on top.  Kurt pulled out his laptop and checked his email. He had a note from the school saying his registration was official and a note from Carole saying she’d marked his days off and would figure out a time for them to visit and for him to visit and to have fun being lost. No one else had emailed him. He decided not to deal with Facebook or any other social media site.
He gathered the last of the cheeses and the last of the breads and bagels, some fruit and trail mixes and two bottles of water for his lunch and then set out into the woods with the camera to take more pictures.  If a great deal of his late morning adventure took place near the edge by the yard of Wes’ place, it was surely a coincidence. Really.
He found wildflowers he hadn’t seen yet that he got pictures of and some cool close up of trees and bark and strange knots and light filtering through leaves.  He took close-ups of as many different mushrooms as he could find, thinking of trying to use photo shop to make himself a woodland elf…or maybe a fairy.  He took photos of the few moths he saw; surprised any were out yet at all. Finally he found a little tiny clearing where he could see and hear what was going on in Wes’ yard and settled down to eat …and spy.
Again his luck held. Jeff drove up as he was eating his banana.
“Where’s Kurt?” He yelled as he got out of the car.
David came out of the garage, holding a clipboard.  “Where’s Nick? What time did Nick first call?”
“Nick left about an hour and half before I did, but he had errands to run.  He’ll probably be about another half hour. Nick called Blaine Sunday night about 8pm.  Kurt had said something about a place he works that has singing waiters and Nick’s mom said since her vacation was being cut short, she was bringing some of her girlfriends back with her and wanted fun things to do that were not the usual. Nick wanted more info about that place.  Where’s Kurt?”
“I am trying to format a timeline.  It is nearly impossible.  Would Kurt ever ride a dirt bike?” David asked.
“I don’t see why not.” Jeff said.
David nodded as he marked something down.
“I think he left when he said he was going to go lay down.  You guys left right after that. Someone might have talked to him Sunday night, but they aren’t certain.  It doesn’t help that it was one of Wes’ friends from university and it was dark and everyone is stupid because when he described the boy he talked to they all insisted it couldn’t be Kurt because the guy’s hair wasn’t all fancy. If Kurt had hidden somewhere I doubt he was doing his hair all that much.” David said.
“He left Saturday?”
“However if Wes’ friend saw him and if it was indeed Kurt Rocko talked to, then he was seen Sunday night and Monday morning.”
“Still,” Jeff said. “That is a whole two days without contact!”
“Wes thinks Blaine and Edwin are dating.” David said.
“Kurt and Blaine are engaged.” Jeff said.
David nodded.
“Blaine didn’t go to the shooting range with us.  He stayed here with Edwin and Ricky and their shadow.  Kurt left the range early to come back and check on him.  Blaine cheated on Kurt less than a month after Kurt left for New York.  That was the reason they broke up.  If Kurt walked in on something, he’ll be devastated.” Jeff said.
David nodded.  “I spent the evening and morning watching Blaine. He is doing something with Edwin and maybe even with Ricky and Chez.”
“Shit.” Jeff said. “Have you asked Richards if he saw anything unusual?”
David’s head snapped towards Jeff. “No….and Kurt would be someone who would speak to him.  Let’s go.  We haven’t really searched the house either.  Ravi and I got in past midnight and have had a hard time getting anyone even moving this morning.  Lunch is breakfast.  Seriously no one was even awake other than Ravi and I until half past 10 and Wes said we couldn’t fuss around and look about until everyone was up.”
“What do you expect, they are all camping.” Jeff said. “Hmm…has anyone asked Blaine what he explained about camping here to Kurt?”
“No.” David said. “Wes wouldn’t let us disturb him and he did not come out of the room he was in with Ricky and Edwin and Chaz until about 10 minutes before you got here. He was ‘too upset’ over the big fight last night.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Let’s go do those two things. Nick is going to want some solid answers when he gets here and as stressed as he has been the last week, I suggest we have something.”
Jeff and David walked back to the house and Kurt moved back to his camp.  He left his electronics tucked away and pulled out his book.  He sat in his deluxe camp chair and put his feet up. If his peace was going to crumble, he was going to get the most use of it he could.  He did start timing.  It took another 40 minutes before Nick got to the house, and Kurt, even as far into the woods as he was, heard the ruckus.  He couldn’t hear the words but he could hear the sound and tell it was an angry sound.   The wall of noise lasted only about five minutes. Kurt walked over to his drink cooler and pulled out one of the specialty sodas and settled back into his chair to wait on being found.  He just hadn’t decided if he was going to answer when he first heard voices or wait till they came pretty much to him.
In the end the calling of his name didn’t start until he could hear voices.  He heard the arguing first, in fact.
“I can’t believe it took you all so long to ask the butler dude.” A voice that sounded familiar but Kurt couldn’t quite place said.  “I’m pretty sure Kurt said he met Blaine at a posh private school with great academics.”
Kurt was trying to figure out who he knew that he wasn’t expecting to be around here that he’d talked about Dalton who might possibly bother to show up to find him.
“Well, we never claimed what Kurt would call street smarts,” Jeff said.
“Mostly Kurt would say we all lacked logic as well.” Nick added dryly.
“Yes, well I would have to agree, at least for half the guys I’ve met so far.” The voice Kurt hadn’t placed quite yet said.  Then the voice shouted and Kurt could hear it more clearly.
“Kurt!  Kurt!”
“It’s Elliot!” Kurt said out loud, jumping up from his chair and putting his book on the table as he passed it on the way to the game trail leading out of the clearing and to the main trails.
“Kurt!” Jeff and Nick joined with Elliot in shouting.  Kurt could see them coming around the bend to the section of the trail where the game trails branched off.  
“Elliot!” Kurt shouted back, waving his arms so the guys could see him at the edge of the trail where his path broke off at.  
Elliot broke into a run and swept Kurt into a hug, while Nick hurried over as well. Jeff followed a bit more slowly, on his cell phone.
“David said he’s glad you’re located and he’ll tell Richards.  He hadn’t decided if he’s telling Wes yet.  I think he is starting to enjoy the panic Wes is getting in as Richards reminded him that if you aren’t found by tonight they’ll have to call his parents and inform them a kid went missing on the property.”
Kurt chuckled. “Come on back.”
Kurt led them down his little path into his campsite.
Nick started laughing.
Elliot joined in.
“What’s funny?” Kurt asked.
“I told them that you’d have no problem camping, but that you’d also have it set up as nice as a hotel room.” Elliot said.
“Your camp chair has the ability to be a recliner!” Jeff said.
“You’ve been cooking out here?” Nick asked, poking around the edge of the table by the camp stove and peeking into coolers.  
“Yes.”
“Haven’t you got bored?” Jeff asked.
Kurt shrugged. “Not really. I have been reading some novels I’d hoped to read during dead week, I’ve been out hiking and taking photos and making sketches. I have my IPod, and cell phone with games, and my laptop with movies and internet. I have been up to the house every day except today, twice a day pretty much. I would not have been good company.”
“So, I’ve got to know,” Nick asked.  “Did you take out the dirt bike?”
“Yes!  That was so much fun.  When I called my dad yesterday I apologized to him.  He wanted to buy me one when little and I always said no.” Kurt said.
“Wes owes us 20 bucks a piece.” Jeff said.
“Why wouldn’t you have been good company?” Elliot asked.  He’d been looking around the camp site, peeking into the tent and flipping through the sketch book Kurt had had sitting on the table.
“I walked in on Blaine being fucked by one of his pals.” Kurt said.  “I know if I have to look at him, I will not be able to keep the scathing lecture I desire to unleash upon his being to myself and I have decided that it is best delivered a bit more private than in front of several dozen other guys whom Blaine desires to maintain a good image with.”
“Oh, Kurt.” Elliot said softly. Elliot held out his arms and Kurt rushed into them.
Jeff and Nick wandered around the campsite pretending to look at things in detail while Kurt cried in Elliot’s arms.
Kurt’s tears weren’t as long lasting as any of the other expected.  He removed himself from Elliot’s hug and wiped his face with his sleeve, before apologizing to everyone.
Jeff and Nick just shrugged.
“So,” Kurt said. “I suppose I have to be found.”
Jeff looked at Nick who tilted his head in thought. “Found yes, but I don’t know if that means you have to come back to the house…” Nick started.
“I mean,” Jeff continued. “At least not to stay.  I know David would be really glad to see you and he really wants you to meet some of the other’s up there.  Ravi, in particular seems to be highly interested in you.  And I think Rocko would like to formally meet you as well.”
“Rocko?” Kurt asked.
“Yeah, the guy you apparently talked to about the dirt bikes.” Nick said.
“But Rocko?”  Kurt asked.  ‘That just so does not sound like a name from Dalton.”
Jeff laughed. “Oh my God, I forgot you missed Rocko’s years there.  He graduated the year before you got there. But you are right.  We were actually penalized for use of Rocko’s first name.  Everyone was commanded to call him Mr. Rochester.”
“His name is Rocko Rochester?”
“Rocko Rude Rochester. The headmaster couldn’t handle people calling him by his middle name either.” Nick added.
Kurt shook his head. “What were his parents thinking?”
“His folks are rich, not smart.” Nick said.  “They named his sister Bunny Muffin.”
“Anyway, as long as you came up to the house a few times a day and maybe sleep up at the house and were seen you could maybe be allowed to stay out here for the most part.” Jeff said.
“I’m fine out here for sleeping.” Kurt said.  “It’s actually quite comfortable.”
Kurt walked the three over to the tent and unzipped the door.
“The air mattress in the one Sam slept on at the loft, so Blaine has slept on it several nights when he opted to stay out with Sam instead of with me. Blaine is not one to forgo his creature comforts, as I’m sure you all know.  I have plenty of covers and pillows.  I have plenty of food, in fact I haven’t even broke out the camp food yet.  I have books and my laptop has movies and games uploaded to it.  I even had card and board games to bring, but I left those in the SUV when I realized it was going to be just me out here.”
“I could stay out here, too.” Elliot added. “I mean I will need a ride back to the City at some point and I didn’t plan on making anyone take me back until the weekend.  I know Blaine would be much happier if I were not up at the house.  So, Kurt wouldn’t be alone.”
“And we could bring camp chairs out here from the house.  There were tons more tucked in the garage and I have three more in the SUV, another one like the one out here and then two basic ones like the one by the table in case we had to hike to the camp spot too far. They are lighter. People who wanted to could come out here and hang.” Kurt added.  “I mean, we could certainly bring anyone actually worried out here to see the set up.  They could make certain themselves.  I just….I don’t really want to be up at the house around Blaine for long periods.”
Nick and Jeff nodded. “At least come to the house and talk to David.  I would say talk to Wes, but he’s being an ass.  I’d think David would probably see your point.” Jeff said.
“I bet no one would argue with you staying out here if you can convince Richards you are safe and well.” Nick added.  “If he knew exactly where you were at, any legal type issues would probably be covered as well, you know, in case any of the other guys like called their folks or something.”
Kurt sighed and rubbed his forehead. He really didn’t want to spend too much time anywhere where Blaine might be. “Fine. Let’s go now.”
Elliot walked over to Kurt and draped his arm over his shoulder. “Isn’t there anyone up there you’d like to see?”
“I guess Conner is still there, and I did want to spend more time with Nick and Jeff.” Kurt said. “Let me grab my phone and put things away.”
Kurt put his book and all his art materials away in the tent.  He grabbed his phone and his soda.
“So, I heard there is an epic music room up at the house.” Elliot said as the guys all headed back to the main trail. “We could give them all a little show.”
Kurt chuckled. “Elliot, pretty much every guy in that house sung with the Warblers at some point.  We could try to give them a show but they would join in.  Seriously…these guys…they could just stop a whole school for performances.  No one fussed!  It was magical to me.”
“Those were the ones who sang A Capella, right?” Elliot asked.
“Yes.”
“Yes!  We need to find the beatbox…I have something I’ve always wanted to try.”
“You have your pick,” Nick said.  “There should be three at the house.  There are some non-warblers at the house though, like Conner and Felix. And a few friends from different universities that aren’t even associated with Dalton. Not everyone will butt in on your jam session.”
“But enough will.” Kurt said. “Although, not many will try to take lead…so we are more likely to end up with background music than fighting for the front and center spots, especially if it is obvious we are just trying things out and not practicing for something that lots of people will be watching. Hmm…remind me to call my dad when we get back to the house.”
“So, I know you know Nick and Jeff here, and from what they have said you know the Wes kid whose family owns this place and David…who I think was one of the guys who we met out front?”  Elliot said, looking to Jeff.  “And of course Blaine.  Who else do you know?”
“Yes, David was the African- American who met us out front.  He was with Ravi, who Kurt doesn’t know.  Ravi graduated a few years before Kurt was there. Wes hasn’t ever liked him because Ravi made it into the Warblers as a first semester freshman and was front man for two years. Wes didn’t make it in until the end of his freshman year and all he heard was about how Ravi made it as a first semester freshman and his making it as a freshman wasn’t that big of a deal.  Of course Wes made it in just to be immediately put on the council and started putting in a dozen or so freshman a year so we wouldn’t have such a hard time keeping numbers and training singers so…” Jeff trailed off and Kurt answered.
“Hmm…I know Conner and I’d seen his boyfriend at the school, but never met him.  He was the same year as Blaine and not into music much. I think that one dark haired baritone that Blaine would not let me speak to at all who was in David’s and Wes’s year was there.”
“Braydon.  Blaine didn’t like him.  He thought Blaine was given too much leeway and too much focus. He also thought Wes was an idiot for not taking advantage of having a countertenor in the group. There were about four of the older guys like that.”  Nick said.
“That explains a lot.” Kurt said. “I always wondered why Blaine would not let me near some of the guys. Heck, Thad was seriously the only one my age I was ever introduced to and he did a good job of making sure I didn’t meet too many other kids my age while there.  I hung around with Blaine and his crew and was handed into Wes’s care when Blaine couldn’t be with me.”
Jeff nodded. “Wes and Blaine were very proprietary about song options and so wanted to keep you and what you could do away from the others who didn’t think they should be so controlling and then there were a few who wanted to get to know you well enough to date you and Blaine hated that idea too.” Jeff added.
“Even though he didn’t want to date me?” Kurt asked.
“Oh, yes.  Blaine couched it in terms of not wanting you scared or harassed or bothered after your horrifying trials in McKinley, but most of us knew Blaine long enough that was understood it was also one of those ‘this is mine and not yours’ things.  Blaine is very possessive of his people…friends or relationships.”
“It was horrid the year before you came when he was a freshman, because he decided that Jeff was HIS friend and would not let me or Trent talk to him for about half a year, even though we’d known Jeff for years before that.” Nick said.  “I had to sneak Jeff into my room while Blaine was supposed to be doing his homework to spend any time with him!”
“We resorted to weekends at either mine or Nick’s.  In the end it worked out for the best though…Blaine was soooo mad when we got together before Valentine’s day that year and I kept answering his ‘Jeff is MY friend’ statements with ‘but I’m Nick’s lover boy’.” Jeff said.
“So his ridiculous tantrum at me wasn’t an oddity.” Elliot said.  “I don’t know if I feel better or worse knowing that.”
“No,” Kurt said. “I probably ought to have told you that long ago.”
Kurt sighed as he could see the edge of the tree line up ahead.  Elliot reached over and grabbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“It will be fine.” Elliot said.  “I’ll stick by you and if Blaine tries to start anything, I won’t let him.”
Jeff snorted. “I bet Blaine doesn’t even show.”
“He was holed up in the bedroom you two were supposed to have with Ricky, Edwin and Chez when we started out looking for you.” Nick added.
“So Chez is the dark haired one who whines?” Kurt asked.
“Oh yes.” Nick said. “He is actually your age, but he was tossed out of Dalton at the end of Blaine’s freshman year, so he wasn’t around during the time you were there.  He had a fondness for destruction…the cupboard that held half our sheet music and the loss of tons of sheet music was the final straw for him. And what got him tossed.  He was mad because some girl told him no when he asked for a date.”
“Huh.” Kurt said. “I always thought you all didn’t have to deal with that kind of thing.”
Nick shrugged. “Oh we didn’t have to deal with bullying in the physical or blatantly vocal sense, but other stuff we still had to deal with. You were actually there at a good time. We’d had a mass amount of kids thrown out the year before when they cracked down on the rules and regulations and kids refused to deal with that.  Those left knew we were being watched closely.  But the professors keeping the tight watch went off on sabbatical during that next year and so kids like Sebastian weren’t reined in so much and then you get the Hunter debacle…but the teachers keeping standards up were back and willing to do something.”
“I’m glad I was.  It was what I needed right then.  Somewhere physically safe for me to regroup.  I just ended up with way too much baggage coming out.” Kurt said. “And I really liked the classes and the school.  We just couldn’t really afford it and I missed being able to be me.  I was going NUTS in the uniform. Although I would have waited till the end of the year if we could have afforded the last quarter.”
“Blaine always said you left because you wanted to sing with your choir at nationals.” Jeff said.
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Part of Blaine‘s problem all together is that Blaine doesn’t listen and can’t comprehend anything outside his immediate experiences. Blaine’s family never had money problems…never had to make hard choices or  make ends meet or even just put anything on hold till the next paycheck.  We got a six month emergency scholarship because my life was considered in danger and there was enough physical proof on my body when Dad called Dalton to ask about it. It does not cover six full months of school…it covered the few weeks in November and the few weeks of December. It covered the few weeks of January, February, March and we switched the first week in April because that was when the quarter there was over and I’d not have to start a few new classes and then be pulled out when the emergency scholarship was up.  That scholarship waived two thirds of Dalton’s fee.  With having to buy a new house and my dad’s medical fees and him not being able to work as much in the garage as he had before his heart attack earlier in that fall…we just could not afford it.  I wasn’t even sure I’d be allowed to sing with the New Directions at Nationals since I hadn’t sung in any of the qualifiers, but I was hoping to be able to. I said I hoped to be able to sing with my friends again and join the club again, yes. But I said all that after telling him over and over about the financial worries and my doubt we’d be able to pull off fees till the end of the school year.  That bit about hoping to sing with the New Directions again was all Blaine heard.”
 Nick nodded. “He does have issues with hearing what is really being said and comprehending past what he wants to have been said.”
 “And it doesn’t help that for the two years he was at Dalton, he was never expected to have to do anything other than that.” Jeff said.
 Kurt snorted. “McKinley really didn’t make him have to listen to others either.  He was still able to just do what he wanted and hear what he wanted and pretty much get everything handed to him on a silver platter.”
 Kurt stopped as they hit the start of the trail into the woods and just stared for a few minutes at the house before sighing so hard that Elliot felt it and Jeff and Nick heard it from the few steps they were ahead.  Elliot reached over and grabbed the soda from Kurt’s hand and grabbed the hand that had held the soda.
 “Have I mentioned how ridiculous I find you all’s definition of camping?” Kurt said.
 “No and I advise not doing so to the masses…they get cranky.” Nick said.  
 Kurt laughed and the tension eased out of him a bit. Jeff smiled and turned to Elliot.
 “So what song did you want a beat-box for?”  Jeff asked.
 “Beatle’s Come Together…right now.  I’ve been thinking about it for ages.”
Kurt smiled. “Oh…that would be good.  If we get the band back together we should consider theme nights.  Beatles would be great…avoiding certain songs of course.  I used to sing a mean Blackbird.”
 “What songs would we avoid?” Elliot asked.
 “All You Need is Love is Forever Ruined.” Kurt said. “Got To Get You Into My Life might be as well, although I still have an insane desire to sing it in public ALL BY MYSELF!”
 “Is that what he serenaded you with at that proposal?” Elliot asked.
 “ All You Need Is Love? Yes.”
 “That is too bad…but there are plenty of other Beatles songs which I think would fit us better anyway,” Elliot replied. “I would love to hear you sing Imagine and Hey Jude and we could have fun with Yellow Submarine.”
 Kurt beamed. “And we have never done a real Madonna night. We’ll have to make some lists.”
 David was waiting for them as the cleared the woods.
 Kurt was pulled into a hug and patted down before he could say anything, even ‘Hi’.
 “God, I am so sorry I didn’t even realize you were missing. I was fighting with Felix all Sunday and that always distracts me and at odds with Wes and then I left on Monday to pick up Ravi and I was just a horrid friend and…” David babbled as he patted Kurt down.
 “David, I am fine.” Kurt said. ”No bumps or bruises or anything…all body parts accounted for. Who is Felix and why were you fighting?”
 “Oh, God.  I forgot to introduce you to Felix.  And I’ve got to introduce you to Ravi…but word of warning now, he like worships your dad. You will be drilled.”
 Elliot chuckled.
 David looked at Elliot. “Who are you?”
 Nick and Jeff laughed.
 “This is Elliot Gilbert. He messaged Nick the moment he saw Kurt was lost with a phone number to call and demanded one of us drive him up here.” Jeff said.
 Kurt smiled.
 “I’m surprised you didn’t have to bring Dani as well.” Kurt said.
 “Dani is in Minneapolis at a roller derby exposition or she would have been tagging along. I was at a Yoga training retreat but made it to the city before these guys left.” Elliot said.
 “Dani?” David asked.
 “She is the other member of my band.” Kurt said. “By the way, where are our beat boxers this weekend? Elliot wants to try something.”
 “You have a band? We so need to talk.  I’m David.  I knew Kurt when he was a wee little junior who’d been chased from his school by bullying.”
 “He started it a little over a year ago…right after he started work at the diner.” Elliot said.
 “About three weeks after I got engaged to Blaine and two after Finn died.” Kurt said.
 “Finn died?” David nearly shouted.
 “I thought you knew that?” Kurt said. “Blaine was in contact with the Warblers at that time. He set up the engagement just the week before.”
 “Yeah, he promptly ignored everyone as soon as they sung to you except Trent and one of Hunter’s little friends who was close to Edwin.” Nick said.  “He even stopped talking to Sebastian and he called Sebastian every single day from the moment you left to the moment he convinced the Warblers to allow him back to Dalton to propose, even though he’d help ruin them. However, Sebastian heard from his dad. We sent flowers and put together a small fund which we sent to your dad at the end of the school year to help with whatever he thought it should.”
 Kurt smiled.  “I remember him saying something about that. I just wasn’t aware you Dalton boys were who he was talking about.  He called you the bird boys.  It makes sense now.  I suppose we ought to head in and at least reassure Richards I am fine.  Let him see it and not just hear it.”
 “He’ll be easy.” David said.  “I mean he was worried but not frantic. Conner…well, I’m sure the only reason he wasn’t out searching is because he got a concussion in the fight over you being missing and hasn’t been able to talk his boy into letting him off the couch until he stops throwing up if he moves to fast.”
 “Conner has a concussion?” Kurt asked.
 “Yes.  He was way furious because apparently Blaine told him you were too busy to talk to him and it was too dangerous for him to talk to you and besides you didn’t like him anymore and so he shouldn’t be potentially damaging his relationship trying to talk with you.”
 “Of course he did.” Kurt said. “Still, I’d like to apologize to Richards first.”
 “He’s been in the Kitchen since the fight.  I think he doesn’t trust us enough to go far anymore.”
 “Geez, I wonder why?” Nick commented.
 “This week has been way worse than spring break the year Kurt was at Dalton.” Jeff said.
 “Hmm, you think?  I mean six girls got pregnant and half the people here had to get tested for STDs for the next year, several needing treatment.”
 “What?!” Kurt shouted.
 “Wes didn’t check before we all headed out here and his cousin Juliette had also decided to use the lodge…anyway, we decided to share…more or less successfully.”  David said.  “That’s why Blaine couldn’t watch your Born This Way performance.  He was up here camping with us. We left pretty much right after we sang at your school.  Anyway, so Juliette was out here with like 20 girls from her boarding school and Wes pulled all us Warblers up and brought up several old Warblers and several guys from the soccer team and polo team and well…I think there were four babies that ended up born.  Luckily no warblers were the daddies.”
 “Ah.  I thought he went somewhere with his folks for Spring Break.” Kurt said.
 “He spent the last three days in New York with them…they went to a few shows and shopping.  He had Wes drive him down so they didn’t come up and find out we were with girls all week.”  
 Kurt rolled his eyes.
 “You guys are ruining my image of private school boys.” Elliot said.
 “You thought they were all sweet and innocent didn’t you?” Kurt asked.
 “Well, mostly.” Elliot admitted. “Especially like the prep school type and not the catholic or religious school type.”
 “Oh God.  I never even thought about that option.” Kurt said. “Hopefully my dad never did either. At that point of my life I would not have been able to cope.  I would have run away or killed myself.  I could NOT have done a religious school and my dad would not have been aware of that at that point because we had not yet discussed what had gone on while he was in a coma after his heart attack.”
 “Wait, I thought you were at Dalton due to bullying?” David asked as they entered into the kitchen.
 “I was.  The bullying changed during the summer…or near the end of the school year before, because they were some instances even then. Anyway, so instead of dumpster tosses, probably because I was too tall for them to be easy…I started being pushed more and pushed harder. Of course the slushies never stopped.  Then my dad had a heart attack right after Labor Day. And that same week the glee club went off on a religious rampage and spent most of the next little while telling me I was horrid and wrong for not believing in God…and no one DID anything to help. I stayed at home, with no one there, made all my own food and did all the chores, took over work at the garage so the others wouldn’t be too overwhelmed, went to school and did all my homework, and was the only one who really spent any time at the hospital…and was still bullied by the regular bullies every day. And the stupid glee club just harped on and on about praying fixing things and god fixing things…like prayer or god was going to make sure the paychecks got out on time or finish the rebuild on Martin Lewis’s 68 convertible that Dad was almost done with or fix dinner or do the dishes or patch up the gash where I caught the open locker while falling after Nelson pushed me, let alone be what actually helped with my dad.  Although I ended up at my friend Mercedes church, mostly so she would stop ignoring me and so people would stop telling me I wasn’t trying to work with them all, I came out of the whole experience even more jaded against religion than I started.  And in the weeks after my dad waking up, when I was the one caring for him all afternoon and evening and still keeping everything else going, the in school bullying shot up significantly, with Finn and others in glee club adding to it even though theirs wasn’t physical mostly.  And at home wasn’t better. Finn and Carole had dad’s ears then, even though they spent like NO TIME at the house helping out. Everything exploded that first week of November and the death threats started and my dad found out about some of it and I ended up at Dalton when the guy threatening me didn’t stay expelled.  I even was able to board for that first bit of time I was at Dalton, which ended up a godsend because My dad had just married Carole and so Finn moved in again but they hadn’t found a new house yet, so Finn and I were supposed to share a room but Finn couldn’t handle it any better than the first time we tried. With me in Dalton, Carole was able to get dad to have me just come home during Thanksgiving and Winter Break and stay at the dorms most the rest of the weekends. We couldn’t afford boarding after the semester started again though, so I drove to Dalton every day. But by then we had moved so Finn and I didn’t have to share.  Heck, our rooms weren’t even on the same level of the house.  Why is everyone staring at me?”
 Jeff wrapped an arm around Kurt. “We just didn’t realize everything you had going on.  I mean Wes and David knew a little about the bullying and I knew after that first PE class that the bullying had had a physical side because you were still all bruised. But I don’t think anyone knew about all the rest.”
 “In fact Blaine insisted it wasn’t really physical at all, but a sexual assault that you were getting away from.  That was why he wouldn’t let certain guys near you.” Nick said.
 Kurt tilted his head. “Hmm, I guess the inciting incident was. One of the Jock bullies kissed me after pushing me, and then he threatened to kill me if I told anyone.”
 Elliot wrapped Kurt in a hug and squeezed.
 “Elliot, I need to breathe.” Kurt squeaked.
 “Sorry, can’t let go.”
 “I’m fine now.  In fact, most everything surrounding that time is OK.  Things were hashed out in the family, with the main bully, even within glee club to a certain extent.  I just still am not big on religion.  Didn’t gain any more liking for it when my dad had cancer, or when Finn died, or when I was bashed.  Nor did it call for me when Blaine cheated the first time or at any point when living with Rachel. In fact, Rachel sort of put me off Judaism as well as Christianity. Elliot, don’t squeeze harder.”
 A deep chuckling came from behind the guys.
 “So YOU are the one missing?” Richards asked.
 Kurt detangled himself from Elliot’s arms. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think at all about the situation this would put you. I just could not be around a certain someone without losing it.  I should have at least like….told you what I was planning or something, though. I mean it’s like the first rule of going out someplace….let someone know where you are and when you should be back and how to be contacted. Like, seriously. I could have left a note or something.  So I am so sorry and I promise if you don’t make me stay up here, I’ll take you out and show you where I’m camped and you can even check for yourself that it is safe and fine and whatnot.”
 “You left the hotdogs and ground beef?” Richards asked.
 “Yes, but I swiped some stuff in exchange.” Kurt said.
 “You came in for breakfast and washed your dishes and left them in the drainer?”
 “Yes.  Except this morning.”
 “Yes, you probably should have left a note, but how old are you?” Richards asked.
 “20, almost 21.”
 “So in your third year of university?”
 “Second, I was held back in elementary the year my mom died, I missed too much school and my dad wasn’t willing to fight the decision.”
 “Still…you are an adult. The only reason you needed to let anyone know was because you were at someone else’s place and there could have been issues if something was really wrong.  But, I understand. I still don’t understand where you got the camping gear. We don’t have any here.”
 “I thought we were going camping.  I was put in charge of all the stuff and he said he’d set up the place. MY version of camping has a tent…I came with the camping gear.  The version these guys run off is NUTS, no offence.” Kurt said.
 Richards chuckled. “I would like to see everyone up at the house at least once a day…just write a note to let me know you stopped by.”
 Kurt nodded.  “So I can stay out at the camp?  It is in that little clearing about 10 minutes out.”
 Richards nodded. “It is still inside the property so I don’t think there will be a problem. However if you were out in a tent, I need to figure out who has been holed away up in the loft in the pool house.  I thought that was you.”
 “Oh, I know that one!” Jeff said.  “Caleb Andrews.  He came out with Felix but needed to finish some papers before he could have fun. Nick told him about the loft Friday night after he kept getting interrupted in the library. He was out with us for most the time Saturday, at least.”
 “So are we good?” Elliot asked. “Because I need to find some beat boxers.”
 Richards nodded. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour; it would be nice to be here for it so everyone can see you are found.”
 Kurt nodded. “Let’s go find you some beat boxers.  And go see Conner.  And who the hell is Felix!”
 David yelped. “I’ve got to introduce you to Felix!”
 Kurt waved as he was drug through the kitchen deeper into the house.  He settled next to Conner on the couch and told Conner all about his set up in the woods, which he and Jake wanted to see, as soon as Conner could stand without feeling sick. He brushed of Kurt’s worry, mostly because he assured Kurt he had been to the ER nearby and they assured him that he’d be fine in a day or two.
 David and a boy who looked very much his double came barreling in from one side of the room while Elliot and several guys came chasing in with Jeff and Nick from the other.
 “I’ve got Felix!” shouted David at the same time as Jeff shouted “We got beat boxers!”
 “Ok. First, Felix.” Kurt said.
 David smirked at the other guys and pulled his double next to him. “Kurt, this is Felix.  He’s my little brother and he went to Dalton with us, but he was in Europe on an exchange program for the whole time you were at Dalton, which wasn’t fair!  He’d have been in your grade!”
 “Felix, nice to meet you. Were you a Warbler?” Kurt asked.
 “I do not sing.  I like acting, though. I participated in academic decathlon and debate and speech competitions. And BPA and the young astronauts program.”
 “Oh, I wish you had been there when I was then, I know you could have helped with some of my classes that I had issues in.  I was generally behind in sciences, mostly because McKinley doesn’t teach science well, at all. I think I ended up talking to David and Trent.”
 “He was good once he understood what concepts he was missing and we liked helping Kurt because he caught on quick and never wanted us to DO the work for him, just explain what he was getting wrong.” David said.
 Felix smiled. “I would have been glad to help you then.  I am not fond of helping some people.  They think helping means doing it for them.  I do not approve.”
 Kurt nodded. “My step brother was that way. Nearly cause World War III at our house when that issue came up. He thought it unfair that I wouldn’t do his work for him.”
 Before the conversation could go farther, another guy came chasing into the room.
 Kurt recognized him from the night he spied on David.
 “Kurt Hummel?” the guy asked, his hand extended for a handshake. “I’m Ravi, Ravi Patil. I am a huge fan of your father’s.  I saw him speak once.  He was brilliant, so down to earth.”
 “It’s nice to meet you.” Kurt said, shaking Ravi’s hand. “I do rather adore him. OH! I had better call him and tell him I’m found!”
 Kurt pulled out his phone and dialed his dad.
 The call wasn’t long but long enough for Kurt to wish he’d done it while alone.   He thought Ravi was going to melt into a puddle of awe struck goo when his dad said to tell him hello and his was thrilled the young man had enjoyed his speech.
 Luckily Jeff and Nick thought it was as funny as Kurt did.  Elliot was confused and then swatted Kurt upside the head.
 “You could have mentioned your dad was a congressman.” Elliot said.
 “I’ve told you about my dad.” Kurt insisted.
 “Yeah, he owns and runs a garage in Lima, Ohio and is often away from home.” Elliot said. “He likes Melencamp and wears ball caps. And he was one of your biggest supporters in school, but you often didn’t let him know what was going on.”
 “Oh….umm sorry. I just don’t often remember it myself. I mean, he didn’t start doing a whole lot in Washington until January my senior year and so sometimes I forget.” Kurt said. “I just think of him at home in Lima.”
 “That makes sense.” One of the guys Kurt wasn’t sure he knew said. “My folks travel a lot and I usually only think of them at the home I grew up in, even though they are rarely there anymore.  Jonas, beatboxer.  Who wanted us?”
 “Elliot wants to try out some songs.” Kurt said.
 “Beatles. Come Together.” Elliot said. “To start with.”
 “Oh. Yes.” Jonas said. “Paul, do you have the Beatles version on your iPod?”
 “Of Course.” Paul answered.  “That will be easy, too.”
 “Kurt, front man or background vocals?” Elliot asked.
 “Backing in this. I know it. Go work up the vocals needed and then come get me when you need to add me.” Kurt said.  “I’m going to chat with some of the others for a bit. I would like to try Hey Jude or Imagine though.”
 “And we should totally have a reshow of Blackbird.” Jeff said.
 “I’ll consider it.” Kurt said. “I am on the edge of that being one of those ruined songs.  It was well done though, so…”
 “Take that one back.” Nick said. “You sang it stunningly. Don’t let Blaine lay claim to that.”
 Kurt smiled. “Fine. I’ll sing Blackbird as well, and decide then.”
 Elliot and about eight guys huddled in a corner of the music room, by the piano, and worked out music. Kurt could tell by the excited look on Elliot’s face that he was learning a lot from several of the guys.
 Kurt talked with Conner and Jake, David and Felix and Ravi.  Nick and Jeff wandered between the two groups, depending on what topics were being talked about in the group of boys surrounding Kurt. Other guys wandered in and joined with the two groups.  Kurt said hi to Braydon and met several others who he recognized from classes but never really interacted with.  They were talking clubs and sports differences in public and private school systems when Wes wandered in, followed by Blaine and his stooges.  Blaine, whose hand was encased in Edwin’s and who had bite marks covering his neck, was giggling and simpering as Ricky whispered something in his ear.
 “I thought you all were out looking for Kurt.” Wes said, glaring at David. Kurt nearly laughed as Wes’s gaze passed right over him, like he’d forgotten how Kurt looked.  
 Kurt snorted. “I’ve been located, Wes. I was camping.”
 “Camping?  Were you in the loft?  I haven’t seen you out in the hot tubs?” Wes said.
 “Camping.  You know…tent, sleeping bag, communing with nature? Hikes?” Kurt said.
 “Don’t be ridiculous.” Blaine said, looking at Kurt for the first time since entering the room.  “What would YOU know about any of that?”
 Conner growled. Kurt put his hand on his knee and Jake put his arm around him.  David kicked back, as if waiting for a show.
  Kurt turned his attention from Wes to Blaine.  He noted the hickeys on Blaine’s neck, he noted Ricky’s hands still on Blaine’s shoulder and Blaine’s hand still in Edwin’s, with his fingers running over the back of Edwin’s hand.
  “Blaine, how wonderful to see you…fully dressed and not in a compromising position, unlike last time I laid eyes on you for any length of time.” Kurt said with a sneer, that Blaine didn’t even seem to notice. “Why do you question what I know of camping?  I’m sure you remember my father. You know, the man that is supposed to be your future father-in-law. The guy you asked for my hand in marriage like I was some sort of simpering princess.  That guy.  You spent a great deal of time at my house hanging with the guys, even after I’d gone to New York. I figure you know him rather well.  Do you really think he didn’t take me camping and hunting and fishing every chance he got? I mean, sure…I worked full time at the garage most of high school, so he didn’t get me out as often as he would have liked, but you have got to be delusional if you think he didn’t take me out at least once or twice a year.”
 “You worked at the garage doing like…secretary stuff.” Blaine said.
 Kurt rolled his eyes.
 “How do you figure?” Kurt said.
 “Well, I know you SAID you worked on the cars there, but I never saw you working on cars there and you aren’t exactly…built to work on cars, you are more – you know…and whenever I saw you at the garage you were answering the phone and dressed nicely. What was I supposed to think?” Blaine said.
“You picked me up from work exactly twice, Blaine. Twice in the whole time we’ve known each other. You’ve been to the garage another three, maybe four times.  Once to tell my dad I had no idea about Sex…before you started dating me…after you basically told me I was unsexy and you had no interest. Which was very creepy mind you and which wasn’t even really true.  I probably knew more about SEX than you did at that point…just mine was more of the boy/girl nature and more of the book learning aspect and more of the view of sex from listening to girls…so lots about menstrual cycles and sore boobs and stretch marks and things like that.  Then you didn’t bother coming to the garage again until AFTER I had graduated.  Hanging with Finn and Sam was just peachy.  And then you went to ask my dad my hand in marriage.  Even after you went to McKinley for school, you couldn’t ever be bothered to come to work with me and hang out or anything, so we saw each other AFTER I was done and had gone home and showered and changed. I guess I expected you to take my word for it when I told you I worked at the garage. How would you actually KNOW anything? I certainly didn’t get receptionist pay, which you enjoyed the fruits of more often than not. I mean when it came to paying for dates and things, I certainly generally took the provider role even though I wasn’t the one from an ‘extremely wealthy’ family ---your words, not mine---with a never ending allowance. Therefore, I never expected that you thought I was LYING to you the whole time. It is utterly insane for one to assume someone is LYING about their job. Unless of course, that someone spends so much time himself lying that he assumes everyone else lies all the time…just like him.  What kinds of lies did you tell me, Blaine?  What lies have you told me that everything I know is based off of?”
Blaine just glared at Kurt and crossed his arms over his chest.  Kurt stood and walked towards Blaine and his pals.
“Shall we start with the big one right now, Blaine?  Why are we here at Wes’s place?” Kurt said.
At first Kurt wasn’t sure Blaine was going to answer.  Edwin whispered something in his ear and the Ricky leaned in and whispered something in his other ear.
“Because I wanted to come and I knew you would be awful if I just headed out for dead week without you.” Blaine said. “You would have said no just to spite me if I’d wanted to come on my own.  And the formal invite was to both of us since David sent them out.”
“See, the truth wasn’t so hard there was it.  Might have been nice to tell it to me before I spent the money I did for this week, but I’m sure you’ll find it in your oh so truthful heart to pay me back at least half, if not more.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Kurt.” Blaine said.
“I’m not kidding.” Kurt said.
Blaine rolled his eyes. “We’ll discuss this later at home.  You’ll see my point after we discuss it there.”
“You mean, I’ll drop the topic after you’ve screamed at me for hours on end just so I don’t have to hear you hollering any longer? My dad already agreed you need to pay back at least half the money I put out due to lack of communication, so it is not going away as easy as you generally manage to make issues disappear.” Kurt said.  “However, I guess we could discuss it at home.  Paying me back for what I put into a trip that you lied about will work in nicely with other topics, I’m sure. Of course, I suggest we do so after you’ve done your school work that you have been slacking off on and maybe even after finals. I would hate for you to actually flunk out because you chose to go camping instead of do your work…or rather I’d hate for you to blame me for your failure when you decided to choose camping over school work. And I will make sure your professors know what you have been up to this week, make no mistake about that.”
“I can’t believe you are being so mean to Blaine! What has he ever done to you?” Chaz sneered.
Jeff and Nick snorted as David held Conner down.
It was Elliot who laughed though. “Are you kidding me?”
“And just who are you?” Ricky asked, turning towards Elliot.
“God’s sakes, why are YOU here?  Kurt, are you cheating on me?  Did you sneak HIM here to have sex with him behind my back?  How dare you?  I KNEW you were cheating on me with him. I knew it. I didn’t for one moment believe he was just a friend and band mate.  How long have you been having sex with him, huh? I can’t believe you would do this to me!” Blaine started hollering.
“Has anyone ever had you tested for personality disorders?” Elliot shouted back.  “You are delusional and a hypocrite.”
“I am not! I know you’ve fucked him. I know it.  You wouldn’t accept my friend request on Facebook or any other social site and you were always calling. I can’t figure out why you want him more than me, but I know you’ve had sex with him and he is cheating with you.” Blaine continued. “And I’m NOT a hypocrite. I’m not wearing the ring; he is, so that makes him mine.  I can do whatever I like, he cannot. I asked for HIS hand in marriage, he didn’t ask for mine.  I’m the alpha male and so I can sow my seed.”
“You’re an idiot is what you are.” Elliot said. “A hypocrite and an Idiot. And delusional and an ass.”
“Blaine, I suggest you stop speaking before you further prove just how stupid you can be.” Kurt said. “And frankly, everyone here knows which of the two of us has been having sex this week so far…you haven’t taken any care to hide the proof.”
“But I can have sex.” Blaine said.
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Men in this room, how many are Gay or Bisexual, or any other identity on the spectrum?”
About half the room raised their hands and Kurt started to cough.
“You Ok there?” Elliot asked.
“Maybe Dalton was a gay school and I just never knew.” Kurt said.
David started to laugh.
“Anyway…” Kurt continued. “IF you are in a monogamous relationship, is it perfectly all right for your other half to have sex with other people?”
Most of those who had raised their hands shouted no.
“Straight men, if you are in a monogamous relationship with a girl….say engaged…is it all right to have sex with other people?”
Most of the straight guys said no.
“Those of you who did not say no to that…IF I asked your GIRLFRINDS the question would they say it was all right for you…the guy…to have sex with others while in a monogamous relationship?”
Only two tried to insist that their girls understood that men must be men and have sex with anyone their nether regions wanted.  Kurt asked for numbers of their girlfriends to ask.  Neither still had a girlfriend.
“There you go, Blaine.” Kurt said.  “The majority of the people here KNOW YOU ARE WRONG.  Not that it really matters. Do you know WHY it doesn’t really matter? Because I, the other half of this supposedly monogamous relationship, think you are WRONG!”
“So?” Blaine said.
The majority of the others in the room looked at Blaine in confusion.
“So?  So I think that BOTH people in a relationship that is monogamous only see each other…that is what monogamous means.  That means when one of those is NOT just seeing the other in the relationship, he is CHEATING.  I told you when I took you back…I would not be cheated on. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if YOU don’t think you are cheating for whatever STUPID rationality you have concocted…I think you are cheating and I am THE ONLY ONE who matters in that.  I will not live in a world of double standards, Blaine.”
“Now, Kurt,” Blaine started, in a tone of voice that instantly grated on Kurt’s nerves even more. It was that condescending tone Blaine used when he thought Kurt was too naive or too poor to understand.
“We’ll speak of it at home.” Kurt said. “My dad might even join us. For now…I do believe Elliot has managed to work something out with his beatboxes. You are boring me, Blaine. You should go find something to do away from the rest of us….like you have all week, I’m sure.”
With that Kurt turned and stalked over to the piano. “Play me my part, boys.”
Paul smirked and started playing the notes he wanted Kurt to take on “come together”.   Most the guys who’d been sitting with Conner and Kurt by the couches moved over to the piano as well, Jake dragging an armchair over for Conner to sit in. Blaine just stared. No one was paying any attention to him, or Chaz or Ricky or Edwin…or even Wes.  Kurt smirked as Edwin and then Ricky whispered into Blaine’s ear again and Chaz pulled them all out to the hot tubs, Blaine frowning the whole way.
“I still don’t know who He is.” Wes stated, pointing at Elliot.
Kurt paused in his vocals. “Elliot Gilbert, my bandmate and friend.  Apparently there are people out there that care about me, Wes. So when he read the Facebook blow-up, he contacted Jeff and Nick and came out to help locate me…as in as soon as he read the Facebook blow–up he made efforts to come find me…he didn’t fuss about and ignore that I was ‘missing’. Your…nonchalant…manner of dealing with a missing person is, I hope, because it happens often enough with positive results that it wasn’t a real issue.  I shall have to ask Richards about that.”
Wes paled. “I’ve got…things…to do.” Wes said as he turned and headed towards the kitchens and Richards.
Kurt smirked and turned his attention back to singing.
They hadn’t got far in putting together the song before dinner was announced.
It was a much different experience than the first night, when Kurt felt like no one noticed him. All sorts of people came up to him and spoke to him.  He met the guys who’d taken out the motorbikes after he’d gone for his ride; he met several of Ravi’s friends, who spoke with him about his dad and politics. He met a few of the older Warblers, who had been working with Elliot on the songs right before dinner.
It wasn’t like Blaine was alone…he had his little harem and a small posse of pals who gathered around them like moths to a flame.  But Kurt was included in a group as well, and comments from said group made Kurt wonder how much of his being left alone at first was at Blaine’s suggestion.  He’d heard more than one person say they’d hoped to talk to him but that Blaine had told them Kurt would prefer they not.
After dinner they went and worked on the songs Elliot wanted to try, getting ‘Come Together’ to a level that Conner recorded it for Elliot. Then Jeff and Nick talked Kurt into doing Blackbird for them.  Like Kurt had predicted, more guys than they started with moved into the music room to participate.  Kurt could see about nine guys out in the hot tubs, where Blaine and his group were holding court, but the majority of guys were in with Kurt. Several of the guys who’d sung with Ravi and the older Warblers showed off some of the songs they’d done in the days…and won with.  Kurt was especially fond of the medley of John Denver songs they did and their ‘Ring of Fire’ arrangement.
When it started to get dark, Kurt and Elliot headed back to the camp. Jeff and Nick and Conner and Jake were to spend the next day at the Kurt’s campsite…or at least part of it. Elliot grabbed the knapsack of clothes from Jeff’s car as they headed out.
They chatted on the small hike back to the camp.  Kurt pulled out sodas to drink and they retired directly to the tent.  
“You’ll have to share the mattress.” Kurt said. “But you can have your own sleeping bag. I’m changing, I hope you don’t mind. I have extra blankets in the corner if you need some; it is still a bit chilly at night.  I haven’t been cold, but I bought extra thick fleece pajamas.”
“Can I brag to one and all tomorrow that I got to sleep with you?” Elliot asked. “I’ll be fine; I packed what I have been wearing at night at the retreat.”
Kurt shrugged.
“Kurt?”
“I was hoping to wait to actually break-up with Blaine until after finals….I know he is going to fail and blame it all on me as it is. With a break-up added to that?  I’ll be lucky if they don’t toss me out on me ear…for making the poor darling so stressed and broken hearted he couldn’t do his work. And the teachers will buy it….they always do for him and Rachel.”
“You are forgetting something.” Elliot said.  He made sure to hunt around his bag while Kurt changed his pants. “There is a whole day of you being lost broadcast all over social media and a whole day of Blaine not caring being broadcast just as loudly.  There are three dozen guys here who will mostly vouch for the activities that Blaine did here…while you were lost.  And also probably about how NOT heartbroken the brat is.  I’ll come with you and talk to the powers that be if need be. You know I will.”
“And yet, somehow I doubt it would make a difference.” Kurt said.
“Then make it make a difference.  Is it everyone who seems under their spell, or just certain people?  Go to other department heads if you need to. Had Rachel charmed them all? Are those under Blaine’s spell also those under who had been under Rachel’s?  Or did he do his own schmoozing?” Elliot asked.
Kurt tilted his head as he thought.  “You know…I don’t think she had.  She rather alienated the dean who oversees the drama classes…and who overseas most the non-practical courses like script analyses. She’s upset most the staff who teach on the tech side of the program and all the staff who deal with dance…all the staff, not just the instructors. She was rude to most the other vocal professors. Blaine is harder to gauge…there are people who praise and adore him who don’t seem to have ever met him or know much more about him than he has to be wonderful because he is in sophomore classes. Or maybe his folks put sooo much money into getting him in the classes he is in that they are enamored with that.  I don’t know how to prepare for that.”
“His folks gave money to the school to ensure his class choices?” Elliot asked, pulling out his pants and sleeping shirt now that Kurt was mostly changed.
Kurt shrugged and turned around to pull out the small speakers for his IPod so they could listen to music and Elliot could change pants. “His first semester he was in regular first year freshman classes and he just did OK…there were no As…but he passed the things he took with Bs and Cs.  He was like Rachel, though…he took voice and a private voice section, acting, dance and a lecture course on auditioning for different formats that he wasn’t supposed to be able to take but his brother knew the guest lecturer and got him into that one.  He carried just enough credits to be full time.  He dropped dance with Ms. July and changed into a lower level course within the first week taught by someone else…which he also skipped about ¼ of. He skipped out on his acting course half the time.  Then second semester starts up and he is in 6 of my 8 classes….all 6 of his classes are with me.  My classes are sophomore level…I spent the time attending everything I needed to move ahead with the amount of credits needed to be a sophomore.  He hadn’t even taken any of the first year of script analysis, or English 101, which were supposed to be the prerequisites for script writing.  He hadn’t taken the dance courses or the movement course which was supposed to be needed to take stage combat. The same for everything.  I asked how he was in my classes.  His first response was that he was just so good all his teachers recommended he skip ahead. Then I said I was going to ask around to see which teachers said that. He huffed and puffed and whined before saying that he just signed up and then pull strings to stay.  It was during a chat with Rachel I learned his dad was donating several good sized scholarships for the years he was in the school and that his mom was donating to help fund some instrument updates so he could have the best for accompanying his star performances. I simply concluded that was how he got himself into classes he wasn’t suited or prepared for.”
“Please tell me you are kidding?  That is absolutely horrible.”
“I only wish I were. And I suppose I could be wrong, but it is the only explanation that makes any sense…well, there is the people are hypnotized by his puppy dog eyes and hair gel theory, but generally I only indulge in that one when I am a bit tipsy on cough syrup and pain meds and still running a high fever…or concussed.” Kurt said.
Elliot snorted and tucked the clothing he’d changed out off into his knapsack, making sure he’d pulled out the thick socks he’d packed when he saw Kurt pull out his own. He handed Kurt the knapsack and Kurt passed it off to the side of the tent where his own was resting.  He flopped back onto the air mattress.  Kurt settled beside him.
“This is ridiculously comfortable for an air mattress.” Elliot said.
Kurt blushed. “I didn’t want Sam to be uncomfortable. My dad would have been upset.  He sees Sam as one of us most the time.”
“Do you ever wish to see what would happen if you had that kind of money to pour into things?” Elliot asked, staring at the top of the tent.
“No.” Kurt answered. “I decided once I started school that I wanted to gather as much experience as possible.  I never want a lack of knowledge or experience on my part to be the reason a production has issues. I didn’t get the parts that Blaine and Rachel always did. I didn’t get the summer jobs performing, or the summer voice lessons or fancier dance classes outside Lima, which both had even if they didn’t take as much advantage of what they were given as they could.  I have time and learning to catch up on.”
Elliot snorted. “Why is it always the ones who had everything who never appreciate it?”
Kurt smiled. “I don’t know, but seriously…there is one huge thing I learned at Dalton; Appreciate the things you have and don’t go looking for something better all the time. At first I was jealous of all those kids and their never ending cash, but then I realized that half couldn’t even make themselves a sandwich…let alone wash their clothing or fix their car or bike.  Lose a button?  Toss the shirt out and go buy a new one. However fine that was for a uniform shirt, I watched so many boys whine or get into a rage over loosing favorites because they lost a button.  Drop paint on your shoe?  Write home for a new pair to be sent and some extra cash for emotional turmoil, while whining that now you have to break in new shoes and your favorites are ruined forever and can’t be worn.  Miss lunch due to a meeting with a teacher?  Even with options of an open kitchen for student use after lunch was over and each dorm having a stocked kitchen, half of them would starve instead because they had no clue how to even find a snack.  Not all of them were that bad, but most were close. Our uniform shirts were 60 bucks, due to being so well made and tailored, supposedly. I actually made a killing off kids who would lose a button, bring their shirt to me to mend for 30 bucks, while writing home them needed money to buy a new shirt.  Their parents would send the money and they’d pocket the remainder for sneaking out clubbing or some other dumb thing.  I charged twenty to make grilled cheese, 10 for peanut butter and anything and 10 for meat sandwiches.  I charged three to peel oranges.  Often I made 60 bucks a day from just peeling oranges throughout the day. On the other hand…I realized that if needed, I could survive on my own even then.  I had the life skills needed, and had work experience that would have allowed me to be fine, even if I wasn’t happy.  I could have had full time work as a mechanic with little problem.”
Elliot laughed.  “Did any of them ever realize how much you were overcharging them?”
Kurt smirked. “The few who did were so desperate that they paid anyway.  I am hoping most of them NOW realize it, due to the fact they are all supposedly adults living in adult worlds.  It sounded like most the boys up at the house were managing Ok.”
Elliot laughed. “I suppose so.  What are you going to do about things?”
“I’m going to enjoy the rest of the time here with the guys…and take you out on those dirt bikes with me tomorrow.  I am going to then go home and study and take my finals and finish presentations and whatnot next week.  I am going to call my dad and have him help get back half the money I spent for this week from Blaine…and the rent and other expenses Blaine is supposed to be helping with but really hasn’t.  It’s only been a month since Rachel moved out and he moved in, so the expenses aren’t insurmountable if he doesn’t manage to get Blaine to pay up, but I’m going to try.  I am going to inform Blaine he has a month to be gone from the loft. I am going to have Chase come in with his buddy and help me create a spate space for someone else to live with me and find a roommate.  Not sure where I’m going from there…I’ll tell you after finals.”
Elliot reached over and grasped Kurt’s hand.  “I’ll keep you to it…and to your immediate plans.  Do you think you can make it through the next week?”
Kurt nodded. “As long as I focus on finals, yeah.”
“I can be done by next Friday, even with taking from now until Monday off.  So I can be around when you need backup when moving Blaine out or going to the school about his complaints if they happen.  Dani said she’d return next week if you need her. She got a bit extra in a paycheck and they don’t compete until next weekend after Sunday…she could use it to fly home and be there for you after Sunday.”
“No.  I’ll be good. I would feel so guilty if she used that money to fly to New York just because my world can’t stay stable for any length of time.” Kurt said.
“Yes, well….we both still feel guilty for not being around when you got bashed earlier this year.” Elliot said.
“I am sorry you didn’t know about it until weeks after.  Rachel and Blaine suck at telling people anything…My dad wouldn’t even have known if the hospital hadn’t called him, and he was the one to call the school.  Both were asked about me, but both just said I ‘was indisposed’ and couldn’t make it to classes. They never even turned in the notes I made for them to take.  If I hadn’t needed to reassure myself I could still present my performance assignment, I have no doubts I wouldn’t have any misses excused because my dad wouldn’t have called and got the doctors to talk to the teachers.  I should have tossed Blaine’s sorry ass to the side then. I still wouldn’t have gotten to do my performance if I hadn’t gotten out of the hospital the day before the last day of performances and my dad hadn’t marched into the school and demanded to see the written policy on medical emergencies and then taken it straight to Madame T.  He gave her a lovely lecture on not holding me responsible for Blaine’s behavior, which she forgot she heard before he’d even headed back to Washington DC.”
“I am not joking, Kurt. I want you to promise to go speak with the other deans and discuss Blaine and Rachel and Madame T’s response to them and you.  I swear you should transfer somewhere else.”
Kurt chuckled “I have thought about it. But…I got into NYADA and I don’t want to quit because of Rachel or Blaine. I don’t want to give either the satisfaction. And they would both be quick to rub it in and make sure everyone we ever met knew I had failed…I had quit.”
“Then get the help to make it through that school that you need.  This past semester has been ridiculous.”
“To be fair, the June issue is mostly my fault.  I caved to Blaine’s need to be the focus of all around him and it was my apology for making him feel badly about himself.”
“It wouldn’t have been an issue if the lady had any taste.  Blaine was outlandish and annoying the whole song…and it wasn’t even a good performance because he was not working as a group with anyone.  He over sang and over acted everything.  And before you say anything the whole performance was posted to blogs…so yes I saw it.  AND people there said the video didn’t even do justice to Blaine’s over done attitude. As to the apology bit, I still don’t see anything YOU needed to apologize for.  YOU didn’t make him eat all the fattening food he ate, YOU didn’t prevent him from exercising, I doubt YOU ever even told him no except for the time you were under doctor’s orders to not do anything too strenuous. ”
“I didn’t.  In fact he was always telling me NO, even before I was bashed.  You are right. What makes it worse is the choreography that I stuck with was Blaine’s idea and how we practiced it.  He didn’t want me to ‘be too loud’ in my actions of motions and he wanted everything ‘subtle’ and yet ‘a bit comical’.  I should have done what I wanted as soon as he started his own thing. Or just taken off with my original song counter to him and left him story of our lives to sing on his own.”
“What did you have planned?” Elliot asked.
“Outlaw of Love…or Let Me Entertain You.”
“I would have paid to see either.” Elliot said.
Kurt laughed. “I considered a full Glam For Your Entertainment, but I decided against that after Madame T nearly had a coronary when I came into school with nail polish still of after a spa afternoon with Isabella when I was recovering from the bashing.  They weren’t even too out there…just deep blood red glitter with a high gloss shine. For the head of a theater school, she is very conservative.  I think that is why the Apples had such a hard time…and some of the other kids.  Kids that are her stars are those students that are great but also completely ‘normal’…the ones who would be leads without anything about them standing out in any way that could be negative.  I heard the Dean of Tech yell at her once that NYADA was a school for the arts, the kids were supposed to feel free to be artsy.”
Elliot snorted. “I heard the other vocal teachers actually put out students who have higher hiring rates.”
“Master Franko does. I finally looked those stats up. Madame T has pushed out more ‘stars’ from her classes, but Master Franko teaches students who are hired consistently. And has had a fair amount of stars come out of his classroom as well.  I am taking courses from him this summer and next fall. I haven’t looked into the other two yet.”
“You should take courses from those as well.  I seriously think that if given the option one should take courses from as many different teachers as one can. I mean, yes…classes from the head of the costume department at NYU were fantastic, but when I took construction techniques from Martin Mayers, who worked with the museum as well as working as one of the head costumers for NYU shows, I learned so much more.  Not because he was better, but because his focus wasn’t exactly the same and so he had a different perspective.”
“There was a class that was on writing music that I thought about taking…it dealt not only with creating original works but also transposing songs into different keys and mash-ups and legalities. I think I’ll fit that in next year somewhere. I did well enough in music theory to take it.”
“I think you be brilliant at it.” Elliot said. “Well get you through this, Kurt.  I think you’ll find so many more doors opening up once we’ve got this door with Blaine nailed shut.  I think you’ll find so many people just waiting to pounce in and take up space in your life as so as they knew they can…friends and lovers.”
Kurt squeezed Elliot’s hand. Images of Jeff and Nick and Conner and Jake and David flitted through his head.  They were chased by thoughts of Adam and his Apples, the guys from stage combat, and other in different classes who always were friendly but seem to hold back…and look around as if to see who was about.  Then Chase and Sal’s laughs passed through his mind. Kurt looked at Elliot’s smiling face and thought of what he had said about Dani…and about the other from the band.
“I think you might just be right.  We should turn off the lantern and watch a movie before trying to get some sleep.  I have got to take you out on those dirt bikes.  I think you will love it.  I am so kicking myself for telling my dad I didn’t want one when I was little.”
“Your dad offered you a dirt bike? I thought you just meant lessons or something.” Elliot asked.
Kurt laughed.
“I was entering JR. High and didn’t want to give into what I saw as pressure to be ‘normal’ and ‘fit in’ and be just like all the other rude horrid boys I knew.  And as much as I had enjoyed riding a 4wheeler the summer before, I wasn’t absolutely gaga over it, so I didn’t figure a dirt bike would live up to the hype my Father was giving it.  I’m pretty certain he wanted me to race them.”
Elliot laughed as well. “Blow that candle out, then.”
Kurt’s breath caught before he turned and turned off the light.
“Blow the candles out, looks like a solo tonight,” Kurt sang softly as he pulled open the laptop. “But I think I’ll be all right.”
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