#this post is dedicated to my mother’s landlord

[saturnparker]

pitching a new HGTV show called “help my landlord is evil” where the professionals come in to renters’ homes and fixes whatever problems their landlord has continuously ignored or fixed cheaply and poorly.

The episode ends with them confronting the landlords, possibly fist fighting them too i haven’t decided.

[astralbulldragon13]

Reunion of Father and Daughter: A Bug Army Story

(This will be the catalyst of more stories involving Amber and her father Woodrow. I have been planning character development for him and this is where it starts)

Woodrow was practically running down the small alley, following the girl with lavender hair and small back horns.

She and a group of others told him they where ‘she’ was. They know his Amber, and she wanted to see him.

The girl he was following turned around another corner then seemed to vanish into thin air. Woodrow skidded to a stop and looked around frantically, his heart racing.

“Hello, Pa.”

Woodrow knew that voice, it had haunted him for nearly four years. He turned to see his daughter leaning against the wall of the alley.

Amber had grown some since he had last seen her, shot up at least three inches in height, and had gained more muscle. No longer the scrawny little fence post that had taken off on one of his old draft horses that day.

Her hair looked better, not that ragged slash from her old hunting dagger when Collie sent their daughter away from their farm.

His brain finally caught up to the words that she said. ‘Pa’, not ‘Papa’. He supposes he deserved her not calling him that anymore. He didn’t stand up for her, he didn’t put his food down. He doesn’t deserve to be called her ‘Papa’.

Woodrow straightened his spine, feeling his eyes brim with tears as he held out his arms to her. “Amber-Lily…”

He watched as her eyes flooded with tears as his daughter ran to him, into his arms. Woodrow didn’t even hold back the tears that fell down his weathered face while squeezing Amber tightly, and she returned the embrace.

"I'm so sorry, my girl, I'm so sorry. I should have said something, I've never forgiven myself for not standing up for you."

He moved back so he could look his precious girl in the face. Woodrow ran a calloused thumb over the scar that ran over her face. "I have never thought your scar was something to be ashamed of, Amber-Lily. Never."

Amber wiped at her eyes. "It... It means a lot to hear that, Pa."

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers.

His daughter took him to a small cafe, followed closely by a group of her friends. All of them were scarred, and protective of his beloved daughter.

It was a pleasant lunch. Amber told him about her time as a hunter, and how she had new friends and she was in a safe place. He even learned from these friends about his daughter's crush on their landlord's nephew. He chuckled, watching as his daughter pout and blush, hiding her face in her folded arms.

However, Woodrow's joy came to a screeching halt when Amber's twin companions came up to them.

"Uh, Amber?" The short-haired twins went to Amber's side and started to talk in a low voice. "Vic and I... we found your Mama in the saloon up the road."

Amber lifted her head from her arms, her hazel eyes narrowing. "You're leaving something out, Vin. Spil it."

Woodrow blinked, he's not used to his daughter being so blunt. He had to remind himself that his girl was never a demure little thing like his wife.

The twin with the short hair worried her lip between her teeth, glancing at the ground before looking at Amber. "She was... with some other guy."

"Practically in his lap," mumbled the twin with the long hair.

Woodrow's hands clenched into tight fists. A truth that he had been hiding from for nearly his entire marriage. "Amber... the rumors about your mother... they're true, aren't they?"

Amber lowered her head, picking at the skin around her thumbnail. "...Yeah. Before she threw me out, I could swear I saw her kissing Spoon."

Spoon. Woodrow's fists tightened into fists. He was one Woodrow's longer lasting seasonal hands. Woodrow thought that he was just dedicated to helping on the farm, but, of course, that was just his denial. Again. Always his denial. He was always pushing away his deserved doubts, reservations, questions that should have been asked nineteen years ago when he first found his baby left alone, in her cradle in an empty house.

The farmer burst up from his seat, throwing a handful of coins onto the table before turning to the twins. "Which way to this saloon?"

Amber stood from her chair as well. "Pa, what are you doing?"

Woodrow looked at his daughter, his hazel-green eyes fierce, and filled with an unfamiliar rage. "Amber-Lily, your mother and I need to have a conversation that's long overdue."

She bit her lip, before nodding. "Then I'm coming with you. I have a few words I have to say to her as well.

He gave a tight smile, and followed the ebony-haired twins, walking through the dusty streets and passing by shopkeepers hailing Amber's friends familiarly. But all noticed the serious expressions on their faces and quickly kept to themselves. As they reached the swinging doors of the saloon, he could hear the voice of his wife.

"Don't worry about my husband, dear. The poor fool is so addled he wouldn't see a love bite on my neck if I walked around the house naked."

Woodrow felt his face burn with shame, but he did not break his stride, storming in the direction of the table Collie occupied with some well-dressed dandy. Before the farmer could speak, Amber came up to his side, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Bold words from you, Ma."

His daughter's harsh words pierced the atmosphere.

Collie's head snapped up at the voice, her light-brown eyes widening in shock and recognition at the sight of her long-lost child, but she quickly schooled her expression. "So, my beast of a daughter finally shows her hideous face after so many years?"

"And my slut of a mother is still hiking up her skirt for anything with a dick after so many years," Amber retorted. "Best mind your mouth, Ma. Before I decide my friends can beat the hell out of you."

"We might just do that without any prompting, given how you're acting," responded one young hunter with multiple scars and ginger-hair that covered one eye, standing close to Amber.

Collie jumped to her feet, looking at her husband. "You're just going to allow those little wretches to talk to me like that?"

Woodrow simply crossed his arms, his green eyes glinting with rage in the lamplight of the saloon. "Why, yes, I am. Because they're not wrong." He turned his eyes to the dandy that his wife was offering herself to with a stern glower. "You best make yourself scarce, friend. I have to... speak to my wife."

One of Amber's friends with wild, dark hair grabbed the man by the shoulder and hauled him up to his feet. "Sorry, friend, I suggest you make yourself scarce."

The poor sap was quick to flee out the doors of the saloon.

Woodrow turned slowly to face his wife, his expression like stone. "I have really been a fool, haven't I? To think you could love me?"

Collie sputtered, her eyes wide and fear-filled. "Woodrow, please, listen to me, this is all big misunderstanding-"

"Misunderstanding?!" snapped another of Amber's companions, one with fiery hair, and powerful arms. "You were practically propositioning yourself to that prick!"

Collie lifted her hand, as though to slap the redhead, only for her arm to be grabbed by Amber in a bruising grip.

"Pa is talking to you, Ma. So shut up, sit down, and listen to him for once in your fucking life."

Collie froze, and even Woodrow was a bit stunned at Amber's words. Neither of them was used to this fiercer version of their daughter. Collie stumbled back in shock, and Woodrow turned his eyes back to his wife.

"Amber is right, Collie. Shut your mouth and listen to me. I have had enough if this... of you."

Collie looked at her husband in horror. "Woodrow, what are you talking about?"

"I've had enough of you pushing me aside, of just being some, some plaything to you. You don't love me... and I doubt you ever did. Even before we had Amber."

His wife began to shake her head. "You... Woodrow what are you talking about?"

The man before Collie looked at her so coldly that she almost didn't recognize him.

"I'm done, Collie. When we get back home, I'm done with you." And with those words, he marched out with Amber and her comrades, her daughter giving her one last glare that could curdle fresh cream before the doors swung closed behind them.

There was chatter in the saloon at this sudden bit of drama. Collie's face burned with shame. She will never be able to show her face in this town again after this embarrassment.

And Woodrow's threats? He was done? What did he mean? He wouldn't bring her on anymore business trips? He wouldn't share a bed with her anymore? Surely, he didn't mean that he was done with their marriage, right? No! No, no, no, he couldn't mean that! Woodrow would never have the spine to do such a thing!

Outside, Woodrow leaned against he wall of the building, laughing quietly as tears dripped down his cheeks.

Amber wrapped her arms around her father, while her friends gathered close. "You did it, Pa. I'm so happy for you."

Woodrow pulled Amber close, kissing her brow. "I couldn't have done it without you to push me through, Amber-Lily."

The next morning, Woodrow finished his business in Billoway and packed up the wagon.

Amber and her friends stood close by, watching Collie as she struggled to get into the wagon without assistance from Woodrow.

Woodrow approached his daughter once everything was in the cart/ "It... It was so wonderful to see you again, Amber. And I'm so, so happy for you. You made so many new friends, I've never seen you this happy." He reached out and gently cupped her face, running a thumb over the scar on her face.

"Hey, Big Papa!" Amber's friend with the wild-dark hair offered him an envelope with a neatly written address on the front. "Write to us, will yeah? We would love to hear from you."

Woodrow felt a deep warmth swell in his chest as he pulled the little firecracker into a tight hug. "Thank you. For this, and for taking care of my baby."

She giggled and batted his back. "No worries, big guy. And we'll come visit you when we can."

Woodrow said his goodbyes, pressing one last kiss on top of Amber's head before climbing into the wagon, not even sparing a glance at Collie. Together, they made their way back north to their home.

After returning too their home, and storing their wares, Woodrow saddled his horse and rode into town. Neighbors looked at Woodrow in surprise, they had never seen the docile farmer so angry before, it was... concerning.

He stormed into the office of the town magistrate, shocking everyone in the room with the words he said to the magister:

"I need papers of annulment. Now."

The bugs mentioned in this story: Jemma @diamondzoey Victor and Vincent @littlesiren79 Emerald @aspenm00n Korey @rozeliyawashereyall and Lucy @castbracelet240

[craftydragonperson]

Terada-ya, Otose

Otose (around 1829 - September 7, 1877) was a landlady of the Teradaya Inn, who lived during the end of the Edo Period, the last days of the Tokugawa shogunate.

Plaque of her at the Ryoma museum in Kochi.

Otose was born as a second girl to Jubei OMOTO who run a Japanese-style hotel in Otsu. Although Otose got married to Inosuke TERADAYA, the sixth landlord of the Teradaya Inn (an inn for sailors in Fushimi, Kyoto), Inosuke deteriorated his business for being debauched and even died young for excessive drinking. Therefore, she had taken charge of running the Inn since then. As Otose originally liked taking care of people, she voluntarily protected soldiers who had the thought of Sonno Joi (reverence for the Emperor and the expulsion of foreigners) such as Ryoma SAKAMOTO from the bakufu (Japanese feudal government headed by a shogun), although the bakufu wanted to expel them. Therefore, Otose was once regarded as a dangerous person by the bakufu and had a narrow escape from being imprisoned.

In 1863, after feudal retainers of the Satsuma Domain killed each other in the Teradaya Inn (the Teradaya Incident), Otose ordered her servants to replace battered tatami (mats) and fusuma (sliding doors) immediately to prepare for resuming a business. It is said that she continued to hide Ryoma and other soldiers of Sonno Joi sometimes even after the Incident. Otose died in 1877.

Sakamoto Ryōma - man modeled after Sakamoto Tatsuma and the person who Gintoki is based on [I’d really appreciate if you could check out my other posts after this, if you haven’t already].

In most of the letters written by Ryoma to Otose, Ryoma described some personal requests or his frustrations associated with his work to Otose.

Terada Anayo (Otose) from Gintama

Mistress of the Teradaya boathouse in Fushimi from Bunsei 12 (1829) to Meiji 10 (1877). Died at age 49. Born in Outsu, Oumi Province (Present day Outsu City, Shiga Prefecture).

Jirochou Doromizu, Terada Ayano & Terada Tatsugorou

Married to the sixth Teradaya (proprietor) Isuke, she succeeded her husband, who had a weak constitution, in the family business of serving food. She was dedicated to assisting people.

Isuke died in Genji 1 (1864) but she protected the Teradaya by not remarrying. Because Ryoma was in and out consulting with Satsuma-han in the summer of Keiou 1 (1865), he entrusted Oryo, who he also met in this period, to Otose.

Otose teasing on the Oryo and Ryōma roles [srsly see my other posts pls]

Later, on January 23, Keiou 2, Ryoma was attacked there by the police, subordinates of the Fushimi Magistrate, and seriously injured.

Ryoma, indebted to the proprietress, still missed her. We think she sat to be photographed but the bench is erased and she appears to be floating in space. As might be expected from a celebrated heroine, the fighting spirit she showed protecting the inn after the death of her husband was in the air. While Otose was caring for Ryoma, Ryoma probably carried quite a warm friendliness towards her.

I wanted to post this in honor of mother figures everywhere for Mother’s Day. I hope everyone had a great one with theirs.🕊

[sweetestlamb]

I've Got You Under My Skin Part 2

Author's note: Can you tell I'm inspired? A double fic post who is she? Dedicated to @serxeins because I know I can always count on you to read and comment and give me some good vibes.

Summary: She's not jealous.

He's not there the next day and it puts her in another foul mood, honestly who was he to invade her life like this and then leave as he pleased? She would be the one to send him away not the other way around, she was the one in control here.

She goes all the way to his house after work to inform him of this, slightly more prepared for his state of dress- he's only wearing a thin white shirt and flowy pants, both made of soft looking cotton.

"No wonder you're still sick. Look at you're wearing." She rolls her eyes at him not waiting to be invited in, he never waits for her and ignores her when she tells him to go away. It's their thing. Blatant disregard.

"That's shaming, that's no way to speak to a sick person. What medical school did you go to?"

"One that taught me to prioritize honesty over niceties."

She has more porridge but it's her mom's recipe the one she used to make when she was feeling sick and it was hard to keep anything down. She had suddenly remembered it the night before and woke up early to prepare it from sensory memory alone, she was hardly a chef but this was the only meal she could make without fail. If her eyes had prickled with instead tears as she stirred the pot that was no one's business but her own. She hadn't been able to make it for years now but for some reason she couldn't stop herself this morning.

"What's this?" He asks curious over her shoulder, his chin barely grazing her skin. She doesn't move away ignoring the thrumming his closeness elicits.

"Porridge."

"It smells good. It doesn't look like grandma's porridge. Where did you get it?"

"I made it." It's embarrassing admitting that she made anything for him, she feels like she's showing her hand far too much but can't get her mouth to stop revealing her heart.

"You're full of surprises. Let's heat it up."

He looks better now, no longer flushed and sweaty. The fever must have broken over night, he looks rejuvenated scooping the food into a pot and warming it up.

His house looks a bit cleaner today as well, the windows are open allowing a wonderful breeze to fill the space and sweep away the stench of sick in the air. She walks aimlessly until she sees a bit of material on the floor, bending to pick it up she glares at the material in her hand. It's a light pink scarf, thin and almost sheer. He has an eclectic style but this is indubitably a woman's scarf, she almost throws it on the ground in a fit.

"What are you doing?" He breaks her from her shock, walking towards her with twin bowls in his hands.

She almost hides the scarf away feeling ashamed of the searing hotness that rips through her chest like a current. But foolishly she swings her hand up presenting the offending item instead, narrowing her eyes as she peers at him.

"What's this?" She challenges, a voice in the back of her mind begs her to shut the fuck up but her anger pushes her forward recklessly.

He tilts his head looking intensely at the item before pursing his lips and answering, "I think it's a scarf."

No fucking shit Sherlock.

She looks at him unimpressed and unamused not quite understanding why she cares so much that there's a scarf- a feminine nother scarf in his house.

"I had a guest earlier. She probably left it." He replies lightly sitting their food down on the table and she follows him briskly still not satisfied with his answers.

"Give me back my porridge." She says childishly snatching away his bowl just as he's about to eat, the look of annoyance on his face brings her nothing but pure joy.

"What's your problem now?" He argues reaching for the bowl but she tugs it further out of his reach. With a long suffering sigh he stands up, stepping closer to retrieve the bowl but that move brings them chest to chest and she stares up at his bright eyes.

Bringing his hands up he touches the scarf in her hand, she drops it abruptly not wanting him to touch it at all now.

"Don't."

He stares at her long and hard, Adam's apple bobbing as their eyes lock. He shakes his head a tight smile on his face now and she wants to kiss that smug look right off his face. Wait.

What. What am I thinking?

The sound of his doorbell chiming breaks them free of this heated staring match, but not immediately he looks at her puzzled and is that something hotter, before slowly turning and walking towards the door.

"Hey, I think I left my scarf--"

A decidedly female voice sounds from the door and before she can second guess herself she grabs the discarded scarf from the ground and sashays over to the door. He looks completely surprised to see her walking over but barely reacts when she barrels next time, pulling the door open wider to see who's here to see them.

It's the new teacher that just moved into town, she hadn't yet been introduced to her but she'd heard nothing but bad things from the landlord. She was supposedly a man stealer.

"Oh! I didn't know you had a guest." The woman's gentle voice lifts in awe at her sudden arrival at the door.

"Here's your scarf." She thrusts the item fiercely at her, watching as the other woman jolts in surprise.

Du-sik looks curiously between the two seeming to feel the weird energy surging in the air.

"Miss Yoon this is--"

"Was that all you needed? We were in the middle of eating. He needs to regain his energy." She cuts him off, having no desire to be introduced to the other woman. The school teacher glances between the two of them being nodding slowly as if realizing something.

"Yes that was all. I'll leave you to your meals."

She watches as the school teacher disappears from sight, turning to walk back to the table.

"That was rude. Do you two have a problem with each other?"

Shrugging non-committally she pushes his porridge back across the space already digging into her own.

"Your meal will get cold. Stop saying nonsense and come eat."

He stares at her for a long time before retaking his seat and tasting the thick broth, she tries not to watch and wait for his reaction but it's probably a failure.

"It's delicious. I can't believe you made this."

Overlooking the backhanded compliment she hides her smile behind her spoon before looking up with a glare, "I'll never make it for you again." But it's an empty threat because she already made three containers worth in case he falls ill again.

"I'll turn off your electricity until you do."

She guffaws at the threat, grabbing the closest thing (a pen) and throwing it at him. It pings off his forehead and falls to the ground.

"Ow. That hurt."

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, no doubt her roommate asking about her whereabouts she had just suddenly disappeared out of nowhere after running out of the office. Swiping to open the phone she prepares for the onslaught of messages.

"---kiss it better."

She freezes at the words, dragging her eyes from the phone back up to his steady gaze. He's staring brazenly seemingly unashamed but the tint of red on his ears give him away, he's not at confident as he's pretending to be.

"What did you say?"

"I.....said you should kiss it better."

She has no clue what he's talking about but instinctively her eyes move down to his lips, blush pink and tempting they stand out on his pale skin. She wonders how they would feel under her own, if they would pucker up and press or bloom open giving her their sweet nectar. She wonders how many women he's kissed and if he's ever thought about kissing her.

"My forehead. I meant my forehead... because of the pen. I was just joking." He looks dazed now, still under her appraising gaze and she coughs swiftly moving her eyes and staring out the window.

"Mi-seon's looking for me. I should go."

Thankfully he doesn't comment on her running away again, he merely nods and collects their bowls.

"Thank you for the meal." She nods in response, her voice lost at the moment terrified of why she keeps coming here, what could she possibly want?

He walks her to the door, both of them dragging their feet and taking their sweet time.

"That was the worst part about not having parents."

She halts at his sudden confession, squeezing her fists tightly as she glances over at him.

"Not having anyone who cared when I was sick. It was never clearer how alone I was until those fleeting moments, there was no one to pat my back or bring me food or tell me I would be okay."

It's an ache she's used up, the ache of wanting something she'll never have. Years spent pretending she didn't miss her mother everyday. His honesty forces her own to the surface.

"That porridge was the one my mom used to make for me. I haven't made it since she...."

She doesn't finish her sentence but the look in his eyes tell her that she doesn't need to, he understands loud and clear.

"Thank you for making it for me. I'm honored." There is reverence in his voice as if he's never meant anything more in his life, it makes her heart tremble.

They don't speak anymore as she puts on her shoes and lays her bag across her body, reaching behind her he tugs the door open for her.

With a solemn nod she turns around ready to leave but a moment of temporary insanity makes her turn back and grab his shoulder for support, there's a look of genuine shock of his face before she leans onto the tips of her toes and presses her lips against his forehead.

Her cheeks are on fire as she draws back and his face looks painful from his red it is.

"You're going to be alright." With her last strand of courage she wraps her arm around and pats him on the back in comfort, his eyes are glossy and he looks years younger.

"I'm going."

She's aching to run but she walks away calmly until she's out of sight, throwing herself to the ground as soon as she turns the corner grabbing handfuls of her hair.

So much for being in control. Fuck.

[pparkersz]

and they were roommates | p.p [1/5]

summary: Ned’s really good friend Y/N is being evicted from her apartment and is in desperate need of somewhere to stay. When Ned finds out about her dilemma, he proposes to Peter they let her move in, and despite his hesitance, he agrees. Y/N gladly accepts Ned’s offer but upon moving in realizes that her new roommate Peter Parker was hiding something. A Spider-man Roommate/College AU. (masterlist)

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, aged up! peter parker & co.

a/n: hi everyone! i’ve fallen into the hole of p.p x reader fics and am inspired to start a new blog dedicated to fic writing. i’m excited to share this short series with you all. please feel free to send in any one-shot requests. :)

Y/N was in trouble.

With a groan, you let your head drop with a hard thump on the wooden table.

It wasn’t the kind of trouble most people would expect from a college student like forgetting to turn in an assignment before a deadline or sleeping in, and missing class one too many times.

No--this was the kind of trouble that your mother warned you might run into when you decided you were tired of living in the cramped dorms of Colombia University and that you wanted to move into an overpriced and even more cramped apartment with a flakey roommate.

Aria, said flakey roommate, decided last month that she no longer was interested in living with Y/N you had spent the last few weeks desperately posting ads on Craigslist and the campus bulletin board for a new roommate.

Just as you’d imagined, most people that replied on Craigslist were creeps and the few from school that responded to your poster decided last minute that the apartment was not to their tastes.

Despite working many, long hours at the closest family-owned café Bugle Beans for the last three years of your college life, Y/N did not have the money to pay rent and utilities on her own.

Your landlord had tried to be understanding but he’d been kind for long enough.

“I warned you that we don’t give extensions, kid,” he’d sighed to you earlier that morning. “I’m giving you a week to move out or you’ll find all your things outside.”

“I’m fucked,” you sighed into your hands. “I’m so fucked.”

“Like fucked fucked?” A teasingly inquisitive voice suddenly came from your right, startling you out of your miserable stupor. “Or I’m going to possibly fail out of a class and hurt my GPA fucked fucked?”

You lifted your head and couldn’t stop the genuine, small smile that crossed your face. “More like I’m going to be homeless in a week fucked.”

Ned Leeds, your only confidant on this huge campus took a seat across from you, gaze switching from teasing to concerned. “Y/N, what the hell?”

You bit your lip, lowering your hand to rest on your crossed arms. “I still haven’t found anyone to replace Aria and I can’t afford rent. My landlord’s giving me a week to pay up or get out.”

Ned winced beside you, patting your arm comfortingly. “Yeah, the city landlords are ruthless, and trying to find a roommate that’s not a psycho is even worse. I’m sorry.”

You blew out another sigh. “Don’t I know--”

“Y/N!” You jumped at the sound of Ned’s suddenly excited voice. “I have an idea!”

“Do tell.”

“Peter’s ex-girlfriend MJ moved out from our loft a few months ago and we’d been meaning to find a third roommate for a while now. It hasn’t really been a priority but it’s about time we try to find someone.” Ned’s brown eyes were shining excitedly as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “We need a roommate, you need a place. What do you say?”

For the first time in a month, you felt a small burst of hope in bloom in your chest.

“Ned, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, kid.”

“Ned Leeds,” you almost sobbed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I owe you all the free coffee and cookies in the world.”

Ned snickered, rubbing your back softly. “I’d have to talk to Peter but I’m sure he won’t mind.”

You pulled away and gave him a watery grin. “Let me know as soon as you can, please.”

“I’ve got you, friend,” he winked, getting up from the spot next to you. “I’ll text you tonight. You better start packing.”

___________________________________________________________________

“I just don’t think it’s wise right now, Ned.”

Peter Parker repeated this to his best friend for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening.

“Peter, she’s the best, I promise--”

“I’m sure she’s lovely,” the brown-haired young man interrupted, putting down his highlighter and looking away from his notes. “It’s just--with the whole Spider-man thing I don’t think it’s a good idea to have someone new here, man.”

At Ned’s crestfallen expression, he felt a sliver of guilt creep up.

It wasn’t necessarily that he had something against Y/N. He’d met her briefly a few times and Ned always spoke highly of her since they’d been randomly partnered for a project their freshman year.

“Pete,” Ned’s voice was desperate. “She got evicted from her apartment and has a week to come up with almost two grand or find somewhere to live. She doesn’t have many friends in the city. She needs us.”

Peter swallowed hard before releasing a sign. He couldn’t argue with Ned about that and his own conscience wouldn’t let him rest if he knew that someone was potentially going to be left homeless.

But he was hesitant.

He’d gotten used to not having to hide to anyone his superhero persona and the thought of having to be careful around someone new in his own home was not appealing to him.

When MJ moved out, he and Ned had decided they would eventually find a new roommate but there was no rush. Mr. Stark had kindly left a nice fund for Peter that helped them out with rent for a while and they’d fallen into a nice routine just the two of them with MJ occasionally coming over for movie night.

He and MJ were still good friends, having parted on good terms, so she was still around often.

He supposed though that they’d just be crossing the bridge he’d been much too comfortable to cross a lot sooner than he wanted.

Clearing his throat Peter gave Ned a nod. “Let her know the empty room’s hers if she wants it.”

Ned let out a breath of relief, giving Peter a grin. “You’re the best Pete. I promise I’ll help with covering for you if it comes down to it.”

Peter shook his head with a smile of his own, punching Ned lightly in the arm. “I’m counting on it, Ned. It’ll be like old times.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve cooked up a good story, eh?” Ned snickered as he remembered the various times he’d have to come up with excuses for Peter’s absences, suspicious behavior, and abnormal disappearances. He reached for his phone immediately opening up his messages. “I can’t wait to tell, Y/N.”

“Let her know I’d be happy to help her with moving in.” Peter offered quietly, turning back to his notes.

“Will do. “ Ned responded distractedly, typing away rapidly on his iPhone.

Peter raised a hand to his chin, rubbing it in thought. He didn’t like to call it his tingle, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t telling him that this might just be a bad idea.

[lindleland]

Massive vent post under the cut.

I have until May 1st to find a new home. I have no money - even though I work 40 hours a week, every week, which takes all the time I might be using to find a job that pays actual money, which doesn't even seem to exist anyway without dedicating a significant chunk of your life to learning a skill or trade or getting qualifications. I don't even want that. I just want to be able to keep a roof over my head and still be able to use my money to lead a half-decent life.

I don't have anything I can put down for a deposit. Due to a mix of COVID, government incompetence, and me generally struggling to keep my shit together at the best of times, I do not have a passport or provisional driving license, despite having paid for a passport in 2019. This means I cannot prove my identity to any estate agency even if I were to be able to have a deposit ready.

I have a very poor relationship with all but a very small handful of my family members, none of whom are in a position to be able to help me. I told my mother about the fact that I was going to be evicted, not because I wanted help from her, but because she is my only point of contact with much of the family and it would complicate things if she didn't know. I explicitly told her I didn't want help. She then contacted my grandfather, who is now 90 years old, to get him to give me money for a deposit. He has already given me money to deal with financial situations in the past. Getting him involved in this situation means getting him involved with the conflict with my abusive stepfather, as it would beg the question of why going back to live with them isn't an option. I have gone out of my way to not force him to have anything to do with this, for over two years.

Even if I were to accept his help with a deposit this doesn't even nearly fix the actual problem.

If, by some miraculous twist of fate, all of this is sorted out and I can rent a property, everything will be terrible from now on. I live in the most expensive region of the country outside of the London Metropolitan Area. Renting even the cheapest property in the town will completely fuck my finances every single month. The only option would be to move elsewhere, but I don't drive and my job has no transport links within 30 minutes, which means a minimum 30 minute walk on top of however long my commute is. So to live somewhere else, I would need a job that's more close by. And to get a job that's more close by, I would need to live somewhere else. Changing one half of the problem fucks the other one up.

And add to all that, I have a cat, and since all landlords are scumfuck bastards nobody wants to rent a property to a pet owner anyway.

The only way it is possible to rent in this town is to have a partner or a housemate. Unfortunately, I am apparently completely intolerable and have fallen out with literally every person I have ever lived in the same house as. Over the course of realising that basically every member of my social groups was an asshole over the course of 2019 and that the cause of a lot of my problems was settling for their company despite them all treating me like shit, I have alienated all but exactly two close friends. Neither are in a situation where co-renting would be an option.

In the midst of all of this, I have to keep spending 40 hours of every week working my ass off for a company that actively treats me like shit and pretend that nothing is wrong.

I'm seriously at my fucking limit.

In summary,

[giraffesvoice-whalesear]

✧ Founders CAS Challenge ✧

by @volcano-pasta, Thank you for a wonderful idea! And, @ladykendalsims,  Thank you for tagging me❤

Rules: Post all of your founders together to compare and contrast them! Share some details to see how similar or different they are. This can be done in CAS, or you can jump in game, or you can share old screenshots!

I often make time slips and play in a parallel world. So, I don’t have legacies. But I made this the founders of my sim stories because the Knot Family is a slowly growing.😆

👽 Knotn Knot 🍳 He is the founder since I started simblr. He was a writer traveling in space, but fell in love with the cats on the planet and settled there. He later adopted a human child for observation purposes and worked as a scientist, but returned to a freelance writer after giving birth. At first he was an unreliable father, but now Cooking skill MAX, Parenting skill MAX, Speed Cleaner, etc, He is a loving, dedicated father of three children.

👓 Thomas Knot 🧙 He is an adopted child of Knotn. He want to be a wizard and he was a daydreaming child. However, in a mysterious encounter, he learned that he was a wizard. Now he has grown into a teen, he lives with him mother in the magical world, learning Untamed magic from Morgyn.

🧵 Toneriko Shippo 🎃 He is a magic stuffed animal made by a cat named Madam. The Shippo family is the property of the landlord cat Madam, and the Knot family moved into that house and they met. He can't age. but grew up because he wanted to be near his best friend Thomas. He is still a mischievous child, but now learns mischief magic from L faba and is becoming a full-fledged Chief of Mischief.

🏡They have other families, but I'll skip them this time. For more stories, please read the character page or #ノットとシッポ,  #hawthorn and the fledglings, if you want :) 📚 Thank you for reading the entire!

Pose by @ratboysims, @simmerberlin, Thank you for lovely pose😍 And, Thank you to all the creators for the amazing CC💖

I tag, @floraia @illuner @missrubybird @budgie2budgie @xldkx, and everyone who wants to do this❤

[steve-rogers-new-york]

Redlining in America Part 3: Discrimination and Damage

This is Part 3 of a 3-part series on the history of redlining in America. If you’ve not read Part 1 and Part 2 yet, start there as it goes over the government agencies and assessment procedure that will be discussed in this post — Redlining in America - Part 1: The Origin of Redlining and Redlining in America - Part 2: Assessment

As addressed briefly in the previous post in this series — the assessment process used to decide who would receive government backing for mortgages was inherently discriminatory. The FHA and HOLC predominantly benefited the White middle-class, and disadvantaged Blacks, foreigners, and those in the working-class (often for generations to come).

Impact on Neighbourhoods and Properties

The segregation that came from the way neighbourhoods were graded meant that “undesirable” residents ( Blacks, immigrants, and working-class families) were confined to the least desirable areas and properties. These were typically the inner-city areas, close to central city business districts, industrial properties, shops, and schools. 

As residents were denied opportunities for homeownership, their only choice was to rent, and only in these less-desirable areas. The limitations opened up the opportunity for landlords to exploit the situation and charge high rent while ignoring repairs —which would inevitable lead to substandard living conditions and degradation of these neighbourhoods.

Further, the low grade applied to these neighbourhoods would discourage new property developments, give no incentive for improvements and repairs to existing buildings, and drive away new business investments that in-turn decrease small businesses and local employment opportunities. Neighbourhoods would face economic decline and withholding of services (when they weren’t extortionately priced).

Those few who did managed to secure mortgages, did so with far less beneficial terms, often charged more than their White, middle-class, counterparts. These harsher terms would result in higher rates of foreclosure and property turnover. The process of blockbusting took advantage of this high turnover and further fed on investment fear that came from the presence of “undesirable” residents moving into higher rated neighbourhoods. It was a form of psychological manipulation to drive off White residents who sold quickly as a loss, only to sell that property above market value to a Black family (or other similar groups) desperate for an opportunity to own property.

Long-term Effects

Neglected and abandoned properties, lack of investment in new buildings and businesses, and high-unemployment creates an accumulative effect on a community — long after redlining stopped being actively enacted by government agencies.

By the 1960s and 1970s, these effects could clearly be seen in many urban centers. Prospect Park West became known as a breeding ground for “prostitution, crime, vice, narcotics and immorality,” and many similar neighbourhoods saw some of the highest rates of poverty in the city.

Generational Economic Disadvantage With the denial of homeownership and reliance on renting, families would be locked into long-term renting and inability of build equity along side their privileged country-men. 

it has been show that Black men growing up in racially segregated neighbourhoods are less likely to gain upward mobility. This legacy of discriminatory treatment can trap people in intergenerational poverty and deny them opportunities availed to others whose grandparents who were able to build equity with homeownership in the 1930s-1950s.

Alongside the racial segregation of neighbourhoods that came from redlining, schools and other services like healthcare were detrimentally effected.

Even though redlining has been formally outlawed, it has not stopped the infrastructure of discriminatory practices from continuing. The legacy of redlining helped to create a racial wealth gap that persists in the United States today.

Redlining in America - Part 1: The Origin of Redlining

Redlining in America - Part 2: Assessment

Useful Resources

BOOK Rothstein, R. (2018) The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America. New York: Liveright Publishing Corporation. — This was probably the single most useful book I used during research.

WEBSITES  New America - “The History of U.S. Housing Segregation Points to the Devastating Consequences of Algorithmic Bias” Brick Underground - “Redlining: How one racist, Depression-era policy still shapes New York real estate” Black Past - “Redlining (1937- )”

My Research Notes - More Sources, Recs and Information

Image Sources

HOLC Map of Brooklyn, 1938 | Source Sterling Place by Meyer Liebowitz, 1961 | Source Children fleeing police during race-riot in Bed-Stuy, 1964 | Source Levittown residents outside homes, 1960-70s | Source Couple outside suburban home, c.1960-70s | Source

This post has been sponsored by my much loved and long-time Patreon supporter Joanna Daniels. She and I would like to dedicate the post to the loving memory of her mother Joan Daniels. She will be sorely missed.

[ Support SRNY through Patreon and Ko-Fi ] And join us on Discord for fun conversation! I also have an Etsy with upcycled nerdy crafts

[lixiepeach]

The Heart of the Sea, Part 3

Pairing: Arthur Curry x OC

Summary: Marina Allen has dedicated her life to conserving wildlife but when she stumbles upon the truth about the company she’s working for she decides to take a stand. A stand that leads her to nearly being killed and meeting her soulmate by chance. It seems like fate is intent upon repeating history but Arthur Curry has other ideas.

Warnings: Post Aquaman, soulmate AU, eventual smut, fluff, angst, attempted drowning, attempted murder, descriptions of thalassophobia

A/N: Longer chapter this time with a butt load of angst, so be warned. 

Masterlist | Part 1| Part 2

Marina has been around Atlanteans for approximately three days and she’s quickly learned how secretive they are. She knew they were secretive before, given the fact that they had remained hidden from common knowledge as nothing more than a myth for centuries until Arthur appeared in the public eye. But they weren’t keen on revealing much about their plans or what’s happening in Atlantis. She had figured this out when she and Arthur had been out on the dock looking at the ocean. That was one thing she liked about Arthur. Both of them were perfectly content sitting in silence while watching the ocean. She knew Arthur’s understanding of the ocean went far deeper than she could comprehend, far past her simple standing and staring. But she knew the chance of her getting a look inside his mind, her chance of gaining a better understanding was slim.

This thought is only further proved by what happens next.

They had been standing there, silent and content until a figure landed at the end of the dock. It was a woman, and even from the distance between them, Marina could tell she was tall. Her hair was bright red and shining in the sunlight, the green body suit she wore accentuating every feminine curve and just simply being a few feet from her made Marina doubt every ounce of self confidence she thought she had.

The last bit of strength Marina had shattered as soon as she looked up at Arthur’s smiling face. But his eyes weren’t on Marina. They were on the woman at the end of the dock. The woman doesn’t approach them, her eyes, blue and hard as a stormy sea flitted between the two a few times before settling on Arthur. The latter glances down at Marina, that smile faltering some.

“Why don’t you head back inside? I’ll be in after I take care of this.”

Marina feels like arguing but she doesn’t feel like it’s her place to do anything else but agree. She was his soulmate. In the sense of land dwellers she had every right to hear the conversation that would happen at the end of the dock. But she was surrounded by Atlanteans. She knew nothing of their culture, of their laws. For the first time since being around them, she truly felt insignificant. Like she was outside of something she had no right being a part of in the first place, but she couldn’t help but feel she should be a part of it.

She ambles back up to the house, watching as Arthur approaches the redhead. She greets him with a smile, a knowing, understanding smile that speaks volumes to Marina without her having to hear what’s being said. The redhead wraps her arms around Arthur’s neck, pulling him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Arthur doesn’t pull away, doesn’t appear to say anything, instead he wraps his arms around the redhead. She is tall as Marina had thought she would be, just a few inches shorter than Arthur.

Marina turns away from them, making her way back to the house after watching Arthur and the redhead interact for a moment. Arthur hadn’t pulled away from the hug completely, instead keeping his arms around her as they’d talked. Marina had caught his smile, unable to see the look in his eyes but she’s not sure she wants to. She’s seen enough. All the things he’d said to her just a matter of days before, the promises he’d made there on the beach...were they all empty words? Had it all meant nothing, and it was simply her brain making up the parts she wanted to hear? She doesn’t want to think about it anymore, isolating herself for the rest of that day. She didn’t consider herself a jealous person, but right now it was leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

*********

Three days after the redhead’s visit, Marina finds herself on the road with Arthur once again, this time heading to Boston. Arthur is taking her to her apartment so she could finish clearing it out. It’s not a terribly long drive, but they had set out early, wanting to get there after the morning rush to make sure there’s fewer people in the apartment building, and fewer people to spot them. Their ride is silent, Marina having chalked the interaction she’d witnessed up to nothing, instead shoving it down, pretending like she wasn’t filled with self doubt, like her minimal self confidence hadn’t been shattered by simply looking at someone her soulmate obviously had a history with.

She’s drowning in one of Arthur’s sweatshirts again, part of the plan to keep her as disguised as possible. She didn’t have her keys but Arthur said that wasn’t a problem. He was superhumanly strong and though the landlord would not be happy about a broken doorknob and lock, it wasn’t worth the risk to draw the attention of getting him to come and unlock the door. The fewer people that were aware of their presence, the safer it would be for her.

“You’re awful quiet.” Arthur says, glancing at her as they near the city.

“They’ll be watching the apartment. They’ll know when we’re there.”

“Not if we get in and out fast.” Arthur grips the steering wheel with one hand, reaching over and taking Marina’s with the other. He glances at her for a second before looking back at the road.  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

She squeezes his hand in response, not trusting her voice as she runs over every possible scenario in her head. Every moment that could go wrong, everything that could happen to them in the short time they were planning to stay. Just enough time for her to finish packing everything up and then enough time for them to get out and back to Amnesty Bay without being followed.

She directs Arthur to the apartment building, Arthur parking down the street a ways. They get out, the light rain thankfully giving them a reason to pull their hoods up. Arthur wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against her side. He’s big enough to shield her from the rain, but she keeps her face hidden nonetheless. Arthur scans the area, but the city is bustling as everyone goes about their day, giving them a good cover as they hurry to the front of the building.

They’re lucky enough to catch the door as someone goes out, too busy on his phone to notice them as they slip inside. The guard doesn’t look up from his post behind the desk as they make their way to the elevator, taking it five floors up. Marina leads him to her apartment, making sure the hallway is clear before he easily breaks the lock, pushing the door open. He makes sure the apartment is clear before ushering her inside. It’s a small apartment, nothing very special especially in its empty state. Marina heads back to the bedroom to finish packing up her closet, surprised to find everything still where it had been when she had left four days and had been kidnapped from the parking garage. She had already sent a few boxes to Seattle to her family where she was supposed to be going. She would have kept to that plan had it been safe for her to leave and had she not met her soulmate. She had let her family know what was going on, and they were surprisingly supportive of her decision to stay for the time being.

She hastily stuffs the rest of her clothes in the box already half full, filling a bag as well. Her hands are shaking as she hurries, wanting to get out as quickly as possible. Every noise in the hallway has her stomach twisting anxiously, a nervous sweat forming on her skin. She’s barely breathing, focusing more on packing the box, though her shaking hands is making her clumsy. She doesn’t doubt that Arthur could handle himself, that he could protect her if they were caught. She had seen the videos of him on the internet and knew he could handle himself, but it’s not a very comforting thought. She’d rather just not have to see it in person if she had a choice.

Arthur looks through the open box in the living room as Marina packs, finding a scrapbook on top. He flips through it curiously, finding newspaper clippings and photos of Marina, all from when she was younger. She’s holding various awards, being recognized for her work in the community when she was in high school. He flips through more pages, looking through the photos and cards and various other memorabilia inside.

“My mother put it together. She liked to keep everything that had my name on it and every picture of me. Remember my achievements.” Marina sets a box on the floor, standing next to him as she glances at the page he’s on.

“Where is she now?” He asks as he flips through the last page, but it’s not the last page in the book, several more pages empty, waiting to be filled.

“She died back in 2011. Cancer finally took her.”

Arthur can hear the change in her voice, the shift in her tone. She says it nonchalantly, like she’s said the sentence a thousand times, no doubt she has. But there’s a subtle shift in her tone, a downward pitch lending to the idea that even though it happened so long ago, it’s still painful for her to remember. “I’m sorry.” He says, putting the scrapbook back in the box, sealing the top.

“I’m just glad she’s not suffering anymore.”

Arthur takes the bag from her, lifting the heavier box with the scrapbook in it. “Got everything?”

She nods. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

She follows Arthur back down to the lobby, slipping out the door at the back this time. She had her spare key to her car, Arthur following closely as they make their way down two levels in the garage to where her car is parked. It’s still intact surprisingly, and she remembers she hadn’t even gotten it unlocked before they knocked her out from behind. She glances around, surrounded by parked cars as Arthur puts the boxes in her back seat. He closes the door, staring down at her.

“What if they have a tracker in it?”

Arthur puts a hand on the top of her car, leaning down close to her. “Then we’ll deal with it when the time comes.” He kisses her forehead. “I’ll catch up to you.”

She nods, watching him jog back to the stairs before getting into the car, starting it immediately. She doesn’t idle there, pulling out of the garage as fast as she can, getting out on the road, hoping to disappear in traffic in case anyone tries to follow. Thankfully, no one does that she can notice, escaping the garage alone. It’s impossible to tell in the Boston traffic if anyone is following, every car around her or that passes her making her heart jump a little. She’s on high alert, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles are white.

Her lip is between her teeth the entire way out of the city, her eyes constantly darting to her mirrors, watching the cars as she makes her way to the highway and out of the city. Her hands are cramping but she doesn’t loosen her grip, the steering wheel the only thing keeping her grounded. She keeps vigilant, not even relaxing as the traffic eventually disappears, Arthur in his dad’s truck the only one behind her. It seemed too easy. They had just walked in and out and...nothing. Something about it felt wrong...something had her on edge, just as she had felt the day they had taken her and nearly killed her.

She can’t bring herself to relax even as they pull off the main road, driving down to the lighthouse. She was tempted to park the car on the road, but it would still lead them to the lighthouse, regardless. She takes a deep breath after she parks, turning the car off. The sun is getting low, their trip having most of the day. Tom comes outside when he hears them pull up, Arthur grabbing a box out of her car.

Tom looks relieved as he comes over to them. “Did everything go alright?”

Arthur smiles at his father. “Yeah. Got in and out with no sign of anyone seeing so far.”

Tom nods, taking the other box. “Good. Dinner’s almost ready if you’re hungry.”

Marina, despite everything, is starving. She hadn’t eaten since their early breakfast before they left and was feeling hungry despite the worry still gnawing at her. She carries her bag, following Tom and Arthur back into the house. The smell of stew cooking inside has her mouth watering, but she follows the men up to Arthur’s room to drop off her things.

Tom leaves them alone after setting the box on the bed. Marina strips out of the damp sweatshirt she’d been sweating in all day. It’s slightly embarrassing, but she’d been a nervous sweater her entire life. She’s glad to have her own clothes to wear as well. She’s digging through the haphazardly packed box when she feels a hand on her bare skin. She had been in a tank top under the sweatshirt, one she’d been wearing the day they had kidnapped her. It’s not the tank top though that’s drawn his attention, however. She closes her eyes, biting her lip as calloused fingers trace over the ink on her back, sitting above her right shoulder blade. She’d got it done when she was 18 to commemorate her favorite porpoise. She stays still as he traces the tattoo of the orca on her skin, her heart pounding for a different reason now.

“You like orcas?” His voice rumbles behind her, nearly vibrating against her back from his proximity.

She nods. “They’ve been my favorite porpoise since the 5th grade.”

He’s silent for a moment, his hand sliding higher and settling on her shoulder. “Have you ever seen one in person?”

She shakes her head. “No. My 5th grade class took a trip to the San Juan Islands to whale watch among other educational things but we saw no orcas.”

“Would you like to meet one?”

She turns around, looking up at him. “I-I...what?”

He grins at her. “Would you like to meet an orca? In person?”

“I-I don’t...how would I…” She flounders for a moment, looking up at him.

He smirks. “King of the sea, remember?”

She closes her mouth, nodding slowly. “Right. That makes sense.”

“Someday soon I’ll introduce you.”

She nods, turning back around to dig through her clothes, settling on a plain t-shirt. Her arm brushes against Arthur’s chest as she pulls the shirt over her head, his body still right behind hers. She slowly turns once she pulls her shirt on, looking up at him. He’s staring down at her intensely, his golden eyes boring into her. She finds she can’t hold his gaze, looking down as she smoothes her hands over the nonexistent wrinkles in her shirt.

“We, uh, we should go down to dinner…” She avoids looking up at him, ready to slip past him if she needs to.

She doesn’t have to, Arthur taking her hand instead, leading her down to the kitchen for dinner.

Dinner is oddly quiet, but Marina is too hungry to really pay much attention to it. She’d had a long, emotionally taxing day and there was still a lot going through her head. She's not totally convinced that she would be safe even at the lighthouse and their trip still had her reeling. If they were watching, they had done a good job at hiding themselves. She’d have to search her car tomorrow to check for any tracking device inside, not that she would entirely know what to look for. But, then again, tomorrow could be too late. For all she knew they were on their way here right now and they’d kill four people instead of just one. They had seen Arthur on the boat and they would have seen him with her earlier that day. They’d know to prepare for him and what if they could find a way to subdue him? Separate them so they could take her out? Just find a way to kill all of them? She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t get innocent people killed because of her.

*********

The moon is high in the sky, the only source of light in the house. It’s silent, only the sound of the waves outside and the occasional creak of the settling house the only sounds breaking that silence. Marina is still awake, watching the stars outside the window as they move through the sky. She’ll have to be quiet, not wanting to wake the sensitive Atlanteans in the house, one of which she’ll have to pass on her way to the door.

She’s quiet as a mouse as she slips on her shoes, grabbing the bag she’d packed before she’d settled into bed. She’d debated getting some rest but she couldn’t get her mind to settle enough to do so. She’d been trying to figure out where to go. She’d found her wallet which she had thankfully forgotten the morning they had taken her so she could draw the money out of her account, but it wasn’t much. It could get her to Seattle but that involved buying a plane ticket and for all she knew they’d be waiting on the ground at Sea-Tac for her. All they had to do was grab her again, and she’d be done for. Or they’d given up the chase and she could go on living her life. The former was the most likely scenario, at least to her.

Marina slips down the stairs, taking them one at a time, careful not to make any noise. Her keys are shoved in her pocket, one hand on the rail, the other holding her bag so it doesn’t thump against anything. Each step has her heart racing, her breath frozen as she sneaks as quietly as she can to the bottom of the stairs. Now all she had to do was to get from the stairs to the door. The only obstacle? The sleeping giant on the couch. It was too small for him, his feet hanging off the end. The sight of him on the too small couch had her guilt intensifying. She’d taken over his room, forcing him to sleep in such an uncomfortable position. She should have been on the couch. He was a king after all.

She slowly creeps forward, walking on her toes to be as silent as possible as she passes the couch. She doesn’t waste any time looking at him as she passes, knowing she may talk herself out of leaving if she does. She knows it’ll hurt, going against what she’d told him. She wasn’t necessarily rejecting him. She’d heard of long distance soulmates before. But those usually involved constant contact and the plan of meeting up again. She was trading one ocean for another, one coast for another, but the ocean was his domain as much as the land was. More than the land was. He could easily show up in Puget Sound and find her if he wanted. She’d probably be safer moving somewhere in the middle of the continent. Somewhere far from the ocean. But she couldn’t do that. She loved the ocean too much. It had too many memories to just give it up out of fear. She could leave the East Coast, but she’d be trading it for the Pacific Northwest. That was a trade she would willingly make.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Marina has to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from making any noise. The voice had been low and quiet, but still startled her in the dark. She was two feet from the door, completely visible to the person on the couch now, the light from the moon illuminating the living room. She had thought her heart was in her throat before, but now it was nearly beating out of her chest. Perhaps if she had looked at him, she would have been saved from the scare. It turns out he hadn’t been asleep like she’d thought. Either that, or she wasn’t nearly as quiet as she’d thought she’d been.

“You’re not going to leave.” He gets up off the couch, making his way over to her.

She stands up taller, not doing much compared to him, but it makes her feel slightly better. Like she can do this. “I have to. I’m not letting anyone get hurt because of me.”

He shakes his head, taking steps closer to her until he’s nearly chest to chest with her. “No one’s going to get hurt. I’ve already told you, I can keep you safe.”

“But at what cost? What if they find me? What if...what if your parents get hurt because of me?”

He scoffs. “They’ve been through worse. They can handle themselves should something happen. But if you go out there alone, if you leave, I can’t keep you safe.”

“But what if I don’t want you to keep me safe?” She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth. She can see in the pale light coming in through the windows he wasn’t expecting them. She feels everything bubbling up, the emotions she’d been facing the past few days since the encounter on the dock and the stress of their trip to Boston mixing, swirling inside her like a whirlpool she can’t control. She knows she’s treading in dangerous waters, but she can’t gain control of it and she knows things are about to get bad. “Look, I appreciate you saving my life. I do. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me...but this isn’t going to work. A part of me wants it to. A part of me thought it could but it just can’t.”

“I told you, I’m going to make this work. I’m going to find a way.”

“But if you can’t? I’m not like you. I can’t ever be like you and all that’s going to do is cause me pain. It’s going to cause me pain, and it’s going to cause you pain.”

“I don’t care about it causing me pain. I’ll do anything for you, Marina. I’ll turn my back and leave Atlantis if that’s what it’s going to take. Don’t give up on this before it even has a chance. Don’t give up on us.”

Marina feels tears stinging her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. She can’t ask him to do something like that. I mean, she could, but she couldn’t bring herself to live with the guilt that he turned his back on being King of Atlantis just for her. Just to be with someone who may not even live to see next week. She thinks back to the redhead on the dock, the way she’d looked at him, the way they’d interacted. That was something that could happen. That was something possible. With her there wasn’t anything. “I was told all my life soulmates are supposed to be equals. Two different sides but on the same coin. That won’t ever be possible for us. We’ll always be two different sides of two different coins. I don’t see how that will ever not be painful. How that won’t drive us apart no matter how hard we try to fight it. I was willing to try, I was willing to figure something out, but now...now I can’t be sure. I don’t know what I want anymore. So much has happened and now this...I just...I can’t...I don’t think-”

She’s cut off by a pair of lips meeting hers. It takes her by surprise, her words cut off suddenly as he kisses her. His facial hair is rough against her skin, tickling her but she quickly forgets about it, forgets about everything they had just been talking about. The whirlpool that had been nothing but a swirling vortex inside of her suddenly dissipates, sending shock waves through her very being. Or maybe that was just an effect of his kiss.

He takes the bag out of her hand, dropping to the floor with a thud. Her back meets the door behind her, a big hand snaking around to settle on her lower back. He tastes salty, briny, like the sea. It’s not unpleasant though, her body trembling from the withdrawal of the adrenaline that had just been coursing through her and the feel of her soulmate closer than he’d ever been.

He pulls away after a moment, leaning his forehead against hers. “You were thinking too much.” They catch their breath for a moment, his nose brushing against hers. “You’re staying here. There’s going to be sacrifices that have to be made if this is going to work, but I told you I would find a way, and I always keep my promises.”

She looks into his eyes again, glowing slightly in the dark. Again there’s no sign of a lie in them, instead their full of genuine determination. “You’re very stubborn, you know.”

He breaks out in a grin. “That shouldn’t surprise you. You’ve met my dad.” He bends down, grabbing her bag before slinging it over his shoulder. “Come on. You need to get some rest.”

She lets him lead her back up the stairs, both of them being quiet as they make their way back to his room. The air in the house is cool, the seasons in the process of changing with winter quickly on the way. Marina pulls off her boots again, sitting on the bed where she’d occupied earlier that evening. Arthur watches her, standing by the doorway. She looks up at him, his form partly hidden in the dark, but she can see his eyes reflecting the light from the stars.

“No trying to sneak out in the middle of the night again, alright?” She nods her answer, looking down at her hands. “Now get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.”

He’s halfway out the door when she finally finds her voice. “Arthur?”

He pauses, turning to look back at her. She thinks about everything that had happened that day, the panic she’d felt, the exhaustion from the tension she’d had all day. The broiling emotions that had been coursing through her on their mission to get her apartment cleared out weighing down on her still. She thought about the fear she’d felt, the guilt she’d had at the thought she could cause three innocent people’s deaths. The fear that had driven her to almost making a stupid decision and leaving the only safe place she’d been in a long time. The only place that felt like it could be a home, the only person that felt like they could be a home. She finds herself looking back at him, worrying her lip again. “Will you stay with me?”

For a moment he doesn’t move, making her worry her lip even more. It’s a bad habit, one she’s had since she was little, something that both sides of her family were guilty of doing. She keeps worrying her lip even as he moves back into the room, closing the door behind him. He strips out of his shirt, climbing into the bed next to her. The large bed suddenly seems much smaller with him on it, but she doesn’t mind.

He reaches out, pulling her lip from between her teeth. “You’re going to make yourself bleed if you keep doing that.” His hand slides to the back of her neck as he leans up, kissing her again. “Get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”

He lays back down, keeping himself distanced as much as he can from her. She lays down on her side, her back to him as she pulls the covers up. She can feel his warmth despite the few inches between them, and she finds its comforting despite the turmoil she’d been through thanks to him over the past few days. She finds the anger, the jealousy, any bad feelings she’d been harboring disappearing as she lays next to him, eventually drifting off to sleep.

Part 4

[pixiealtaira]

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.”

[emospritelet]

Back in Business - Chapter 1

My RCIJ fic for @winterswanderlust, which I split into three because it got out of hand XD.  Prompt: sunflowers, out of business, AU.  The total fic has UST, a little angst, some smut and a side of Ruby Slippers

Rating: whole fic E, this chapter T

Word count: whole fic 20,067, this chapter 5,985

Also on AO3

As a child, Belle French had once read a Ted Hughes poem called November, which began with the line “the month of the drowned dog”. The poem had filled her with an unfamiliar and unwelcome sense of foreboding, and now that she was in the northern hemisphere, in the dark and cold of winter, she was reminded of it. She missed Melbourne, with its hot sun and long stretches of sand and the way the evening air was filled with the shouts of children playing on the beach and the scent of flowers. Her father’s decision to pack up and leave, moving halfway around the world to a town in Maine, of all places, had been hard to accept. She found November in Storybrooke to be dark and ominous, filled with leaden skies and heavy rain, the wind bitingly cold and on the cusp of snow. The two-bed home they had rented failed to keep out the wind entirely, and Belle had lain awake the first night, listening to it whistle and moan, an unquiet soul in the strange house that was already too quiet, too bleak. Her father had changed since her mother had died, grown bitter and withdrawn, and while she could understand wanting to run from everything that reminded him of his old life with the woman he loved, it didn’t fix the pain. It didn’t fix anything.

The town of Storybrooke was considered small, by American standards, but large enough that she was still finding her way around after almost a week of exploring. She thought that she was starting to make friends, though. Ruby, one of the waitresses at Granny’s Diner, was sweet, with a ready smile and kind nature, and Belle had only had to order takeout coffees twice before she was invited to the regular Friday girls’ night at the local bar.  Ruby had also offered her a job waiting tables, working shifts with her and another girl called Ashley, but Belle had politely declined. She had a job in the flower shop that her father had rented as a fallback, but had her sights set elsewhere.

Her career plans required a visit to the Town Hall to make some enquiries with whoever was responsible for municipal services, and Belle hurried along the street, clutching her too-thin coat around herself and glancing anxiously up at the iron-grey sky that was threatening rain. She ducked inside the Town Hall with relief, and, having explained what she was enquiring about, was asked to wait for the relevant clerk. Dorothy Gale was a pretty, no-nonsense young woman with an air of efficiency, dark brown hair braided into two side-plaits. She eyed Belle with growing approval as she explained what it was that she wanted.

“I’d have to run it past the Mayor,” said Ms Gale. “Perhaps before the next Council meeting. There are certainly funds in the budget to cover the post, and God knows it would be good to get that resource going for the kids in this town. We just haven’t had a suitable candidate raise the issue. The place has been closed for as long as I can remember.”

“Well, I can show you my qualifications,” said Belle anxiously. “I had a job working part-time in the Melbourne library since I graduated last year, and—”

Ms Gale raised a hand, cutting her off.

“I don’t doubt you’re qualified,” she said. “But save it for the Mayor. If she wants to raise it at the meeting, of course. I don’t want to make any promises; there have been a lot of calls on town funding this past year.”

“Well, I appreciate your honesty,” said Belle. “But I’m sure you’ll agree that the children of this town deserve a dedicated library facility with all that would entail. Reading classes, story time, opportunities for after-school study sessions…”

Ms Gale was smiling.

“Like I said, save it for the Mayor,” she said. “You don’t have to convince me.”

“Okay.”

Belle sat back, feeling pleased. Ms Gale finished what she was writing, and looked up with a quirk of one eyebrow.

“You’ll need to convince Mr Gold, though,” she said.

Belle’s eyebrows drew down.

“Mr Gold?” she said, in puzzlement. “Isn’t that - I think that’s our landlord.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it,” said Ms Gale, straightening up and flicking her braids back over her shoulders. “He owns almost all the property in town. Including the library. The post would be funded by the town, but he would need to agree to the library being reopened. Which he’s so far failed to do.”

“What?” Belle blinked, surprised. “He doesn’t want the town to have a library?”

Ms Gale shrugged.

“I can think of six people off the top of my head who’ve asked him to rent the place to them,” she said. “Not for a library, admittedly, but someone wanted to turn it into a bookstore. Another person wanted to open up one of those books-and-coffee places. He turned them all down.”

“Oh.” Belle fidgeted, tugging at the hem of her skirt. “Do you know why?”

She shook her head, braids swinging.

“Maybe their business plans were bad, although you’d think any rent he could get for the place would be better than none.”

“So you think I’m wasting my time?” asked Belle, somewhat crestfallen, and Ms Gale shrugged again.

“Just saying don’t get your hopes up,” she said. “Even if he says yes, it could need some work doing before it would be suitable for use as a public building again. I imagine you’d need his agreement to cover that before the Mayor would even consider offering you the post.”

“Oh.” Belle chewed her lip. “Oh. Well, in that case, I’d better go try to convince him. Where can I find him?”

Ms Gale gestured with her pen.

“Back down to Main Street, go past Granny’s and the bakery. He owns the pawnshop on the corner. Can’t miss it.”

“Right.” Belle pushed back her chair. “Well, thank you. You’ve been a big help.”

“A moment.” Ms Gale set down her pen, folding her arms on the desk. “I should warn you. Gold’s not known for his generosity. Everything comes with a price with him. He likes to stick to the letter of any agreement he makes, and he and the Mayor are not on the best of terms.”

“Oh.” Belle felt a sliver of unease work its way beneath her skin. “Oh, well I - I guess I’ll have to do my best!”

“Good luck,” said Ms Gale. “If he agrees, come back and let me know.”

Belle walked back out onto the street, rain from the seemingly ever-present clouds just starting to spit. It grew heavier as she walked back towards Main Street, and she shivered a little, tugging her coat around herself and wishing that she had thought to buy an umbrella. She suspected that the few winter clothes she had purchased in advance of travelling to Maine would be both ineffective and insufficient, and she resolved to get a proper winter coat and some sturdier boots. Just as soon as she could be sure of earning her living as a librarian.

At just after four-thirty in the afternoon, it was already growing dark, the thick clouds adding to the sense of approaching night. Rain was drumming against the sidewalk by the time she scurried past Granny’s, and she shot the diner a furtive glance, its cheerful, warm light tempting her to duck inside and wait out the downpour. After a week in this town, however, she was well aware that the rain was probably only just getting started, and from the directions Ms Gale had given her, Mr Gold’s shop was not far. She pushed her chin down into her collar, hunching her shoulders, and quickened her pace, feeling a wave of relief go through her as she spotted the lit sign hanging outside her destination. Mr. Gold: Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer.

The shop was faced with sea-green clapboard, and she grasped at the rain-spattered door handle, pushing open the door. A bell above tinkled merrily as she ducked inside, and she quickly shut the door behind her to keep out the rain. She shook the water from her palm, instinctively wiping it against her coat as she looked around. The shop was quiet and seemingly empty, its floor laid with shining dark wood. It smelt of beeswax and very faintly of the musty scent of old books. A counter was in front of her, with an ancient cash register placed to one side of it. Paintings in a myriad of sizes were hung on the wall behind in ornate gold-painted frames: landscapes and bowls of fruit and people in clothes that were two centuries old or more. Clocks ticked in a low, comforting rhythm, and lamps with shades of coloured glass and painted silk sat in sconces on the walls, sending out a yellowish light that gave the place an air of something out of its time, pulled from the nineteenth century into modern day America, a tiny capsule of the past frozen in the present. The shelves of the shop held a myriad of objects: porcelain figurines and glittering glass vases, ancient toys in scuffed cardboard boxes, old books and silver plate. Glass counters stood in front of the shelves, shining warm light onto the treasures within, tea sets and trinkets, necklaces and netsuke, jade and jewellery.

“May I help you?”

Belle jumped, her head turning towards the back of the shop. A man had appeared, standing in front of a thick, patterned curtain, his hands folded over a gold-handled cane with a dark, gleaming shaft. He was short and slight, dressed in a slim-fitting dark suit that had to have been made for him. It was a three piece, the waistcoat over a silk shirt the colour of rich claret, the tie a lustrous black. His face was angular, with high cheekbones and a long nose, framed by soft sweeps of brown hair just starting to turn silver at the temples. Dark eyes ran over her before snapping back up to meet hers, and she was suddenly very aware that her hair was plastered to her head and rainwater was dripping from her coat in a steady stream to pool on the floor around her.

“Are you Mr Gold?” she asked, and his mouth lifted at one corner.

“Well, it is my shop.”

His voice was low, a growling whisper, thickened with the burr of a Scottish accent, and Belle could feel herself blush, her heart starting to thump as his eyes gleamed at her.

“Of - of course,” she stammered. “Sorry, I just—”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he interrupted, and took a step forward, the cane tapping against the floor. “I suspect you’re Mr French’s daughter, yes?”

“I - yes.” Belle licked a droplet of rainwater from her lip. “How did you guess?”

“The accent is something of a giveaway,” he said, with a tiny grin. “How may I help you?”

“I, uh—”  Belle shook water from her hands, droplets spattering on the floor. “I understand I need to talk to you about reopening the library building.”

One of his eyebrows flicked, the merest indication of surprise.

“That place hasn’t been open in years,” he said, and his voice was suddenly, strangely flat. Emotionless.

“Yeah, so I heard,” said Belle. “Do you know why?”

“Because I chose not to open it,” he said simply.

“That’s - kind of a circular answer,” she said, and his mouth thinned, fingers opening and closing on the cane, irritation plain in the set of his jaw.

“My reasons are my own, Miss French.”

“Oh, of course!” she said hastily. “It’s your property, and - and I don’t mean to pry, it’s just - well, I just moved here, and I saw it, and I couldn’t help thinking that the town needed a library, and - and I’m looking for a job, so it just seemed a perfect fit, that’s all.”

Mr Gold eyed her in silence for a moment.

“Well, I do own the building,” he said eventually. “You’re a librarian?”

“I am.”

She drew herself up, feeling a swell of pride as she always did when she spoke of her profession. Mr Gold looked her over again, his gaze calculating, and she wondered what it was that he saw beyond her wet hair and unsuitable clothing.

“You’d need to get the Mayor to agree to pay the rent and to hire you,” he said then. “I have no say in how she chooses to allocate town funds.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said. “But - but I need you to agree to open it up for business first, right?”

Mr Gold continued to watch her, his fingers drumming slowly on the cane handle.

“I never intended to open the place again,” he said quietly, and she gave him her best smile.

“Well, then I guess I’ll have to convince you.”

Mr Gold sucked in his cheeks a little, as though he was thinking it over. A rumble of thunder outside made her jump, and he smiled slightly.

“You seem to have run afoul of the oncoming storm, Miss French,” he said. “Would you like to come through to the back room to dry off? I could make us a drink, if you like.”

He turned on his heels, shining shoes swivelling, the light catching his hair as he pushed the curtain to one side and disappeared. For a moment Belle hesitated, left in the dimly-lit shop with its ticking clocks and the rhythmic drip of water from the sleeves of her coat. She raised her chin, stepping forward to follow him, the woven curtain a little rough against her fingertips as she pushed it aside.

The back room of Mr Gold’s shop was more haphazard than the shop itself. Shelves held a jumble of items, some still in thick cardboard boxes. Heavy ledgers sat in a row on one of the lower shelves, and there were benches with lamps and magnifying glasses and delicate tools that she presumed were for repairing things. Mr Gold was standing in front of a carved mahogany cupboard, and glanced over his shoulder.

“I could make you tea,” he said. “Or given the hour and the fact that you’re drenched, perhaps you’d prefer something stronger?”

“Something stronger sounds good,” she said fervently.

He nodded, reaching into the cupboard and retrieving a bottle of whisky before setting it on the bench and reaching for two cut crystal glasses. Belle watched as he hooked the cane on one arm and opened up the whisky, pouring a measure into each glass. He turned to her and held one out, that tiny smile still twisting his mouth.

“I hope this is satisfactory,” he said.

She nodded, taking it. Not her usual drink, but she’d deal. He took a sip of his own drink, cradling the glass in one hand and looking her over as he took the cane and got it under himself once more. She wondered how he had hurt himself, and whether it was permanent. With a cane as sleek and ornate as that, she suspected that he had been injured for many years. She raised her glass and inhaled the fumes, the sharp burn of whisky in her nostrils, an aftertaste of peat and warm honey. One sip, and fire coursed its way down her throat, smooth after the initial burn, its flames licking over her from within. She shivered, and Mr Gold set down his glass.

“Where are my manners?” he said, almost to himself. “You must be freezing. Let me take your coat.”

He walked over to her, and Belle put her glass on the bench, shrugging off her coat. The rain had soaked through the shoulders, and she cursed her own stupidity at not buying something thicker and more suitable for the Maine weather. Mr Gold’s hands were at her shoulders, drawing the coat down her arms.

“You’re soaked through,” he whispered. “You’ll catch your death. Here.”

Losing the coat made her realise how cold she was, her blouse sticking to her skin where the rain had gotten through, and Mr Gold hung her coat over the back of an old chair, striding swiftly to one of the shelves and retrieving a thick bundle of folded fabric. He shook it out, revealing a patterned woollen shawl in dark green and gold. Belle took it from him gratefully, wrapping it around herself and perching on one of the wooden stools beside the bench. Warmth immediately began to seep into her, and she picked up her glass again, sipping at her whisky.

“Thank you,” she said, and he nodded, taking a drink.

“Now,” he said quietly. “You wanted to talk to me about the library. Convince me to open it.” He gestured to her, fingers splaying outwards. “The floor is yours.”

Belle leaned forwards.

“Well, I’m fully qualified,” she said eagerly. “I was working at a library in Melbourne before we moved over here, although it was only part-time, and I have a ton of ideas that I’d like to try out with the local kids. Book clubs, after-school sessions, that kind of thing.”

“And you wish me to reopen a building that’s been closed for decades in order to facilitate this?”

“I - well, I - I hoped,” she said. “I saw that it was closed, and I - I wondered.”

“Another building wouldn’t suit your purpose, then?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I didn’t see any other places that were vacant, and given that it has a big sign outside saying ‘Library’, I figured I’d go with that one.”

Mr Gold took another drink, watching her over the rim of his glass, an intense, searching look, and she put her head to the side.

“Are you saying you have another suitable building I could use instead?”

“No,” he said abruptly. “Commercial real estate in Storybrooke is somewhat limited.”

“All the more reason to make use of what you have, then.”

His lips twitched, as though he were amused.

“So now we come down to my true interest in this matter,” he said, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s in it for me?”

“What could be more rewarding than knowing you’re helping to provide a valuable public resource?” she said, with wide-eyed innocence, and he grinned.

“Please. Be serious.”

“Well, if you want to be mercenary about it,” she said dryly. “I guess you’d get some rent out of it, too.”

“I don’t need the money.”

“Then you’re not losing anything by it, either.”

Mr Gold took another drink, watching her with the light of interest in his eyes. She wondered what he was thinking. He put down his glass.

“I daresay it’ll need a good clean,” he said.

“Oh, I can do that,” she said hastily. “I mean, as long as there are no major maintenance issues, of course.  If it’s just cleaning…”

“I also imagine that the selection of books in there is less than stellar,” he added. “It certainly hasn’t been added to since the library closed. You might want to ask the Mayor for extra funds.”

“Right.” Belle felt less sure that that request would be successful, but his response made her brighten. “Does that mean you’ll agree to open the building again?”

He gave her a twisted little smile, the fingers of one hand opening out in a fan. He had long fingers, she noticed, with smooth, neatly-trimmed nails.

“Well, it’s just sitting there gathering dust and costing me money,” he said dryly. “If you can make it work, all the better for me. Perhaps it’s time.”

“Right,” she said again, and took another drink, her mind working. He seemed to sense it, and tilted his head.

“Is there something else that you want to ask?”

“I was told that everything comes with a price with you,” she said.

Mr Gold sucked in a breath, tutting softly as he shook his head.

"It appears the townsfolk have been telling dark tales of my rapacity," he said, sounding amused. "What concerns you, Miss French?"

“Well - I guess I’m wondering what your price for this is.”

“That would be the rent that I’ll receive from the municipal funds, as you mentioned,” he said mildly, and raised an eyebrow. “Is there a different price that you’d prefer to pay?”

His eyes were glinting at her, gold flecks of reflected light shining on dark irises, and she licked her lips.

“N-no.”

Mr Gold showed his teeth, a gleam of gold on his lower jaw where one had been replaced.

“Excellent,” he said. “In that case, I suggest you make your case to the Mayor. You may tell her that the proposal has my full support.”

“Thank you.”

She took another drink, and there was a moment of silence. He was watching her, eyes dark and unblinking. The thunder rumbled again, and there was a flash of lightning outside the window. Mr Gold gestured towards the front of the shop.

“I’d offer to show you around the library,” he said. “But perhaps we ought to wait until the rain has died down a little.”

“Does that ever happen?” she asked wryly, and he grinned.

“North-eastern seaboard not to your taste, Miss French?”

“Back home it’d probably be in the seventies, and I’d be seeking out the air-con,” she said, and his grin widened.

“So what brings you to Maine, then?”

“Change of scene, I guess,” she sighed. “My mother died. Dad couldn’t bear to stay in our old place after that, and I - I didn’t feel that I could let him be by himself in a strange country while he was grieving, so…”

She shrugged, taking another drink, and he continued to watch her.

“Moving to the other side of the world is a little drastic,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You ever lose someone you loved?”

He didn’t answer that, but his eyes glittered, and eventually he glanced away.

“So, your father is a florist,” he said. “I hope his business venture is successful. This world could always use a little more beauty in it.”

“I’ll be helping him set up,” she said. “I’m hoping he’ll be able to take someone else on to help out, though. If the Mayor lets me run the library, that is.”

He took a sip of whisky, amber liquid shining in the glass, and she watched as the tip of his tongue swept a stray droplet from his lower lip. It gave her a familiar sensation in the depths of her abdomen, a tightening that she recognised as arousal. The thought made her cheeks heat, and she buried her nose in her glass to hide her blush. When she raised her eyes, though, Mr Gold was smiling a tiny secretive smile, as though he could read her thoughts, and was amused by them.

“I understand that it’s just you and your father living out at the house he rented from me,” he said. “Did no one else travel with you?”

“It’s just us,” she confirmed. “I’m sure if Dad were ever to decide to take in a lodger, he’d have to get you to okay it, right?”

“Is that likely?”

“Not as long as the shop prospers, no.”

“And how likely is that?”

Belle gave him a flat look.

“You ask a lot of questions,” she said, and he grinned again.

“Well, I’m a curious person. Goes with the territory.”

“Landlord?”

“Pawnbroker,” he clarified. “I lend money. Knowing people’s business is an unfortunate but necessary side-effect of that.”

Belle sighed, but nodded in acknowledgement.

“Dad knows the trade well,” she said. “His shop in Melbourne was always profitable. I guess it depends on how well that knowledge transfers to a town in Maine.”

Mr Gold sat back a little.

“And how are you finding our little town?” he asked. “Met anyone interesting?”

“Oh, yes,” she said dryly, and his smile widened as she failed to elaborate.

“Have you inherited your father’s passion for flowers?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Well, I like them, and I have a reasonable grasp of the business itself, but I don’t think I have his flair,” she said. “I’m fine with the simpler arrangements, but if it’s something like designing table centrepieces for weddings or something - he’s so much better! I won’t be taking on the family business, that’s for sure.”

“Do you have a favourite flower?”

“Sunflowers,” she said immediately. “They always cheer me up. My mother used to bring bunches back to the house with her, and there were always some in the old cream jug she kept on the table.”

She bit her lip, looking down at the whisky swirling in her glass. Memories flooded into her head, the scent of flowers and herbs in their kitchen, the chirp of insects outside and the hiss of the sprinkler watering the flowerbeds. The sound of her mother singing off-key as she sliced oranges for juicing. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she closed them firmly. She had had enough of crying.

“Miss French.”

Mr Gold’s words were soft, gentle, but she started, eyes flicking open. He was watching her with an unreadable expression.

“I’m sorry if my question caused you pain,” he said quietly, but she shook her head.

“No, it’s just - memories, that’s all. Happy memories, which - which now makes them sad memories, I guess.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes, I can understand that.”

She took another drink, almost choking on the whisky, and dashed away a couple of tears. He sipped at his own drink, dark eyes watching her closely, and she turned her glass between her fingertips.

“Do - do you have family?” she asked hesitantly.

“No,” he said abruptly, and set down his own glass before glancing away. “It sounds as though the rain has eased a little. We could try to make a break for it, if you like.”

Curiosity was needling her at his taciturn response, but the thought of a library to explore was an immediate distraction. She drained her glass, licking her lips and beaming at him, and Mr Gold pushed to his feet, gesturing towards the curtain with his free hand. Belle walked through to the shop, noting that the rain was still falling, but seemed lighter.

“Perhaps it was just a shower,” she ventured.

“Perhaps.” He reached behind the counter and retrieved a black umbrella. “I think we’ll take this, though. And the car.”

Mr Gold’s car was an old Cadillac, its black paint and chrome grill shining in the rain, and he held the umbrella over Belle until she was inside before going around to the driver’s side and furling the umbrella. The interior smelled of leather, and she tugged the belt around herself as he got into the seat next to her. She watched the light from the streetlamps shining on the soft sweeps of his hair, and catching the odd silvery fleck of stubble on his cheek. He glanced across at her, eyes dark in the low light, and it made her shiver pleasantly.

“This won’t take long,” he said.

The library wasn’t far from the shop, but Belle was glad to be out of the rain, which, while lighter than it had been, was still falling rapidly. Mr Gold parked up outside the library, and Belle unbuckled her belt. He was staring up at the sky and frowning.

“I thought the storm might be passing us by,” he mused. “But it looks as though another wave will be on us soon. Perhaps we should do this another time.”

“We can make it quick,” said Belle, eager to see the library, now he had agreed to let her reopen it. Mr Gold sucked his teeth.

“I suppose it could be giving us some respite,” he allowed, and got out of the car, walking around to open the door for her.

They had barely made it to the library steps before the rain grew heavier, spraying the umbrella he was holding over their heads and bouncing on the road, silvery droplets jumping upwards with the force of it. Mr Gold unlocked and opened the door, and she ducked inside hurriedly, shoes clicking on the wooden floor. The library had blinds at the windows, and Belle jumped as rain lashed against the glass.

“A very brief respite, it seems,” said Mr Gold, stepping up beside her.

Belle tugged the shawl tighter around herself, the storm outside making her shiver, and looked around. The library was in darkness, racks of shelving looming in the shadows, and she took a step forward, trying to see in the gloom. Mr Gold walked to the left, flicking some switches, and the lights burst into life, sending out a comforting luminescence to make the shadows shrink back. Belle glanced around, noting the numbers of stacks and the old-fashioned circulation desk in polished wood, coated in dust. The floor was dusty too, but she noticed footprints in it, a trail of crisscrossing marks that led from the door to a point in the centre, and no further. She walked to the circulation desk and looked it over, pulling out the drawers to find old library cards, dog-eared and faded. There were ink pads and date stamps, and out of curiosity she picked one up. October 23, 1998.

“Has this place really been closed for twenty years?” she asked, holding up the stamp, and Mr Gold shrugged.

“As I said, I imagine you’ll need to restock.”

“Yeah,” she said absently. If the books were decades old, they may not even be holding together.

He had taken a few steps forward, into the centre of the room where the footprints petered out, and was gazing at the wall opposite, a plain expanse of painted white. Belle put down the stamp, skirting the side of the circulation desk and heading for the stacks of books. She ran a finger along the spines, eyes flicking over the titles as she moved further into the stacks. The books were properly ordered, but dusty, and she pulled one from the shelf, a thick, board-backed book of fairytales. Opening it up was a treat, beautiful illustrations in amongst the pages of text, and it looked to be in good shape. She would definitely need to update the collection, though. Modern classics, non-fiction texts, more children’s books, an LGBTQ section…

Lightning flared outside, and thunder crashed, making her jump. The lights went out with a pop, and Belle squeaked, almost dropping the book.

“Are you alright?”

Mr Gold sounded concerned, his voice seeming to echo strangely now that they were in darkness, and she slid the book back onto its shelf, groping her way out of the stacks. She slammed into a warm body, squeaking in alarm as she fell, and landed on top of Mr Gold, driving his breath from his lungs with a low grunt. They were both breathing heavily, and the scent of his cologne was drifting into her nose, spicy and woody. Her heart was thumping hard, her head spinning a little. Perhaps it was the whisky. For a moment she was frozen in place, feeling the heat from him seep into her and the hard length of his cane between her legs, but then the lightning flashed again and she gasped in shock as his features were revealed, the angular planes of his face and the deep shadows of his eyes, watching her.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

She scrambled to get up, palms on the wooden floor beside him, pushing herself upright and holding out her hands for him to take. He held onto her with one hand, using the other to push himself up with his cane.

“Are you hurt?” she asked anxiously. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were there.”

“No matter,” he said, sounding almost amused. “Unintended things can happen when the lights go out.”

Belle let go of his hand as soon as he was upright, shuffling back from him on the wooden floor, mortified that she had knocked him over.

“Well, that’s more excitement than I’m used to of an early evening,” he said dryly. “There’s an apartment above the library for the caretaker, but perhaps we ought to look it over when the power’s back on. There are stairs. And furniture. All manner of things for you to fall over.”

“Yes,” said Belle hurriedly. “Yes, we’ll leave that for now, if you don’t mind. Not that I’m thinking of moving in here tomorrow, but—”

“It’s good to keep your options open,” he finished, and she nodded.

“Something like that.”

He was still standing in the middle of the floor, a slender figure with his hands folded over his cane, illuminated by the lightning flashes, purple and blue in the darkness.

“Would you like me to drive you home?”

“Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble,” she said, and he gave her that tiny grin again.

“Beyond dripping water all over my floor, drinking my whisky and knocking me flat on my back? I think I can handle your sort of trouble, Miss French.”

“Right,” she said, still blushing at the memory of lying on top of him. “Right. Well, okay. Thank you.”

He drove her home in near silence, and Belle sat with her hands folded in her lap, the woollen shawl still around her. She realised that she had left her coat at his shop, but she didn’t feel that she could ask him to turn around and get it. Besides, the thing was soaked through. She could pick it up the next day. Mr Gold changed down the gears as the Cadillac slowed and turned into the road where her father had rented their three-bed house. Heavy rain was making the wipers work hard, and the view through the windshield was a fragmented jumble of shapes and shadows and streaks of light from the streetlamps and houses that flanked the road. Mr Gold slowed to a stop outside her father’s house, and turned his head to face her.

“A moment,” he said.

He reached behind for the umbrella, unfurling it as he got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to open the door. Belle got out hurriedly, grateful for the shelter. The rain was soaking the shoulders of his suit, and she stepped a little closer so the umbrella covered both of them. He walked her up the path and onto the porch, the cane clicking on the wooden slats, and Belle sighed in relief to be in some relative shelter.

“Thank you,” she said, and made to lift the shawl from her shoulders. Mr Gold shook his head.

“Keep it,” he said. “You can return it tomorrow. Assuming the weather improves.”

“I left my coat in your shop,” she said, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Then we can make a fair exchange,” he said. “Until tomorrow, Miss French.”

“My name’s Belle,” she blurted.

He mouthed the name, so softly she could barely hear it, soft lips forming the word. Her heart was thumping again, her breath quickening. There was a strange tingling in the air, electricity between them. It felt almost like anticipation, as though this was the end of a date and she was expecting to be kissed. She licked her lips, and his dark eyes flicked briefly to her mouth before returning to meet her gaze.

“Until tomorrow,” he repeated.

He inclined his head before stepping off the porch back into the rain. Water cascaded over the umbrella, and Belle watched as he walked to the car and got in. He met her eyes as he opened the door, and she felt her breath catch before he ducked inside and out of sight.

Great. I have a crush on the landlord. Great. Absolutely fantastic.

[everlarkingjoshifer]

A Different Way CHPT2

Hey there my lovelies! I’m back with yet another chapter of what I hope is a riveting story. Again I would like to thank @mega-aulover and @burkygirl for giving me great ideas. Tomy husband for being hella patient and @titaniasfics and @javistg for betaing the crap that I handed only for it to come out coherent and worth posting. I would also like to thank @sunsetsrmydreams for making this sweet ass banner. I would like to dedicate this chapter to @norbertsmom for her birthday. May you have a wonderful day babes I wish you many more! As this was originally a story written for @peetaisbae I hope she likes her ongoing X-mas present. As always, don’t forget to read and review ;)

Now onto chapter 2!

Katniss blinked a few times before recognizing the blond, blue-eyed baker before her. “Peeta?” she asked dumbly when her old schoolmate walked around the counter to give her an awkward hug that she’d mistaken for a handshake, and so now they were standing there with Peeta looking down at her extended hand and his arms midway through wrapping around her.

They both blushed as he pulled his hand out and she changed her position to that of wanting to hug him. Stuttering in mid-move, they scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all and blushed furiously when they decided that maybe a high five was as much as the awkwardness would allow.

Peeta ran his hand behind his neck giving her a lopsided grin followed by a shrug. “How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I’m good, thanks. Just here picking up some groceries, you know?” Katniss replied, hoping on all of God’s green earth that she looked as cool as she wanted to, although she highly doubted it.

After a few minutes of awkward silence and Peeta fiddling with his wedding band, he looked up at her chuckling. “So, what have you been up to? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been doing much. You know, working and, you know, life. How about you? I haven’t seen you since I moved out of my house,” Katniss said, hoping he would have a more interesting answer than her own.

“I got married,” he said raising his hand to show her a silver wedding band.

Katniss nodded. “I see. Well, congratulations, any kids yet?”

“One, a son. He’s in school now while I work part-time here,” he answered looking at the floor.

Katniss hated small talk, but what else could she ask or say? It had been so long since she’d seen him and even then they were only next door neighbors. He had several classes with her from time to time, but nothing deep was ever established between them. It made for a very short conversation. After some time she remembered his parents owned a bakery. “What about your parents?”

“Oh, they’re doing fine. They retired not too long ago and my older brothers run the old bakery now. I help sometimes, but now I work here,” Peeta said pointing to the small bakery he’d been in.

Katniss frowned. “Won’t your brothers need more help?”

“Well, the bakery is doing so good nowadays that they have their own employees and, well, I only just got back from the Navy. I was the chef-slash-cook.” Peeta muttered rubbing the back of his neck. Katniss noticed that it was a nervous tick of his.

“The Navy, wow, did your wife travel with you?” Katniss asked.

Peeta nodded without answering looking down at his hand and twirling his ring around again. He lifted his gaze back to her. “I needed to establish my own line of work and gain more experience other than my parents’ bakery.”

“Oh,” Katniss muttered nodding.

Peeta dug his hands into his pockets. “Gotta start somewhere if I plan to open my own cafe.”

“Wouldn’t working in a restaurant make more sense?” Katniss asked mystified.

“Well, despite having been in the Navy, I couldn’t find work so easily. Maybe having relied on my parents’ bakery wasn’t such a good idea,” he answered shrugging.

Katniss was sure she would have spoken to him for longer if a customer hadn’t come in to ask for an order. Peeta looked at the disgruntled suit and nodded quickly before turning back to her, “I’ll be done quickly, can you wait for me? Maybe we can have lunch during my break and catch up.”

Katniss shook her head. “Can’t. I have a deadline to hit and if I don’t my boss will have my head.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll see you around. It was good to see you,” Peeta answered quickly, looking nervously at the waiting customer. She noticed his shoulders drooped a bit.

Katniss grinned and waved awkwardly as she walked with cart in hands towards the cashier line. “Sure, I’ll see you around.”

Once she had put her groceries in the house, she walked about her kitchen and rummaged in the fridge before deciding that she’d have to forego the fresh slices of bread that Peeta had been selling and settle on Rice Krispies and milk. To be honest, she was caught so off guard upon seeing her old neighbor that she’d all but forgotten her precious bread. The fact that she somehow still remembered his name when all her other schoolmate's names’ were but a distant memory as it wasn’t her strongest suit. But she’d remembered him. She hadn’t even spoken much to him back when they were neighbors or in between classes for that matter. Now here she was sitting in front of her computer with a bowl of cereal in hand as she stared at her rough draft riddled with red marks. Who knew writing a piece on a little girl’s long-awaited trip to Disney Land provided by Make-a-wish could be so hard? Yet here she was, with half her work scratched off staring back at her as she crunched on the snappy cereal. It was like eating soggy pop rocks.

Suddenly, her Skype went off and the pic of Johanna’s middle finger flashed on the screen. Katniss clicked on the answer icon and saw her best friend on the verge of a Hulk status rant.

“Katniss, give me a reason not to kill Coin!” Johanna gritted out.

Katniss sighed. “Because it’s against the law of Panem State and if you do we’ll both go to jail because you know I’ll help you bury the body and I really can’t leave Willow with my mother.”

Johanna took several gulps to calm herself. None of it worked until she grunted like a bear and took several deep breaths before looking back at her. “Right, but can I fantasize about her death?”

“Fantasize all you want. No one can put you in jail for your thoughts,” Katniss replied swallowing her cereal.  

Johanna gave her a smirk. “I should be in jail for my thoughts.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. Yes, Johanna was that friend that turned everything into a dirty conversation. “What did she do this time?”

“She asked me to rewrite the whole fucking article,” Johanna groaned massaging her temples. “I mean, what more is there to say on a fucking weather report that hasn’t already been said?”

Katniss pursed her lips thoughtfully, “Well there’s words and you can quote me. Words like, Clouds, lots of clouds, cumulonimbus, vapor, um let’s see… did I say clouds already?”

Johanna did not look amused. “Katniss, shut the fuck up.”

“No, and for your information, I have to fix my own article for the umpteenth time so, you’re not alone,” Katniss reminded her friend.

Johanna, ever the drama queen, gasped and backed away as though offended. “Oh, she only asked you to fix it? Wow, she must really like you.”

At that Katniss flipped her off.

Johanna groaned once more and sighed, “Kat, please tell me something interesting to get my mind off of wanting to quit this stupid paper.”

“You can’t quit, you’ve got bills, and I forbid you to leave me alone with her,” Katniss warned.

“Whyyyy?!!!” Johanna whined.

“Because if you’re suffering, so am I, and I will hunt you down if you leave me with her,” Katniss explained.

Sucking her teeth, Johanna rolled her eyes. “Fiiiine, but know that I only do this because I mildly like you.”

Katniss didn’t take the words to heart because, as much as Johanna only said she liked her, she was the first one to stand up for her and the sort of person who put all her effort besides Prim when it came to Willow. So yeah, she was only mildly liked, but Willow was loved, and that was more than enough for her.

Katniss took in a deep breath. “Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?” Johanna asked looking rather distracted but enthralled.

“Peeta Mellark,” Katniss replied playing with her milk and bits of cereal floating on the surface.

Johanna frowned even deeper. “Who the hell is that?”

Katniss took in another deep breath in order to continue. “He used to go to my high school, and he was my next door neighbor.”

Johanna’s eyes widened as she sat up straighter, her attention now riveted on the new information. “Oh, is he hot?”

“He’s handsome,” Katniss replied slurping a bit of the sodden cereal and milk on her spoon.

Johanna rolled her eyes again. “Bitch, I’m not asking you if he’s handsome, my fucking landlord is handsome, I asked if he was hot, as in fuckable.”

“I don’t really know, I haven’t noticed,” Katniss replied matter of factly.

Johanna smirked. “Uh huh, yeah right. Fucking liar.”

“Well, it doesn’t even matter if he’s hot or not, the point is he’s married,” Katniss replied quickly.

“Then, why the fuck did you mention him if he was married?” Johanna asked looking like the cat that got the cream.

Katniss put her half eaten bowl of cereal on her coffee table before running her hand across her face. “ Oh my god, you asked me to distract you.”

“Yeah, but the main focus is single guys that can get lame ass Gale out of your head,” Johanna reminded her.

“That’s not nice,” Katniss replied, trying to hide her smile but failing miserably. “He’s the father of my child.”

“Still doesn’t make him any less lame and ridiculous. He just randomly decided that you, a good wife and mother, not to mention super gorgeous and way out of his league, was no longer the object of his affection and instead decided to switch you for a straight up whore who will most likely cheat on him. God, I hope she cheats on him. Karma cannot let this pass,” Johanna whispered the last part with gusto.

Katniss swallowed her pain. “Can we please not talk about him today?”

Johanna, noticing she’d gone too far, raised her hands in surrender. “Sorry, so anyway what’s with you mentioning that Peter dude?”

“Pee-tah. Like Pita Bread or PETA that animal rights group,” Katniss enunciated his name, wondering why she had to make sure her friend said it correctly.

“Okay, Peeta. Whatever, what’s he to you?” Johanna asked.

Katniss retrieved the bowl of leftover cereal and drank the milk with bits of soggy Rice Krispies floating about sparsely. “I don’t want to talk about him either. Now, how about we go back to doing our work? You and I both take forever to get shit done and we have to hand this in first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh no, Katniss, you’re not gonna leave me with this curiosity,” Johanna warned.

Katniss took another long gulp of her milk, and set the empty bowl back on the coffee table. “Tough, We got shit to do.”

“Just know that you’re on seriously thin ice and you’re breaking the girl code,” Johanna hinted.

Katniss rolled her eyes. “There is no girl code.”

“Yes, there is. Ask Prim,” Johanna half yelled. The poor woman looked like she was on the verge of teetering from the need to know every detail.

“Well, I’m not saying another word on the subject, and we need to get back to work,” Katniss reminded her.

“I hate you,” Johanna spit out while pouting like a toddler.

Katniss shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

“Kat, please, you can’t leave me like this! Just tell me one litt--,” Johanna yelled as Katniss moved her arrow to end the call.

“BYE!” Katniss interrupted pressing on the red icon. She looked around her living room and puffed out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in.

[diary-sc]

Janaury 25

04:42

A Little Motherly Context

I know this is extreme and I’ve already made two posts tonight but I want to dedicate a post to my mother specifically for a lot of reasons.

As I said before, my mother became poor and I was to live in a poor lifestyle along with her and my four other siblings. Within the apartments, there was cockroach problems, crumbs covering the carpets, and overall chaos. We had switched apartment rooms within the complexes of the one landlord we had. My mother gave up her bed so my sister and I could sleep on it instead while she slept on the three kid’s beds pushed together on the end. The bed we slept in had no cover, was covered in lipstick stains along with other questionable looking spots, and we practically soaked in food crumbs. Classy.

My siblings were always a hassle. The oldest half-sibling would throw large fits and throw all the toys down the stairs while screaming at the top of her lungs, the twin boy was a total crybaby, the twin girl was a complete sweet heart (I have hope for you, please don’t let me down), and my oldest sister also happened to be a giant crybaby about e v e r y t h i n g. There was never any peace in this household as there was always crying, screaming, or loud yelling.

My mother has a new abusive boyfriend every month. It is becoming impressive how persistent it is, but my sister did not take these instances light hearted and would have a breakdown just about every single week. I do not blame her though. When I was younger I would ball my eyes out every single time I was brought there by my dad. Eventually your emotions become null to this pain and it’s no longer a problem.

I find my mother quite hilarious, you know. The father of my three younger siblings had hit me rather hard on the back before as a method to get me to move out of the way (while he honestly could of just moved around). My mother had a freak out and called the cops (note to others: the cops won’t help you). There was a large red handprint on my back and nothing was done about it. She left his home for a while only to go back. This isn’t a new concept of course. She had always said “I’m going to focus on my children now. I care for you blah, blah” only to get a new boyfriend within the next two weeks of saying that every time. Eventually she gave up on that speech so at least she isn’t lying as much anymore.

It got worse with age. It came to the point where one of the boyfriends pinned a small child (I believe she was about 7 or 8 years old at the time) to the wall out of anger. My mother did not bat an eye while her young children were wailing and crying at the boyfriend to not hurt their sister. She has abandoned us while pretending like she cares time to time. I was used to this but my sister had a breakdown. My mother is broken and I have abandoned her as well. If you dare even shed a tear of my death, my dear mother, you should know where a lot of the fault lies.

It was not terribly long ago that I had given myself a stress fracture in my left foot. My father was in the room with me and the doctor had said that my blood pressure was a little high. My father took the opportunity to smoothly call me fat, lacking in diet, as well as exercise. This wasn’t the first time but it certainly does hurt. Eventually I was crying in my room (which is not a normal occurrence so it was a little unfortunate) when my mother had called me. She could tell that I was crying over the phone earlier and she acted like she was pretty upset with my dad for the comments that he had made. She gave me an entire pep talk and how my dad is a complete idiot for even making the comments.

You know what I did? I cried out of joy because in that moment I was honestly convinced that my mother loved me. What a fucking idiot. A 15 minute phone call cannot make up a lifetime of misery. You honestly think she LOVES you? She has chosen her abusive boyfriends over her children. She doesn’t actually care about you at all. It was a cute thought though. I wish I was one of those insecure people who just have bad thoughts about the situation because they’re insecure, but this is the reality of my existence.

I know it has come to her attention that I am trying to leave her behind and for that I can see why she tried to be a mother during my rare crying session. She has repeatedly tried bribing me with items and being nice to me whenever I am forced by my sister to go see her. I hope she doesn’t expect it to actually work because I don’t hold much value in tangible things anymore.

My mother’s nickname for me was either Bear or Half-ass. The last birthday I had spent there I was yelled at and forced to clean her house that I didn’t even live in. She gets money from the government for my EXISTENCE, yet I don’t see a single dime of it because that’s how it is. Recently she was able to get disability though. I like to think it is understandable as to why I don’t love my mother.

Just because your parents have birthed you, that doesn’t mean you’re required to love them. If your parents are complete dog shit, you don’t have to love them and nor do you have to see them. You aren’t required to talk to them or spend time with them. Why would you? Because they’re your parent? Wake up. Don’t stay around absuive people no matter what their title is concerning you. You know what happens when married couples don’t like each other anymore? They get divorced. Sure, you share the same DNA as these people but you honestly think that means something in a relationship? It’s not a strong bond unless you make it one. Leave while you can and if you can.

My mother and father did not love me so I definitely don’t feel any sort of obligation to love them back in the slightest. My parents are the reason why I am this fucked up so I seriously wish they were both dead right about now. Both of them are oblivious to their child. I was ignored my entire life. My dad was more intersted in his work and my mother only wanted boyfriends. My father had sometimes come home late after his hockey games to read me fables. I was raised on fables. He likes to pride himself in the idea that he did such a good job raising me. Sir, I want to kill you and people in general as well as myself. You have absolutely no idea how badly you fucked up.

[frcddies]

Hey, y’all! It’s Admin Xanthe being late for the intro party as usual. I was supposed to post this few hours earlier but my browser decided to crash while I was writing this and I lost everything that I typed (rip) so I had to retype it again so here it is! I’m really excited that we’ve finally opened for interactions and I can’t wait to get to know you and your muses! But anyways, enough of my blabbering, I’m going to introduce Frederick Souza to you. My trash, misunderstood but lovable child who deserves all the love lol. Under the cut are some stuff about him that you need to know (so far):

HIS STORY

His parents were both musicians in the 60s to 70s and both had that whole ‘hippie’ vibe going on. Freddie’s dad was part of a successful band, think Lynyrd Skynyrd as his dad’s band’s music was comparable to theirs, but eventually left when he met Freddie’s mom in 1963. The following year, Freddie was born. 

Freddie’s parents ended up creating this duo band called “Flora” and traveled across the United States with their Volkswagen van, using Freddie’s dad’s name in the music industry as a way for ‘Flora’ to get more gigs in small bars then bigger venues and bringing along their 1 year old son with them the whole time. They never settled in one place, pretty much lived in the van for the most part, and for about 10 years, this was the life that Freddie have known and grew up in (and boy, did young Freddie loved it).

However, it wasn’t all perfect because during those ten years, Freddie’s parents also ended up experimenting with then being addicted to drugs. As a child, Freddie was exposed to things that he shouldn’t be exposed to in the first place and it definitely affected him growing up especially when his parents’ relationship started to decline and they would fight over little things, not even caring that Freddie was there to witness them fight and hurt each other: physically and emotionally.

When he was 12, Freddie’s father left them for another woman and it was all too easy for his dad to do it because his parents were not married and this left Freddie’s mom in shambles. His mother and him were forced to settle and relocate in a town in Arizona, struggling to meet ends because the money that his parents earned over the years were either lost in buying drugs or his father took it with him when he left them.

As a teenager, Freddie was forced to grow up and be the responsible ‘adult’ as his mother couldn’t be bothered to take care of him. Despite the neglect, however, Freddie still cared for his mother and never left her because he felt it was the right thing to do. He balanced high school life with working two jobs in order to pay bills and pay rent while they lived in the small room given to them out of pity by the landlord and eventually graduated at 18.

He was beginning to get hold of his life when it took yet another turn and on the night before his 21st birthday, his mother od’d on heroin. This took a toll on Freddie and he was engulfed by bitterness, anger and sadness that he leaned heavily on alcohol for the next months and was often detained due to his involvement in bar brawls (he became violent, as a result of his mother’s death)

It was only after a year since his mother died that he started regaining grasp on his life once more, forcing himself to pick up the pieces and dedicated much of his life on his love for music. He began forming small bands with people from Arizona before eventually leaving the state to move to California and earning a few bucks from the small gigs his band would get. 

However, after his band broke up in 1986, Freddie was all too quick to move on and left California, heading north to Washington and found himself in Seattle where he first felt the sense of belonging he didn’t know he needed until that point. From then on, he never left the city and only continued to make music with his new band as the Grunge movement became more widespread and successful around the world.

PERSONALITY

Freddie is usually a laid-back guy; would always prefer befriending his neighbors than making them enemies but when you do him or someone he cares for wrong then, there’s a problem. 

He tend to be protective of the few people he cares about and would always do anything for them and would be there for them when and if they needed him. 

However, he also tend to be unabashed and is 10x worse when he’s drunk (like, dude would say the first thing that comes to his head without filter and if you’re friends with him, you’ll probably contemplate disowning him because he’s just...shameless like that lmao) and though he’s not as aggressive as he was when his mother died, he still has his tendencies to be violent when gets those days. 

Freddie’s also witty, smart and is very self-reliant and also has the tendency to be flirty. If he finds you attractive, there’s 101% chance he’ll hit on you so watch out lol

SOME FACTS

The only reason why his parents named him ‘Frederick’ was because they wanted his nickname to be ‘Freddie’ after Freddie Mercury since his parents were big fans of Queen.

He has a total of 15 tattoos: most with meaning, others he got just because he just liked them and some he’d gotten after a couple of stupid drunken nights (you can imagine, those tattoos are among the few he’s dying to have removed)

He plays the guitar and writes music for his band, “The Barrymores” whose members are River Hendricks and Lennon Cohen

Freddie never reunited with his dad and hates the dude with passion.

Smokes weed and gets creative when he’s high. Like, a lot of his music were written when he was high lol

I apologize for this being so long but if you managed to read the whole thing, I congratulate you! Now, I’d love all the plots so if you want to plot, don’t hesitate to IM me so we can figure something out! :) <3

[izzystrousers-blog]

To what extent did Spartan women benefit from being more "liberated' than their Athenian counterparts in Classical Greece?

The Oxford definition of "liberated" is someone who is "free from social conventions, especially those concerned with accepted sexual roles" (Oxford University Press, 2016). While Spartan women are so often regarded as liberated due to their freedom to own land and their access to education, something which was unheard of in Classical Athens, it must however be considered that their fundamental role remained the same as their Athenian counterparts - to bear children for the perpetuation and cohesion of the city state (Dougherty, 1991) (Breu, 2005). This essay thus intends to explore the areas of Greek society wherein Spartan women are so often considered "liberated" and to infer whether or not they actually benefited compared to their Athenian counterparts in various sections of society.

Education, marriage, sexual relations, religion, literature and the city state itself are all areas of the respective societies in which the two cohorts of Women are able to be both compared and contrasted. The general public consensus regarding Spartan Women leads one to believe that they were inherently more liberated in all mentioned areas of society; generalised statements regard the issue of gender in the Classical period as distinctly black and white - Spartan Women were liberated, Athenian women were not, despite the fact that neither groups of Women were fully liberated in the modern definition of the word. One online source claims that 'Spartan women had equal rights (to men)" (Hello World Civ, 2016); a statement that has questionable walidity given that it is a fairly basic blog post, directed at those who know little about the classical world and look to generalise in a more accessible and colloquial manner in order to increase their audience which probably targets a younger audience - an irrelevant source for this essay. Rather, scholars have come to consider the drawbacks of being a Spartan woman; Professor Mary Beard of Cambridge University argues that "what we think we know about Sparta suggests that it is a different form of oppression, not liberation" (Beard, 2016).

Indeed "what we think we know" is an integral part of Professor Beard's statement - A.W. Gomme, a professor of ancient Greek at the university of Glasgow and fellow of the British academy, argues that "there is, in fact, no literature, no art of any country, in which women are more prominent, more carefully studied and with more interest, than in tragedy, sculpture, and painting" in Ancient Greece (Hadas, 1936). Despite this, the architects of said tragedy, sculpture, painting and literature were almost always men; modern day scholars are in this way forced to perceive the Greek women they study through the tainted vision of their male counterparts, or to attempt to identify with women from two thousand years ago - an arduous task at best.

Regarding Sparta in particular, the Historian's issue becomes even more prominent given that their civilisation left almost no art behind - rather, one is left with an outsider's perspective of Sparta, which was generally regarded as alien by the rest of Greece. (Hughes, 2015). It is perhaps due to this very element of mystery that women in Ancient Greece are so heavily studied as scholars search for new ways in which they may be able to decipher how the women themselves felt in their respective civilisations. Recently for example, curse tablets have surfaced as an effective way to reveal the advice that women would seek from the gods, allowing the historian to explore the thoughts that women had about themselves and they way in which they were perceived by men (Scott, 2009). The judgments of Classicists based off of archeological evidence such as this are certainly more valuable to this essay title - they have no purpose of simplifying the ancient world but instead look to delve into the complex issue of gender and the constraints regarding gender that both societies of women were faced with and are therefore hugely reliable and apt for study.

As modern advances allow research to improve, the issue of Spartan "liberation' and their benefits as Women becomes all the more interesting and increasingly debatable; this essay will explore, in particular, the Spartan Women - the "unknown "and the "alien' civilisation - in Comparison to Athenian women and will look to conclude whether or not the prior actually benefited from their "liberation' in their alternative city state, or if what is so often regarded as liberation was actually just another form of oppression.

The City state

It is most frequently argued that Spartan women benefited due to their liberties within the city state that allowed them to be outspoken and active political personnel. This can be contrasted with the situation in Athens, which can best be summarised simply by a method of language - the term polites translates to "citizen' and can only refer to males whereas the rarely used feminine version of the noun, politis, refers to women only in relation to a male citizen (Cole, 1994). This denotes the rather non-existent role Athenian women played within the state - while they were not even allowed to be named in public, Spartan women were the only Greek women "whose statements were worthy of quotation" (Cole, 1994) (Pomeroy, 2002. pp.47). Plutarch's Sayings of Spartan Women (in which exemplary Spartan mothers' statements are documented) is a contemporary, and therefore extremely valuable, piece of evidence regarding this liberty: One Spartan Woman, Damatria, hearing her son was a Coward, was reported to have killed him, "She a Spartan lady, he a Spartan youth" (Sayings of Spartan Women, 241.1).

The fact that Spartan women were deemed Worthy of quotation by their male counterparts certainly exposes a liberty unheard of in Athenian culture; the Women were in this way at least given something of a political voice which would have then benefited their quality of life within the city state. However, it could be argued that the Sayings of Spartan Women didn't truly give the women a voice the sayings were rather limited to that of elite women, acting more as a moral guidance for the male soldiers of the city than a celebration of Women (Cole, 1994). Various other examples from the Sayings go to show this:

A Spartan Woman Who killed her son who had deserted his post declared: "He Was not my offspring... for I did not bear one unworthy of Sparta" (Sayings of Spartan Women, 241.1).

Another, whose son had fallen at his post said: "Let the cowards be mourned. I, however, bury you without a tear, my son and Sparta's" (sayings of Spartan Women, 241.2).

The sayings underline an obvious trend - exemplary mothers who refuse to tolerate their sons' cowardice in war. Anne Haward argues that Sparta was a "constitution suited to a state constantly at war" (Haward, 1996. pp. 14). This judgement is given weight due to her work having been backed by a wealth of archaeological evidence analysed in her published book: From Penelope to Poppaea, which is highly esteemed among scholars and universities. Haward is a qualified classicist and specialises in the field of gender studies in the ancient world. Thus, it can be inferred that, because Sparta revolved around the constant prospect of War, the Sayings of Spartan Women were less a means of liberating women by giving them an important voice, but were more a method of training their young men to be brave so that they would not be publicly humiliated by their own mothers.

Despite this, it could be argued that Spartan Women benefited from the liberation in the state which gave them the ability to own land and acquire their own wealth, a rather convincing argument suggested by the Classicist Breu, who concluded that, by the 4" Century BCE, Women owned two thirds of Spartan land in an article of his posted online. (Breu, 2005). This line of argument is similarly supported by Sarah Pomeroy, a distinguished professor at inter College and author of several books focusing on gender politics in the ancient world, claiming that Spartan women were among the most liberated in the ancient World due to their ability to own property and acquire wealth. In this way the role of women evolved into something that didn't just rely on being retained to the home; Spartan women could become landlords and, given that agriculture dominated the economy, they had the ability to acquire a personal wealth equal, or more than, that of their male counterparts (Pomeroy, 2002). This judgement can be solidified by recent archaeological excavations, exposing a Wealth of the gold and silver jewellery belonging to women, dedicated to the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia. (Pomeroy, 2002).

This strong economic role that women possessed in Sparta once again acts in considerable contrast to that of their Athenian counterparts - who feared most that they might be divorced by their husbands, upon whom all their financial safety rested. Indeed, this appears to be a section of society in which Spartan women almost inarguably did benefit from the liberty of being allowed to control their own land. However, it must be considered how accessible this was to all Spartan women - Pomeroy also states that these privileges were confined to the elite Women of society, once more suggesting that the majority of Spartan Women may have faced the same sort of realities as their Athenian Counterparts and these "liberties' were confined to the upper classes. Pomeroy, best known for being a professor specialising in women's history in classical antiquity with both a Masters and a PHD in Classics, has also written seven academic books and won three academic awards, one of them being the City University President's Award for Excellence in Scholarship in 1995, her historical argument is in this way both reliable, convincing and relevant to this question. (Pomeroy, 2002).

Pomeroy also suggests that "Because of their influence and authority in society as a whole, to study Spartan women is not only to learn women's history, but also to have a more complete knowledge of Spartan history" (Pomeroy, 2002, pp.91). This argument is incredibly valid given that the judgement is based on a wealth of Contemporary literature and artefacts, analysed in her scholarly book Written for Universities and lecturers. It is indeed evident that Spartan Women held influence within their society - they were important for the perpetuation of the state and developed their own moral Code of what it was to be Spartan. However, to claim this is liberation from which they benefitted would be incorrect. The City State Was still wery much a man's World, where in Spartan Women could not take part or Voice their own opinions and so they could not fully benefit as females in the state-fundamentally, they had no say (O'Pry, 2012) Kay Opry, a distinguished classicist and lecturer based in the US, thus challenges Pomeroy's argument, acknowledging that the higher classes of Spartan women perhaps possessed more freedom in their city state, but it fundamentally remained as a man's World seeing as they played no active role, just as was the situation in Athens. A convincing argument due to the authors' analysis of a variety of contemporary sources such as Aristotle's Spartan Women. Moreover, their access to land without the 'safekeeping" of men certainly acts in contrast to the Athenian laws, but to use this as an argument to claim that all Spartan women benefited from this liberation Would be incorrect- this was an area of society in which only royal or elite Women may benefit, who are just a small section of the society as a whole. Thus, the city state in Sparta certainly presents differences to their Athenian counterparts but no outstanding, beneficial sense of "liberation'.

Education and upbringing

The fact that Spartan women received any sort of education at allis indeed extraordinary in the context of the Ancient world. In fact, Aristotle believed that it was for this very reason that Sparta went to ruin, which is a useful, albeit shocking, insight into the male attitude towards women in Ancient Greece (O'Pry, 2012). "Sparta was the only polis where the training and education of girls was prescribed and supported by political authority" (Pomeroy, 2002. pp. 75). Spartan girls were trained in mousique (singing, dancing and playing musical instruments) in contrast to Athenian women, whose greatest source of education was found in the art of weaving - scholars have thus come to conclude that women in Sparta did benefit due to the accessibility of an education, something that always has and always will be beneficial to the individual.

Spartan Women would have benefited from this liberty as it resulted in a healthier community - it's hard to separate education from sport in ancient Sparta and so it is no coincidence that the first woman to compete (and win) in the Olympics was Cynisca, a Spartan Woman (The Greek and Roman Civilisations, 2015). These women were in this way physically advanced due to the education which Athenian women had little access to - Aristotle claims that the Athenian equivalent was the exercise they got from Walking around the house, completing their chores (Pomeroy, 2002).

This unheard of education that the Spartan women received is what drew in critics of their state in Classical Athens; Plato (and Aristotle (Stevenson, 2009) for example, claim that, despite their physical education, Spartan women still possessed the same inferiority as other Greek women in defending their own country - suggesting they did not benefit from this liberty. However, Plutarch in his Moralias (Pomeroy, 2002) argues otherwise, claiming that Spartan women would have been able to defend themselves if they had to, suggesting that the main goal of the Spartan education for girls was to make them able to defend themselves and their children when their male counterparts were away at War. Biased as they are, these contemporary resources from ancient politicians and philosophers are invaluable to the study of gender roles in the ancient world - to discern how the male counterparts perceived both Athenian and Spartan Women is vital in assessing whether or not they intended the treatment to be "liberating" or simply beneficial to the male population.

Through Plutarch's assessment, for example, the real reason for Spartan education can be discerned and that was to protect the state in times of danger rather than to liberate Women and give them equal opportunities to men. Despite the ulterior motives of the men who prescribed Spartan Women with their education, it is undeniable that they would have benefited from a healthier and more fulfilling lifestyle accessed through the training of mousique. Though to claim that the male intention was to "liberate' Women and to ensure they benefitted would be incorrect as they still lived in a society dominated by the prospect of war and Women seemed only to be included as an "afterthought, or in the context of the actions and events of men" (O'Pry, 2012).

Sexual Relations

Sexual relations and marriage rituals are perhaps the most valuable means through which a historian might assess how much ancient Greek Women benefitted in their respective societies. Through the analysis of sexual relations, the way in which both factions of Women were regarded by their male counterparts seems to become clearest - in both societies they were inarguably identified by their wombs: objects of mass production for the cohesion of each city state.

The sports that Spartan girls partook in, briefly discussed above, have an inexplicable (and perhaps surprising) link to sexual relations within the state. The Spartan girls trained nude and were subject to public scrutiny from an extremely young age; some historians argue that the nude training encouraged homosexual relationships amongst the girls (Breu, 2005). This same emphasis on sexual appearance and appeal surfaces in the excavations of ancient Laconian mirrors which display a convex disk that allow the face, neck and cleavage to be observed. This society, where babies were taken by their maids daily to the shrine of Helen at Therapne so as to pray that they would not grow up ugly, acts in stark contrast to the Athenian society wherein women were to remain veiled at all times (Pomeroy, 2002). As opposed to Athens, "abundant fertility" (Pomeroy, 2002, pp.72) was very much encouraged, and it has been argued that both men and women partook in homosexual relationships to ensure of this (Hughes, 2015). 

At face walue, the difference between the two societies may appear similar to a modern feminist debate over sexual liberation and the female ownership over her own body. In fact, Helena Schrader, a non-fiction author and History graduate from Hamburg university, concluded that Spartan women were evidently more sexually liberated and they inarguably benefited from this - perhaps because Sparta is what seems most progressive' or most similar to a modern day society; various sources seem to enforce non-contextual judgements onto information in such a way. Schrader dubbed Spartan women as "scandalous" (Sparta Reconsidered, 1993) because of their promiscuous sexual behaviour, though this ideology is heavily disagreed upon by various other Classicists such as Anne Haward, a lecturer in Classics and former Head of Classics at New Hall School, who instead perceives the sexual relations in Sparta as no less oppressive than those in Athens, recent scholarly research has questioned just how sexually liberated one can truly consider Spartan Women, and this is most evident in the different marriage rituals, a much more convincing and reliable scholarly argument.

Contemporary accounts of the Athenian marriage rituals denote a total focus on procreation; Soranus' Gynaecology highlights that "Women are married for the sake of children and succession, and not for mere enjoyment" (MacLachlan, 2012, pp43). The ritual was an act of female submission to the man, who had the task of "curbing' his wife's "crazed' sexual promiscuity as a woman and instead ensuring that she would bear legitimate, preferably male, children (Breu, 2005). In Xenophon's Oeconomicus, he outlines the way in which to "train' a new bride which is extremely valuable in assessing what men wanted out of their Women: he claims that the proper age was 15 or less so as to ensure she was a person who knew and saw as little as possible - the main objectives of the man were to ensure she would bear children and, otherwise, she must remain discreet and not speak. (Strauss, 2004). 

However oppressive these values in Athenian marriage were, the Spartan marriage rituals illustrate a violent alternative that would have harmed Spartan women even more than the conservative rituals and expectations in Athens. The marriage ritual itself in Sparta mimicked, and sometimes genuinely was, a capture and rape - the girl would be carried off in men's clothing with her hair cut short and she was left to await her husband in a dark room where he would appear to force violent sex upon her, she would then be left in the room and was unable to appear publicly until she fell pregnant (Haward, 1996).

Though both marriage rituals were horrifically oppressive in their respective terms, the Spartan ritual in itself illustrates a violent male culture that objectified Women and utilised them to their own disposal to an even greater extent than in Athens. One source argues that "It is highly significant that Spartans condemned violence inside marriage, and understood that sex with a child is abusive." (Sparta Reconsidered, 1993). This conclusion was reached by the fact that most Spartan girls were married off when they were eighteen compared to the Athenian Women who were coveted in marriage around the age of 14-however this argument loses almost all validity due to the fact that the Spartan women were subject to multiple cases of rape and violence even if they were older. Instead. Sparta was a violent city state that revolved around a mentality of war and rape and that is highly noticeable in their marriage customs which were much more oppressive than those regarded in the Athenian customs.

Thus, increasingly, Classicists have come to conclude that the Spartan state was not beneficial and liberate towards women in terms of sexual relations and marriage, but was merely another form of oppression - seemingly much more violent than the quiet, conservative oppression of women evident in Athens (Beard, 2016). Mary Beard's view on the topic has been a particularly reliable source for my research; as professor of Classics at Cambridge University and perhaps the most notable Classicist of the 21" century and the author of best sellers such as SPQR and producer of Meet the Romans, her insight provides a relevant and contextual view on the situation. My personal correspondence with Professor Beard allowed for the opportunity to discuss in-depth how Spartan women were particularly oppressed in terms of sexual relations, thus providing both highly relevant, reliable and current information and judgment. On the contrary, Spartans were raised knowing that they would only be worth something if they were beautiful to the men who would later subject them to violence and rape for means of proCreation.

Religion

State religion was perhaps the area of both societies wherein women held their greatest influence and liberty. In Athens, Women would attend and officiate over one hundred festivals. Some, like the festival of Demeter, were exclusive only to women and females of all ages had the opportunity to participate directly in the rituals of the festivals - for example, the first three days of the thesnophoria festival saw Women performing rites to ensure that the autumn crops Would be successful (Haward, 1996) (Cole, 1994). This demonstrates a sense of authority that the Athenian women would have received from their active role in religion; an important sense of duty that they lacked elsewhere aside from the pressure to have children.

Similarly, Spartan Women would participate alongside men in the hyacinthia festival, wherein their training in the art of mousique would be displayed as they would sing, dance, Weave and even race on chariots alongside men (Pomeroy, 2002). Once again, this active role that Spartan women possessed in religion highlights almost all other areas of society wherein the direct participation of women was lacking - most notably, the political section of the city state.

As "liberating' as state religion may appear however, the reason for such active female participation in rituals and burial must be analysed before one may even argue whether Spartan or Athenian women benefited from religious activities more. In both societies, it was believed that Women should play a more active role in religion due to their links with child-bearing and fertility (Haward, 1996). Thus, what may originally be interpreted as a liberating sector of society that allows Women to forget about their fundamental role within the state, becomes clear as a reaffirmation of the firmly bound gender roles in both societies. This is a point that brings one all the way back to the introduction - Spartan and Athenian societies were immensely different, but the fundamental role of women remained the same and that can most effectively be regarded through their increasingly "liberated' role in religion.

One may argue that the two divinities of Athens were women, which surely suggests an empowering position, however scholars have come to conclude that it is no coincidence that the most important divinity, Athene, was completely defeminized - the goddess of wisdom and War, a masculine endeavour represented by her chastity (O'Neal, 1993). Through the chief divinities of Athens, men reaffirmed the strict roles for women and their value as wombs only as well as the sentiment that their sexuality must be curbed.

In similar fashion, the Spartan cults reaffirmed the society's harsh emphasis on female beauty and fertility - evident in the fact that the local divinities were Eileithyia (the goddess of childbirth) and Helen, who was renowned for her beauty (Pomeroy, 2002). One religious tale reflects the violent nature of sexual relations in Sparta - Castor and Pollux, two Spartan heroes, captured and married Hilaeria and Phoebe, two Women fleeing from them, their rape and marriage thence became a "mythical archetype" for the Spartan Wedding ritual (Pomeroy, 2002). Thus, Spartan religion reflects the oppressive and violent nature of the society towards Women as a whole and only reaffirms the argument that what Spartan Women faced was not any sort of new wave liberation, but a very different form of oppression.

Therefore, it is undeniable that an active role in religion was accessible and encouraged for both Athenian and Spartan women (perhaps even more so Spartan), something which many less valuable sources have assumed means they were inherently liberated, but it is impossible to ignore that in both societies religion only reaffirmed the oppressive gender roles that they were so tightly bound to; so while women might have benefitted from the more active role, the sentiment that they were no more than their wombs remained consistent. Thus, Spartan women perhaps benefited at face value from a more active role in a certain part of society, but in the long-term the religious cults only reaffirmed what prevented Spartan women, or Athenian Women, from being "liberated" in the first place.

Mythology and Literature

Contemporary Works available to classicists nowadays explore primarily Athenian ideals regarding women. Homer's Odyssey, for example, presents the "perfect Athenian wife' through the character of Penelope - she remains loyal to her husband for twenty years, obeys orders from her son in Odysseus' absence and is talented at Weaving (Haward, 1996). Any representation of a Spartan woman in ancient mythology and literature is through the perspective of an Athenian (or somewhere with similar ideals in Greece) and therefore taints the Historian's vision - just as almost all mythology and literature is also written by men. Helen of Sparta in mythology for example is a representation of all things Spartan - beauty and War. In Aeschylus' Agamemnon the Chorus certainly strike up fear regarding the figure of Helen; they claim her name, meaning "death", is entirely appropriate (Haward, 1996). This is evidence that a historian cannot know what a Spartan Woman was truly like - only that she was disapproved of by the rest of Greece.

Perhaps the tenuous hold that Historians have on Spartan women, due to a lack of mythology and literature Written at least by Spartan men, is what leads so many to reach the judgement that, just because they were different from Athenian women, they were more liberated than them. Hence why the title of this essay reads: 'more "liberated" - the liberation was what, at face value, appears to be but assessing in what way they benefited from this leads one to conclude whether or not this was "liberation' at all.

Conclusion

As stated in the introduction, to assess whether or not Spartan women were liberated, one must first assess whether or not they benefitted in the sectors of society wherein they are commonly believed to have been liberated. In the city state, a "voice" in politics was tenuous at best - a small percentage of exemplary women gained a voice through the Sayings of Spartar Women, but this was for the most part inaccessible to the common woman. Aside from this, they played no active role in politics. Similarly, the economy did not exclude Spartan women as in Athens and they did have the opportunity to acquire wealth, though again, this liberty was only accessible to the royal Spartan woman.

The more active role that Spartan women possessed in Education and Religion initially suggests a liberate society, but on closer inspection these sectors of the city state only reaffirm the idea that Spartan Women were primarily important to men for looking attractive to ensure they would have children for the cohesion of the state, and so while women may have benefitted in the short-term from these more "active' roles, on a grander scale it only solidified the very sentiment that caused their oppression. (Dougherty, 1991).

The fact that Spartan women enjoyed no sort of liberation and only another type of oppression is further evident in the study of sexual relations in the state. The sexual climate Was Wiolent and revolved around the idea of rape and capture when regarding Women - those who argue that Spartan women benefitted because they were married off at an appropriate age as opposed to the 14-year-old Athenian bride fail to recognise that Spartan women were set up for public scrutiny from the very day they were born (Pomeroy, 2002). This culture of violent sexual relations and the objectification of Women can be seen in its epitome in the Spartan marriage rituals - there is perhaps no clearer sign that Spartan women were subject to oppression just as all other women in Greece were, only in a different fashion (Harvey, 1984).

Research goes to prove that this is an issue still heavily debated by Classicists - many continue to argue that "Spartan women were in many ways among the most liberated of the ancient Greek world" (Zuckerman, 2000) whereas others conclude that Spartan women simply faced "another form of oppression" (Beard, 2016). The issue faces such great debate due to the, at times, tenuous evidence that remains of Sparta. A variety of sources have proved to be of varying relevance to the topic titleoversimplified websites lack evidence and depth to prove their claims that Sparta was a new wave state for Women's rights whereas other, more academic, sources sometimes lack the currency to assess in enough depth the different civilisations, as more recent excavations have prowed extremely helpful to the study of Women.

The more relevant and current academic resources agree with the thesis that Spartan Women were not liberated. Areas of society wherein Spartan women did perhaps benefit, on a larger scale, only reinforced the gender roles that lead to their oppression- their education was to make them better wives and child bearers, their role in religion similarly stemmed back to their fundamental position as wombs for the state. Just because the Spartan society was so different from Athens does not mean that their women were liberated relative to in Athenians; Spartan women faced oppression in Greece just as all women did - but the oppression correlated to the alternative Way in which Sparta functioned.

[citizenscreen]

I was having a conversation with another classic movie fan who has a particular admiration for Alfred Hitchcock. The number two came up in regards to the director’s Shadow of a Doubt, his personal favorite and one of mine as well. I didn’t think much of the number two when mentioned because anyone who enjoys Hitchcock movies knows – or has noticed – the importance of two (or duality) as a theme element. For instance, “the wrong man” theme that permeates many of his films suggests – at the very least – that most people have at their core the possibility of a dark side in addition to the good. Also, the numerous spies that play a part in many Hitchcock stories are – by definition – employing at least two sides of their personalities. Then there’s the in-your-face duality prevalent in Vertigo (1958) and Shadow of a Doubt’s own Uncle Charlie playing good guy while in actuality he’s a murdering scoundrel…and so forth. I think you get the picture. There are many examples of Hitchcock dualities.

The “twos” my friend referred to weren’t part of the duality theme, however. Or at least not only. What he meant was the actual presence of the number two or a noticeable mention of two or illustration of two throughout Shadow of a Doubt. Naturally that piqued my curiosity so I took another look at the movie, doing a double-take at every mention or illustration of two. What I found rather surprised me.

Here’s a brief Shadow of a Doubt refresher:

Charles Oakley loses the two men that are following him and suddenly decides to visit his sister Emma and her family in Santa Rosa, CA. Uncle Charlie, as his favorite niece and namesake, Charlie calls him, is a charming man who promises to break the monotony of life in Santa Rosa as young woman sees it. Unfortunately, what Uncle Charlie brings is murder and darkness to the otherwise idyllic small town. It is young Charlie, who has enjoyed a special bond with her uncle all of her life, who comes to recognize his crimes and becomes a hero in the process in a story told with dark humor, gorgeous imagery and singular precision by Sir Alfred Hitchcock.

Shadow of a Doubt Cast:

Teresa Wright as “Young Charlie” Newton

Joseph Cotten as Charles “Uncle Charlie” Oakley

Henry Travers as Joseph Newton

Patricia Collinge as Emma Newton

Macdonald Carey as Detective Jack Graham

Wallace Ford as Detective Fred Saunders

Hume Cronyn as Herbie Hawkins

Edna May Wonacott as Ann Newton

Charles Bates as Roger Newton

Irving Bacon as Station Master

If you prefer not to have the ending to Shadow of a Doubt spoiled you have two options – stop reading now or stop reading…NOW.

Twos in Shadow of a Doubt

There are two men looking for Uncle Charlie as announced by the landlord of the building where Charles Oakley temporarily resides at the onset of the story.

Two men following Charles

  When Charles Oakley calls the postal union to send a telegram to his sister about his visit the only number you see him dialing is the two on the rotary phone.

  There are two Charlies.

Elder and younger Charlies meet at the train station

  The mother of the younger Charlie and sister of the elder Charlie is named Emma, a name with a double letter. Emma was also Hitchcock’s mother’s name, by the way, and she died during the making of Shadow of a Doubt.

Two Charlies and an Emma

  The younger sister in the Newton family’s name is Ann, a name with a double letter. The bank manager’s name – where Mr. Newton (young Charlie’s father) works – is named Mr. Green and a Mrs. Green and a Mrs. Potter visit the bank while Charles Oakley is there to open an account. There is also a Mrs. Phillips in the movie. Young Charlie and Detective Graham go to dinner at the Gunnery Grill and Dr. and Mrs. Harry play cards with Alfred Hitchcock during his cameo in this picture.

Hitch is seen as a passenger with the killer hand on the train playing cards with Dr. and Mrs. Harry

  Ann is an avid reader who boasts of reading two books per week.

Ann answers the phone with book in hand

  When Uncle Charlie settles into young Charlie’s room in the Newton home he looks out the window to the idyllic neighborhood and there sees two women talking. In a later scene we see two women (maybe the same ones) walking past the Newton house.

  Uncle Charlie gives his sister Emma two gifts.

Doubt The family gathers around Emma to see the DOUBLE picture frame (with two pictures) she got from Charles as a gift along with the fur shawl she’s wearing.

  Uncle Charles’ gift to young Charlie is a ring with two sets of initials engraved on it.

  Most of the characters in Shadow of a Doubt have last names with two syllables, including the two aliases used by Charles Oakley as he tries to evade law enforcement – Mr. Spencer, an alias based on his mother’s maiden name, is used at the beginning and he is Mr. Otis on the train ride toward Santa Rosa.

  Two strangers want to interview the Newton family for an article and the man with the camera (luckily) carries two rolls of film with him. Although these two strangers are the same two detectives who have been following Charles Oakley since the beginning of the movie, it’s interesting that “two strangers” is how they are referred to by Emma. This mirrors how the landlady had referred to the two men earlier.

In this lobby card we see Uncle Charlie asking for the roll of film from one of the men because he doesn’t want to be photographed. Interestingly, the man has TWO rolls of film.

  Young Charlie wears a jacket/cape with two large buttons when she goes to the train station to greet Uncle Charlie. I wouldn’t have thought twice about that if she is not seen later wearing two bird brooches. She wears the brooches to the library to which she goes in a hurry, scurrying past a clock tower at an angle where two clocks are visible.

  The latest Merry Widow murder victim had two names as young Charlie reads in the newspaper, “Mrs. Bruce Matthewson, the former musical comedy star, known to audiences at the beginning of this century as ‘the beautiful Thelma Schenley.'”

  Uncle Charlie takes young Charlie to a bar called the Til-Two Club to talk about the young woman’s suspicions. The young waitress, a former schoolmate of young Charlie, has been working at the Til-Two for two weeks. Uncle Charlie orders a double brandy.

Young Charlie is followed by her uncle. He catches up with her in front of the Til-Two where the two talk.

The Charlies with the waitress who has worked at the Til-Two for two weeks

  Young Charlie missed detective Graham when he stopped by her house two times looking for her.

  We find out that “The trailing detectives are after two men” either of which may be the Merry Widow Murderer. During a conversation with young Charlie, Detective Saunders mentions to her that they should know which of the two men is the killer in a wire arriving in two hours.

  Once young Charlie is convinced her uncle is a murderer he tries to kill her two times before the final showdown. Once on the stairs of the Newton home and again by locking her in the garage with the car ignition on.

Luckily for young Charlie family friend, Herbie was passing by when Uncle Charlie locked her in the garage.

  There are two train scenes in the movie, Charles Oakley’s arrival and Charles Oakley’s departure.

  Joe and Herbie, two friends who like to talk about the perfect murder, have two such conversations in the movie.

Discussing murder in detail twice in the movie.

  Charlie has two girlfriends she runs into two times in the movie.

Young Charlie runs into two girlfriends twice – here she is accompanied by Det. Jack Graham (Macdonald Carey)

  Shadow of a Doubt features two garage scenes and two dinner table scenes. The latter statistic took me by surprise because these scenes are so vital to the film it seems like there are more of them.

Dinner – where families bond

  Mirror images/double shots – can you ignore the mirror images of the two Charlies as two sides of the same person? Maybe? In the following two images from the beginning of the movie we see the Charlies in each of their respective rooms with people speaking to them from the doorway.

Then we have the Charlies as two menacing figures illustrated in two similar images at different points in the story with one Charlie posing a threat to the other – both standing at the doorway to the Newton house from different perspectives.

  Finally, it takes two trains to bring Uncle Charlie to justice.

It take two trains

  I’ve dedicated several posts to Mr. Hitchcock on this blog either as commentaries on his work in general or on specific movies. The one thing that I invariably mention is his attention to detail and the fact that Hitchcock left nothing to chance. Nothing. So while several of the twos included on the above list may seem silly I think there’s something to this number two matter. And who knows how many I may have missed?! What can all the twos mean beyond the duality theme? Are they just subtle ways to bring home that message? At the very least these twos play on our psyche, don’t they? What do you think? Is all of this a dual figment of my imagination? Or are they coincidences?

  PS – When Uncle Charlie knocks over the water glass at dinner – he uses two fingers to do so.

  More on Hitchcock:

The Hitchcock Signature

Alfred Hitchcock’s PSYCHO (1960)

Self-Plagiarism is Style: Hitchcock, Grant and North by Northwest

Hitchcock on a Train

Madeleine Carroll Set the Standard in Hitchcock’s SECRET AGENT (1936)

Hitchcock Returns to London in a FRENZY (1972)

Just Another Hitchcock Spy Story…THE 39 STEPS 

Hitchcock’s Masterpiece, REAR WINDOW

Cary Grant: The Road to Suspicion

Twos in Hitchcock’s SHADOW OF A DOUBT (1943), Are They Coincidences? I was having a conversation with another classic movie fan who has a particular admiration for…