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dwellordream · 3 years

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“Girls’ schools promoted an intense female peer culture which contrasted with the disciplines of moralistic home environments. Evidence from the accounts of girls attending the myriad female seminaries and girls’ boarding schools throughout the Northeast suggests that their academic programs were relatively gentle, and that their peer culture was powerful and often fun. Despite the best efforts of outnumbered teachers, relations with friends tended to overshadow lessons learned. Overwhelmingly when girls wrote home to their parents, they described the girls they had met, and the antics they had shared; in diaries they noted the romantic intimacies they had formed, with academic work generating only occasional mention.

Girls’ peer life at school was high-spirited, collective, and ritualized all at once. Teachers themselves often participated. At Miss Porter’s in Farmington, Connecticut, in 1860, teachers organized a costume party, suggested characters for everyone, and helped sew costumes—perhaps in part a sewing lesson. (For Lily Dana, suggestions included an elf, Mischief, or a witch.) At a Prospect Hill School party in 1882, townspeople came, the girls wore flowers and white dresses, and Margaret Tileston reported that she had done the quadrille with Miss Clarke and the gallop with Miss Tuxbury—concluding that she had had ‘‘a very nice time.’’

Girls remembering their days at convent schools report similar good times. Julia Sloane Spalding recalled elegiacally her years at Nazareth Academy, a school run by the Sisters of Charity in Louisville, Kentucky, in the 1850s. ‘‘The sisters allowed us to romp and play, dance and sing as we pleased and our stage performances were amusing, if they had no greater merit. Musical soirees, concerts, serenades and minstrelsy kept our spirits attuned to gladness. Varied by picnics, lawn parties, hayrides, phantom parties, nutting parties in summer and candy pullings and fancy balls with Nazareth’s colored band to fiddle.’’

Exclaimed Spalding, ‘‘O what fun!’’ in fond reflection on the good times among the sisters who served ‘‘good substantial sandwiches, cakes and fruit’’ from ‘‘great big baskets.’’ She concluded, ‘‘and so, the spice of life conduced to our health and happiness.’’ Mary Anne Murphy arrived at Nazareth Academy with her sister in 1859 during a quadrille, the slave musicians calling out the figures. She and her sister stood in ‘‘wonderment that such fun was tolerated in a convent.’’ Whatever the nostalgia of middle age, certainly these reflections suggest that elite Catholic and Protestant girls’ academies left some of their richest memories in collective fun.

If teachers sponsored some activities, they implicitly sanctioned many more. Wilfrida Hogan attended the Sisters of St. Joseph convent school in St. Paul in the 1870s and remembers fondly her class, which was known for its lively irreverence: ‘‘Each girl seemed to view the other as to who could play the biggest pranks, or have the most fun.’’

Ellen Emerson overflowed with delight in a letter to her mother (significantly, not her father) while at Miss Sedgwick’s School in Lenox, Massachusetts: ‘‘Every night we do things which it seems to me I can never remember without laughing if I should live to be a hundred. The most absurd concerts, ludicrous charades, peculiar battles etc. etc. Then the wildest frolics, the loudest shrieks, the most boisterous rolling and tumbling that eye ever saw, ear ever heard or heart ever imagined. I consider myself greatly privileged that every night I can see and join such delightful romps.’’

When teachers were around, the pranks were more likely to occur upstairs in student bedrooms. Lily Dana and friends joined together to victimize two other girls by putting crumbs in their bed, and cutting off candle wicks. Another evening Dana noted that she ‘‘Had some fun throwing pillows and nightgowns,’’ and though Miss Porter caught her, it did not seem to dampen much her spirits. Teachers at girls’ schools were occasion- ally disciplinarians, clearly.

One teacher told Lily Dana that ‘‘she supposed my mother let me do everything,’’ and the sisters at St. Mary’s Academy in South Bend, Indiana, turned the piano to the wall in order to keep girls from waltzing with each other. Yet students often emerged victorious; at St. Mary’s they played combs for dance music instead. (One participant reported that ‘‘the Sisters had to give up, for they knew not what to do.’’) The ideology of nurture combined with the shared exuberance of age mates overpowered much teacherly remonstrance.

It is sometimes hard to read such tales of schoolgirl exuberance without wondering whether the inmates had taken over the asylum, however, so a corrective is in order. One such account which requires a second look is the spirited account of Agnes Repplier, In Our Convent Days (1906), about her time in the late 1860s at a Pennsylvania school run by the Sisters of the Sacred Heart. Repplier writes of the pranks and passions of her band of seven partners in crime, in an ebulliant account designed to appeal to a readership newly attracted to childhood naughtiness in revolt against Victorian propriety. It is clear in retrospect, though, that she must have concealed or minimized an- other side to her experiences. For the denouement of her story is her expulsion and removal from a school she adored.

Peer cultures could also be cruel and hurtful beyond the control of evangelical teachers, as the practices of hazing in British public schools testify. Some of the most painful memories of inclusion and exclusion in girls’ schools centered around that most primal of media, the sharing of food. Food boxes, customarily sent from home, were the occasion for impromptu parties, a demonstration of wealth and taste, or an opportunity to play favorites.

The elation which greeted such arrivals might well prove a commentary on the regular fare at boarding schools, which sometimes undoubtedly was very poor. (The advice giver Mary Virginia Terhune’s critique of girls’ boarding schools included the accusation that they fed their students from a ‘‘common vat’’ which supplied breakfast, dinner, and supper all together, a practice partially confirmed by one account of eating the same stew at least twice a day at an Ursuline academy in San Antonio in the 1890s.)

At any rate, the arrival of food from home occasioned select gatherings and provided opportunities for discrimination among friends. When one friend’s mother brought good things to eat, Josie Tilton noted that ‘‘we’’ had a feast tonight, explaining for the future who she would always mean when she said ‘‘we’’—‘‘Lizzie, Emma, May and I’’— the groupness secured by inclusion in this select group of diners.

Lily Dana suspected a friend of being miserly and so snuck into her room to inspect. ‘‘There was a box which had been filled with cake, part of a pie and several other things filling her trunk nearly half full. . . . If I had a box sent to me I think I should give my friend more than ‘five or six cookies.’’’ If girls could feel short-changed by each other, relations with parents could also strain over the sending of food boxes, which represented extremely conspicuous con- sumption for girls attempting to ‘‘belong.’’

In an unusually direct letter home in the 1840s, Maria Nellis passed on to her parents her unmediated hurt and sense of disadvantage in the competition for food—and the status that came with it. Elizabeth got her box yesterday and was favoured with six times more things than I was. Her box was so large and heavy the master found it his match to carry it upstairs. She has 4 kinds of cake, nuts, apples, candy, clothing and every thing else, but after all, Dear Poppy, I am not jealous. . . . When you sent that box you did not send half what I asked. I was very disappointed. You said it would be eatables, but it wasn’t. You sent only a few apples, one cake and some clothes. Why didn’t you send me some nuts? I haven’t had a nut yet this winter, and indeed I expected nuts above all things. E. Fox had a box worth speaking of. Now that shows that you don’t care enough for me to even send me a few nuts.

Intermittently, Nellis regained control, but her grievance was palpable. Finally at the end, she acknowledged to her parents that she might be hurting their feelings, reassured them that she loved them all with ‘‘a deep and fervent love,’’ and promised better behavior in the future. Clearly at stake for her was both status in the school world and a primitive sense of deprivation in her own family.

As the correspondence suggests, the emotional atmosphere in girls’ boarding schools was not only intense but more expressive and enacted than that within moralistic, Victorian households. Within private, female, boarding academies, duty-bound Victorian daughters learned languages of sentiment, desire, and emotional excess censored from other parts of their lives. The elaborate conventions accompanying the expression and affirmation of affection among boarding-school girls, sometimes involving teachers as well, was indeed a separate ‘‘female world of love and ritual,’’ as Carroll Smith-Rosenberg affirmed in a classic article about nineteenth-century women’s culture.

In recent years, Smith-Rosenberg’s ‘‘Female World of Love and Ritual’’ has been attacked for its overgeneralizing characterization of an exclusively female emotional sphere in the nineteenth century, but her strongest evidence confirms the significance, the power, and the longevity of girls’ boarding school friendships, which were enacted through elaborate rituals in a range of schools.

The rituals of boarding school life centered around the making and breaking of special friendships, known variously as ‘‘affinities,’’ ‘‘specials,’’ or ‘‘darlings’’ and increasingly as either ‘‘smashes’’ or ‘‘crushes.’’ One way of expressing interest was to ‘‘filipine’’ with someone, to leave her a surprise gift outside her door. (When Lily Dana was caught, she needed to give her gift, a large apple, outright.) Such relationships played out in diaries, letters, and the poetry of autograph books. Girls expected to pair up for many school activities and entertained a variety of ‘‘dates’’ with different girls for walking, going to church, and sleeping.

Sally Dana wrote home to her mother explaining that she was following her father’s advice not to form special friendships too soon, and so had ‘‘slept in eight different beds.’’ During these private moments, girls would share secrets about their own likes and dislikes, each other, their teachers, families, and their school lives. The intricacy of such social calendars opened ample opportunities for misunderstanding and frayed feelings.

These peer relationships characterized elite female seminaries in the North- east, but they also appeared in a range of schools, including the African American Scotia Seminary, founded by the American Missionary Association in Concord, North Carolina, following the Civil War. Scotia had northern roots, which may have influenced its student culture. Glenda Gilmore tells us it was modeled on Mount Holyoke, and was ‘‘calculated to give students the knowledge, social consciousness, and sensibilities of New England ladies, with a strong dose of Boston egalitarianism sprinkled in.’’

Roberta Fitzgerald went to Scotia in the early twentieth century and kept a composition book, likely in 1902, which was filled with the talismans of schoolgirl crushes. A note inside addressed to ‘‘Dear Roberta’’ asked, ‘‘Will you please exchang rings with me today and you may ware mine again,’’ and Roberta herself wrote a sad poem to a friend ‘‘Lu’’ who had thrown her over.

And so you see as I am deemed

Most silently to wait

I cannot but be womanlike

And meekly await my fate.

Ah! sweet it is to love a girl

But truly oh! how bitter

To love a girl with all your heart

And then to hear ‘‘Cant get her.’’

And Lulu dear as I must here

Relinquish with a moan

May your joys be as deep as the ocean

And your sorrow as light as its foam.

On the back of the notebook, which also contained class assignments, was a confidence exchanged with a seatmate. ‘‘I was teasing Bess Hoover about you and she told me she loved you dearly.’’

For those much in demand, this charged atmosphere of flirtation and intimacy in the North and South represented an exhilarating round of fun and sport. For those less secure, diaries and letters presented an obvious outlet for the anguish of the neglected. Agnes Hamilton, a member of a Fort Wayne clan which sent several daughters to boarding school on their way to prominent careers in progressive America, experienced some of both. Sometimes she basked in the glow of family reputation; often she worried over her own inability to keep up with her illustrious cousins. Her unusually detailed accounts document an entire school culture rather than just an individual emotional life.

Hamilton’s first impressions of school social life at Miss Porter’s School were favorable, but even these revealed insecurities to come. In an entry from November 1886, when she was seventeen, Hamilton noted that ‘‘Farmington is just as perfect as they all said it would be, the girls, Miss Porter, and all.’’ Her reservation had to do with her own imperfections: ‘‘But I don’t think I am the right sort of a Farmington girl.’’ Even so, Agnes was in demand, describing a flurry of close attentions from numerous girls. A week later, in her cousin’s absence, she received displaced attentions:

Yesterday Mannie was very nice to me. I suppose she thinks I am lonely without Alice. We walked past the fill around by the river to the graveyard. Then she came in and we talked for an hour. All evening we were together. This afternoon we walked together too for Tuesday is her day with Alice. We went down to the green house where Mannie gave me some lovely roses. I would give anything to know what she thinks of me. . . . Will I ever be able to talk and be jolly as other girls? Some girls are frightfully stupid and yet they can make themselves somewhat agreeable. I have struck up a sudden friendship with Lena Farnam. We were together Saturday afternoon and evening and Sunday I asked her to be my church girl in Alice’s place.

Agnes was still in a position to be picky, noting one drawback: Lena ‘‘seems very nice indeed but I wish she were not only fifteen.’’ Lena was far from the only prospect. Agnes noted another new friend: ‘‘I have seen a great deal lately of Edith Trowbridge too. When she overcomes her shyness she will be exceedingly nice.’’ Not surprisingly, with all the intensity of the socializing, Agnes mentioned with no comment that only three out of thirteen in the class were prepared for their lessons that Tuesday. In those early weeks, Agnes Hamilton’s enthusiasm for this exciting life of emotional intrigue was palpable. The next week (she seems to have written on Tuesdays), Agnes announced to her diary ‘‘the jolliest crush in school’’ involving one of her very own intimates of the week before.

‘‘I walked with Edith Trowbridge this afternoon, on purpose to have her tell me about Lena. I hinted and hinted in vain. I told her about every other crush in school but she never said a word about Lena’s, so at last I told her that I knew all about it but even then she would not say a word about the subject. I hope she will tell Lena so that she will speak to me about it next Saturday when we are driving.’’ The triangulation of such relationships increased the possibilities for intrigue. Agnes wearied a bit of the uncooperative Edith, though, observing that though ‘‘very nice . . . she did not get over her stiffness.’’

Agnes Hamilton seemed to be trying to do her schoolwork, but her roller- coaster social life intervened. One day when she was preparing for class, a friend came by to teach her a dance step, from which she was interrupted by the arrival of a buggy she had rented to take another friend for a ride, the same girl whose ‘‘jolly’’ crush had amused her the week before. (‘‘The more I see of her the better I like,’’ she now reported. ‘‘Her face is rather attractive at first and then it grows on one.’’) When she returned, she found another visitor who stayed till it was time for tea.

The result: ‘‘I have not looked at my Mental since Thursday.’’ By the end of the same day, yet a new ‘‘crush’’ had taken over when Agnes got word of someone’s interest in her, and Agnes wondered ‘‘if I have ever been as actively happy.’’ The frenzy had settled down a week later, when Agnes announced that she had all her walking days ‘‘just as I want them.’�� Each day of the week was assigned a different companion, with whom Agnes would exchange intimacies and gossip, using the rituals of girls’ school life to structure its emotional extravagance.

One must conclude that the intensity of the social life was seen to serve some purpose, for evidence suggests that it was allowed to flourish until the turn of the century. (Lily Dana noted that Miss Porter’s permission had been sought for at least one and probably more sleeping dates.) At that time, new sexualized interpretations of girls’ and women’s friendships brought a crackdown on such friendships. At the time, though, they appear to have received official sanction. In fact, one of the first of Ladies’ Home Journal ’s ‘‘Side Talks with Girls’’ took up the question of ‘‘School Girl Friendships.’’ The Journal endorsed such girlish relationships for their innocence and energy and their precious brevity, saluting ‘‘the giddy, gushing period’’ as one which ‘‘never comes to some and to most it soon passes.’’

In particular, it contrasted this girlish spontaneity with the superficiality of the jaded young lady. Its contrast of ‘‘young girls, lively, radiant, energetic, spirited, loving girls’’ with ‘‘young ladies who talk of their beaux, dresses and the surface shows of society’’ represented another version of a conventional warning against precociousness. Girls’ crushes on other girls were still perceived as innocent and healthy—and would be well after doctors first began to cast suspicion over such relationships in the 1880s and 1890s.”

- Jane H. Hunter, “Competitive Practices: Sentiment and Scholarship in Secondary Schools.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood

#victorian #history #education #sexuality #american #jane h. hunter #how young ladies became girls

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becuzitisbitter · 3 years

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All Cops Are Bad

The last of the essays i will be posting that I wrote for school, this one is an attempt at an approachable ACAB argument (my professor said that she was persuaded, at least)

There is an old slogan with roots at least as far back as the 1920’s and is yet becoming more and more popular across the globe today: “All coppers are bastards.” Of course, most people just say “cops” these days. The extensive history of the slogan might even make one stop to wonder why the police have been the object of such long-standing antagonism, if one isn’t the sort to grasp the slogan’s truth intuitively. The reality is that all cops really are bastards, not in a literal sense, of course, but in the derogatory usage which communicates despicability. The goal of this essay is to convince the reader that the police are bad and that policing should be done away with entirely. After all, the police present themselves as the vanguard of the state’s repressive urges and as the guarantors of an order defined by deprivation and violence.

Olivia B. Waxman, writing for Time Magazine, points to economic forces as dictating the development of the means and aims utilized by policing institutions in the U.S. She writes that businesses had already been hiring private security to protect the transport and storage of their property, and that, “These merchants came up with a way to save money by transferring to the cost of maintaining a police force to citizens by arguing that it was for the “collective good.” (Waxman) In other words, America’s first publicly funded police force was simply picking up after the work of private businesses to protect their own property, but with the cost foisted upon those who were being kept out. She continues this economic argument as she traces the lineage of the modern police force back to its forerunners in the Southern runaway slave patrols. She writes, “the economics that drove the creation of police forces were centered not on the protection of shipping interests but on the preservation of the slavery system”. Thus, the primary policing institutions in the South were the slave patrols, the first of which was formally established in 1704. (Waxman)

The police developed historically to enforce property rights rather than to ensure the wellbeing of the populace. If it is understood that white supremacy encodes human skin with either privilege or dispossession, it should be understood that, as Mariame Kaba writes in an opinion piece published by the New York Times, “when you see a police officer pressing his knee into a black man’s neck until he dies, that’s the logical result of policing in America. When a police officer brutalizes a black person, he is doing what he sees as his job.” (Kaba) Kaba is an organizer against criminalization and a self-described police abolitionist because she believes that “a ‘safe’ world is not one in which the police keep black and other marginalized people in check through threats of arrest, incarceration, violence and death.” The police, then, are not focused on creating a safe world. They are interested in preserving the world as it is, which demands a tacit defense of misogynistic and white supremacist institutions.

Regardless of personal attitudes or goals, the undeniable outcome of two hundred years of policing in America has been an uninterrupted avalanche of mostly arbitrary violence aimed at preserving the rule of law, that is, the sanctity of private property. In just the last year, the discourse about the role and place of police in our society has exploded with new questions and new ideas. What makes this conversation so powerful is that the police are considered so essential to the functioning of the modern world that the abolitionist movement must necessarily carry indictments on many other institutions and ways of relating that are bound-up with policing.

Of course, many readers will be quick to react defensively. Most disagreements with the argument presented here will take one of two forms: the claim that the argument over-generalizes police, and the claim that the police fill such an essential role that society couldn’t hope to provide an acceptable standard of life in their absence. Both will be addressed below.

The former argument comes in many varieties. One might even say, “It is unfair to judge such a large group by the actions of a few bad apples,” without being aware that they were reversing the meaning of the idiom they are attempting to make use of, which actually originated as “A rotten apple quickly infects its neighbor,” according to Ben Zimmer, who is a linguist and language columnist for The Wall Street Journal. (Cunningham) Regardless of the backwardness of this idiom, many would maintain that it is wrong to generalize police or stereotype their actions based on our perceptions of a few bad actors. Some police may abuse their power, or harbor prejudice, many readers would contend, but most police officers are decent people doing their best under difficult conditions. The truth, however, is that literally all cops bring about harm simply by doing the jobs that they signed up for. To go a step further, even if every police officer were to act in good faith, the task of maintaining a status quo defined by inequality would still force officers into the position of beating the cold, poor, and hungry back from the resources they need to live comfortably. This world of deprivation is not worth defending, and yet every cop has signed up to defend it. Some readers might still say that to pain the police with such a broad brush, is to commit an act of prejudice on par with the attitudes the police are criticized for, but they are grasping at straws. No one becomes a police officer by accident. By switching careers, they could avoid such judgement entirely. One wonders if they would feel the same about criticizing other groups which are entirely opt-in, such as MS-13 or the Taliban.

Could there ever be such a thing as a good cop? No. Here is one example that I think demonstrates a larger principle: even if a given police officer is a dedicated and educated anti-racist, the logistical deployment of police departments across the US places more officers in poor neighborhoods and communities of color than in wealthy or majority-white areas. This means that even the most kind-hearted police would be more likely to detain or arrest poor people and people of color than affluent whites. This is only one facet of a fundamentally unjust system. The development of police departments as racist and anti-working-class institutions across History means that they are structurally and institutionally racist and anti-working-class in the here and now. Police departments continue to defy reform because the problem is intentionally encoded into their purpose. They must be done away with entirely.

When a protestor or graffiti artist echoes the old slogan that, “All cops are bastards,” it is an expression of a tautology. Like the phrase “All triangles have three sides,” the slogan contains its own truth. All triangles have three sides because it is part of the definition of triangles to have three sides. We can’t even conceive of a triangle with four sides because by having four sides, it would cease to be a triangle. Despicability is written into the definition of policing because the aims of policing are themselves despicable. Any cop that ceased to work toward the aims of policing would cease to be deplorable, maybe, but he would also cease to be a cop as surely as a triangle with four sides would cease to be a triangle.

The second primary counter argument to criticism of the police is that the police are a necessary evil, essential to protecting us from a rousseauian war of all against all. This assumption that humanity could not get by without police seems silly, after all, the police are only a modern institution, hardly a blip in humanity’s story. It has already been shown that the police were not created to protect the average person from harm, but to protect private property rights. In any case, a counter argument from consequences is not the same as a refutation. One need not know the correct answer to a problem to recognize a wrong one. When asked, “What would you do with the psycho serial killers?” one should be unabashedly honest about not knowing the answer because there is no one answer. The answer to each problem can only be located in the context in which the problem occurs. This reflex to reach for a one-size-fits-all answer for all of life’s problems, along with its concomitant desire to preserve the tedious “peace” of the status quo, do a lot to explain the psychology of pro-police arguments.

Neither the means nor ends of policing are acceptable. The forces that shape and control our world, be they corporate or political, tower over us such that we only ever meet with their basest appendages. The police are their piggy-toes, pun-intended. Admittedly, the arguments presented here will be significantly weaker in the mind of anyone who really feels good about the state of the world which police maintain, however little is likely to be gained in dialogue with someone who could maintain a positive view of concentration camps, needless and ceaseless killings, the continuation of slave labor in the prison system, mass food-insecurity, etc.

It is incumbent upon each of us to improve the world around us. The police are an impediment to a better, safer, freer world. They are antithetical to equity, autonomy, and community; that is why all who fight too hard for a better life eventually find themselves faced with the police, one way or another. Nevertheless, while so much hangs in the balance, we can’t let the bastards get us down.

Works Cited

Olivia B. Waxman. “How the U.S. Got Its Police Force” Time Magazine, https://time.com/4779112/police-history-origins/ Published: 5/18/2017, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

Mariame Kaba. “Yes, We Mean Literally Abolish the Police” The New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/12/opinion/sunday/floyd-abolish-defund-police.html Published: 6/12/2020, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

Malorie Cunningham. “'A few bad apples': Phrase describing rotten police officers used to have different meaning”

https://abcnews.go.com/US/bad-apples-phrase-describing-rotten-police-officers-meaning/story?id=71201096 Published: 6/14/2020, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

#school #homework #essay

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george5259999 · 3 years

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Week 8 - Digital Iteration

This week's tutorial was really interesting and entertaining. One of my personal hobbies is digital rendering (mainly in Blender), but it was really nice to go out of my comfort zone to a program I have only ever used once before. When I opened 3ds Max for the first time, I noticed how similar the interface looked to Maya. Being Autodesk programs natively, it made sense, but it was nice to have some element of familiarity.

During my year 10 and 11 high school holidays I completed a Cert IV in digital design for games and film. That coursed used Maya and Unreal Engine 4, so I had a bit of experience with the interface and principles of polygon modelling. However, 3ds max was probably one of the popular programs which I had the least experience with; so it was still a hugely informative and insightful process trying to adapt my knowledge between programs.

I started with the primitives menu, and imported a sphere into the workspace. I initially found myself struggling with the interface. There are a lot of options and features which are not necessary when learning the basics of a program. When starting to learn any 3d program, I often find myself spoiled for choice, and perhaps even too overwhelmed. I was very glad when the tutorial suggested hiding some superfluous menus from view, as I felt that it really cleared up the screen. After aligning the views (Image 1), I experimented with the modifiers tab.

The modifiers in 3ds max were really interesting to play around with. Working with meshes can sometimes be a tedious and particular process, but it was really enjoyable creating something with no end goal in mind. I liked how using a squeeze modifier (Image 2) could generate an egg shape with the sphere primitive, and how the melt, twist and wave modifiers (Images 3, 4 and 5) could be pushed to the mesh extremes. When working with a mesh, the topology is important to the quality of the final form. As the entire object is constructed of tris and quads, the way they are situated on the model, and their resolution play an important role in what you see. For example, the more I increased the twist modifier, the more I could see the vertices sticking out of the shape. It goes to show that unless the resolution is increased, there are limitations to the modifiers usage, as they can 'break' your model.

The modifiers in 3ds Max are very different to the ones in blender, I definitely feel like in any 3D program, anything you can create in one is attainable in the other; however 3ds max has a lot of mesh deformation modifiers out of the box. Although I thought these created really interesting and abstract shapes which I certainly enjoyed, I realised that I couldn't think of many instances where I would use some of the modifiers on a real project, but I think they are really valuable for niche tasks.

My favourite part about the exercise was learning poly modelling in 3ds Max. Poly modelling is a core part of most 3d modelling programs; and the skills are usually transferrable between. There are some really fantastic modelling tools in 3ds max which make the process of modelling enjoyable. I had a look around my desk for some quick and interesting forms I could make, and started with a really simple apple using the sphere I had in the viewport. I utilised the 'soft select' (Image 6) feature to move many verts at once, to create the top and bottom crease in the apple where the stem travels. To create the stem, I used the cylinder primitive and used the taper/bend modifier to create a curved and natural form (Image 7).

Next, I used the cylinder primitive and used the scale and extrusion feature to get the barrel of a pen. To create the tip of the pen I target welded the vertices together to get the point. I created a new cube primitive to create the clip on the pen, and extruded it (Image 8); also creating a bevelled edge to round it out slightly. Using the same techniques, I also made a stool from my room (Image 9). I really wanted to experiment with as many features as I could in these exercises, so with each 'sketch' I tried to focus on a tool I hadn't used before - as it felt like the best way to improve (Image 10). Still getting comfortable with the Poly Modelling in 3ds max, I also made a cupcake (Image 11) from the basic cylinder primitive to try and improve my modelling quality and speed; making simple extrusions, scaling the rings in, rotating them to get the icing layers. I played around with NURMS subdivision on the mesh to smooth it out, and was really happy with the results.

Finally, I wanted to use all the skills in conjunction, as well as using a tool which really sped up the workflow. I knew from Blender and Maya that loop cuts sped up the process, but I could not find them in 3ds max. After researching the issue on different forums, I found that it went under a different name; Swift loop Though it was very basic problem solving, it goes to show that these skills and programs have transferrable knowledge; and doing a simple search of your problem can lead to new ways of solving them. Swift loop was really useful in creating a loop cut between two parallel edges; adding more geometry for manipulation. When creating the tape dispenser, I noticed that the subdivision was rounding the model out too much, to the point where it no longer registered as a tape dispenser. So I used the swift loop feature to create loop cuts close to the bordering edges to reduce the interpolation between the curve (Images 12 and 13). This taught me that the subdivision modifiers aren't just something that can be added to a model to instantly make it look better; they require some manipulation and editing to get the desired effect.

I found 3ds max challenging but really interesting and insightful. As I am familiar with other programs of similar nature, it took me a while to get out of my own head; using shortcuts and hotkeys from the other programs and wondering why it wouldn't work. Overall, I think that its really rewarding to pick up another program, as it expands my skills and approach to modelling. If I were to redo this activity, I think I would try and make some more complex forms now that I have gotten more comfortable with 3ds Max; perhaps moving onto a product or more complex object. I am really looking forward to creating the bottle concepts in 3ds max next week, as I believe it will be another chance to improve my skills.

Thoughts on the Pre-Class activity - Andrew Simpson case Study

I believe that digital modelling and physical models have a closer relationship than people think. Form and Materials are an important part of perception, but there are qualities of both physical and digital modelling provide when compared to one another. Digital models allow for material iteration, simulation and rendering. Physical models allow for the physical contact, and interaction with the end user. When Andrew discusses the importance of materiality, it drives home the necessity of experimentation and versatility in design. The idea of new materials informed new processes in his decision making process, and it lead to different material types being explored.

I found Andrew's discussion on model fidelity really insightful. I perceive high and low fidelity models to represent how close the model is to a refined product. Whilst a high fidelity model would be fantastic to show clients or to use in renders, low fidelity models are required to quickly iterate on concepts and ideas to test the boundaries of the product e.g. material, form, colour. High fidelity models are more refined, and have more time put into them, to explore how the end product will feel for the user. High fidelity and low fidelity models are both important, and when Andrew talks about the non-uniform relationship of the two in his process, it shows that design is not a linear process; rather a circular one driven by prototyping and feedback. If a high fidelity model still doesn't feel right, faster, low fidelity models can be made testing a range of new ideas; to be taken through the process of design once again.

#ides1262 2021 week 8

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 3 years

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Letter from a disenchanted student of the Divine Principle

Many Unification Church members seem to think people who left the organization are like some kind of lapsed Catholics, but most of those people just recognized Moon’s absurd and contradictory rhetoric had absolutely no relationship to reality – I pointed out many of those obvious contradictions in my previous letter to Rev Moon. Even the vaunted Divine Principle was not his own teaching. Much of it came from a woman called Seong-do Kim whose revelations began in 1923. She stated that Jesus did not come to die (not new because other Christians had taught this previously), she also taught that the fall was a sexual sin (again not new because Jewish scholars suggested this long ago and anyone can recognize the association, even sex shops use a bitten apple to advertise their wares). She also taught about the change of blood lineage through the messiah – thus justifying all the deviant sexual activity involved in the pikareum rituals. Another source was a woman called Chong Deuk-eun who dictated a book called the Principle of Life in 1946-47. It was published in 1958.

The history parallels were taken straight from the teachings of Baek-moon Kim’s Israel Monastery – being the reason they finish in 1917, which was Baek-moon’s birth date rather than 1920 when Moon was born. The final Divine Principle book was composed by a committee guided by Hyo-won Eu with input from Young Oon Kim and various professors. So rather than being a direct revelation, the DP is actually an interesting amalgam of Christian theology, nineteenth century science, Oriental philosophy and shamanism – added to the insights and teachings that were taken from various Korean spiritual groups.  

This was why I felt free to approach much of the DP as almost allegorical because the main thing to emphasize was personal spiritual maturity – the development of a loving parental heart. (The real meaning of ‘perfection’.) I never believed that absolute Cain/Abel rubbish spouted by Moon and Japanese leaders. I remember one itinerant worker saying, ‘If my central figure tells me this red dress is blue then it’s blue.’ Absolutely insane – but this is exactly the kind of thing that has been propagated by the Moon family and their minions, especially in Japan, and it leads to all kinds of abuses.

  In addition to the DP we also have Rev. Moon’s great blessing theory, whereby through downing a glass of holy wine and being engrafted to his lineage we become capable of conceiving pure offspring, free from original sin. These ‘blessed’ children can then form the core of the heavenly kingdom on earth, of course with the ‘True Parents’ and their children at the absolute center. However, the proof of any pudding is in the eating – regardless of how good the recipe might sound. So let us look at the results, the fruits of the messiah and his teaching.

We can start with some of his own blessed children: Ye Jin – (Divorced.) Hyo Jin – was a drug addict, I saw him give a sermon one time when he was so stoned he had to hold on to the podium in order to stand up. He punched and kicked his wife, Nansook Hong, watched pornography, walked around with a gun in his pocket and beat up church members. (Divorced.) In Jin – was forced to resign her position because it became public knowledge about her affairs with two married members and the illegitimate child she had with one of them. (Divorced.) Un Jin – said clearly on TV that her father was not the messiah, and that the church was just about power and money. (Divorced.)   Hyun Jin, the kind-hearted business expert who wanted to cut the salaries of our church’s jewelry workers by a third – I saw a video of him calling a church leader an arrogant bastard and kicking him as the man knelt before him. No matter what the guy was guilty of, this was just one more example of the violence perpetrated by the Moon family. Which of course was epitomized by Cleopas, the black Zimbabwean supposedly embodying the spirit of Heung Jin, who went around the world viciously beating up men and women, putting some in hospital. He even threatened church members with a pistol. (All of it approved by Rev Moon who laughed at the beatings and had himself used a baseball bat on members.)  

Kook Jin – an arms dealer who said Abel wouldn’t have been killed if he’d had a gun. Divorced his wife and had himself re-blessed with a Korean beauty queen. He now has his own group of armed ‘knights’ willing to do whatever he orders. (Divorced.)   Hyung Jin, the heir apparent (according to him), lied about getting a BA from Harvard when he actually attained a lower qualification – and if he thinks the parable of the sower is referring to ‘absolute sex’ I think he needs to go back to Divinity School. His Sanctuary Church now promotes the owning of AR-15 semi-automatic assault rifles, and has ceremonies with participants carrying these lethal weapons while wearing bizarre crowns of bullets. According to one of his recent speeches, all the women of the world are ‘Brides of Christ,’ and he of course is now in that Christ position.

Don’t want to go into details about some of the others as I feel sorry for them.

  So this so-called true family demonstrates clearly that there is no difference between blessed children and any others. Rev. Moon said as much in Korea when he was talking about Sammy Park, his illegitimate son. He said, ‘The sons from the concubine are better because there is more passion involved in their conception.’ So much for the value of the blessing.   

(Of course Mrs Moon blames the bad behavior of her adult, absolute ruler children on the poor church members, as though they could do anything to control it.)  

So now lets look at the practical results of all the members’ sacrifice and offerings:   This Parc One court case (the conflict that began between Kook Jin and Hyun Jin) resulted in at least 700 million dollars of church money going to lawyers and outside companies. This is at a time when Japanese church members were being bled dry; many could not even afford to go to the dentist. (They were commonly referred to as ‘the toothless ones’ in Japan.)  

Cheongpyeong – you couldn’t make it up – they were selling apartments in the spirit world! People have to be completely away with the fairies to buy into that. Mrs Hyo Nam Kim (Dae Mo Nim or Hoon Mo Nim) after being denounced as a fraud, walked away with assets worth more than 230 million dollars (including one of the top golf courses in South Korea), so her spiritual real estate business must have been doing very well. It’s as crazy as charging money so that your ancestors can attend workshops with the spirit of Heung Jin, or paying thirty dollars for two bottles of Danjobi shampoo to get evil spirits out of your hair. (This all of course also being done with the consent of Rev Moon.)

Mrs Kim was supposedly channeling Dae Mo Nim, the mother of Hak Ja Han, which was actually a strange choice because Dae Mo Nim and another woman had spent two years in jail for beating a mentally ill youth to death in one of these frenzied ansu sessions (where they beat bad spirits out of people).

That whole Cheongpyeong providence is merely old Korean shamanism, and just because people have spiritual experiences there doesn’t validate what is going on. Something many members don’t realize is that God works to educate and reach people regardless of what religion they are following.  

Rev. Moon often praised Korean culture but Korea was a slave society for most of its history. Although the number of slaves had declined during the nineteenth century the institution was not legally banned until 1894, and the system survived in practice until the 1920s. At least one third of the population were slaves in the past, and the children of slaves automatically belonged to their masters – with most wealthy men keeping concubines. The Koreans always had that tradition of the Yangban, or aristocrats, being served by everybody else, even having a caste of sex slaves for that purpose.  

Another tradition was idol worship and shamanism. All this drumming and beating at Cheongpyeong is actually for drawing spirits into people, not driving them out. The disgusting business of putting Moon’s semen and blood into the holy wine is more shamanism. Shamans believe if you can get someone to imbibe your bodily fluids they will come under your control. By the way, Rev Moon’s children used to refer to Mrs Kim and her people as ‘the witches of Cheongpyeong.’ To put this in perspective there are still over 300,000 shamans or ‘mudangs’ plying their trade in Korea.   

Conferences. After working on some of them I was shown very clearly that all those big science, arts and other conferences actually had no purpose other than glorifying Rev Moon. He wasn’t at all interested in any results from those meetings, only in how many famous people attended.

  About 500 million dollars is donated each year by the Japanese church, but where does it all go? What great world-changing projects do you see it used for? Of what use are all these glorious palaces? The one at Cheongpyeong cost over a thousand million dollars. Just think what good could have been done in the world with such funds. This particular palace is now adorned with giant statues of Hak Ja Han with Jesus kneeling before her and a much diminished figure of Sun Myung Moon in obedient attendance. She has effectively created a new religion centered on herself by changing the basic teachings and proclaiming herself as the Only Begotten Daughter of God, the wife of God, the mother of God and God himself/herself. (What kind of mental gymnastics the present members are doing to believe this utter nonsense is beyond me.) 

 I know each national church lives in its own little bubble, in effect creating its own version of the Unification society and cherry picking which headquarters’ directions to implement. Each country also seems to hold onto its own view of the ‘messiah,’ effectively editing out anything that does not conform to this ideal. However, with the advent of the Internet this can thankfully no longer be the case.

It is the very core of the Unification Church that needs to be examined. The whole church has been built on lies. Even Rev Moon’s life story is full of falsehoods. Remember that picture of him carrying the man on his back; he let it be known for years that it was him before finally admitting it wasn’t.

The stories about Heungnam – I heard a testimony from one of those early disciples where she went to visit him and found him drinking tea in a nearby village! Chung-hwa Pak had been an officer in the military and was put in charge of the prisoners. He designated which tasks the prisoners should do. He was able to give Moon time off so they could talk together about his beliefs. Moon was not always being worked to death as he later stated. 

He said he graduated in electrical engineering at Waseda University in Tokyo, but he actually only attended night classes at a technical high school. 

The Church made out that Moon was arrested in North Korea for preaching against communism, but the charges were really for bigamy and adultery. Chong-hwa Kim, the married woman involved, was also jailed. His anti-communist stance came much later.  

The story about him meeting Jesus on the mountainside is also untrue. It was Seong-do Kim who first told people she’d had these Easter revelations, then Baek-moon Kim claimed them as his, and finally Rev Moon – whose lies gave him away as Easter did not fall on the date he gave for that year. In his most recent account of that meeting he calls Jesus a bastard, and originally taught that Jesus should have had sex with his mother to restore the fall. He also claimed to have met and talked with Buddha, but until his first visit to India he thought Buddha was Chinese.   

The Tragedy of the Six Marys. This book described the pikareum, or womb-cleansing, ceremonies conducted during the early years of the Unification Church. For years we were told it was untrue, but before the book came out in Japan they started giving lectures explaining the providential reasons why Moon had to have sex not only with the Six Marys, but also with all the wives of the 36, 72 and even the 124 couples. Some of the members listening to those lectures left the church afterwards so they stopped giving them, but they started them again in Korea from what I heard.

The Israel Monastery was a pikareum church with Baek-moon Kim doing the womb cleansing by having sex with the female members. Another similar one was the Olive Tree Movement started by Tae-Seon Park. This had 300,000 members and the churches had special rooms to practice the pikareum rituals. So there were plenty of examples of this grotesque idea for Rev Moon to draw on.  

The holy wine ceremony is a symbolic sexual act, but for the first years of the church Rev Moon actually had sex with the female members. This is the core of the church and it is both vile and ludicrous.  

I don’t say these things lightly because I needed plenty of evidence before I believed them, but I know people in both Japan and Korea who attended lectures where this behavior was justified. In America Hyung Jin and Kook Jin have admitted such things happened. It was admitted by Young Oon Kim, Papasan Choi, Chung-Hwa Pak, President Eu’s cousin (Shin-hee Eu), Annie Choi (the mother of Sam Park), Deok-jin Kim and many others. Rev Yong also went around the world giving lectures explaining the dispensational necessity of such sex practices.

  God of Day and God of Night. There used to be a shrine to this primitive Korean god to the east of Seoul. (Moon was incorporating any kind of rubbish into his mythology by the end of his life.)

I could report on even worse activities and crimes but I think this is enough for now. The Divine Principle itself is a wonderful construct, (Hyo-won Eu being something of a genius) the only problem being that it isn’t true. So much of the numerology, four position foundations, triple objective purposes and so on, is actually meaningless. There was no sexual fall and inherited original sin and Satan are non-existent. The history parallels are extremely contrived, and although interesting, prove nothing at all. There are many more aspects of the book that don’t make sense. Some parts of course are helpful, Jesus not coming to die and so on, but none of these are original ideas, so the book certainly doesn’t prove that Moon is the Second Advent.

▲ Baek-moon Kim was born in 1917. He devised the parallels of history.

  As predicted nothing happened on Foundation Day apart from a few pointless ceremonies. The church leadership knew this would be the case, which is why they were already telling people to prepare for 2020, the 100th anniversary of Moon’s birth. Mrs Moon is emphasizing witnessing now. (Because tithes are an ongoing source of revenue.) She recently told the Japanese wives in Korea that if they don’t do well then their descendants will pay lots of indemnity. She seems to have forgotten what her husband said on October 27, 1999, ‘No more indemnity is needed. The providence of restoration is completed.’

  I personally think anyone still teaching the Divine Principle has to examine all of the above, and then ask themselves if they are just helping to propagate a gigantic destructive fraud? Thousands of people have gone through real suffering to enrich Moon and his family. Many of them had their lives ruined by being matched and married to people they could not relate to. It’s hard to believe but Moon’s church even advertised for any Korean men who wanted wives to come to one of those big blessings – just to make the numbers up, although he charged them between two and ten thousand dollars for each purchased bride. He then matched dedicated Japanese sisters to men who weren’t even church members – some of whom were unemployed drunkards or worse. (One of these wives eventually killed her Korean husband after suffering years of abuse.) Again, ask yourself whether these matchings were the action of a loving father, or an evil despot with no concern at all for the happiness and well-being of others?

  If members were matched with someone they could love and be happy with, then they were in the minority, as it was mostly a matter of luck. Remember he matched physical brothers and sisters on at least four occasions that I know of, then changed the matching when he was told about it, so it certainly wasn’t God guiding him.

  If people want God in their lives all they have to do is invite him in. Knock and the door will be opened. You don’t need to go to God through Moon or anyone else, and heaven is a place for heavenly people, so if you aren’t heavenly then no blessing, white robe or inseminated wine is going to get you in there.

And just to be clear, arrogance and avarice are not heavenly attributes.

  I believe anyone who has sincerely tried to serve God and create a better world has certainly not wasted their time, because God will remember their efforts whatever religion they followed, but the Unification Church, FFWPU, or Hak Ja Han’s new name for it ‘Heavenly Parent’s Holy Community,’ is nothing but a despotic money-making, power-seeking, destructive scam that should not be supported in any way.  

My apologies people, no jokes this time, I’m too disgusted by the whole sorry mess.  

Sloe Gin

______________________________________________

Newsweek on the many Korean messiahs of the 1970s

Hwang Gook-joo and his orgies

The Divine Principle is constructed to control members

Sun Myung Moon’s Theology of the Fall, Tamar, Jesus and Mary

Sun Myung Moon – Restoration through Incest

Shamanism is at the heart of Sun Myung Moon’s church

Japanese member, Ms. K, was forced to marry Korean man she did not like

Sun Myung Moon makes me feel ashamed to be Korean

The Fall of the House of Moon – New Republic

Sun Myung Moon’s secret love child – Mother Jones

Cult Indoctrination – and the Road to Recovery

#Sloe Gin #Divine Principle

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years

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I am Your Future, I am Your Past: Chapter 6

A Roswell New Mexico soulmates AU

Note: Writers block is a bitch but I ended up being very proud of this chapter so I hope you like it! Also I’ve been watching Pretty Little Liars and was very tempted to call Alex’s doppleganger Caleb.

Read on AO3 // Chapter 1

Alex didn’t know what reaction to give but walking out without saying anything probably wasn’t it.

That dream had him all sorts of messed up. Back to stupid teenagers who hardly talked but somehow knew everything about each other. ‘Always been you?’ What kind of stupid line was that? It wasn’t even true. Not anymore.

How did he end up back on this ride every time? Heart fluttering, stomach twisting, fingers aching to touch him. He shouldn’t be swayed by pretty words. His actions spoke enough. He didn’t want him anymore.

Alex thought about what Forrest must think. Did this curse ruin his chances with the only person he’d been interested in in years? What would he say? Should he tell him about the curse? Would Forrest even believe him?

Alex stepped out of the hospital, hardly registering the heat on his face. The sun blinded him; he raised his hand to shade his eyes. A form came into view, leaning against a van. He blinked a couple times before the green hair registered.

Forrest looked at his phone, sunglasses catching the light, reflecting a rainbow onto the ground. Alex moved toward him. He looked up and smiled, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey, how are you feeling? I was worried,” he said, completely focusing on him. Alex just shrugged.

“I’m fine. A bump on my head but nothing serious.”

“What about Guerin? You two were calling for each other. Max said you two were old friends, but I can pick out a lie when I hear it.” Alex sighed, choosing his words carefully.

“I mean. That wasn’t a lie. We were… friends back in high school.” He raised an eyebrow at the hesitation Alex had fought against and failed. “We dated for a while. We were there for each other during the hard times. But we drifted. My dad made sure of it.” He flinched at the memory.

Forrest considered his words. There was the briefest look of sympathy as he removed his sunglasses. He rested a hand on his shoulder. The touch was nice. Comforting and steady.

“I’m sorry. I know that kind of situation can mess you up. But if you still cling to each other for comfort like it seems, maybe a friendship with him is still good for you. You’ll learn to stand on your own eventually but if you’re still suffering from shared trauma, hold onto the comfort. Everyone heals differently. Besides, Michael seems like a good guy and he cares about you.”

What could he say to that? He opted for nothing and just nodded. The silence stretched as he fought the urge to run back to Michael. The mark made it hard to ignore and the memories of the dream weren’t helping. He shook his head.

“So, thanks for helping clean my prosthetic,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. Forrest smiled.

“No problem. I wasn’t sure if it was out of line, but I wanted to help. I have some other friends with prosthetics so I know how much of a pain it can be.”

“Literally and figuratively,” he joked. Forrest chuckled then jerked his thumb behind him.

“Want a ride home?” Alex nodded, moving to the passenger side of the van. He climbed in, recognizing the air freshener from a few days ago. It smelled like apples and cinnamon. He would have preferred the smell of rain or dew; but this was comforting. Sweet and simple.

As he relaxed into the seat, he looked back at the doors of the hospital. Michael stood there, watching him. He was hugging Maria but the dull ache in his chest told him something else. Forrest pulled away and he waved to the two of them. He felt… something more than a dull ache. Though he couldn’t quite identify it.

He and Forrest chatted casually about the past couple days. He said that Max was probably going to get in big trouble for the stunt. According to the sheriff, he had put another officer and two civilians in danger.

“Well what about you,” Alex asked, worried he had put his job on the line for someone like him.

“Max took the fall for all of it. I mean. Some of the blame was shifted to Michael but the sheriff doesn’t have control over him. I hope the guy only gets desk duty. I think we did the right thing.”

He watched Forrest out of the corner of his eye. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel along to whatever happened to be on the radio. He wanted to ask more questions but now didn’t seem like a good time. He wanted this thing with Forrest to be real. No business or curses. Just normal.

“Hey, do you want to grab something to eat,” he asked? Forrest glanced over at him and smiled.

“Under normal circumstances I would say yes. Sadly, I have to go back to the sheriff to do some work for her. And I know you just slept for like, two days but maybe some real rest would be good for you. You seem tired.” His body did feel heavy but would he really be able to relax?

“Yea, I guess. Another time then,” he asked, still hopeful.

“What about Saturday? We can do a proper date.” Alex couldn’t stop the smile that covered his face. His shoulders fell with the next breath. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been.

“Sounds great. I pick the food this time,” he said, laughing.

A song he recognized from his high school years came on the radio. Without asking, he reached for the dial to turn the volume up. Forrest laughed but sang along with him anyway. The desert zipped past, the cactus no more than green and brown blurs.

Alex wished he could stay in the car just a bit longer. Forrest helped him relax, or at least provided a distraction from the shitshow that was slowly becoming his life. The storefronts turned into homes and soon enough Forrest was pulling into his driveway.

He was a bit startled when he shut the van off and got out with him. Didn’t he need to meet with the sheriff? He raised an eyebrow.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure you got into your house before I left,” he said. He slipped his hands into his pockets as they walked.

“I appreciate it but if I truly have trouble getting in, I could just pick the lock,” Alex joked back, pulling the keys from his pocket.

“I should know better than to think you’ll just let me be chivalrous,” he laughed. He could feel the blush on his cheeks and turned toward the door to hide it. He pushed the key into the lock, jiggling the handle slightly so the door would open. Whoever had installed it did something wrong. He hadn’t had the chance to fix it.

“Well, thanks for the prosthetic and driving me home and… well, a lot of stuff I guess.” Alex said, smiling. Forrest inched closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it.” Alex glanced down at his mouth. It would probably be too soon to try it. He should at least wait for the first date. But he couldn’t help it. Forrest was attractive and he wanted to be closer to him.

Forrest moved first. Stepping up to him, highlighting their difference in height; he was just a bit shorter. Alex sucked in a breath as his lips just barely touched his own. He pulled back out of reflex. Forrest stopped immediately.

“Sorry I uh…” Alex couldn’t form a real explanation.

“I guess I misread the moment. No need for you to apologize.” Forrest smiled at him, then turned to leave.

“You didn’t! Misread I mean. It was just—”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. Enthusiastic consent is a big part of my belief system.” Alex felt his shoulders relax. “I’ll see you Saturday, Alex.” He nodded, smiling at him as he turned away.

Alex watched him leave, waving as he drove off. Forrest was great. He wished he had met him in high school. Maybe things would have turned out differently. He reached up to touch the mark on his chest.

Then again, maybe not.

It’s not that he wished he had never met Michael. He just thought that maybe if they hadn’t been involved before all this crap started it would be going smoother. Michael wouldn’t have to worry about how things look to Maria and he wouldn’t constantly have to experience the confusing emotions he felt for Michael.

He tossed his keys on the end table. Now that he was home and not running on adrenaline, he felt the weight of his body. Forrest was right. He was exhausted. He moved to the kitchen slowly, knowing he should eat something before just passing out again.

Had he gone to the store recently? Was there even anything to eat? He pulled the fridge open. There were leftovers from the last time he cooked but it was so long ago at this point he probably shouldn’t eat them.

He opted for the last cup of yogurt. With all the crazy stuff that had been happening, he couldn’t really blame himself for not having food. He pulled a spoon from the drawer.

Before he could sit down, a notepad on the table caught his attention. He usually leaves all his papers and mail in a pile on the counter until he could read them. He rarely left anything sitting out. A pen sat next to it.

He picked up the pad of paper slowly, looking around the room. Did one of the others write something before they left? No. He knows they didn’t. The handwriting wasn’t any he recognized. It was almost too perfect, like it had been typed out.

Alex, I’m sorry things had to happen this way. I want to help you. You’ll see me soon. Until then, be wary of the military. They’re taking orders from your father and he wants to destroy both you and Michael.

He turned the next few pages, looking for something else. There was no name. He sighed in frustration. He knew he should tell Michael but the idea of talking to him was just too much right now. He stared at the note for a while longer.

“Wait. I have cameras!” He jumped up, scolding himself for forgetting. He had a couple cameras set up throughout the house in case he needed to leave for an extended period.

He rushed to his laptop, still sitting in the front room on his coffee table. The damned thing wouldn’t turn on fast enough, even though it probably only took a few seconds.

He pulled up the software for the cameras. He would have to pull up the feed for the last two days. He tapped on the date and watched. He had several but he payed attention to the one set above his patio door, giving him a full view of the kitchen.

Starting when he first saw the four of them leave for the mission, he sped up the video so it wouldn’t take forever. He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Shadows from the outside seemed normal. He watched the spot on the table where the pad of paper had appeared.

The video stopped at midnight. Clicking on the next day, he bit at his nails, a habit he hadn’t had an issue with for years. Again, shadows passed but nothing looked weird.

He clicked the next day. Nothing.

He was on to today’s feed. Had someone really been in the house and not left a single trace of themselves? It was almost impossible. He knew stealth specialists who could go unnoticed by everyday people. But not someone trained like he was.

He slowed down the feed slightly to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Nothing but normal shadows. He was approaching the time when he walked in the door. Were they still here? He tried to listen, but the house was silent around him.

He was about ready to give up when there was a sudden flash on the camera. He checked the time. He would have just been outside with Forrest when this happened. Alex leaned in close to the monitor, hoping to see their face or any identifying marks.

But the flash vanished like it was just a glare on the lens. And the pad of paper sat in the spot he found it. He watched himself walk through his own house, not even noticing the pad of paper.

“Fuck!” He snapped his laptop closed, forgetting to be careful with it. What was he supposed to do about this? He ran a hand through his hair.

No indication of how they got in. No trace of anything except the pad of paper with a message. A message he probably could have guessed himself.

He placed his computer back on the coffee table before pushing himself up from the couch. He needed to relax. He would tell Michael, eventually. Not until he was able to talk to the soldiers who attacked them.

Weirdly, he didn’t want to eat anymore. He put the yogurt and spoon away before going straight for the bathroom. A shower would help him.

Walking in, he grabbed the folding seat from behind the door. Setting it up used to take him forever, but now it was like second nature. He supposed he could just leave it there, but he had this fear that people would judge him. Not being able to stand on your own wasn’t something to brag about.

He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. Staring at himself in the mirror, he could see the dark circles. Whatever state he had been in, it sure wasn’t restful. He looked down at the mark on his chest.

Visions came flooding back to him. Michael pressed against him. Burying his face in his chest. His voice felt like it was going hoarse from the amount of yelling he did in that dream. But whenever he made a sound it was normal. It all felt so real. And he was warm and steady and still smelled like rain.

Alex shook his head, turning away from his reflection. He sat himself on the toilet seat to remove his prosthetic. It was always a relief to take it off. The pressure wasn’t painful but removing it was noticeable. Sometimes he looked down at the missing leg. He swore he could still flex the muscles in his calves or foot that were no longer there.

He pulled his jeans off and stood slowly, using the bars he had installed. He moved around the corner of the glass. He had the bathroom converted to something completely flat so he wouldn’t have to jump over anything.

Alex turned the knob of the shower, keeping it cool due to the hundred-degree weather outside. He loved hot showers but now was not the time. At least not right away. He maneuvered himself to his chair, letting the water wash over him.

His hair stuck to his face, but he didn’t bother to move it. He tried to rub the stress out of his shoulders. Giving yourself a massage wasn’t always effective, but it was all he had. He grabbed the soap, rubbing it over his skin, noticing the dirt running off him. He blinked the water out of his eyes…

Alex opened them again only to find a group of people milling about him. He jumped up. Or at least he wanted to. His body didn’t listen to him. He looked around but no one looked him in the eye.

The women surrounded him. One dipped a piece of cloth into water and began washing him. He wanted to yank himself away from her but he remained still. Long hair fell into his face, almost down to his waist.

“Your father will be upset with you, young master. You always get so dirty when you run around with that boy.”

“He’s my only friend. I refuse to listen to my father.” The words came out of his mouth. And it sounded like him. Maybe a bit younger? And why did these women refer to him as a master?

He sat as calmly as possible as they scrubbed him down. The worry about this person’s father infiltrated his thoughts too. He knew the lord of this place was ruthless. You don’t disobey unless you want to face serious consequences. Not unlike his own father.

This friend is more important.

He was given a pair of lose fitting pants and shirt that opened down his chest. He wouldn’t be leaving the grounds again today. He paced about the small room he had been sentenced to. There was nothing left to do but wait for his father’s punishment.

He moved over to the window. There was a forest surrounding the property. If he ran… maybe he could get out.

“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat below him. He looked down only to be met with a head of curls coming toward him. He backed away to let the boy… man… through.

Michael stared back at him, a mischievous smile on his face. He tried to call his name. To ask him what this was. But a different name left his mouth.

“Samuel! What are you doing here? Haven’t you gotten us in enough trouble today,” his voice said, though there was no anger behind it. His eyes trailed over the dirt on his tanned skin. Followed it down until it dipped below the opening in his shirt.

Alex felt his mouth go dry. A familiar need settling in his stomach. Why should he deny himself this man? What was so wrong?

“Careful there Thomas. I might think you like me if you keep looking at me like that,” he teased. A blush rose to his face. He can’t believe he had so openly stared at him. Michael -- ‘Samuel’ – licked his lips and ran his gaze over his body in return. “Let’s get out of here.”

All Thomas could do was nod in return. He followed the boy out the window and they ran towards the forest.

Alex gasped as the daydream ended. He grabbed at his chest, heart pounding. He had no idea how long he’d been zoned out for. The water was still warm so it couldn’t have been long. The boy had looked exactly like Michael, maybe his hair was a bit longer but that didn’t matter.

It felt familiar, like he had seen it before. Lived it even.

He didn’t know what the vision was. He could ask Michael, but he doubted he had answers either. He could only assume that Michael was stuck in the other body, watching what played out.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to shake the images out of his head. The heat that had begun to pool in the vision, ended up transferring to him. He cursed himself. It was just because he hadn’t had sex in months. That was what he told himself.

It had been four days since Alex had walked out on him. No words. Then just got into the car with Forrest like it was nothing. Michael stared at the words but didn’t understand any of them. He was too busy worrying about all those things Alex was feeling while he was with Forrest.

He jumped at a loud thud from the other room. Maria had been hanging around, reading all the information Isabel would give her access to. The Evans’ house may as well have been a war zone.

“I told you DeLuca, some things you just shouldn’t know!” Michael sighed at the bickering. He thought it had been getting better but that theory was disproved with every passing second.

“How the hell am I supposed to help if I can’t know everything,” she yelled back.

“Because there’s a good reason we don’t let outsiders in!” Michael stood to break them up. He moved to the door, watching as Isabel held the book out of reach of Maria, who wasn’t as tall as her.

“Seriously Iz. How childish are you? Give me the book.” He reached his hand out and Isabel huffed, making a show of handing it to him. He looked over the title. It was some of the recounts of previous incarnations.

Specifically, the only one that held any information about the relationships between the couples. Not that there was much here, but Maria had been very interested in his relationships recently. Especially his past with Alex.

Once Isabel left the room, Maria turned toward him, arms crossed.

“Give it over, Michael.” He sighed.

“Look Maria, knowing too much puts you in danger. I can’t do that to you,” he said. She said she was looking for spells or something to try and break the curse. But it was put on them by the Gods. They were pretty good about keeping loopholes closed.

“That really isn’t your decision to make. We’re talking about the two people I love the most in the world. You and Alex. I have to protect you,” she said, planting her feet.

It was the same argument they had everyday since he spilled the secret. She refused to listen to him. He was tired. Didn’t know what to say anymore.

“You can’t protect us. If it’s organized by the Gods then we can’t stop it. They’ll just consider you collateral damage if you get in the way. Then they’ll throw something else at us,” he tried to reason. Again.

“I’d let to see them try to get through me.” If it was a joke, he might have laughed. But she was dead serious.

“Maria…” he warned.

“No. You are not going to tell me I have to sit on the sidelines and watch you get hurt.” He felt the anger building. He needed to make her understand.

“If you got hurt…” he started calmly, but it was as far as he got.

“Then so be it! If you’re going to protect Alex then I’m going to protect you!” Michael snapped.

“Listen to me, damnit! You can’t do anything! Nothing! Alex and I are stuck with this until we can overcome it. You will die Maria. You can’t stop it.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Why you and Alex,” she demanded?

“Because that’s what fate decided!” he gave an over-exaggerated shrug.

“Fate? Oh, come on Michael, you never believed in that stuff,” she said, half laughing.

“Well for him I do,” he snapped at her.

The silence was awkward in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. She looked away from his face, to the book in his hand. Michael’s knuckles were white from gripping it so hard.

“Everything I’ve read… seems to indicate the couples were involved with each other,” she said softly. “Literally drawn together by forces outside of their control. Because they belong together.” He watched a tear slip down her face. He took a step toward her, but she just took one back.

His heart broke as he watched her. He knew what she was thinking but he didn’t have any way to dispute her. That had been the trend for hundreds of years. But he loved Maria. Seeing her hurt made him want to cry with her.

“Maria. This in no way lessens my love for you,” he said, meaning every word. She looked up at him again.

“Don’t lie to me, Guerin. Everything changed as soon as Alex came back, didn’t it?” He opened his mouth to disagree. Nothing came out so he shut it again. Maria nodded in confirmation, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Even if your feelings for me haven’t lessened… they’re completely overshadowed by Alex, right?”

“I’m so sorry, Maria. You deserve so much but I just can’t give it to you,” he said, voice cracking. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

“I need some time. But I will be back. I will not let you two do this alone.” With that she spun and hurried out of the room. Michael wanted to run after her, but he knew this was for the best. It would be stupid of him to think she would give up on looking for a way to break the curse. But at least everything was out in the open.

Isabel walked back in and shook her head at him. He turned away from her to clean up all the books they had pulled out.

“I may not like her, but you could have been a bit nicer about it.” He shot a glare at her.

“It just came out. I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said defensively.

Isabel sighed and began to pick up various books and papers that were scattered around. They worked in silence, though he knew she was just thinking of a way to lecture him about something.

He wanted to call Alex. They still needed to find out who stole the original scrolls. With everything else that happened, the idea got pushed to a back burner. He hadn’t talked to him since he walked out.

“You need to talk to Alex. We need his help locating those scrolls. Mom and Dad are going to come back and we’re going to have to tell them someone broke into the house.” Michael raised an eyebrow at her.

“What, no ‘I told you so’ lecture?”

“Oh, see I figured that was implied. But if you really want it…” she said sarcastically.

Michael shook his head and turned away from her. Whatever his life has become, it was not what he was expecting. He never thought he’d see Alex again. He never thought the mark would show up.

He picked up a leather wrapped journal and thumbed through it. It was supposed to be from one of the first incarnations after the original tragedy. It didn’t hold anything significant. It was more like a love letter to their partner. He rolled his neck, letting it crack in an effort to relax…

He suddenly stared at wooden ceilings. Moonlight colored the room in blues except for a small area in the corner. It held a candle and a girl sat at a desk. He tried to ask who she was but no words came out. But then she turned.

“What have I told you about reading my things?” He was in awe. Alex stood in front of him, but he was different. Long hair was tied back and he looked much slimmer. He felt himself grin.

“What’s in here that you don’t want me to see? Thought we were best friends.” He shook the journal he was holding, teasing him. The other boy jumped for it, pressing his hand against his chest. His heart rate sped up as Alex grabbed the journal from him. He shook his head before turning away.

Michael felt like a passenger just watching the scene play out. But he felt everything. There was confusion and fear. Confusion about his feelings for the man in front of him. Fear about getting caught together. He grabbed Alex’s arm, pulling him back.

“Thomas. Why do you still fight this?” The man blushed and looked away. He raised a hand to rest on his cheek, forcing him to hold eye contact.

“We can’t. My father already hates that we spend so much time together. I can handle the beatings. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“If this is wrong, why is your heart racing?” Thomas’ eyes glanced down. He leaned in slowly, still giving him the chance to back away, though he somehow knew he wouldn’t.

Their lips met gently, both hesitant. It was the first time he had ever felt like this. So consumed by another person. He held onto his face with both hands, kissing him again. The Alex look-a-like threaded his fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.

Sighs escaped both of their lips. He pressed against him with his whole body, forcing Alex backwards until he was against the wall. Alex moved his hands over his shoulders and chest, fingers splayed out to feel as much of him as possible.

Kissing him came as naturally as breathing. Lips slipping over each other, looking for any way to get closer. He rolled his hips, earning a moan from Thomas.

“Samuel,” the name got lost as he kissed him again.

Samuel and Thomas? Who were these people? Michael wanted to look away, but he was part of it. This was so intimate he wanted to blush himself. He probably was.

The two boys jumped apart as they heard boots on the wood outside the small room. A panicked look crossed Thomas’ face. Samuel grabbed him one last time, crushing a kiss to his lips. Then he rushed to the window, jumping out before anyone knew he was there.

“Michael!” He jerked out of whatever trance he had been in, dropping the book he was holding. Isabel looked at him as though he had grown a second head.

“What happened,” he asked?

“I was hoping you could tell me that. You’ve just been standing there for a solid minute. I called your name about a hundred times.” He looked around. There was no room with a candle and a desk. It was modern couches and bookcases. The ugly lamps were still sitting on the end tables.

He grabbed the book from where it dropped, opening it to a random page. He read a few lines, nearly dropping the book again.

We’ve crossed the line, Samuel and I. We’ve fallen in love. If we get caught, I don’t know what will happen. But I, Thomas Manes, WILL protect him.

He looked up at Isabel. She raised her eyebrows, opening her arms, waiting for the information.

“Spit it out Michael! What the hell just happened?”

“I think I just had a vision. I think I saw the couple in this journal. But it doesn’t make sense,” he said flipping through the pages, skimming for anything related to the curse. “There’s nothing in here about the curse. There were no marks on either person’s chest. And they were both guys. Every reincarnation has been a guy girl pair, right? Alex and I are the odd ones out.”

He reached into his pocket, if he had a vision, then Alex must have had it too. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Alex’s name. He pressed the call button. It rang a few times but then went to voicemail. He cursed and hung up, then called again. Voicemail.

“Where the hell is he,” he wondered aloud. It went to voicemail third time. He was ready to speed over to his house when he finally picked up.

“Jesus Christ Michael, what do you need?” He was annoyed but he didn’t care. This was important.

“Where are you? This is important,” he said.

“I’m out. What is it?” The annoyed voice went away but he was obviously not in the mood for small talk. He opened his mouth to speak but he heard another voice.

“Hey Alex, you ready to go? We’re up.” He recognized the voice. It couldn’t be…

“Yea, Forrest. I’ll be right there. So, what did you want to tell me,” he asked? Michael froze, not knowing what to say anymore.

“Ya know... Never mind. Just call me when you’re free.” He hung up before Alex could respond. Isabel shook her head and left the room. Who was she to judge? Alex could hang out with whoever he wanted to, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

This also meant he probably didn’t experience the same vision he did. Better not to overwhelm him while he was on a date. Michael clenched his fists.

Were they even on a date? That was the only explanation his brain was allowing, and it hurt. His chest ached. He wanted to talk about the journal and the vision. But Alex didn’t want to spend time with him anymore. Otherwise he would have stayed to hear him out when they were at the hospital.

He hurt the two people he loved the most in the world and now he was alone.

Jesse Manes questioned each of the soldiers, and they all said the same thing. One moment they were firing on the traitor and the next they were tied up in a group. He slammed his fist against the wooden wall, hearing it crack.

“Master Sargent. Are you alright?” A woman named Jenna stuck her head in the room. A former soldier. He hadn’t decided how she was going to help him yet, but better to have her trust early.

“Yes. Thank you, deputy Cameron. There are just some frustrations. They went after my son after all,” he said, wanting to gag at the thought of that disgrace. She nodded sympathetically.

“We’re doing everything in our power to get answers.” He nodded as she left the room. Something kept getting in his way. First, he couldn’t find all the documents in the house, and now his assassination attempt had been interrupted.

Whatever or whoever what getting in his way, they would come to regret it. The curse was ending the way it should have a long time ago.

#malex #malex fanfiction #soulmates au #malex soulmate au #roswell new mexico fic #multichapter fic #alex manes #michael guerin #michael guerin/alex manes

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quarterfromcanon · 4 years

Note

1-4. For the asks

Thank you so much for sending these! <3

Once I started to answer them, I realized there were comparatively few recent television shows appearing on the list. I seemed to keep gravitating toward older ones I remembered from years ago. I took a handful of days to mull it over in case I was forgetting something, but nothing else comes to mind. Maybe my ongoing list of Shows to Watch During Quarantine will turn up some fresh results but, for now, it looks like I’ll be taking a little trip down memory lane. :)

This turned out to be a pretty long and rambly post, so I’ll stow it under the cut!

Top 5 TV Shows

1. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend - I can’t imagine this surprises anyone who has been following this blog for the past two years or so. It brought fellow fans into my life, got me back into writing fic, and prompted countless tags of meta. It’s the show my mind drifts to on a weekly basis (if not daily) even a full year after the finale. Just when it seemed I’d reached an age where that level of intense fandom involvement and character attachment might be fading, it proved that quite the opposite was true. I’m very thankful to the series for that, and for the people whose paths have crossed mine as a result.

2. Schitt’s Creek - This is my #1 Feel Good show and, though I’ve been dodging spoilers for the final season until it gets uploaded to Netflix, I get the impression that it will remain in that top spot. The world feels softer and more hopeful there. It’s healing for my soul. I’m going to have a dreadfully difficult time saying goodbye, but I’m glad there are six season to revisit whenever I want.

3. Stranger Things - The theme song alone sends such a rush of excitement through me. I love the aesthetic and the atmosphere. I sometimes have mixed feelings about the romances but the FRIENDSHIPS sure do have a direct line to my heartstrings. I think the way they’ve combined media influences into their own story is really neat. You get something that’s new and engaging, but you can also go back and enjoy the sources of inspiration with fresh appreciation.

4. Joan of Arcadia - I can’t help it. The snark, the jackets, the early 2000s songs, the performances -- the nostalgia for this show is so strong. It’s not without its problems, but it did have some really good things to offer as well. I remember an episode that was one of my earliest introductions to the concept of a trigger, and the effect it could have on a person if exposed to one of theirs. The series dealt a lot with grief and the many forms it can take (I STILL can’t hear Fiona Apple’s cover of “Across the Universe” without getting misty-eyed). I’m also surprised, looking back, at the somewhat positive way I recall them discussing homosexuality on the several occasions that it came up in the show. Not to give too much credit since I don’t think there were recurring canonically LGBTQIA+ characters but, for a kid who spent most days around closed-minded people of a certain religious leaning, it was meaningful along my individual journey. I’d like to provide the several examples that are most vivid in my memory:

A. A girl with short hair, short nails, little to no makeup, and a bulky leather jacket is generally assumed to be a lesbian by the bullies at school. The show directly confronts the fact that “gay” should not be used an insult, that identity should not be assumed without the person telling you so, AND makes sure that the character in question never pushes back by saying harmful things about lesbians despite not actually being one herself.

B. A boy who is questioning is able to confide in his big brother and have a fairly calm conversation about it; the awkwardness mostly comes from neither of them being accustomed to openly discussing emotions, not from the possibility of a negative response regarding the subject matter.

C. Another character is accidentally discovered to be gay (he only appears in the one episode, if my memory serves), and some of the leads have the opportunity to share that for personal gain. However, even though he is a popular jock who is a bit of a jerk in the hallways, the show makes it clear that the right choice is still to leave the telling of that information up to him and him alone.

Like I mentioned, it can’t be said that representation was in abundance here - for instance, I don’t believe anything other than straight or gay was presented as a possibility - but any accepting acknowledgement in a faith-centric series was something for me to hold on to in my still-deeply-closeted days. As a final Very Important personal side note, this show brought Judith Montgomery into my life (pictured below on the left), and that feels like it merits a shoutout for being what I consider a rather significant marker in my awakening.

THE OVERWHELMING CRUSH I HAD - and still have - is one for the books.

5. Pushing Daisies - This is another show with an aesthetic I adore. The series has such a fun, whimsical energy. The crime-solving! The clothes! The cast! There's a lot to love. It’s the kind of world I wish I could visit... well, minus the evidently rampant murder rate.

Top 5 Overrated TV Shows

1. Once Upon A Time - *deep sigh* I tried to stick with it for so long. I think I’ve seen five out of the seven seasons in their entirety. It just felt like everything got mired down by excessive (and increasingly convoluted) subplots, often for the purpose of tossing in as many fairytale and/or Disney characters as possible. Plus, quite honestly, there was too much emphasis on romantic love. For a show whose first season involved a curse being broken by [potential spoiler, I suppose] a mother kissing her son’s forehead, I ultimately found myself up to my ears in romantic ships. It reached such a stifling extent that, if you were not particularly attached to those pairings, there wasn’t a whole lot else to entice further viewing.

2. Under the Dome - I don’t know for certain what the general public opinion of this series was, but it felt like the commercials always featured alleged rave reviews, so I figured I could include it here. I was vaguely interested in Season 1, mainly as a fan of Rachelle Lefevre’s work. Season 2 pulled me in with the introduction of a new townsperson and I threw WAY too much of my heart into that attachment, which backfired when that character was killed. I made quite the spectacle of my heartbreak, so much so that my family doesn’t let me mention this show around them anymore. :P Season 3 was, to phrase it delicately, not a great time. The series did introduce me to a few new-to-me actors, though, so that was cool.

3. Bates Motel - Even the incentive of learning that the two characters I liked most share a lot of screen time later in the series hasn’t been enough to call me back to this one. I don’t know if it was the pacing that put me off or what, but the prospect of finishing the remaining seasons feels so daunting. There are evidently five seasons in total and I believe I’ve only seen two of them thus far. I will probably muddle through it someday just to see how it goes, but the fact that I am so disinclined to prioritize it made this feel like a fair addition to the list.

4. Lost - My interest in this series unfortunately waned right before fervent fandom spiked. I don’t have any specific complaints that come to mind about what I saw; I just sort of drifted and then stayed away. Teachers I liked and peers I spent time with were starting to latch on to the show and I couldn’t find even the slightest inclination to give it a second try. However, did I still dutifully read all the latest installments in my friend’s Sawyer Ford and Kate Austen fanfiction when she passed me handwritten copies at lunch? Sure. I was glad it made her happy, even if I was no longer a viewer.

5. Hemlock Grove - I say this as someone who still mourns the fates of some characters in this show, so I wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the series stopped being able to make me feel anything. I’m just of the opinion that, in some ways, it might’ve been better off stopping at one season. That’s where the book it was based on ends, and things just didn’t feel as cohesive after that. Season 3 especially was - borrowing from my above review of Under the Dome - not a great time. That being said, there are also certain elements from the book that I could’ve done without in the Season 1 adaptation but... well... here we are.

Top 5 Underrated TV Shows

1. Picnic at Hanging Rock - Another one that won’t surprise followers of this blog. I have rhapsodized about it quite frequently since I found it a little over a month ago. It’s a period piece mystery miniseries with LGBTQIA+ representation, gorgeous costumes, and Samara Weaving. This felt specifically designed to wedge its way into my heart, and I’m quite content with the space it now occupies.

2. Dark - I’m so intrigued by the overlapping timelines with all of the morally gray characters. It’s possible to like one of these people in the timeline where they’re young but dislike them as adults, or vice versa. It also makes me think of Rant by Chuck Palahniuk a little tiny bit with the idea that time travel, specifically tampering with your own timeline, might make you physically and behaviorally unrecognizable to yourself. And the SONG CHOICES! I have gotten some solid new music selections from this series.

3. Sense8 - I still need to watch the finale. I really do. But I knew it would make me sad so I’ve avoided it for... two years now? Pretty close, I think. The concept is fascinating and the cast is so strong. Plus the cinematography! They came up with some of the coolest ways to depict the link these characters share and what it’s like when they connect over distance. The planning and careful editing it all must’ve taken... I remain in awe.

4. Penny Dreadful - There were definitely some story/writing choices I didn’t particularly like along the way, but I did get engrossed in the creepy goodness and the performances -- Eva Green’s Vanessa Ives most of all. It left me wishing for more period piece “monster mash” stories, because having all those classic characters in one place was a blast. It also helped me understand why Helen McCrory was once slated to play Bellatrix Lestrange because she can be terrifying. Oh and Sarah Greene in her Wild West outfits? Perdita Weeks with short red hair in fencing garb, and later in all leather with boots and a long jacket? I WAS NOT PREPARED AND I HAVE STILL NOT RECOVERED. I NEVER WILL.

5. Wonderfalls - There’s some cringe-inducing handling of certain representation in the series, but I have such a weak spot for quippy outcasts who become reluctant chosen ones (Joan Girardi in Joan of Arcadia, Wynonna Earp, Jaye Tyler in this series, et cetera). I also really love the sibling dynamics here. They bicker, tease one another, help each other out of trouble, and have rare but genuine heart-to-hearts. Caroline, Lee, and Katie all did such a great job blending their characters’ adult personalities with certain childhood attributes that rise to the surface in the presence of family.

Top 5 Movies

1. Addams Family Values - I’ve rewatched this movie at least once annually since I found it in Media Play at age 13. Usually, I’ll play it around Halloween or, at the latest, Thanksgiving. It’s mouth-along-with-every-line level ingrained in my memory. I find myself leaning forward in my seat before favorite parts because I’m still that excited to relive them. Why this movie, and why this devotion to such a degree? It’s hard to explain, even to myself. I can tell you, however, that I hold up every other portrayal of the Addams characters to the versions found in this. Everybody in the cast just feels that perfect for their part.

2. Clue - I was already pretty fond of this movie to begin with, but then my sister got older and claimed it as a favorite of her own, so now she just supplies me with further excuses to watch it repeatedly. It’s also been a bonding piece of media with a couple of close friends and such through the years. It’s incredible to think not everyone in it was the first choice for their roles; what everybody brings to the table is so top-notch that I wouldn’t have it any other way. I also LOVE knowing that it originally went to theaters with different endings depending on which showing you attended. I gather people weren’t terribly thrilled with the stunt back then, but I kinda think some moviegoers would be into that approach these days? Then again, one hit that tried something different tends to start a fad, so maybe I’d end up regretting the suggestion after a while. :P

3. The Craft - This. Movie. Yes, Act III is a major bummer even though I know it’s coming, and I’ll always wish it ended differently. Even so. This. Movie. I tend to headcanon mostly for shows and sometimes books, but The Craft is a beloved exception. I love so much about it: the magic, the music, the clothes, the settings, the dynamics within the friend group, the performances. I had no idea when I first got the DVD at 17 that it would become such a part of my life, but I’m so glad it found its way to me.

4. Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion - The soundtrack is a glorious ’80s and ’90s treat for my ears. The colorful costumes are perfectly suited to the main characters’ version of the world. There are so many great lines and it feels like everyone is having a lot of fun in their roles. I LOVE HEATHER MOONEY SO MUCH. She’s my awful, scathingly sarcastic, little grungy grump and she fills my heart with joy.

5. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King - I was pretty sure at least one of the three had to appear on here. I think, if I were to tally them all up, The Return of the King features most of my favorite moments, so it wins the spot. “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”, ‘Edge of Night,’ Éowyn in battle, The Army of the Dead, ‘Into the West’... I end up crying during the end credits every time. So, yeah, ultimately, I would choose the third part of the trilogy if I could only watch one.

Phew, that’s it! All the questions answered, all the shows and movies listed! Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read it all, and thanks again to @monaiargancoconutsoy for sending in the prompts! <3

#About Me #Answered Asks

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sirjustice219-blog · 4 years

Text

Some basic concepts

Kebi bursting like the last song man in the link below, what can u tell me and i have eaten roasted maize which has been rolled on Minaj and Robinson pussy and u, u aint. U cant tell me nothing, u silly, sick and stupid.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iqAkWhlnK4

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=rasta+got+soul

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E58qLXBfLrs

Whoyo mitoto mikubwa bado anapatiwa uji, kate Linzo, acha bro, or nipiss talk, in that he will tell ya, u playing with his manhood.

Minaj, peace talk Girl, hurl or direct it in my mouth, harm to many but to many as well who long to be with ya, the same cant be extended or done to them as much as Robinson offering me the same opporchunde as opportunity as u did girl.

When monitoring ya wife infidelity as every1 forced to put the bracelet 4 identification as explained below, it even shows who is next to ya wife as the distance between 2 bracelets wearers to signal u and stop the same.

Russia as well a poor country but they are few as can sell hay to make gadgets and rye as well as wheat to other nations. So doing what China and Nigeria is doing wanting to bring their own here, as monitor people who love big booty women like their women and tolerate ya while China on the other hand doing the reverse to bring a conflict of interest here if u never know. Being pro-Russia or Pro-china as groups are now formed but its ending out of the artificial food and medication which they knew not so wanted to send their people to pluck illegally but as per now has their group people who just pluck a few then they make much like seldom apple and Eurphobia or water hyacinth to make soaps, disinfectant and drugs with. It as well eliminates the drone doing the same at night issue where many tourists who got the bearing radar gets to places where such named above grows and waits until midnight to see if its starless dark to facilitate the above. Another reasons 4 many whites visiting many places while u, u think is out of leisure but the above. They are frustrated to stay afloat or maintain their living status dude. The rich also cry cemented dude!!!!

California when internet is finished as other nations got theirs and Carli4nia finished but they got Eurphobia and tamarind which can be made artificially, so aint a hoot to other states wanting to make product out of the above as they only buy few and make much out of it or use drone to steal as the above.

The Doctor who performs DNA test as well can go to hell as the man removed and the woman who got in released then the doctor lands in hell fire, if he cheats the child was mans child or not or the vice versa results. So physicians take heed dude. King David went to hell, rather be bad but repent but don't be engaged in blasphemy as people inquire the same out of ya to ascertain that u know in that if u die u get to hell. Never tell me u know the bible as can land ya in hell faster. The above lands ya not in hell fire but hell not heaven b4 sent again to earth as incarnation if u cant stand 4 long hours as in heaven is singing everyday.

Wacha shule, leave school, not to burden ya parents as Government wants to use u to get money out of the gadgets u use in school that u buy like chemicals and books telling u r the next future yet when u finish school they reduce ya marks to just make u be their to find ya self in business which if that cash spent on school u saved and channeled in business early u could be rich. School is as well their to make you poor later and Govt champion big families to set a side 4 early killing to facilitate better ground 4 buying exhumed caskets and formalin which they just make. Curse in the bible if u never know laid down in caskets. Just get to grade/class 8 and leave if ya parents poor or struggling, don't bother people with wanting good life from them, if u will be a doctor u will be 1 4 ya father, with me i will not follow ya to help me period dude. Make ya kid stay away from me, they r Jamaica blood and wanted to be that way, good in that position has proven as of bad character when made rich.

Now they want to stop Covid cause aint of profit as they wanted or targeted with health benefit given to working class people as they admit ya in posh hospitals to get much from ya yet medication is grown ginger which many have know who got those benefits so take the same when thinking they have developed such symptoms. That’s the reason 4 disgust and being exhausted of many govt officers as they had big with that plan to reap huge big time bro.

When a country has known how to make her own gadgets, let the president launch such to find their way into the local markets at a half price of the imported ones as their is no shipping cost attached to it so the same must be omitted. Let them put such gadgets on plan like hire-purchase or on credit so every 1 can afford even 4 along time and remove counterfeit products out of the above reason to grow economy fast as counterfeit derail economic growth. And on every 1 repayment let like 5-7 % be bad debt in that it caters 4 those people who failed to repay their taken gadget either died or in jail and when end year results as profit release the total bad debts % of the total profit show to the public to tell them whether it can pay all the bad debts or not or after paying all bad debt who much is remaining 4 the next physical year.

When the above is feasible it means you can own whatever u like synonymous with what is called developed nation and the reason why its said living in such nations cheap which many refute or wonder why wanting explanations which are the above. With that u don't give a hoot in politics as also their dubious ways to illicit wealth block that can make u furious when u know of their lifestyle which many have desired so only want to behave like knowing the dignitaries or wanting to join them to achieve the same lifestyle dude

Sells job matters not where u come from, whether from the ghetto or suburbs or ya clothing provided u r of respect. Its another scrap metal collection job where at the end of the day what u bring dictate ya life and mostly left 4 poor people.

Create a/c for gay group or women of more than 30 thousand people and provide me with the a/c 4, maybe like 10 such group and prior show me all the members like from the banks email address and when u r on my neck, wanting me like a woman cause thinking am live good i do the reverse by notifying the bank to wire transfer that cash into the above named a/c, so what was thought of me previously atrophies and u leave me all alone as now u got the cash like disturbing me with kids early who u can take care off and ever wanting my food never giving me rest as somehow destroys my brain or forced love with gay or women which i cant stand lest i break out a fight which now out of my age i see no need b4 them again repeat the same shit everyday out of the soft character above cause can lead to me hurting another, like hurling stone, which now pleaseth me not.

Our grave to be monitored by wi-fi drones to avoid exhumation explained below and even tea, coffee or cocoa plantations or just cash-crop plantations of many nations as well as food crop plantation, where such are placed on computer 4 the public to witness 4 assertion that their aint corruption. Where each drone sphere is marked on the computer or just that drone like drone no 1, 2 or 3 like the you-tube window blow, so u view which sphere u click the drone no as much as rich fishing grounds or in Kenya the spring water at bar kalare Gem East Constituency that they tame people with during war or in prison as in marriages. As the drone can come from up as explained below due to the fact that that place at night is dark like a 1000 starless midnight to facilitate the above scooping of water b4 being ferried to other spheres but the beauty as it reduces the cash the USA government got from the same as her client nations almost 70% resorting to the above at night and even selling to other spheres to put in pocket the cash USA pocketed previously to create conflict of interest. Wi-Fi drones with night vision can monitor such places to eliminate the vices named above.

The detective can place such drone named above in above door steps of people who get out at night to do crime by monitoring them, they can even got a microphone gadget 4 the detective to talk to ya as police can use such to get to places to warn people as if a pub is open in early hours not for such to warn such dude. The above bars negro motives of wanting to be here and transportation of light machines parts like phones/computer parts and its accessories to be sold minus export Levi at the port of entry and even late night inside the big drone sex with payed prostitutes or taking ya to a bush nearby or to the rich a speedboat to be secrecy

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lostsummerdayz · 4 years

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Death Note One-Shot Chapter Review

“AH! SHINIGAMI!” But in 2020!

By: Nay Holland

Death Note started off as a manga and anime series that joined others in its ilk during the 2000s renaissance. This was the time period that brought us many herald classics such as Naruto, Bleach, One Piece, Inuyasha, Full Metal Alchemist, and Gurren Lagann. I can spend the entire time naming at least ten other series that would either go on to have devoted fans over a decade later or continue in some form. Of course Naruto lives on through Boruto, rumors of a Bleach revival are on the way, and One Piece is, well, never ending at this point.

However, among the “Roaring 00s” of anime, Death Note always stood out to me. While I was invested in Naruto since middle school, I hadn’t touched Death Note until my high school years. During this time, the series was still popular, yet it always seemed overshadowed by the other bigger names. Despite this, it remains a huge hit in Japan with several live action movies, a prequel light novel, several dramas, and a TV series.

Of course, there was also the Netflix Original film which was an attempt to “Americanize” the series, for whatever reason. Back in 2017 it was a talking point, mostly how it didn’t live up to the source material presented. Nowadays, no one really talks about it and it is probably for the best.

While Death Note is considered a cult classic in both the East and the West, it is no surprise that content is still being created to this day. The surprise factor stems from the unexpectant delivery of said content. On February 3rd 2020, the creators behind Death Note, author Tsugumi Ohba and artist Takeshi Obata, revisited the world that Kira left behind in a one-shot published by Viz Media.

While you don’t need to read the original manga to read the one-shot, the one-shot will assume you know the original source as many existing characters, themes, and events from the original manga are all featured within the chapter. That said, it will greatly enhance the experience if you know the source material. Past this point there will be spoilers on the original manga and the one-shot chapter as I’ll be referring to both.

This isn’t the first “one-shot” within the Death Note universe. The first official one-shot dates as far back as 2008, two years after the original series was completed. Set three years after Kira’s death, this one-shot focused on a new “Kira.” This “Kira” has access to the Death Note via a shinigami (who wasn’t Ryuk) and used it to murder those who had a low life expectancy. However, the new “L,” formerly known as Near, quickly shuts his antics down. The new “Kira” then uses the Death Note to kill himself and the shinigami retrieve the book.

Before we can discuss the latest one-shot, we first have to discuss Takeshi Obata’s art exhibit that was held in the Summer of 2019; Never Complete.

Never Complete was an art exhibit celebrating Obata’s thirty-years as a manga artist. Within the exhibit, many of his previous works from Hikaru no Go, Bakuman, Death Note, and the latest ongoing series, Platinum End were all on display.

Bonus content which included first drafts of illustrations, were also featured. Among the bonus content, the most peculiar one was a storyboard draft of the 87-page one-shot. The storyboard draft can be seen and read in almost its entirety on the official Shonen Jump Plus website. Six months later, we have an official release in both Japanese and English. The official English translation can be viewed here.

Our story begins right where the previous one-shot left off. The shinigami who wasn’t Ryuk, gives Ryuk back the Death Note, claiming he was unsuccessful while also giving him an apple as an offering. Being bored of the shinigami world as well as a craving for more apples, Ryuk sets off to see who could be the successor of the Death Note. If it entails free apples, Ryuk ain’t complaining.

We then get to meet a young Minoru Tanaka, a middle schooler who is known for having the highest test grades in the region. When Ryuk introduces himself to Tanaka, the only thing Ryuk knows is that Tanaka is smart in school, comparing Minoru Tanaka to Light Yagami’s aptitude in school.

However, his actual grades are mediocre at best. This already contrasts Light who was a certified genius both in tests as well as grades. As Tanaka explains that his ability to score high on tests are dependent on his knowledge of IQ tests and quizzes, he bemoans that adults who see grades yet fail to see the bigger picture are no better.

As Tanaka holds the Death Note in his hand, all he knows is that it was once Kira’s. It is during this scene that we learn the state of Tokyo after Kira’s death, ten years later. Yagami’s legacy lives on as he is taught in schools around Tokyo. Tanaka exclaims that he was taught about him in Ethics class and in World History class, both of whom consider him to be an evil mass-murdering sociopath that placed Tokyo on the brink of destruction.

There’s just one problem with holding the single most powerful and dangerous weapon in the world. What good is a Death Note if you can’t even read its instructions?

While this wasn’t a problem for Light as he was a genius who understood fluent English and Japanese, here was a middle schooler who struggled with English. He asks Ryuk to translate the English into Japanese, just so that he can understand how to use it.

However, while not as academically bright as Light, Minoru is more logical with his approach. He understands how the Death Note was used in the past. The major difference between the past and the present are the increase in security measures to ensure a repeat of what happened doesn’t transpire again. When Ryuk asks if Minoru can use the Death Note the same way that Kira did, Minoru hesitates.

Knowing the state of Tokyo right now as well as knowing the history of Kira and the Death Note, he has no interest or intentions of using the Death Note for similar deeds. Here lies a normal child who excels at critical thinking who has the opportunity of a lifetime.

Those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. He also can’t risk the book falling into the hands of someone else who would use the book for the same reasons Kira did, or worse. So he does the one thing that he could do in this situation. He buys himself two years of time. He tells Ryuk to come back to him in two years, while asking him two critical questions.

The first question he asks is if it was possible for those who touched the notebook to still see Ryuk. This would involve the former Investigation Team and Near, who brought Kira to justice.

The second question was how far can Ryuk move around without being close to Minoru. This comes into play two years later when Minoru decides to ultimately sell the Death Note.

That’s right. He sells the Death Note.

But not just to anyone, especially not via Craigslist either.

Conveniently, the TV broadcast station is close by Tanaka’s house. With a pen and paper he tells Ryuk to write a message that will incur interest without actually having to directly contact Tanaka himself. Since the net and all of its usage can be easily tracked, using the TV to broadcast the message provides a safe approach for Tanaka to cover his trail. Rather, you can’t cover a trail you never create.

Conversely, those who had seen Ryuk from ten years ago, were able to see Ryuk on television. This introduces several key characters from the original series into the one-shot. The first is Matsuda, who is every bit as hot headed and foolishly passionate in the present as he was in the past.

The second, is L.

Not the L we know, but, the current L. Near.

Fragments of the iconic “L vs Kira” fight start to show over the next few pages as the bids for the Death Note reaches into the trillions and L continuously wondering how things are playing out. He understands that the “Auction Kira” or “A-Kira” is playing a very cautious game, but fails to see the endgame.

As the bid for the Death Note reaches record highs, it is revealed that the two nations bidding for the Death Note are none other than…

...The United States of America…

...And China….

Despite two of the largest world leaders in the hot seat bidding on the Death Note, Minoru is unphased. In the end, the USA wins the auction. At this point, Near awaits to figure out just how “A-Kira” is going to attain the money. Thinking this through, Minoru demands payment in such a way that it is almost impossible to be tracked down.

Within this time period, it is enough for Tanaka to relinquish ownership of the Death Note, forget he had it, and live a peaceful life along with millions of others in Japan. Given the circumstances and how millions will have access to such money, as well as the owner of the Death Note forgetting he had the Death Note, Near backs off, admitting defeat.

There is one fatal flaw to Tanaka’s entire plan and it was a flaw that would lead to his death.

Turns out Tanaka was so smart that not only did he outsmart the smartest human alive, but he also outsmarted the Shinigami King himself. Shortly before the Death Note was relinquished, the King ordered Ryuk to write a new rule within the Death Note. The rule being this.

With even the Shinigami King being upset that the Death Note was allowed to be sold to another, this new rule ensured that Tanaka was going to die a month from now. The president, however, chose to relinquish ownership, but declares that he has the power of Kira to herald his power over everyone else.

So, as stated in the new ruling of the Death Note, Tanaka’s name was written in Ryuk’s Death Note as soon as he received the money and the chapter ends on that note.

The first thing I want to mention is that Tanaka was too smart for his own good. Kira’s downfall was that his God complex forced him to become disillusioned. Tanaka’s downfall was the complete opposite. He felt his plan was entirely foolproof without taking into the variable of the shinigami lowballing him.

This reminded me of the time when Rem declared that she would kill Light if he ever caused the death or harm of Misa. At this point this was Light’s first interaction with another shinigami. Knowing who Rem was and the type of person she was, he was able to manipulate her to his livelihood by sacrificing herself. Tanaka never got to see the Shinigami King himself, and the King made sure of it.

Tanaka not only never met another shinigami so he could understand how they would behave, but he also never met Near---I mean L. I gotta stop calling him Near.

He never got to meet L, he never got to meet the investigation team. All of Tanaka’s actions were met through the safety of his room. This was beneficial as he was able to cover his tracks, but it proved his downfall as he followed a plan from start to finish without thinking of the variables.

The moment Tanaka relinquished ownership, his fate was sealed. Tanaka wouldn’t have known about the rule change and it wouldn’t be up to Ryuk to remind him. Ryuk is many things, but Ryuk is a shinigami of his words.

It’s because of Ryuk being a shinigami of his word that proved to be fatal to Light as well. From the beginning of Light’s reign into Kira, Ryuk promised that if Light were to ever put himself in a situation where Light would die, Ryuk would write his name in the Death Note.

Ryuk never had the chance to warn Tanaka about the rule change as he was told never to show his face again. Thus, Tanaka died oblivious to anything that he had done, unlike Light who died knowing all of the things he’d done.

The final thing I want to reflect upon is the concept of legacy. Throughout the chapter we’re told about the lasting impression Kira had on not just Japan, but the entire world. It was this legacy that spurred the interest of ownership of the Death Note to begin with. Even if the Death Note was never used, the fact that it could be used to incite fear and dominance among one’s nation and the world is enough for anyone in a position of power.

The caveat of covering your path is that no one knows your name. This was the entire point of Tanaka’s ownership of the Death Note. He wanted to get rid of it while also making a profit off of it. If all of Japan would reap the benefits of the Death Note, then it was just a bonus.

His mother wouldn’t struggle, his family wouldn’t struggle, everyone would be set for life. This one child single-handedly caused an entire economic bubble and yet his legacy would be left behind with no one knowing who he was.

If you’re a fan of the series, I highly recommend giving this a read. In fact it makes me want to revisit the series one more time. It was nice seeing how my old favorites were doing ten years later, both literally and within universe. It was also a good read that, much like the original Death Note, left a lot to think about as far as current events.

The timing of the release of this chapter, the realistic physical details of the world leaders for USA and China, and the themes shared within the chapter are non-coincidental I believe. While a Death Note is obviously fantasy, it reads itself like a parody of modern-day politics. A caricature of the lengths those in power would go to obtain a destructive instrument used for intimidation purposes.

Unfortunately, even if you do everything in your power to just live a peaceful life, in the words of Ryuk…

#death note #death note one shot #ryuk #kira #light yagami #minoru tanaka #l #near #manga #anime #review

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axiumin · 6 years

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Bad Boy | BamBam x Reader

Anonymous said: Hello! Can you do a smut High-school au with Bambam that bad boy rich popular kid in school that spends every night with a lot of different women and girls and has a jacuzzi n shit😂😂 and randomly falling in love with you and then one night you get drunk at a party at his house and you admit your feelings (which you didn’t want to cause you didn’t want to fall for a fuckboy like him) and then you become a bit needy and ask him if you two can go to his room so he locks his room and all begins;))

Hi, anon! Thank you for the request! I made this a college AU instead of high school because I never want to write sexual content for minors. Much of the premise should be the same (though the smut is just implied, sorry!), so I hope you don’t mind the changes.

He was a legend. The whole student populace seemed to know all about BamBam— his parties, his hookups, his bad boy reputation. You never wanted to be just another notch in his bedpost. So why did your heart race every time you locked eyes with him?

Pairing: BamBam x Reader

Genre: Drama, College!AU

Words: 3.5k

He was a legend— or at least his parties were. Once a month, his house turned into a playground for rowdy college students. According to the rumors that fluttered around campus, the parties were a hedonist’s paradise: alcohol flowed like water, the bass from the very expensive sound system could be heard blocks away, and revelry abounded. There was even a jacuzzi.

You had been to a couple of his parties in the past, hovering just at the edge of chaos. You carefully avoided throwing yourself in the fray, yet all you could distinctly remember from the parties was a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations and one hell of a hangover the next morning. Seems all the rumors about the parties were true.

You had to wonder, then, how much truth lie in the rumors about the man himself. Everyone seemed to have some story to tell about him, some whispered tidbit to share idly during a boring lecture.

“I hear BamBam has a modeling contract in Argentina.”

“I hear he has three vacation homes in Hawaii.”

“I hear Apple offered to pay him to listen to Apple Music.”

“I hear the Queen of England once saw him smile and swooned.”

All sorts of outlandish rumors seemed to circulate among the student body, and it was becoming more difficult for you to draw a clear line between what was plausible and what wasn’t. There was actually very little you knew for sure about BamBam. You knew he was in your year, though he either showed up late for his lectures or not at all; you knew that he was a cocky son of a bitch, and people seemed to eat up his smug smirks and dashing eyebrow quirks; and you knew of the trail of destruction BamBam left in the wake of his one-night stands.

For all the rumors about BamBam’s supposed eccentricities, there were just as many rumors about the people he’d hooked up with. They were poor souls, by all accounts, broken-hearted and left yearning for more from a man who refused to be tied down by commitment. You’d caught a fleeting glimpse of Bam at one of his parties, leading a girl in your year up the stairs to his bedroom, secretive smile on his face. You’d seen the girl since— and likely plenty of his other past hook-ups— and she certainly didn’t seem to be irreparably heartbroken, yet you had little reason to doubt that BamBam just wasn’t the kind of guy to commit to a monogamous relationship.

You weren’t exactly looking for a forever partner, yourself, and you certainly weren’t going to sit around and judge other people for their sex lives, yet you privately resolved to never become just another notch in his bedpost. You did not want to be fuel for someone else’s rumors.

So why did you feel the flutter of butterflies in your stomach every time you locked eyes with BamBam over your battered copy of Eugene Onegin?

Your literature course was the only class you shared with BamBam, and it miraculously seemed to be the only class he attended consistently. You found this odd; you hadn’t really pegged him as the literary type, and sure enough, every time you stole a glance at him from across the room, he seemed to be focused on anything but the professor.

More often than not these days, that something ended up being you, and you felt your cheeks grow warm every time you got caught looking at him, too.

It was only three weeks into the semester, and you’d already made eye contact with him more than you ever had with the girl who sat in the seat next to you. (Though, you conceded, that probably didn’t mean much when she very much seemed like the kind of person who only excavated herself from her bed in order to get requisite attendance points from her class— not that you could particularly blame her.)

For the most part, it wasn’t much of a hardship for you to share a class with BamBam. Sure, it was a test of your ability to focus on 19th century Russian literature instead of the enticing gaze that bore into the side of your head every class. But honestly, you’d been planning on working on your willpower and resolution lately, anyway, so might as well get some practice this way.

The problem came when your professor decided to break the class into small discussion groups— students’ choice. Naturally, your classmates gravitated towards their neighbors rather than go through the effort of physically walking around the room.

Which was why you were quite surprised to realize that BamBam had all but dashed across the room to stand in front of you and your somnolent neighbor.

“Do you guys have a third partner?” he asked, eyebrows raised hopefully.

You cast a hesitant glance at the girl next to you, but she just blinked and shrugged drowsily back at you, of no particular help whatsoever. Around you, the other groups had obviously formed and settled in, so you really had no choice but to shrug up at BamBam.

“I guess you’re our third partner.”

BamBam flashed a grateful smile and pulled up a chair. You, BamBam, and your third, very sleep partner (you’d tried asking for her name on the first day of class, but she had just stared blankly at you without saying anything, so you never asked again) sat in awkward silence for a moment before you cleared your throat and spoke.

“So, what did you think of this chapter?” You looked at the girl first, but she didn’t look up from her doodles in her notebook, so you reluctantly turned your gaze to BamBam, who just shrugged.

“It was kind of boring, I guess. I mean it’s a book written as a poem. Not very interesting, is it?” he said with a devil-may-care smirk. He sat slouched back in his chair, his long legs stretching out so far in front of him that you had to be careful not to bump his feet with yours.

You frowned and picked at the corner of your pad of paper. “I dunno,” you said, shrugging and looking down at your copy of the book. Careful annotations lined the margins of the page. “I thought it was pretty interesting, actually.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw BamBam suddenly sit up in his seat a bit, looking a bit surprised. “Oh. Really? I mean, I guess it’s not a bad book.” The words came out awkward and unsure, and you both cringed and averted your eyes to different corners of the room.

Blessedly, you were spared any further interaction when the professor called an end to the breakout discussions. BamBam stayed where he was sitting, though, and you spent the rest of the lecture fastidiously taking notes, if only to avoid his burning gaze. As soon as class was over, you gathered your belongings as quickly as you could and fled the room, worried that if you lingered too long, BamBam might actually try speaking with you again.

As successful as your retreat was, however, it provided only a temporary respite. Your lit professor decided that the breakout discussion groups were apparently a swimming success, and he decided to keep the groups of three active for the rest of the semester. So, the very next day of class, you found yourself once again sitting in a triangle of perfect awkwardness, staring at your book and wishing you’d decided to stay home. Or chosen another major. Or something.

“Uh, so this Eugene guy is kind of awful, right?” Your eyes flashed up to BamBam’s face, surprised to hear him speak. He seemed almost surprised as you were, but he quickly recovered once he realized you were looking at him. “I mean, he acts like he’s better than everyone else, but he’s really just ruining things for everyone, isn’t he?”

Slowly, you nodded. “Yeah, he’s kind of a Byronic hero. Broody, alluring, misunderstood, but also not really good for much in this case. That’s one of the things I like about this book in particular. The Byronic hero isn’t really a hero, you know?”

BamBam nodded slowly. “I know what you mean,” he said, though, really, he didn’t seem very convinced of that. “I guess I can see why you like this book so much. It’s not that bad.” BamBam offered you a smirk, and you found yourself tentatively smiling in return.

The breakout discussions tended not to be so bad after that. BamBam didn’t really have anything particularly profound to offer— and your other group member didn’t really offer anything at all— but it was clear that he actually read the chapters, and he seemed to try to make comments that would earn a smile or a nod from you. He preened and smirked whenever you agreed with him, but even that wasn’t as annoying as it might have been before. If anything, you felt sort of… fond to see him preen like that.

But as soon as each discussion time ended and the lecture resumed, you felt BamBam’s stare on you, heavy and tempting. You never looked back.

For the next couple of weeks, your class continued to use these breakout groups, though it wasn’t until you were almost finished with Eugene Onegin that things really changed.

“I think it’s kind of messed up that this guy thinks he can just play with people’s hearts like that. I mean, just because he’s weirdly desirable doesn’t mean he gets to be a jerk about it,” BamBam blustered. When he finished speaking, he watched you, eagerly waiting for your agreeing nod or comment, but instead you were just baffled.

Was the irony lost on him? Did BamBam not realize that, were rumors to be believed, he was guilty of the same thing he criticized in Onegin? You chewed on your lip for a moment, wondering if it was even worthwhile to bring it up, but BamBam was still watching you with that expectant look on his face.

“It is pretty messed up,” you conceded slowly, gauging his face for a reaction. He just started to smirk again at your agreement. “I think that if we were to think about it in the modern sense, it would be a lot like a guy who’s super popular for kind of the wrong reasons, and he uses this to his advantage when it comes to getting girls he wants. Not because he likes these girls, per se, but because they’re more trophies or things he thinks he deserves because people like him.” As you spoke, you watched the smirk melt off BamBam’s face, but you felt no satisfaction.

“It’s kind of like a fuckboy, don’t you think?” you finished, your gaze never wavering from BamBam. He looked… stricken, you supposed was a word for it. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but before he could come up with anything to say, the professor called the class back together for lecture.

You didn’t feel his gaze on you even once during the lecture.

Once class was called to an end, you sighed and gathered together your belongings. Your notes were remarkably poor; you hadn’t been able to think about anything but the hurt look in BamBam’s eyes all through the rest of class.

You were just about to sling your backpack on your shoulder and shuffle off to your next class, but you were stopped by an almost hesitant voice.

“Hey.” You turned to see BamBam, looking notably less smirky than usual.

“Hey,” you said back carefully, half wondering if he was going to talk about what you said during the discussion. God, you sure hoped not.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, seemingly mulling over his words before he spoke. “I’m hosting another party this Friday. I was hoping I might see you there,” he said, and something about the hopeful uptick of the corner of his mouth made your heart clench.

You thought about his gaze burning into you during classes, about the pumping bass and delirium of his parties, about your resolution not to be another one of his hookups.

You thought about the look on his face when you shut him down, condemned him for the same actions he hated in Eugene Onegin.

“I’ll be there,” you said, honestly surprised that your voice didn’t waver.

BamBam perked up, and that familiar damn smirk crept back on his face. “Good. I look forward to it.” With a nod, he turned to walk out the door. He hesitated just in the entryway and cast one glance back at you before he turned and left.

You stood in the middle of the classroom, backpack half slipping off your shoulder, and wondered what you’d just gotten yourself into.

See, you’d gone to his parties before. But somehow, it was entirely different now that he’d personally invited you— and after you’d insulted him, no less. Your already shaky nerves were only rattled further when you finally got close enough to the house to feel the heavy bass. It was early yet, but the party was already in full swing. Not surprising. Few students at your university could pass up the opportunity to turn up like the world was going to end.

The party was exactly like you remembered it to be: loud music, a sea of red solo cups, and the hot press of a crowd of dancing bodies. You barely crossed the threshold before someone pressed a cup of something toxic in your hand. You eyed the drink dubiously, but compared to the throng that awaited you, it was certainly the lesser of two evils. Besides, you had the feeling you’d need the extra courage to get through the night.

You downed the cup in one go, fighting off the instinct to gag against the burn of it in your nose and throat. It was vile, but it did its job well. Almost instantly, you could feel warmth suffusing to your cold, shaky fingers. The muscles of your shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit, and you let yourself get swept into the crowd of dancers, surrendering to the pulse of the bass.

It was in the midst of the dancefloor that you found BamBam. He was resplendent in all black, moving his body to the music with such ease that it seemed impossible to mistake him for anything but the king of this party. He was such a vision that at first, you thought you’d imagined the glimpse you’d caught of him, but when he locked eyes with you and called out your name, there was no mistaking.

He pushed through the crowd effortlessly, coming to a stop right in front of you. You couldn’t stop dancing for fear of getting jostled by the other partygoers, so you swallowed down your nervousness and looped an arm around BamBam’s shoulders, guiding him to match the movements of your body.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he half-yelled above the sound of the music. He needn’t have yelled, though. Once you were this close to him, it was as though you had some sort of tunnel vision that blocked out anyone and anything else. Somehow, even with the cacophony of music and revelry, all you could see was the strangely vulnerable look in his eyes, the same one from that day in class.

“I said I would,” you replied, and you hoped that he could hear the things you didn’t dare say aloud. The apology, the tentative olive branch.

BamBam peered closely into your face and nodded, and for the first time, you thought he truly understood what you were thinking.

“You did,” he confirmed. “I’m glad you came.” One of his arms came up to wrap around your waist, pulling you in. His other hand cupped your cheek, and suddenly it seemed as though the thumping bass was a mirror to the thumping of your heart.

Your face felt warm and your head light, and you knew for a fact you hadn’t drunk enough alcohol to blame it on that. Instead, you knew the culprit was the treacherous flutter of your stomach, the same feeling that arose every time you locked eyes with BamBam, and every time you felt his gaze on you but didn’t dare return it.

The fluttering was in full force tonight as you danced close to BamBam. He stared at you with that intense, burning gaze he always had. But now, you stared back, and you saw the things you refused to see before: longing, desire, and that vulnerability that made your throat grow tight.

As you looked at him, you felt emotion stirring deep within yourself. You were forced to confront everything you’d felt for BamBam: distrust of his reputation, annoyance at his cockiness, guilt for having hurt him. But you also felt a desire that mirrored his own, curiosity for what kind of a person he truly was under those rumors and that facade, and a startlingly deep longing for something that you couldn’t quite put a name to yet.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt as your emotions tumbled through your head. The fluttering in your stomach began anew, stronger than ever, and you felt words leave your mouth before you even realized you’d conjured them.

“I want you, BamBam. Even though I know I shouldn’t. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t. I can’t ignore you.”

You were mortified as soon as the words left your mouth. Already, you felt yourself becoming like the people you heard about in the rumors— the past hookups who were so desperate for any part of BamBam they could get. You’d never believed in those particular rumors, but now you couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to them.

BamBam was just another Byronic hero. He wasn’t quite normal, never quite fit in the same way other people did. But it was the things that set him apart from others that also drew them in, made him alluring. BamBam was the kind of man who could leave a trail of destruction in his wake, but there would always be someone else falling for his charms, setting themselves up for a fall. You were just the next in line.

You cringed away from the truth of your words, but there was no denying the way your heart fluttered when BamBam lit up. His lips pulled not into his signature smirk, but a bright smile that made his eyes crease, and your face grew warm as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I’d hoped,” he breathed, and the way he looked at you made you hope, too. “I hoped, but I never thought—.” He shook the thought from his head, pulling away from you to look at you carefully. “Come to my room?” he asked.

“Yes.” The word was steady even if your hands were not.

BamBam easily navigated through the crowd, tugging you along behind him. Anticipation simmered low in your belly, doggedly drowning out the niggling doubt that urged you to turn back. When you finally made it to his room, the door closed behind you, turning the loud music into muffled bass. But rather than helping you clear your thoughts, you found that your brain felt muffled, too.

For a long moment, you stood there, back pressed against the door, wrestling with your thoughts as best you could. BamBam stood in front of you, close enough to touch, but hands resting at his sides, twitching with the desire to reach out and hold you.

You looked at him and saw everything you felt— the desire, the longing, that damnable hope. Your heart hammered against your rib cage, but you felt certainty settle over your shoulders. You wanted this, for better or worse.

You opened your arms to BamBam, and you saw the flicker of relief in his face the moment before he surged forward to catch your lips in a searing kiss. The hot press of his body against yours made your nerve endings light up with anticipation, and you couldn’t help but press even deeper into him.

When BamBam broke the kiss for air, he trailed his mouth along your jaw, pressing against the sensitive patch of skin just under your ear.

“God, I’ve wanted this so badly. Wanted you so badly. I promise I’ll make this good for you, treat you right.” The words were spoken with so much emotion that it felt like a punch to the gut. You could only moan feebly and clutch at the back of his shirt.

Part of you wanted desperately to believe that he would treat you right, that tonight would be the start of something beautiful between the two of you. But the words had come out too smooth, just a bit too practiced, as if they were familiar on his tongue.

You reached behind you and flicked the lock on his door.

This might end in disaster, but damn whatever happened tomorrow. You were ready for tonight.

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 one shots #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop one shots #bambam #kunpimook bhuwakul #bambam one shot #bambam request #bambam x reader #bambam au #college au #would you consider this angst?#please let me know

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ranwing · 6 years

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Kadam Fic: Learning to Fly (7/?)

Title: Learning to Fly Series: A New Direction (was Season Four Remix) Pairing(s), Characters(s): Kadam, Kurt Hummel, Adam Crawford, Burt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Carmen Tibideaux, Cassandra July, Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang, Elliot “Starchild” Gilbert, Dani, Adam’s Apples, Original Characters Rating: PG13 Genre(s): canon divergence. Parts: 7/? Summary: As another school year starts at NYADA, Kurt seemed to have it all. The respect of his teachers, a group of wonderful friends and best of all, getting to live with the man that he’d come to love. So of course the universe would throw a few curve balls in his direction.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

On AOE

There was something oddly comforting about waking up at his old home. In his old bed, Kurt considered as he slowly came awake. It helped ease the feeling of displacement and feeling totally adrift in the world. The home that he’d shared with Adam no longer existed and his lover was no longer close at hand to reassure him that everything was going to be all right. For someone who’d always prided himself on being so self-sufficient, this sense of vulnerability was extremely disquieting.

He and Adam had spoken on the phone the previous night for what seemed like hours. The Englishman was settled into the hotel room he was sharing with Nialls and told Kurt about how interesting Boston was and that he and the others in the cast planned to spend a day or two sightseeing before they went into tech and all of their free time vanished. He was glad that Kurt was taking a bit of time to spend with his family before the school term began.

It’ll be good for you, sweetheart, the older man had insisted when Kurt had first proposed his plans to visit while his father was home on winter recess. I don’t want you to be alone right now.

Better to crawl home to lick his wounds than hide away in his dorm room in a nearly empty school, Kurt thought petulantly as he curled up under the heavy layer of blankets that provided a warm nest and pulled a pillow to his chest. He would be content to hide there for the duration of his visit.

A knock on his bedroom door roused his unwilling attention. All he wanted to do was huddle under the blankets like he did when he was a child and the outside world became just too much to bear.

“Kurt?” he heard his father’s voice call out gently. “You awake, buddy?”

Despite himself, he sat up and emerged from the covered. He didn’t want to worry his father unnecessarily. “Yeah..,” he answered, his voice sounding wan even to his own ears.

His father opened the door and peeked in to make sure that Kurt was decent before coming in and sighed when he saw that he was still in bed. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “How are you holding up?” he asked gently, sitting down on the edge of Kurt’s bed.

Kurt shrugged, feeling too mentally and physically tired to feign otherwise.

“Did you get any sleep at all?”

Kurt shook his head. “Not really,” he admitted, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good to lie. His father would know from the dark circles under his eyes that he’d been tossing and turning most of the night.

Burt sighed in sympathy. “I know that telling you that everything is going to work out isn’t going to make you feel at all better, so I’m not going to try,” he said. “But you can’t hide away from the world the whole time Adam is away. And you’re going to have to get your head back on straight before you head back to school. Adam wouldn’t appreciate you letting your grades slide because you miss him.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling a tiny bit at his father’s blunt form of comfort. It was kind of gentle kick in the pants that he needed.

“I know,” he granted. “I just need to feel sorry for myself for a little while.”

“That’s okay. You’re allowed under the circumstances,” Burt granted. “But not too long. Got that?”

Kurt nodded, inhaling deeply. He knew that however much he wanted to wallow, his own nature would push him to push past his pain and shift his focus on his education. But right now, he just hurt.

“Why don’t you get dressed and come downstairs,” Burt suggested, though there was just the slight edge of command in his tone. “Carole’s making breakfast. Just between you and me, I think that she’s looking forward to feeding you up while you’re here.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling. His stepmother apparently missed having boys around to take care of and he could look forward to plenty of home cooking and hearty meals during his visit. He’d have to make sure that he went running every day if the weather permitted, otherwise he’s probably gain twenty pounds before he returned to New York.

“I’ll be down in just a little bit,” Kurt assured his father. “I just need… Let me just wash up.” He needed a bit of space to get his mental feet under him.

“You got it, sport. Better get a move on while there’s food left,” Burt said, pleased that he at least was able to get Kurt out of bed. He ruffled Kurt’s hair playfully, hoping to coax another smile out of him before leaving his son to make himself suitably human.

“Don’t eat all the bacon before I get there,” Kurt called out, hearing his father chuckle at the not-so-playful admonishment. His father did still need to watch his diet and now that he was home for a little bit, Kurt was going to remind him of his dietary restrictions.

He arrived in the kitchen about fifteen minutes later, his face washed and teeth brushed, a soft robe wrapped comfortingly about his body. The warm scents of coffee and cinnamon greeted him and he went right for the coffee pot to pour himself a mug. The kitchen table was already set with plates and a bowl of fresh fruit salad.

Carole was standing at the counter in front of an electric skillet, turning over the pancakes she was cooking. At seeing Kurt, she placed down her spatula and pulled him into a warm embrace. “Good morning, sweetie,” she greeted gently, seeing immediately that he wasn’t his usual chipper self. “How are you feeling?”

He wasn’t going to lie to her. This was the one place where he felt that he could let down his shields and admit how much he was hurting. “Not so good. I didn’t sleep much and… I miss Adam.”

Carole smiled understandably and pressed a kiss to Kurt’s forehead. “I know you do, honey. But he’ll be back before you know it. And I’m sure that he misses you just as much,” she insisted kindly.

Kurt felt himself smiling a little sadly. “I know he does,” he granted. “It just hurts… being away from him like this.”

Carole hugged him again. “Why don’t you sit down? Breakfast is almost ready. You’ll feel better after you get some food into you.”

His stepmother’s cooking skills hadn’t deteriorated since he was home the last time, Kurt noted. And while she had prepared what she’s hoped would be comfort food for her stepson, she did it with a nod towards Kurt’s normal eating habits and her husband’s health. The pancakes were whole wheat, studded liberally with blueberries and accompanied by a plate of turkey bacon.

“This looks great, Carole,” Kurt complimented, feeling his appetite start to kindle. He took two pancakes and some fruit onto his plate, along with several strips of bacon. After pouring a healthy amount of syrup onto his pancakes, he took a bite and made an appreciative moan. “I missed your cooking.”

His stepmother smiled broadly as she served herself. “Well, if you came to visit every now and then, or came down to Washington while we’re there...,” she hinted playfully,

“Carole, let the boy be,” Burt admonished gently, chuckling at her teasing. “He’s got school and work to worry about.”

“Thanks Dad,” Kurt grinned and nibbled on a piece of bacon.

Carole huffed with mock indignance, but offered her stepson a tolerant smile. “Well, I’ll just have to send a few extra care packages your way. Especially since you’re going to be living on dorm food for the duration.”

“I won’t say no,” Kurt said agreeably, sipping at his coffee. While the dorm cafeteria kept the eating habits of their student body in mind with lots of healthy options, he was sure that it would get boring after a while. Between Carole and Ellie Crawford, he’d be the envy of all the dorm residents.

“Do you have any plans for today?” Burt asked, looking at his son pointedly. It was clear that he did not want to see Kurt moping around the house, feeling sorry for himself during the whole duration of his visit.

Kurt sighed, knowing that he needed to find something to occupy himself with besides quality family time. Thankfully McKinley High School was out for winter break, so he wouldn’t be tempted to pop in on New Directions. He’d made some tentative plans to meet up with Tina and Artie while they were all home, but he really need to find something to occupy himself with. And at the moment, he needed something to clear his head.

“I thought I’d head over to the garage this morning,” he proposed. “I kind of want something to tear apart and put back together again. I’m sure they’ve got something I can get my hands into.”

Burt nodded approvingly. “That sounds like a great idea,” he agreed. “I was going to stop by later on, but I’m sure the guys won’t mind you going in to help out.”

Having a goal now perked Kurt’s spirits up a bit. “I figured that some of the guys might be taking some time off for the holidays and they might need some help. And it’ll feel good to get my hands dirty for a little bit.”

Carole chuckled brightly at Kurt’s apparent enthusiasm. “It’ll also give you an excuse to treat yourself to a manicure,” she teased.

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing a little bit. “Well, I do have to keep myself in good condition,” he advised. Oil under his fingernails and obvious calluses would not help his employment options as audiences liked their actors to be pretty.

After finishing breakfast and helping to clean up, Kurt returned to his room to find something suitable to wear to the garage. He was sure that he had a set of coveralls in the back, but he didn’t want to risk any of his good clothes with stains that he knew from experience would never come out. He found an old pair of jeans in the back of his closet and pulled them on, wondering if they still fit.

They were a bit short since he’d bought them before his last growth spurt and a little snug about his thighs, but he definitely needed a belt because they were loose in the waist. Squatting a few times, he thought that they’d be comfortable enough to work in. Topped with an old henley that stretched across his shoulders, he realized just how much he’d changed since leaving for New York. The physical changes were just as profound as his mental and emotional ones, and he felt a certain amount of gratification that he was so far from the boy he’d been just a few years ago. He liked who and what he’d become.

Tugging on an old pair of Doc Martins, he headed downstairs. His father and Carole were lingering over another cup of coffee and talking quietly when he entered the kitchen. “Dad, I’m going to head over to the garage now.”

“Okay, sport. Tell the guys that I’ll by a later this afternoon,” Burt advised, sipping at his coffee. “Have fun destroying something.”

Kurt grinned and gave them a quick wave before bundling up to face the bitter Ohio winter. The drive to the garage went quickly, the route permanently imbedded in Kurt’s memory and he parked behind the building in the employee area. Dodging slush puddles and snow piles, he walked into the garage area where several of the mechanics were already at work.

The manager spotted Kurt as he entered and exclaimed happily, “Kurt! We were hoping you’d stop by!” Bill hurried over to hug the younger man warmly.

“Hey Bill. Good to see you,” Kurt greeted, smiling at the man who’d been mentor and baby sitter for a good portion of his childhood. He accepted the hug, feeling a sense of comfort to be around friendly faces and a familiar setting.

The other mechanics came over to offer their own welcome, glad to see Kurt. Greg leaned against the Ford SUV that he was working on and looked to him expectantly. “Your dad warned that you were in town for a little while,” he said, wiping his dirty hands on a rag.

Kurt nodded, letting himself relax a bit. “I’m on winter break and Adam had to go out of town for work so I thought I’d come home for a little bit.”

“And you’re doing well in school?” Bill asked, making his near-parental concern clear.

Kurt thought back to his winter critiques and let himself nod confidently. “It’s hard work, but I’m doing okay. We’ve got a big musical this spring and I got cast as an understudy for one of the major roles.”

“That’s great, kid,” Greg complimented. The mechanics might not know all that much about musical theater but they knew enough to understand that being cast as an understudy at this stage was no small thing.

“I was kind of hoping to get my hands into something,” Kurt explained, looking about the garage. “I need a little automotive therapy.”

Bill nodded understandingly. “I think there’s a set of your old coveralls are in the back room,” he offered. “Go get changed and I’ll see what we’ve got around for you to play with.”

Kurt smiled appreciative and headed to the staff room. Pulling on the heavy cotton material felt comforting in its own strange way and he marveled that he could still be as comfortable in an oil stained jumpsuit as he could in the most elegant couture fashion. Adam would just smile and say that it was an example of how complex a person he was.

Thoughts of his boyfriend dimmed his smile a bit. He really needed to get his hands on an engine and start taking it apart so he could clear his head a little bit.

Returning to the work area, Bill pointed him in the direction of an Audi that had clearly been on the wrong end of a significant accident. The whole front end was crunched in and the airbag had been inflated, warning that the impact had been substantial. Hopefully the driver was not seriously injured.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Kurt cooed sympathetically to the car, running his hand over a crushed bumper. It was an absolutely crime for such a beautiful vehicle to be in such sorry condition. “What happened to you?”

“This just came in yesterday,” Bill explained, amused at how Kurt always treated damaged cars like he would a wounded kitten. “Got into a fight with a lamp post after skidding on some ice and I think the lamp post won. Think you can you get started on the diagnostic so it can be submitted to the insurance?”

Kurt nodded, feeling his mood start to improve. This was exactly the kind of thing he needed. Rolling up his sleeves, he pulled a tool cart over to where the damaged car sat and carefully popped open the hood to get a look at the engine and see what needed to be done.

Running the diagnostics gave Kurt something to focus on, taking his mind away from his loneliness. He had to pay attention to what the instruments were telling him and what his own eyes were seeing. This was the part of working with cars that he’d always found the most interesting; trying to figure out just what was wrong and how to fix it in a way that was economical for the customer. It was like working out a large, greasy puzzle and he’d always been pretty good at it.

He took his time, going over the entire car and made careful notes of all the things that were wrong and needed immediate repair. There was a good crack in the radiator that he wasn’t sure could just be repaired and might need a complete replacement. Several hoses were torn or pulled loose, but those were easy fixes. One of the engine mounts was missing and definitely would need to be replaced, otherwise the owner would hit a bump and end up with the engine in his lap.

The rest of the engine seemed okay, he needed to check out the undercarriage and make sure there was no other damage. Getting a creeper board and hanging light, he lay down and slid under the car to see what was going on.

Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any damage to the major structures and while the repairs would be considerable, the owner was lucky that the car wouldn’t have to be junked. Sliding out from unde the car, he wiped off his hands and wrote up the report to be submitted to the owner’s insurance.

There were other jobs on the list that he took over to give the guys a little breathing room. It felt good to do simple tasks like oil changes and brake jobs where he got a bit dirty but was able to keep his head clear. Focusing on the tools in his hands and the machinery in front of him prevented him from dwelling too much on the other things in his life. Here there were no worries about the pressures of school or the loneliness of Adam being away. One of the guys turned on a radio and Kurt found himself humming along with the classic rock tunes, dancing a bit as he worked.

“I don’t hear any singing,” Greg complained from his station, where he was elbows deep in the engine of a Dodge Charger. “What do we have to do around here to get some entertainment?”

Bill laughed, giving Kurt a playful nudge. “Come on, kid,” he urged. “Give us a little show while we still can afford to see you.”

Kurt couldn’t help from grinning at their urging. They’d always been so supportive of him when he was growing up, despite the fact that he couldn’t be more different from them. When he came out, it was probably not much more of a surprise to them as it had been for his father and they never treated him any differently. The teasing was good natured and affectionate and he would always have a place here, no matter where life took him.

“Oh, Mama, I’m in fear for my life from the long arm of the law,” he began, using the lower end of his register. He was standing underneath a classic Chevy, draining the old oil into a disposal pail. He could certainly sing while he worked and gave his father’s employees the show that they wanted.

Kurt left the garage a few hours later after having lunch with the guys and returned home to clean up. He was feeling a bit better about things now that he had a chance to clear his head a little bit. He washed his hands in the kitchen sink with a bar of abrasive soap that his father kept there to scrub the stains off his hands, using a nail brush to get the grime out from under his fingernails. He would need to seriously moisturize his hands afterwards because the soap was so harsh on his skin, but by the time he was done, his hands were in pristine condition. A quick shower and a change of clothes left him fit to face the world again.

Coffee, he decided. He needed coffee and something sweet. It had been over a year since he last went to the Lima Bean and hoped that they were still serving the gingerbread loaf cake that he’d always loved. With a vanilla latte. That would be just the kind of pick-me-up he needed.

Driving to the café, he slipped back into instinct. He knew the way like the back of his hand, having followed the path hundreds of times before leaving this town for good. It still felt a bit strange that he was now starting to see Lima through a visitor’s eyes and not that of boy desperate to leave. Now he was more aware of the charms of the town and less focused on its obvious shortcomings. The feeling of nostalgia was almost pleasant.

The Lima Bean seemed much the same as it ever was; brightly lit and clean, the display cases filled with appetizing treats and smiling baristas preparing drinks. For a moment when he walked through the doors he felt a flash of the panic he’d felt when he’d worn one of those aprons. He’d lived in absolute anguish, fearful that he was doomed to spend his life trapped in Lima and working here because he didn’t have any other options. It had just been something to do that filled his days until he managed to find the courage in him to take the plunge and leave nearly everything and everyone that he knew in order to chase his dreams.

Going to New York without a place or plan had been terrifying, but less frightening than being stuck behind that counter with a fake smile pasted on his face so that the customers would never know that he was screaming inside. Thankfully he had escaped this trap and now felt that could walk in with his head held proudly. He wondered if the day would come when he no longer saw his hometown as a place just waiting to snare him and drag him back.

He was still seeking the balance, Kurt realized as he pulled himself mentally together. He didn’t have many fantastic memories of life in Lima, so coming back home was still hard in a lot of ways. But he had family here and it would always be a part of him no matter where his career took him in the future. Be it a Broadway stage or touring the country the way Adam was, Lima would always be a huge part of his past. It helped make him who he was.

Looking over the offerings in the case, he was torn between the gingerbread that he’d been craving and an absolutely scrumptious looking cranberry scone. He couldn’t afford to eat both, not with the way Carole was going to be stuffing him the whole time he was home. There was no way he would dare show up back at school having gained an ounce because Ms. July would certainly notice and make him suffer the consequences. One treat only.

He ordered the gingerbread since he could get scones back in New York anytime he wanted, along with the much-needed latte. The café was pretty full with the afternoon rush and there didn’t seem to be empty tables. Maybe he could find someone who would be willing to share so he could enjoy his afternoon snack.

He smiled to himself when he saw a tall blond woman sitting at the table in the back reading a magazine while nursing a large coffee that Kurt knew from past history would be black with no fewer than five packets of sugar.

Taking his plate and cup, he walked over to the table. “Mind if I join you?” he asked to get her attention.

She looked up at him with a sharp-eyed glare and prepared to launch what was probably a viciously worded refusal that would have left him gathering up his own entrails when she realized who was standing there. Her blue eyes widened in shock and, Kurt suspected, pleasure.

“Porcelain,” Coach Sylvester said softly, very clearly surprised by his presence. Her mouth drew into a wide smile. “Sit that tight little tush down right now.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling at the command in her voice. He placed his food down and took the chair opposite her. “It’s good to see you, Coach. Even if you are out of uniform.” It felt odd to see her dressed in anything other than her customary track suit.

“I’m off duty right now, and I’m not your coach anymore,” she reminded him playfully. “You can call me Sue if you want.”

Kurt recognized this for the honor that it was. There were moments when he felt like he was one of the few students that she’d not only genuinely liked, but respected in some way.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked. “I would have thought that the only way you’d ever come back to this town would be dragged kicking and screaming. You were already halfway out the door during your sophomore year.”

Kurt was reminded that for all her cutting comments and bizarre behavior, Sue had been one of his chief supporters while he was in high school. He’d never forgotten the lengths that she went through to protect him during the worst of the bullying he’d suffered and he knew that she’d been very upset during her stint as principal that she hadn’t been able to do more. Even after he gave up being a Cheerio, he remained one of her chosen few.

“Just here for a little while on winter break,” he explained. “I start classes again in a few weeks so I thought I’d enjoy a little family time. Dad’s home on recess, so it seemed like a perfect time.”

She nodded understandingly. If there was anyone who appreciated the need for family, it was Sue. “And that gorgeous hunk of English beefcake that looked like he’d follow you to the ends of the earth?”

Kurt couldn’t help from sighing. “He graduated last June and he got cast in a show that’s doing a national tour,” he explained. “We’re going to be doing the long-distance thing for a couple of months.”

His former coach gave him a sympathetic stare. “Well, if he gives you any problems, you let me know. I have several highly skilled and very discreet assassins on retainer if you need a referral.”

Kurt could only stare at her in surprise, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her and he realized that she was joking a little bit. He couldn’t help from laughing. He’d long suspected that Sue’s outrageous behavior at school was something of an act, but this confirmed it for him.

At least, he hoped that it did.

He nodded his head at the magazine, seeing an overly perky cheerleader photographed in mid-leap on the cover. “Professional research?” he asked, not hiding his amusement. “I assume that you’re going to be gearing up for Nationals when school restarts, right?”

She chuckled, nodding. “Just getting a sense of what some of the other teams may have in mind,” she explained. “You know, considering what a few of them tried last year trying to outdo me, my plan to shoot Brittany from a cannon wasn’t that insane.”

“Well, you were always a trail blazer,” Kurt reminded her, taking a taste of his gingerbread. It tasted just the way he remembered, the bite of ginger and cloves perfectly tempered by the creamy glaze.

“I don’t think we ever did so well as when we had you on the team. Your Celine Dion solo was a total showstopper that no one has been able to match,” she reminisced fondly. “What I wouldn’t give to have you back and doing a ten-minute Italian aria while doing a perfect handstand at the top of the formation.” She sighed happily at the concept.

“How NYADA is treating you? I’m assuming that you’re doing well there.”

Kurt smiled. “It’s good,” he insisted. “I’m learning a lot and we’re doing this huge musical in the spring. It’s a pretty amazing place.”

“And you’re looking awfully fit,” she noted admiringly. “It’s a shame I can’t steal you back for the team.”

Kurt couldn’t help from feeling flattered at her appraisal. “I run now pretty regularly and I’ve been doing a lot of upper body work. And I’ve got dance three times a week with a teacher that I would love to run a DNA test on, because there is no way that she’s not related to you in some way.”

“And she’s going to let you get away with eating that?” Sue asked archly, pointing to Kurt’s cake. “Because I would have had you doing jumping jacks until your limbs came flying off.”

“I usually burn it off pretty quickly because I’m so active, and I’m keeping up on my physical regimen while I’m here,” he assured her. “Ms. July will personally cut off any flab she sees with a letter opener so I need to take care of myself. My body is one of my instruments, after all.”

Sue nodded approvingly. “Well, whatever you’re doing, the results are certainly impressive,” she complimented, eyeing the breadth of his shoulders appreciatively. “You look like you could probably toss any of our fliers one handed now.”

Knowing how rarely Sue gave unvarnished approval gave Kurt a sense of pride at her positive appraisal. “We did a lot of pairs work in dance the past semester and I wasn’t always matched with the lightest girl,” he admitted. “Missing a lift always ends up with Ms. July bitching us out in the middle of class and no one wants that. And I’m taking stage combat this semester so I really need to be in good shape.”

“Now that is something I would look forward to seeing you do,” Sue chuckled, mentally picturing him wielding a sword and slicing through the bullies that had tormented him when he was younger. She paused to look at him, her eyes softening in a way that Kurt rarely remembered her showing to anyone other than her sister.

“Oh Porcelain… I’m glad to see you doing so well,” Sue claimed with clear sincerity. “I never doubted that you’d manage to find your way out of Lima. I think that you would have crawled out of here on your hands and knees if that’s what it took. If only to spite anyone who ever tried to make you feel like nothing.”

Kurt nodded, knowing that there was more than a grain of truth there. All the times he’d ended up atop a pile of trash in a dumpster, the times when he did laundry as soon as he got home from school so that his father wouldn’t see the stains from food being thrown at him or the time when he spent several weeks’ worth of allowance money to buy a designer sweater to replace the one that his father had given him as a gift and ended up destroyed… it had all been fuel to Kurt’s determination to escape Lima.

“And that was something I always appreciated about you,” she explained. “You didn’t need anyone carrying your ass the way Berry did. I mean, Schuster all but ferried her to New York on his back.”

Kurt winced a bit internally, not liking to hear the harsh reminder of how unfair an advantage Rachel had back then and not surprised that Sue still had a rather unforgiving opinion about his friend, but she hadn’t seen how Rachel had matured since coming to New York. His friend had a better understanding of her own flaws and Rachel was constantly striving to prove to Kurt that she could be the kind of friend that she wanted to be. He hoped that in time others might see that shift.

“I’ve run into your father a few times, when he’s in town,” Sue confessed. “I always liked Burt. He’s always talking about how well you’re doing, which is the best ‘screw you’ to everyone in this town that looked down on you. He mentioned that you were in some plays this past summer. I would have liked to have seen that.”

“I’m sorry,” Kurt answered softly, surprised at her statement. “I didn’t even think…”

“It’s okay. I’ll forgive the lapse this one time,” Sue assured him, a touch of teasing in her voice. “I checked out some videos on line and your dad gave me a program for the Cheerio display at McKinley. You’re definitely turning out to be one of our prouder legacies.”

Kurt wouldn’t put it past Sue to wanting to brag about him, setting up the constant reminder that someone who she had personally chosen had been mocked and put down so harshly was now succeeding. It didn’t matter that he’d only been on the squad for a few months. In Sue Sylvester’s eyes, no one ever stopped being a Cheerio once they donned the uniform.

“And next time you’re in a show, I expect that you will tell me and have a ticket for me,” she said warningly, a familiar spark that bordered on madness in her eyes. “Because if you don’t, I will personally carve out your right kidney with a grapefruit spoon and sell it on the black market to compensate my hurt feelings. Am I clear?”

He couldn’t help from laughing a bit. “Yes. I promise,” he assured her.

“Good, because I don’t think your boyfriend will be happy to be visiting you in the dialysis unit,” Sue warned playfully.

Kurt’s phone beeped for his attention and he quickly checked it in case it was something important. “Speak of the devil,” he pronounced at seeing that it was a message from Adam.

Sue smiled, amused at the way Kurt’s expression brightened at just receiving a text from his lover. It gratified her that her protégé had found someone worthy of him. “What does he have to say?” she asked, chuckling to herself at the starry-eyed look on Kurt’s face.

Kurt opened up the message and immediately started to laugh. He pressed his hand over his mouth to keep from disturbing the entire café. Adam had texted a photo of him and Nialls at what looked like Boston Commons, both of them with their hands raised in surrender because a man dressed in a colonial military uniform was guarding them at musket point. Adam had added a quick caption, Bad day to be a Brit in Boston.

Kurt handed Sue his phone and watched as she chuckled at Adam’s silly antics, but not in a way that felt like his boyfriend was being mocked.

“I’m glad that you found someone more on your level,” she insisted, handing him back his phone. “He looks like he can keep up with you.”

Kurt nodded. “I’m very happy with him,” he stated confidently.

“Good. I’m glad about that. Otherwise I’d have to take steps,” Sue warned with apparent seriousness. “I have friends in several government agencies that could have him shipped back to England before he could finish his tea.”

“Well, as much as I appreciate the gesture, that won’t be necessary,” Kurt chuckled. “He treats me like absolute royalty and besides… he can’t be deported.”

“Oh?” Sue questioned, one thin eyebrow rising in query.

Kurt couldn’t help from grinning, knowing that he was going to be surprising her. “He’s got dual citizenship,” he boasted, popping the last bit of gingerbread into his mouth.

Sue cocked her head, the surprise apparent in her expression. “Does he now? Well… that does raise my opinion of him a bit.”

“He’s not Blaine,” he assured his former coach. “Not by the furthest stretch of the imagination.”

She nodded evenly, her eyes softening. “That’s good, because if I had any inclination that he was anything at all like that weaselly Muppet that you foolishly allowed yourself to become enamored with, I’d have to arrange for your immediate kidnapping and deprogramming. I know people at Langley that excel in such matters, but I suppose that would put a crimp in your Broadway career aspirations,” she mused.

Kurt laughed at her outlandish threat, accepting that at least the sentiment was sincere. “I think that it would, so I’ll avoid doing anything to warrant such drastic actions,” he promised.

Sue laughed riotously and got a few stares turned in her direction, but she clearly didn’t care about anyone looking. She gazed at him adoringly, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Oh, I’ve missed you. You, Lopez and Fabray… you were my special ones. I saw a lot of me in all of you.”

Kurt smiled, smart enough to recognize what an honor that actually was in Sue’s estimation.

“So make sure that you enjoy your visit here,” she advised. “Take a look around and see how far you’ve come. Because as time goes by, you’re only going to push further away from this place.”

Kurt felt himself nodding, having had very much the same thoughts since he arrived in Lima. He’d long ago made the decision not to let Lima become a trap for him. There was so much waiting for him in New York. Hard work, to be sure, and undoubtedly disappointments with no promise of success. But it was what he hungered for.

He knew that in a few days, he’d be returning to New York. Classes would be starting at the end of the month and he would be moving towards the future he wanted. He looked to his former coach, deeply grateful for all that she had given him.

“I have to thank you,” he said sincerely. “I don’t know if I would have made it out of here if it weren’t for the help you gave me over the years. Or if I’d be able to survive NYADA if I hadn’t experienced learning with you. Surviving you gave me the kind of tough skin I needed.”

Sue chuckled ironically, a touch of color reaching her cheeks. She seemed touched by his statement and a bit at a loss for words. He doubted that too many people thanked her for the insults and teasing, but he recognized how it was helping him now.

“I’d better get going,” he said reluctantly. “I promised my dad that I’d be home for dinner tonight.”

Sue just smiled. “Go on,” she urged. “And say ‘hi’ to Burt for me.”

Kurt nodded and gathered up his trash. Impulsively he bent to quickly kiss Sue on her cheek. “Thank you for everything,” he said again. “I’ll let you know about my next shows.”

It took Sue a moment to recover her wits, but she reached for her wallet and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my personal information,” she said, a suspicious hoarseness in her voice as she tried to maintain her customary air of detachment. “If you need my help… or just to brag about what you’re doing so I can rub it in Schuster’s face.”

Kurt snickered, knowing too well that she would do just that given half a chance.

* * *

“Are you kidding?” Finn asked, astonished at what his stepbrother was telling him. “Sue Sylvester?”

Kurt nodded, laughing out loud. “Finn, I’m telling you that beneath that diamond-hard exterior beats a heart that is pure marshmallow.”

“For you maybe,” Finn said cautiously. “She threatened to rip my spleen out when she thought I’d knocked up Quinn and I didn’t even know what my spleen was at the time.”

“Oh, she’s not that bad,” Kurt insisted, only to be cut off by Finn’s laughter.

“To you! You were one of her favorites,” Finn pointed out. “She would have happily murdered anyone else.”

Kurt leaned back and looked at his brother’s laughing expression on his computer monitor. “Oh, I miss you so much,” he sighed fondly. Finn had always been able to get Kurt to smile. “How are things going down there? The job working out?”

Finn nodded enthusiastically. “It’s been great. You would love it here,” he insisted.

Austin certainly seemed to be agreeing with Finn. He looked tanned and fit and really happy with things. Happier than Kurt could remember him being in quite some time. He seemed to have made some progress on finding his own path, which gratified Kurt tremendously. He’d hated how Finn had felt so lost, but he appeared to be much more secure with himself now.

“And the new apartment is okay?” Kurt asked, glad that his brother had managed to find better accommodations. The one room that he and Puck had managed to find when they first arrived in Austin was neither comfortable nor safe, and Kurt was relieved when they quickly moved out.

“It’s fine,” Finn assured him. “And work has been really great. Our boss has been teaching us a lot and we’ve been going out on a lot of jobs with him. There’s this mansion that we’ve been working on that’s really amazing. Robb, our boss, said that we’re doing so well that he’s giving us a raise and wants us to stay on for good.”

Finn paused, looking a bit contemplative. “You know, I didn’t expect things to turn out this way but I think that it’s really working out well for us. Robb said that we can really do well as craftsmen and I like the work,” he assured Kurt. “He said that if you find something that you’re good at and you like it, you can really be successful if you work hard. And I think I can really see myself this.”

“That’s great, Finn,” Kurt praised happily, delighted that Finn finally seemed to be finding a pathway for himself. “Austin really seems to suit you.”

Finn nodded. “We really like it here. I mean, the people are great and it’s fun and there’s all kinds of stuff to do. Puck and I are looking to put a band together,” he confided. “There are so many clubs down here and the music scene is amazing. We think we might be able to get something going. Just for fun. And we seem to have found another guitarist so we’re off to a good start.”

“I’m so glad, Finn. That sounds amazing!” Kurt said sincerely. He could understand how the two of them might miss music and even if the band turned out to be nothing more than a hobby, it would be good for the both of them.

Finn chuckled to himself. “It’s kind of cool because he moved in with Puck and me. We can share expenses and jam whenever we want,” he explained. “And Robb gave him a job so we can afford to stay here.”

Finn cocked his head. “You want to meet him?” Before Kurt could answer, Finn turned his head and called out, “Hey! I’ve got Kurt on Skype!”

There was a bit of jostling on Finn’s end as the computer image shook and Puck’s face came into view. “Hey, little dude!” he greeted happily. “Good to see you!”

“Hi, Puck!” Kurt couldn’t help from grinning at the sight of his old friend. Like Finn, Puck was looking healthy, tan and happy. Getting out of Lima has definitely been to both of their benefits.

The image on Finn’s end jostled again as the boys shifted so that a third man could squeeze in. Kurt felt his jaw drop in shock at seeing a familiar blond head come into view.

“Sam? Is that you?” he gasped.

Sam’s familiar wide smile came into focus. “Hi Kurt,” he greeted happily. “Bet you’re surprised.”

Kurt nodded, his eyes wide with shock. “You could say that,” he admitted. “How did this happen?”

Sam cocked his head towards the other boys, who sat behind him laughing at Kurt’s reaction. “Well, I’ve been keeping in touch with these bozos and they called me up one day that their boss was looking for more workers and if I was interested in a change of scenery. So, I flew down to Texas last week and the rest is history.”

Finn leaned forward, throwing an arm around Sam’s broad’s shoulders. “It’s really cool,” he told his stepbrother happily. “It’s kind of like us having our own New Directions offshoot down here. All we need is a bassist and we’ll have a proper band.”

Kurt looked at their smiling faces and felt a sense of relief for them. “That’s great,” he stated. “I’m so glad that it’s working out for the three of you.”

Puck gave Finn a playful nudge. “And tell him about Jane,” he urged.

That sparked Kurt’s curiosity. “Jane? Who’s Jane.”

Finn began to blush so deeply that Kurt could see it over his computer, and that got some teasing laughter from the other boys. “I… I kind of started seeing someone,” he confided shyly.

Kurt’s smile widened. “Oh? Tell me more…,” he urged.

“She’s a student over at the university, studying to be a social worker,” he explained. “I met her at this bar where she works as a waitress and we started talking. You’d like her…. She’s really cute and smart and…” His voice trailed off and he started blushing again.

Kurt remembered how moony he’d been when he first met Adam and fully understood what Finn was feeling. “She’s sounds nice,” he agreed. This was the first girl that Finn seemed to be really interested in since his break up with Rachel and Kurt grasped just how big a deal it was for him. It was the last step in Finn moving on.

His phone began to ring for his attention and Kurt quickly checked to see who it was. “Oh, I’ve got Adam trying to call me,” he explained. “Gotta go.”

Finn nodded understandingly. “Okay… say hi to him for us,” he urged.

“I’ll talk to you guys soon,” Kurt promised. “Sam, you keep those two out of trouble!”

“I will,” Sam assured him. “Talk to you soon.”

“Bye Kurt!” Puck chimed in before Finn ended the connection.

Kurt shook his head in amusement at their antics before answering his phone. “Hi sweetie!” he greeted happily, putting his laptop aside.

“Hello darling,” Adam answered and Kurt could all but hear the smile in his voice. “Oh, I miss you!”

“It’s only been two days,” Kurt reminded him, though he wasn’t going to protest as he missed Adam just as much.

“I know,” Adam acquiesced. “But I still miss you.”

Kurt felt his eyes start to water from the emotions that he’d been pushing down all day. “I miss you too,” he confessed. “But you look like you’re having fun.”

Adam laughed a bit. “We had most of the day to ourselves so we did a bit of sightseeing about the city,” he explained. “We visited the Freedom Trail and Independence Hall… I’ll tell you, love, that there seems to be a bit of anti-British bias in all this.”

Kurt chuckled in amusement at the playfully hurt tone in his lover’s voice. “Imagine that,” he teased.

Adam sighed a bit dramatically. “Well, I suppose that’s to be expected,” he granted. “Admittedly this part of history gets a bit glossed over in school across the pond.”

“I assume that it would be,” Kurt laughed. “So, tell me everything. What do they have planned for all of you?”

He could hear Adam settling down more comfortably on the other end. “The hotel is quite nice and I’m rooming with Nialls. Apparently, the others decided that us ‘old marrieds’ should bunk together, but that’s fine. He and I get along well enough. Oh, and we saw the theater this morning and it’s huge! I’ve never performed in a venue this large before.”

“That’s so exciting,” Kurt said happily. “That sounds like it’s going to be amazing. Now what kind of schedule do they have for you?”

“Tomorrow we have a cast and crew meeting that’s probably going to take up a lot of the day,” Adam explained. “And in the afternoon, there’s a meet and greet with the local press so you’ll probably see some things in the next few days before our opening.

“Then we go right into tech and our final dress rehearsals before our opening night,” Adam sighed. “The producers have already warned that most of our run in Boston is selling out. It’s a bit intimidating.”

Kurt wished that he could reach through the phone and wrap his arms about the older man. It broke his heart that Adam was facing such a huge step in his career and that he wasn’t there to support him in person. He knew that Adam was capable of meeting this challenge and that he would be wildly successful, but he wanted to be at his lover’s side to encourage him.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” Kurt insisted. “You are going to be so amazing and everyone is going to see what I see in you. You deserve this so much.”

Adam didn’t answer for moment and Kurt thought that he could hear the older man sniffling. “Thank you, darling. But I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for you,” he insisted. “You’ve been so generous in encouraging me, even when it caused difficulty for you. I owe you so much…”

“Hush,” Kurt admonished gently, feeling his heart swell for this wonderful, gentle man. Adam had been so giving and supportive since the two of them first met that he couldn’t imagine not making the same effort for his lover’s benefit. “I’m fine and the next few months are going to go by so quickly for the both of us. Before we know it, your tour will be done and you’ll be back in New York with me.

“And you’ll be the big star that everyone will the clamoring to hire for their shows,” Kurt claimed. “It’ll be worth all the hard work in the end.”

“I hope so,” Adam sighed.

“It will be,” Kurt insisted gently, sensing that Adam needed a bit of metaphysical hand-holding.

He heard Adam huff a bit, as if trying to regain his composure. “Tell me what you’ve been doing, love,” he urged. “How are Burt and Carole?”

Kurt could see a deflection from a mile away but decided that it wasn’t worth pointing out. Adam was going to have to deal with his worries on his own for now. He didn’t want to start an argument right at the start of Adam’s trip.

They chatted quietly about the kind of small, unimportant things that they always discussed when together. Kurt listened to Adam’s amusing stories about the cast and updated him on his family’s antics. They laughed as they shared their stories, both of them wishing that they could be with their partner.

Kurt lay down on his bed and stretched out, cradling his phone against his cheek so he could hear Adam’s voice clearly. He closed his eyes as he listened to Adam regaling him to stories about a group of British expats on the wrong side of American patriotic exhibitions and feeling a bit on display to the other tourists.

“It was so absurd darling, but I thought that this flock of schoolchildren were actually going to demand that we personally apologize for the starting the war,” Adam laughed. “One little boy was eying me very angrily. I thought he was going to start kicking me.”

“You poor thing,” Kurt chuckled teasingly.

“Their teacher was most apologetic,” Adam reassured him. “She reminded her class that none of us had been born at the time and that we shouldn’t be held responsible for what Old King George did.

“Oh… and maybe you can clear up something for me,” he requested. “That bell… why didn’t anyone ever fix the crack? Because it’s looks so odd!”

Kurt just smiled, listening to Adam chatter about the things he’d seen and was content to let his boyfriend tell his stories. He kept his eyes closed so he could imagine that Adam was in the room with him and not several states away. And maybe if he waited long enough, he would feel Adam’s hand reaching out to touch his.

* * *

“See anything interesting?” Kurt asked as he thumbed through the racks of sheet music.

Tina shook her head. “Not really. I just don’t know what my teachers are going to be asking me to do,” she sighed.

The past few days of his vacation had gone quietly for Kurt as he’d settled into something of a routine. He would wake up early, have a cup of coffee and then go out for a quick run. He stopped by the garage a few times to help out, glad to have a chance to see the guys for a bit before he returned to New York and keep his mechanic skills up to snuff. He spent time with his father and preparing meals with Carole. He did some studying for school, rested a bit and talked with Adam every moment that Adam could steal away from his work.

To be honest, he was very much looking forward to getting back to school and what passed for normal in his life at this point. Being at loose ends was wearing on him and he wasn’t very good at coping with not having a hundred things to do at a time. He just wasn’t’ made for inactivity

He had been lazing in front of the television while his father and Carole were out for the day, feeling his brain cells dying one by one from too many hours of appalling stupid daytime television shows. Not sure if he could stand another moment of watching pathetic dramas about paternity claims, he was nearly delirious with gratitude when Tina had called to ask if he could join her at Between The Sheets to help choose some material for the upcoming semester.

Kurt looked at the stack that she’d picked, seeing that she had chosen an assortment of classic and contemporary musicals. “I think you’re off to a good start,” he consoled. “You’ve got a little of everything. Some of these are just perfect to showcase your voice.” And to push her a little out of her comfort zone, he added mentally.

She looked at the books and shrugged. “I guess,” she conceded. “I just wish that I knew myself as a performer a bit more. Rachel never had that problem.”

“That is not true,” he corrected. “Rachel thought that she did and learned the hard way that trying to copy he favorite performers wasn’t going to get her the career she wants. She’s trying to find herself just as much the rest of us are so don’t feel like you’re at a disadvantage. That’s what going to school is supposed to be about. Don’t be afraid to try new things.”

Tina looked over her selections, making sure that the music she had selected was in the key for her voice. “Did you find anything for yourself?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t need any classic musicals and they don’t have too much contemporary for my range,” he admitted. There was a decided lack of anything written specifically for a countertenor’s range, so he was concentrating on traditional tenor material. “I’m going to check out some other stuff.”

While Tina continued her search in the musical theater section, Kurt moved to where the books for other musical genres were kept. Working with the Apples had expanded his comfort zone and he wanted to utilize that more unorthodox material in his voice work in class to help him stand out from the other students. He pulled out a book of Gilbert and Sullivan operettas that looked promising and began to thumb through it. He’d like to be able to surprise his voice teachers with some unorthodox material.

“Kurt?”

He felt himself freeze at the tentative greeting, his shoulders instinctively stiffening. Taking a breath to maintain his calm, Kurt turned to find his ex-boyfriend standing too close for his comfort.

“Blaine,” he said with cool indifference, pleased that he was able to keep any anger out of his voice.

The shorter man gave Kurt a tentative smile. “Hi. I wasn’t sure if I would see you while I was in town,” he said carefully. “I’m home on winter break.”

Kurt nodded. “Dad’s home on winter recess from Congress so I thought I’d spend a little time with him before classes start.”

“That’s nice,” Blaine responded, still clearly trying to gage Kurt’s reactions.

Kurt looked Blaine over, seeing that his olive complexion was darker from the California sun and that he still had the tendency to dress like a color-blind geriatric. And he felt…. He was surprised that he felt nothing. No real anger or frustration or lingering affection. Just a bit of annoyance at being bothered when he had things to do.

It was as if he was looking at a stranger that he had no past or present contact with.

“Is… is your boyfriend with you?” Blaine asked carefully, obviously putting out feelers over Kurt’s current relationship status.

Kurt snorted, not surprised that Blaine either couldn’t be bothered to remember Adam’s name or couldn’t bring himself to actually use it.

“No, Adam is out of town right now on a job. He got cast in a play that’s doing a national tour,” he proclaimed proudly. “And yes, he and I are still together. Just in case you were wondering.”

“No! I mean…. That wasn’t…,” Blaine stammered, clearly caught off guard by Kurt’s blunt assessment of his motives. His cheeks began to burn red. “I just saw you and stopped to say hi. Nothing more, I swear.”

Kurt shrugged, honestly not caring what Blaine’s motives were. “Sam said that you’re going to school in California,” Kurt said indifferently, as if he was making polite party conversation. He eyed Blaine’s gelled helmet of a hairstyle and wondered what the hell he’d ever seen in his former boyfriend.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tina notice the unwanted intrusion on Kurt’s personal space and gave him a silent signal to see if he wanted her to step in. He shook his head, letting her know to keep her distance, aware that she didn’t want to be around Blaine any more than he did but he was grateful to see that she was ready to step in if needed.

Blaine seemed to brighten a bit at Kurt’s vague knowledge about his current activities, apparently mistaking neutral awareness for genuine interest. He still clearly lacked anything in the way of self-awareness, not realizing that the only real emotion Kurt felt was relief that Blaine was on the opposite side of the country and that he could avoid most of Blaine’s drama.

“Yeah, I’m living with Cooper while I go to UCLA,” he explained, displaying his usual pleasure in discussing anything revolving about himself. “It’s really amazing out there. I’m doing well there in my acting classes and am already being considered for television roles. I met an agent at one of Cooper’s parties and she’s convinced that she can get me a lead role.”

Somehow, Kurt doubted that, though he kept his opinion to himself. The boasting reminded him far too much of the way Rachel used to brag about her questionable achievements in a way to puff herself up when she wanted to impress others. And whether or not it was true, no longer mattered to him.

Kurt was surprised at the lack of anger and resentment he felt towards Blaine. He hadn’t forgotten what Blaine had done, but he realized that he had truly moved on. Blaine and his actions was no longer a factor in his life. The only emotion he felt was gladness that Blaine wasn’t in his life.

He felt himself nodding absently, offering the barest of compliments for whatever fortune Blaine was finding for himself without any emotional investment, good or bad. He didn’t wish any misfortune on Blaine, but he was thankful that that their lives were on completely separate tracks and would likely not be intersecting in anything other than the most superficial way ever again.

“Kurt, listen… It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. Why don’t we go grab a cup of coffee? My treat,” Blaine offered, a bit desperately in Kurt’s opinion. “We can talk… catch up a little…”

Kurt just shook his head. “No thanks. I’ve got to get going,” Kurt pronounced, a trace of firmness in his voice that warned Blaine not to try to argue him into lingering.

“Oh, come on Kurt,” Blaine whined. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other, and…”

“I said no, Blaine,” Kurt said again, making the refusal as clear as possible since Blaine was determined to be obtuse. “Tina’s waiting for me, but good luck in L.A.”

Blaine’s expression fell at the realization that Kurt was so totally closed off to him. He could only nod in defeat and mutter, “It was good to see you, Kurt. I’ve missed you.”

Kurt didn’t say anything more, only gathering up his purchases to join Tina over by the cash register. She looked over to him with gentle concern while the cashier bagged up her purchases. “You okay?” she asked. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to cut in, but you seemed to be handling him.”

Kurt smiled brightly, openly displaying the emotions that he refused to with Blaine. “Oh, definitely,” he assured her. “Let me just pay for my stuff and we can go grab lunch. There’s a burger joint that opened up that the guys in the garage said is really amazing.”

“Sounds good,” she chirped, accepting the shopping bag with her music.

Neither of the bothered to look behind them to see Blaine’s longing stare, the final realization of just how much he’d lost evident on his face.

* * *

The moment Kurt and Tina walked into Brew & Que, Kurt knew that his father’s employees had it right. The smells coming out of the restaurant kitchen were amazing and Kurt found himself liking the casual atmosphere. The restaurant had been designed to look like a roadhouse, but it was clean and the staff appeared to be friendly.

Tina picked up the menu and looked it over. “Well, there goes my diet,” she laughed when she looked at all the choices. “This all looks so good.”

“You don’t need to diet,” Kurt assured her honestly as he looked over the options. He could see why the guys at the garage liked this place so much, as the overwhelming majority of the menu was meat-based and there didn’t seem to be a low-calorie option in sight. Well, there was a salad but given how woefully out of place it looked on the menu, Kurt decided that it probably wasn’t the best offering.

Once they gave the smiling waitress their orders, Tina settled back in her seat. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “I know that Blaine can be a pill and he didn’t look like he wanted to take ‘fuck off’ for an answer.”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing at his friend’s words. He was so glad that they had reconciled and that he had given her the chance to regain his trust. “I’m starting to think that I’m never going to totally shake him,” he sighed dramatically. “I could be celebrating my ten-year anniversary and I’ll have him showing up, trying to serenade me with Katy Perry. I really wish that he’d meet someone else so he’ll forget about me.”

Tina smiled gently. “You are kind of unforgettable,” she advised. “And I know what it’s like to be hung up on an ex longer than is healthy.”

Kurt’s gaze softened. He hadn’t been around when Tina was dealing with the aftermath of her breakup with Mike, but he had been on the receiving end of some of her poor behavior. He was glad that she woke up and recognized what she’d been doing and only hurting herself before it was too late.

“So, tell me more about your classes,” he urged, changing the conversation to something more pleasant. He didn’t want to discuss Blaine any further.

He let Tina ramble on about her teachers and classmates while they waited for their lunch, giving her his full attention. On some things, NYU didn’t seem all that different than NYADA. Demanding teachers, challenging classes and competitive classmates. Tina was faced with the same challenges that he and Rachel faced; figuring out how to stand out in a school filled with talented students while developing her own unique gifts as a performer.

“Are you taking any dance classes this year?” Kurt asked, sipping at his iced tea. “You should do well in that.”

She nodded. “Dance, voice and acting,” she confirmed. “I’m going to have a pretty full schedule.”

“How are your teachers?”

Tina couldn’t help wincing. “Tough,” she sighed.

“That’s good,” he assured her. “I know that it doesn’t feel like it at times, but the tougher they are, the better a performer you’re going to become. The key is to learn to take criticism and use it to grow. Not let it demoralize you.

“You know, you can always talk to Elliot if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed,” he reminded her. “He’s still at NYU, and I’m sure he’d be glad to help.”

Tina smiled gratefully. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “There are times when I envy you and Rachel being able to support one another at school. I feel kind of on my own.”

“Well, you’re not,” Kurt promised. “Just because I’m at NYADA doesn’t mean that I can’t be there if you need me. NYU isn’t that far away.”

Tina couldn’t resist reaching out to grasp his hand in gratitude. “Thank you, Kurt,” she said earnestly. “I’m so glad that we’re still friends. Especially after how I treated you. I was such a jerk, and…”

“Shush. It’s fine,” Kurt insisted gently. “We went through a rough patch, but we’re good now.”

And they were. Kurt recognized what a dark place Tina had been in and that Blaine had taken advantage of her vulnerability, playing with her feelings in order to make himself feel better about his lot in life. Holding a grudge would not do either one of them any good. And it would give Blaine a win by letting him destroy a friendship that Kurt had cherished. He was sure that Blaine must have been annoyed to see Tina with him and not willing to give him even a word of greeting.

He probably should feel a trace of sympathy for his ex. After all, he was the one exiled to the other end of the country with none of his old friends to support him, but Kurt didn’t have quite that much nobility in him. There was just enough vindictive pettiness within him to take a rare bit of pleasure in Blaine’s misfortune.

“Kurt Hummel! Is that you?”

Kurt looked up in surprise at the familiar voice calling his name and grinned when he saw Dave Karofsky approaching their table with a huge grin on his face.

“Oh my God,” Kurt exclaimed happily, letting the bigger man sweep him up into a hug. “How long has it been?”

“Too long,” Dave admitted, letting Kurt find his feet again. He looked Kurt over from head to toe. “Wow…. You look fantastic.”

“Thanks! So do you.” And Dave did look good, in Kurt’s opinion. He was still a big, brawny young man but he was solid muscle underneath his snug fitting shirt. But what made him good looking was the brightness of his brown eyes and the open smile that contained none of the anger that had so marked him back in high school.

“You remember Tina, right?” Kurt asked, motioning to his table-mate.

Dave nodded animatedly, offering her a warm smile. “It’s good to see you,” he greeted sincerely.

“So how are things at OSU?” Kurt asked curiously.

“Good… good,” Dave confirmed. “It’s been great there.”

“You still majoring in sports business?”

Before Dave could answer, a tall young man approached him with a warm smile. “Hey, I paid the check. Are you ready to go?”

Dave’s eyes softened at the other man’s approach. “Hey, come here… I’ve got someone I want you to meet. Taylor, this is Kurt… from my high school.”

He looked to Kurt, with a gentle smile on his face. “This is Taylor. My boyfriend.”

Kurt’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly remembered his manners and moved to shake the other man’s hand in greeting. “Hi! This is… wow… It is so good to meet you.”

Dave’s boyfriend was a good looking young man with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to glimmer with spirit. He appeared to be about Kurt’s and Dave’s age and was dressed neatly in a pair of dark wash jeans and a soft knit sweater that clung to surprisingly broad shoulders.

And it didn’t miss Kurt’s attention that Taylor bore more than a fleeting resemblance to himself, and he turned a teasing arched eyebrow to the larger man. Dave just gave a small shrug, as if to say, “Hey, I’ve got a type.”

Taylor seemed just as surprised at the unexpected introduction. “So, you’re the Kurt he’s always talking about,” he laughed. “Dave was always going on about you and how I reminded him of you a bit so I feel like I probably already know you.”

Kurt felt his cheeks warm. He probably shouldn’t be too surprised that Dave apparently still regarded him so strongly.

Dave placed his arm about Taylor’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Taylor’s also a student at OSU. We met when he came to see a rugby game that I was playing in.”

The other boy laughed brightly. “I was actually there to cheer on my cousin when I saw Dave. He was totally adorable pushing around the other guys and totally kicking butt.”

Dave blushed at his boyfriend’s compliments and Kurt noticed the way the slimmer man leaned in to nuzzle teasingly under Dave’s jaw. To see Dave so easily accepting physical affection warmed Kurt’s heart because he knew just how fearful Dave had been when he was younger. It was gratifying to see just how far Dave had come. And if he had any worries that Dave’s attraction to Taylor was because of any resemblance to Kurt, the genuine affection between the two of them put his mind at least. Dave clearly liked his boyfriend for himself and not any lingering torch he might have carried.

“You’re home visiting your folks?” Kurt asked. Dave looked so happy and he hoped that everything was well with his family.

“Yup,” the larger man confirmed. “I wanted them to meet Taylor since we’ve been together for a while. Dad’s just happy that I’m happy, and Mom… she’s learning to deal.”

Kurt nodded sympathetically, knowing that Mrs. Karofsky was still learning to accept that her son was gay. Still, it sounded like she was trying, which was a lot better than the outright rejection Dave had experienced when he was first outed.

“We’re going up to Dayton to spend a few days with Taylor’s family before we head back to school,” Dave explained. “This is kind of the ‘meet the mutual folks’ tour.”

“And they’re gonna love you,” Taylor insisted.

“So, what are you doing in Lima?” Dave asked. “I would think you’d have to be pried out of New York with a crowbar.”

He turned to his boyfriend and explained, “This guy is at the best singer you ever heard. He got into this super-elite theater school. It’s like the best in the country.”

Tina couldn’t help from laughing at Dave’s effusive praise of her friend. “Careful Kurofsky, or you’re going to make your boyfriend jealous,” she teased.

“You’re mine, big guy,” Taylor reminded his boyfriend possessively. “And I don’t share, so don’t forget it.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to do that,” Dave agreed, giving Taylor an affectionate glance. “We already saw what happens if he thinks that someone is poaching.”

Kurt found himself liking Dave’s guy, if only for the fact that he seemed completely head over heels for his former classmate.

Dave gave Kurt a rueful grin. “We were at Scandals the other night and ran into your ex,” he admitted. “Taylor was in the bathroom and Blaine… Well, he started hitting on me.”

He paused, gaging Kurt’s reaction to that bit of news but Kurt just sighed.

“I’m not surprised, to be honest,” Kurt said evenly. “That’s a primary reason why he’s my ex. Was he drunk?”

Dave nodded. “He’d definitely been drinking. And he was really pushy. He kept going on about… well, about what happened back in high school and that I could do so much better.”

Kurt couldn’t help from wincing. After the way Blaine had behaved at the music store, he was left wondering if Blaine had any real feelings at all besides his own immediate gratification. Trying to use Dave’s old crush to entice him seemed to be just the kind of childish pettiness that was up Blaine’s alley. And trying to use Dave to get back at Kurt for rejecting him really ticked him off.

“Anyway, this one,” Dave continued, giving his boyfriend a playful nudge. “He comes out of the bathroom and…”

“I see this badly dressed, drunk creep all over my boyfriend and I told him that if he didn’t remove his hands from my man, then I was going to rip his arms off and beat him over his greasy head with them.”

Taylor laughed wickedly. “You never saw someone back pedal so fast in your life!”

“And he would have done it!” Dave insisted, giving Taylor and affectionate look. Having someone that looked like him being treated with such possessiveness was more than a little satisfying.

Looking at Taylor’s hands, Kurt had to agree with Dave’s assessment. They were surprisingly strong-looking, with unexpected calluses on the fingers and palms that hinted at a lot of hard physical activity. The young man’s forearms were corded with powerful muscle and sinew. Paired with those strong shoulders, there was a lot of upper body strength there. Taylor looked like he could probably lift Dave without too much effort.

Dave couldn’t resist leaning close to Kurt and whispering confidingly, “He’s on the gymnastics team.”

Kurt cocked an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

Dave nodded, looking very pleased with himself. “He’s super bendy.”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing. He was genuinely happy for Dave, glad that he was finally in a good place and seemed really content with his life. That was all Kurt could have ever wanted for him.

“Are you still seeing that guy you met at school?” Dave asked curiously.

Kurt nodded and got out his phone. “Yup. Adam’s working on a national tour right now, but we’re still together.”

“They’re disgustingly in love,” Tina inserted, giving her friend an affectionate smile.

Kurt pulled up a photo of the two of them from Thanksgiving and showed it to Dave and Taylor.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” Taylor cooed admiringly. He looked to Kurt and nodded in approval. “Very nice.”

Kurt smiled proudly. “We know how to pick the good ones,” he informed Taylor, causing Dave to blush.

And Dave was a good guy to Kurt. He’d come so far from the fearful, bullying boy he’d been and was now a man who was confident and open about who and what he was. It was wonderful to see.

When the waitress returned with Kurt’s and Tina’s lunch, Dave stepped back. “It was great to see the both of you, but we’d better get going,” he said graciously. “I promised my dad that we’d spend the afternoon with him.”

Kurt nodded, turning to shake Taylor’s hand again. “It was really great meeting you,” he insisted sincerely. “Take good care of the big guy here.”

Taylor nodded. “I will. Good luck back in New York.”

Kurt smiled appreciatively, glad to see that Dave had found himself a really good guy. He turned to give Dave a hug. “Take care of yourself,” he urged. “And let’s make sure that we keep in touch more.”

“You got it,” Dave confirmed. He glanced over to Tina and gave her a friendly wave. “It was nice to see you, Tina.”

She smiled back. “You too!”

Once the two men left, Dave’s arm casually thrown around the other man’s shoulders to keep him close, Kurt and Tina sat down to enjoy their lunch. Tina picked up a french fry and popped it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“It’s funny,” she mused. “Some people change so much and others… they don’t really change at all. Do they?”

Kurt knew that Tina was talking about Blaine and sad realization that the behaviors he’d been displaying of late were his true colors showing through. And that he probably had been showing for a very long time. And that it hurt to have loved and trusted someone who clearly had been so unworthy of that consideration.

And he wasn’t the same person that he’d been when he first left Lima. He was discovering strengths and desires that he’d barely begun to tap. He could see the boy he’d been when his father first put him on a plane for New York and the man who had returned for a brief visit.

All they could do was take what they had learned from the experience and move on. Kurt took a bite from his burger and took a moment to savor the taste, putting Blaine from his mind. He had so much to look forward to in life and it was something of relief that his old relationship no longer haunted him quite so strongly.

Blaine, like Lima itself, could hold him back only if he permitted them to. And he had long since made the decision that they wouldn’t.

He had dreams to follow and Blaine had long since ceased to be a part of them.

* * *

The last days of Kurt’s visit home were pleasant and easy ones. He allowed Carole to mother him, and spent quiet hours with her and his father to reconnect. He rested and prepared for his upcoming classes and rehearsals. He hung around with his friends who were in town. And he spoke with Adam every moment that his boyfriend could spare during his tech preparations.

Still, he would be lying if he tried to claim that he wasn’t glad to be returning to New York. Back where he really belonged.

He nearly went back to the apartment that he’d shared with Adam, only recognizing after he stepped onto the subway with his luggage in tow that he couldn’t go back there again. A change of trains brought him to NYADA, which would now be his base of operations in all things

His room in the dorms was stark and bare, the only amenities being the bed, dresser and desk that had clearly seen a lot of wear and tear since they were installed. The cinderblock wall behind his bed was painted a clean white, providing him with a blank canvas that he could transform into his own space. The boxes and bags containing his possessions sat on the floor, waiting to be unpacked.

Kurt sighed to himself, the realization of what the next few months would really entail finally hitting him. But there was no use in moping, not when he had things to do. Adam needed him to be strong enough to stand on his own two feet while the older man was away and the last thing that Kurt wanted to do was disappoint him. He needed to be able to do this for the both of them.

With quiet resolve, he took up the box cutter and opened up the first box. A framed photo of himself and Adam took a prominent spot on the desk where he would be able to see it from anywhere in the room. After that, the rest of things would fall into place.

#kadam fic #kurt hummel #adam crawford #rachel berry #santana lopez #tina cohen chang #artie abrams #burt hummel #carole hudson #finn hudson #sam evans #noah puckerman #dave kurofsky #blaine anderson #not blaine or klaine friendly #original characters

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dfrfhg · 3 years

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cryptoevent · 3 years

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The crypto whale who wants to give billions away – Cointelegraph Magazine

Like many people in the cryptocurrency industry, Sam Bankman-Fried is in it for the money. As founder of the quantum trading company Alameda Research, the FTX exchange and the DeFi serum protocol, the 28-year-old man with curly hair has amassed a $10 billion fortune in the sector in just three years.

Unlike most people in the cryptocurrency industry, he’s building a fortune to give half of it away. He is an effective altruist who essentially steals from the rich to give to the poor through his supernatural, coded trading strategies.

Maybe without the robbery, he says. Ultimately, my goal is to have as much impact as possible, whatever that may be. And right now, I think, it’s through donations, so I’m wondering how I can do as much as I can and give as much as I can.

The SBF, as it is sometimes called, has been around for some time. He was director of development for the Center for Effective Altruism for a few months in 2017, and before that he spent half his income working on Wall Street. He plans to donate about 50% of his crypto billions, but only after he reinvests in his ever-growing empire.

Nevertheless, he donates to charities as they arise. He was the second-largest contributor to President Joe Biden’s campaign, behind former New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, who contributed $5.2 million.

I was excited about the impact this could have. I thought what happened in the election was important.

In addition, the FTX Foundation has recently been established. It donates 1% of the cost of the platform and will double user donations, dollar for dollar, up to $10,000 per day. In its first weeks of operation, the foundation has raised more than $2 million, mostly in the form of donations from users, who can choose from a carefully curated list of charitable organizations.

Old pouffe

SBF’s growing notoriety was further enhanced when the company was included in this year’s Forbes 30 Under 30 financial list. I’m honored, he says. I usually look forward more than backward, so it was a little cool, but it went pretty fast.

It also ranked third in a recent Top 100 ranking.

He has been known to sleep on an ottoman chair in his Hong Kong office so as not to miss a deal. It seems that the main reason SBF earns more than anyone else is that it is almost never off-schedule.

I’m in the office, mostly 24 hours a day. Sometimes I just take a nap on the ottoman here and of course I talk to colleagues and sometimes people on the internet, but it’s mostly his job.

He has no girlfriend and doesn’t have many contacts outside of work, although he does find time to talk to his family in the United States on the phone several times a week. It’s safe to say that FBS’ers aren’t the kind of people who are desperate for a perfect work-life balance, or even accept that their productivity declines after the first 11 hours of work.

I think these kinds of stories are vastly overrated, and the cruel or inspiring truth, depending on how you think about it, is that the more you put in, the more you get out, he says. That motivates me, and that’s satisfying, but you know, another part of it is how I think I can have the biggest impact.

How did I get here?

The child of two law professors at Stanford University, SBF discovered the Effective Altruism movement while studying physics at MIT.

Made popular by philosophers and ethicists including Toby Ord and Peter Singer, the movement focuses on pragmatic ways of helping others, using science and reason to maximize benefits rather than the well-intentioned and mediocre results typical of some charities. This practical approach also extends to how best to help a person.

Imagine how much good you can do by working directly for a cause, compared to what you can do by working and donating to Wall Street. In many cases, you could probably help them even more with donations. So, basically, I checked out Wall Street.

Fellow interns at quant trading firm Jane Street Capital pointed him in the direction of Wall Street, and he began working there just after graduating from college in 2014. Why did they hire a physicist with little experience in finance straight out of school, you ask?

It turns out that strategies for quantum trading are valuable trade secrets, which means that effective strategies are not taught in university courses. Instead, companies hire people with raw talent: Mathematicians or people with extensive experience in physics or computer science.

What you need to know about the markets, they will teach you, he says. He has traded various ETFs, futures, currencies and stocks and has developed an automated OTC trading system. There, he became interested in the incredibly profitable arbitrage opportunities in inefficient crypto markets and founded the crypto-quantum trading company Alameda Research in late 2017 to take advantage of them.

Rules applicable to all whales

Alameda Research has grown into one of the largest crypto firms with about $2.5 billion in assets under management, although as with its own assets, SBF puts this into perspective with some caveats about liquid and illiquid assets.

Alameda is the Moby Dick of cryptocurrences, representing up to 10% of cryptocurrences circulating in the markets at any given time. I think sometimes he can get to that part of the volume, he says. I think the average is a little lower. It belongs to the group of five to ten large commercial companies in this sector.

This means that every Alameda transaction has the potential to move the markets and generate liquidity. Last October, Alameda was widely accused of having caused the IFJ’s share price collapse by short selling, although SBF minimized the impact of this practice. He believes that with great power comes great responsibility.

It’s an absolute responsibility, he says, adding that he tries to follow the approach of TradFi Quant’s companies. Their job is to find profitable companies, but also to provide liquidity and promote healthy markets, he says. The greatest responsibility is to do no harm. And to ensure that what you do generally promotes, rather than disrupts, the liquidity of healthy markets and the efficiency of transactions.

He added that arbitrage operations, for example, can have a positive effect because they make markets more efficient and reduce prices where there are premiums. Identifying and developing opportunities to profit from arbitrage transactions was the main reason for founding Alameda. One of the first big gains we made was Litecoin, he recalls.

There was a week in late 2017 when Litecoin was trading at a steady 20% price on the GDAX Coinbase [now Coinbase Pro]. That’s cool, you make 10% every half hour, I guess you make dollars forever? And that, of course, is not the solution.

It proved terribly difficult and necessary to use this facility to circumvent the trade size and withdrawal limits of one million per day. A few years ago in crypto-economics, a big part of the problem was finding the logistics, he says.

In another arbitrage transaction, SBF and its friends moved up to $25 million a day through a series of intermediaries and land banks in Japan to take advantage of Kimchee’s infamous bonus, which allowed Bitcoin to be traded up to a third more in South Korea’s hard-to-reach financial system than in the United States.

But it is the management of the outdated financial system that has caused the biggest problems. The slowest and most difficult, most expensive and frustrating part of arbitration is the fiat, he says, referring to the difficulty of getting accounts that can then be closed at any time, archaic procedures and bureaucracy, and incredibly slow bank transfers.

We worked in physical bank branches for five hours a day for over five months because it took a long time to transfer money, he says, adding:

It’s like arriving at 10am and staying there with a few people until 1pm to make all the appointments we had to have every damn day of the week to send the same recommendation we sent yesterday.

This is one of the reasons SBF is so passionate about the DeFi – its vision is to one day replace the existing financial system, which is already too cumbersome. The current payment rails are not efficient at all, he says. There are billions of companies that just abstract it, and you end up with this incredibly complicated web of shit to make it usable for most people. They work on older systems that were not even designed for the Internet.

Effects of cryptography

For many, the SBF did not become an important figure in cryptography and DeFi until the mid-1920s, when it began to have an impact on Twitter crypto. It was an intentional gesture: He would have liked to have stayed under the radar in 2018 as Alameda focuses on quota trading: Very little advertising is required, which is usually a disadvantage. But when he launched FTX, an innovative cryptocurrency exchange system, in 2019, he had to create a community around it, and he took the lead in becoming its public face on social media.

As regards FTX as a retailer, the following rules apply: The more customers, the better. You can develop the best product in the world, but if no one knows about it, it’s worthless, he says.

One of the most challenging and interesting tasks was finding ways to engage users, and a large part of this task was awareness raising.

He seems to have understood this, as the FTX is now the fifth largest derivatives exchange by volume, with a valuation of $3.5 billion. The company has launched a number of innovative markets, including offering token shares to companies like Tesla, Apple and Amazon, as well as trading on Coinbase prior to its IPO.

She is also using her wealth and influence to try to overcome what she sees as the biggest obstacle to widespread WiFi adoption. He believes that Ethereum, including Eth2, is not sufficiently sized for cryptography and DeFi to replace the existing financial system. Currently, DeFi can process about 10 transactions per second, and Layer 2 solutions offer several thousand TPS.

It’s an absolutely solid and immutable barrier to growth, he says. The Fay literally cannot develop as an ecosystem until this problem is resolved. That’s why there is no long-term plan that doesn’t address this problem. …it’s just deadly. Even the Eth2 target of 100,000 GST is not enough for what the SBF has in mind.

If your goal is to reach 100 million or a billion users, […] the application should be able to process about a million transactions per second to become one of the biggest applications in the world. So you can endlessly tick off the list without having to consider other factors, with a scaling solution that will not lead you to your goal.

This has led him to become one of the strongest proponents of Solana, a retail chain that currently handles 65,000 TPS and which the team claims could eventually reach amazing levels : 710,000 TPS on a 1 gigabit connection or 28.4 million TPS on a 40 gigabit connection.

In August 2020, he founded Serum DEX on Solana and launched SRM Cryptocurrency. Bankman-Fried says you can see the benefits of Solana in whey by the order book. The matching engine takes only a hundredth of a cent to place an order, and auctions take only a few seconds.

So get lots of juice from the higher flow. And that has really helped to broaden the product base. So much so that I think our best estimate is that Whey DEX probably consumed more transactions in six months of operation than the entire Ethereum store chain ever did.

Network effects have given Ethereum a hard time, forcing deFi projects and users to migrate to Solana. Even after Chief Nomi handed over control of SushiSwap to him, he was unable to convince the community to hand him over. In the end, it was much more complicated than we thought to migrate existing projects and much easier to create new ones, he explains, adding :

We would be very happy if they had an outpost on Solana. I think they still will at some point. But I also think Seren will go both ways. Ultimately, I want better products and better users, you know, no matter what.

(After our interview, there was a new proposal to build a version of SushiSwap on Solan and Whey, perhaps under the name Bonsai).

While the SBF argues that the network effects of many interconnected applications built on Ethereum are significant, it notes that each project will eventually need to migrate and dismantle assemblies and toolsets with existing options to move to Layer Two, Eth2 or another scalable solution. As for the number of users, he claims that the effects of the ETH network are overestimated.

The other part is that while DeFi’s current user base is very loyal, very large and powerful, it is not very large. The daily active users, I think it’s tens of thousands. I think FTX probably has more active daily users than all the DeFi’s combined.

It appears that SBF is considering implementing the Solana blockchain as infrastructure in applications where it is invisible to most users, to allow millions of users to access the DeFi. In early 2021, Alameda did a $50 million funding round to implement DeFi type tools on Maps.me, an offline European mapping application with 140 million users. Solana will build a multi-currency portfolio with exchange rates and locations. FTX’s purchase of Blockfolio could follow a similar strategy.

I think it will be a very cool product and a powerful suite of products for the application, he says of Maps.me. I’m very excited. I think this could be the start of adoption.

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talesofealdancynedom · 3 years

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Basil Blcneadre and Levi Healpenbroc. Dont worry; This is not a tale with a love triangle, between our female lead and twin transfer students.

Tale 10: Cadence Bucflowen & Laserline (chapter 2 - To Fawn Over 2/4) part 2. Stories of Fey

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A week after classes had begun, Morgan asked Cadence if she was enjoying classes, or had made any friends. Cadence hadn’t said a single word all week, and her parents were getting worried. Morgan and Emilia hoped Cadence would make at least one friend; even if it was someone who was assigned as her partner in gym, or potions labs. Cadence, of course, had not made any friends. She was keenly observing her peers, without engaging them. Keeping a good distance. Even in situations that required team work; Cadence and her familiar Freya were quieter than midnight in the countryside. Cadence was tensed with fear that something might go wrong, which would result in six years of academic suffering. Around the dinner table, Cadence’s little sisters and brother began arguing about their mother’s cooking. Cadence had lost her apatite. And it wasn’t just because Emilia couldn’t cook.

“You look like a wilting Lilly Cadence. Children your age can be super mean, but I bet there is at least one person in that academy you can relate too,” Morgan said, attempting to cheer up his daughter. Cadence shrugged. “It’s not easy, but I made friends eventually; and I was as nervous wreck. Not to mention forming a club of youths that were practicing old magic, that was illegal at the time…but still!” Morgan continued. He desperately wanted Cadence to gain some confidence and independence; He tried his best to encourage her. Morgan wanted to give all his children the love and support he wished he had gotten in his youth. Cadence had begun to grimace at after hearing Morgan’s remarks. She was going to school because she loved healing magic, not to make friends. Or so she told herself. A relationships can certainly ice the cake of life; keeping in mind that life can still be cake, without frosting. Emilia, also took a shot at cheering Cadence; noticing her daughters crestfallen demeaner was intensifying.

“You don’t have to have friends; but it will be nice to have someone who can go through it with you. You’re a nice girl, and I’m sure you have nothing to fear. Besides, your father is not joking…. he actually feinted a few times. Walking disaster; too obsessed with magic, and scared of human interaction. He was bullied a lot at first. Wait are the other kids being mean to you?” Emilia said.

“Not helpful. I don’t want to be in a rebel club, or need another kid to talk to. Also, that’s not funny mom; I feint really easy like dad…I don’t even want to imagine that. Freya is enough companionship for me, thanks. I’ll be ok. Eventually…” Cadence murmured, shrinking into her seat. Cadence felt like she had inherited the worst qualities of her father. Feinting, preferring magic company, and purebred generalized anxiety; Which was now triggered by fear of being bullied. Or worse, swooning in class.

“You know what Cadence; why don’t you bring Laserline to school! He’s been the fey that has been your closet friend since birth. Call him Laser for short, as not to give away his fey name. A lot of my crew were friends with the local fey as well. I bet the school staff won’t mind, as we’re in a magical forest anyway. He can be someone you know, who can cheer you on and help you meet people. A plutonic wing man of sorts!” Morgan cheered. Cadence put on a slight smile. Laser would defiantly distract people away from her; better yet, a little piece of home that is less embarrassing than a sibling. Then she was briefly distracted by the fear of what would happen when her siblings joined her; and then snapped back to the conversation. Cadence enthusiastically nodded, in response to her father proposition. Emilia dropped her head in her palm. Of course, her husband and children would conclude magic was the solution to an inherently non-mystical situation. She loved performing magic tricks, as a magician, but mages are a whole new level of magic passion. Emilia knew Cadence didn’t need a fey friend, she needed to be able to open up to people slowly, and interact with human society confidently.

At school, Laser fell in love with the atmosphere and interesting facts that academia provided. Prancing alongside Cadence and Freya, was a time-honoured tradition between the three of them. He had missed it while she was at school. But now they could do it in class, between class, and going to and from school. Laser had been seeing Cadence quiet, tense, and weary all week when she came home. She hadn’t talked to him even once. Laserline was now also worried about Cadence; and thus he was more then happy to help. Cadence did feel a little calmer having him around. Though, not enough to change anything. However, Laser was not distracting people away from her, or towards her. In fact, it was like he was another student. He would go off to meet young wizards in her stead. People in Pepperidge had gotten so used to fey, that they no longer found fey exotic, or unworthy of human interaction and respect. Laserline had become a student, attending classes, hanging with Cadence, and waving to everyone he met. After a week of going to school together, Laserline and Cadence finally began to get excited to wake up every morning, to see what they would learn that day.

One day, Cadence, Laserline, and their classmates, were introduced to new students from the Westlands; a pair of fraternal twins from Grand snow, the village of the Dragon Gate. Which meant the two boys were raised in an ancestral setting, and in a magic forest. Cadence recognized their names form somewhere, but had trouble recalling as one of the boys was incredibly distracting for some reason. The darker haired one was Levi Healpenbroc, and the blonder one was Basil Blacneadre. Both were in their junior year like Cadence. Then a problem arose; Cadence sat at the back of the class, where the seats where empty, to avoid attention. Thus, the only remaining seats for Basil and Levi to sitin, were next to Cadence. Just as this occurred to her, the twins were told to sit next to her. The boys complimented Cadence, and her familiar Freya, graciously. They both found Cadence enchanting, possibly in the literal sense; magic wafted off of her. Whether it was from being born on Tiberius gate, being a mage, named by the Stag King, or being the King Mage’s daughter, Cadence radiated a certain serene charm; like gently pouring water. Cadence froze solid upon receiving their greetings, unable to nod or accept the compliments. They were both so charming.

“Your complements are so sweet, that she must be lost for words. Cadence is very shy. And you are both really handsome” Laser said, on her behalf. Cadence then began to have a full-on panic attack.

“No worries; kindness needs no payment.” Basil chimed. Laserline was confident he had said the right thing; He had seen humans act like this before. One of those boys must have caught Cadences attention. The equinox ball was coming up as well, and not just the community one held at Rosethorn Manor in town. As far as Laser was concerned, this was the perfect opportunity to force Cadence to make friends; an obligatory social event.

“Is she ok?” Levi said, pointing to Cadence, who had gone pale. She then feinted. Social events.

Basil and Levi, as instructed by their teacher, took her to the nurse’s office. She was put on the caught, and nurse Cerberus said she was just prone to bouts of syncope like her father. First impressions.

The solstice and equinox dances, in schools, were excuses to wear fairy robes, teach the children how to dance, and learn traditions. Apposed to the community celebrations, which were used to teach social etiquette and match up the youths. Everything was also heavily decorated. These seasonal gatherings were obviously an ancient seasonal tradition, that was magically symbolic, but not in the way common folk celebrated it. It was a leftover from ancient times, when mages and commoners liked to have fun. But, as with all human celebrations: magic, fun, culturally unique traditions, and seasonal shifts, were no longer the focus of these special occasions. Alas, in modern times, the equinox and solstice balls were an opportunity for copious amount of social drama. Cadence’s parents, and their friends, had managed to avoid the whirlwind of high school proms three times a year, every year. Cadence however, was not so lucky. Her dedication to being a solo mythical healer, was being tainted by the childish ways of entitled mundane men with wands. And a really enthusiastic fey friend, that has no understanding of human society, and thinks people love each other spontaneously.

The next day, Cadence waited patiently in the courtyard for Laserline, for lunch. She was hoping no one would come up and ask for a date at the dance, because her parents said she was so pretty she shan’t be single for long. This only made her more self conscious about her appearance; to the point of wearing frumpy pastel sweaters and knit hats; year-round. These off-hand remarks about her radiance were a joke; No one actually cared about appearances, when true love was something that really existed. But Cadence didn’t take it as a joke. Everything she heard was filtered into a new fear. While she sat in the courtyard, she absorbed the scenery to calm down; the autumn air was refreshing, and Cadence had brought a hefty basket of a variety of fresh picked magic apples. Cadence loved these harvest gifts from the tree kingdom; but stag children loved them more. These apples were a special treat for Laser. She gathered them early, before her father picked most of them to feed the unicorns on Tiberius Gate’s pastures. There were golden apples, love apples, pink chippers, and mauve pomes. Cadence decided to dig in while she waited. When Laserline did arrive, he brought Levi and Basil with him. Cadence nearly chocked, and went into a coughing fit. Basil began roughly patting her on the back. Her fear was becoming reality; she was being incompetent in public. Catching her breath, Cadence slapped his arm away.

“That hurt more then the apple!” Cadence snapped. Then her face paled as she remembered who her visitors were. Cadence felt light headed suddenly.

“Since the twins are new here, and don’t have friends yet, I thought you might want to be their companion! Since you don’t have human friends your age either. That, and your parents want you to open up, because being alone makes people sad. When I asked Basil and Levi if wanted to be your friend, they both said yes!” Laser began to rant. Then he noticed her stunned face “Oh, oh! Cadence, please tell me which one is the one you keep looking at? They are always together, so I can’t tell which one I should root for.” Laserline went on. Cadence flushed as red as her apple.

“Um. Hi,” Candence said quietly. “I’m Cadence Bucflowen…nice to meet you…Consciously” She said nervously. The boys gave her a smile and handshake, then Levi noticed her basket.

“Oh, golden apples! Are they real? Mother and father used to go to school here, and said that Tiberius Gate has every kind of magic tree child.” Levi asked. Cadence nodded yes. And then it hit her; the reason she recognized their names, was because these were the sons of her father’s high school friends. Both of which had became mages of the Dragon Gate in Grand Snow.

“Your dad wouldn’t happen to be thee mage of the Dragon Gate? Ouroboros Blacneadre? Because if that’s the case, our dads know each other.” Cadence said. She handed a pink sugar apple to Basil, and wiggled a little with joy handing a golden one to Levi. Basil was less interested in magic boteney but wouldn’t turn down gifts, while Levi was excited to hear they had something in common.

“Now we have to be friends,” Levi laughed, biting into the apple. It tasted like how buying nice things, with financial security, feels. Cadence smiled, seeing her gifts were well received and world had not imploded due to a conversation. She was getting sore from tensing her whole body though. This is how polite interactions with people goes right? She thought.

“You know what would be super funny, Cadence? What if you took both of us to the harvest equinox ball? Fairest lady in all the land.” Basil joked. “Why have one young man to dance with, when you could two? That are twins?” He smiled. Cadence began to giggle, then snort, and then break into full laughter. Freya had begun to join, and was rolling in the leaves nocking over the apples. She held out her hand and shook Basil and Levi’s hands again, but with feeling. Laserline though Cadence had finally lost it, and wondered if he had made a grave mistake introducing the boys. Cadence never laughed like that, what if she had gone manic? Levi Helped Cadence up, and brushed the leaves off her coat.

“Deal boys. MY DADS GOING TO LOSE IT,” Cadence laughed. “I’ll be like: ‘Hey dad, you said a fey would help me make friends? You were right! Now I have two Daneian Men to sweep me off to prom; this Friday.” Cadence snickered.

“That was a joke. You can’t take two boys to a dance. Traditional dances in the Grand West are an extremely heteronormative monogamous archaic unspoken social conformity. Also, we’re brothers. That’s super weird….” Levi interjected. Levi and Basil had started to help Cadence gather up the apples, and put them back in the basket Freya was holding.

“Well, it’s a funny joke, and I needed a laugh. My parents have been bothering me to make friends, and it’s made miserable. Besides, we’re dumb kids that nobody will blame for a cute joke. I mean, who else are you two going to ask out to a social event, aside from your new and only friend, on such short notice?” Cadence said. “Also, my little brother says twins count as one person.” She laughed. Cadence finished off her apple, including the core. The four of them were having a good laugh about it. Cadence had to admit, maybe people aren’t so bad. These two people anyway.

Cadence had a unique ability to be unnoticed. No matter how fancy her robes are, or the cleaning up to peak magical perfection; No one noticed Cadence had brought two boys to dance with. Morgan and Emilia both felt feint from laughing. This was not what he meant when he wanted her to make friends. But then again, avoiding romantic settings by doing the twist with your buds, did sound like a good time. Morgan and Emilia wanted Cadence to have a good time. The boys were put together, while in traditional Westland dress, yet couldn’t keep a straight face. Their father would get a kick out of the letter Morgan was about to send.

“I wish we were able to do stuff like that in school.” Emilia said. “Remember when your cousin Reggie had to go with Rah as each other’s beards, because of ‘tradition’?” She reminisced.

“Emilia.” Morgan weezed. “I change my mind. I don’t want all my little girls to dance with all the boys yet.”

“Include that in your letter to Saianne and Ouroboros so they also feel terrible their children are growing up and it seems just like yesterday we were doing dumb stuff like that. Do it Morgan. For us.” Emilia laughed. The rest of the children where now at Morgan’s feet hugging him, as they could not tell if he was happy or in pain. Most often it is both.

At the dance, Cadence took turns dancing with Levi, Basil, and Laserline. When it was Levi’s turn however, Cadence slowed down, and was suddenly very uncomfortable. It was the slow song.

“Cadence, are you ok? Tuckered out from too much fun? Do I need to sweep you off your feet and gallantly take you home to your father’s domain, my fair maiden?” Levi quietly joked to make her loosen up. Cadence wheezed a bit, and felt stiff as a board. Levi searched his brain for something else to say, well they awkwardly swayed in little circle on the dance floor. It was ok, everyone was also unaware everyone was doing the exact same thing. Except Basil, who was definitely judging his twin brother’s lack of smoothness.

“Cadence is a pretty name.” Levi panicked. Cadence was starting to glaze over. “It’s the melody or end of a song, right? House Bucflowen... Shouldn’t you be in house Cyendom like your father?” Levi asked. Cadence found an instance to take a breath, and answer:

“The Stag King named me. Like a fey name. I was given a house by him personally because father is King Mage. My siblings also got a unique name from a Beast King. The Wolf King named my little brother after my dead great grandfather…in house Monabellan….” Cadence said. She had slowly begun to nuzzle deep into Lavi’s velvet robes, nearly hugging the life out of him. Her answer made him smile. Cadence was opening a little. She never thought about it, but she had an interesting piece of her identity in her name. Cadence had begun to blissfully relax into Levi. Then, putting her fears aside, Cadence decided she wanted to get to know him.

“What about your name? bet it’s not as fancy as practically getting a fey name from a magical entity; but Levi? That doesn’t sound like a traditional Danian name…” Cadence asked. The song had finished and people clapped.

“Um, It’s short for Leviathan…. Basil’s full name is Basilisk. Leviathan Healingcreek and Basilisk Blacksnake. We hate it. My father’s line, names their children after dragon fey. His is Ouroboros, our grandfather is Hydra, and our Aunt is Quetzalcoatl. We all call her Pretzel, because no kid can pronounce that garbage…. It’s nowhere near as cool as your name though.” Levi blushed, ruffling his hair as he walked her to the chairs. Levi’s answer made Cadence smile; she thought that they also had interesting names, with cool stories. Levi was initially right however; they were all tiered and anticipating a good night’s sleep. As they waved goodbye, Morgan asked Cadence if she had fun. Cadence gave him a big smile and hug. Morgan wished he could have taken a picture.

NEXT--->

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