#that's why I had to add the Knox approved part
Note
Hi :)
Heard you were accepting dps requests so what about a charlie fic
I feel like charlie is the type of person to flirt with everyone and ask anyone he finds attractive out except when it comes to the person he actually has feelings for so what about charlie x reader where reader has been waiting since before they graduated for him to ask her out and as soon as she decides to move on charlie gets all sad and jealous and confesses and yknow how it goes
Would love to see this in a fic ♡
Not a fic blog (maybe someday), but I can give you a headcanon (so, shorter and no dialogue) though… I did get a bit inspired, so its longer than my usual writing
I think as a teen he was the sort of person to try and prove he’s popular with people. It would feel bad to lump you in with that. Like, he actually liked you, so it's different. Not that he has no respect for people he flirts with, but he knows it isn't anything serious. He was just a teen guy trying to impress his friends and get the experience he was prevented from getting (with his strict school and all). Especially with his position in the friend group and all.
Still, he hoped to have something serious with you one day. One day when he gets the courage, when he feels like it will work out and he won't jeopardize the whole friend group because of his crush.
But that day didn't come when he was at Welton. Then he had other things to worry about, considering his departure from the school. It was a hard time for everybody. But no matter the odds the poets kept in touch, as much as they could. And that included you.
Only, as years passed you started losing hope. I mean, if he wanted to he would, right? It felt so helplessly pathetic to be waiting for Charlie when it seemed that he had never and will never return your feelings.
When you were younger, it felt like the end of the world. Like you were destined to be alone. Oh, how many nights you’ve spent with Knox, wallowing in self-pity after Chris left him. Just sitting there with your buddy, talking about how you should go to a monastery. Not out of a spiritual need, but because there would be no one ever to love you. Guess you were a bit dramatic back then. It took Pitts many tries to smack some sense into you but you matured eventually.
When college approached, you were ready to meet new people. Although you weren't in the same school together anymore, you made a promise with the poets to keep seeing each other regularly.
Meanwhile, you met Mark. A true romantic soul with quite a witty humour. And Jack who would always treat you so sweetly and had the same interests as you. And Adam who walked you to the dorms every day. And Matt who had so much passion for life. You opened yourself up to people. Started meeting up with others.
Suddenly, you’d bring up your dates every meeting. Not to rub it in, just to recall funny moments. Like when a rainstorm caught you and Jack in the middle of a walk and you raced to the dorms. Or how you and Adam got lost in the park at night because neither of you lived in that city before. Knox would encourage you to spill every detail.
Surprisingly, the more you talked about your love life, the less you heard Charlie talk about his. By winter break you haven't heard him talk about any girl in weeks. At first you didn't notice. Then you figured that maybe he just fell for someone who wasn't as easy to charm so he didn't have anything to brag about yet.
The thought of him being so head over hills for this unnamed person made something inside you feel empty. You knew the feeling well from high school and you detested yourself for still having those sorts of thoughts and feelings. But you decided to let it all fizzle out.
You had better things to think about too. There was a ball coming around. Some fancy tradition at your university. Before you knew it, you had quite a few invitations. The sweetest one was from Jack.
He told you to close your eyes and open your palm. Then, he handed you a handcrafted note asking if you'd like to go with him. Later that day you found another one in your pocket (so that's why he told you to close your eyes) telling you he’s grateful to have you in his life. It was perfect. And officially approved by Knox Overstreet!
When you recounted the story, the guys were pretty happy for you. Before anyone could get a word in, Charlie suddenly asked if you were planning to go with Jack. Sincerely, you affirmed. Why not? He was the sweetest guy and you certainly were done moping around. I mean, you knew that Charlie wasn't going to change his mind so you could as well see if you end up liking someone else.
To your surprise, Charlie wasn't as ecstatic as the rest of the poets. He was rather skeptical and even a bit snarky. Commenting on the guy and just being so… weird about it. It angered you to no end because softly rejecting you is one thing. But trying to get in the way of you moving on? That didn't sit right with you. But your drama queen days were over, so you didn't walk off or anything. Just huffed and looked for a way to change the topic.
At the same time Charlie was thinking. Before college it was easy to reassure himself that he had all the time he wanted to make you his. And all the time he wanted to decide if he would do that at all. Everything was easier back when you didn't talk about any guys. Ever. Now he felt like he had to do something. Damn the risk of ruining the friend group. Damn the fear of rejection. And damn Knox for encouraging this mess.
The last thing you expected was for Charlie to get up suddenly. The poets all looked at him confused. When he stood up, his eyes met yours and he asked you to talk with him outside. Honest to Gods, you had no idea what that was about. But he was being dramatic (more so than usual) and something about the determination in his eyes told you to follow your friend outside. It was snowing and only buildings around you somewhat shielded you from the cold wind.
Charlie didn't waste time choosing words. For the first time when talking to a girl, he was completely raw. Just as it hit him, he blurted out his confession. No overplayed charm. No smirks and winks and cheap tricks. Just him. Charlie Dalton telling you that he likes you. That he had liked you for some time. That you should just, please, think about it.
As the last word fell from his mouth, a heavy silence fell between you. Silence colder than the wind and the snow. But Charlie stood there, undeterred, waiting to see the answer in your eyes. Even at his most frantic, he was confident. He understood that he did what he did, what it meant, and that he grasped this last chance by a miracle. There was no turning back now.
Your response first came muffled, as if the falling snowflakes were absorbing your voice. But finally, you confessed. Not without telling him, how long he made you wait. And how stupid he was acting, if he really just ignored his feelings for this long.
Your talk was tender, full of relief. But, as it happens with Charlie, as soon as the talk of real feelings was out of the way, he dragged you back inside, to announce your happy ending.
You couldn't believe he wanted to brag to your friends at a moment like this. But you just stood there, watching him with a smile. Some things never changed. Charlie certainly didn't. And you wouldn't have it any other way
#fun fact none of those ppl are made up#I just described a few guys from school that I've been talking to#same with the note situation lol#what makes it funnier is that I am in fact going with Jack and he heavily relates to Knox#so while I gave you the watered down version you can imagine the pizazz this guy had when inviting me#that's why I had to add the Knox approved part#they are literalky the same person#dps x reader#charlie dalton#charlie dalton x reader#dead poets society x reader#x reader
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Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 16a
*Warning Adult Content*
Ambush - Part 1
- Knox -
When Knox finally makes it out front, his brothers are already sitting on their bikes with their ski masks on, ready to go.
"Do I even need to ask why you're late?" Gavin calls out, starting his motorcycle.
Knox says nothing while mounting his bike and slipping his mask on.
"Yeah, I figured it was the kid."
Knox scowls.
"Don't."
Gavin chuckles.
"Let's ride."
They zoom through the property gates like bats out of hell, adrenaline pumping through their veins.
Knox tries to keep his mind focused on the task at hand but with it being an hour long drive to the dock, his mind occasionally drifts back to Everett.
Asking little questions like is he okay?
Is he tucked away somewhere crying and cursing Knox's guts?
Have his feelings changed after their big argument?
And that kiss in the kitchen...
What the fuck possessed him to kiss Everett like that?
The look on Josie's face was telling.
Everyone knows it by now, don't they?
How much of a goner Knox is over Everett, a boy he's known for less than ninety days.
A foul-mouthed, stubborn piece of work who repeatedly pushes his buttons without consequence.
Yeah, Knox is a fucking goner all right.
"Fifteen out," Levi, the road captain, gathers everyone's attention when he speaks through the headset in his Bluetooth helmet, a helpful new gadget that Mason had recently suggested they purchase, alerting everyone that they're getting closer to Hickory Springs.
He holds his right fist in the air moments later before turning right onto an unmarked dirt road.
No one questions him.
It's his job to know all the shortcuts and hidden entrances and exits inside and outside of town and especially when they're venturing into someone else's territory.
It makes their rides a hell of a lot smoother most of the time.
As they slow to a stop near an abandoned cabin in the middle of a deeply wooded area, the van where Oz's weapons will be temporarily stored for safekeeping, parks behind them.
Gavin orders the driver to stick around and watch over the bikes, then Levi leads everyone up a new path a few feet away.
It takes them up a steep hill that looks out over the entire area where the shipment is set to arrive, making it the perfect vantage point.
They're hidden by trees while also being provided with a full view of the lake and dock, granting them access to see The Jackals every move once they arrive.
"This is a damn good spot, Levi. Remind me to buy you a bottle on the way back," Gavin says, keeping his voice low.
Levi grunts his approval in response.
"We can't all sit up here. We need to spread out and corner the bastards at all sides. Only one of them will leave here alive tonight," he then says to Knox... "You need to give some kind of a signal after you figure out who the leader of the group is so we can avoid shooting him when the shit hits the fan."
"I'll mark him with my laser," Knox says, flashing one of his modded guns. "You all should be able to see it from up here."
"If they can't, then I will," Harry, the sniper of the group, adds.
"Perfect. Problem solved." Gavin looks around and asks... "Who's volunteering to go down?"
Knox doesn't wait to see who follows him but he knows Finn isn't too far behind.
Wherever Knox goes, Finn usually follows.
The two of them decide to take cover behind a fallen tree located a few feet away from the dock, their black outfits allowing them to blend in with the darkness of the night.
"What are you carrying?" Knox asks quietly, his eyes forward and surveying the area still.
"I carry what I always carry, the best of the best shit." Finn smirks, showing off the various guns and knives attached to his body.
"Everything has a silencer on it, in case you were wondering. I didn't forget this time."
"Good," Knox mutters.
He spots a handful of his brothers spreading out nearby, some lying low in the tall weeds and others hiding behind thick trees and bushes.
They're all wearing bulletproof vests but Knox remains on edge because that won't stop a bullet to the head.
"So..." Finn starts. "How'd the kid take you having to leave?"
"Change the subject," Knox warns.
"You know you can always come talk to me about these things, right?" Finn continues, ignoring Knox's obvious discomfort with the topic. "Relationships in our line of work can be a bitch to navigate. And it doesn't help when you and your person come from different backgrounds..."
"Enough," Knox snaps. "Change the fucking subject."
Finn rolls his eyes, laughing to himself.
"Okay, asshole. How much time we got?" Knox checks his watch.
"Twenty minutes. They should be arriving soon. Don't act until I do."
"Copy that," Finn says.
The Jackals arrive fashionably late at approximately 10:45 PM.
They come in two small boats, each carrying a total of three people.
They're clearly outnumbered but Knox refuses to call it a win for The Fallen Angels until after he picks out the leader and the rest are killed.
His brothers up above and below sit tight as The Jackals secure the boats to the rickety dock and then they begin to unload several duffle bags that are presumably filled with illegal weapons.
Only one man is yelling out orders the entire time.
He's tall with a wide build and a buzzcut.
His weapon of choice is an AK-47 and at the moment, it's slung over his back.
Unlike The Fallen Angels, The Jackals are all wearing their cuts tonight.
Bikers usually don't leave their clubhouse without it on but it was a dumbass idea for Russell to send his men out like that because it very easily reveals their identity to the public, aka the police.
Common knowledge states that when one goes out to commit a crime with friends, it isn't smart to advertise the gang that you belong to, hence why Gavin ordered everyone to leave their cuts at home.
Russell's stupidity, however, works out in Knox's favor.
He can see the SGT at Arms patch on the back of the man's cut, telling his rank and level of importance.
His fate is sealed.
When the man isn't looking in Knox's direction, Knox briefly points his laser at his back while his men are preoccupied.
The man later instructs his team to pack the guns through the woods and up the same path that Knox used to come down to the dock.
For obvious reasons, Knox can't allow that to happen.
Gavin is riding on the same wavelength, so he whistles for his men to release hell.
Bullets stream in from all sides, leaving The Jackals with little time to react to the ambush.
They drop dead like flies but the leader remains untouched.
Well, everything apart from his mangled hands, which Knox had specifically been aiming at during the shootout to prevent the man from using his gun.
Knox rushes over to the screaming Jackal currently cursing up a storm while down on his knees, tears and sweat streaming down his pale face as he stares at pieces of his fingers on the ground.
"Who the fuck are you...?"
"We'll talk later."
Knox knocks him out with one punch.
His brothers flank in and grab the duffle bags while Knox and Finn carry No Name back up the path.
They barely make it ten feet when extra shots ring out from behind them.
There was another boat.
"Fuck, I'm hit," someone yells from nearby.
Knox and Finn exchange a quick look before dropping No Name and taking immediate cover behind a tree.
"I counted five of them," Finn talks fast while replacing the magazine on his gun.
It takes seconds for two bodies to fall from somewhere off in the distance, the heavy thump against the ground letting him know they won't be getting back up again.
"Three now. I hope they weren't any of our men... otherwise, shout-out to Harry."
"Less talking, more shooting."
Knox peeks from around the tree when the opposing gunfire quiets down.
He spots one Jackal crawling his way toward No Name's unconscious body but the two others remain out of sight.
"Fuck it."
He makes the executive decision to shoot the Jackal that he can see.
He raises his gun to fire but Finn beats him to it.
"That was my kill, you little shit."
"Mine now, old man. You move too slow," Finn laughs.
It dies quickly when he turns to his right at the sound of movement approaching him and Knox.
His response time is slow because he wrongfully assumes it's one of his brothers coming up to check on them.
"Shit," the same reflexes he used to taunt Knox suddenly fail him after identifying the stranger as their enemy.
"One on my right..." Knox doesn't think.
He reacts.
He roughly grabs Finn by his vest and tosses him to the ground out of harm's way.
Knox raises his weapon on beat with the Jackal glaring at him.
Time seems to slow itself as they shoot each other simultaneously, Knox's bullet going between the man's eyes.
He ignores the burning sensation coming from his left bicep as he bends down to check on Finn.
Gavin finally calls the all-clear after the last Jackal is killed seconds later.
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Dead Poets Society: The Story
Dead Poets Society opens in a pretty traditional way: with the first day of school.
It’s the beginning of a fresh school year for transfer student Todd Anderson (Ethan Hawke), new, shy kid on the block at Welton Academy, a prestigious prep-school for boys, located in Vermont. At the opening ceremony, older recruits march through a church, down the aisles full of other students, carrying banners that display the words: Tradition, Discipline, Honor, and Excellence. New students light candles, and, most importantly, headmaster Nolan takes to the podium to welcome the new students, and shy, quiet Todd Anderson sits in the pew, looking nervous as Headmaster Nolan begins his speech, discussing the four Pillars of the school, the prestigious nature of the establishment, and introducing the new English teacher: John Keating (Robin Williams).
The panel of teachers, sitting behind Nolan, is notably older and grayer than Keating, who, while not a terribly young man, is considerably more lively and animated than his new colleagues. This will be important later, but not right now. (Spoilers below!)
After the ceremony, the courtyard in front of the school is full of parents saying goodbye to their sons. It is here that we learn something interesting about Todd: he has, as Nolan puts it, “big shoes to fill” . As it turns out, Todd’s older brother was a student here, and a pretty good one. Even more nervous, Todd files out of the courtyard with the rest of the students, where we meet Todd’s to-be roomate: Neil Perry (Robert Sean Leonard).
Neil Perry seems to be Todd’s complete opposite in personality. He’s confident, and out-going, and is expected by Nolan to be doing ‘great things’ this year. He takes Todd up to their dorm room, and there, Todd meets Neil’s friends: Knox Overstreet (Josh Charles), Richard Cameron (Dylan Kussman), Stephen Meeks (Allelon Ruggiero), Gerard Pitts (James Waterson), and Charlie Dalton (Gale Hansen). The boys get comfortable in Neil and Todd’s room, teasing Neil for being made to take chemistry courses over the summer. The laid-back nature of the introductions is cut short, however, by a knock at the door.
It’s Neil Perry’s father (Kurtwood Smith).
Mr. Perry tells Neil that he has spoken to Mr. Nolan, and has cut all of Neil’s extra-curricular activities for the year, including the school yearbook, as he doesn’t want Neil distracted from the end-goal of medical school. Neil tries to argue, but is quickly shot down.
After Mr. Perry leaves, the other boys encourage Neil to stand up to his father, but he refuses, resigned to doing what he’s told. The other boys leave, inviting Todd to join them for a Latin study group the next day.
The next day, on the first true day of classes, the boys pass through lesson after lesson, taught by wizened, distinguished men who bore their students to tears.
And then comes English class.
Mr. Keating enters the room, passes his entire classroom, and heads for the opposite door, telling his class to follow him. Confused, the class obeys.
Keating takes them out to the hallway, encouraging them to look at the case full of pictures of Welham alumnus, and tells them that those who first attended Welton, explaining that these people who were once young, are now old, or even dead.
“Carpe diem, seize the day. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.”
He also recites to them some poetry:
“O Captain, my Captain. Who knows where that comes from? Anybody? Not a clue? It’s from a poem by Walt Whitman about Mr. Abraham Lincoln. Now in this class you can either call me Mr. Keating, or if you’re slightly more daring, O Captain my Captain.”
After class, Cameron remarks that Keating seems rather odd, but the rest of the boys seem to like him, or at least, find him interesting. While the boys hit the showers, Knox reveals that he has to attend a dinner at the Danburys’ (whoever they are, more on that later) explaining that he can’t meet to study with them tonight. The boys pick on him a little and then invite Todd, who doesn’t seem to be on board for the plan.
That night, the boys meet to study, and Knox comes in late, elated. See, he’s met the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen: Chris. The bad news is that she’s engaged to a guy named Chet, but that doesn’t seem to deter Knox that much. He remains completely smitten.
The next day, Keating’s class remains as unconventional as the day before. This is no course where the first class is fun and then it’s down to business the next day: Keating seems to mean business about seizing the day.
He opens class by requesting that Cameron reads the first page of the introduction of their poetry book, an introduction about how to rate a poem’s ‘greatness score’. As he reads, Keating writes on the board, allowing him to reach the end of the page before telling Cameron, and the rest of the class, to rip out the introduction.
At first, the class hesitates, but after a moment, many of the students gleefully obey. As they tear out the pages, another teacher, Mr. McAllister stops to investigate. Keating explains that he is teaching the boys to think for themselves, to enjoy the use of language and the power of words.
“No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.”
The boys contemplate this as Keating adds:
“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”
At dinner, McAllister sits next to Keating and chastises him warningly about his choice to educate the boys to think for themselves, encouraging them to be creative.
“Show me the heart unfettered by foolish dreams and I’ll show you a happy man,” McAllister quotes.
Keating smiles and replies with a verse of his own: “But only in their dreams can men be truly free. ‘Twas always thus, and always thus will be.”
At their own table, the boys unearth an old yearbook, searching for Mr. Keating’s page. They learn that he was involved in a group called the ‘Dead Poets Society’.
Curiosity piqued, the boys ask Keating about the Dead Poets Society after dinner. Keating explains that it was a secret society, inspired by the words of Henry David Thoreau to ‘suck the marrow out of life’. This group would gather in a nearby cave and read poetry aloud, and write some of their own.
Neil suggests to the rest of the boys in private that they should revive the Dead Poets Society and meet that night. In his room, he finds a book called Five Centuries of Verse, with an inscription from Keating: the opening to every Dead Poets Society meeting.
“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived.”
That night, the boys all sneak out of the school and meet in the caves. Neil begins the meeting, reading the opening, and then the group takes turns reading poems and talking, getting progressively more spirited. After a while, they conclude, heading back to the school and singing.
The next day, in English class, Mr. Keating shows the boys how to read Shakespeare: not dull and stuffy, but full of life, (doing impressions of Marlon Brando and John Wayne to illustrate) and then does something even stranger.
Keating climbs onto his desk and asks the class why he does this. Charlie suggests that it is to feel taller.
“No! Thank you for playing, Mr. Dalton. I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way.”
With that, Keating encourages his class, one at a time, to stand on his desk, looking at the room from a different perspective. As class comes to a close, Keating announces that the boys are to write, and then read aloud, their own poems, privately telling Todd that he is quite aware how much this assignment must scare him.
In his room, Todd attempts to write a poem as Neil bursts in, full of excitement. He has discovered a flier for a community play of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and intends to try out, realizing that he wants to be an actor. He says:
“For the first time in my whole life, I know what I wanna do! And for the first time, I’m gonna do it! Whether my father wants me to or not! Carpe diem!”
The next class, Keating takes the boys out to the field, handing them each a line of poetry. He begins an exercise where each boy must read aloud the line before running up and kicking a ball, one after another, while he plays classical music. Directly after, Neil blazes through the dorm, shouting that he’s secured the part in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, his enthusiasm undaunted by the fact that his father will never write the approval letter necessary. He forges the necessary letter from his father for the theater and the school principal as Todd looks on.
It is the next English class, and it is time to read the poems from the class. Knox, who has ridden his bike to Chris’s school to watch her at least once, reads aloud a poem dedicated to her. Other students read, and finally, it comes time for Todd’s turn.
Todd, as it turns out, hasn’t written a poem.
Undaunted, Keating brings Todd to the front of the class, covering his eyes and encouraging him, helping him create a poem on the spot. Todd’s spontaneous poem brings the class to applause, and Mr. Keating moves the class outside for some more ‘poetry in motion’.
At this point in the story, we’ve got a lot of information about quite a few characters.
Protagonists Todd and Neil, originally apparently the opposites of one another, are similar in pressures from home: Todd to be like his older brother, and Neil to follow the carefully laid plan that his father has set out for him. Neil is already moving outside of that plan, pursuing acting, and Todd, with some encouragement, manages to come up with an intense poem in front of an entire class, despite his shyness.
Even the other boys in the group have unique characterization: Charlie, the anything-for-a-joke class clown, Knox, the hopeless romantic, and Cameron, the reluctant tag-along. (Meeks and Pitts are there too, but they have far less screen time and personality than the rest of the DPS.) We as an audience are watching their growth and personal arcs after the catalyst that is John Keating.
Oddly enough, Keating is the main character that we spend the least amount of time with, and know the least about. We don’t know a lot about his home life, or what his background is, or what his thoughts are. All we see is his direct influence on the boys at the school, and his unintentional inspiration to restart the Dead Poets Society.
Speaking of which:
At the next Dead Poets Society meeting, Knox seems uneasy, announcing that he’s going to kill himself if he can’t be with Chris, and leaves the meeting to call her. The boys follow, cheering him on, as he makes the call, hanging up at first, before working up his nerve (Carpe Diem) to call her again. Chris invites Knox to a party, saying she was thinking about calling him, and elated, Knox accepts the invitation.
The next night is the night of the party. Knox heads off to the Danbury house, where he’s swallowed up by a rowdy crowd of teenagers. Soon enough, Knox (and everybody else) is at varying levels of intoxicated. Inhibitions loosened, Knox kisses the forehead of a passed-out Chris, enraging her boyfriend and starting a fight, ending the party abruptly.
Meanwhile, Todd is given the exact same birthday present as last year: a desk set that he didn’t even like, yet another sign of his parents not really paying attention to him. Neil, noticing Todd’s disappointment, cheers him up, throwing the desk set off the roof, before taking him to another Dead Poets Society Meeting, where Charlie (now insisting on being called Nuwanda) has brought girls in to impress them with poetry.
Charlie also announces that he published an article in the school newspaper demanding that girls be admitted to Welton, signing it the Dead Poets Society. The rest of the group is justifiably angry, afraid that this will put the school’s administration onto them.
Sure enough, at an assembly, Headmaster Nolan demands to know which of the students was responsible for the article. At first, none of the students come clean, until a phone rings.
Charlie picks it up, and announces that it’s from God, saying they should admit girls to Welton.
This prank inevitably ends with Charlie getting paddled in the Headmaster’s office (1959, remember?) and threatened with expulsion. Nolan wants the names of the other members of the Dead Poets Society, but Charlie won’t tell.
After dismissing Charlie, Nolan calls Keating in, questioning him about his teaching methods. Keating explains that he’s trying to teach the boys individualism.
“I always thought the idea of education was to learn to think for yourself.”
“At these boys’ age? Not on your life!”
Afterwards, Keating approaches the boys, specifically Charlie, and gently scolds him for his stunt.
“There’s a time for daring and there’s a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for,” he says, explaining that being stupid is not the same as being an individual.
This is a common theme of the entire story, actually. As much as Keating encourages free-thinking and exploration of ideas, he knows the difference between bucking authority for the sake of it versus nonconformity. Each of the boys is exploring this aspect in their own way, from Todd’s slow-growing confidence to Neil’s direct disobedience of his father’s oppressive plan to Charlie’s defiance, even to Cameron’s caution against ‘disobeying rules’. Dead Poets Society is a story about encouraging people to think for themselves, but to be wise about what they do once they start, and while some are more obvious than others (Charlie’s foolishness and Knox’s overzealousness contrasted with Cameron’s blind following of ‘the rules’, all portrayed as kind of problematic), some examples are more ambiguous.
Such is the case with Neil.
After a rehearsal for the play, Neil comes back to his dorm to find his father, very displeased with him. He’s incredibly angry about Neil joining the play, and instructs him to quit the play the next morning, the same day as the first performance. Upset, Neil goes to Mr. Keating’s office to ask him for advice.
Keating listens to him, and suggests trying to talk to his father, for Neil to show him how passionate he is about acting so that he will allow him to do the play, encouraging him to come to his father earnestly before the play.
On a slightly lighter note, Knox enters Chris’s high school and follows her to class with flowers, trying to apologize for the previous night. She’s understandably embarrassed and tells him that her boyfriend, Chet, is still upset with Knox and is out to get him. Undeterred, Knox follows her into class and reads a poem about Chris aloud, in front of all of her classmates.
Remember what I said about ‘wise’ ways to deal with free thinking?
A little later, Neil lies to Keating, telling him that he’s talked to his father, and that he’s allowed to stay in the play.
The next night, Keating and the boys prepare to go see Neil perform, with Chris even turning up and deciding to accompany Knox to the play. It’s well worth it. Neil is in his element, comfortable and dynamic on stage, and his classmates and teacher cheer him on, awestruck by his talent.
Before the last monologue, Neil spots his father, entering the theater. Clearly daunted, he goes out and sells his final monologue anyway, to the wild applause of the audience.
All but his father.
After the performance, Neil’s father brings him home, informing him that he is being pulled out of Welton, and enrolled into a military school, immediately followed by medical school. Neil attempts to argue, to plead his case, but his father shuts him down, and Neil stops arguing.
Later that night, after his parents go to bed, Neil sneaks into his parents’ room wearing his costume, opens the drawer, taking his father’s gun, before retreating to his father’s study and killing himself.
It is right here that the movie goes from a good, even average film about ‘seizing the day’ and living life to the fullest, to a great movie about the consequences of doing it.
In another movie, Neil’s father would have seen the performance and realized his son was right. Or if he hadn’t, Neil would have finally stood up for himself, and his parents might have seen the light.
In another film, Neil wouldn’t have died. Especially not like that.
It is this moment, this gear-switch, that the audience is forced to contend with the implications, the fallout of these actions, and that sometimes, even ‘seizing the day’ is impossible, depending on your circumstances.
It’s not an easy idea to swallow. It’s not one we’re used to in movies. But it’s here, nonetheless.
Back at Welton, the boys tearfully wake Todd up to tell him the news. Upset, Todd runs out into the snow, as the boys follow. He remarks on how beautiful the snow is before throwing up and breaking down, rushing into the snow alone. In the classroom, Mr. Keating paces empty desks, arriving at Neil’s and removing the poetry book he left for him with the Dead Poets Society inscription.
The next morning, it turns out that the fallout affects more than Neil.
Headmaster Nolan announces that he intends to conduct an investigation into what happened. The boys gather to talk as Nolan interrogates Cameron, the rule-abider. The remaining Dead Poets are certain that Cameron is going to sell them out, and sure enough, that’s exactly what he does. Cameron enters, telling the group that he told them everything, and that they all should too, as it’s too late to save Keating, but not to save themselves.
Charlie reacts to this by punching Cameron in the face, getting him expelled.
The next boy called in is Todd, who enters Nolan’s office to find his parents there, too. Nervously, he sits as Nolan tries to get Todd to sign a document blaming Mr. Keating for Neil’s death. Todd glances at the page: the rest of the Dead Poets have signed too.
Later, in English class, Headmaster Nolan arrives and announces that he will be teaching until they can find a permanent replacement for Keating. As he opens class (encouraging people to read the ‘excellent’ ripped out introduction from the book) Keating enters the room to collect his things. After long moments of silence of the boys keeping their heads down as Keating gathers his belongings, Todd finally breaks, calling out to Mr. Keating and telling him that the school forced them to sign the confession.
As Nolan tries to get him to sit down, Todd shouts out: “O Captain, My Captain”, and stands on his desk. Many other students follow, one by one, as Keating tearfully watches.
Keating gratefully thanks the boys, and the film ends on a closeup of Todd’s face, after he’s finally stood up for himself, and seized the day.
Make no mistake, this is not a happy ending. Keating is forced to leave the school. Neil has taken his own life, trapped into a lifetime he didn’t want. Charlie has been expelled, and it’s likely the rest of the boys will be too. This is a movie based on, and ending with, great uncertainty. Not every boy stood up. Not everyone is coming out of this okay.
The question is, what are we supposed to take away from this?
The message of the film, the core theme that people remember, is Seize the Day. And yet, of those who ‘Seize the Day’, very few come out of it unscathed, if any. Instead, people are left with heartbreak, making bad decisions or, even if the decisions may have been morally ‘right’, or what they felt they had to do, consequences must follow. Charlie’s overzealous sense of humor and bucking of authority gets him expelled. Knox’s over-the-top romanticization of Chris nearly drives her away and gets him in trouble. Neil kills himself because the restricting nature of his family won’t allow him to ‘Seize the Day’.
And Todd?
Todd finally speaks out, but too late to fix any of the damage.
Despite the focus on Mr. Keating in most of the promotional material, the protagonist of the movie is, of course, Todd. Once Neil dies, Todd is who we are left with, and it is Todd who changes from shy boy who won’t speak out to the leader of a final daring farewell to a teacher that changed his life. He’s the one that grows. He changes.
It’s just too little too late.
The story of Dead Poets Society is a sobering one, and not exactly a story you’d expect. The first two-thirds could have been part of any typical, ‘feel good’ teen drama about self-discovery, but the last third takes expectations and turns them on their head. This is real life: it doesn’t always work out. People get fired for trying to do the right thing. Parents don’t see the harmful impact they have on their children. People value rules and tradition over the dreams of the young.
It is in this devastating third act that Dead Poets Society earns its place as a classic: by refusing to allow the cliched beginnings to define its ending.
It would have been so easy to allow Neil to convince his father to allow him to act. It would have been simple to allow Keating to change the mind of the establishment, for the Dead Poets to take Welton by storm.
But real life doesn’t always work out like that. Sometimes, the way we go about ‘seizing the day’ can end badly depending on our circumstances and the wisdom in the method we choose. The film isn’t telling us how to do it right. It’s showing you the lives of people who did it wrong, or at least, who seized the day, tried to make their lives extraordinary, and failed, due to many different reasons.
But.
That doesn’t mean we should stop trying.
For every failure, for every mistake (Neil sneaking to do the play, Charlie’s pranks, etc.), Todd’s example stands above and beyond. Yes, he might get into trouble. But this moment, this act of telling a beloved teacher that his work was not in vain, that his students will remember him, that he was not to blame, feels right. This is what he is supposed to do.
We cheer for that moment, we feel the weight of the movie lift just a smidge, because in the end, we have to seize the day. We have to try to make our lives extraordinary, but we have to find the right way to do it, the wise way to do it.
Because, for all of the mistakes made, Keating is right: Words and ideas will change the world. It is up to us how to use them, when to use daring, or caution, and in the end, try to find the meeting place between doing what is right, and doing what is true to yourself.
The ending is uncertain, yes. But it’s the only satisfying ending that an honest movie could give us.
Dead Poets Society is an emotional story, bringing up questions about non-conformity and following the rules that go beyond a surface: ‘yes or no’. A gripping story full of great performances, a warm atmosphere, and immortal dialogue, Dead Poets Society will continue to be a testament to words as long as we care to use them.
In the articles ahead, we’re going to be taking a look at some of the other important elements of Dead Poets Society, so if you enjoyed this one, stick around and join us! Don’t forget to leave a comment, like, or some other form of love if you enjoyed it, and follow for more! Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you in the next article.
#1989#80s#Dead Poets Society#Dead Poets Society 1989#Comedy#Drama#Dylan Kussman#Ethan Hawke#Film#Gale Hansen#Josh Charles#Kurtwood Smith#Movies#Peter Weir#PG#Robert Sean Leonard#Robin Williams
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ORIGINAL CHRISTIANITY? BY STEVE FINNELL
Are the Christians today the same as the first century Christians? Do contemporary Christians believe the New Testament, as it was
originally written or do they believe it is a living, breathing document? All Scripture contain in the Bible was completed by AD 100 .
Jude 1:3 Beloved, while I was making every effort to write you about our common salvation, I felt the necessity to write to you appealing that you contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all handed down to the saints. (NKJV) (NOTE: Jude was written in AD 65 )
The common salvation was handed down to all the Christians. There was not a new faith handed down nor was the faith amended to fit the will of individual churches.
Acts 2:42 They continually devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching...(NKJV)
They did not devote themselves the teaching of the scribes, the Pharisees nor the Judaizers.
2 Timothy 3:16-17 All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; 17 so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work. (NKJV)
The apostles doctrine was all Scripture. That was all that was needed for teaching. The original Christians not need the doctrine of the Roman Catholic catechism, the writings of John Calvin, Martin Luther, John Knox, Charles Spurgeon, nor John Wesley in order to know and practice God's truth, that was presented by the apostles.
Acts 20:27 For I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole purpose of God. (NKJV)
The apostle Paul knew the whole purpose of God, he did not have to consult with Billy Graham, the Pope, Rick Warren, Max Lucado, nor John Piper.[NOTE: None of those even understand the correct terms of pardon.]
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Revelation after the first 100 years of, original Christianity, is not found in the Bible; because everything Christians need for faith and practice in found in the 66 books of the Bible.
Proverbs 30:6 Do not add to His words Or He will reprove you, and you will be proved a liar. (NKJV)
DOCTRINES ADDED TO GOD'S WORD
1. Water baptism is not essential for salvation.
2. Water baptism is for a testimony of faith, not in order to the forgiveness of sins.
3. Men are saved by grace alone. God causes men whom He has selected for salvation to have faith so they will be saved.
4. Sprinkling and pouring are just other modes of baptism.
5. Men are saved by faith alone. Immersion in water is a work, therefore is not required in order to be saved.
6. All men are sinners at conception because Adam and Eve sinned. Non-believing infants can have the sin of Adam as well as all future sins wash away by being baptized. In other words sin can be forgiven without faith in Jesus Christ.
7. Jesus is one of many ways to enter heaven.
8. Men can live a unrepentant sinful lifestyle and still enter the kingdom of God.
9. God approves of many denominations, even though they teach different terms of pardon.
10. Denominations have the right to man-made doctrines even if they are contrary to Scripture, because God will not judge sincere people.
Pos
Speaking In Tongues
GEORGE L. FAULL
Dear Brother Faull,It is my understanding that you do not practice "Speaking in tongues." Why?Let me give you the reasons why I do not wish to "speak in tongues."
1. I could not defend it as having practical value.
It does not prove that I am saved, nor that I'm spiritual, nor that I have the truth, for men of every creed claim this gift.
2. I could not defend it as an aid to devotions.
It does not do anything the Holy Spirit does not do for every believer. He searches out our unspeakable requests and make intercession for us.
Romans 8:26-27,
"26 Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. 27 And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what [is] the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to [the will of] God."
3. I could not defend it as a sign for unbelievers.
If I do it publicly, men of all conflicting doctrines do the same. If I do it in my prayer closet, how will the unbeliever know of it?
4. I could not defend its "continual existence" from the Word of God.
The Scriptures neither imply nor promise the continuance of the gift, but, in fact, states that they will cease while faith, and hope yet abide.
I Corinthians 13:8-13,
"8 Charity never faileth: but whether [there be] prophecies, they shall fail; whether [there be] tongues, they shall cease; whether [there be] knowledge, it shall vanish away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I under-stood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these [is] charity."
5. I could not defend its "continual existence" from Church History.
History records that the gifts did cease. History records when and how the gift was supposedly revived. History records the deceitfulness of the modern day movement to increase the supposed gift among churches.
6. I could not defend its "continual existence" by commonsense.
Since prophecy and divine knowledge have ceased, [I neither know, nor know of anyone with these gifts] commonsense assumes that the lesser gift has ceased.
7. I could not defend its "continual existence" by the clichés of modern tongue speakers.
Clichés such as:
"God is the same yesterday, today, and forever."
"God does not change."
"He could do it, therefore, He does do it."
"He once did it, and therefore, He is doing it."
Doesn't our God ever do anything singular or unique? Is He still making women out of man's ribs? Have you seen any world wide floods lately? Are there still virgins having babies?
8. I could not defend it as "unifying the Body of Christ."
It is setting believer against believer. The only unity it promotes is unity of men of a thousand different conflicting doctrines agreeing to disagree. It may well be
Romans 8:26-27,
"26 Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered. 27 And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what [is] the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to [the will of] God."
9. I could not defend it in light of those who have "spoken in tongues," who now admit that it was not of God.
We are told that we cannot deny a man's experience. Can a man deny his own interpretation of his experience? He once thought that it was of God. He now concludes that it was not. Hundreds, who have spoken in tongues, now deny that the experience was of God. How can I defend that my experience was of God when others with the same experience admit that theirs was not of God?
10. I could not defend it "as a promise from God."
He did not promise it to me, therefore I cannot accept it by faith. I can accept salvation, forgiveness, and redemption by faith. These were promised to all believers. I believe the promises. I "enjoy" them because I believe the promises. I cannot accept tongues by faith because they were not promised to every believer.
I Corinthians 12:30,
"Have all the gifts of healing? Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret?"Therefore, my "feelings" about tongues may be imaginary rather than real.
11. I would not want to be a possessor of a gift that I had to hide.
Imagine having a gift for which you could not thank God publicly. If it is known that you possess tongues, YOU:
Cause division among your brethren.
Are suspected of false doctrine by those whom you know are Christian.
Lose opportunities for service with your real talents and abilities. I wouldn't want a billion dollars if it did those things to my witness.
12. I would not want to be a possessor of a gift which I could not know was genuine.
Who would want a diamond or a ruby if it could not be proven to be such? it would have no real value. It would cause only bickering, arguments, and debates. Since there is no way to tell the apostate's "tongue speaking" from mine, why should I want it?
13. There are more desirable gifts mentioned which would edify the Church.
If it is an aid to devotions, I would get the benefit. [Incidentally, Paul didn't say it was.] But if I could prophesy or heal, I would be able to help others. I would enjoy being the steward of such abilities as these, but I would find "tongue speaking" in private or public a difficult stewardship with no real value.
Conclusion:
Tongue speaking is therefore undesirable because it is unneeded, unhelpful, undefendable, and uncertain.Posted by
ARE WE ALL GOD'S CHILDREN? BY STEVE FINNELL
Are Muslims, Hindus, Christians, Jews, Buddhists, atheists, and all other men, God's children? No, they are not. They are all created by God, but they are not all God's children. God loves them all, but they are not all God's children.
Who are God's children? Christians are God's children.
Galatians 3:26-27 For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. 27 For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. (KJV)
Men become children of God by faith in Christ Jesus and being baptized into Him.
John 11-12 He came unto his own, and his own received him not. 12 But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name;(KJV)
The Jews who rejected Jesus as the Christ were not God's children. Those who believe in Jesus have the opportunity to become God's children.
GOD LOVES ALL MEN, HOWEVER, SALVATION IS CONDITIONAL.
Terms to become the children of God.
A. Faith: John 3:16
B. Repentance: Acts 2:38, Acts 3:19
C. Confession: Romans 10:9
C. Immersion in water: Mark 16:16, Acts 2:38, 1 Peter 3:21.
All men have the opportunity to become God's children. Galatians 3:28 There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for you all one in Christ Jesus.(KJV)
ALL MEN ARE NOT GOD'S CHILDREN, HOWEVER, THEY ALL CAN BE.
P
THE DOCTRINE OF FREE-WILL BY STEVE FINNELL
The teaching that men do not have free-will evolved from the false doctrine that men are saved by grace alone. There is not one place in the Bible that has grace and alone in the same sentence. If in fact men are saved by grace alone and have no free-will, there are many things that would be true.
If men have no free-will, then God would have to force men to have faith so they could be saved.
If men have no free-will, then God would have to force men to repent.
If men have no free-will, then God would have to force men to confess Jesus as the Christ.
If men have no free-will, then God would have to force men to be baptized for the forgiveness of their sins.
If men have no free-will, then God would be responsible for all of the sins of mankind.
If men have no free-will, why did the men on the Day of Pentecost ask "Brethren, what shall we do?" (Acts 2:37)
If men have no free-will, then why did the jailer ask Paul and Silas, "What must I do to be saved?" (Acts 16:30)
If men have no free-will, then why did Saul ask, "What shall I do Lord?" (Acts 22:10)
Titus 2:11 For the grace of God that brings salvation has appear has appeared to all men.
God's grace is available to all men. Grace is not forced nor is it denied to any man. MEN HAVE FREE-WILL!
BIBLE TRANSLATIONS BY STEVE FINNELL
The thought process of some Christians is puzzling to say the least. Why do some believers in Christ question that God has the power to guide men to translate Bibles that are inerrant, trustworthy, accurate, faultless, reliable, infallible.
Some of the same Christians who believe the following miracles of the Bible, doubt that God can produce an inerrant translation of the Bible.
They believe that Aaron's staff became a serpent. (Exodus 7:10-12) However they do not believe that translations of the Bible are trustworthy.
They believe Jesus was resurrected from the dead. (John 21:14) However they do not agree that Bible translations are inerrant.
They believe that the dead man Elisha stood up on his feet. (2 Kings 13:20-21) However they doubt that Bible translations are infallible.
They believe Jesus brought Lazarus back from the dead. (John 11:37-44) However they do not affirm that Bible translations are reliable.
They believe that God turned Lot's wife into a pillar of salt. (Genesis 19:26) However they are not convinced that God has given us a translation of the Bible that is accurate.
Even those who state that the King James translation is the only accurate translation, believe that Mark 16:16 does mean what is says: They say "Has been baptized shall be saved" actually means, "Has already been saved before they were baptized." The assert that Acts 2:38 actually means "Be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ because your sins have already been forgiven." They really do not trust the KJV either.
Ninety-nine percent of the Bible translations are accurate, trustworthy, inerrant translations of God's word.
A few of my favorites are New American Standard Bible, King James Version, New King James Version, English Standard Version, and New International Version. There are also many other reliable translations.
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Witch!Kurt #43: Reconnoiter
Burt Hummel eagerly offered his home as the coven’s headquarters when Kurt called him to explain that they were ready to move forward.
Though Kurt had made the call with the intention of convincing his family to leave town for a few days, just to be safe, his father insisted.
“Are you kidding? I was one of the people who fell hardest for Blaine’s fake charm and let that punk sink his claws into my son!” Burt protested hotly when Kurt attempted to tell him that leaving would be safer. “I didn’t listen when my step-son tried to tell me that he thought it was hinky that neither he or Carole were invited to that big hoohaw at Dalton, and that he didn’t understand why you’d agreed to marry someone you weren’t sure you trusted enough to date anymore. I didn’t pay any attention when kids you knew and loved started disappearing, dying, or becoming walking store mannequins. Blaine attacked this town, a town I’ve lived in and loved all my life, and he attacked my family. I’m damned well going to stick this one out with you, Kurt. End of discussion.”
“Dad, this…”
Burt cut him off. “No buts. This is your fight? That makes it my fight. And even if all I’m really equipped to do in this whole witchcraft game is supply house room to the band, I’d still rather do that than to be shut out and left wondering what’s happening. Besides, you’ve all warded this place strongly enough to make Fort Knox look like a piggy bank. Where would I possibly be safer?”
Kurt, remembering how badly Blaine’s magically charged charms had shaken the once solid father-son relationship, not to mention the harm he’d done to Finn, and by extension Carole, could not find it in his heart to argue. His coven had the power to move Burt Hummel out of harm’s way, whether he wanted to go or not, but he and his dad had worked hard these last few months to build and solidify that old bond into something even stronger, to respect and be honest with one another. Kurt had to trust that his dad could take care of himself, just as Burt was doing for him.
A vague part of him feeling amusement over his father’s continued habit of referring to his coven as ‘the band’, Kurt said in a deliberately meek tone, “Dad, I was just going to say that this is really generous of you, and that I think you’re right. I don’t think you’re to blame for what happened, but you do have a stake in this and if it makes you feel better to have us at the house, and to be in on the planning with us, then we’ll come. Thank you.”
“Oh,” Burt said, the righteous indignation fading to sheepish humor as he said, “Sorry. You’re welcome. Uh, when do you think you’ll be here?”
“Next week. Spring Break got delayed after all those storms shut everything down over the winter,” Kurt explained. “We decided that would be the best time. Lima high schools should have already had their Spring Break, so now would be the perfect time to look them over.”
And while this was not how most college students would want to spend their break, converging on a quiet little town in the middle of Ohio to play the role of magical exterminators, not one person in Kurt’s coven had balked at his suggestion. On the contrary, they had all agreed with enthusiasm that surprised him a little. Even with all the help they had given over the past six months, their support still occasionally caught him off guard.
“Great, we’ll be ready for you,” Burt said, sounding far more pleased than most men would at the prospect of having their home overrun by seven additional ‘kids’ and two more cat people.
~*~*~*~*~
A week later, having all arranged to miss a few days of work and other activities, the coven arrived in Lima, backpacks, duffels, sleeping bags, and suitcases in hand. Even those who had the option of staying somewhere less crowded had packed like they really were headed out on vacation somewhere. It made Kurt smile to hear them arguing over who would stay where, and what things they might do while in Ohio.
“Carole and I discussed it with the boys and we decided we’d put most of you down in the basement,” Burt Hummel said above the din of many chattering voices, bringing them to a halt as everyone looked at him. “It’s all finished up, with lights and carpeting and plenty of room.”
The family had spent the past few months renovating the previously unfinished space into a rec room, but then Burt and Carole had discussed it and decided instead to turn it into a new living space for Fam. The basement was large and well insulated, but it had been lacking the comforts of carpet, good lighting, and the finishing of an adjunct room that had been piped by the previous owner for an additional bathroom but never completed. Finishing it up had been a labor of love, and a way for Finn and Sam to feel useful and to have some control in their lives again, as well as a chance to bond anew with the grateful parents.
Kurt had given his Dad the idea for the project during a Skype, pointing out that Sam had once been quite a good handy-man, and knowing how much he himself had loved having the basement of the first Hummel home for his own during high school. It was neither safe nor practical for Sam and Finn to be out on their own for now, but at 22 years of age it also wasn’t fair for them to be living in a small upstairs bedroom under Burt and Carole’s very noses.
“You finished it?” he said, perking up with interest. “Nobody told me! How did it come out? What kind of carpet did you end up choosing? Did you use the privacy screens I suggested to block the laundry area off from the bedroom, or did you actually have to build a new wall?”
Grinning at his son’s eager questions, Burt gave into his impulse to give the bright-eyed young man another hug. No matter how good Kurt’s adult life in New York was, Burt never quite got over missing his little boy. And when Kurt was like this, clasping his hands and bouncing with enthusiasm, he became that little boy again. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?” he asked jovially, leading the way to a closed door next to the kitchen.
Burt, Kurt, Adam, and the rest of the curious coven trooped down a set of wide wooden steps, the latter making appropriate noises of appreciation when Burt flicked a wall switch and led them into a well lit space with a pull-out sofa bed, a couple of comfy looking lounge chairs, and a TV. The floor had been covered in thick, dark blue Berber carpeting, with the center living area covered with an additional wide area rug of tightly woven black and gray that matched the contrasting black and gray walls. It was a surprisingly sophisticated look for something that was to belong, in part, to Finn Hudson.
“This is very chic,” Adam said, not quite able to disguise the astonishment in his voice that told Kurt he had been thinking along the same lines. Adam did not know his new brothers-in-law (For he had come to think of Sam Evans as another of Kurt’s brothers.) very well yet, but he had already noted a distinct leaning toward ‘frat boy’ in both of them.
“It is,” Kurt agreed, looking around with interest and peeping into the laundry area, which had indeed been separated from the rest of the basement by a newly added wall and floored with tightly packed ceramic tiles.
The new laundry room had a door that made it accessible through the garage, so people would not be required to tromp through Fam’s private space to wash their clothes. Behind the laundry area lay the now-finished bathroom, and Kurt gave it an approving nod. They had sacrificed a little bit of bedroom space to expand the room, giving it a row of handsome wooden cabinets beneath the new sink, a glass-paneled shower, tile flooring, a new toilet and several shelves along the wall that were liberally stacked with towels, soaps, and various other hygiene products. There was a large cabinet mirror over the sink, a laundry hamper next to the shower, and even a cute little black iron rack with several reading selections next to the toilet.
Kurt noted that final addition with amusement, recalling his brother’s habit, a very annoying one when they had been sharing a bathroom, of spending what felt like ages reading through magazines while conducting his ‘morning business’. Undoubtedly, this touch had been Carole’s.
“This looks amazing. I have to admit, I was expecting a lot of beige, and way more football and rock posters on the walls,” he said with a smile.
“Maybe we’ll add some,” said Finn, coming downstairs to join the others and giving Kurt a friendly embrace. “We still have to move my old drum-kit out of the garage and put it in here. Mom couldn’t bear to give it away after I died. And Sam wants to put a rack on one wall for his guitars. Burt brought a contractor buddy of his in here to put an extra layer of sound-proofing in the walls before they were sealed and painted.”
Burt raised an eyebrow at his son and said, “George Moore. Same friend I got to help me sound proof our old basement into someplace you could sing your face off at five o’clock every morning, while you were trying on every outfit you owned and dolling up your skin and hair for two hours before school.”
Everyone laughed at Kurt’s acknowledging blush. Maybe Finn had not been the only one with irritating habits in those days.
Sam took over the shared body to say, “We’re gonna put a boss stereo system along that back wall by the dressers, and maybe a computer desk, and I want some bookcases with a reading lamp.”
The switch in control between one man and the other was also a lot faster and easier now than it had been when they were initially merged, and all those listening were interested to realize that they had no difficulty in knowing who was speaking.
Kurt looked at him curiously. He never remembered either of these two having a particular interest in books before.
Reading the question in his eyes correctly, Sam shrugged. “I always liked stories, but I used to feel like it was too much of a bother to decipher all the text to read much. Got a lot of Graphic novels and audio books instead. I mean, I could do it, but it felt too much like homework, y’know?” At Kurt’s nod, he grinned. “We discovered a side benefit of sharing a body. Whatever rewiring of our brains that was required to live this way had some perks. I still have dyslexia, but when Finn is in control I can sort of read through his eyes, and the letters don’t get all messed up. Kind of weird, but it works!”
Finn chimed in. “It makes me like reading for fun a lot more, knowing that I can help Sam do it. English Lit was pretty much the only school subject I always got perfect grades in, so it’s no big deal. Oh, and we’ve discovered that if we concentrate hard, we can do this.”
He lifted his hands, scrunched his brow, and made a shoving motion with his palms out, resulting in the chair he was looking at scooting a couple of feet away.
The witches in the room looked at him with slack-jawed surprise. Sam was a Standard, and since it was his body that Finn’s mind and soul were sharing, no one had expected Finn’s latent magic to translate to this new existence. Sam jumped back in. “This part works no matter who’s in control.”
In demonstration, he stuck his tongue out slightly and frowned hard at the remote control on the little coffee table they had set up next to the couch. It twitched a few inches closer.
“How is that possible?” Kurt asked, looking around the group.
Brittany stepped forward, cocking her head like a curious puppy as she narrowed her eyes and looked Fam over with Sight. “They’re merging,” she said in a vaguely detached tone. “Still Finn and Sam, but Fam is becoming real. At first you were in sort of a disassociative identity situation, with one body but two personalities, and one person had to be fully in control to do anything. Now you’ve adapted to be more like conjoined twins instead. Individual people who happen to share one body, and that body is starting to adapt to both your abilities. Magic comes from the soul, as much as the body. After all, there are plenty of Standards with magical parents, and plenty of witches with no magic in their family trees. Where did they get that if it wasn’t just a natural facet of who they are?”
“So that means even though I’m in a different body, I’m still me, and I’m still a witch.” Finn said. “And that being in here gave Sam a magic transfusion, so now he has it too.”
Brittany nodded. “I think it’s like reincarnation. Different body but you still have echoes of your past life. The power will probably never be strong unless you’re really angry. That might give it a boost, like it did the day you confronted Blaine. But even a little magic can be fun.”
Fam grinned back, clearly liking the idea of being able to move things with their mind, even if it was only ever enough to tug a remote control closer without getting up. “Cool,” they said.
Shaking his head at this, Burt just sighed and picked up his original thread. “Finn and Sam haven’t officially moved down yet, so I figured that as long as nobody minds the occasional clatter of washer/dryer, or the need to share a bed, we can toss a couple of air mattresses down there and fit most of you comfortably. There are still the two upstairs bedrooms for any spillover, particularly if the cat-folk don’t mind shrinking down to a more compact size.”
There were no protests to this idea, and it was quickly decided that all of the girls, plus L.T., would bunk down in the basement room, while Kurt and Adam, along with cat sized Elliott and Sebastian, would stay in Kurt’s old room, and Johnny would bunk in with Fam.
At least, officially that’s how it would be. Kurt knew his friends too well to think that they wouldn’t all end up migrating downstairs to have a gigantic slumber party at least a couple of times. Judging by the amusement dancing in his father’s eyes, he knew it too.
Food would not be an issue with Brittany and Dani available to conjure up meals, and everyone could pop back home whenever they needed to with a little boost from Santana or Elliott. Even with two and a half bathrooms, the household would be overwhelmed if more than a dozen people were attempting to take turns using them every day.
Altogether it was a good arrangement, and Kurt was happy to have one less thing to worry about.
~*~*~*~*~
The Familiars, it had been decided, would take the first crack at confronting Blaine. Kurt recognized the wisdom of not revealing his hand before it was time, and while Blaine certainly knew Sebastian “Oh, no way in hell am I missing out on this!” Smythe, he had never laid eyes on human Tubbington before; Tubbington having been intentionally stealthy the day he went to check on Blaine and David at ‘Between the Sheets’. While Blaine had met Elliott a couple of times, he would certainly never suspect a black cat of being his ex’s best friend. Kurt had recently been reminded that Familiars had a natural immunity to Wild magic. Therefore, the cats would be the safest advance party to send.
“I want to go too,” Adam said, much to the surprise of his husband.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “I won’t be startled by him this time. I think coming up on him so suddenly, like a jump-scare in a film, is what flipped me the last time. I want a chance to see him, and get used to seeing him. If I still can’t deal with that, then I’ll have to stay here when the time comes.”
Adam did not like the idea of being safely tucked out of the way when Kurt went face to face with their enemy, but it was a logical precaution and a generously selfless one.
Kurt recognized this, knowing that Adam was facing up to the fact that he could become more of a hindrance than a help if his PTSD were to take over during a fight. He kissed him softly and consented to his plan by saying, “You’ll need to disguise yourself before you go.”
“Awe-some hand-bag,” Santana sing-songed, making them both smile.
Sebastian snorted. “And who would carry him? I’m not the man-purse type, thanks. Wouldn’t you rather just change your face and be a stranger? Or do you need us to set up a glamour for that?”
Adam met Kurt’s eyes and said, “That might be necessary. I’ve been practicing my Transmogrification skills a great deal of late, in the event they might be needed, but I’ve always been better at mimicking objects than people.”
“Pretty much the opposite of me,” Johnny said, idly mimicking each of them as he looked around the room, then returning to his own brown-eyed, brown-haired, sharp-featured appearance. “I can do an object if I really concentrate and don’t have to hold it very long, but I have trouble with the weight ratio. People are a snap.”
Adam explained to the puzzled-looking Burt and Carole, “He means that when I transform into an object, I automatically adjust my mass and weight, so it doesn’t matter how large or small the object appears. That’s why no one realized that my body had been secretly disguised as a wall poster while my soul was sent to the Void. To change only my face is harder. Like balancing on tiptoe, juggling oranges, and singing an aria all at the same time. It’s possible, but it doesn’t leave much concentration for other things.”
“Fine, an object it is. We don’t want to put any undue pressure on Adam and there’s no point in making up a fake identity for somebody that Blaine is only going to see for five minutes,” Tubbington said firmly, drawing a grateful look from Kurt. “This is just a test mission to see how things stand, so let’s keep it simple. Adam, make yourself into a pendant so you can get a good look and I’ll take you in myself. Sebastian can carry Elliott.”
“And if you open up your rapport with Kurt, he can see and hear through you,” Brittany added cheerfully.
Every person in the room turned to stare at her.
“Oh. Did you not know that?” she said, eyes innocent. “He couldn’t do it before, or maybe just a little, but I’ll bet he can do it easily now that you’re Joined. Since Kurt has high Potential and a strong gift for Sight, he should be able to see through Adam’s eyes.”
Santana looked at her curiously. “Can you see through my eyes?”
Brittany smiled. “Sure!” she chirped. “I don’t, because it’s not polite if you don’t ask first, but I could.”
Intrigued, she said, “Could I?”
Brittany considered that. She and Santana had never gone through a formal Joining ceremony, but they were as close as any two people, witches or not, could be in spite of it. “Probably not for more than a few seconds,” she said at last. “You have Sight, but it isn’t very strong. I can’t use your Talents for force-fields or transportation either, because I don’t have those even in Potential. Adam and Kurt have Sight in almost the same Potential, plus they experienced the temporary sharing of powers that come with being Joined. The emotional link should do the rest.”
“How does it work?” Kurt asked. “The piggy-backing of Sight.”
Brittany tore her gaze away from her girlfriend’s, then simply reached out the same way she had on the first day Kurt had learned of magic, and touched his temple. “Like that.”
Kurt blinked, finding himself the sudden possessor of instinctive knowledge, just as he had been when she taught him to See his own magical Potential. “Oh. Wow, that’s all?”
“Pretty simple, once you have the power,” she said with a shrug. “You have enough that you might be able to do that with any of us if we were to ground and form a bonding circle, like when you went into the Void, but definitely with Adam. You’ll have to close your eyes though.”
“Do you mind?” Kurt asked, eyes shining with eagerness to try this new bit of magic.
Adam shook his head, equally intrigued. Brittany S. Pierce continued to confound him at times. She seemed so simple, so innocent, and he would find himself lulled into trust of that surface image, only to be suddenly reminded that just beneath it lay a virtual treasure trove of knowledge and magical experience. Sometimes he wondered how much of her gifts were natural, and how much had been conferred through her link with Lord Tubbington, who had likely granted her the inherited experience of several lifetimes as a witch’s Familiar. Nine lives was no joke when it came to cat folk.
Kurt closed his eyes, frowning as he searched for the thread of emotion that always connected the two of them, linked to it, and concentrated. It was a peculiar feeling, trying to activate one’s Sight without actually using your eyes, and he struggled to keep them closed when every instinct told him to open his eyes and see what Adam was doing.
Adam, for his part, turned on his own Sight and walked about the room. He turned his back to his husband and picked up a random object. “Can you see what I’m holding?”
“I think … oh, this is weird,” Kurt said. “You’re holding that beat up old bunny rabbit that Monica sleeps with. I can see it, but it’s like I’m looking at it through a slightly warped piece of glass.” Adam turned to look at him, smiling proudly, and Kurt gasped a little. He broke his concentration and blinked to reorient his eyesight as he opened his eyes and looked at Brittany.
She smiled. “You looked better than the way you normally see yourself, right?” He nodded. “It’s because you were seeing yourself through Adam’s eyes, riding his emotional connection to you.”
Kurt blushed suddenly, looking proud and a little bit awe-struck. “Wow. I suddenly understand why you like to say that I’m beautiful. Want to try it?”
Adam nodded eagerly. Kurt repeated his performance, picking up one of Dani’s favorite necklaces from where it was sitting on a dresser. Adam identified the jewelry with no difficulty, then made a choked sound of surprise when Kurt turned and looked at him.
“Bugger. Apparently my mirror has been doing me a disservice,” he quipped, making a joke of it but clearly startled by the strong, gorgeous, noble man who stood in his place. Him, but also more than him. He swallowed, knowing that he would remember this moment for the rest of his life, and that he would spend his life doing his very best to live up to the person that Kurt believed him to be. “I can’t wait until you see your dodgy ex the way that I do.”
Allowing the charged moment to fade, Kurt laughed with him. “I suspect he won’t look too good through any of our eyes these days. Let’s go find out.”
THE END
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She must have listened to that message a hundred times, 'Kimber, I did not want to do this over voicemail but you haven't answered any of my calls..... it's about your father...' The dread could be heard in her stepmother's voice and the hefty sigh that had followed. 'He has passed away...'
The words spoken in the message by Priscilla had to be untrue. The General could not be gone,it was not possible. He was unstoppable man and even as a child she could rarely recall him even catching a cold let alone losing a battle to cancer. He had served in two wars and completed five combat tours. He quite possibly was the strongest man she knew growing up. He was a fighter by the very definition. While he had been a stubborn and strict soul, he was a hero. His loss hit her harder than she could have ever expected it would especially since they had not spoken or seen one another since he decided not only cut her off but disown her over two years ago due to her choice of lifestyle. Kimberlina was the one he had held such high hopes for. An indigo child, genius prodigy who probably could have very well found a cure for cancer if she had not lost her way.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid." She hissed at herself palm of her hand striking her forehead with every stupid, "Why didn't you just answer his call? Why must you be so bloody stubborn?!"
The General had reached out for the first time three weeks ago but she had refused to answer his call. Not just because she had five minutes to curtain call but there was so much anger and resentment towards the man built up inside of her dating back to when she was sixteen. He had taken her mum from her but he also had not. A minor surgery gone wrong but he had been the surgeon, a renound one at that from years of medical training in the military. She blamed him but also did not blame him, a set of mixed feelings surrounding the subject. There was so much at that age she still needed her mum for. The General was never truly the same after that for he too blamed himself except it was his children who he took it out on. Not physically, at least not with Kimber. She had been a daddy's girl, his mini me about her whole life and all he wanted was for her to come home to London, back to the Camden Estate. But she had built an entire life for herself in California, fallen in love for the first time. Knox. He however was a story for another time. Gotten early acceptance into pre-med and actually learned to come out from behind her text books thanks to her brother Byron. He fought for her to stay with him and in a way he won that battle against their father but that too cost Kimberlina a loss in a different kind of way.
But still the heartache that consumed her in the news of her father was one too heavy to bare. No matter what he had taken from her, no matter the harsh words he had yelled at her that day when telling her to never come back she was full of regret. It sat in the pit of her stomach eating away at her. Wondering what he could have possibly been calling about. To inform her that he was sick? To make amends? Maybe just to simply tell her that he did in fact love her? She'd never know, not now. This regret could not be fixed. It was too late. The sorrow that filled her heart and soul by her choice not to answer his call was not one she was sure she could live with. Such thought of feeling this burden for life instilled a kind of anger in her. The kind that surfaced when one was grieving a loss.
"Why father? Why could you not just leave a fucking voicemail?" An angered swipe of her hand across the top of her makeup vanity would spill the contents on to the ground and smacking some against the wall.
She would not be making curtain call tonight. She would not be leaving her dressing room to display her wet eyes to the perverted on lookers of tonight's show. Performing was the furthest thing from her mind. Her sadness had sent her into a self destruct mode and if she went out on stage there was no telling what she would do. She wanted to destroy everything in her path, she wanted to scream profanities at the top of her lungs. Hate raging inside of her but not for the General, no. At herself. What had she done? What had she taken from herself? The chance to say goodbye to the man who gave her life and on a silver platter at that.
Mascara running from her eyes staining her cheeks with streaks of black, tears coating her hazel green eyes. Emotions were not her strong suit. She much rather feel nothing at all especially in this case. It was all too much to handle, too much to ask her to accept. She flat out did not want to. She almost in a way refused to. This just had to be some sort of cruel joke. Some test he was giving her like in the old days. She had been raised family first, she had been raised better than this. She was the disappointment he classified her as. How could she fly out to London for his funeral in a few days being what she was? She could not face him after all this not even in his death. She had let him down, brought his name Camden to shame. She just might be the most awful person to exist in this world and she felt it in every fiber of her flesh. Kimber would do about anything to feel nothing at all in this moment.
Fist pounding at the tabletop of her makeup vanity a disgruntle scream pierced her glittery glossed lips. Aggravation and grief only growing stronger within her. Memories flooding her thoughts; like the time her father surprised her with her first horse at six years old. Sparking a love riding that had stayed with her to about eighteen. He had granted her with a hobby and love in something that was a far more healthier escape when this world became overwhelming. Or how he spent endless hours during her primary school years helping her practice for the spelling bee. She had taken home the National title every single year. He always saw the great potiental she had within her and never let her waste it away. He embedded the importance of her education and the greatness she would achieve with that brain of hers.
"You will make a difference in this world Kimberlina, the kind they add into history books."
Except she threw it all away for a fix that promised to numb emotions she had never been taught how to handle. She had been a foolish girl with no guidance and no one to look out for her back then. All it took was making the wrong friend at a vulnerable time in her young life that had brought her to be sitting in this very spot she was now. She had no family left, not really. Her stepmother had been six months pregnant the last time she saw her father. A pair of twin siblings were in their way, siblings she never got the chance to know and selfishly part of her did not want to even if she had the choice. So many inner demons living inside of her she did not know had been inhabiting her until now. The path she was going down was not a safe one and surely would lead to only further disappointment.
Kimberlina could not catch a break in this life, it was as if fate refused to let her be happy. It had a personal vendetta against her. Because she had for the first time in a long time been on quite the happy streak. Life had been going rather well for her, business was booming, she got practically whatever she wanted price was never an issue, she had built a life for herself with or without her father's approval and she had been using less, still very much using but not what would be considered typical for her. While outsiders might be baffled what she could be proud of she had a lot to be thankful for. She survived everything everything meant to destroy her in this world and came out on top. But this time, this uncertainty of pain that was consuming her more by each second had the power to break her in ways she would have never imagined. She wanted to stop feeling. She needed to stop feeling.
Bottom left drawer of her vanity ripped open that it had completely popped out of place. Fingers curling around a bedazzled makeup brush bag that did not have makeup brushes in it but rather her stash. One hundred percent pure Colombian cocaine. The richest of all the cocaines. Her mouth almost watered at the anticipation. This was guaranteed to make her numb. Hastingly unzipping the makeup brush bag removing the sandwich baggy to dump the contents across the top of her vanity, she did not even bother to break into lines before grabbing that trusty straw inhaling the white powdery goodness through her left nostril. Which might have been her first mistake or possibly last as she continued at it. The effects almost instant, it never took long with the pure stuff. It was strong and pulsed through her veins with a promise of escape. Her face becoming numb as the tears in her eyes dried. Face still painted black from her running mascara. A sway from side to side taking over her petite curvy body as she rode that magical high that granted her release from her emotions. But like most things in life there was a piece to pay. Every action had a reaction, that was physics 101.
Heart racing inside her chest, pounding to be let out as her head spun in circles that began to make her not only dizzy but nauseous. For the first time in her life she might have taken her addiction too far. Palms clamy while a cold sweat began to send chills throughout her. She was overdosing. Tunnel vision began as she sat there patting her vanity for her phone but she had knocked it off onto the floor in her fit of rage. She could make out the hint of the rose gold color case a few feet from her in the ground as she looked around. Dare she stand up? No. Leaning to the side while staying planted on that cushioned stool she made an attempt to reach but it was too far and caused her along with stool to crash to floor of her dressing room. Heavy pants heaved her chest as it felt like the oxygen was being sucked from her lungs. Had she forgotten how to breathe properly? No. Kimberlina's body was shutting down and it was the most terrifying feeling to come face to face with. This was not her intentions. She just needed a little break to clear her mind. Reaching for her phone as she layed there against the cold ground though it felt like she was still falling. Down and down a rabbit hole like Alice had in her way to Wonderland.
Managing to grip her phone she swiped to make a call. To who? She had no clue unable to see clearly but to someone because the last thing she heard before blacking out was the line ringing.
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