#cabinet is blaines............. cat

[kirakiwiwrites]

Hi friends! So it’s been a minute lol. Why? A whole slew of reasons like migraines, a new job, traveling, carpal tunnel, and good old fashioned writer’s block. Are we still working on a one shot for Obsidian Castle and another new multi chapter story? Yes. Three actually. We will be posting new stuff soon. Thanks so much for all the love from Obsidian Castle too. So happy everyone has enjoyed it!

Anyway, we thought to get out of the little rut, we would participate in the @klaine-word-scramble. It looks like so much fun and if you haven’t checked it out you should! So here is our first one, just a very short one shot full of cute fluff. The theme for most of these will probably be future fics like this one. We will also post these to FF.net and A03

Thank you to all who organized it and come up with all the fun scrambles!

Disclaimer: We do not own Glee, the characters, or quotations from the show.

(Aug 1 scramble - 979 words)

Craft day:

“Do we need more glue?”

Blaine scratched at his head before grimacing as he realized his hands were covered in glue. now his hair was also covered in glue. The stuff was everywhere. “No, I don’t think that’s it.” He scanned the directions while he wiped at his head. “If we add more glue, things could get worse.”

His eight year old son Michael huffed a sigh and poked at the goopy substance in the bowl. “What about more glitter?”

Blaine shook his head slowly as he tried to make sense of the mess they had made. “Oh god no. No more glitter.”

It looked as though a glitter bomb had exploded in their kitchen. There was glitter on everything: the floor, the cabinets, them. Glitter had even somehow ascended to the top of the fridge and landed amongst the mousetraps they stored up there. It was quite a mess.

Michael blew the dark curls he inherited from his father out of his eyes and glitter puffed out and slowly and floated down. “Did we put enough activator in?” He spread his fingers and purple glittery glue gunk made strings across them. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be so sticky.”

Blaine made a noise of agreement before he realized two of the pages were stuck together. Carefully, he peeled them apart and saw they had missed a step.

“Okay, kiddo. I figured it out. Grab that spatula and stir until you think your arms are gonna fall off.”

Michael did as his father told him and stirred, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. “What do I do if my arms do fall off?”

“Use some of the glue and stick them back on. I’m going to clean up a bit before—“

“What did you two do to my kitchen!” Kurt exclaimed as he clutched his face in horror. He stood in the doorway, his keys and a brown paper bag in one hand. “Did you blow up a disco ball?”

Blaine winced. “Oh, hey honey.” He gave his husband his most charming smile. He cleaned faster. “You’re home early!”

A little giggle came from their six year old daughter who had spent the morning with Kurt. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she took in the mess. “Mikey looks like the shiny troll from that movie!” She set down a matching brown paper bag and skipped over to the counter where her brother was stirring vigorously. “I want to do it too!”

Kurt set his bag down quickly beside his daughter’s and gingerly picked his way through the disaster zone. “Tracy! Wait! At least change your clothes first!” He sighed and accepted a kiss on the cheek from his husband. She was already elbow deep in the concoction and chuckling maniacally.

“Don’t worry, Kurt,” Blaine said brightly. “I’m going to have all this cleaned up before dinner. How did it go making candles?”

Kurt leaned tiredly on the counter, then remembered it was covered in slime and stood upright. “We actually had fun until Tracy decided things were too calm. She decided she didn’t want a normal cat shaped candle, but she wanted a headless cat shaped candle that would bleed when she burned it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Blaine mumbled as he picked out some sparkley glue from his arm hair. “Has she been watching Wednesday again?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and grabbed a dish towel. After wetting it, he began to carefully wipe the glue off of Blaine’s arm. “I don’t know but I’m having a hell of a time encouraging her to express her creativity while also not making the other children around her cry.”

Blaine thanked him for the glue and eyed the room with another grimace. “It’s a precarious dance for sure. You do a wonderful job.”

Kurt smiled and kissed him just as their children screamed in triumph.

“Dad! Papa! Look! We made slime!” Michael held up a blob of purple goo studded with glitter.

“Can I eat it?” Tracy asked as she squeezed some through her fingers.

“No!” Blaine yelled in alarm at the same time Kurt yelled, “Absolutely not! Don’t you dare put that in your mouth!”

Tracy glared at them for ruining her fun, but then got distracted by the shiny slime. Michael gave her a very brotherly look that said he considered her only a step above an animal.

“Why are you so weird?”

“Am not! You’re weird!”

“You’re the one trying to eat slime!”

“I just asked! I wasn’t gonna do it!”

Kurt took a deep breath and released it as Blaine continued to clean the kitchen. “Kids! Enough!” Kurt interjected, hands on his hips. “Mikey, don’t call your sister weird. Tracy, don’t ever eat anything unless you know it’s food. I will not have fighting on craft day!”

Blaine nodded solemnly in silent support as he scrubbed at a dried pile of goop. He accidentally upset a pile of glitter that puffed out in a cloud and caused him to sneeze.

Michael shrugged and continued to stretch the slime out and whirl it like a jump rope between his hands. Tracy stared down at the small bit in her hand. “I wasn’t gonna eat it,” she grumbled.

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to stay calm. “Alright. Help me and Papa clean up the kitchen and we will all go out for pizza. Deal?”

This was met with cheers of agreement from the two children who took wet paper towels offered to them by Kurt and set to work wiping up glitter. Kurt smiled at how determined they were and grabbed the broom and dustpan.

“Thank you,” Blaine said with a grateful smile.

“You’re welcome,” Kurt replied as he started sweeping. “But buckle up because next craft day is painting and Tracy had me take her by the cemetery for ‘inspiration’.”

“Of course she did. But it’s fine because in the Hummel-Anderson house, we support weird.”

“Absolutely.”

*words used from the scramble:

Candles (pretty sure this is the unscrambled word but shhh don’t tell lol)

scan (scanned)

land (landed)

ascend (ascended)

clean

dances (dance)

deal

[stevie-evans]

That's on me for opening that door. Haha. Okay, when I was in 5th grade, I became obsessed with magicians like David Blaine and Houdini. I saved money, went to a magic store, and bought all kinds of items: cards, rings, cups, and balls. I couldn't splurge on the bigger items, but I did make my own disappearing cabinet out of discarded wood. It was fun. A lot of fun. I just wasn't good at it and stopped. What's the most unusual lawsuit you worked on? Try me. How much did you drink before the diagnosis? It's great you're in the legal filed then with that research passion.

Opossums, too. They ate the cat food we put out, so why not feed them?

Well, I might not want an accountant to fumbles the numbers OR who distracts me without realizing it, but now I kind of want to know what your 5th grade magic period entailed. Curiosity piqued, Stevie! Lawsuits aren't ALL depressing -- I tended to specialize in personal and civil liberties lawsuits back in Philly, and those could be really rewarding when they went well -- but too much of anything is a recipe for burnout. Oh, it's definitely decreased. You would've been appalled if you saw how much caffeine I consumed on a daily basis back then -- it helped me focus, so I was probably self-medicating without realizing it? Getting a diagnosis gave me something to research, at least, which I am damn good at, and a way to make those half-blind coping mechanisms more effective.

A raccoon. Stevie. I've never even had a dog before Max, and you're over here semi-fostering raccoons, 😂

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Or Is This The Way It Ends?

Quarantine ‘Verse, part 1 here part 3

Summary:  Immediately following Would You Be My Little Quarantine?, Blaine talks to his roommate.

Notes: To avoid doom scrolling this election day, I thought I’d offer the gleeks something pleasant to read.  I hope y’all enjoy this follow-up! 

AO3

After leaving the meeting room, Blaine sits back in his chair and sighs. This was how meeting your idol went in your wildest dreams, not in reality. Had they met in person, Blaine is confident he would’ve made a total fool of himself and fallen over his feet to talk to Kurt Hummel. 

He only lets himself smile like an idiot for a few minutes because he really needs to talk to his big brother. Whether or not it will be to yell at him or thank him remains to be seen. At the very least, Cooper had told Blaine there was something important they needed to discuss. 

Blaine: Wrong Zoom ID, doofus

Blaine knows it’ll be a couple of minutes before Cooper answers because even if he’s on his phone when he gets a text Cooper likes to let them ‘simmer.’ Something about not seeming too eager. However, this rule only seems to apply to Blaine and their mother because Cooper answers any call or text from Hollywood in under two seconds. 

While waiting for a text back, Blaine walks to his kitchen and puts the kettle on. He’s becoming a bit of a tea hoarder. Not by his own choice, his roommate hates the taste of coffee and exclusively drinks various teas in the morning and late afternoon. There is an entire cabinet in their little kitchen dedicated to different types and flavors of tea. 

Luckily, even if his blissful state, Blaine has the mind to yell to his roommate that the kettle’s on. 

Charlie shouts from their bedroom, “Be right there.” 

He really lucked out with his apartment. A decently priced two bedroom with a medium-sized kitchen, and a spacious living area. The one downside was only having one bathroom because both roommates loved their primping time. This was mostly solved because Blaine liked to shower at night (to wash out gel and grime of the day) and Charlie used their morning shower as an additional wake-up call. 

Blaine takes two mugs from the cabinet before opening the tea cabinet. Charlie kept all the tea leaves in mason jars which they labeled in washable marker. In this apartment, they only used tea leaves. Most days, Blaine was happy to be a coffee drinker because Charlie wouldn’t say anything about his use of already grounded coffee instead of grinding the beans himself. 

In the time it takes Charlie to join Blaine in the kitchen, the bliss of meeting Kurt Hummel is gone. Blaine’s spent those two long minutes thinking about giving Kurt his number and ‘oh god, what if that was weird and he never calls me.’ 

Charlie looks over Blaine’s shoulder, Blaine moves a little out of the way so Charlie can grab the cinnamon orange tea leaves. 

“This Berry Creme is to die for by the way but it’s always sold out. McNulty’s is just–” 

“–the best. I know. Opened in 1895, tea kept in glass apothecary jars, and just so convenient cause it’s in the West Village near school.”

Charlie gives him a “who pissed in your cornflakes look” look. “Drop the attitude, Anderson.” 

“Sorry, I’m a little stressed.” 

“Was Cooper really that bad today?” they ask. 

“Well, first off, he gave me the wrong Zoom ID so I haven’t talked to him yet.” 

“So, who were you talking to that got you all worked up? Cause, I heard your voice. Unless you started talking to yourself again which is a whole other matter.”

“I only talk to myself when you’re not here.” Blaine huffs. “And I was talking to someone.” 

“Who?” 

“Um, Kurt Hummel actually.”

Charlie’s eyes widen and he spins Blaine’s body around so they’re facing one another. “Excuse me? HOW?” 

“Dumb luck.” Blaine shrugs as Charlie lets go.

“You’re like obsessed with him!” Charlie adds their leaves into a diffuser. “Haven’t you been following his career for like the last five years?” 

The kettle whistles. While Charlie pours water, Blaine turns back to the cabinet to choose a tea.

Blaine rolls his eyes, even though Charlie can’t see, but doesn’t deny his thing for Kurt. 

“Since I saw him as Peter Pan.” 

“Five years ago,” Charlie says. “I listen when you talk, you know.” 

Blaine grabs just regular black tea leaves and shuts the cabinet door. His phone buzzes but Blaine decides to let Cooper’s text ‘simmer’. Give him a taste of his own medicine as it were. 

Charlie hands Blaine a second diffuser this one looks like a cat and hangs on the edge of the cup whereas Charlie’s is a plain silver one. 

“So, what did Kurt Hummel have to talk about with you?” 

“Just get-to-know-you stuff.” 

“Oh,” Charlie draws out the word, their interest piqued. 

“Shush,” Blaine tells them. “It’s no big deal. And I’m stressed cause I gave him my number and he’s never gonna text me.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Look at me!” Blaine exclaims. “Why would gorgeous, future Tony winner Kurt Hummel want me? Blaine Anderson who’s very first role on Broadway was postponed.”

“You’re taking credit for the global pandemic now, bold of you,” Charlie comments. 

“He’s all tall and intelligent and funny and so, so, beautiful.” 

“And you aren’t?” Charlie inquires. “Are you not the same Blaine who gets asked out by at least two girls a week…”

“Not true, more like once a month,” 

Charlie ignores this correction. “The Blaine who asked a professor for extra credit because a 93 wasn’t good enough? The Blaine who wore lifts just once on a dare and declared being short was better and proceeded to kick off his shoes and climb on top of the fridge to prove he could reach the cabinets above it? Is that not you in this photo on top of said fridge?” 

Charlie holds their phone out with the photo of Blaine giving the camera two thumbs up and grinning at his accomplishment. 

“And you weren’t even drunk that time!” Charlie adds. 

Blaine blushes. 

“My point being, you’re amazing Blaine and if Kurt Hummel can’t see it...you’ll be like everyone else who meets their idol: elated, slightly starstruck, and reasonably terrified of fucking up but accepting that you can’t date and aren’t likely to meet again.” 

This time Blaine laughs. 

“If you weren’t such a tea snob, you’d be the best roommate in the world,” Blaine replies. 

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Charlie tells him. “Except Kurt Hummel.” 

Charlie, then, grabs their Star Wars mug and starts heading back to their room. 

“And Blaine,” they say. 

“Yeah?” 

“Call your brother.” 

He grins. “Will do.” 

Blaine situates himself back in front of his laptop and pops his earbuds back in before checking his phone.

Cooper: new id 411-9f9-7623

Blaine: There aren’t any letters in Zoom. I’ll just email you a link.

[vcg73]

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

[imm-blog1]

MESSAGIO GALORE TAKE XII

a duration of sound poetry & similaria edited, reärranged & constraducted by jwcurry & realized through the combined auditoria of jwcurry Alastair Larwill Georgia Mathewson Brian Pirie 7 PM 21 octo 12 at Common Ground Art Gallery 3277 Sandwich Street, Windsor ___________________________________________________________________________

part 1

1. Scraptures: 12th Sequence, bpNichol (Canada, 1967?); source: photocopy from TORONTO LIFE (issue # & editor unknown, Toronto, 1968). & on the 12th "day", humanity stuck its heads up from the muck & goo, took a look around in its state of ignorant grace, & knew but lustful fear. arrangement dedicated to Jan Svankmeyer. full quartet

2. WELTWEHE, August Stramm (Germany, 1914); source: KROKLOK #3 (ed.dom sylvester houédard, London, UK, Writers Forum, 1972). Stramm’s scope is nothing less than cosmic in this, his most extreme narrative composed almost solely of verbs, fuelled & shaped by the battlefields he wrote in & the ciphers he wired his poems home through. solo

3. SIX-FOUR, Alastair Larwill (Canada, 2o1o); source: unpublished manuscript. accumulative disintegrational polysyllabicism formulated as an audio illustration in a discussion of articulational deliberateness with its dedicatee, Rob Read. full quartet

4. Generations, bpNichol (Canada, 1988); source: bpNichol, gIFTS The Martyrology Book(s) 7 (&) (Toronto, Coach House Press, 199o). Nichol’s numerical interpolations distract & enact a simultaneous metanarrative between his given text & what’s given through his interferences with it. solo

5. Againful Deployment, jwcurry (Canada, 1981?); source: monograph (Ottawa, 1cent, 2oo1). a "sound poem for an assemblyline of voicings" spiralling outta the conch into yr cochnea. full quartet

6. Salmon River Soliloquy, David UU (Canada, 1973); source: David UU, High C (Toronto, Underwhich Editions, 1991). a rather straightforward poem siding with the fishes. solo

7. anacyclic poem with two shouts DHARMATHOUGHTS STUPAWARDS, dom sylvester houédard (England, 1966); source: KROKLOK #1 (ed.dom sylvester houédard, London, Writers Forum, 1971). "for the artists protest committee for their call from losangeles for a tower against the war", an anagrammatic poem in 3 vowels & 4 consonants. duo: curry/Mathewson

8. " BREATH IS ", bill bissett (Canada, 1966?); source: bill bissett, fires in th tempul OR TH JINX SHIP ND OTHR TRIPS (Vancouver, Very Stone House, 1966). one of bissett’s concrete scattertexts, here divided into a demonstration of the logic inherent in his more radical field compositions. duo: curry/Larwill

9. Oiseautal / Super-Bird-Song, Raoul Hausmann (France, 1918?) & Kurt Schwitters (England, 1946?) respectively; source: Raoul Hausmann & Kurt Schwitters, PIN and the story of PIN (London, UK, Gaberbocchus Press, 1962). brought together by the 1st world war & separated by the 2nd, both friends independently came to write short works based on birdsound. this interlineated arrangement by curry (2oo9?) is a step toward A Visit to the Aviary, a short suite of related material from various sources. duo: curry/Pirie

1o. THREE/FOUR: OF TIME, bpNichol (Canada, 1985); source: 5e echanges internationaux de poesie contemporaine, ed.Julien Blaine (Tarascon, France, L’A.G.R.I.P.P.A., 1988). the 3rd in Nichol’s "TIME" series "for the 4 Horsemen", this one targetting the structure of the waltz for vigorous interrogation. full quartet

11. Calling The Vegetable Collected, jwcurry (Canada, 2oo8); source: monograph (2nd ed, Ottawa, 1cent, 2oo8). hocketed statements that build multiple syntactic paths as the fragments first cohere, then disintegrate. full quartet

12. GLiNE OR EXTRATERRESTRIAL OCCURRENCES, Vaughn Bodé (USA, 1972?); source: Vaughn Bodé, JUNKWAFFEL no.3 (Berkeley, The Print Mint, 1972). Bodé’s 5pp comic relieved of its graphic anchor, its text no less rich in its significtions despite the lack of signposts. solo

13. KNOTS, jwcurry (Canada, 1982?); source: The (Almost) Instant Anthology ’88, ed.Beverley Daurio, Daniel Jones & bpNichol (Toronto, Meet The Presses, 1988). excerpts from a "translation into concrete poetry" of R.D.Laing’s lineated neuroses trackings, subsequently unreknotted & strung out as a schizologue for 2. duo: Larwill/Mathewson

14. The Tibetan Memory Trick, traditional/arranged by Howard Kaylan, Ian Underwood & Mark Volman (USA, 1974); source: Flo & Eddie, ILLEGAL, IMMORAL AND FATTENING (Canadian pressing, Columbia Records Limited, 1975). spontaneous insertion into KNOTS above. everyone in the band gets put through this one for articulational, breathing & body memory development. full quartet.

15. AGATHA! WAKE UP! I’M CURED!, Richard Beland (Canada, 1992?); source: unpublished manuscript. Beland’s language lines are as plastic as his visual lines, this short prose morphing from sense to sound to resense with every step. solo

16. MUSHY PEAS, Steve McCaffery & bpNichol (England, 1978); source: Steve McCaffery & bpNichol, IN ENGLAND NOW THAT SPRING (Toronto, Aya Press, 1979). 6 pp of drawn optophonetics as visual field for improvisation. duo: curry/Larwill

17. sounds’ favorite words, Paul Haines (Canada, 1986), as quoted in full in an extract from Haines’ Jubilee; source: Paul Haines, Secret Carnival Workers (Toronto? H Pal Productions, 2oo7), with reference to Michel Contat’s reading on Haines’ DARN IT! (USA, American Clavé, 1994). hijacked as a footnote of manysorts. Jubilee ends "Unrelatedly, there was a recital of whisk the morning of 17 July after a night the cats had raised hell on the front lawn, a group of robins fallen by the side of the hedge as though meeting on a street corner and – now headless to prove it – plumb run out of things to say, but still prettier representations of events than the sparrows the exact size of erasers stacked up with the heads on. // Which of course are words apart." solo

part 2

18. TOTEM ÉTRANGLÉ, Antonin Artaud (France, 1964?); source: KROKLOK #2 (ed.dom sylvester houédard, London, Writers Forum, 1971), with reference to Antonin Artaud/trans.Helen Weaver, Selected Writings (New York,Farrar Straus And Groux, 1976). "For years I have had an idea of the consumption, the internal consummation of language by the unearthing of all manner of torpid and filthy necessities." (Artaud in a letter to Henri Parisot, 22 sep 45). 18 of these sound cycles excised (by Artaud) from elsewhere in his writings (Here Lies; Insanity and Black Magic; The Return of Artaud, Le Momo; To Have Done with the Judgement of God; Van Gogh, The Man Suicided by Society) & formally linked as a suite. full quartet

19. ma meeshka mow skwoz, Mike Patton (USA, 1995); source: monograph (San Francisco, privately published, 1995), with reference to Mr.Bungle, disco volante (USA, Warner Brothers Records Incorporated, 1995), with music by Trey Spruance. Patton’s drawn optophonetic text yields "extended range" vocalics that’re all but buried in this complex piece of high-impact chamber music. a chance to hear the relentless trajectory of the text on its own. solo

2o. East Wind, bpNichol (Canada, 1979?); source: Four Horsemen, The Prose Tattoo (Milwaukee, Membrane Press, 1983). a gridtext deployed through overlaid extended breathlines, vowels blowing consonants all over the place. full quartet

21. The Multiples, Steve McCaffery (Canada, 1981); source: abs TruCt heh GarBagt, editor unknown (an insert in CABINET #1, USA, Immaterial Incorporated, 2ooo), transcribed by Rob Read (Canada, 2o11?). a multiplicity of mispronuncimicated masticatiums of eaneming, the contrast between what you seam to be hearing & what are here seming to be. duo: curry/Mathewson

22. A Letterklankbeelden Poem, I.K.Bonset (Holland, 192o); source: Imagining Language An Anthology, edited by Steve McCaffery & Jed Rasula (2nd ed, Cambridge, USA, MIT Press, 2oo1). with line lengths (mainly) one letter long, Bonset – among other things, a type designer – was simultaneously & independently investigating notions of optophonetics similar to Raoul Hausmann’s with diacritic modifiers. terse. solo

23.SIZERZ, Steve McCaffery (Canada, 1976); source: THE CAPILANO REVIEW #31 (ed.Steven Smith & Richard Truhlar, North Vancouver, 1984). severe elemental hocketing coupled with ordered layerings subjected to consistent randomizations. full quartet

24. roses that, d.a.levy (USA, 1966); source: UKANHAVYRFUCKINCITI BAK, ed.Robert J.Sigmund (Cleveland, Ghost Press, 1968). "for gene" (presumably Fowler), a cyclic concrete poem in linear form pumping ackackfire into the imperialism of semantic politics. solo

25. IT CAN’T HAPPEN HERE, Frank Zappa (USA, 1964); source: Mothers Of Invention, FREAK OUT! (USA, Verve Records, 1965), transcribed & arranged by jwcurry (2oo7). a somewhat remented barberchopping routine that only seems to leave metre & tonality behind, part 2 of Help, I’m A Rock, featuring Georgia Mathewson as Suzy Creamcheese ("You blew your mind on too much koolaid"). full quartet

26. BALLADS OF THE RESTLESS ARE, bpNichol (Canada, 1967?); source: monograph (2nd ed. Ottawa, Curvd H&z, 2oo6). "two versions/common source" of elemental theme & variations presented as comparative simultaneities in a "quartet for 2 voices" [curry]. duo: curry/Larwill

27. A Little Valentine, Steve McCaffery (Canada, 1977); source: Steve McCaffery, research on the mouth (Toronto, Underwhich Editions, 1978?), transcribed & arranged by jwcurry & Sheena Mordasiewicz (2o12). a trystcycle built for 2 interpenetrates itself to become a relentless rush toward simultaneous climax. duo: curry/Larwill

28. Pieces Of Stop, bpNichol (Canada, 1978); source: as 2o above. "for Greta Monach", an extremely literal approach to the score that casts the reversed expectations of its sound envelopes into stark relief. full quartet

29. auf dem land, ernst jandl (Austria, 1968?); source: konkrete poesie deutschsprachige autoren, ed.eugen gomringer (reprint? Stuttgart, Philipp Reclam, 198o). an "utter zoo" octupletted & arranged as simultaneous nouns’n’sounds. duo: curry/Larwill

3o. GLASS ON THE BEACH, Richard Truhlar (Canada, 1978?); source: Owen Sound, Beyond The Range (Toronto, Underwhich Editions, 198o), transcribed by jwcurry from a trio (Michael Dean, Steven Smith, Richard Truhlar) recording at The Music Gallery in Toronto, 18 august 1979, with additional parts adapted from 2 manuscript scores courtesy of Truhlar. extended vocal waveforms with buried shards. full quartet ___________________________________________________________________________

with Big Thanks to Gustave Morin for causing it, Jenny Kimmerly for the programmes, Jarrod Ferris for filming, Kung To for rehearsal space, Chris (dunno yr last name) & Sergio Forest for the fantastic homemade onion rings &, ‘fcourse, the band for the pleasure & hard work

front cover: bpNichol, Pieces Of Stop (28), rescored by jwcurry (bottom: lettering by curry) rear cover: dom sylvester houédard, anacyclic poem with two shouts DHARMATHOUGHTS STUPAWARDS (7) ___________________________________________________________________________

see also:

announcements: www.flickr.com/photos/48593922@N04/8078983925/ www.citywindsor.ca/residents/Culture/Mackenzie-Hall/Pages… pagehalffull.com/pesbo/2012/10/12/sunday-oct-21-messagio-… issuu.com/uwindsorlance/docs/thelance-85-16 (down on p.6) www.flickr.com/photos/48593922@N04/8152980663/

photographs: www.flickr.com/photos/pearlpirie/8119045118/ www.flickr.com/photos/pearlpirie/8119033749/ www.flickr.com/photos/pearlpirie/8119034091/ www.flickr.com/photos/pearlpirie/8119046498/ www.flickr.com/photos/pearlpirie/8119034923/ 2.bp.blogspot.com/-utKD_y6vO8c/UIgX0FXlbYI/AAAAAAAAAL8/kA…

Posted by jwc 3o2 on 2012-10-31 04:32:03

Tagged: , quadrabet

The post MESSAGIO GALORE TAKE XII appeared first on Good Info.

[seeroftodayandtomorrow]

The Prince and the Moon God

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

He doesn't even know how he got into his bed. He sleeps deep and, for once, dreamless, and has only a sparing thought for those of the sailors who are just as tired as he is, but whose watch is still on. In the morning, as he looks out the window, he is greeted by a cloudless sky and the sun glittering on a perfectly smooth sea, but as he gets dressed, yesterday's events come back to him.

The mast has fallen. Even he knows that's not good, and they are in the middle of the ocean. There had been no land anywhere, not that he remembers, no port to shelter them, broken as they are.

He has no idea what will happen now. Will they be unable to move forward? Will they perish once their supplies run out? Maybe there are oars...

He steps outside, unsure about where to go. Surely there won't be breakfast with Kurt today.

On his way up, though, he nearly runs into Kurt on. He has to look twice to recognize him. Kurt looks awful. He's still wearing yesterday's clothes, which are stained with salt and torn in places. He is unshaven, and there are rings under his eyes. He looks older and thinner and worn.

“Blaine,” he says. He sounds tired and hoarse, as if speaking is an effort. “I would request your assistance. We need to negotiate repairs, and your experience as a merchant can only help us. Will you accompany me?”

“Sure, but -”

“Excellent. I only need a few minutes to change.”

Then he's gone, and Blaine is standing on the steps, utterly confused. Accompany him where? Negotiate with whom? And should Kurt really go anywhere? He looks like he's about to drop any second.

Blaine continues up on deck, and sees ships, and docks, and behind, the harbor of a bustling town.

“How...”

They had been in the middle of nowhere yesterday, he's sure of it. How did they get here?

He still stands there, aghast, when Kurt reappears. He is freshly shaven and wearing new clothes that are a bit sharper even than what he's usually wearing, in dark blue with hidden sliver accents that sparkle when he moves. He even has done something to hide the circles under his eyes. They're still there, but not as apparent.

“How...?” Blaine repeats, gesturing helplessly at the port spreading out before them.

“I told you I have hidden talents.” Kurt's smile looks tired, but it's there, and it gives Blaine courage. Then Kurt looks at him, worried. “Your hands. They need cleaning, and bandaging. You should have come to me or to Quinn for it yesterday.”

Blaine looks at his hands. They're filthy with dried blood, and now that he sees them, he notices how much they ache from a thousand little wounds, and salt water burning in all of them. “I was so tired,” he says. “I never noticed.”

He expects to go to Quinn, the ship's doctor, but she is busy with others who are scraped or bleeding, and Kurt takes his arm and makes him sit. Quickly he goes to steal some of Quinn's supplies and then sits down next to Blaine, taking one of his hands and starting to clean it with swift, gentle touches. Blaine holds his breath and takes care not to look at Kurt. He needs all his concentration to stop his fingers from closing around Kurt's.

Later, they descend a step ladder down the hull of the ship into a boat waiting for them that rocks alarmingly when Blaine sets foot in it. A sailor rows them ashore, something Kurt could easily have done himself, as he explains, but like the flashy clothes, it's for appearances' sake. He has to be every inch the captain, even more so than in front of his crew, to get what he wants.

“Santana,” Kurt calls up to the first mate, who promptly appears at the railing, “organize shore leave. They've earned it.”

“Aye, captain!” Santana salutes with a wide grin. Blaine guesses she has something to look forward to on shore.

Blaine is a little scared, but he soon sees there is no need. He may not be a merchant with experience in negotiating, but he can be charming if he wants to, and he is very obviously used to getting what he wants. People react to that, and if Kurt is surprised that Blaine has to ask him the usual cost for a service, he doesn't show it.

The repairs they need are many. Blaine doesn't understand half of it, but he sees that nothing of it will be done today. At a late lunch after the first round of their errands is done, he asks Kurt about it.

“When will we be able to go on? It seems like all of this is going to need a long time.”

“Well, thanks to you, it will be faster than I feared, but yes, it will be one week at the very least, more likely two.”

Blaine slumps down in relief. It's almost as if his journey is only starting now, but with him already comfortable with sea life and the crew and most of all, the captain. He gets a week or two longer with them. He is so thankful he could weep.

Kurt misunderstands his reaction. “I'm sure your master will understand. There's nothing as unpredictable as the sea, and when he negotiated your passage, I told him that the time needed is only an estimate.”

“Yes.” Blaine nods. “I'm sure you're right.”

They need the rest of the day for their errands, ordering supplies of food that has been destroyed or spoiled during the storm, and ordering fresh water and refills for their first aid cabinet that has been sadly depleted by all the thankfully minor injuries that were to care for. Blaine looks at his bandaged hands and shudders. It could have been so much worse.

He remembers his thoughts when he thought they would all die, that at least he'd not die alone. He's profoundly ashamed of that thought. It might be a comfort, he thinks, to know that when he's gone, this ship with its wonderful crew will still be there. Still roaming the ocean, maybe remembering him once in a while.

He has gained a week, or two. He was so happy, but it's so little.

Kurt nudges him. “What's up? You seem...sad.”

Blaine tries a smile. “It's nothing. I just thought how much worse it could have been for us yesterday.”

Kurt nods. “Yes, we were lucky no one was seriously injured or even killed.”

“This morning, I thought we'd be stuck somewhere in the middle of the ocean with no mast, and have to row our way to port,” Blaine tries.

Kurt doesn't even look at him as he nods. “As I said, we were lucky.”

In between their errands, they have time to simply stroll through the city, and Blaine walks with his eyes, ears and nose wide open. It's not so far from home, yet everything is different. It's warmer, so the plants are different, the people are dressed lighter and more colorful, and the houses are built differently from the ones in the capital. The air smells differently, too, never quite losing the tang of the sea, and though the language is the same, it's spoken with a different cadence that, to Blaine's ears, makes it more musical.

At home, he sometimes used to sneak away at night with Sam, to have a drink in a tavern somewhere far away from the castle, and maybe find somebody to warm him for the night. To forget, for just a night. It felt like this, for a bit. but never enough. Never enough.

So maybe it's just that he's walking, in broad daylight, with someone he almost dares call a friend, without anybody batting an eye on him. Without fear of being recognized, of being dragged back to the castle to his duties and responsibilities followed by an early and inevitable death.

Maybe it's just that making him so bold.

“Captain,” he says, stepping closer. “Kurt -”

The captain lifts a hand to stop him.

It's almost dusk, the sun is low in the sky and the moon has just risen, but it's still light. Blaine can easily see Kurt's frown, the way his whole body is tense like that of a cat ready to pounce on its prey.

“Something's wrong,” he says, and breaks into a run. Blaine has no choice but to follow, to run behind him away from the bustling market into streets that get darker and more empty, until finally they stop, panting, before a house that on the first glance looks like a grand villa. On the second, it's clear that it's just wood painted white, with ornamental pillars that barely hold up the roof of the rickety front porch. Colorful lanterns decorate the steps and, in darkness, might make a good job of concealing the flaking paint and the moldy wood.

On the steps, Santana is fighting a brutish-looking man with a pot belly and more hair on his bare arms than on his head. He is stronger than her, but it's clear that he's already drunk, and he is encumbered by the fact that his pants aren't buckled and keep threatening to slide down whenever he moves. She is quicker, younger, and fighting with real anger and a fierce determination.

On the porch, a fat woman is standing and screaming abuse at the fighters. Her heaving bosom threatens to spill over the cleavage of her dress, and her face is like the house: handsome until one looks too close. On the top step, well away from the screaming woman, a pretty young girl is sitting, scantily clad, with a split lip that's still bleeding and a bruise forming on her cheekbone, but she is smiling as she watches Santana.

That, at least, is what Kurt tells him later. Blaine can barely see a thing, as the fighters have drawn quite a crowd and it's only seconds before, with a voice that somehow rises above the curses of the fat woman and the laughter and cheers of the crowd without ever resorting to a shout, Kurt puts a stop to the whole thing.

“Stop that madness!” he says. “Ms. Lopez, what is the meaning of this?”

Despite the stern tone and the formal address, Santana's face lights up as she sees him. She walks away from the man she was fighting, who has trouble catching his balance and finally loses control over his pants, which drop down around his ankles to the hooting laughter of the crowd. Red-faced, he pulls them up before limping to the fat woman, whispering furiously at her.

Santana pulls up the pretty blonde woman from the steps, and together they walk up to Kurt.

“He was hurting her, sir,” Santana says, and now Blaine can see that it's doubtlessly true. The young woman holds together a torn bodice, and there are traces of tears on her cheeks. Blaine takes off his jacket and puts it around her shoulders. She flinches at his touch, but then nods gratefully.

“She wouldn't stop it,” Santana continues, “and she wouldn't even tell him not to come back.” The hate-filled look she gives the fat woman on the stairs makes it clear who “she” is.

“Do you have the money?” Kurt asks. Santana looks like she's trying to hold back tears.

“No. Almost, but...I have to get her out of here. Please, Kurt. I wouldn't ask if I saw any other way.”

Kurt nods- “Take her to the ship.”

The fat woman starts screaming again as she sees Santana leave with the girl. “She's mine! You can't just steal her!”

“We will settle this tomorrow, madame,” Kurt says in his 'captain' voice, which expects quick and unquestioning obedience. The woman closes her mouth, looking furious.

As they leave, Kurt turns to Blaine and grins.

“Looks like I'm about to become a pirate after all.”

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtoberfest one-shot - “Dance with the Devil” (Rated T)

While working as a temp in a luxury office building, Kurt finds himself in an unfortunate situation, which leads him to the even more unfortunate situation of being in Sebastian Smythe's debt. (3501 words)

Rare pair - Kurtbastian

Mention of B*laine but not K*laine. B*laine friendly.

Written for the @kurtoberfest prompt "black cats, bones, and bats" and dedicated to @freakingpotter who gave me the idea, like, two years ago xD AU that assumes Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine are all in the same grade (I'm picking sophomore), and all attended Dalton together. Also messes with the timeline a little bit so that Blaine is crushing on Jeremiah during November.

Read on AO3.

“Thank you so much for coming on such short notice, Mr. Hummel,” Olivia – a petite older woman with curly blonde hair and seashell-pink plastic rimmed glasses far too big for her face – sniffles. She reminds Kurt of Carole the way her eyes turn to slits when she smiles, crinkling at the corners, and the rosy pink lipstick she wears even though it doesn’t flatter her skin. She turns her face away from Kurt when she coughs into the crook of her arm. He knows she’s trying to be discreet, but she sounds like she’s ten feet away from death’s door. “We’ve had three other temps go home early already. We were running out of hope.”

“Well, thank you for trusting your business to Eastwood Employment Agency,” Kurt says, reciting the line the agency requires him to say.

She smiles at his response, but suddenly turns and coughs again, shaking violently as she tries to catch a breath. Kurt takes a subtle step to the right, putting more airspace between them. The last thing he needs is to catch whatever she and the other receptionists have. He wants to fill his school breaks with as many jobs as he can so he can raise money for his college fund. Usually he’d just work down at his dad’s shop for extra money, but it seems that Finn has cornered the franchise on that. Besides, Kurt’s sick of staining his skin and nails doing oil changes. A nice, clean desk job, answering phone calls while he checks his social media feeds, is more his style.

“This is where you’ll sit.” Olivia leads Kurt to an impressively large, circular station in the center of the lobby, made entirely of sleek, black, marble-like stone shimmering with flecks of clear quartz embedded inside. The actual desk portion is wood - Kurt thinks mahogany – running the entire length of the stone barricade and hidden like an executive-style fort. The enclosure houses a phone, a desktop computer, a file cabinet, even a mini fridge.

“Classy,” Kurt says. He steps through the opening in the stone wall. He walks to the rolling desk chair, puts his messenger bag on the floor, and takes a seat.

“You’ll be in charge of greeting guests to the Luxe Building,” Olivia explains, snuffling the ends of her sentences. “When a visitor walks in, smile, and say …” She hacks into her arm, and this time, Kurt’s not entirely sure she’s going to recover. She coughs and coughs until her face turns beet red, wheezing like every inch of breath is leaving her body. Then she recovers quickly, turning to him with a big smile “… Welcome to the Luxe Building.” She barely misses a beat. He’s tempted to applaud. “Answer any questions they have. Most people who come here know where they’re going, but in case they don’t, bathrooms and directories are by the elevators.” She points behind Kurt to where he recalls seeing elevators when he walked in. “You’re also in charge of answering the phones and redirecting calls. There’s a booklet beside the phone with a list of extensions compiled by last name in alphabetical order. The first two numbers of an extension indicate what floor a person’s on, just in case you need to find someone that way.”

“Nothing’s computerized?” Kurt asks. He glances at the desktop computer, confused as to why a multimillion dollar building, which houses floor after floor of Fortune 500 companies, would bother with a receptionist and an ink-and-paper directory – not that he’s complaining. He’s getting $12 an hour to babysit a desk.

“The majority of the businesses in this building bypass the receptionist and have a direct line to their floor. To be honest, you’re mostly a smiling face for the odd person who comes in.”

Olivia smiles, as if to tell him that that job starts now.

Kurt smiles, eager to start earning money.

“Sounds like an easy job,” Kurt comments, wondering how he can swing a gig like this until he graduates high school.

“It can be,” Olivia agrees. “But every once in a while it can be a real pain in the tuchus.” She laughs herself into another coughing fit. Kurt searches the desk for a box of tissues. He sees a can of Lysol antibacterial cleaning wipes and logs their location away for after she’s gone. He’s going to disinfect this desk from top to bottom. “Anyway, unless you have any questions … oh, and one more thing.” She drags a crystal bowl across the counter top, bringing it to a stop closer to Kurt’s face. “We keep this bowl filled with gummy candy for whoever wants. They’re sugar-free. If you want a handful, go ahead. If you ever run out, there’s a bag under the desk. Just refill it.”

Kurt picks a few candies out of the bowl and examines them. They’re individually wrapped, ambiguously-dark colored, and in the shapes of black cats, bones, and bats. Seeing as it’s going to be Thanksgiving in a week, he finds that a little odd.

“They’re from Halloween,” she says, assuming confusion from his quirked brow, “but they’re still goo---“ This time Olivia turns completely around when she coughs. The force causes her to stumble a few steps. Kurt covers his mouth with his hand. He feels bad for her, really he does, but he doesn’t need to catch bronchitis days before he cooks a meal to feed ten people.

“I’ll be fine,” Kurt says, finding a box of tissues and tossing it up onto the counter beside the bowl. “You just go home and get better, Mrs. Parkins, and let Eastwood Employment Agency take care of the rest.”

“Oh, yes.” She reaches back for a tissue without turning around, leading Kurt to believe that something disgusting has happened just over her bowed shoulders. “Of course. Thank you.”

Kurt watches the poor woman hobble off, coughing and hacking the entire way to the elevator. The minute she steps in and the doors close, he’s alone - just him, a quiet phone, and a bowl of questionable candy. First things first, he busts out the container of cleaning wipes and wipes down everything – the counter, the bowl, the first layer of candies, the phone, the desk, the computer keyboard, the mini fridge, and the armrests on the chair. He takes his on-the-go bottle of Purell out of his bag and disinfects his hands. Then he sits in the chair and waits, poised at the ready to see if the phone will ring. When it doesn’t, he sits back in the chair and relaxes. He pulls out his phone and checks his Tumblr blog, resisting the urge to post a selfie. He doesn’t want to get fired for breaking some rule against selfie taking that he doesn’t know exists. Better safe than sorry.

He realizes when he tries to scroll down that he’s still holding a handful of gummy candy. He’d managed to clean the whole desk with them clutched in his hand. Instead of tossing them back in the bowl, he decides to throw caution to the wind. He unwraps them and shoves them in his mouth. They’re surprisingly good for sugar-free gummies. But eating that handful reminds him that he didn’t grab lunch on the way over. He’d been so excited when he got the call from Eastwood Employment Agency, he ran out of the house, not even considering the fact that he might not get a lunch break. And seeing as Olivia didn’t mention one, he’s probably screwed for food unless he can get someone to bring him something.

He texts his dad, then Carole, then Finn, going down the line of friends who might be willing to bring him lunch, and while he waits, he nibbles, gummy after gummy meeting its inevitable demise.

He switches over to Facebook. He hearts his friends’ pictures, and reads the posts on The New Directions page, but much of his wall is flooded with brag posts from people who managed to snag dates to the upcoming McKinley Winter Ball. Kurt zips past as many of them as he can at once, but when his screen stops scrolling, they’re still there, taunting him with their heteronormativity.

God, he wants a date to a school dance. Dalton is having a dance after Thanksgiving break – some conjoined winter-themed hootenanny with their sister school, Crawford Country Day. Technically, he already has a date. Mercedes offered to go with him. But as much as he loves his best friend, he wishes he could go with a boy. It would be possible at Dalton – their no-tolerance bullying policy extends to school sponsored activities. But the pickings are slim as far as gay guys go at Dalton. In fact, the only other openly gay boys that Kurt knows of are Blaine Anderson and Sebastian Smythe. His first choice would be to go with Blaine. Kurt has secretly been in love with Blaine since the day he met him. But their relationship seems to have plateaued at the friend stage, and besides, there’s a certain GAP manager that Blaine knows that seems to occupy his thoughts 24/7, even though the man hasn’t done anything other than buy him coffee. Kurt doesn’t want to be turned down on the off-chance that a 19-year-old man has nothing better to do on a Saturday night then go to a high school dance, but Kurt also doesn’t want to be Blaine’s “Plan B”.

That leaves Sebastian, and boy could Kurt leave him. Sebastian seems a bit more interested in making Kurt’s life miserable – spending every waking moment that they run in to one another reminding Kurt how ridiculously he dresses out of uniform, how low class his beginnings, how destined for life as a Lima Bean barista he is - than in anything as parochial as a high school dance. Not that Kurt would ask him. Not in this life or any other.

Besides, Sebastian seems to be on Team “Lusting After Blaine” as well, always showing up unannounced when Kurt and Blaine are having coffee together, bragging about his big wins on the lacrosse field, or how he made President of the Chess Club or Model U. N., showing off how much more accomplished he is than Kurt, how much more worthy of Blaine’s time and attention.

So he’s definitely out.

And knowing Kurt’s luck, if GAP manager guy doesn’t come through for Blaine, Blaine will probably end up with Sebastian. In fact, Kurt’s kind of surprised Sebastian hasn’t asked Blaine to go by now. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would be frightened off by the prospect of an older man possibly being Blaine’s date. Maybe Sebastian has someone else already lined up – someone he thinks will make Blaine jealous.

Ugh! Kurt thinks as he pops another handful of gummies in his mouth. He’s already given this way too much thought.

Unless Kurt wants to go stag, Mercedes might be his only option.

Kurt contemplates sending her a text to tell her to brush off that purple gown she wore to Winter Ball last year when he hears someone enter the building. Kurt swallows down a mouthful of cats, sits up straight, and is about to launch into his greeting when he hears, “Well, well, well - Kurt Hummel, secretary. It’s not a Lima Bean apron, but it still suits you.”

“Oh, God,” Kurt groans. Think of the devil, and he will appear. But why here? Why now? “Why the hell are you here, Sebastian?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Sebastian says, walking up to the counter and standing in Kurt’s line of sight. “That’s not how you’re supposed to greet guests to the Luxe Building.”

“You’re not a guest, you’re more of a parasite. Answer the question.”

Kurt expects Sebastian to decline, even threaten to tattle on him, but he doesn’t. “My uncle’s office is on the twenty-sixth floor.”

“So, you’re working in your uncle’s office over the vacation?”

Sebastian laughs so suddenly, Kurt would think the idea is so ridiculous, Sebastian has never considered it before. “God, no. I just met with him for lunch. You know, I don’t see why they need a receptionist down here. This place is usually a graveyard.” His eyes fall on the empty bowl on the counter. He scrunches his nose, picking the thing up in disbelief and turning it over. “Yuck! This bowl is never empty. I didn’t know anyone actually ate these things.”

“Why?” Kurt asks, feeling oddly offended. “They’re not that bad.”

Sebastian looks from the empty bowl to Kurt. “Wait … did you eat them?”

Kurt goes from offended to embarrassed. Now that he sees it empty, it is a rather large bowl for one human being to have eaten all of them. “Maybe.”

Sebastian chuckles, but slowly starts to look serious. “Was the bowl full? H-how many did you eat?”

Kurt looks at Sebastian, not sure what to make of his expression. Kurt’s not in the habit of trusting Sebastian. In fact, it’s yet to happen. But something about his eyes, the look of concern that Kurt’s not too sure would be easy to fake, makes Kurt nervous. “I eat when I get bored,” he says, still not willing to admit outright that he polished off the whole bowl himself. “Olivia said they’re sugar-free.”

“Uh, yeah, but still, you’re only supposed to have a few.” The look of concern doesn’t shift from Sebastian’s eyes. In fact, it deepens. Kurt swallows hard.

“Okay, yes, I ate the whole bowl. Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t get to eat lunch before I got here, and I thought it would leave a bad impression if I passed out on my first day. Look, I’ll fill it back up.” Kurt grabs the bag from beneath the desk and starts pouring more gummy candies into the bowl, not mentioning that after he emptied the bowl, he started swiping straight from the source. “See? What’s the big deal?”

“You’re not going to believe me if I tell you, and as amusing as it would be to watch you find out for yourself, I’m just going to show you.” Sebastian pulls up Amazon on his phone. He types something in, enlarges the page, then hands the phone to Kurt. On the screen is the very same sugar-free gummies Kurt has been pounding down non-stop. At first glance, he doesn’t see anything wrong with them. They’re a 3.5 star rated product, but that’s probably because people don’t usually like anything sugar-free (he tells himself). But he scrolls down to the reviews, and immediately changes his tune.

THESE THINGS MUST BE THE SPAWN OF SATAN! DO NOT BUY!

Kurt physically jerks after reading that, as if the reviewer was screaming in his face. As if that isn’t alarming enough, the reviews actually get worse.

Oh man ... words cannot express what happened to me after eating these. The Gummi Bear "Cleanse". If you are someone that can tolerate the sugar substitute, enjoy. If you are like the dozens of people that tried my order, RUN!

It was like something out of a horror movie … 

0/10 my rectum melted into thin air …

How are these still legal? I'm about to call a priest to perform an exorcism to get those little demons out of my body!

I have had these and after that I WANT TO DIE … 

This product is the government’s alternative to waterboarding terrorists …

There's not a bucket in the world big enough to hold the deluge of diarrhea that erupted after my family and I tucked into these …

On and on the reviews went, one horrific story of gastrointestinal distress after another. The seventh time he reads the word “diarrhea” he feels his stomach churn. He throws a hand over his mouth when, in actuality, he should be putting it over something else. “Oh God,” he moans. The phone starts to ring, eight lines suddenly lighting up at once, but he doesn’t hear it. All he hears as he races out from behind the desk and to the restroom is Sebastian laughing so hard, Kurt’s certain he’ll end up with a hernia.

***

Kurt doesn’t know what’s more humiliating – the fact that he spent the last half hour defiling the swankiest bathroom he has ever been in, that Sebastian Smythe knows about it, or that now he feels so weak, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to drive home. He could call his dad to come pick him up, but how would he explain this to him – without having to hear about it at every Friday night dinner or holiday meal from now till the end of time, that is? He could call Finn instead, but that option wouldn’t end much better. Worst of all, he’s pretty sure he just forfeited his paycheck. Of course, Sebastian told on him. He probably didn’t even wait till the bathroom door shut before he called Olivia and spilled the details. Kurt will come back to a phone lit up like a Christmas tree, being manned by an angry and red-faced Olivia, no longer thankful that Kurt had showed up on a moment’s notice to save the day.

Though, in retrospect, maybe he should sue, since it was her candy that turned his stomach inside out.

But what Kurt does return to is ten times more shocking than Olivia in a bathrobe and slippers.

Before he steps a foot away from the bathroom door, he hears, “Thank you for calling the Luxe Building, how may I re-direct your call? … Mr. Allen’s out of the office for the afternoon. May I transfer you to his voicemail? … I’m not sure that Ms. Cable has a three o’clock open, but I can put you through to her receptionist …” all in Sebastian’s voice. At least, Kurt thinks it’s Sebastian’s voice. He’s never heard him sound so polite before. Kurt approaches the reception area cautiously, his stomach still in a delicate condition, but wondering if he shouldn’t bypass the reception desk entirely and run for the hills. But he can’t. He left his phone and his messenger bag behind the counter. He can’t risk leaving those with Sebastian Smythe.

Sebastian turns and catches Kurt walking toward him, almost on tiptoes, as he transfers the last call. “Do I need to call maintenance, or do the toilets still flush?”

Kurt can’t stand how quickly his cheeks turn red at that remark. He wishes he could just see the humor in it. If Sebastian were Finn or Puck, Kurt might be able to laugh it off, but next to having been caught in this position by Blaine, this is horrifying.

“You covered for me while I was in the bathroom being sick?” Kurt deflects.

“Well, I didn’t want my uncle’s office missing any calls because you inhaled eight pounds of diarrhea fuel.”

“That’s very responsible of you,” Kurt says, even though he can’t say he remembers the last name Smythe anywhere on the phone directory. Of course, maybe it’s his mother’s brother, but he also can’t remember seeing any extensions for the twenty-sixth floor.

“Yeah, well, responsible’s my middle name.”

“Really?” Kurt crosses his arms. “Call me a skeptic, but I never would have guessed that.”

“And losing seventeen pounds of water weight did nothing to lighten your attitude.”

“Excuse me for being a little short, but I’m just curious what I’m going to owe you now for helping me out.”

Sebastian shrugs. He stands, relinquishing Kurt’s chair. “Maybe just say thank you.”

Kurt waits until Sebastian passes him by before he returns to his chair. He does a quick scan of the desk. His bag is where he left it, and so is his phone. Nothing looks touched. “Thank you,” Kurt says, his tone flat and dry. Sebastian frowns.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thank you. And after everything I’ve done for you.” Sebastian shakes his head disapprovingly. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something you can do to show your appreciation.”

Kurt’s jaw drops. “Wha---? I thought you said …”

“Yes, but that wasn’t a very pleasant thank you you just gave me. And as much as I’m not too sure how it would behoove me to let the knowledge slip that I just spent the last thirty minutes listening to you break ass, I’m still hoping for a proper show of gratitude.”

Kurt crosses his arms. “What show of gratitude?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll think of something,” Sebastian says, dismissively. But a sneaky grin takes over his mouth. “Hey, do you have a date to that Dalton Country Day dance?”

Kurt feels his sensitive stomach sink, cold chills radiating up his spine. “Uh … no. Why?”

Sebastian smirks. “Just curious. If I were you, I’d keep that date open. See you around.”

Kurt watches Sebastian leave, a whirlwind of awful thoughts whisking through his head, making him feel nauseous all over again.

The reviews for the gummy candies are based off these real reviews https://www.amazon.com/Haribo-Sugar-Free-Gummy-Bears/product-reviews/B008JELLCA/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_paging_btm_2?ie=UTF8&reviewerType=all_reviews&sortBy=recent&pageNumber=2

[sanctumslider]

Fic: Glass Houses, Chapter 32

Summary: In an alternate universe where all humans are empaths, Kurt Hummel is the odd one out. Registering at a mere 0.5 on the Hawkins Scale of Empathic Sensitivity, Kurt has resigned himself to a lonely life, empty of touch or true love. That is, until the mysterious Blaine Anderson transfers to McKinley, and everything Kurt thought he knew was changed. But finding love is never easy, even in a world where everyone’s emotions are shared. This is the story of the boy who could not feel, and the boy who felt too much.

[Go to Chapter 1]

[FF.net] [S&C] [AO3]

Kurt's cheek throbbed. He was tired, he ached all over, and he was in that uncomfortable limbo of being hungry but too nervous to want to eat.

But he was still holding Blaine's hand. And for that small miracle, he would go through all the pain and discomfort in the world.

"I'm sorry, I really don't remember much from after they took Molly…" Blaine trailed off, leaning tiredly into Kurt as he shifted to wrap his arms around his knees. He sounded even more tired than Kurt felt.

They had to have been in the room for over an hour by now. Kurt still wasn't sure what to make of this Dr Monroe. All his experiences of sense doctors, to the one who diagnosed him and put the sadness in his father's eyes, to the ones who pulled him crying away from his dying mother, to the ones who had condemned Blaine… each experience had built his wall of distrust higher and higher. He didn't see why this woman should be afforded anything different.

Except Blaine seemed to trust her, and that had to mean something, because Kurt trusted Blaine. Blaine hadn't been this relaxed since they had left the safety of the McKinley auditorium. Kurt stroked the back of Blaine's hand with his thumb absently, a tired calm from the other boy pooling under his fingertips.

Blaine was right. He was getting better at this. It was still so surreal, and half the time it was so fleeting that he could have sworn he was imagining it, but then he would focus and there Blaine was, a bright starscape under Kurt's skin.

"That's okay Blaine," Dr Monroe said kindly. "How about we talk about what happened out in reception, when you disappeared?"

Wait, what? Kurt blinked, and okay he was exhausted, but now she wasn't just making sense. The doctor's questions had been jumping all over the place without any discernible pattern since they sat down. First talking to Blaine, then Kurt, then Blaine, covering a range of topics from Molly's favourite cat food to Kurt's favourite class at McKinley, to how Wes felt to Blaine, and the first time Kurt had sensed Blaine.

Blaine simply shrugged, "Kurt helps. He did the same when that man grabbed me, and his girlfriend tried to get me to calm down, and everyone in the street hated Kurt, and the man threw Kurt into the car and-" Blaine's voice rose with stress as he started to relive what had happened, and he forcibly cut himself off, taking a steadying breath. On instinct, Kurt brought their joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of Blaine's hand.

He didn't want to think about that. About the moment when he'd thought he had lost Blaine forever. But the doctor had other ideas as she asked gently, "Can you describe it to me Blaine?"

Kurt clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, trying to force that horrible freefall of remembered despair from his mind.

The moment he lost Blaine's hand, and a huge guy threw him so hard into a car that he lost his footing and cracked his head on the sidewalk.

The morbid blend of genuine fear for his life, and utter terror for what was happening to Blaine.

Because he had felt it, and wasn't that the joke?

The first time he senses Blaine without touching him, and he has to feel himself shatter Blaine's heart with a misguided lie.

The second time he senses Blaine without touching him, and Kurt is too far away to catch Blaine before he feels his boyfriend get swept away into a raging current of everyone's emotions but his own.

Blaine had tried to explain to Kurt what his first empathic episode had felt like, but no words could have come close to the drowning, sucking pressure that had pulled Blaine under so deep he nearly disappeared from Kurt forever.

Kurt never wanted to feel that again. It had been even worse than the screams.

The helplessness had been unbearable.

He remembered the woman letting go of Blaine, he remembered the chaos of suddenly too many people who had no clue what to do. He remembered scrambling to his feet, taking advantage of the confusion to shove the now distracted man out of his way to dart those crucial three strides, catching Blaine just as the other boy crumpled like he was a puppet and all his strings had been cut.

He remembered knowing that Blaine was gone, knowing that Blaine had been swept away and wasn't ever coming back.

He remembered futilely refusing to accept it, pressing his forehead to Blaine's as if by that contact and a few meaningless words he could bring Blaine back.

And then, impossibly, Kurt remembered feeling a tiny glimmer of Blaine, a glimmer which bloomed into a spark, flaring into a constellation of perfect stillness, quiet and calm.

"Kurt is silence," Blaine spoke his words carefully, softly, and Kurt's immediate relief at not having to relieve that horrific moment out loud gave way quickly to confusion. "One moment everything just hurt so much, and I was drowning, gone… and then I wasn't, because Kurt was there. And he made it quiet enough for me to be me again."

Kurt's mouth dropped open slightly, and he shook his head, "I didn't do anything…"

Blaine squeezed his hand, smiling at him in a way that despite the situation made Kurt's stomach flip pleasantly. "You were still there, there like you normally are, on the edge but not pushing any further. But everyone else was gone, and it was so perfectly silent – just me and you." A blush crept up Blaine's cheeks as he spoke the words out loud.

An indefinable lump formed in Kurt's throat, making it hard to swallow. He glanced between the doctor and Blaine as he repeated, "But I didn't do anything. I just didn't want to lose you, and then you came back."

"And what about when the agents brought you into the clinic earlier?" Dr Monroe prompted, "Blaine was a little distressed – only to be expected after what he's been through – and then he was gone to my sense. The same as you are, Kurt."

Kurt just stared at her incredulously. Sure, Blaine was so high on the scale that somehow, impossibly, Kurt was able to sense him. But for the reverse to be true? For Kurt to be able to muffle Blaine's overloaded world, to draw him into a closed off world of silence and contained emotion? That was…

Impossible.

Kurt fumbled through his explanation, bolstered by the tingling confidence Blaine felt in him, "I just… Blaine felt a little panicky, and everyone was talking about what was going to happen and freaking us both out a bit, and I just wanted him to know that I wasn't going to leave him,"

There was a tiny crack in the doctor's professionalism as her shoulders drooped slightly and she rubbed her face with her hand, and tiny laugh bubbling in her throat. "And then Blaine's empathic sense stretched out again, and he was stable and calm. Which is medically impossible."

"Obviously not," Blaine refuted.

"No Blaine," Dr Monroe said earnestly, placing her palms together in front of her. "I need you both to understand this. What happened tonight, what happened this week, is not possible within the realms of current medical and empathic science. And however overwhelmingly glad I am that this is not the case, you shouldn't be alive right now."

"But he is," Kurt said.

"Because of you," Dr Monroe agreed. "Because of something impossible you did, that as far as we know, no one has ever done before."

"What does that mean?" Blaine asked, nerves skipping and scratching up Kurt's spine.

"I honestly don't know. But I promise you both that I will do everything in my power to keep you together until we find out."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand, love clear in his grip. And then he let go, leaning forward to hug Dr Monroe tightly, "Thank you."

Kurt watched her smile, eyes slightly too bright as she laughed, "You haven't hugged me since you were eight." She pulled back, frowning, studying Blaine intently for a moment before running her gaze critically over Kurt. "And I think it's high time the pair of you get some sleep, and we get some ice on that nasty cut."

"What about the agents?" Kurt asked.

"I'm admitting you both to a private sense ward. Not only will it give me full autonomy over what happens next and give me time to sort out this mess, I'm not happy with the idea of either of you leaving my sight until we understand more about what's going on with your empathic senses."

"We're not sick," Blaine said stubbornly.

"No, you're not. But for the moment this is the safest place for you." She sighed regretfully, "And as I'm sure you've already worked out, I'm afraid we've only scratched the surface of tests."

"Is that really necessary?" Kurt asked. "Blaine's back to normal."

Blaine took Kurt's hand again, resignation mixed with exhaustion clear in his eyes. "I'm never going to be normal, Kurt."

"Even if the aftermath was unprecedented, Blaine still experienced a high grade empathic episode. We need to know how is body is coping, even if his mind is intact," Dr Monroe explained, before checking her watch. "It's nearly midnight – definitely time for you boys to get some rest. Wait here, I'll be back in a moment after I've talked to your parents and sorted a room. I hope you understand, but I'm going to lock you in. There is a panic button on the wall by the door if you need me for anything. I'll also arrange something for you to eat, but in the meantime there should be some chocolate in that cabinet over there while you wait."

"Thanks Dr Monroe," Blaine said gratefully. "Thank you for listening to us."

The sense doctor smiled sadly as she slipped on her shoes and coat, pulling out a keycard from the pocket. "You don't need to thank me Blaine."

The door clicked shut behind her with the deeper tone of an automatic lock, and Kurt finally let himself breathe. Without words, he twisted and slipped his arms to rest on Blaine's shoulders, as Blaine's arms looped around his waist, their legs tangling from where they sat on the floor.

The tension drained visibly from their muscles, and for a moment they just let themselves be. And then Blaine nuzzled Kurt's neck, pulling back to meet his gaze before softly pressing forward in a kiss.

Gone were the tentative, fleeting glimpses of gold in the darkness, barely perceptible to Kurt's closed senses. Now with a simple kiss came a flooding starscape, enfolding Kurt in a reflected sky that was for them alone.

Reluctantly Kurt pulled back, "Come on, let's get you some chocolate."

"Worried Dr Monroe will walk in on us with our parents?" Blaine asked tiredly but cheekily, sitting back.

"Something like that," Kurt grinned, standing up to raid the cabinet before returning to the floor with a handful of candy bars. "Does the sugar kick really help?" Kurt asked curiously.

Blaine shrugged, "Sometimes I think it helps because I've been told it helps, but my ES does make my metabolism run faster. It's why I sometimes get tired and loopy when I'm stressed out." There was quiet for a moment as Blaine took a bite, before he said plainly, "I can't believe they're not going to separate us."

Kurt's breath caught, the edge of reality knotting his stomach. He nearly didn't voice his reply. He nearly kept the nasty little voice hidden in the dark depth of his heart. But this was Blaine, and if he couldn't tell Blaine his fears, they who could he? "It's not morning yet."

Blaine's gaze flicked sharply to Kurt's, and even without touch Kurt felt an arrow of determination and love. "Then let them try. I won't let you go."

TBC

[nemesisbinxartifactseries]

Artifact Series H

HAL 9000 Prop

Hal Blaine's Drum Stick

H.G. Wells' Opera Glasses

H.H. Holmes' Murder Hotel

Hachiko's Collar

Hades' Bident

Hades' Helm

Hadji Ali's Bag of Hazelnuts

Hakim Abu'l-Fath Gilani's Hookah *

Halite Sculpture from the Dead Sea

Halloween Apple

Halloween Candy Container

Halo Master Chief Helmet

Halotus' Poisoned Feather

Haman's Robe

Hamburger Hill Hand Grenade

Hammer from Kristallnacht

Hammurabi's Ring

Handcuffs from the Magic Castle

The "Hand of Faith"

Hand of Justice

Hand of Midas

Handsy Table Saw

Hanging Garden of Babylon

'Hang Nelson Mandela' Posters

Hank Aaron's Batting Equipment

Hannah Duston’s Tomahawk

Hannibal Bacra of Carthage's Elephant Tusk

Hannibal Barca of Carthage's Whip *

Hannie Schaft's Bullet Charm

Hanno the Navigator's Gorillai Skin

Hans Berger's Notepad

Hans Christian Andersen's Bedroom Wall Painting

Hans Christian Andersen's Mechanical Nightingale*

Hans Christian Anderson's Sled

Hans Christian Ørsted's Compass

Hans Talhoffer's Shield

Hans von Bulow's Piano Wire *

Hansje Brinker’s 'Index Finger'

Harland David Sander's Recipe Journal

Harlem Globetrotter's Basketball

Harley Quinn's Mallet

Harman Rundfunk Helmet *

Harold P. Warren's Clapperboard

Harold Shipman's Bonesaw

The Harpe Brothers' Tomahawk

Harriet Powers’ Quilt

Harriet Tubman's Thimble *

Harris Farmer's Hoe

Harrison D. McFaddin's Emeralite Lamps

Harry Belafonte's Spotlight

Harry Blackstone, Sr.'s Light Bulb *

Harry Einstein's Italian Bell

Harry Harlow’s Monkey Models

Harry Houdini's Boxing Glove

Harry Houdini's Skeleton Key

Harry Houdini's Water Torture Chamber *

Harry Houdini's Wallet *

Harry Hurt’s Helmet

Harry Kellar's Lamp *

Harry Powers’ Wallet

Harry Richman's Lapel Pin

Harry S. Truman's Newspaper

Harry Wheatcroft's Rose

Harry Winston's Loupe *

Harvey Fletcher's Hearing Aid

Harvey Glatman’s Camera

Harvey Lillard’s Mop

Harvey Korman's Cufflinks *

Hassan-i-Sabbath's Qama Dagger

Hassan-i Sabbah's Turban

Haste-Detecting Traffic Light

Hatfield and McCoy Family Rifles *

Hat from The Harlem Shake

Hatshepsut's Golden Beehive *

The Haunting of Hill House

Hayao Miyazaki's Paper

Hayreddin Barbarossa's Cannons

Head from Emperor Qin’s Terracotta Soldier

Head Lights from 1972 Imperial LeBaron

Headlamp from Dagen H

Headman's Mask from the Tower of London

The Heart of Frankenstein's Monster

Heart of the Ocean

Heat-Seeking Roman Candles

Heat Sensitive Mug

Heath Ledger's Scissors

Heaven's Gate Homepage

Hector Lavoe's Maracas

Hedda Hopper's Dictation Machine

Hedy Lamarr's Radio

Heel String Gang Prison Shank

Heimdall's Trumpet

Heinrich Hertz's Battery

Heinrich Himmler's Wristwatch

Heinrich Müller‘s Golden Party Badge

Heinrich Wilhelm Matthias Olbers’ Telescope

Heinz Guderian's Enigma Machine

The Heirloom Seal of the Realm

Helche's Hennin

Helen Gandy's Filing Cabinets

Helen Keller's College Diploma

Helen Keller's Pencil

Helen of Troy's Cuff Bracelet *

Helen of Troy's Comb *

Helmet and Greaves from Pompeii

Hendrick Avercamp's Ice Skating Shoes

Hendrick Lucifer's Gold Doubloon

Hendrick Lucifer's Matchbook

Henri Becquerel's Maltese Cross

Henri Cartier-Bresson's Photograph

Henri Moissan's Fluorine

Henri de Sourdis' Nautical Andirons

Henri Le Sidaner's "The Door of Spirit's"

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec's Cane

Henrietta Robinson's Shawl

Henry V's Battle Helmet

Henry VIII's Belt

Henry Brown's Wooden Crate

Henry Clay’s Straw Hat

Henry Cotton's Tooth Clamp

Henry C. Wayne’s Saddle

Henry D. Cogswell’s Drinking Fountain

Henry Dreyfuss' Princess Telephone *

Henry E. Erwin's Medal of Honor

Henry Elwes' Jug

Henry Every's Parasol

Henry Ford's Personal Model T

Henry Fuseli's Stole

Henry Fuseli's The Nightmare *

Henry Geber's Glass Figurines

Henry Halleck's General Hat

Henry Heimlich's Tie

Henry J. Heinz's Bottle

Henry Meigg's Warrant Book

Henry Moore’s Hill Arches

Henry Morgan's Sword

Henry Morton Stanley's Map *

Henry Reed Rathborne's Uniform Buttons

Henry Rose's Original Barbed Wire

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Cross

Henry Weinhard's Distiller

Henry Work's Grandfather Clock *

Sir Henry Wyatt's Stone Cat

Hephaestus' Anvil

Hera's Peacock Feather Fan

Heracles' Bow and Arrows

Heraclitus' Knucklebones

Herb Caen’s Toothpick

Herbert Morrison's Microphone

Herbie the Love Bug

Herb Stempel's Headset

Hercules' Rattle

Herman Hollerith’s Tabulating Machine

Herman Lamm’s Stopwatch

Herman Melville's Harpoon

Hermann Ebbinghaus' Pencil

Hermann Goring's Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross

Hermann Rorschach's 10 Cards

Hermann von Helmholtz's Research Papers

Hermann von Teschenberg's Veil

Hermaphroditus' Gold Bracelets

Hermes' Talaria

Hernan Cortez's Espada Ropera

Hernan Cortez’s Golden Signet Ring

Hernan Cortez's Helmet *

Hernán Pérez de Quesada's Tunjo

Hernando de Soto's Dry Compass

Hero's Aeolipile

Hero and Leander's Lamp

Herodotus' Dish

Herod the Great's Sword

Herophilos' Knife

Herostratus’ Lantern

Herschell Gordon Lewis' Jar of Fake Blood

Hestia's Cauldron

Heston Blumenthal's Chemistry Equipment

Hesy-Ra’s Leather Bag

Hideaki Akaiwa’s Wetsuit

Hildegard of Scopia's Lute *

Hippie Drum Circle

Hippocrates' Fibula *

Hippocrates' Leech Jar

Hippolyta's Girdle

Hippolyte Bernheim’s Cravat

Hillary and Tenzing's Climbing Googles

Hilary Cranston's Rolling Pin

Hiram Abiff's Masonry Tools *

Hiren Roy's Sitar

Hitachi Maxell Speaker

Hitoshi Christopher Nikaidoh's Elevator Suspension Wires

HMS Challenger

HMS Dreadnought Hoax Costumes

HMS Erebus' Bell

HMS Falkland

Hold-It Bedpan  

Hole-in-One Golf Club *

Holly and Oak Wands

Holocaust Skin Lamp

Holt Collier’s Rope

Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch

Holy Lance

Homer's Scrolls

Homestuck Artifacts

Homunculus (Outdated form)

Hon'ami Koetsu's Ceramic Bowl

Hon'ami Kōetsu’s Lacquer Box

Honda Tadakatsu’s Kabuto

'Honey Do You Love Me?' Pin

Honjo Masamune *

Honoré Daumier's Canvas

The Hope Diamond *

Hopi Hallucinating Gourd *

Horace-Bénédict de Saussure's Solar Oven

Horace Wells’ Top Hat

Horace Westlake Fink's Bronze Baby Shoes *

Horatio Nelson's Compass

Horatio Nelson Jackson's Steering Wheel

Horemheb’s Ushabtis

Horizontal Oak Tree

Horse Cigarette Case

Horseshoes from the Execution of François Ravaillac

Horus' Boat

Hospital Baby Blanket

The Hot Potato  

Hot Wheels Toy Car

The Hounds of Alcinous

House of Commons Masonry *

House Peters, Jr.'s Mop

Howard Carter's Coffee Pot *

Howard Carter's Shovel

Howard Hughes' Coasters Set

Howard Thurston's Floating Playing Cards *

Howard Thurston's Sword Cabinet

H.P. Lovecraft's Silver Key *

Hsinbyushin's Wooden Stork *

Hua Mulan's Fan

Huangbo Xiyun's Hanfu

Hua Tuo's Scalpel*

Hubert Wilkins' Piece of the Nautilus

Hubert Wolfe+585 Sr's Letterpress

Hugh Beaver’s Barstool

Hugh Casey's Pitcher's Glove

Hugh Everett's Pen

Sir Hugh De Morvilles' Mace *

Hugh Glass' Bear Hide

Hugh Hefner's Smoking Jacket

Hugh O' Flaherty's Bible

Hugo Grotius' Book Chest

Hugo Weigold's Net

Huitzilopochtli's Sacrificial Bowl

Human Borescope

Hummingbird Button

Humphrey Bogart's Cigarettes

Hunter Doherty Adam's Jack-in-the-Box *

Hunter S. Thompson's Briefcase

Hunter S. Thompson's Sunglasses

Hunter's Hoodie

Hunting Camouflage Outfit

Hyder Ali’s Mysorean Rockets

Hydrophobic Umbrella

Hygroscopic Wet Floor Sign

Hyman G. Rickover’s Pressurized Water Reactor

Hypatia's Chariot

Hypno's Pendulum

Hypnos’ Poppy

[dillonknetes1-blog]

7 Medicine Cabinet Necessities (And a few Issues You do not Want, Too)

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