#like i read. a decent amount. of the home of the blizzard and that book was kind of incredibly boring

[johntorrington]

the nimrod expedition was the wild west. it’s like a frat house where everyone ended up becoming a politician. guys there would go on to be part of the AAE, the terra nova, the endurance, the ross sea party AND the karluk. some dudes climbed a volcano that had never been climbed before- without anything close to proper gear and ended up chucking some of their stuff down the mountain to get back faster. george marston was getting really into drag. shackleton was just out of his weird polycule divorce with scott and wilson. they had a little canvas bathtub that multiple people took nudes in. a 50 year old geologist was put in charge of a manhauling party and was so bad at it he had to be threatened with being declared insane by the doctor in order for him to hand command over to mawson. aeneas mackintosh lost an eye. the car. they got a new furthest south but shackleton ended up so badly in debt he tried to get into gold mining. what a time.

[bastsoldtrollblog]

Kairos trudged through the snow, head bowed against the howling wind, cursing themselves for forgetting how bitter the weather was out here. Of course, they used to love these raging blizzards...When they were out of the wind, in the safety of their castle.

At least their new ‘lusus’ seemed to know the way. She trudged on, pressed almost to the ground, and Kairos had to keep close watch on her tail to make sure they didn’t lose sight of her.

Getting the time off work for this excursion was difficult, but in order to delve again into the art of necromancy, they needed their old research. If it were even still intact; Those rebels might have destroyed everything.

Still, even if it were all gone they had their reasons for paying their old hive a visit. The treasury, for starters. They could live a bit more luxuriously- Not that they had much of an eye for it, anymore- With the help of the copious amount of relics and gold artifacts from there. At the very least they wouldn’t have to worry about rent.

The rest was just nostalgia. Seeing if their original lusus was still around, so on and so forth.

They had all but stumbled through the castle gates by the time they realized they’d even reached their home. The blizzard had created full white-out conditions, and they could scarcely see a few feet in front of them.

They heard their lusus call from somewhere ahead, and trudged through the large courtyard to the safety of the entrance hall.

Immediately, they realized the castle had not been left derelict. Torches were lit inside, and they didn’t immediately see any signs of disrepair. They caught sight of their lusus slipping away down one of the halls and, judging by the fact that she wasn’t calling after them or trying to drag them along, they assumed she did not want them to follow.

They drew a dagger in favor of their sword- Too unwieldy if they came upon a foe suddenly- And proceeded with caution.

They made a beeline for their main study first. This was no longer a casual jaunt down memory lane; This was practically home invasion.

They immediately saw that the study had been rearranged and many books were missing off the shelves. They hastily began searching, though they were unsure exactly of what they were looking for. They’d written far too many research notes to take everything, so they needed things pertaining specifically to necromancy. At least they still recalled their organization system, not that it wasn’t in complete disarray.

They weren’t finding any of their research notes at all, related to necromancy or not. They found plenty of books on magic, their personal journals, but none of their notes.

“Dad?”

A voice called down the hall outside the study. Kairos grit their teeth, mentally cursing and backing away. They pressed their back against the wall behind the open doors, waiting. Footsteps padded along the thick carpet down the hall. Kairos heard him stop in front of the open study doors. His breathing sounded shallow, tense. They could sense his trepidation. Their grip tightened on their dagger as they estimated exactly where he was, what path he would take into the study- How easily they could land a surprise attack and gain the upper hand.

The troll took a few cautious steps in, and then moved further ahead, heading towards the desk apparently without looking behind the doors.

Kairos lunged, grabbing one arm, twisting it behind his back, and pressing their dagger to the troll’s throat. Kairos had seen a hint of fuchsia fin, which meant they couldn’t easily overpower him.

“Be still, or I’ll slit your throat.” They hissed, when the troll attempted to struggle. He froze, taking a few moments to gauge the situation, and then made a demand.

“What do you want??”

“My research. Where is it.”

“What?”

“I wrote many notes on various schools of magic, that were kept in this study. Where are they.”

The troll hesitated, and Kairos pressed the dagger closer to his throat. They could sense this troll’s magic; He had to know what they were talking about.

“I-Is your name- Kairos?”

“So you’ve read them. Where are they.”

“H-Hey- Listen! I’m your descendant! Ramira Mikari!”

“I have no descendants.” Kairos hissed, but glanced up to the troll’s horns. Sure enough, they matched their own, minus the icicles. That didn’t mean Kairos was about to let him go.

“Just look at my horns! We share a name!”

“A sibling, perhaps, but not a descendant. My research, Ramira.” Kairos pressed the blade hard enough to draw blood.

“It’s in my room!”

“The master bedroom?”

“The one next to it...”

Kairos paused. They couldn’t just bind his arms and leave him; He could easily get free with a spell. They relaxed, letting him go, and Ramira darted forward out of their grasp, rubbing his throat.

“Christ,” hissed Ramira. “I thought you’d be kind of a dick, but...”

“Ah, for once I am not a disappointment.”

Kairos stepped back out of the study, turning and stalking down the hall- Only to come face-to-face with a snow leopard. A glance at the eyes confirmed it was neither their current lusus nor their original one, but related all the same.

The leopard meowed at them and sat down. They hesitantly reached out, and then gave the leopard a pat on the head when it seemed to consent.

“Did you have a snow leopard lusus too?” Ramira had followed them out of the study.

“Yes. Is he around?”

“Uh...This is the only snow leopard I’ve seen. I found the body of one in, uh, I think the master bedroom.”

Kairos furrowed their brow, and continued onwards past the leopard. “What did you do with it?”

“I put it in the catacombs.”

Kairos hummed in response. Ramira followed them all the way to the master bedroom, though Kairos stopped and walked right into the room next to it that Ramira had claimed as his own.

Ah. That was definitely a heap of their research notes. Kairos immediately began digging through it; It wasn’t even remotely organized. They were surprised Ramira wasn’t more aggressive towards them, all things considered, but apparently he wasn’t too willing to attack his sibling.

“If you aren’t my ancestor, then who is?”

“Cataclysm, likely. There are books on him in the ancillary study.”

“Oh. Haven’t really looked through that one, yet. What was he like?”

“Do you think I know?”

Ramira put up his hands defensively, making a face and looking away. “Okay, okay. Sheesh.”

“I put a knife to your throat and you still see fit to bombard me with questions?” Kairos hissed.

“You didn’t kill me, so...”

“I am starting to think I should have.”

Ramira backed away a few steps. And then decided to ask another question. “What are you looking for?”

“My studies on necromancy.”

“There’s one on the desk.”

Kairos looked over towards the desk, and then resumed digging through the pile. Ramira cautiously approached, sitting down on the other side of the pile and starting to sort. “Sorry. I should’ve organized this sooner.”

Kairos hummed in response again. By the end of it they had four of their research notes on necromancy, including the one that had been on the desk, and a fifth book they had grabbed on their studies of their own magical ability. That might hold some insight on their current, uncontrollable state.

Shoving the books into their backpack, Kairos stood and began making their way towards the catacombs.

“Hey- Listen- Can we just talk? For a second?”

“About what?”

Kairos stopped, rounding on Ramira, who also stopped dead and faltered.

“Um- Well- We’re related, and all. We’re both mages. And you lived here a while. There’s gotta be...Something you can tell me.”

“There no doubt is. However, I do not care nor do I have the time to share it. Learn on your own. There is nothing I could tell you that is not already contained here.”

“Jesus christ, are you always like this?”

“Yes.” Kairos turned and continued onwards. Ramira apparently thought twice about following, but still ultimately did so. At least he followed in silence.

The already-freezing temperature dropped as they descended the stairs leading to the catacombs. The air shifted, and with it came a horrible crawling sensation. It felt as though the air itself were writhing, heavy and toxic. The stones themselves seemed to be twisting in agony.

This place was cursed, sickening, unfit for life, and still Kairos pressed on.

“Can you at least tell me what the fuck is up with this place? Why is it like this?” Ramira said, finally. At least he had the sense to keep his voice low- And even then, a shriek echoed from some distant depth in the catacombs in response. “Jesus-” Started Ramira, stumbling a few steps back. Kairos ignored it.

“Our dear ancestor trapped the souls of his most detested enemies here. Being a highly successful conqueror, his enemies were many.”

“What was that scream??”

“A banshee, perhaps. Or one of the many twisted souls here.”

Kairos reached the treasury- Kept on the same level of the catacombs to deter ordinary thieves, who could scarcely set foot below the castle without being overcome with fear. They dumped their backback on the ground and began filling what space remained with treasure.

“Seriously??”

“This is as much my inheritance as it is yours.”

“Yeah, but...Jeeze, have some dignity.”

Kairos just scoffed, and once they’d gathered a decent amount, they straightened. Ramira seemed about ready to book it, nervously glancing over his shoulder as though something might come creeping up behind him.

“Show me to the snow leopard you brought here.”

Ramira rubbed his arms anxiously, and then turned to lead Kairos into the catacombs.

He hadn’t brought the corpse far, just into the next room where there was an empty slat in the wall. Kairos scooped the frozen corpse out, glancing towards a half-frozen zombie that had noticed them and was attempting to shamble towards them.

Ramira was bristling with fear. Kairos snorted and moved to carry the leopard’s corpse out.

“Please. It couldn’t bite you even if you let it,” they said, brushing past Ramira.

“This is fucking scary! Don’t tell me you can’t feel it!”

“I can, likely moreso than you. I spent much time down here, however.”

“So you were a necromancer?”

“To some extent. I studied many things.” Though they couldn’t deny that they had a particular interest in death and the beyond.

Kairos carried the leopard’s corpse to one of their old workrooms by the study; This, it seemed, had been untouched. They cleared a table and set down the corpse. Ramira had followed them the entire way.

“Can you light these sconces?” Asked Kairos, picking up an old tool from a tray.

“Can’t you?” Ramira said, still moving to light them anyway.

“My magic is all but useless.”

Ramira looked to them, confused, but Kairos didn’t care to elaborate. Their surgical tools were ruined, unfortunately, and they had to wait around for the corpse to thaw before they could handle it.

They opted to check the eyes first. They were half rotted, but Kairos still recognized the iris’ pattern.

It was their lusus, without a doubt.

Not that they were surprised.

They stayed for two nights to handle the corpse. Ramira- Or Mira, as he preferred to be called- Came and bothered them a few times, pestered them with questions, but ultimately did his best to be helpful. Not that he couldn’t do much; It turned out he was almost as useless as Kairos when it came to magic.

By the end of their stay, Kairos had the bones and fur of their lusus in a duffel bag provided by Mira. The bones were badly cleaned, but that was fine; They at least had something to bring back to Eirene.

As Kairos stepped towards the kitchen portal that lead to a nearby town, Mira spoke up. “Are you going to come back?”

“Likely not.”

“...Can I have your number?”

“...Fine.”

Kairos stopped to enter their phone number into Mira’s phone, and paused as they handed it back. “Do not rapid-fire text or call me.”

“I’m not that much of an asshole, jeeze...”

“You’ve been doing the physical version of it for the past two nights.”

“I have not!”

Kairos didn’t care to argue. They turned to step onto the teleportation circle, before stopping again. “One more thing. My lusus; How did you find him?”

“Uh...He was curled up on the bed. Almost like he were sleeping.”

Kairos narrowed their eyes, and then stepped onto the teleportation circle, vanishing in an instant.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 49

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We left Wutai behind weeks ago and sold the horse in Shumi at the same vendor that I'd bought it from with a considerable mark down.

I didn't really care much about that.

Instead I cared about securing an airship in Mistral. Which we did after the train ride from Shumi.

"You're going to be able to fly this thing?"

Neo nodded. Our relationship changed slightly after Wutai. She knew that I wasn't blowing smoke about my origins. She knew I wasn't lying about Mother's control over my mind.

She knew how dead serious I was and a bit more about how fucking crazy I really could be.  

Good.

Don't cross me, Neo. I'm not a man whose bad side you want to be on. Don't believe me, just watch.

We walked out on an air-pad together in Mistral. We climbed aboard our small military freighter together. It was a small ship with the Mistrali cockpit to it and a bit of Atlas inspiration in the geometry of the wings.

She strapped herself into the pilot's seat and bit back a bit of yawn.

I sat back in the cabin and kicked my legs up. I pulled out the little black book we'd gotten from Merlot's laboratory and began to read through it. My new favorite pastime.

There I was, notes on me and how my skeletal structure was forming. Sketches of me at different stages of my development. It was the closest thing I had to a family picture book.

"You know where to be able to land this thing in Solitas?"

She shrugged at the same time she nodded.

"Good. We'll get there and the first thing we'll need is data, not money." This plane had run me a few hundred grand but I still had a few million Lien. A small fortune.

Neo still had all of her money from the last one. I'd run the lion's share of our expenses out of my pockets.

"That means heists regarding the most valuable of commodities."

She gave me a backwards glance as she started the plane up.

"No, not water Neo. Don't be ridiculous."

She rolled her eyes at me.

"Its information. Unfortunately my semblance doesn't give me a million eyes and the ability to hear and see shit across the city. I'm just good at smashing kneecaps. So that's what we'll have to do."

"I want to know what Ironwood is up to. I want to know if there is a maiden in Solitas. I want to know where she is, if she's there. I want to know how she takes her tea or if she drinks coffee. She'll either be summer or winter, because Cinder is fall and spring."

I read through a few notes of how my musculature was tested through dance while I was in the tube. My father hadn't wanted me to know how to fight but needed a way to test my movement. Dancing was good for that while floating in embryonic liquid.

It also gave my nervous system the tests he felt it needed.

The fucking sicko.

Neo held up her scroll at me with some typed words.

"Ice-cream?" I asked, reading aloud. "Sure we can get some when we land. You've more than earned it. We'll find a cafe, get you a sunday if you want."

She gave me a glittering smile and ran through some preflight checks. She flipped a few switches I could only guess the purposes of.

"Yeah yeah you're an old fashioned ice-cream girl. I should have guessed."

I pulled out my pipe. I started to pack it and my mouth watered slightly. Neo turned on the no smoking light in response. I grumbled and stowed the pipe in my pocket again. She just gave me a smug grin.

"This is how you repay me?"

She held her nose.

"Yeah I guess. A bit stuffy in here. Can't exactly open a window, either. I have to wait to smoke and you've got to wait on that ice-cream. Is that it? Fair enough, I suppose."

The bullhead took off with a hovering heave.

I read a little more out of my little black book in Merlot's tight scrawl.

Subject has been implanted with memories of living in the areas surrounding Vale. I avoided giving him memories of nearby locations in the event that he escapes.

That cruel son of a bitch.

He spasms and calls out for his mother. I can only assume he means Salem. It appears she is imparting him with some memories of her own, she does so even as I write and sleep. I should like to find out more. What all she leaves him with in addition to my own vat training creates an unpredictable specimen, however. I fear letting him out of the tank and it's doubtful we could have a reasonable dialogue. I wonder if Salem would pay a price to have him.

It may be a method to acquire more of her cells. A trade of sorts, for this son. She already gave up some cells for inferior Grimm specimens I created. It may just be possible.

At some point the text just ended. With no mention of how I ended up in Vale with a sword or even the falsified huntsman records. I could only guess at how that happened. Salem claimed to have had a bit of role in that. Making sure I infiltrated Beacon and was on my way with Ozpin none the wiser but I was no closer to figuring out how she'd done it.

Perhaps she took Merlot up when he tried to sell me back to her and used yet another of her agents. It was unclear.

What was clear was that I was a bit of a mess. A bunch of accidents had created me and left me in the state that Merlot had dubbed a partial failure. Salem had been poisoning my mind before I left the womb, so to speak. It was possible she continued to poison me in my dreams now.

And with that terrifying thought I closed the book and tried to get some shut-eye as the plane flew.

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We landed in Solitas in the depths of a pine subarctic forest. Neo put us down in a clearing and the plan was to hitch a short ride to Mantle by train or car in a nearby township.

It was the borders of Solitas that were closed so now that we were on the northern continent I didn't expect that we'd encounter resistance to our arrival.

"You're not wanted here, are you?"

Neo shrugged.

I took that as meaning, 'if anyone recognizes me.' So probably no more than in Mistral. We'd walked around pretty freely down there so, again, I didn't expect much trouble.

"You've got disguises on you, too, though." She rolled her eyes and they turned green and her hair switched to black before they all shifted back to their natural colors.

I nodded and set about unfolding a tarp over the top of the airship to protect it from the elements. We couldn't exactly get it close to the city without alerting Atlesian air-control to our presence.

Neo was mute and couldn't respond to air traffic controllers and we didn't know the appropriate communication codes to fly into the airspace, besides.

The whole place was in a state of lockdown, unlike Mistral and Vale, and they'd probably shoot us down if we didn't skirt the edges. I'd been worried a patrol might head us off and start shooting at us even as far away as we'd flown.

I tied the tarp tight over the ship with bungee-cords and refueled it from the dust supply we'd brought in the back of the ship. It took powdered burn, and a hefty amount of it too but we couldn't exactly refuel around here.

It took us a bit of a hike to get to the nearest township, Senew, we'd had to land far enough away that no one could have seen us.

I marked the place we landed on the map on my scroll so we wouldn't lose the airship. It would be hard to find again unless we knew where to look. And that's assuming it didn't get buried under snow in the meantime.

I marched through the snow drifts. My clothes which had been a stray too hot down in Mistral under all my armor were more at home here. The thick cape didn't help with getting through the drifts but my boots were key.

Neo had to step along through my foot prints, following me. She was short enough that I was worried I might lose her if she had to mark her own trail. I had to resist the urge to laugh at her tiny form as she struggled through the snow, something I knew she wouldn't take well.

I lit my pipe and eventually we made our way to Senew.

I found a small cafe and ordered Neo ice-cream, just as I'd promised her. I wasn't sure if she'd change her mind because of the cold weather but she seemed content with her selection. It couldn't have been a popular order in this cold. She deserved a treat after flying all the way here and then hiking a few kilometers in the snow, though. I ordered a hot coffee and we sat together in the cafe.

"Are you sure you won't be cold?"

She nodded.

"It's just that you're so small. And your ice-cream is so large." It was a decently sized sunday topped with a banana and hot fudge. I suppose that the hot fudge might help with the cold.

She kicked me under the table.

"It's adorable."

She kicked me again.

"Alright, alright. It's not adorable."

She glowered.

"I just can't win with you, can I, Neo?"

She gave me a look that said 'you're not even trying to win with me.'

"Fair enough. So this is Solitas. Looks bleak."

I listened to the wind through the window of the cafe. It was howling. It might whip itself up into a blizzard and I didn't want to be caught up in that.

"Do you think things will be better in Mantle?"

Neo shook her head.

"So it's pretty desolate there, too."

Neo nodded.

"You've been? Well once we're there we'll need to narrow down our search for the maiden. Probably in Atlas, at a guess. Probably in a bunker if Ironwood has his way."

Neo nodded and took a bite of ice-cream.

"But bunkers don't much matter to you, do they Neo? We'll find her. Even if we have to break into every bunker in Atlas."

I was tempted to light my pipe again but there was a man near the Cafe's bar wiping down tables and I didn't want to do anything noticeably illegal within the first few hours of landing here. Mary Jane was a prohibited substance all across Remnant and the cafe probably had rules about smoking and I didn't want to be thrown out, at least not before Neo had finished her ice-cream.

“Come to me, child…”

The wind whispered and with it came a cruel voice.

“My child. My little puppet. You will bring me the relic.”

My hand fell to my side and patted the relic where it hung. It still had two questions left. I considered using them on Cinder's whereabouts. Or that of the remaining maidens.

I had so many options. So many questions. I'd only ever get two more answered. There were so many secrets about my own life I'd never get answers to if only due to the opportunity cost of only getting any two answered.

And that was if I didn't ask about the maidens. Or Cinder. Or Ozma. I knew so little. Perhaps I was just a puppet with Salem pulling the strings.

The hidden truths about how I came to be in Vale alone held a dozen questions. Why had she sent me to Vale. How had she done so? Where was Merlot now? Where were my sisters? How had they come to be?

On instinct I'd burned one of my questions because I needed to know how to deal with Salem. I had a loose plan for that. Destroy her body so completely that she could never reform. Scatter her remains across this world such that she'd never take possession with her feet ever again, let alone her mind. The relic had indicated that such a thing was indeed possible. I just needed to get close enough to do it.

It took me forever to muscle up the courage to use the thing. Even looking at it reminded me of Ren and Nora and what I'd done to them. It felt wrong for me to be the one using the questions for that reason. Once I'd cleared my mind of the bloodlust I had only one choice in moving forward. To use the relic. So I did. And I'd burnt one of my valuable questions.

I could ask how to resist her commands so that I could actually strike at her without her dominating my mind. I could ask how else I might be able to defeat her. There were so many options. So many choices. I found myself paralyzed by the sheer number of them.

And I had only two left.

Finding out Salem was immortal had been a kick in the gut. But it wasn't so bad knowing that she could still be stopped. Still be delayed. I could still shut her down. She could be wounded.

And like a god of a myth of old, if I scattered her pieces fine enough, she would never return to power. It was just a question of breaking her hold over me. I couldn't cut her into bits if she controlled my thoughts.

So what questions should I ask the relic? Should I even ask it anything? A good question, one I'd ironically like the relic to answer.

I could also ask about the other donor who'd created me. My surrogate. It was a mystery I may never have the answer to any other way.

I sighed and stood up, I slammed back my coffee. Neo was finished eating and I had a train to catch.

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We took the train ride into the city. I watched Atlas loom overhead. A giant rock with engines dangling beneath. The gondolas and their cables stretched to the upper city like a spider's web. Hovercraft swarmed the floating rock. All in Atlesian design and bearing Atlas' colors.

I knew a little of the place's history. How Atlas had been set up above the city of Mantle. I know about how some had been left behind.

The lower city was dirty. It was mostly a giant slum with buildings pacted too close together for comfort. I looked out the window as we rode in on the place. I imagined a lot of people worked in the upper city and commuted there each day from down here.

The cobbled streets were packed with vendors in a way that reminded me a little of Mistral's middle and lower levels.

It must be hard to see such affluence then to come back down here day in and day out.

There was a quiet resentment to the place. Angry about the rock that hung above. A constant reminder of haves and have-nots.

We shuttled past a dust mine in the middle of the city. A large open-pit thing that seemed to threaten hunger. As though on a bad day it might stretch it's maw wide and swallow the place whole.

I only caught a narrow look as we bulleted past the famous dust mines of Mantle. It looked like the kind of place no one would choose to work in. It was about needs.

There were faunus every which way you looked. The racial segregation couldn't have been more prominent any where else in the world. The upper city, that's for humans, the lower city, that's for faunus. A clear dividing marker to segregate the two based on economic strata now, and social strata in the past.

My life might be a total piece of shit but hey, at least I wasn't a dust miner.

"Come on Neo. Let's find a place to stay."

We found a small motel willing to put up with us. They managed to keep it clear of the soot of the mines. There was a grime to the air which only heavy machinery spinning into the earth could throw up. I imagined how clean and fresh the air in the city above must feel. I imagined trying to raise children in a place like this. I promptly stopped.

I was just making myself depressed and pointlessly. There were real things in my life about this city that should make me depressed. I needed to find a branch of the Malachite or a rival gang organization.  

It was at times like these that, let me tell you, I got the White Fang. Their purpose was a noble one from the sight of the Mantle slums. I could see how and why the Fang were born when I looked out a window here.

"Let's take a tram up."

The upper city couldn't have been more different. It was also built down into the rock it floated on. Atlas Academy, I could see it from our gondola, had windows looking down and out over the wastes. They were dug into the mountainous slab.

There were also taller buildings which stretched upwards. Giving the illusion of some sort of man-made crystal, hewn from a different kind of rock. The city was a geode. Building upwards and downwards into the dull mound.

We landed and made our way off the gondola. We were surrounded by Mantleans working clerking jobs in the upper city. We stood out a little as hunters but only a little. We were given second glances but they were only that.

"I'm not sure I like it here. I think I prefer Mistral to Atlas." I told Neo. I watched busybodies bustle. "At least in Mistral they don't pretend that the lower floors are part of a different city."

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-WG

[archies-ginger-locks]

The Town That Saw Blood

Archie Andrews x Reader

Request: Hey I saw your new prompt list thing and I had three numbers I liked but for one fic. Numbers 36, 38,40. Archie x Reader. Where the reader had like a family emergency and he didnt come. So she is upset and ends things with him, but like over time he notices she hasnt been sleeping well and knows its nightmares. Then they admit they still care about one another. Kinda a sad until the end they are happy together. I hope it makes sense.

Prompts: 36. “Another nightmare?” And 38. “I needed you. And you weren’t there.” And 40. “I’m still not over you.”

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: lots of blood, PTSD, if you love your sister and never want her to get hurt then be careful reading this.

@onceuponatimegilmoregirls

—

Blood was pooling onto the crystal white snow. Screams of pain came echoing out of your sister while you cried out of help. Pulling off your jumper and wrapping it around your sisters wound was the best you could do. Your cries for help weren’t working, the park the two of you were walking through was empty.

Fumbling, you pulled out your phone and dialled the emergency number. Your sister was still screaming in pain and blood still poured onto the cold, icy pathway through the old park.

“It’ll be okay, you’ll see. It’ll be okay, their coming. Just, just keep breathing.” Her screaming had stopped and it was just heavy breathing now, she looked up at you.

Your hair was a mess and your white shirt was painted red. Your sisters red eyes looked up again, her cold hand had grabbed yours. You didn’t want to look in her eyes, it would be too painful.

“Look at me,” you drifted your eyes to hers. “Be okay, that’s all I wish. Be okay, tell Mum and Dad I love them.” She was smiling up at you.

It was the smile of death. That smile that people have when they just kinda, know. Know that it’s all over, it’s all gone so being positive was the last good thing that could give to the world.

The threatening ring of the ambulance came close and the bright Red and Blue lights were flashing as fast as your heart was beating. Everything started to blur when the paramedics pushed you away and started assisting your sister. Another one came over with a stretcher and they lifted her onto it.

One of the three help you up and into the back of the ambulance. They wanted information on your sister but all you could do is cry and hug the stranger of a paramedic close. You were shaking with the question, Will she be okay?

You spent the night in the hospitals waiting room alone. Your parents were stuck out in a blizzard across the country and your boyfriend, Archie, wasn’t answering his phone. So, with that said a cold night alone was the best you could get.

The hospital forced you to go home while your sister was still being checked. They told you that if anything happened that you would be the first notified.

Being home alone after what had happened, still seeing horrifying image of her attacker, was awful. You couldn’t wash your clothes in case, in case...

You tried to wipe your mind clean of thoughts like that. It was so hard because it was the truth, they told you she had a 50 percent chance of surviving. The only thing you could think of to calm your nerves was a nice hot shower. A hot shower was something you always did when everything just got too much and you needed to get away from everything. People thought you were crazy when you told them that, the only person to understand you was Archie. And he, he well wasn’t in your good books after ignoring your calls the day before.

You slowly took off your clothes, laying them out neatly on the bathroom counter. You re-tied up your hair before turning on the shower. The boiling water against the nippy winter air created a large amount of hot steam.

Stress seemed to drop off your shoulders when you stepped into your shower. It was oddly relaxing, the feeling of the steamy water falling over your body slowly. You closed your eyes and sunk into the feeling.

When you opened your eyes again the water had turned red, blood red. The running water muffled your scream as you reacted by reaching forward and turning the water. You closed your eyes, you didn’t want to see it all over you as it was on your sister.

Still shaking, you opened your eyes to see it was just water covering you. You let out a small sigh of relief before sitting down on the wet tiled shower floor.

You felt as if you were going crazy over your sister even though you saw her a few hours ago, calmly laying in her hospital bed sound asleep. All you could do was worry and think of what could happen, it was infuriating. The only thing you could do to help your sister was to relax and stay calm and you couldn’t even do that.

You stood up and wrapped a towel around yourself, you were about to open the bathroom door to go and get changed but to stopped in your tracks when you heard the front door open.

Jumping out of your skin from shock at hearing someone break in, you scurried into your parents room. They always told you if anyone, or anything, broke in that you should go straight into their room. They told you to open your father’s bedside table, the second draw and only use what was in there for a emergency and this felt like a big emergency.

You quietly stumbled over to the bedside table and slowly opened the draw. A small silver hand gun was hidden in the far corner. You didn’t want to do this but you also didn’t want to get hurt.

You silently opened the bedroom door and peaked a look down stairs you couldn’t see anyone but you could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. You stepped out of the room, your father’s gun out in front of you, your finger on the trigger and read to shoot.

Your heart was racing, your blood was pumping and your eyes were going to burst out of your head. Archie appeared at the top of the stairs with his hands raised once he saw what was in your hands. He looked scared of you and he had the right to be you looked nothing like usual.

Usually you had your hair at least half decent and brushed. You usually also had proper clothes on and not just a towel that you had wrapped around yourself. But the thing he had to worry about was the gun in your hand. You were the last person anyone expected to hold a gun up to anyone.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), please put down the gun.” You shook you head in a ‘I need to wake up’ way and dropped the gun.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your feelings of anxiety and sadness were traded for anger when you dropped the gun and saw Archie again for the first time since your sister was shot.

“I ah, I got your messages. Is your sister okay? Are you okay?” He took a step forward towards you. You took a step back, you liked your amount of distance.

He looked shocked that you didn’t accept him coming near you. You looked up at him with anger and he looked at you with sadness.

“She’s doing fine and so am I. I’d like it if you left.” You said, you were trying so hard to be nice. Even in anger you showed kindness.

“What? (Y/N) I-“

“No, I said you should leave. So go, and I’d prefer if you didn’t come back.” His whole world just seemed to collapse in front of him. But Archie being Archie didn’t want to make things even worse so he left, like you asked.

It felt so right at the time. It felt like that was what anger did to people, it makes people think that bad decisions are good decisions.

——

The next day Sheriff Keller arrived at your door step. He looked almost as tired as you were.

You were tired from not sleeping from fear. Every time you even thought about sleeping the image of your sisters attacker kept appearing in your mind. It was terrifying, it felt as if he was right there coming after you.

The Sheriff was tired from work. Since Fred Andrews was shot not too long before your sister, he has been working this case since the moment Archie filed his report about his dad. Sleeping wasn’t easy when the town he loved so much might be in grave danger.

“I’m just here to ask you a few questions.” You nodded and opened the door more so he could enter.

Your parents were due home today, so you wanted to get this over before they got home. They would cry even more if they knew you were being interviewed by the police about a serial shooter. They almost didn’t want to come home due to danger but being there for their girls was more important to them.

The two of you took a seat at your old wooden dining table. He was on one sit and you were on the other. He brought out his note book and pen, this was really happening.

“Where was the shooting?” Memories from then came rushing back to you, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Maple Park, near the centre.”

Questions like continued on and on until he got to the question you didn’t want to answer. The question you dreaded because it was going to bring to light the truth of what seemed to be a epidemic of blood shed through the town.

“Andrews described to me a ah, a person who shot his father. I am going to describe to you what he told me and you’ll tell me if it matches what you saw.” Archie had already told you about who shot his dad and by what you saw, they were the same person.

“Man, possibly in a black ski mask. Green eyes with a average build and bit of a stomach. Does any of that sound familiar?” He looked at you with so much need. He needed to figure out this case, he truly loved this town so much. If it were the same person he would have a real case on his hands.

“Yes, That is the person that attacked my sister. Down to the mask and everything.” You started shaking a little just think about this.

This was real, you tried convincing yourself that it was all fake. Just your imagination but it was all too real and you couldn’t handle it. Keller could see it on your face that you weren’t well, mentally but he needed to get back to the station.

“Thank you so much. If I get anything I’ll let you know?” He stood up and chucked his paper and pen back in his pocket.

“Sure, sir.” You tried to smile, you tried so hard to look normal and at least a little bit mentally stable.

He hurried out of your house and back out into the harsh cold of American winter. You slowly clicked the door closed after him and went back to cooking dinner for you and your parents.

——

A few weeks past and a lot had happened. Your sister was released from the hospital at almost full health, they just what her to relax and stay in bed for awhile until she was fully healed. No more people have been shot but the tension for the fiasco still looked everywhere you go.

Archie hasn’t even tried to talk to you since you held the gun up to his face the day after your sister was shot and you didn’t know how to feel. Was it good that he was listening to you and that he didn’t try to contact you or was it bad because he should be trying hard to win you back? Boy trouble wasn’t the only thing keeping you up late at night.

The black hood, the name the town had given the masked shooter, still haunts you even though your sister had survived. The memory of hit sprint at the two of you shooting bullets at you was like a ghost. Floating around at appearing out of nowhere.

Your parents were so glade to see (S/N) and you okay. They had the worst fears on the long plane ride home, they truly believed she wouldn’t make it and they could cope with the pain and the bill for the funeral.

School had finally gone back after what seemed like forever. It was the first time ever that you were actually excited to go back to the place you called hell. But that he’ll was much better than the one in your mind.

People started noticing you had changed since the shooting. You went from being bubbly and talkative to quiet. From answering every question in class to being forced by the teacher to give a answer. The biggest difference had to be the way you looked in general. You at least used to look well rested and healthy but now you had lost some of the colour from your skin and you had bags and sleep lines around your eyes.

Luckily for you, you still had your friends around. They understood that it was traumatic and that you had the right to be affected by it. That’s why they tried to drag to to conversations or even to Pops.

It didn’t take them long to realise that something had happened between you and Archie. So, slowly one by one you explained happened when they asked you, you just left out the part with the gun. They were shocked because you two were always known as the Riverdale High power couple but they also understood that you wanted to end it.

Now that one thing was off your mind, another wouldn’t leave it. The thought of Archie and how he left you in a time of need but came to make sure you were okay when he had the chance. Which is more important, the good or the bad? All you could do was play imaginary tennis while trying to decide. Good? Bad? Good? It was too stressful.

The school bell had finally rung. It was like music to everyone’s ears because it signalled that school was over for another week. People were filling the halls, you were waiting behind so you weren’t stuck in the rush.

Once about a third of people had gone you made your way through the halls. You had a hold of your bag that was over your shoulder an dying had your earphones in. There was some song from your playlist but you weren’t really focusing on the music, your attention was to get out of there and to get to the next bus.

You were so close to the door, you could feel the cold of the metal. Someone grabbed you wrist and brought you into the music room. You almost screamed until you caught sight of the colour of your kidnappers hair.

“Archie?! What the Fuck!” You yelled as you pulled yourself out of his grip.

“No, (Y/N). Don’t you say that, what the fuck, you?” He looked shocked and tired. He probably had Football practice for last period, and a whole hour of Physical Education would tired anyone out.

“What happened to you? You used to be so happy, and now. Just look at yourself.” His hand lay out in front of him, gesturing to you.

“If you don’t remember, my sister was shot.” You took a aggressive step forward, your arms crossed the same way they were the day you broke up with him.

He wasn’t angry, he was more on the frustrated side of anger while you were a mixture of anger and sadness. You were sad because deep down you still loved the red haired, American dream boy. And being in the same room as him, alone, really hurt.

“Yeah I remember, so was my dad. We should’ve been there while we were rebuilding but you pushed me away.”

“I didn’t push you away. I needed you, and you weren’t there.” The deep pit of sadness you felt took you back to that day. The day she was shot and you started to sob.

You couldn’t help yourself, you almost lost her and you just needed someone. And the person who’s job it is to be that person, wasn’t there. So being what seemed like a good boss at the time, you fired him. Turns out it wasn’t a good decision for either of you.

“(Y/N),” he rushed towards you and wrapped you in a bear hug. Trying to push him away wouldn’t work, so you let him hold you.

You missed this. You missed him holding you and cuddling you. Sometimes you even missed going to watch him at football practice. When you two broke up and school came back, your whole life style seemed to change. You went from cheering on your boyfriend at footy practice, to sitting at home watching Disney movies while you shovelled ice cream into your mouth.

But the thing you missed most of all was him. Just Archie being Archie, the way he would mess up his hair to make you laugh. The way he would just randomly call you in the middle of the night for no reason. How he always seemed to drive his dads truck on the same day you didn’t want to catch the bus home. All those things were Archie.

“Archie, Archie I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of made you leave, I’m an idiot.” The sobs had stopped but your voice still quivered and a few tears fell down your face.

“No you’re not, you are not a idiot. Now, could be give this,” He gestured to the both of you. “Another chance because, I’m still not over you.”

“Of course Archie, you bid loveable dumbass!”

The two of you went on a date, you liked to call it your second first but Archie wasn’t having it. He wanted to forget you ever broke up in the first place. But ever since you two got back together, people have been noticing your mood change. You were back to your normal, bubbly self.

You eventually told Archie why you looked so tired all the time. The nightmares were too much so you didn’t sleep and he wouldn’t have that. From that day forward he promised to make sure you fell asleep and slept well, even if it went he had to cuddle you to sleep.

Eventually he did go back to sleeping in his own house but the second you call, he answered. It was great, you want to just talk or get something off your chest he was there for you. You didn’t use it too often because Archie needed his sleep too if he was going to be doing all his extracurriculars well.

You clicked your phone on, the time was around 11 pm. You wrapped the thick fuzzy blanket around you a little bit more as you edged closer to the edge of your bed. Scrolling through your messages you found his, Golden Boi.

You pressed the call Botton and put the phone against your ear. It rung out a few time before he answered.

“Are you okay? Another nightmare?” He sounded tired and kind of panicked.

“No,” you giggled quietly. “I just was feeling a bit lonely... and my parents are visiting my grandparents.”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

“Make it five.” You could hear his smile of the other end of the phone as he hung up.

[vcg73]

Witch!Kurt #27: Good News

Time to give the non-magical part of Kurt’s life a little attention. 

As soon as the blizzard cleared up enough to let everyone get back to their daily routines, life shifted in high gear.  First thing Tuesday morning, after a lift to school from a willing Elliott, Kurt turned in the final draft of his Junior work-study to the Dean of Performance. 

Carmen Tibideaux took her time reading over the material, jotting down an occasional note or making a non-committal grunt over some bit that caught her attention. Unfortunately, neither her face nor her reactions told Kurt anything. She could have loved it, hated it, or found it the most mediocre project turned in this year. There would be no determining her reaction until she had finished every last page and pondered her overall impressions for a few moments.

It drove Kurt crazy, that opaque deliberation, but he knew better than to interrupt or to fidget in her presence. Carmen hated interruptions and she hated distractions. Every student learned the futility of trying to hurry this woman along, as well as the danger associated with saying more than one meant to in her presence. In a way it was fortunate that Kurt always had to fight the tendency to become tongue-tied around her. Kurt had witnessed more than one schoolmate dig themselves into an ever-deeper hole by saying too much while trying to anticipate their teacher’s opinion.  

Today patience really was a virtue. As she closed the back cover on the sturdy red binder Kurt had used to protect his beloved musical from the dangers of dripping icicles and drifting snowflakes after Elliott had dropped him off a couple of blocks from school, preserving the illusion of having commuted in the normal way. 

Carmen folded her hands over the book and looked at Kurt for a long nerve-wracking moment. “Congratulations Mister Hummel,” she said. “Your final script is hereby approved for production. The structure and dialogue have both improved noticeably from earlier drafts, as have the songs, which you may recall I deemed trite and uninteresting during your initial assessment.  The choice to move the ballad from Act One to the beginning of Act Two is a wise one. It feels more natural and effective after the sisters’ argument. Taking on a romantic comedy for your first solo project was a risk, but the humor flows in a natural way that should bring an appropriate amount of laughter from your audience.  Assuming your cast is up to the task.”

She paused and Kurt realized that he was expected to interject. “Yes, Madame. I’ve drafted seniors Clark Tidwell and Tonya Lowenstein, juniors Macy and Lisa Martin, sophomore Luis Hassan, and freshmen Laronda Williams and Antonio Garde, as well as myself, to play the housekeeper, children and grandchildren of the sisters and Ted the suitor. The actors at Lexington House have been practicing since Christmas and everything is going more smoothly since we switched two of the supporting roles.  I feel confident that everyone can be ready to perform on whatever date you choose for us.”

A hint of a smile flickered over Carmen’s lips.  Kurt was certain it had not escaped her notice that he had drafted all of his student actors from the Adam’s Apples. He had many friends around school, but it had occurred to him that that particular talent pool tended to go unused by the majority of NYADA’s elite. Kurt knew only too well what it felt like to yearn for a spotlight no one was ever willing to shine on you and he had wanted to give those deserving underdogs their chance. 

“Excellent,” the Dean said. “Then as you’ve managed to be the first of your class to turn in a completed project, I feel you should have the honor of the first performance slot. Since you’ve been rehearsing at your actors’ residence up to now, I take it you’ll need a couple of days to properly reblock the scenes onto the stage of the Shapiro.”

Kurt nearly squealed, but managed to hold himself back by sheer force of will. He had originally assumed he could stage the production at the Lexington House, but he had found out at the beginning of January that all student productions would be held at NYADA, to be graded by a panel of instructors.  He had immediately gone to the older actors and their caregivers to arrange permissions for a series of “field trips” via the bus company that serviced the elder care facility. To his relief, the cast had been very excited at the prospect of performing on a real stage and happy to invite an audience of relatives and friends. (Something Kurt had then had to obtain a second set of permissions from NYADA to allow.)  Still, even with all this negotiation he had not expected to be offered the biggest and grandest venue in the school. 

Doing his best to appear composed, Kurt channeled every acting lesson he had received at this school to say calmly, “Yes, I think a tech rehearsal and a dress rehearsal should be enough. The elder members of my cast are stage veterans, so I won’t have to simplify the directions for them.” He paused, frowning slightly as he ran the play through his mind at a rapid-fire pace. “Although with such a big stage I may have to reconsider the blocking of the scene where Eunice storms out after her fight with Constance. Mary Ellen is nearly eighty five and I’m not sure she’s capable of storming more than a few feet.”

At this, the dour Dean actually chuckled. “A fair point and I’m glad to see that you’re considering the physical capabilities of your cast as well as the professional. That shows insight as a director.” She checked her appointment book, as well as a couple of schedules on the computer screen to her left. “I’ll reserve the auditorium for you this coming Friday and Monday afternoons for rehearsal and schedule your graded performance for next Wednesday at 5pm. Can you have everything ready by then, Mister Hummel?”

Knowing perfectly well that the question was largely rhetorical; he would be graded on Wednesday if he was ready or not; Kurt nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your time.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Adam!  Elliott!  You won’t believe it!” 

Kurt burst through the apartment door at 5pm, having taken the long way home just to give himself a few extra minutes to think and plan. He had been on Cloud 9 all day, making calls, meeting his fellow Apples, arranging transportation from Lexington House for the days his cast would be needed, talking to students in the props and set-design departments and slipping in to measure and carefully block out the stage of the Shapiro. 

When he had assumed he would be performing in a small venue, he had staged his play in two acts with everything to take place in the living room of the Atworthy home. It would be a small matter to move a few chairs, tables and set pieces from the well stocked prop building. Part of the overall education at NYADA was learning how to dress a stage on short notice and Kurt - without quite realizing how rare such a thing really was - had cultivated friendships with people from every creative Major in the school. He had served as a costumer, editor, background actor,  and supporting chorus member for half the productions in school over the past two and a half years and everyone he spoke with was happy to return the favor now.  

His fiance and Familiar had both leaped to their feet in reaction to Kurt’s dramatic entrance. “What? What’s happened?” they demanded.

“The Real Housewives of Albany’ is going to be performed next Wednesday evening on the stage of the Shapiro Auditorium!” he announced, doing a giddy little dance around the loft that Elliott happily joined when Kurt grabbed him by both hands and pranced him around the floor. 

Adam declined to dance, but happily hugged the stuffings out of his beloved. Unlike Elliott, Adam was a NYADA graduate and he knew exactly how much of an honor this was. “Darling, that’s amazing! Normally the Shapiro is strictly used for Senior projects and alumni events. For Dean Tibidieaux to give it to a third year student play is high praise indeed, and one that your fellow students will all recognize as such. I’m so proud of you.” He gripped Kurt’s cheeks and gave him an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth. “You’ll have a sold out show for certain.”

Kurt could not help preening at the praise. “I almost fell over when she told me. It adds a lot of pressure to make the final performance perfect, knowing the Dean will have raised expectations high by doing this, but I’m super- excited too. I’m not counting on a full house, but I did get permission to block off a section for the actors’ families, so I just hope we’ll at least pull in a decent sized crowd on top of that.”

“You will. Student musicals usually do very well,” Elliott said, parking his rear on the back of the sofa and pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged on the narrow surface, a huge grin lighting his face. With anyone else, Kurt would have been afraid they would fall from such a precarious perch, but Elliott always somehow maintained his balance. He had moved some of his belongings into the loft during the recent blizzard and for now the little couch was his. “NYU isn’t strictly a performing arts school, but original shows get lots of interest. And you’re still Winter Showcase recruit, Midnight Madness winner, last man standing from Lima, and guaranteed future Dean’s Award winner Kurt Hummel. Not to mention, one of your cast members won an Obie back in the ‘70s and another one was nominated for a Tony.  At a place like NYADA, you’ll probably get S.R.O. just for that!”

Kurt beamed at this assessment. It was so nice to be surrounded by people who believed in him after all those years with no true support from people he’d considered his best friends. “Well, thank you for that but we’ll have to wait until next year to find out who gets the Dean’s Award. That’s for graduating seniors and there are a number of candidates in other programs who would be completely deserving. I don’t want to get over-confident about anything and have it bite me in the ass, so I’ll just hope the show draws enough of an audience not to embarrass us. It’s a big venue, after all, and not everyone is as fascinated with theater history and musical-comedy as us.”

“Your modesty does you credit,” Adam decided. “But I am under no such obligation to control my optimism. You’ll be packing them in like sardines next Wednesday night. In fact, I should start knitting souvenir socks for the occasion. We can hand them out at intermission, since I’m positive that your play will have knocked them off of everyone by then.”

Kurt laughed. “Well, save me a pair if you do. That would be a hell of a keep-sake.” He grinned, hugging himself and spinning in a circle to express his excitement. “Oh, gosh. I have a million things to do before our first stage rehearsal on Friday. I know you’ve suffered through all the various drafts, but I can’t wait for you to see it on stage with a real . . . ”  Suddenly, his happiness dimmed and he looked at his fiance with wide eyes. “Oh, Adam, I forgot! The play is at NYADA. Will you be able to attend in such a large space, especially if we do get a full crowd?”

Adam had been sticking close to home since his nerve-wracking adventure in Lima, but his proud smile did not falter. “Yes, darling, I will. For your big night, I’ll manage even if I have to render myself invisible to do it.”

“You should disguise yourself as a prop and watch it from the stage,” Elliott suggested around the mouthful of the apple he had just plucked from a bowl on the coffee table as he rolled down the sofa to lounge on its cushions. “I think the Atworthy living room could use a coat rack, don’t you, Kurt? And doesn’t Constance have a wheelchair? Maybe you should suggest that she needs a lap cat, so I can have a close-up view too.”

Kurt relaxed again at their easy banter, Adam debating the merits of becoming a coat rack versus a flower vase and Elliott speculating that if Constance did get a cat then Lord Tubbington, who considered himself quite the thespian after starring in Brittany’s old “Fondue for Two” YouTube series, would probably make himself the feline understudy and find a reason to take over when show time came.  

Privately thinking that a cat would indeed be a nice touch for his show, Kurt said, “Well, don’t worry. I intend to reserve the coven seats in the front row, assuming you all want to come.  I’ve recruited half the Adam’s Apples already, so I’m sure the rest of them will show up to watch and they’ll probably invite people too. And some of my friends in in Stage Combat have been bugging me to let them know once I got a firm date from Carmen. I texted everyone on the way home, letting them know the venue and the rehearsal schedule.”

“See?” Adam said with a smile. “Everything is moving along and your audience is multiplying as we speak. You have nothing to worry about.”

Kurt sat down in his favorite chair, the one he had designed and built himself from an old Mercedes car seat he’d found in a junk yard, sagging back with exaggerated exhaustion. “Nothing at all. Except for finalizing the set, the costumes, the transportation, the props; wrangling a dozen actors, doing two run-throughs, and not having an aneurysm if anything goes wrong on performance day. Not to mention that I still have to practice for my mid-winter critique next Friday.” He flipped one hand and closed his eyes. “Oh, my god, give me a distraction before I start overthinking everything. Did anything happen to you today? I thought I detected some emotional roller-coastering today, but that could have just been me projecting.”

“As a matter of fact I did have some news today if you’d like to hear it.”

Kurt opened his eyes and leaned forward, eyes lighting up with interest when Adam nudged Elliott to sit up and took a seat on the sofa next to him. “Tell me!”

Adam smiled at his enthusiasm. “I heard back from Stewart Henderson after you left for school this morning.” He held up a forestalling hand when Kurt squeaked with excitement, both hands clasping as he lifted them to cover his lips, while his hips did an excited little chair-dance. “Unfortunately, he’s decided to go with another candidate for the assistant’s job. He was very kind about it and expressed his sincere regret, but he’s not a young man anymore and he needs someone who can be more hands-on, following him to productions and jet-setting about with him on a moment’s notice. Even if I wasn’t still battling post-traumatic stress and agoraphobia, I wouldn’t feel right committing myself to spending months at a time away from you and our life in New York.”

Kurt could not prevent a small pout. “I understand and I can absolutely appreciate both of those reasons, but it would have been such an amazing opportunity for you. I was sure that you were meant to have that job.” He cocked his head, realizing that Adam was still smiling in a rather smug fashion. “Why aren’t you disappointed?”

“Because Stewart also told me that he’d been impressed enough during our interview that he had put me up for a different job as a booking assistant with Hanover and Bradley. He forwarded my resume and arranged a phone interview, with his recommendation that they hire me on the spot. Which, as it turned out, they were quite willing to do after speaking with me. H&B handles a great many clients through online meetings and remote scheduling, so I can do the job from here, plus have the freedom to take on Mrs. Bui’s kind offer of part-time employment at the tea shop. The job at H&B should pay enough to be a real contribution to our finances, but I think it will do me good to also have a reason to go outdoors on the regular.” 

“Adam, that’s amazing,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “You’re amazing. Seriously. Here you are, having survived one of the worst experiences imaginable and still recovering from a massive scare just a few days ago, and yet you’re ready and willing to face your fears and get back out into the working world again. You’re just . . .”

He had no words, but he hopped out of his chair and into Adam’s arms, kissing him so thoroughly that Elliott started playfully fanning himself with a magazine.  “Should I leave you two alone?”

The couple parted, flushing at the reminder that they had an audience. Kurt laughed. “We’re done.” He gave Adam a saucy wink. “For now.”

The Familiar grinned. “Understood.  Maybe I’ll go see what Dani is up to tonight. “Meanwhile, if you two are up for a more prosaic diversion, I knew you’d want to celebrate Adam’s new job, so I’ve got a nice green salad in the fridge, a melt-in-your-mouth tuna casserole in the oven and a chocolate sponge cake with pudding for dessert.”

“Custard,” Adam said with a playfully long-suffering roll of the eyes. “Seriously mate, if you’re going to borrow dessert recipes from Gran’s cookbook, you might at least give the components their proper names.”

Elliott just smiled. “As long as it tastes good, I don’t care. Especially since now we have two things to celebrate.”

“Well whatever you call it, I want a big serving of everything.  I knew I smelled something yummy when I walked in,” Kurt said, sliding down into the corner of the sofa and draping his legs across Adam’s lap. “I’m ready for a good meal. I’ve been so busy today, I didn’t have time to stop for lunch.”

Adam made a scolding noise. “Then by all means let’s tuck in. Your Familiar has been tormenting me with cooking odors all afternoon and I’m fairly starved.”

Elliott happily jumped up and went to put out three place settings. 

“What about you?” Kurt said a few minutes later when the three of them gathered around the table and began filling their plates. At Elliott’s inquiring look, Kurt said, “Adam and I both have things to celebrate, but I’ve been so caught up in my own stuff lately that I feel like a horrible friend. Here you are, giving up your privacy for an undetermined length of time to teach me and look after us both, not to mention being my on-call magical taxi service and I barely even know what’s going on in your life. Did you ever get to do that lab time you were trying to arrange when the blizzard hit? Did you get your grades back from winter Finals yet? Have you applied for that internship you want at that Animal Wellness Center in Long Island yet? Are you writing any songs?  Any new men in your life? I need dish!”

Elliott laughed as Kurt ticked off each question. “Well, let’s see. No time for song-writing lately, but when we had band practice on Monday night Johnny gave me an idea for one that we might work on together.”

“Rock song?” Kurt guessed. Being a drummer, Johnny had a natural draw toward songs with a beat and a strong lyrical hook. Kurt had developed a better appreciation for such music since starting up his band. The original idea of a Madonna cover band had quickly given way to an eclectic mixture of genres and artists that appealed to all of its members and eventually led them to weave a few original tunes into the mix. That variety had given Pamela Lansbury/One Three Hill a niche with local audiences and proved a winning formula for the band itself.

“Actually more of a ballad,” Elliott said, surprising him. “At least for now. I’ll let you know when it’s developed more. Right now I’m a little busy with school, both NYU and Coven 101. I did pass all my exams last term, though I could’ve done better at cellular biology. I aced bio-chem and that might be enough to get me the internship come spring, but they won’t made a final decision until March and it’s a pretty competitive slot. I’ll need to bump up my lab time and slam-dunk the immunology course if I’m gonna have a shot at it.”

“If you need any help studying, we’ll be glad to help,” Kurt offered, feeling it was the least he could do after all the help Elliott had been giving him lately. “Just don’t make me look at any pictures of sick or wounded animals.”

“Deal,” he said. "I don’t like seeing animals hurting either, but I need to learn how to alleviate their suffering in order to get them healthy and happy again. It’s what I’ve wanted since before I even figured out where my Potential was headed. I think I’d be studying to become a veterinarian even if I was a Standard.”

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. “That’s interesting. Carole said something similar to me when she was here over the holidays. About how our powers seemed to go in line with our personal interests. Like how so many witches are also singers or musicians, when music lends itself so well to spell-casting. Or the way Adam and I have both always liked to cook and we each developed a Talent for potions, minor in my case, primary in his. It’s just a theory, but it makes a lot of sense. I mean, I have some old pictures of my mom puttering around in her grandparents’ garden when she was a little girl and her Talent was apparently in plant based magic.” 

“What an interesting theory,” Adam said. “There may be something to that. Your step-mum went into nursing and she’s an Empath.  I’ve wanted to be an actor since I was just a tiny lad and my other major Talent is Transmogrification. Johnny’s is as well and told me he was painfully shy as a child, wanting anything other than to be noticed.”

Seeing that Adam’s attention was drifting, no doubt mentally adding a chapter to his future tome on the definitive study of magical powers, Kurt just patted his arm and turned back to his conversation with Elliott. “What about guys?” he asked in a teasing tone. “I noticed you and Sebastian seemed to be doing some pretty serious flirting last week.”

Casually stretching his arms overhead, Elliott folded his hands behind his head and pretended nonchalance. “Aw, that was just in fun. I suspect we both have too much going on right now to start up a long distance thing. Though if the signals he was throwing were accurate, that could change.”

“From what I saw, those signals read, ‘let’s go find a dark corner and drop our trousers’, so I’m quite certain he would be happy to have them picked up at any time,” Adam said dryly.

The Familiar chuckled. “Yep, that’s about what I got too.”

“And would you?” Kurt said curiously.  “Sebastian’s good looking and all, but as far as I know he’s always been a wham-bam and forget your name the next day man. While you strike me as more of the long-term relationship sort.”

“I am, mostly, but I’ve been known to do a walk of shame or two in my time,” Elliott admitted, contrarily looking rather proud of that admission. “And considering what you told me about his attitude toward non purebreds, he could just be intrigued by the notion of slumming with an Animagus. Still, it might be worth it. I could show him what he’s been missing.” He smiled and took another bite of tuna casserole, all but wrapping his tongue around the bit of pasta before putting the fork in his mouth and then pulling it back out with exaggerated slowness, giving his eyebrows a suggestive hitch.  

Kurt stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “Why, you dog! No offense.”

“Speaking of Sebastian,” Adam said, pushing away his empty plate and settling back in his chair with a satisfied burp. “Pardon me. I’ve been meaning to ask; did either of you happen to notice that Carole’s new Familiar looked rather constipated every time someone mentioned her son?”

Kurt nodded. “Particularly in connection with Blaine. He didn’t seem to want to talk about either of them. I decided to leave it alone for now since I was more concerned about Carole getting some help with her magic, but if Sebastian thinks he can steer her away from talking about anything she’s set her mind on, he’s sadly mistaken. Dad is a lot more concerned about eliminating the threat to all of us than he is about sparing any tender feelings from the new kid and having two of her sons’ peers living in the house, one of whom was a good friend, there’s no way Carole won’t be eager to talk about Finn. I figured I’d give them a few more days to get used to each other before I go in demanding answers.”

“Maybe you should grill your dad. Burt will be in the audience for your play next week,” Elliott pointed out. “He told me to just come get him on whatever night you ended up performing it.”

Kurt stared at him, surprised. “He did? I didn’t know that. I assumed he wouldn’t be able to come, considering he and Carole just spent two whole weeks out here. Did he really ask you to transport him?”

“Yep. And sorry if I just spoiled a surprise,” Elliott said, looking sheepish. “I assumed you’d talked, since he didn’t seem too keen on magical travel the last time I saw him.”

Kurt laughed. “He still isn’t, but he likes to spring surprises on me, so I should have guessed. I kind of assumed he’d never want to actually do it unless there was some kind of emergency, though.”

“Burt has seen us Teleport enough by now that I think his curiosity has begun to overcome his nerves,” Adam suggested. “You know what an effort he’s been making to accept your new status and to pretend that he isn’t still gobsmacked every time he sees you perform an act of magic. Now that he knows he’s also married to a witch, and for the second time to boot, I rather imagine his need to become comfortable with magic has indeed reached critical status in his mind.”

Kurt nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but diving head-first into things once he’s made up his mind is very much my dad’s M.O.” He smiled again. “And now that you’ve spilled the beans, I can save him the best seat in the house for Wednesday night!”

“Excellent. Then after the show, once you’ve finished receiving your no-doubt glowing assessment from the Dean’s committee and seen all of your cast off home, I really think you and Burt should go out and have a good chat over a nice meal. Just the two of you.”

Surprised, he said, “You don’t want to come?”

“Not just then,” Adam said, a reassuring smile on his face. “Elliott can pop me on home, if he doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Elliott interjected, standing up as he began to clear away the remains of their dinner in preparation for serving dessert. “Any time.”

Adam nodded thanks to him. Seeing Kurt’s still concerned expression, he reached out and squeezed his hand. “Even at the holidays you and Burt never had much opportunity for a one-on-one. Oh, a few minutes here and there, but there was always something needing to be done, or some of us hanging about sharing attention, or some other pull on your time. Not to mention all the tension that stood between you before you cleared the air at the holiday party. You and Burt share something special; a bond that existed long before any of us came along and that that bond was badly damaged during and after your time with Blaine. I think you need a chance here and there to firm up that connection and I want to make sure that you both to have the opportunity to do so. You need to spend a little private time together, to chat and catch up; rediscover the closeness you used to share.”

Kurt put a hand over his heart, imagining that he could actually feel it swelling with the pride and love he felt for this man. When, in the entire span of his relationship with Blaine, had his ex ever behaved with such simple loving selflessness; seeing what Kurt needed and providing him with an opportunity to get it with no thought of himself? 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “And that goes for you too. Any time you want to invite Henry or the rest of your family for private Crawford bonding time, don’t be afraid to say the word. They’ve been nothing but sweet and welcoming to me, but you’re their family and they haven’t had much time to be alone with you either. After two years without you, thinking you’d never have that chance again, I’m sure you could all use more time to catch up.”

“Thank you, Kurt. I promise you I will, just as I’ll eventually end up spending time alone with your dad, I’m sure. Just not this time. And don’t think for a moment that you’ll escape all my family’s mad plans to sweep you into the fold,” Adam said, squeezing his hand. “As long as you aren’t still afraid of Gran.”

He grinned. “I’m not. June is surprisingly awesome once she stops looking at you like you’re an ant on her picnic table. So thumbs-up to all forms of family bonding.”

“I vote for friend-bonding too,” Elliott said, raising his hand. “Adam and the Apples. Kurt and One-Three-Hill. Coven Time. Non-magic time. The works! Sorry, bud, but you may never have a moment alone again.” The twinkle in his lovely blue eyes proved that he was only teasing. 

Kurt inhaled a whiff of rich chocolate from the plate of warmed sponge cake, resting in a generous serving of vanilla custard, that his friend had just set in front of him. “Mmm, if it comes with benefits like this, who needs privacy!”

As the three of them dug in, Kurt felt a set of strong toes slide up under the cuff of his trousers - thankfully he had worn straight-leg pants today to better show off the designer argyle socks that complemented his blue and gold sweater - and caress his ankle. He glanced at Adam, who gave him a subtle wink. 

Perhaps a little privacy would be needed tonight, after all. There would be a million things to do over the next week, for both of them, but for tonight they still had some celebrating to do.

Elliott must have sensed something, for he suddenly looked up. His eyes darted between the two of them and he smiled, spooning up one last taste of the rich dessert before standing up and wiping his mouth on a napkin. “Since I cooked, you two can do the dishes. I’m heading over to Dani’s.” 

With a wink, he grabbed his guitar and leather jacket and vanished. 

THE END