#Kurt you´re so whipped

[kurtty-drabbles]

House of M Redone part 5

N/A: I got Netflix but I´ll not let my writing stop. Here we go, Kurt, you´re so whipped.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @muninandhugin @tieflingteeth

The school has upholds many traditions, smaller and bigger, among teachers and students. It was a way to bond with the old and next generation. So far, so good. Except, a new novelty roaming around the halls and classroom. 

Said novelty is nothing more or less than Nightcrawler, one of the most famous Red guards. Whispers, speculations, including some autographs-sometimes, follow by requests of petting his fur- however, what fuels the rumors are two facts:

1) Nightcrawler is taking his time to visit one person.

2) The said person is none other than Kitty Pryde.

Kitty is spotting a new hairstyle. Fluffy and Jewish style will never out of the menu but is possible to change a few things. So, Kitty has a wavy short style.

(Kitty hairstyle)

At this very moment, Kitty is reading some essays with a knee eye to any strange line regards Namor- some of her students have mothers who like to help in the essays. Some mothers have an extreme adoration- causing an exasperated sigh.

"Oh my God, if I read another line about Namor´s abs..." Kitty taps her pen in a nervous tick. One time, two times, furthermore three times. Now, she´s writing something in the essay. "Tell your mother I´m not interested in knowing about Namor´s sex life...doubt his dick could have stopped the grand war! But rest assured he did try" 

"So, not a fan of Namor?" a male voice draws in. Kitty humms in agreement as she picks another essay.   Doe-eyes lift up to see Nightcrawler smirking at her. "He can be a hassle to deal, let me tell you that... he and his fangirls" mentally add and his obsession with Sue Storm

"Hello, Nightcrawler, what a surprise to see you, in my office, may I help you? Soon, we´ll dive into the history of the Red Guards...I´ll spares no one of my witty" she promises.

"As I would expect of such a teacher like you" Kurt´s smooth line must be appreciated. "I´m here to ask for a favor. Kitty, would you like to go with me to the royal ball? The royal family has many parties and gatherings and I, as a member of the Red Guard, must attend and be on my best behavior" Kurt notes sagely how her doe eyes are glued on his golden ones.

"Oh, you mean ...no orgies?" her question is childish, filled with innocence as her grin got wider.

Kurt wrinkles at this. His fangirls seem to appreciate his sexy appeal too much sometimes.

"No, no orgies." is important to emphasize this as strongly as possible. Again, some of his fandoms really enjoy Kurt´s sex appeal. "But I do need to be on my best behavior..."

Kitty´s eyes look down as her fingers tap on her desk. She looks up again to send the pitiful stare Kurt ever saw. "Oh, elf, I´m so sorry...who is this stupid lady that refused you? Look" she clicks her tongues and has a contemplative expression written on her face. "I´m a big fan of enemies to lovers and all that, but in real life, if a lady says no...date another lady won´t make her magically love you. LET IT GO, elf"

Kurt can only narrow his eyes at this. " Are you...using Frozen/Disney jokes on me?"

Kitty is the image of the innocent. As usual.

"There´s no other girl, just you" Kurt promised never seeing the appeal of dating a girl to make another jealous. "I must say...your self-deprecating humor is not flattering" smirks at her expression. 

"So, let me get this straight, you" points to Kurt vehemently with her pen. "could have any lady to the royal ball and for some reason, one I´m not getting, you want to go with me? What about them?" the pen now points to the pair of eyes staring at them with wide eyes.

It took a minute for Kurt to look. It took a minute for all of them to leave.

"I want to go with you....I feel you, in all your wisdom and wit, won´t let me go to an orgy party" humor is the best weapon. Case and point, Kitty smiles at this.

"Well, I would love to...but, you know, in the program X...they didn´t add in my DNA how to dance and talk to royals" Kurt pouts. Kitty smiles- one must observe, as Kurt did, how her face is perfect to smile- the answer to such line is being waited for.

"You´ll never let me forget that, will you?"

"NOPE"

"Fine, I deserve, I guess. I still think it was strange a ..." thread this line with a clear mind and common sense. "civilian, I would say civilian, manage to handle the situation with Juggernaut so calmly"

"Elf, I´m a teacher...Juggernaut is nothing compared to that" winks at him. "Ok, guess I pick you up at 19hs?"

The nerve of this woman.

Then her face gets serious. "Look, I have to ask...what happened to nurse..." Kitty and embarrassed shouldn´t walk together. She puts her hands in front of her chest to make a point. "you know, the nurse I have a big personality?"

Oh, the nerve of this woman.

"Christine...well, she won´t bother us, I hope"

"She seems ...good"

"You can say she´s not very bright, she asked me if I was German"

"Normally, I hate a man calling another woman dumb or anything like that, but...yeah, in this case...I feel you. Is she alright?"

"Finally got we´ll never happen and took a job in Chicago"

"Well, good for her"

___________________________________________________________________________________________

(Emma´s dress)

Emma Frost is more than used to those social events. Having her school, and her name as well, in such high regard means doors are open for her.  The events that almost happen to her students have prevented only thanks to Juggernaut´s stupidity and Emma is well-aware of that.

Oh, right. Kitty and a certain Red Guard are in this equation as well. Not that Emma needs to point this one out.

Oh, speaking on the devil. Emma´s blue eyes narrow as she notices Kitty Pryde, of all people, present in the entrance gate having her arms locked with a certain Red Guard. Oh, Nightcrawler, you´re as subtle and discreet as an elephant in a china store.

Felicia Hardy is Black Cat. Felicia Hardy is a businesswoman and right now, Emma´s date. Coming closer to Emma´s ear to whisper always have double meanings. "Is that...Nightcrawler?"

Nightcrawler is really that popular.

Emma wouldn´t want to introduce herself or have to speak with Kitty Pryde. Sadly,  Black Cat has other ideas.

"Oh my god, you´re Nightcrawler, sorry, that sounds stupid. You know who you are. I just want to say I´m a fan" Felicia speaks in an amicable tone and shakes hands with the azzure man.

Her eyes notice Kitty. Kitty, for her part, was too busy sending death glares to Emma. It was a mutual action.

"Oh, you must be Kitty Pryde, Emma told me a lot about you" Felicia smirks. "anyone who can make the great White Queen nervous is a powerful foe"

Kitty now is taken back by this line. "She used to parade around wearing a corset and nothing else"

"Only because you know it looks good on me...not my fault you have a problem with your body"

"Oh, Emma, don´t confuse my ability to use pants to shame over my body. And for the records, all those plastic surgeons ...and no change on your terrible personality" Kitty has a mock concern expression.

Emma won´t dare to cause a scene. Not tonight.

"Nightcrawler, careful with this one. She´s a handful" Emma decides to say only this. Felicia and Emma are holding hands and walking away.

Kurt couldn´t leave this reply without a proper answer. "Oh, God. I hope so. I hope she´s the kind of the woman my mother warned about"

Emma has no response. Felicia is cackling. Kitty is looking at her shoes- if anyone asks, she can say how she was admiring such expensive shoes. Only that- and Kurt wonders if that is the right thing to say.

(Kitty´s dress)

__________________________________________________________________________________________

(Wanda´s dress)

Wanda Maximoff is the Witch Queen, as most of her followers and family love to call her, and while she understands traditions and its importance...she must confess how this gathering almost didn´t happen. Wanda is as social as a person can be. 

Tonight, she´s on the edge. Lorna and Pietro aren´t good actors to pretend otherwise.

"Anyone wants booze?" Lorna suggests already with some drinks in hand.

"Sure, but I can´t get drunk" Pietro confessed. "thanks to my powers"

"Wanda?" Lorna asked as Wanda is looking Cap Marvel guiding the boys around - a subtle body-guard. A powerful body-guard- her eyes snap back to Lorna as the other is offering drinks to Wanda.

"Yes, please. I´m not feeling this is a good idea...After everything, I feel we´re sitting ducks waiting to be attacked"

"Wanda...you´re not alone, ok? We´re here to protect you, and everyone else. Let´s be real, not the first time a villain wants to conquer Genosha" Lorna half-joke. No one seems to get her sense of humor.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty was admiring the view. Not Kurt, if he asks, but the people in general. Everyone is so famous and important. Hell, even Emma Frost is important. If her eyes linger on Kurt´s handsome face is only to prove how important he is.

After all, Nightcrawler is the famous Red Guard. The fact he´s here with her still seems a dream.

"Am I that handsome?" Kurt asked smiling showing a part of his fangs.

"I think you know this by now...I´m just impressed by how much important people are here" Kitty confessed. Too honest. Too raw and too afraid at the same time.

"Yeah, everyone here is important"

"I know"

"Even you"

"What?"

Kurt feels this is a small victory. Especially seeing her blushing face. A small victory.

________________________________________________________________________________________

The Queen is not one to ignore heroes. So, once she caught the word Nightcrawler and the famous teacher Pryde are present in her ball, Wanda makes her mission to at least say hi to them.

Poor woman! if she hasn´t thought quickly...her students...

The Queen needs no introductions. Everyone knows her face. Kitty´s eyes widen and without thinking much-if she was thinking at all- she makes a bow and puts her right hand´s palm in her forehead and speaks this line.

"Enchanted to meet you, Witch Queen"

It came out so naturally. Kitty wonders if someone is controlling her movements or something because she feels too abashed to say anything else.

Kurt is at a loss for words here.

Wanda claps her hands together. "Oh, a fellow witch too?" her eyes are glowing. For once, not with her power.

"No, Your Highness. One of my students is a witch and goes to the Cackle Academy in the summer. Her parents believe in education in the magic system and in the mutant system...and I can always learn something new"

Better be honest with the Witch Queen.

Is the wise decision as Wanda nods in approval.

"Still, it's nice to see people paying respects to the Witchcraft rituals. Anyway, you´re Katherine Anne Pryde. I...just want to say how brave you were for dealing with Juggernaut until the Red Guards arrived" Wanda speaks with poison. As a real Witch Queen should.

"Well, he didn´t want to lead me any sword...I had to be creative" Kitty responds.

Wanda chuckles and nods. "You´re creative enough. Maybe next time, Nightcrawler can lean one of his swords" and adds. "still, I´m happy you and your students are unharmed and I promise you...this won´t happen again"

Kurt is really at a loss for words here.

Wanda excuse herself as she has to talk with the Queen of Wakanda. Ororo Monroe.

"Katzchen...what are you?"

"At this moment, I don´t know...Kurt, can I stay the rest of the night holding your arm?"

"Please"

"Thank you"

[naivepets]

227 Common Dog Names From Around the World | Daily Paws

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From Italy to Australia and all points in between, there ’ sulfur nothing humdrum at all about these internationally-inspired monikers. 227 Common Dog Names From All Over the World barely because this list highlights common dog names does n’t mean they ‘re boring and ordinary ! Adoring positron emission tomography parents all over the populace can be quite clever regarding what to call their exceptionally uncommon canine acquaintance. We ‘ve chosen some of the best so your puppy ‘s name on their chase tags makes them woof with pride.

Reading: 227 Common Dog Names From Around the World | Daily Paws

Top 10 Most Common Dog Names

When you want something hear and true ranked four out of four paw .

Bella

Max

Luna

Charlie

Lucy

Cooper

Daisy

Milo

Zoe or Zoey 

Rocky

RELATED : These Are the Top Most Popular Dog Names from 2021

woman sitting next to her dog near a window

credit : nd3000 / Getty

Most Common Female Dog Names

Anything but coarse, girl frank names like these stand out year after year.

Nala

Lily or Lilly

Kona

Piper

Mia

Bailey

Lucy

Winnie

Riley

Coco

Molly

Ivy

Stella

Roxy or Roxie

Willow

Gracie

Lola

Dixie

Princess

Lady

Ginger

Paisley

Nova

Riley

Coco

Hazel

Molly

Stella

Lexi

Aspen

Juno

Xena

Most Common Male Dog Names

Why are these common son cad names thus popular ? Because people can relate to them .

Buddy

Tucker

Jack

Leo

Duke

Winston

Bear

Teddy

Loki

Archie

Joey

Oliver

Beau

Murphey

Jax

Gunther

Bentley

Finn

Ace

Scout

Ross

Louie

Gus

Moose

Hank

Bruno

Ollie

Lucky

Thor

Chandler

Kobe

Bandit

Common Mexican Dog Names

¡Toma ! Perfect for your particular south-of-the-border pup.

Read more: Benadryl For Dogs: Dosage, Benefits, & Side Effects | Wild Earth

Nina

Diego

Mariposa (butterfly)

Hermosa (beautiful)

Maya

Fernando

Esmerelda 

Oscar

Sonora 

Alma (soul)

Perrita or Perrito (little dog)

Durango

Pablo

Sofía

Hidalgo

Conejito (little bunny)

Beso (kiss)

Rosa

Paco

Josefina

Common German Dog Names

fantastic andiron names for your exceeding wunderhund from Germany .

Adele

Kurt

Heidi

Fritz

Liebling (favorite)

Schatz (treasure)

Petra

Otto

Greta

Manfred

Blitz (lightning)

Aldo (old, wise)

Mitzi

Arno

Ingrid

Rolf

KnuddelbÄr (cuddle bear)

Süsser/Süsse (sweet)

Ludwig

Giselle

RELATED : 150 fun german Names for Your New Pup

Common Dog Names in the UK

home of Queen Elizabeth ‘s corgi and dorgis, you ‘ll likely gain royal inspiration from these names .

Queen 

Princess

Duchess

King

Prince

Duke

Maxima

Alexander

Monty

Linnet

Piper

Ranger

Holly

Fergus

Mary

Harry

Ruby

Earl

Goldie

Baron

RELATED : 150 Royal Dog Names for Your Pampered Pooch

Common Italian Dog Names

Whether you love all things italian or have a new cane or cagna who ‘s italian, these monikers are molto ( great ! )

Enrico

Rosetta

Fabio

Carmela

Vito

Pippa

Tito

Carlotta 

Dolce

Gabbana

Prada

Gucci

Alfa

Romeo

Leonardo

Lavinia

Mario

Alonza

Renzo

Elena

Common Japanese Dog Names

Show your Nihon Ken ( japanese dog ) how special they are with a inheritance name .

Hana (flower)

Yumi (beautiful)

Kimi (noble)

Akio (hero)

Pikachu (something that doesn’t make noise)

Taiyo (sun)

Taiko (Japanese drum)

Yuki (good fortune)

Koro (roly-poly)

Nami (wave)

Tadeo (loyal)

Yoshi (good luck, good, righteous)

Pochi (the Japanese equivalent of ‘Spot’)

Zūmu (zoom)

Chisai tori (little bird)

Fuji (unique)

Chibi (small child)

Yuri (lily)

Taeko (brave)

Eiji (prosperity or peace)

RELATED : 117 japanese Dog Names With Meanings That Are Super Cool

Read more: Why Do Dogs Bark At Nothing – Wag!

Common Australian Dog Names

For your whip-smart australian frank or merely a ripper ( actually cool ! ) pooch with the same spirit and energy .

Oz or Ozzie (short for Australia)

Dingo

Irwin

Baz

Joey

Hogan

Foster

Darwin

Bunji (Aboriginal modern term for friend or mate)

Malparara (Aboriginal for two friends)

Dulili (Aboriginal for together)

Nunkeri (Aboriginal for beautiful)

Sheila

Bindi

Sydney

Isa

Adelaide 

Sia

Bonzer (good) 

‘Roo (short for kangaroo)

Most Common Dog Names After Foods of the World

Did person say snacks ?

Taco (Mexico)

Pozole (Mexico)

Nacho (Mexico)

Pretzel (Germany)

Schnitzel (Germany)

Pumpernickel (Germany)

Bangers (UK)

Kipper (UK)

Rumbledethumps (UK)

Gelato (Italy)

Cannoli (Italy)

Pesto (Italy)

Momo (Japan)

Soba (Japan)

Yuzu (Japan)

Kiwi (Australia)

Avo (Australia)

Biccy (Australia)

Champ (Ireland)

Boxty (Ireland)

Coddle (Ireland)

Bulots (France)

Cassoulet (France)

Baguette (France)

Jamón (Spain)

Pimiento (Spain)

Sangria (Spain) 

Blini (Russia)

Ikra (Russia)

Pashka (Russia)

Moussaka (Greece) 

Tzatziki (Greece)

Dolmades (Greece)

RELATED : 153 of the Cutest Food Names for Dogs That Like Snacks angstrom much as You Do

generator : https://blog.naivepets.com Category : Dog

source https://blog.naivepets.com/what-are-good-dog-names-1645836156

[gendercraft]

Outast: Revisited [Chapter Eight: Waylon]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore; the gore actually gets kinda intense here; let me know if i missed anything

The warm gas spilt over Waylon in the decontamination chamber. His heart raced, his muscles tensed; he was ready to run. The doors were barely open by the time he made it out. 

Manera cut him off as he flew through the labs. Waylon skidded to a stop just in time, the buzzsaw tickling his nose. The saw swung, and Waylon ducked, gasping. Stumbling backwards, he staggered to his feet, and caught the saw just as it came down on his chest. 

Fabric tore, sterile air brushed against his chest. Waylon yanked the saw as hard as he could, and it came free from Manera’s grip, only to hurdle over his head, down towards the decontamination chamber. 

Manera and Waylon stared. Waylon was tense, ready to fight. Manera’s gaze slipped past his, landing on the still buzzing saw. 

Throwing Waylon to the ground, Manera raced towards his weapon. Waylon hit the concrete with an ‘oof’ but immediately stumbled up and sprinted for the door. 

He made it back to the hall and didn’t stop until he reached the chamber with the victim. Heart sinking, he stepped inside. 

The man was dead. Keeping an ear out for the saw, Waylon knelt down and looked closer. It was a security guard. A little bit of weight lifted off Waylon’s shoulders. The security guards had been cause for death even before all this, he couldn’t imagine what this man might have done to patients in the chaos. 

He straightened up and took a second to close his eyes. His mind tried supplying him with thoughts of family, things this man might be leaving behind, but Waylon pushed it away. He wasn’t a man. He was a Murkoff employee. Waylon had better things to be worrying about. 

Like if Miles Upshur would be waiting for him in the prison.

He stepped through the chamber and it led him into the dense gray fog outside, a staircase encased in chainlink. Reloading his battery, he hurried down the stairs. When he arrived on the dirt, he brought his night vision up, only to wince at the brightness. Bringing it down, though, he couldn’t see two feet in front of him. There was no way to cut through the fog. He’d have to be blind. 

“No! NO!” 

A scream. Is it him, the cannibal? Could be pleasure or pain, Waylon wouldn’t guess. Did Manera even know? His voice sounded like… something I wanted while watching the Engine. Its only message was hunger, to crush and consume. 

Waylon whipped around. No one was there. 

“You were mine!” 

Peeking through his camera, he zoomed to the building, one of the upper windows. Manera stood in the frame, face twisted. 

I’m going to try and forget it, Lisa. If I get out of here, I’m going to come back to you. 

He found his way to an open chainlink door, the floor covered in bloody footprints. The trees surrounding him were dead, bare branches arching into the air and poking at his back. Footsteps sounded from every direction, sometimes far away, sometimes close by, and the occasional scream or curse carried in the howling wind. Part of Waylon was curious about what else was going down in the asylum; how many people were trying to escape? How many were succeeding? How many were just venting, killing out their frustrations? The other part of him knew he’d never recover if he found out. 

Two patients ran across his vision, almost entirely obscured by the fog. Waylon held his hands out and got ready to dash but neither of them saw or cared that he was there. He swallowed. There was never any telling who’d attack him in this place. 

A cobble path appeared in the dirt. Waylon followed it to a stone staircase leading to the left and the right. The right was locked, so he headed through the chainlink doorway on the left. It was a small alley between the prison watchtowers and a bricked-in basketball court the patients were supposedly allowed in every now and then. Emphasis on supposedly. 

“Three hundred sixty four…” 

A grunt, a smack. Waylon trailed around the brick until he found a grated door. He zoomed in on his camera, and his stomach lurched. A patient, shooting hoops, with a human head. 

The head looped around the rim and smacked to the ground. Blood dusted the concrete, and the patient strolled over to pick it up like nothing was amiss. 

He’s playing alone and losing. Waylon took a step back. That is what the game is. 

There is a mathematical proof, if you add 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 and so on up to infinity, you can arrive at an answer. If you stop shy of infinity, you have an indescribably large number. If you continue all the way to infinity, you arrive at—1/12. Negative 0.0833333 repeating. I’m losing my grip on things. 

Waylon was thinking about the drive to Mount Massive, 400 miles in a rented truck. The job that showed up just in time to cover their bills, their debts, the insurance. The boys sleeping in the back. Nothing but AM radio. Gospel, Country-Western, late night paranoiac talk radio. They sang Patsy Klein songs and laughed at conspiracies of aliens and ghosts. Mile marker numbers passing in headlights. 

I don’t want to die here. 

There was no way forward, so he backtracked. Out of the previously locked right side of the staircase, a patient came running out holding a pipe. Waylon leapt back but the patient ran right down the stairs and disappeared into the fog. Swallowing, Waylon pushed forward through his abandoned open door. 

The ground was wet. Waylon’s bare feet ached, stung, burned. He’d never felt grosser in his life, covered in sweat and blood and snot. 

He didn’t have time to think about that. Finding a hole in the fence, he dropped himself onto a metal walkway. It clanged as he rushed through. Dropping down to the concrete at ground level, he found a ladder that led him up to the courtyard. 

Mount Massive’s prison courtyard was split up into several very small sections by chainlink. Most of the doors would be locked—a maze. He passed by a few wooden picnic tables and reached a hole in the fence that allowed him into the main pathway. The metal poked and scraped at his sides as he slid through. 

Despite the fog, it was a bit more well-lit here. With all the puddles, it must’ve rained recently, and looked like it was about to again. 

He paused as voices purred from the shadows. 

“I would like to kill him.” 

“As would I.” 

Waylon’s hairs stood on end. Two men, naked, identical, passed by the locked chain door inches from Waylon’s face. They disappeared into the fog. 

They can’t find you. Keep going. 

He kept going. 

He arrived at another small area with a picnic table, surrounded in chain link and brick, only for the two men to enter through a side door. One took the right side, the other took the left. 

They stared. 

Waylon inched towards the door they came in from. 

A smirk curled on Leftie’s mouth. Waylon prepared himself to run, to leap, to dodge, anything, but the twins just stared, grinning, smirking, eyes twinkling. Their machetes glinted in the moonlight. Where the fuck did they get machetes? 

Waylon slipped through the door and slammed it closed behind him. He broke into a sprint, racing through the fenced in main path, stepping on broken glass and twigs and rocks. Slamming a chainlink door open, something flew in front of his face. He yelped and stopped. Glancing back, panting, he frowned. Did they follow him at all? They were nowhere in sight. 

He looked down, and his mouth went dry. Another head. What was with these fucking freaks playing basketball with heads? Could they really find nothing else? 

He zoomed in with his camera. The hoop was full of carnage, dripping body parts, red all over the ground below. A shuffle behind him—he whipped around. The twins were coming. They’d been following after all. 

Stumbling into the court, he dodged the blow from the player, who rasped out, “Shirts and skins or fuck off!” 

The player shoved Waylon towards the exit, a ladder leading up the side of the building. “Spoilsport!” 

“Yeah, my bad,” Waylon gasped. The gate creaked open. The twins stepped inside. Waylon ran for the ladder. It led him up to a watch tower, where he took a moment to lock himself inside. He pulled out one of the wooden chairs and dropped his face in his hands. 

I don’t want to die here. 

Something on the table caught his eye, the words ‘exposed to the Engine.’ Pulling the email closer, Waylon squinted at the paper. 

 From: j.billings@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: k.vigalando@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: re: “Patient” Samul 

 Kurt, we’ve got another one, and I’m not sure you’re gonna be able to check it off as “Psychopathic Proximity Disorder.” 

 Security guard all the way up in the Admin block is our latest non-patient employee to start seeing Wernicke’s fairy tales. He was never directly exposed to the Engine, never even made it below level 1 in the building. It would be an enormous breach of protocol and security if doctors were speaking of the Walrider within hearing of a contracted security guard. And seems vanishingly improbable that he would stumble into such an obscure mythological story on his own. 

 It’s too similar to the Dr. Samul case, or the others before him. It’s one thing for formally sane medical personnel to fall under the delusions of their patients. It’s another thing entirely for those beliefs to be… I don’t know. Airborne. We need to talk in person. 

 Billings. 

 Waylon stuffed the paper in his pocket. He had no idea what to make of it. Wernicke… Waylon had heard that name before. Checking through the other documents he’d collected, he found mention of Wernicke’s research. Wernicke was why the Walrider existed. Wernicke created the engine. 

Wernicke was the reason he was trapped here. 

He forced himself to leave the safety of the watchtower to head across the catwalk. A patient ran past him. 

“Shhh! Shut up! Shut up, all of you! We’re not alone down here. It’s just what they want us to think. You’re going to draw it. Shh!” 

We’re not alone down here. 

Waylon swallowed. 

He reached another watchtower and climbed a ladder, bringing him even higher. A patient stood at the railing, looking down, looking very much like he was contemplating. 

“Don’t trust them,” he said with a sigh. 

Waylon brought his camera up. 

“They’ll tell you it’s science but it’s not. They were… waiting for us. In this place. Billy understood. They’ve always been here.” 

He wiped his sweaty palms on his jumpsuit and headed for the nearest door. It let him into a larger building, and down the hall by the flickering light, a few patients ran past. Blood splattered the walls. Waylon passed by a barricaded door cracked open, the shadows on the wall beating another to death. Everywhere he went, patients were running, hiding, killing each other, barricading themselves in doors. 

Waylon finally found his way to the security room, where a dozen screens showed the entire prison block. 

And the radio. 

Waylon broke into a sprint. 

“Leadville 911, what’s your emergency?” 

“Mount Ma—” 

A hand closed over the radio. An elbow slammed into Waylon’s nose, his vision blurring as he choked and fell on his back. Jeremy Blaire smashed a police baton into the radio, once, twice, three times—Waylon had to run. He jumped to his feet and headed for the door, only for the baton to crash into his face and land him back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. 

“Fuck!” He gasped. 

Blaire climbed on top of him and pressed the baton to his neck. “Waylon Park!” He laughed dryly. “You couldn’t just…” A growl built in the back of his throat. “You couldn't just keep your mouth shut. You couldn’t just play along. But you’re done talking now.” 

Waylon’s throat burned. His vision was pulsing, his eyes throbbing. His head was going to explode. 

Something crashed. 

Blaire looked back. 

He climbed off of Waylon, who sucked in a huge, gasping breath, and waved the baton at him. “Do me a favour and die here, Park,” he snapped, then ran from the room. 

Waylon couldn’t get up for a good few minutes. He gasped for breath, holding his throat, his heart racing through his entire body. 

He ended up on all fours, dragging himself to the doorway. He was almost to his feet when a body flew through the once-closed door that led deeper into the asylum. Huffing grunts and snorts sounded down the hall. Waylon pressed himself against the back of a desk, eyes wide. He peeked around the side. 

Chris Walker.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klainetober one-shot - “One of Those Nights” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt gets ticked after a night out with his boyfriend, so he does a number of unusual but effective things to get his point across. (1478 words)

Notes: A re-write for the @klainetober prompt 'vampire'.

Read on AO3.

Kurt storms into his apartment, shoving the door open with his shoulder when it sticks in the frame. It flies inward and slams into the wall. He catches it on the rebound and throws it shut. Blaine blocks his face before the slab of wood can flatten his nose.

“Kurt …” Blaine closes the door quietly behind him and slides the bolt into place. “Think about the neighbors. It’s after midnight.”

“Fuck the neighbors!” Kurt spits, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto the sofa. “Or wait - are they on your list, too?”

“I don’t have a list.” Blaine picks up Kurt’s jacket, shakes out the wrinkles, then hangs it on its hook by the door.

“Are you sure? Because it seems like no one is safe from you!”

“Do you really think I’d go after sweet little old Mrs. Hoffsteder?” Blaine chuckles. “She’s ninety-three!”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem all that discerning.”

“I said I was sorry.”

Kurt says nothing, acts like he doesn’t even hear. He walks into the kitchen, opens the refrigerator door, and grabs a bulb of fresh garlic. Blaine watches Kurt peel the paper off and rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be like that,” he whines, leaning against the counter and staying at a minimum safe distance as Kurt shoves four whole cloves in his mouth – chewing them and swallowing one at a time, each followed with a shiver of revulsion and a glare of determination. “How many times do I have to tell you!? I wasn’t going to bite him …”

Kurt pushes off the counter, idly tossing the remaining garlic in Blaine’s direction. Blaine ducks as the bulb whizzes by an inch away from his right eye. Blaine follows Kurt as he walks into the bathroom, lingering in the doorway as he watches his enraged boyfriend stick a sterling silver barbell into the piercing in his tongue … the largest gauge he owns.

“Kurt? Love? Don’t you think you’re overreacting a tiny bit?”

Kurt glances up into the antique, silver-backed mirror, barely acknowledging the existence of the creature behind him who has no reflection and casts no shadow. Without removing his eyes from the deceptively empty space, he deftly inserts his silver eyebrow hoop as well.

“Come on!” Blaine moans in desperation as Kurt blows past him, kicking off his heavy boots and stomping off toward the bedroom. Despite his supernatural speed (and thanks to the wall of garlic stench repelling him with every step), Blaine doesn’t reach the door before Kurt slams it shut and turns the lock. Blaine could simply tear the door from its hinges, but then he would surely be sleeping on the streets tonight. “I told you a thousand times, that beach-blond surfer type doesn’t do a thing for me, despite the fact you think I was in love with Sam for all those years in high school.”

“You were!” Kurt yells. “Tina told me!”

“And you listen to Tina? She had a thing for me, remember?”

Kurt goes silent. Blaine hopes that’s a good sign, that maybe Kurt is giving his argument more thought. He’s not really making the best case for Kurt forgiving him by throwing one of their oldest friends under the bus, but one of the side-effects of becoming a vampire, it seems, has been the loss of his tact and debonair.

Even he has to admit that lately, sometimes, he acts like an ass.

Blaine listens at the door, waiting patiently for Kurt to unlock it and let him in. He hears Kurt slip into his lounge pants and tank top, and pull the comforter down on the bed. He remains hopeful, but the longer the door stays locked, the more he gets the impression that Kurt is, in fact, not going to open it, which irritates the hell out of him.

He didn’t do anything! He didn’t! He can’t help it if, by virtue of being a vampire, humans are inexplicably attracted to him. It’s an aura he puts out, he guesses. He doesn’t know for sure. Reliable reading material is scant on the subject of the dynamics of sexual attraction where humans and vampires are involved. He’s asked Kurt dozens of times if he feels any differently towards him, any urges he can’t ignore, or maybe a deeper sense of undeniable carnal desire towards him.

Kurt said yes.

He wished he’d been smarter than to fall in love with a man who can’t tell an injured kitten from a vampire bat, particularly one with silver fangs and glowing red eyes.  

“For the thousandth time,” Blaine wails in frustration, “I was not flirting with him! I was not, I was not, I was not! Jesus Christ, Kurt! Why do you have to be so flippin’ jealous all the time---oops!”

Blaine’s eyes pop when he hears Kurt gasp.

If he still had a heartbeat, it would have stopped.

Bare feet pad across the floor towards the door and Blaine swallows hard.

“Uh … Kurt?” Blaine starts, trying to formulate the right apology without knowing where on earth to start. He’s not wrong. He didn’t consciously do anything that would have caused that guy to buy him a drink, hover too close, try to cut in every time he and Kurt took to the dance floor. He did nothing to lead him on.

But he didn’t discourage him, either.

Unfortunately, that seems to be a running theme with him - not knowing how to tell guys to back off. But Blaine feels that if he starts with that, things will tangent off in the direction of other argument-worthy subjects. Like pretty much every bad thing that’s happened between them since high school.

But if he can get Kurt to open the door and talk to him calmly, rationally, he might have a chance at winning his boyfriend back.

Of course, if he uses the words ‘calm’ or ‘rational’, Kurt might set him on fire.

Would it be horrible to admit he’s hoping that if they can’t resolve this, that they have another big blow out, which would then lead to angry sex? Because Kurt can be hot as fuck when he gets angry.

Either way, Blaine was looking forward to sex tonight. He’s hoping it’s still on the table somewhere, even if it’s stuck to the bottom like week-old Juicy Fruit.

The door opens a crack and Kurt’s body fills the space. Kurt looks at the face Blaine pulls: pouty lip, raised brows, and wide, puppy-dog eyes - the mask of an apologetic six-year-old with a severe case of the “ulterior motives”. Kurt scoffs. Then, without a word, he turns away from the door and bends at the waist.

“No,” Blaine says in a panic when he realizes what’s coming. “No … Kurt? Come on … we’ll talk about it … I promise … it’ll never happen again … I …”

But an unfazed Kurt lifts a plastic bucket and turns it over, spilling hundreds of glass marbles all over the floor. Blaine watches the multitude of colored spheres cascade from the doorway and roll around his feet. Kurt tosses the bucket out and slams the door shut again.

Blaine groans as he stares at the marbles that he’s going to have to collect up and count. A second strange side-effect of vampirism – arithmomania. A compulsive need to count things in his environment. He found out about it not long after his transformation when Kurt accidentally dropped a packet of poppy seeds on the carpet. Hence the switch to hardwood floors.

It gave Blaine a whole new outlook on one of his favorite Sesame Street characters, except The Count always seemed so happy about having something to count. To Blaine, it’s maddening.

“Mature, Kurt. Real mature,” Blaine mutters, kicking at the marbles, watching them skid and bounce away.

“What!?” Kurt snaps, opening the door, his cheeks burning red. Blaine’s eyes fall on the silver chain and cross dangling from Kurt’s neck, and immediately he drops to his knees, grabbing up the plastic bucket and a handful of marbles.

“I … uh … nothing. Nothing, I was just … I was counting … out loud.” Blaine clears his throat and starts dropping marbles into the plastic bucket. “One (plunk), two (plunk), three (plunk), four (plunk) …”

The door whips shut, rattling the frame. Blaine looks up, certain the force behind it broke the thing in two, and sees the light underneath go out.

Kurt is not going to wait up for him to finish.

Blaine sighs, sitting back on his heels and closing his fingers around the marbles, tempted to crush them into sand. Except then Kurt will have him counting the grains and there will be ten times as many.

Blaine goes back to dropping the marbles into the bucket.

“It’s going to be one of those nights.”

[weirdlandtv]

Like the 1960s generation had The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Bob Dylan, the Big Three of the 1980s were Prince, Michael Jackson, and Madonna. Their new albums weren’t just song collections, they were messages uttered by the Oracle up on the mountain, echoing across the valley. They were events, statements, re-incarnations. Each new album presented a new persona for fans to imitate and for critics to evaluate, or, in the case of Prince, decipher. (Artists, back then, had to change with each new release or else be considered irrelevant. David Bowie entered the 1980s a smart yuppie, George Michael in the span of 7 years went from sparkling teen idol to sensitive, searching biker cowboy.)

Michael Jackson and Prince were regarded as rival gods, with the former more commercially successful but the latter preferred by most serious music critics (though in reality, fans, like me, liked both). Michael Jackson played games with tabloid journalists, who in turn responded with growing hostility; Prince played pranks on music critics, who wilfully allowed themselves to be deceived and wowed by this inscrutable prodigy.

Michael Jackson’s Avalon was Neverland, a fantasy dream that always invited ridicule (though not from me); Prince’s Mount Olympus was Paisley Park, a place deemed so mythical that fans constructed their own maps from the few photos and bits of footage that existed of it, and then endlessly speculated on what life was like inside of it: the parties, the concerts, sacred rituals, whisperings, the spontaneous nightly sessions. “Did you know,” they’d say, wide-eyed, “Prince has this huge vault of original masters and unreleased music right under Paisley Park? Only he knows the key code.” Whole albums (all masterpieces of course) had disappeared into that vault, never to be heard by ordinary mortals. And he never slept: nobody had ever caught him sleeping. He just went on and on, creating music. That was Prince, the enigmatic wonder, the living love symbol, and flamboyant question mark.

I still find it strange to realize so many of the artists I just mentioned, who so energetically populated my childhood and early teens, are dead. Michael Jackson, Prince, David Bowie, and George Michael all died within 7 years of each other; but there’s also Whitney Houston, Freddie Mercury, Kurt Cobain, and so many more. (Compare 1960s giants Paul McCartney, The Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan, who are still touring and releasing records.)

When Prince died, a little more than three years ago today, I was on Texel, an island to the north of Holland, where I live. I checked my phone, checked the news, like you so stupidly do every now and then, and then saw the incredible headline. A sunny day, clouds seemed to appear that moment. Some people love celebrity deaths and follow juicy rumor sites about who punched who and who stepped out of the limo without their knickers on; me, I get depressed. It’s like having swallowed a stone. The sensationalist cries around every celeb death to me are like a beehive of bad vibes, a pest, and I have to stay away from it as far as possible if I want to protect my mental health, or what’s left of it. Prince’s death made me take things slow for a week or so. I have to mentally chew on such things, change my settings, ease into the new reality, let my heart adjust to its new weight. I’ve often had to deal with death in my life, sometimes it’s as if every high-profile death shocks me back into that familiar feeling of dread and despair.

Though Michael Jackson’s Neverland has turned into a derelict theme park that carries the curse of being unsellable, Prince’s Paisley Park has become a museum. Occasionally, browsing the internet, I see photos of it, and I’m always struck, kind of uneasily, about how soulless it seems. What does the lair of an extravagant hermit look like? What did I expect? Not something that looks like the atrium of a New Age company maybe. Looking at the interior, those sad police photos that were released last year, I can’t help but see the stupendous mundanity of it all. The building itself, somewhere in a suburb outside of Minneapolis, resembles a bunker, and though the pyramid skylights, that vaguely resemble guard towers, provide some natural light, the rest of the building is artificially lit, but dark. The recording studio is just that. Some of the walls have sayings like “Everything You Think Is True”. Stained glass with stars, clouds, and guitars. There’s a potted plant here, and an ugly tangle of phone cords in the corner there. Prince’s bedroom was sparse with empty green walls, and a plastic trash can you can buy at your local Walmart (but he never slept of course). The legendary vault reminds me of the storage room of my dad’s old electronics company, with its disorderly shelves and half-opened cardboard boxes. And everywhere, in every corridor and every space, there’s Prince iconography, but it’s rather bland, like the cover of a cheap unofficial biography.

For Prince, it must have been strange living in your own mausoleum.

The music that came from that place though. I believe PARADE (1986) was the first full album he recorded there, and then everything that came afterwards. My uncle was a real Prince fanatic, taking a slew of albums with him whenever he stayed with us, bootlegs too, so from an early age I became quite well-versed in all things Prince. Bits of his lyrics are as familiar to me as old family sayings. Personal favorites are the albums 1999 (1982), BATMAN (1989), and the LOVE SYMBOL ALBUM (1992). I like the street-smart humor of his early stuff, the raw passion, the in-your-face sex metaphors, with symbols as loud as cymbals, just the wild mercury sound of it; later on, his work became more spiritual, and harder for me to follow. His whole being though was music, every movement was a melody, every step a beat; he created music the way other people breathe. He had more songs in him than a duck has quacks. If you listen to the posthumous release, PIANO AND A MICROPHONE 1983, it’s as if the piano, microphone and artist aren’t three separate things, but one organism, bleeding and generating music; it features some wonderful, loose playing. It seems to me that towards the end of his life, in physical pain and unable to play a piano or guitar unless stuffed with elephant tranquilizers, he started to drift, and drift further, until he fell over the edge.

Like Bob Dylan, whose mystique and inaccessibility he shared, Prince had a habit of frustrating his fans, by deliberately excluding a great song from an otherwise so-so album and storing it in his vault, or by making his music hard to buy or even find (online, before he died, there was almost nothing). That’s one reason I kind of stopped following him; the other is the depressing decline of his songwriting since the 1990s. Looking at his later albums, which I first dutifully bought until I didn’t anymore, there’s hardly anything I really like. None of the best-of compilations collect anything from after the 90s. What happened? Age is part of it of course. A decline in quality is inevitable, most musical artists do their best work in their 20s and 30s. It’s also possible Prince’s brand of singing about his women like they are divine vaginas simply went out of style. Once cheeky and outrageous (his work was why Parental Advisory stickers were invented), his songs no longer shock us 21st centurians. We’ve seen so much already. Dirty sex wasn’t the only topic he sang about of course (far from it), but it’s the one he pushed forward the most as part of his image; his “royal badness” was part of his appeal. (The BATMAN soundtrack originally was going to feature Michael Jackson as Batman, the force of good, and Prince as the Joker, representing decadence, sin, evil.)

But his supposed “badness” was an act of course. The cocky poses, flashy gestures and mean diva looks were an obvious shield against the outside world, a theatrical defense mechanism. An attempt to dazzle people before they can get to you. When you’re shy—and he of course was the shyest—you feel like everyone is constantly watching you, and you become overly aware of how you look, how you walk, how you come across; you are constantly aware of your physical being taking up space. So what do you do when you’re an artist? You perform. Everything you do becomes a kind of performance, a conscious act. It gives you a feeling of control: you know why people are watching, because you’re making them watch you. But the essence of it is always shyness and nerves.

There’s something endearing about that 1983 footage of him being invited on stage for an impromptu jam by James Brown, who a few minutes earlier had invited Michael Jackson up. Ready to upstage his rival, who had just performed some killer moves, Prince takes the stage, struts, plays some random riffs, struts some more, suddenly takes off his jacket and does some tricks with the microphone stand, claps to whip up the audience—and then as he wants to make a fast and sudden exit, he clumsily goes down knocking over a prop, stage hands hastily arriving from all sides to help him up.

He died in an elevator near the lobby, but the spot itself has been covered up by a new wall (it’s near the watchful eyes in the third image). I keep wondering what happened. Was he making his way down to the ground floor from his production offices, or was he going up from the recording studio to his bedroom to maybe sleep? One associate, questioned by police, stated that Prince had told her he “was depressed, enjoyed sleeping more than usual and was incredibly bored”, and that at his last concert, he felt like he was going to fall asleep on stage. Those were rare remarks. An intensely private person, he mostly hid his problems, not just from others, but even from himself. The end, then, was inevitable. As with Michael Jackson six years before, the drugs relieved him of his pain, and then of his life.

He never slept, and when he did, it was 4ever.

[glitterslag]

8, 11,13, 16, 19, 25 with warren for the headcanon prompts?

more warren headcanons bon appetit sluts x 

8.  Can your character keep a secret?

Warren is extremely good at keeping secrets. He’s not the kind of person who gossips or anything like that, and so he would never get the urge to tell a secret, even just that one person. His lips are sealed, especially if it’s you. 

Of course, you tell him all the gossip from your friends and workplace, and he has to admit he finds it entertaining despite himself, but he never has much to tell you back. After a while of you pestering him, he starts making mental notes of funny things that happen or workplace drama so he can tell you later. Once, after you didn’t see him for a whole week, he whipped out his phone during dinner and you saw he’d written everything down in the notes app in his phone 😩💌

But seriously. If it was an actual secret, he’d never tell. 

11.  How do they feel about spiders?

Not good. He will kill them for you, due to his intense need to appear manly at all times but he does not feel good about it. He absolutely hates the fuckers. He’s too Manly ™ to have phobias but if he did have one, spiders would be it. 

13.  Which is worse for your character: intense heat or freezing temperatures?

Warren loves to be warm. He naturally runs hot, plus he’s always in the gym or out running with the dog, so his body temperature is always through the roof. He keeps the heating on in the house and in his car really high. He’s always hanging around the house in shorts and a vest, or just shirtless. Sometimes, when he gets his arms wrapped around you in bed at night, you have to push him away because he feels sweltering. 

He can’t stand being cold. His body just shuts down and he runs out of energy. On really really cold days, he won’t get out from under the blanket he’s wrapped himself in on the sofa. He’ll sit huddled around a hot cup of coffee, shivering and even more sullen than he usually is. 

16.  Is your character artistic in any way?

Warren would say he doesn’t have a creative bone in his body, but you don’t think that’s true. As I’ve said before, he’s got a real flair with the cocktails and the presentation of the food at work, and he likes to put his own twist on things. Even if you two are just having a simple dinner at home, he’s always tweaking things and messing with the presentation to get it just perfect. 

He def has a finsta account dedicated to his artsy food and cocktail presentations that he only allows like, you and a few of his friends to follow. A typical post would be a picture of some gourmet shit he’s cooked up, presented perfectly on a plate (I’m talking herb sprig garnishes, sauce drizzles), and the dog in the background. 

19.  How does your character act when they get sick?

Denial denial denial. I’m not sick, it’s just a cold, yes i totally am fit to go to work shut up, blah blah blah blah. He won’t take medicine. He won’t let himself have any rest. He’s just grumpier than usual. You soon get tired of it and stop bothering to try and take care of him, leaving him to suffer in silence. 

25.  Do you feel that you as person could be close with this character? Elaborate.

Oo this is a good one!!

Personally, even tho I absolutely love the bird boi in theory, I don’t think I could do it in practise. Especially not date him. I’m sorry it just sounds too much like hard work especially re: something @kurt-nightcrawler was saying the other day - he’s a big ol aquarius and I don’t have time for that shit sorry!!!! Maybe if it was 2019 Warren and he got woke and got some therapy for his Man Issues ™ then i could, but otherwise…. ehh.

I do think we would get along as friends/acquaintances tho cause he’s a straightforward, no nonsense person n I respect that. 

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ Moving Metal #3: Welded

📑 Table of Contents | ◂ Previous

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

I felt a sharp tug and I registered the sound of my own groans of pain. It felt like I was moving but my eyes were heavy and it took a lot of strength to get them open. By the time I managed it, I felt exhausted, like I had just run a marathon. My vision blurred a few times before I was able to make out the scenery around me. I was moving, and fast, the purple and black clouds nothing but a blur.

I could faintly make out the sound of thunder, but it was much calmer now and there was no lightning in sight. A bright light filled my vision and I thought I was falling unconscious again but the light soon faded. I was jolted again, the harness pressing tight against my chest.

With a grunt, I wiggled around until I managed to get the damn thing off. I wasn’t moving anymore.

“Jae! Taro!” Monkey’s face appeared by the window and I blinked in confusion.

Why the hell is he yelling my name?

And Taro? My eyes fell on the unconscious man next to me and I struggled to reach over to him. The passenger door squeaked open and I felt warm hands grab my arms, preventing me from moving them any farther.

“Easy there, Jae.” Mark’s soft voice reached my ears and I stopped struggling against his hold, looking at him questioningly. I don’t understand what’s happening right now.

Why is he acting so kind all of a sudden?

Why is Monkey acting so concerned?

And why the hell is Taro unconscious?

I winced when that horrid alarm started to sound again followed by a screech like nails on a chalkboard. Vert cried out and tires started to squeal. Seriously, what the hell is happening right now?

A red and white vehicle pulled up beside us and Lani stepped out, opening up the back. “Come on, let’s get everyone to the infirmary!”

“No! We have to get back in there and find Kadeem!” Vert argued.

Find Kadeem? What is he talking about?

I tried to sit up to see Vert but Mark pushed me back down and scoffed. “You can’t even find half your car.”

What kind of insult is that? I looked at him strangely. Had Mark hit his head?

“Hey, back off! Markie.”

Shit, I cursed, pushing Mark away as he attempted to keep me in the seat. I have no idea what the hell is going on and I’m tired of sitting here feeling like a damn two-year-old.

“The storm realm can’t be re-opened.” Gig explained. “The wheel of power decides which racing realm to open and when.”

I managed to push the burly man out of my way. With one hand clinging to the roof and one hand threatening to rip Mark’s shirt, I managed to pull myself out of the car and onto my feet. They wobbled like they wanted to give way but I managed to keep them steady.

“Great! One realm’s enough for me.” Monkey commented.

Kurt limped over, his voice angry. Wait, why is he limping? “Typical Metal Maniac. The Teku aren’t afraid to try again.”

“Scrap the Teku!” Monkey responded. “Metal Maniacs do whatever we want! Right, Wylde?”

Wylde left my side, approaching the group. I nearly lost my balance at the lack of grip in my hand, but my body leaned against the car and I regained my support. “Nobody scares Wylde away from a race.”

“What? You want to go back in there?” Monkey couldn’t believe it. “Look what those drone dudes did to us.”

“Look what they did to me.” Everyone’s gaze turned up towards the platform where a man stood. His face was the same as the hologram, so I knew this was Tezla. What surprised me was the fact that his entire body was covered with a metal cast, from his neck to his feet.

The drones did that?

“We have work to do.” He said before turning around and walking away.

Monkey helped Lani get Taro into the back of her Nomad. Kurt refused help.

“Come on, Jae.” Monkey reached out for me but I held my hand up and shook my head. “You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine, Monkey.” I took a deep breath, slowly pushing away from Taro’s car. Once I felt safe enough that my legs would actually support me, I let go. “I just need a minute. Please.”

He stared at me with worry, but finally shook his head and walked away. The Nomad took off for the infirmary. My eyes never left it until it disappeared from sight.

Taro… please be okay.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Everyone had begun working on their cars. I sat on a set of tires beside Monkey, still not feeling a hundred percent, but still doing better than Taro, who remained unconscious.

Kurt hit something, I’m not sure what since I was barely paying attention, but both Monkey and Mark started laughing at him like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“Nice one, Kurt!” Monkey managed through his laughter.

Vert offered to help him, but Kurt stood, declining the offer.

“You’re in no condition to keep working, Kurt.” Lani stood with her hands on her hips. “None of us are.”

“The next racing realm could open at any time.” Dr. Tezla walked up to her.

“So we skip the next realm, so what?” Kurt sounded annoyed as usual. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I actually agreed with him this time. I couldn’t stop thinking about Taro.

“The strange powers you reported.” Tezla began. “The things their cars can do. I believe they earn new powers every time they complete a racing realm. Soon, it will be impossible to stop them.”

“Stop them from what, exactly?” I questioned, more to myself. “World domination?”

If anyone heard me, they chose to ignore me, though Tezla did send a glance my way.

“It’s already impossible,” Lani complained. “The cars aren’t ready and… we’re all exhausted!”

“They are only human, Dr. Tezla,” Gig added. “Unfortunately.”

I scoffed.

“They can’t go against the drones again, not now.” It almost sounded like Lani was begging.

Monkey was inspecting something when he nudged me. “Woah, wait wait. Does anybody else hear music?”

I looked at him strangely but realized he was right. I could faintly hear a booming, like bass.

Monkey jumped down excitedly. “That must be my ride. I got in touch with Tork. Yeah, I told him what happened.”

“That’s no Metal Maniac,” Mark said, but Monkey wasn’t listening. He was right, though. That music clearly belonged to a Teku, or at the very least, someone that liked their music. We exchanged a look.

The sound grew louder as they approached the hideout and soon the sound of Teku music mingling with the sound of roaring engines and squealing tires filled the drome. Sure enough, two Teku cars had arrived, barely missing Lani and Tezla as they slid to a stop.

The first I had never seen before. He was short and wore headphones. It was obvious that the music was coming from his car, tricked out with too many speakers to count. He tapped a button on his bracelet and the music shut off.

“Yo, let’s pump up the bassline.” He said, bobbing his head to the music now playing in his ears.

The second driver was Nolo.

“You had no right to reveal the location of the Acceledrome!” Tezla pointed angrily at Monkey, who made a face in response.

“Hey, hey! I don’t talk to Teku, okay? You can drop that right there.”

Kurt, now using crutches, hopped over to them. “I told them because we need help.”

“Listen. What we are doing here must be kept secret.” Tezla demanded.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I didn’t trust this guy as far as I can throw him. And boy did I want to throw him.

“Why?” Kurt asked in a mocking way. “Who you afraid of?”

“The drones,”

“The drones are finished!” Nolo screamed. “Nobody beats the Teku!”

“You mean, ‘Nobody but the Metal Maniacs’.”

I groaned. Damnit, Mark. Can’t you keep your mouth shut for five seconds?

“I mean nobody.”

“Mark,” I slowly stood up. My legs were still a bit weak, but I had regained quite a bit of strength so far. “Knock it off.”

“Yeah yeah, whateva.”

The roar of an engine made my head whip around towards the entrance of the dome. Tork’s car came into view and I felt relief wash over me.

“Aha!” Monkey felt the same relief as he headed toward the car. “Now that is my ride! Hey, let’s get out of here, Tork.”

“After what you said the drones did to you, Taro and Jae? No way.”

I smiled as I slowly made my way over to our leader. I’m not sure what it is about him, but he always puts my mind at ease. He’s a damn good leader.

But Monkey wasn’t having it. “That’s the idea of leaving, Tork, so they don’t do it again!”

“Nobody does this to my guys!” He announced. “We’re welded.”

“Let’s just get out of here, okay man?” Monkey begged.

Nolo felt now was a good time to add his two cents. “Send this Maniac scum back to the junkyard!”

I growled, feeling my own anger rise. Monkey tried to hold Tork back and sent me a look to try and help him, but I was all for seeing that prick get his ass beat. No one talks about my brothers like that!

“Get off me, Monkey!” Tork easily picked him up and set him to the side, approaching Teku’s leader. I was next to him in a second, ignoring the shooting pain surging through my body. “You better watch it, punk.”

“Stop trying to act tough, Nolo,” I growled, my hand gripping the back of Tork’s shirt as a way to stabilize myself.

The sound of a big rig horn echoed through the dome, successfully gaining everyone’s attention.

“Is that…?” Monkey shot up but quickly shook his head. “No, it couldn’t be. He said he’d be gone for months.”

Tork helped support me as we turned in the direction of the sound. I already knew in the back of my mind who it was and I couldn’t stop the smile creeping up. I should have known that he would come the second he heard what happened.

“Did you tell him?” I whispered to Tork.

He nodded, “Of course I did.”

Ol Smokey, the name of Porkchop’s big rig, burst through a door off to the side that I hadn’t even noticed before, its horn blaring. He slammed on the breaks and the trailer slung to the side, revealing four rugged Maniac cars, one of which belongs to me.

The bulky man stepped out of the cab and Monkey approached him. “You really didn’t have to come, Porkchop.”

With a low growl, he grabbed the strap of Monkey’s bag and hoisted him into the air. “Alright… Who did this to you?!”

“Help!” Monkey cried out, his feet dangling a good foot off the ground. The Teku had grouped up now, watching the spectacle.

“They’re gonna pay,” Porkchop growled again. “You hear me?!” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and ended up catching his eye. He dropped Monkey and rushed towards me.

I swallowed hard and attempted to back away to avoid the large man, but I ended up losing my footing – and by that I mean I moved too fast and tripped over my own foot, sending me to the ground. I closed my eyes, waiting to be jumped, but it never came.

Tork was standing between me and him.

He growled again, eyes narrowed at me. “Tell me who did this! I’ll rip ’em to shreds!”

“Stop monkeying around, Porkchop!” Tork ordered.

I cleared my throat and shifted to a more comfortable position on the floor. “I’m fine, really.”

I don’t think he fully believed me, but he did calm down a bit, muttering a ‘whatever’. This, in turn, made me calm down knowing that I wasn’t about to be squashed like a friggin’ pancake by a man three times my size.

Remember when I said Tork is the largest in our group?

Well, that’s not completely true. While he does have the most muscle, Porkchop is easily the tallest – so he not only has muscle but also height, making him someone you do NOT want to cross.

Or worry, apparently.

“Hey!” I turned towards the voice and my eyes widened. “Let’s get even.”

I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping again as I rushed towards Taro. I must have looked like a fool, considering how many times I almost tripped crossing the distance to him, but I didn’t really care.

I slammed into him, my arms wrapped tight around his torso. He had a brace on his leg and arm, but other than that he seemed fine. I felt more grateful at that moment than ever before.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Taro,” I muttered softly. “I was really worried.”

He patted my back, not quite affectionate enough for a hug. “What about you?”

We separated and I offered him a reassuring smile. “A bit banged up, but I think you got the worse end of the deal.”

He shrugged. “I can live with that. Now let’s go, we got work to do.”

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

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[lyricalbowties]

ENOUGH || Self-Para 11/28

Tagging→  Blaine Anderson (Anderson clan, mentions of Rachel Berry, Kurt Hummel, and Sebastian Smythe.) Where→  Anderson Home. Florence, OR When→ 11/28/19 Warnings→  homophobia

Blaine had done his absolute best to keep away from his family as much as possible on Wednesday. There was a lot Thanksgiving prep going on and this year, apparently, his mother wanted to entertain. When Blaine realized it was due to the family wanting to meet Rachel, he felt a whole new wave of guilt and terror. Blaine was quick to make a lie about Rachel being sick and unable to make it, but it didn’t stop the passive aggressive comments. Hence, the reason for Blaine’s hiding.

It was another lie but Blaine didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t sure how his family was going to take the truth. Or the partial truth of it all. He was always so afraid around them and there was always that need to be perfect. To try and be Cooper. Even if Blaine knew he wasn’t perfect, he still needed to be just like his brother. He couldn’t wait to get back to Ginsburg and his friends. To Kurt. Since finding those notes, Blaine couldn’t stop thinking of Kurt.

As he continued to unpack the night before, Blaine found two additional notes..

(Third note): A blue post-it note, folded and tucked inside Blaine's perfectly folded and creased pants. "I am writing this with my injured wrist. And you aren't here to yell at me. I am thinking this is the beginning of my rebellious phase. Could I pull off vibrant colored hair?" There's a doodle of "rebel" Kurt on the back, with exaggerated features such as eye liner makeup, spiky accessories, and spiked hair in weird directions.

(Fourth & final note): An orange post-it note is folded and tucked inside the suitcases corner. "If you're reading this, that means I'm entitled to a FaceTime with you before I forget what you look like. - K PS. Also if you don't, I officially am swapping living conditions with you. This is my pantry now." 

He was careful to keep all four of them and placed them into the cover of a book he brought back with him. The last note Blaine had memorized word for word and could almost hear Kurt’s voice when he read it or thought about it. He had been tempted to FaceTime him so many times on Wednesday but Blaine wanted to keep quiet so he wouldn’t be roped in to any chores or more passive aggressive comments from his mother.

When Thursday finally came, Cooper arrived. Blaine was pleased he had not been there the day before because he wasn’t sure if he could handle two whole days of his brother. He showed up at 11 to the house and within the hour his aunt Penelope and uncle Jerry, his father’s brother and his snooty second wife, arrived. Thankfully, Blaine’s cousin Andrew an equally snooty thirteen-year-old was off at his mother’s house for Thanksgiving. That was just another thing for the family to gripe about. Blaine liked his Aunt Joan and was actually sad when they divorced. She was a gem and yet somehow her son turned out to be a spawn of Satan. Andrew seemed more like his stepmother’s biological child as they had the worst attitudes of anyone Blaine had met. 

His mother’s sister Mae was unable to join as she and her husband had moved to North Dakota a month prior and still had a lot of work to do around the house. Blaine didn’t mind them so much and wished they had been able to come because it would have been nice to have some kind of buffer. Mae didn’t think Cooper was all that talented and challenged him each time they were together. Blaine loved it. 

Instead he was trapped with his parents, his brother, his step-aunt and uncle, and his older cousin Regina (Mae’s daughter) and her husband and annoying six year old twins Emma and Maggie. 

Blaine could really use a drink and he knew there was no chance to sneak one. He dressed in the outfit Kurt had clearly picked out for him and before heading down to the variable hell that would be dinner, he snapped a picture of himself in the bathroom mirror and sent it along to Kurt with the message…

Here you go. My good side. By the way, thanks for dressing me. And thanks for the notes.

Dinner started off as normal as they could get and it was a lot of talk about how each adult member of the family was doing, discussing work and other boring things. Cooper came in with talk about his show and the fans and how well his book was doing. Blaine hoped that they could eat the rest of their dinner without any kind focus on Blaine.

“So, Blaine. How’s Ginsburg?” His uncle Jerry asked as they moved onto dessert. Naturally, he couldn’t get so lucky.

“Oh, it’s good.” Blaine replied with a small smile.

“Good?” Jerry replied. “Your father is paying thousands of dollars a year for good?”

“Actually,” Blaine started, his eyes flickering over to the other end of the table at his parents. “They aren’t paying for me.”

“Not paying for you?” Penelope asked sounding a little taken aback.

His father cleared his throat. “Well, Blaine got in on scholarships.”

“And loans.” Blaine mumbled.

“What’s the matter James are you too hard up for money you can’t pay for his schooling?” Jerry continued as if his brother had said nothing.

“Jerry, he said that Blainey got in on scholarships.” Penelope said reaching for the apple pie.

Blaine hated that she called him Blainey.

Regina decided to butt in while her husband dealt with the gravy that had been spilled down one of the twin’s dresses. “Scholarships are admirable.” She said. “Means you’re really smart. What are you studying again?”

“Music therapy.” Blaine was doing his best to remain as polite as possible because he knew inevitably what was coming.

“What the hell is that?” Jerry asked a little uncouth, and his wife smacked him on the arm for using such language at the dinner table. “What? I mean what the hell is music therapy?”

“It’s uhm,” Blaine hesitated. “It’s uhm, well it’s a therapist who uses music as a way to help their patients who suffer from emotional or mental-“

“Jesus, that’s what you’re sending him to school for?” Jerry angrily cut off a piece of pumpkin pie and shoved it into his mouth.

“Well, it has been proven to show a lot of—”

“Yeah yeah,” Jerry waved his hand to quiet Blaine. “Sounds like a bunch of stuff for fairies if you ask me.”

Blaine felt as if someone had reached in and squeezed his heart. And Sebastian wondered why he had a problem coming out to his family. He took a shaky breath and tried to keep calm.

“Blaine’s really good.” Cooper spoke this time and Blaine was genuinely surprised. He looked over at his brother, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “He had a showcase in September and he nailed it.”

Blaine smiled a little at his brother who returned his gaze and winked. Cooper was…defending him. And he used his actual name and didn’t call him Squirt. 

“Yeah that’s fine and well for a hobby, but what about a real carrier. Like being a lawyer, a doctor, even a politician.”

“Well, I plan on getting a doctoral degree in-” Blaine started before he was cut off. 

“I think what Jerry means is a real doctor.” Penelope said. “Regina pass the whip cream, would you?”

Blaine’s brow furrowed. “That is a re-”

“Trust me, Jerry we’ve tried to talk Blaine into other majors.” His father replied taking a sip of his wine. 

Blaine hated that he was being talked about like he wasn’t in the room. He blinked and stared dumbfounded at his father. He wasn’t surprised, he had previously known his father’s feelings on his major. But he was a little surprised he was talking about it at all. Normally his parents were quiet about the whole affair. 

“Doesn’t seem like there is much money in music therapy.” Regina commented. 

“I’m not doing it for the money. I want to help people.”

“You could be a doctor and help people.” Penelope said. 

“A lawyer is a nice profession.” Jerry said, pointing his fork at Blaine. 

“It could be lovely to have a lawyer in the family.” His mother commented. 

“I don’t want to be any of those things.” Blaine said raising his voice to be heard. 

“How is he going to marry with a job like music therapist.”

“Oh Blaine’s seeing someone now!” Cooper said. 

“Really? And she isn’t here?” Regina nearly bounced out of her seat. 

“You sure it’s a she?” Jerry laughed. 

“Yes!” Cooper scowled. “She’s adorable. A fan too! She read my book and I gave her a signed copy after dinner the other week.”

“What do you mean by you sure it’s a she?” His father asked.

“Well, to be honest I didn’t think he’d find a girl.” Jerry shrugged. 

“Why isn’t she here?” Penelope asked leaning over to his mother. 

“Blaine says she’s sick. The flu, I think he said. But she’ll be here for Christmas.”

There was so much conversation going on simultaneously around the table it was hard for Blaine to find a way in. 

“Actually, I doubt she will be. She’s Jewish.” Cooper said with pie in his mouth. 

“Cooper, manners.” Their father chided. 

“Jewish?” Penelope blinked and put a hand on her chest. “You couldn’t find a Christian girl? Are they short on those there?”

“I’m sure she’s lovely.” His mother assured. 

“I’m just asking. But I suppose beggers can’t be choosers.”

“ENOUGH!” Blaine shouted, slamming his hands on the table. He was seething by this point. All eyes were on him and the table was silent. There was a lot to touch on in the conversations that were happening and Blaine wasn’t sure where to start. And while he stood there deciding his father spoke up. 

“Blaine.” His tone was even and his stare cold. “Kitchen. Now.” 

He clenched his jaw and hesitated but he shrunk under his father’s gaze. Blaine glanced around the table and each member of his family looked at him various levels of outrage on their faces. His mother looked disappointed and when his eyes fell onto Cooper there was something more like pity there. He followed his father into the kitchen. 

“Dad, I-” He started to apologize as they entered the kitchen but his father rounded on him. 

“No, I don’t want to hear it.” He said trying to keep his voice quiet but the anger was very evident. If not in his tone then on his face. “How dare you raise your voice to your mother and I let alone your aunt and uncle. You will go back out there and apologize for your behavior-”

“My behavior?” Blaine scoffed. “Did you hear the things they were saying? Why should I apologize, I have nothing to apologize for!”

His father waved his hands to silence Blaine. “You have embarrassed me enough tonight.”

Blaine felt tears start to well up in the corner of his eyes. “Why, Dad? Because I’m not Cooper? Because I’m doing something I love rather than what you want?”

“That’s enough Blaine.” 

“No. It’s not. You have always stood up for Cooper and just told me it’s not enough. It’s never enough.” Blaine blinked trying to see through the tears that ran down his cheeks, not stopping to wipe them away. “Cooper is an actor. An actor and me wanting to be a therapist isn’t good enough for you?”

 Blaine wasn’t sure where he found the courage to say all of this. He normally nodded and just did what his parents told him, he wanted them to be proud. But right now, Blaine was too angry to think straight.

“Blaine.” His father said through gritted teeth. “I’m warning you.”

“You let them talk down about my major, about what I want to do with my life. About my girlfriend. And you think I’m out of line? You’re my father can’t you stand up for me once in a while?”

“I said that was enough!” He father shouted. His father took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “It’s hard to stand up for my son when he’s a disappointment. Turn after turn a disappointment.” 

Blaine recoiled at the volume of his father’s voice. He had never been shouted at like that before. It was always a quiet unspoken disappointment never said to his face. 

“Now you can either go in there and apologize, or excuse yourself for the evening. And honestly, I think it would be better if you just went to your room for the rest of the night.” His father wouldn’t look at him now.

Blaine didn’t know what else to say. He just nodded and silently left the kitchen and made his way to the stairs and up to his room and quietly shut the door behind him.

[i-am-a-shining-star]

In Sickness and In Health

Read it on my AO3! : https://archiveofourown.org/works/19449763

Blaine gets sick; Kurt goes overboard trying to take care of him because it reminds him of the months leading up to his mother’s death. Dalton!Klaine

-

Groaning as he slowly drifted awake, Blaine squinted at the white light piercing through the blinds of his bedroom. He took one shallow, ragged breath before his lungs choked up and he began to cough helplessly. Wincing a little, he reached over to his bedside table and fumbled around for the box of tissues kept there. Uncoordinated fingers pattered blindly against the cool surface, but he couldn’t quite get to it from his current position buried under the thick duvet. Huffing an annoyed breath, he wriggled a little further to the edge of the bed and stretched his arm taut, eyes still closed as he tried his best to grab it- until, suddenly, he had lent too far over and managed to flick the box off of the edge, whining as he heard it unceremoniously land on his bedroom floor.

His movement caused Kurt to stir. Tightening the grip around his waist a little when he felt Blaine move to slide out of bed, his brow furrowed gently and caused his nose to crinkle in a way that would have made Blaine’s heart flutter had he been able to open his eyes.

“Where ‘re you going?” He muttered, caught halfway between awake and asleep.

Blaine sniffed. “Sorry, just dropped something…” He coughed again, the sound ringing loudly in the open room. Kurt blinked awake, nearing complete consciousness in a few seconds and shuffling closer to Blaine’s side of the bed.

“Blaine? Are you okay?” He placed a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling the clammy skin and gasping softly. “Oh my gosh, you’re burning up- you must be sick!”

“It’s nothing bad, honestly,-” Blaine began, but was cut off as Kurt’s cool hands began pressing all over the nape of his neck and cheeks and forehead, leaning into the welcomingly cold touch.

“No, no, Blaine, you’ve definitely got a fever…” Kurt was now sat up on his knees, crawling over to brush the curls back from his face. His eyes flickered rapidly from one area of concern to another- his dark circles, rosy cheeks, and overall sickly complexion. His heart rate began to pick up rapidly. “You look terrible.”

Laughing breathily, Blaine rubbed his itchy nose with the back of his hand. “Geez, that’s just what I like to be told by my boyfriend first thing in the morning.” His voice was nasally, his throat sore and dry. “Come on, we need to get ready for school.” He made a start to clamber out of bed, when he felt a surprisingly strong grip on each arm pulling him back.

“No way, Mister,” Kurt said sternly. “You can’t risk making yourself any worse. We’re staying here so I can look after you.”

“Kurt…” Blaine sighed. “You can’t miss school because of me . Go, I’m sure I’ll be okay after a day of rest. Plus, I need somebody to borrow notes from, and you’re the only person in all of my classes.”

“Not a problem, I’ve got us covered.” Kurt was frantically tapping away on his phone, texting their classmates. “Wes for History, David for English, and Hunter for French.” He dropped the phone on the sheets and hopped out, moving around to Blaine and gently laying him back down to tuck him in. “There, that’s better,” He mumbled to himself. Blaine looked up through sleepy eyes, confused but not completely hating all of this extra attention.

“Okay, I’ll go and get you something to eat. Are you comfortable? Do you need another blanket? Extra pillows?” He reached behind his head to fluff up the ones he was currently resting on. “Should I get the fan? You’re still pretty hot.”

Blaine smirked. “You really think so?-” His flirting was interrupted by an untimely sneeze, which he just about managed to cover with his hands. Kurt jumped to action immediately, retrieving the lost tissue box from the carpet and whipping one out, using it to pinch Blaine’s nose, rubbing it carefully. Blaine scoffed, blushing and turning his head away a little. “I’m okay, Kurt. I think I can blow my own nose.” He chuckled.

Kurt frowned, before remembering he had promised them both breakfast. “Back in a sec.” He said, quickly pushing back the stray curls kissing Blaine’s skin before pulling on the Dalton sweatshirt he loved to steal from him ( ‘It smells like you…’ He admitted when questioned by Blaine ) and disappearing downstairs.

-

Jumping a little when he hears the door kick open, Blaine wakes again, having briefly dozed off in Kurt’s absence. His head feels like it’s packed with cotton wool, somehow heavy and light at the same time- however, he doesn’t have much time to think about it before he feels something freezing being pressed to his temples, causing him to let out a small moan of content as he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut.

“You poor thing…” Kurt whispered, kneeling at his bedside and daintily brushing the cloth across his slanted cheekbones, collecting droplets of sweat. Blaine peeked out of the corner of one eye, glancing over at the tray Kurt had brought back with him, laden with enough medical supplies to put the local drugstore to shame.

“What’s all this?” He croaked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Kurt turned to his little station. “Just some Tylenol, some Vaporub, ice water, tea with honey and lemon, and french toast. Homemade, duh.” He chuckled, popping two pills from their packet and handing them to Blaine.

He sat up, blinking as the room around him blurred at the edges, swallowing the tablets with a gulp of water. Kurt pushed the blankets back under his ribs as he lay back, smoothing down the rumpled sheets before pulling the plate holding their food onto his knees and cutting the French toast into small, bite-sized pieces.

“Open up,” He said, pointing a fork with a cube of toast speared on it towards Blaine.

“Hey, I can feed myself, you kno- Mmf!” Blaine was only half sat up before Kurt took the opportunity to stuff it into his open mouth, smiling as he watched him chew.

“Wow, ‘s good!” Blaine said through a mouthful of warm, syrupy cinnamon. “You made this in 10 minutes?”

“Trust me, it’s the least I can do.” Kurt grinned down at his lap, cutting up more little pieces to feed to Blaine, who begrudgingly allowed him to do so.

“This is much more than I would ever expect you to do, Kurt. You really didn’t have to. Thank you.” Blaine sank into his pillow, holding back a sniffle so Kurt wouldn’t dive back in with another tissue… Not that he wasn’t grateful, he thought, it was just a little much. He shouldn’t be weirded out by what was actually a very considerate act of kindness when he was in such a vulnerable state, but he could also feel the nervous energy radiating off his boyfriend, which worried him a little. More than a little, really.

“Okay, I went through your DVD collection and picked out a couple of your favourites to pass the time. Which one first- the Aristocats or the Sound of Music? ”

Blaine hummed. “The Aristocats.”

Kurt nodded in agreement, climbing back into bed and popping the disc into Blaine’s laptop. He slid an arm back around Blaine’s shoulders, tangling fingers in his thick, un-gelled curls and massaging his scalp. Blaine purred and snuggled into Kurt’s shoulders, smiling as the opening theme played.

-

An hour or so later, the movie credits began to roll. Blaine glanced to his right and found that Kurt had fallen asleep, nose buried in their shared pillow and his arm still draped around him. Feeling a twinge in his belly, he realised that he needed the toilet. Badly. But, his clingy boyfriend wasn’t likely to let him brave the ten-second journey alone, so he would have to be sneaky. Blaine shifted out of Kurt’s grip, slowly and painstakingly, trying not to squirm too much. He managed to replace himself with the pillow he was laying on, stifling a giggle when Kurt enveloped it in a hug before wandering out into the hallway to go to the bathroom.

“Blaine?” He heard Kurt call as he finished up his business and washed his hands.

“Here!” Blaine replied, breaking out into a coughing fit again as he stumbled back into the bedroom.

“You should have woke me up if you needed something!” Kurt scolded, up out of bed in seconds to lay Blaine back down. “Does your chest hurt? I can make some more tea, if you give me a minute. I went through the medicine cabinet, but I couldn’t find any cough syrup, do you want me to go and buy some? Hold on, let me get my coat-”

“Kurt, please, calm down,” Blaine grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, trying his best not to sound so hoarse in order to be taken seriously. “I promise you, I’m alright. I can make it to the bathroom without you, I’m not a baby.” They last sentence came out a little harsher than he intended, and he regretted it almost as soon as he said it.

Kurt’s cheeks flushed bright pink, his hand wriggling free from Blaine’s- hurt now twisting in his stomach alongside panic. He felt his throat cramp, and tried to swallow it back before Blaine noticed, but he was too late.

“Oh, Kurt, I- I’m sorry,” Blaine stammered, sighing. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done today. It was so kind of you to stay off school to be with me, and the food you made was amazing. It’s just that you seem to be going sort of… Over the top, I guess?”

Surprised by how little it took to push him over the edge, Kurt’s gaze fell down to his fidgeting hands, blinking rapidly to dry his eyes. Blaine cautiously laced his fingers with Kurt’s, checking to make sure the touch was welcome, and reassured when he felt Kurt squeeze back.

“It’s okay. I mean, it isn’t, but I understand.” Kurt began, hyper-aware of the way his skin prickled with goosebumps at the discomfort blooming in his chest whenever he was forced to speak about this.

“Talk to me.” Blaine spoke quietly, calmly. He ran his thumb across Kurt’s knuckles like the ivory keys of a piano, looking up at him with a warm, concerned gaze.

Kurt took a deep, shaky breath in.

“When I was younger, and my mom got sick, I used to think it was all on me to help her feel better.” He picked at the tassels of the knitted throw he had pulled across their laps earlier.

“It was fun, at first. Playing her little nurse.” A sad half-smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I thought it was just like all the times I’d caught a cold. That it was something that could be fixed with chicken soup and a Disney movie. So, everyday, I would go into her room and do all of the things she did for me when I was ill.” He felt warm, salty tears drip onto his and Blaine’s fingers, running through the crevices like a river descending the mountains.

“But, obviously, it was much worse than that. She stopped playing the game after a while, when things started to get really bad. I tried to sneak into her room when I thought my Dad wouldn’t notice, but she wasn’t even awake most of the time I managed to get past him. I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone to struggle, I wanted to make sure she had everything she needed…”

Blaine’s head was filled with heartbreaking images of a tiny, eight year-old Kurt curled up at his mother’s side, trying his best to nurse her back to health. Braiding her hair off of her face, and patting her brow with a cool cloth, and giving her warm tea to sip through a straw, reading aloud from the books he’d borrowed for her from the school library... He couldn’t believe he’d been so inconsiderate and ignored what was the painfully obvious reason for Kurt’s irrational behaviour.

Fearing he wouldn’t be able to find exactly the right words to comfort his boyfriend, Blaine pulled Kurt into his arms, letting him slump down and bury his face into his chest, breathing in the deep, herbal aroma of the vaporub he’d insisted on applying to him earlier. Snaking his arms around his back, Blaine rubbed his palms flat against Kurt’s trembling shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt turned his head to the side, rubbing his nose with the tissue that Blaine handed to him. “I didn’t mean to make this all about me, or anything. I just… I don’t really talk about it anymore. A lot of people don’t know what to say, so I figured it would just make things less awkward if I keep it to myself.” He brushed the stray tears away from his eyelashes. “But I guess now you know why I get so crazy whenever someone I love is sick…”

Blaine’s heart swelled in his chest at ‘love’ , but he decided to save that conversation for another time. He hugged Kurt tighter, pressing his cheek into his (for once) unkempt hair.

“I’m really glad you told me about this. I’m proud of you for opening up, and honoured that you trust me enough to be so vulnerable.” Blaine patted his back and pulled away from the hug with a soft, genuine smile. “But, I promise you I’m going to be okay. I only have a cold, and it’ll almost certainly be gone by the end of this week. You don’t need to miss out on your life to wait for me to get better.”

Kurt nodded timidly, smiling as he felt Blaine kiss the top of his head.

“I’ll still be here for you every day after school. Then, we can watch as many movies and eat as much french toast as your heart desires.”

Kurt laughed, Blaine’s soothing words taking the edge off of his frayed nerves. He sank back into his embrace, overwhelmingly grateful that he had such a kind, understanding boyfriend.

“I do, however, draw the line at helping me in the bathroom.” Blaine said. “And blowing my nose for me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, muttering something about how he’s ‘Seen much more private things’  than Blaine with a runny nose, causing Blaine’s fingers to scribble around his lower ribs, finding his tickle spot.

“Okay!” Kurt gasped, squirming and shoving his hand away. “I’ll lay off a little bit…”

“Thank you.” Blaine smiled, snuggling back down into his blanket and pulling the laptop back over towards them. “Want to make a start on the Sound of Music?”

Kurt smiled and nodded. “Sure. Oh! You’re due to take more medicine, hold on,” He reached across Blaine and grabbed the packet of Tylenol, passing him two more film-coated pills with a glass of water. “Also, I’ve got this really great chicken soup recipe I’ve been working on, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to test it out. If we relocate to the living room, I can keep an eye on you whilst I make us lunch?”

Blaine grinned, shaking his head fondly, unreasonably smitten with his sweet, overprotective boyfriend. “That sounds great, Kurt.”

Kurt clapped his hands, hopping up and pressing a kiss to the tip of Blaine’s nose and picking up his tray, bouncing out to the kitchen with a blanket-clad Blaine trailing close behind him.

[miasswier]

miasswier’s ultimate glee ranking: no 21

21: Prom Queen

Written by: Ian Brennan Directed by: Eric Stoltz

Overall Thoughts: This is such a good episode. Oh, my god this is a good episode. And it’s one of those episodes where I always seem to forget like, 80% of what happens, so I’m always pleasantly surprised when I watch. Like, actually, there is so little I don’t like about this episode. Let’s get to it.

What I Like:

Kurt being so excited about asking Blaine to prom, but also being willing to not go to prom when Blaine admits why he’s hesitant.

Piling on the sad backstory for Blaine. It’s cool, I guess, it just kills me every time I watch it. No big deal.

Santana and Karofsky are so fucking funny oh my god. Those Bully Whip scenes and them dancing at prom is pure gold.

Karofsky apologizing to Kurt. Honestly, I never thought we’d get such an honest and sincere apology from him, and I remember watching this for the first time and almost bursting into tears.

Mercedes in this episode makes my entire life. Because honestly? I’ve been there. Nobody asked me to my prom either (I ended up going with my back up date, which was my best friend), and while there wasn’t anybody I was specifically wanting to ask me, it still stung not to be asked. I totally get where her head is at in this episode, I get the pain, and the frustration at feeling that pain. I’m so happy that did this, because, UGH, it was just so wonderful and relatable.

Rachel cheering Mercedes up, and then coming up with the idea to go to prom with Sam as a thruple was awesome. I’m not going to lie, if they had gone with Sam/Mercedes/Rachel instead of Sam/Mercedes and then Sam/Rachel I would have been 100% down for that.

That being said, Sam/Mercedes owns my fucking ass, and this was the official start of that. I remember squealing so fucking loud when Sam asked Mercedes to dance. It wasn’t a pairing I’d even thought of before this episode (outside of thinking their interaction in “Hell to the No” was cute) but it took hold of my heart since day fucking one. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I’ve watched that short ass scene.

JESSE IS BACK. I love him so much, and the way he bursts into “Rolling in the Deep” is so amazing. He and Rachel really are made for each other, like, seriously, look at how fucking extra they are together.

“They must have sensed that I was a lesbian. Do I smell like a golf course?”

I love the contrasting post-Prom Queen announcing scenes with Kurt/Blaine, Santana/Brittany, and Quinn/Rachel.

I’m so glad that they gave Quinn an actual reason for why she was being so over the top about this (her “There’s no way I’m staying at this school. I’m going to transfer” kills me every single time I don’t know why but I find it so goddamn funny), and that they had her share it with Rachel in what is probably one of the sweetest scenes Rachel ever shared with another person. Honestly, I have no idea why Faberry never actually became a thing. They set it up so perfectly? And really, the amount of scenes where Rachel actually sets her feelings aside to help Quinn feel better is insane, especially considering she rarely even does this with Finn.

When Brittany tells Santana that she voted for her and believes in her I literally die fuck I love these two so much. Also, I love how Brittany tells Santana to be there for Kurt. The only one out of the four girls who is aware of who this is actually going to be hardest on.

Gosh, the Klaine scenes in this section are just lovely. The way Blaine runs after Kurt without a second thought, the way he just lets him rant, the way he leans into him with that little smile when Kurt decides he’s going to be the bigger man about this and stand up to his bullies… I JUST LOVE ALL OF IT OKAY.

Kurt coming back and accepting the crown. Bless this boy.

Something I never noticed before is that in “Born This Way” Karofsky says he isn’t even sure if he is gay. Here, Kurt asks him to come out by dancing with him, and instead of denying that he’s gay, he just says, “I can’t.” Karofsky is one of those character’s whose journey I was so invested in, and it makes me so happy to see that he’s finally come to a place of accepting that he actually is gay. I like to think that if Kurt had been the protagonist of Glee that Karofsky would have had a much larger role in the show, and I really wish that had been the case, because he’s the type of character I would have loved to actually see take these steps, not just see the highlights during the few moments he’s on screen.

The fact that Finn gets kicked out and is just… gone. He’s kicked out. He’s not in the episode anymore. I don’t know, I just like that.

Rachel telling Finn what to get Quinn. I think the point of this was to set it up for next episode, when Finn didn’t know what flower to get Quinn but he knows which one to get for Rachel, but instead it just seems really fucking gay and like Finn’s girlfriends are more into each other than they are him.

The scenes with Artie and Sue are hilarious.

Puck executing his amazing plan by trying to distract Sue when there isn’t any music. Because he’s a literal idiot.

Jesse’s face when Finn throws a punch at him. I’m pretty sure that boy has never been in an actual fight in his life.

The pictures at the end! I particularly like that Quinn took her picture alone (a HUGE moment for her), and that Kurt and Blaine are the last picture shown!

What I Don’t Like:

I know I already talked about this in my review for “Rumours”, but it does frustrate me that Artie is seen as the one in the wrong for his break-up with Brittany when she was the one cheating on him. Yeah, he shouldn’t have called her stupid, but seriously, is that really worse than cheating?

Finn being so blatantly jealous of Jesse when he’s literally dating someone else. Oh, and that someone just so happens to be right in front of him every single time he lashes out at Jesse. Quinn deserved better than that.

The fact that Rachel sings a song that perfectly describes her relationship with Jesse… to Finn. As Jesse stares on. Like… Glee. Come on.

We don’t get to see Lauren’s reaction to not winning Prom Queen, which sucks, because she most likely knows that Puck didn’t actually want to win, and therefore would probably blame him for her loss. OR she could have just felt bad for Kurt and not even cared. We just don’t know.

Songs:

Rolling in the Deep: I’m so glad they did Adele justice in this episode (unlike the first time they cover her). This cover is so ridiculously dramatic and extra, I fucking love it.

Friday: Ugh, so like, I used to really like this cover, but now every time I see it I think of Mark Salling and the fact that he was the one who suggested it and I just feel… really gross about that. Also, the autotune. It’s embarrassing.

Jar of Hearts: I really do like this song, and I like this cover, but it still annoys me that it perfectly describes Rachel and Jesse’s relationship and Jesse is literally in the episode, but Rachel sings it to Finn.

I’m Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You: This is a cool and fun song, and I think it actually works well as a backdrop for the Finn/Jesse fight. Also, I always find it hilarious when Puck is planning his heist and it shows Blaine singing this song, even though at that point Puck would have no clue that Blaine would even be attending the prom.

Dancing Queen: I LOVE THIS SONG. Santana and Mercedes always sound amazing together when they sing, and this song just blows my mind. It’s such a nice and happy way to end this episode, and it always brings a little tear to my eye watching everyone dance interspersed with the pictures.

Final Thoughts: I remember watching this episode for the first time and feeling trepidation. I knew what was going to happen, everyone did (does anyone else remember the spoiler being tweeted, followed by Brad Falchuk literally tweeting that that girl would never work in Hollywood again? No wonder all of his characters were so fucking extra lmao). I didn’t want it to happen, and I was worried about how it would go down. By the time the episode was done, though, I was in love. For a long time I didn’t even re-watch Glee – I just re-watched this episode on an almost constant loop. I just… I really love this episode, okay?

[kurtty-drabbles]

House of M

I´m still writing House of M...baby steps. I got Netflix yesterday and wow I´m late for this party. Anyway, I start the sketch of the chapter 5. Kurt, you´re so whipped.

[djinmer4]

School Mermaid (X-Men)

Mermaid, mermaid I beg of you Make my love come true Give for me your flesh and blood

Amanda stared out over the school field.  In one hand she held an aluminum baseball bat.  In the other, a sharp cleaver.  She looked right, then left.  “Nothing’s coming out.  I guess it really was a hoax.”  A flash caught her eye and she looked up.  There she saw hundreds of girls, all lined up in blue swimsuits, with letters on their front.  “Are these the mermaids?” she asked herself.  “They look like real people.”  She took a step forward and the girls scattered.  Some dove up into the air, a few vanished into the school.  Others landed on the grass, darting forward then running away as she reached out.  Many of them lounged around the windows, sliding in and out of the walls as if they were water.  

“These must be the mermaids,” Amanda decided, checking the ragged journal.  “W, there must be a W mermaid.”  But they were so fast.  She couldn’t get close enough to get one.  Amanda shoved the book back in her satchel.  She had all night to catch a mermaid.  There was no way she could fail.

It all started from a conversation she overheard at lunch.  The Brotherhood boys and the Institute guys had gotten into a fight again.  Both sides had gotten suspended.  Amanda didn’t know what it was about but she did know that the girls from both sides hadn’t participated and had ganged up against the boys.  They ended up sitting together, commiserating on how stupid their male classmates were.

About halfway through the suspension, Kitty Pryde had shown up with a beat-up, old notebook.  “Hey gals, check this out!  This book has a spell in it that will make the boy you like fall in love with you.”

“Kitty, that’s an obvious hoax.” Jubilee dismissed her claim out of hand.

“Nuh-uh.  It’s got a lot of notes from girls who have used the spell over the years.  Take a look.”  The younger student had plopped it down on the table and the rest had leaned forward to take a look.

“Mermaids?  How’s that going to work?” asked Amara.  “There’s no pool here at the school.”

Tabby had pointed to something else.  “They look like people?  That’s disgusting!  I wouldn’t want to eat a person just to make someone fall in love with me.”  The blonde leaned back and fluffed her hair, showing off her assets to their fullest.  “I’d rather win them over the natural way.”

“Sure, but what if you’re going against Ms. Perfect Jean Grey?” muttered Rogue.  “Then you need all the help you can get.”

“Yeah, that’s why I waited until I knew she’d be busy to show this to you,” said Kitty.  “Whatever happens, we can’t tell Jean about this.  She’ll just burn the book without even thinking about it.”

The girls continued to probe the notebook.  “They look like humans.  But their not; they can swim anywhere.  Well, that’ll make them hard to catch,” said Wanda.

“You turn into a mermaid and join them if you can’t eat one by morning?”  Amara pushed the book away from her towards Rogue.  “No way!  I don’t want to be eaten by someone!”

At the end of the lunch period, Kitty had offered it to the others.  “So does anyone want to try the spell?”

Jubilee shook her head.  “I think it’s still a hoax.”

“After all the weird things we’ve seen, this is where you draw the line?”  Wanda arched an eyebrow at the younger girl.  “I don’t think it’s any stranger than anything else we’ve witnessed.”  Amanda wondered about that statement.

“Wanda?”  Kitty offered her the notebook next.

“Nah, I’ve got better things to do with my time than worry about a boyfriend.  Besides, who would I use it on?”

“Evan, maybe?”  The black-haired Goth shook her head.  “Amara?”

“Not for me!  The whole thing’s too scary!”

“Tabby?”

“I told you, I prefer my conquests to be natural.  Much more meaningful that way.”

“Rogue?  Like you said, it will level the playing field between you and Jean.”

The other Goth put her hand out, then drew back.  “Nah.  I’ll wait until I have better control.  No point in fallin’ in love with a guy if you can’t do anything with him.  Kitty, why don’t you use it?  Maybe it’ll get Lance to stop playing around and commit.”

Kitty’s voice was cool.  “Lance and I are over for good this time.  Maybe in the future . . . but right now I just don’t want to be in any relationship.”

The discussion had continued from there but the conclusion had been that none of them needed the book right now so Kitty would keep it in her gym locker.

After that, it had been simple enough.  Amanda had gone to the gym during the last period on Friday and stolen the journal.  Unlike the regular lockers, the gym ones were only a small wire basket, with a combo lock holding them in place.  It was easy for someone with slim hands to reach in and steal something as thin as the journal.  Amanda had spent a few hours reading and re-reading the notes inside.  She’d briefly considered waiting until one of the Brotherhood or Institute girls had tried the spell, then she remembered.  Pryde, Smith, Lensherr, D’Acanto, Lee, and Aquilla.  None of them had the right surname for what she wanted.  So she grabbed some knives from the kitchen, the aluminum bat from her garage and made her way to the school that same evening.

But it was so hard to catch a mermaid!  They were so fast and kept running away and even when she had one cornered, it would slip through the walls.  She’d been really confident she could do it when she started but now time was running out.

As she ran through the corridors she heard some other people at the front door.  “Hey, what gives?  The windows have been smashed and the door’s unlocked already.”  Was that Kurt Wagner?

“Someone else must also be sneaking in.  Come on, we don’t want to be caught either!”  And that was certainly Kitty Pryde.  Amanda gritted her teeth.  Had the Jewish girl also come to work the spell?  Well, Amanda wouldn’t let her win.

As she ran through the corridor though, she ended up stepping on the broken glass, which alerted the other two to her presence.  Kurt and Kitty whirled around, the glare from their flashlights blinding her.  “Amanda?” asked Kurt.  “What are you doing here?”

The euphoria of her crush knowing her name was tempered by Kitty’s whispered, “Who is she?”  Was she so unimportant her rival didn’t even know who she was?

“Amanda Sefton,” Kurt whispered back.  “She’s in some of our classes.”

“I won’t let you win!”  Amanda pointed the knife in Kitty’s direction.

“What?”  Kurt stepped in front of the younger girl.  He had a weird outfit on, some sort of black and red leotard.

“The journal.  That’s what you’re here for, right?”

“Yes, wait, you have it?  I thought I lost it in gym class!”  Kitty pushed the older boy to the side.  “Amanda, did you chant the spell inside it?  Are you chasing mermaids right now?”

“Yes!”  A W mermaid passed between the two parties, causing Amanda to take a swipe at it.  She missed but hit Kurt’s watch from where he had placed his hand to guard Kitty.  The watch made a sizzling sound and something strange happened then.  As she watched, the pale skin and dark eyes she was used to flickered like static and disappeared.  Instead, in Kurt’s place stood a person with indigo fur, pointed ears, fangs, and yellow eyes.  A tail flickered out behind him.  But his features were the same and Kitty wasn’t reacting at all.  “What-what was that?”

“Never mind that!  Amanda, have you caught a mermaid yet?  Have you eaten its flesh?”  Ignored by the two girls, Kurt murmured, “Mermaids?”

“No, I haven’t.  They’re too fast for me.”

“Then try harder!  Dawn’s nearly here and if you don’t-”

“I know!”  She made another swipe at a mermaid, this time not bothering to check its letter.  But the sky was lightening and as the sun broke over the horizon she felt herself grabbed and stripped of clothing.  Even as she tried to say something to the other two, all that came out was a shrill “Skwee!”  Then everything went black.

Kurt stared at the spot where his classmate had just dissolved away.  “What just happened?”

“Oh no.”  Kitty dived down and picked up a book that had been left behind when Amanda had disappeared, along with way too many knives for him to be comfortable with and an aluminum baseball bat.  “Kitty, was that what you were looking for?”

“Yes.  I guess Jean might have a point, this thing really is dangerous.”

“That’s what caused Amanda to disappear?”  He felt faint.  His tail whipped out and smacked the book out of her hand.  “Don’t touch it!”

“Not like that!  It’s alright, as long as you don’t chant the spell inside, you’re safe.”

“Still . . . “  Kitty tucked the book away and grabbed the rest of the fallen equipment.  “Come on, let’s get out of here before the alarms go off.”  Kurt grabbed her hand and teleported back to the mansion.  He’d let it go for now, but he was going to get to the bottom of this eventually.

[lilyvandersteen]

Puppy Eyes Chapter 5

I procrastinated writing this chapter, so it's not completely betaed yet. Thank you @hkvoyage for your lightning-fast review of the first part! I'll try to have the next chapter ready faster...

This chapter is again from Kurt's point of view. Enjoy!

This story is also on AO3 and on Fanfiction.net.

The other parts can be found here: Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 5: Trying New Things

April to September 2012

On Monday, during class, Professor Anderson seemed as cheerful as ever, but Kurt noticed that his smile never reached his eyes, and that every now and then, he seemed to drift off into a daydream.

Kurt was determined to get to the bottom of it, so the next day, after his morning class, he went to see the professor during his consulting hours, and was please to elicit a real smile from the man when he noticed who had come in.

“Kurt! How can I help you?”

Kurt, who’d been struggling to make something of a series of tragically underexposed photographs for the jewellery section on the Vogue website, confided his woes to Professor Anderson, who looked at the photographs on Kurt’s laptop and grimaced.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to work miracles. I can make them look slightly better, but they will still be too dark and too grainy.”

Kurt sighed. “I thought you’d say that. Well, it can’t be helped. I’ll ask Isabelle if they can be re-shot. Thank you anyway, Professor.”

Then, as he stood up, he looked the professor straight in the eye and asked, “By the way, is everything all right? I saw you on Saturday in the park, and you looked…”

Professor Anderson looked surprised for a second, and then touched. “I’m fine, Kurt, thanks for your concern. I was just sad because my roommate was moving out over the weekend.”

“Oh, right,” Kurt commiserated. “Finding a new roommate is always a hassle. And you never know what they’re like until you’ve lived with them for a good while. Rachel’s boyfriend lived with us for a few months, and he tended to walk around our loft naked. Now, I can appreciate a good-looking guy with the best of them, but there are some things I don’t need to see before I’ve had my coffee in the morning.”

Professor Anderson chuckled. “I can imagine. The thing is, I’ve never lived with anybody else but Trent. Well, except when I was in boarding school. And we’ve lived together for a long time, so I’m really going to miss him. But I get that Trent would rather live with his boyfriend than with me. That’s only normal.”

Kurt hummed in understanding. “True. At least he has the courtesy of moving out. Rachel just invited Brody to come live with us, without even consulting me! One morning, he was there, and he never left again. Well, until they broke up because she found out he worked as an escort, but that’s a story for another time.”

Professor Anderson raised his eyebrows, and Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes as dramatically as he could. “Don’t even ask.”

That earned him another chuckle, and a warm smile that crinkled the professor’s eyes. “I won’t. Thanks for cheering me up, Kurt.”

Kurt beamed. “Any time.”

He slipped out of the office, humming under his breath, happy in spite of the extra work it would take to arrange a new photoshoot for the jewellery.

A giggle startled him, and when he looked for the source of that sound, he saw Maizie lounging against the wall in front of Professor Anderson’s office.

“Look who’s on top of the world again,” Maizie singsonged, threading her arm through Kurt’s and falling into step with him. “Crush back in full force, is it?”

Kurt shrugged and grinned at her. “It never left. I tried, but, no such luck. Seems like you can’t help who you crush on, so I figured, what’s the harm, as long as I’m not being creepy about it?”

“Hmm, true,” Maizie agreed.

“What were you doing here anyway?” Kurt asked.

“I had something to ask Professor Scher about our final. When I saw you, I thought I’d wait for you so we could have lunch together.”

Kurt licked his lips. “At your sister’s diner?”

“Yep. Lemon cheesecake today for dessert.”

Kurt’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds amazing! Only… I was going to eat with Elliott and Neil, in fact. Can they come too?”

“Sure, honey. Violet and Marissa are coming too, ‘cause we have a group project to wrap up.”

“Same,” Kurt sighed, whipping his phone out to text Elliott and Neil about the change of plans. “I hate the end-of-school-year crunch. Will your sister mind if we hog the table after dinner to work on our projects?”

Maizie laughed. “Nah, Suzie’s cool. She says she’d rather keep an eye on me to make sure I actually do my school work.”

At the diner, the teasing continued. All of Kurt’s friends, even the ones not taking any graphic design classes, knew about his humongous crush on Professor Anderson by now, and it had become a running gag.

Kurt just shrugged it off good-naturedly, enjoying the novelty that to none of them, his being gay was even a factor. No-one sneered at him or told him he was an abomination, or that he would go to hell, or that he had better stay away from other men, or else! No, they just poked fun at him and suggested silly ways for him to show the professor how much he loved him, or to ask him out, or to get him to kiss Kurt, cracking each other up until he rolled his eyes and reminded them they had a project to work on.

K&B

Kurt found himself stifling yawns all week long. He had so many essays and projects to finish and so much studying to do now that the school year was almost at its end, and coupled with his internship at Vogue and his dog-walking, it was a bit too much. If only he could get into bed and sleep for a week, but that wasn’t an option. Well, he was young, he was fit and healthy, and he was thriving both at school and at work, so a few weeks of constant exhaustion wasn’t going to kill him. He’d already decided to go to Ohio for a month in summer, though, to see his dad and to get some much needed rest.

Kurt had enrolled for the first summer class, in June, and he’d contacted the R/GA design agency about the paid internship they’d offered. He’d be starting there in August. He hadn’t had the time to visit the company premises yet, but he’d talked to the HR department on the phone and had a good feeling about this internship. He had loved working with Isabelle at Vogue, but it hadn’t paid the bills, nor had he learned as many marketable skills as R/GA had on offer.

Burt was fully on board with Kurt taking graphic design on as a minor. “You’ve shown that you can do it, winning that competition and all. And you say you like it. So why not? Now’s the time to learn as much as you can, in all sorts of fields, kiddo. Once you have a job, and maybe a family, you won’t have the time. So go ahead and take those classes. You’ll do great.”

So, as Kurt worked for his finals, he was already looking forward to new graphic design classes, and he decided not to torture himself and to just enjoy his friendship with Professor Anderson without feeling any qualms about it. The professor was right, they weren’t doing anything wrong. Kurt had a crush, yes, but he didn’t act on it, and he never would. He promised himself not to go out of his way to visit the professor during his consultation hours, but once in a while would do no harm.

Feeling so much lighter now that he’d absolved himself of guilt, he breezed through his finals, and before he knew it, June was upon him, and he was wheeling his suitcase into the apartment of a rich businesswoman. She was travelling to Hong Kong for a month, but needed someone to look after her two Dalmatians. They came with a whole set of instructions, and Kurt’s new client cross-examined him thoroughly, but Kurt fielded the woman’s questions to her satisfaction and promised to keep her updated by sending her pictures of the dogs. At long last, she click-clacked off to the elevator with a suitcase of her own.

The summer course he was taking dealt with Colour Theory, and was taught by Professor Anderson, who seemed genuinely glad to be teaching Kurt again, and came to chat with him after class of his own accord, discussing summer plans and Kurt’s internship at R/GA. “Paula knows someone at R/GA. You should talk to her and get his name. Maybe he could take you under his wing?”

Kurt promised he’d look into it, and then told the professor that he was dog-sitting now instead of dog-walking, and that he still didn’t know his new neighbourhood well enough to find all the good spots to buy coffee and food. Professor Anderson proved to live in the same area, and was happy to help. “And you have to try the Esterhazy cake at Coffee Clock, it’s SO good.”

The professor turned around when another student cleared her throat to catch his attention. “Yes, Anna, did you have a question for me?”

Kurt smiled at the professor and slunk away. Yes, starting to talk to him again had been the right decision. As long as he didn’t expect more to come of it, he could have this, and enjoy it.

July in Ohio passed more quickly than Kurt would have liked. Though he didn’t have much love to spare for Lima, Ohio, and its narrow-minded inhabitants, he loved seeing his father and Carole again, helping out his dad with car check-ups and repairs, going shopping in the mall, though NYC had far better shops, and going for coffee at the Lima Bean.

Mercedes happened to be visiting her family too at the end of July, and Kurt enjoyed catching up with her. Her first album was quite successful, and she’d be touring the rest of the summer. She told Kurt about the guy she was seeing and showed him pictures. His nickname was Tank, and it was obvious why: he was a solid wall of muscle. In every photograph, he was glaring, but Mercedes swore up and down that he was sweet and gentle and respected her boundaries, so Kurt squashed down his concerns and was happy for her.

He told her about his crush on his professor, and Mercedes sighed and rolled her eyes. “Even in New York City, you fall for the guys you can’t have, do you? All right, all right, tell me all about him. I bet he’s dreamy.”

Yes, his month at home offered him everything he needed: rest, good food and companionship. Elliott sent him picture after picture of sights he’d seen and things he’d done on vacation in Peru, but Kurt wasn’t jealous. Not even a little. He liked his summer holidays uneventful. A slice of home was all he needed to be happy.

Really, the only memorable thing that happened during his vacation was when he and Mercedes went to see a musical in Westerville one night, and right before the intermission, a woman stood up, blocking their view, and led a DOG out of the theatre. Who on earth would take their dog to a musical? Kurt and Mercedes had a good laugh about that.

It wasn’t until Kurt was in bed, later that night, that it occurred to him the dog had been quite similar to Devon. While it had been relaxing not to have to get up at the crack of dawn every morning, he’d be glad to be back in New York soon, and to have dogs to look after again.

He already had a new address where he’d be house-sitting and dog-sitting in August and September. This time, there was only one black Labrador to look after, who apparently loved to play with other dogs, so Kurt had told the agency that he could walk a few others too. The Dalmatians he’d taken care of in June had not enjoyed the company of other dogs. Like with Precious, it made them anxious, so Kurt had taken them to quiet places where only the occasional jogger came. Kurt had liked them, but looked forward to getting to play with several dogs again.

K&B

A week later, Kurt was jogging up the subway stairs like he’d never left New York. He had a meeting at R/GA to further discuss his internship and to sign the papers, and he couldn’t wait to start working there.

The HR rep – “Call me Ellie” – took him on a tour through the building and explained what all the people were doing. “And here’s the PR department, who make sure people hear about us and want to work with us – that’s André over there, Sandra, Bonnie and Sebastian.”

The guy called Sebastian turned around on his desk chair and gave Kurt a once-over. “So you’re Paula’s new protégé, are you?”

He pronounced protégé with a French accent, and Kurt almost swooned because that sounded so suave, barely managing to nod.

“Hmm, not very chatty, huh?” Sebastian continued. “I bet you’re a loud one in bed, though. All moans and screams.”

Kurt felt his cheeks heat up.

“Sebastian!” Ellie admonished him. “That’s very inappropriate!”

Sebastian waved that off. “Yeah, yeah, I need to remember I’m in America and you’re all terrible prudes, bla, bla, bla.”

Ellie stood her ground. “It’s not about being a prude, it’s about not making unwanted advances at work. You’ve had warnings before, Sebastian. If you want to pick up a new guy every night, go to a club. Don’t come on to people at work. They’re off limits to you. Especially interns. Do I need to remind you of Chandler?”

“Unwanted advances? Chandler wanted my attention,” Sebastian drawled. “He wanted it very much. And judging from this one’s blush, he wouldn’t say no either.”

Ellie glared at him. “Off. Limits. Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sebastian said. “Hey, New Intern, is that yummy Anderson still teaching at Parsons? Curly hair, glasses and an ass that won’t quit.”

“Sebastian!” Elle warned him.

“What? That was just a question for information!”

Kurt cleared his throat, and Sebastian’s gaze swivelled towards him again. “Yes, Professor Anderson is still at Parsons.”

Sebastian smirked. “Maybe I should come and give a presentation about R/GA again. I’ll talk to Paula about it.”

The gleam in his eyes was predatory, and now that it was meant for Professor Anderson and not Kurt himself, it made Kurt angry instead of shy.

Who did that guy think he was, gobbling men up and then spitting them back out? Who would even fall for that spiel? But then Kurt remembered Sebastian’s French accent, and imagined him speaking whole sentences in those lilting, caressing tones. Okay, yes, that would help. He was still pretty sure that Professor Anderson wouldn’t fall for someone that sleazy. He wouldn’t, would he?

K&B

Kurt settled in his new routine faster than he’d thought possible. Now that he limited himself to three dog walks a day, and only dogs that lived in the neighbourhood where he was staying, that opened up his schedule for his internship and the extra classes he was taking.

He was learning a lot at R/GA. They had newer and better computer programmes and drawing pads, and Kurt loved trying out all the features. The designers whose team he’d joined were creative and driven, and enjoyed teaming up with Kurt for an assignment, praising his innovative ideas.

One of them, Joanne, had poor eyesight, to the point of being nearly blind. She showed him the magnifying software and hardware she used to be able to see everything properly.

They designed a website together, and she taught him all about making his designs inclusive, not just for users with low vision, but also for people who happened to be deaf, dyslexic, autistic or had physical disabilities. Basically, the trick was to make the lay-out logical and linear, to use a clear colour contrast throughout, to keep the content short, simple and to the point, and to provide audio and video and images for whoever needed that, as well as shortcuts for forms that needed to be filled in.

Kurt filed all that away for an essay he had to write for his Graphic Design History class on the topic of social change. Making websites more accessible for people with a disability was definitely a change he was in favour of.

Yes, all in all, he was very pleased with this new road he had taken. Though the graphic design classes added considerably to his workload, he thrived in them, and he found that they helped him improve his fashion designs as well. He took to designing his own fabrics and having them printed, and he pared down the structure of his garments to the bare essentials, but impeccably made, and always with his very own twist.

Professor Scher and Professor Anderson continued to encourage and stimulate him in class, and Professor Scher regularly wanted to discuss his work at R/GA and what he learnt there. “If we’re falling behind here, Kurt, you need to tell me. This programme is supposed to get students ready to work as a designer for one of the big companies. If there’s new software they have to master or new guidelines they have to follow, you must tell me, so that we can adapt the programme. Okay?”

So when Professor Scher stopped him in the hallway one day by putting a hand on his arm, Kurt thought it would be for another chat about his internship. But she whispered, low and urgent, “Come with me.”

Kurt, a bit puzzled now, followed her. She led him to Professor Anderson’s office, where instead of the professor himself, a dog sat on the desk chair.

And it was a dog Kurt recognised. “Devon! Devon, is that really you?”

Devon jumped off the chair in a fluid movement and raced towards Kurt, who squatted down to hug and pet him.

“You know this dog?” Professor Scher asked.

“Yes, yes, I do,” Kurt said. “I’ve looked after him several times. But I swear I didn’t bring him here as a prank or something. I wouldn’t, I swear.”

Professor Scher laughed. “Calm down, Kurt. You’re not in trouble. I know you. You’re far too busy to be playing pranks on anyone. I just brought you here because I know you’re a dog walker and you might be able to help. Could you take this dog back to his house?”

“His apartment,” Kurt corrected, checking his key-chain. Yes, the Devon key was still on there. “Yes, Professor, I’ll bring him home. No problem. My classes are done for the day anyway.”

Kurt rummaged in his backpack for a spare collar and a leash, and put them on Devon, whose tail was wagging so hard his whole backside moved to and fro.

“Ready, champ?” Kurt said, and Devon trotted off immediately.

Kurt turned his head towards Professor Scher. “Bye!”

She grinned at him and waved. “See you in class tomorrow!”

K&B

Devon tugged Kurt in the direction of the park, so Kurt, figuring that the dog needed to relieve himself, brought him there, and played with him for a while, too.

Then Kurt headed to the apartment where the dog lived, but as soon as they reached the building, Devon started to whimper, and when Kurt opened the door and ushered Devon in, the dog full-out whined and refused to go in.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Kurt asked. “Why won’t you go in? I guess nobody’s home, but there never was anyone home last time I looked after you either. Did you run out of food, or water, is that it?”

Kurt went inside, followed by a whimpering Devon. He checked all the rooms, but didn’t find any dog dishes or dog food anywhere, and the fridge was empty except for some left-over Chinese food that looked mouldy. The whole place looked deserted. The beds made, no dirty dishes or laundry anywhere, nothing to suggest anyone had been there recently.

Kurt sighed. “I guess your owner went on vacation and forgot all about you, huh? Or maybe something happened to him? Well, I can take you home with me, just for tonight, but I’m only dog-sitting that place for two more days, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with you after Carla’s owner comes back home. You’ll be nice to Carla, won’t you? She’s a black Lab, and she’s very friendly. I think you’ll like her.”

Kurt led Devon out of the apartment again, the dog cheering up as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“Did you jump out of a window onto the fire escape?” Kurt asked Devon, squatting down again to pet him. “You must have escaped somehow. And you came to my school to find me? You clever boy, you!”

Devon let his tongue hang out of his mouth, the very picture of contentment.

K&B

Later that evening, Kurt was at the park with Devon and Carla when his phone rang. It was the dog agency.

“So we have a new assignment for you,” Sheila said. “Devon needs a dog-sitter for a week, starting tonight. The black Portie, you’ve looked after him before. And I know you’re still with Carla ‘till the end of the month, but I was hoping you wouldn’t mind checking up on Devon and walking him three times a day until then? You’d be paid for it as though you were dog-sitting him.”

Kurt exhaled slowly. So Devon’s owner hadn’t forgotten about him, had he? Should he mention anything to Sheila?

“Kurt? Is three walks too demanding with your current school schedule?” Sheila asked.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Kurt answered. “I was just… Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

“You will? Fantastic, you’re a lifesaver!”

Sheila hung up, leaving Kurt staring at his phone, thinking hard. Well, tonight and tomorrow were no problem. Devon could stay with Kurt and Carla. But the last day of September, Carla’s owner was coming back, and he wouldn’t be pleased to find another dog in his home. So Kurt would either have to leave Devon at his apartment, or if that upset him too much, take him along to school and to R/GA.

Kurt pocketed his phone and looked up. Carla was running around chasing a squirrel, barking happily, but Devon was sitting on his haunches right in front of Kurt, looking way too serious for a dog. Was he worried Kurt would abandon him, too?

“Come,” said Kurt, and he sat down on the grass, pulling the Portie half on his lap. He petted Devon’s neck and caressed him behind his ears until the dog let out a deep sigh and all the tension left his body.

“You’re staying with me and Carla for the next two nights,” Kurt announced. “And then I’m coming to live at your place for the rest of the week. The dog agency called. Your owner paid for a week of dog-sitting. You will be alone during the day, though, ‘cause I have school and work, but that’s not me saying goodbye to you, okay? I would never do that. I promise you I will always come back and look after you, as long as you need me.”

Devon nuzzled Kurt’s hand to demand more petting, and sighed again, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Kurt laughed. “I take it you’re okay with that? All right, then, let’s get home and to bed. Carla? Carla, come here, girl!”

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot: “Fair Play” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Blaine has a crush on the head cheerleader from another school, so he does something kind of desperate to get his attention. Will pretending to be team captain for one game work out the way he hopes it will? (3244 words)

Notes: Okay, I'll admit I cheated on this one. It's another re-write. My brain is Swiss cheese, and it's been very difficult for me to think. But aside from that, as a person who has lived in the shadow of an older sibling who was always a few grades ahead of me, I have always been intrigued by the possibility of this dynamic between Blaine and Cooper. Plus, I love this story line. So, I hope you enjoy it. Dalton Blaine Anderson/Cheerio Kurt Hummel

Read on AO3.

“Please, Cooper?” Blaine begged, bearing down on his brother as the older boy tried to avoid him. “It’s just this one game.”

“I said no, Blaine!” Cooper veered toward the parking lot in hopes of losing his annoying sibling amidst the rows of cars. “You just made varsity this summer. You don’t have the stones to play team captain, even for one game!”

“It’s a scrimmage! No big deal!” Blaine whined, keeping pace with Cooper from one aisle of cars over. “Carter did it last year when his folks came down from Michigan!”

“They were getting a divorce.”

“Wes did it! And Jensen did it the year before that! It’s practically a Dalton tradition!”

Cooper shook his head in defiance, but Blaine was right. Hell, Cooper had tried it his sophomore year, trying to impress a girl from Crawford Country Day. The majority of boys who try to front as team captain do it to impress a girl. No harm in that. But Cooper swore as team captain he wouldn’t cave to ridiculous requests, and this one was about as ridiculous as they got.

“Why would you want to pretend to be captain of the lacrosse team for a lousy scrimmage anyway? There’s probably only going to be twelves of people in the stands. Leading the team to victory for this one? It’s not like it’s going to make you a lacrosse God or something.”

“I … have my reasons,” Blaine replied, his voice dropping.

“And I haven’t heard any of them. I mean, come on! You want me to go against one of my principle tenets of leadership and you won’t even tell me why? That’s not right, Squirt. We may be brothers, but we’re also teammates. And I thought we were friends.”

“We … we are friends! Coop, I …” Blaine cut himself off, waiting until he’d caught up with Cooper so he wouldn’t have to yell across the cars when he told him his secret. “It’s because … we’re playing against McKinley.”

“Yeah? So? They’ve only had a lacrosse team for about three years, and they suck. They suck hard. Why would you even want to …?” Cooper stopped short, a devilish grin overtaking his entire face. “Oh, I know what this is about!” He turned on his brother, jabbing his index finger accusingly at his chest. “It’s their head cheerleader, isn’t it? That guy … uh … Kevin! No, not Kevin. Kirk!”

“Kurt,” Blaine corrected, his voice going dreamy as he sighed the name. Cooper rolled his eyes. Oh God. It seemed that puberty had finally caught up to his little brother. It wouldn’t be any skin off Cooper’s nose to let Blaine do it. The odds of anyone in the stands knowing the difference was negligible at best. But he deliberated, searching his brain for a reason to say no. Blaine was his baby brother, after all. Cooper couldn’t let the guys on the team think he was doing him special favors because he was family.

But then Cooper realized, he couldn’t care less either way.

Let Blaine try to woo his cheerleader. Win or lose, this could be amusing to watch.

“Fine.” Cooper grabbed the shoulder of Blaine’s jersey and led his starry-eyed brother to the field. “But you know you’re going to owe me. Big time. This is my reputation on the line here.”

“It’s a scrimmage,” Blaine huffed, “against the worst team in the high school league. I would say that you owe me.”

Blaine followed Cooper to the Dalton side of the field. Spectators had started filling the stands, but huge gaps took up more space than actual bodies. Cooper was right. Barely anyone came to scrimmages, and the ones who did were killing time till later when the after parties would get underway.

Cooper motioned to the boys warming up and running drills on the grass. “Fall in, guys. Come on. Fall in, fall in,” he said, bringing his team in for a huddle. “Alright, gentlemen, we’re going to be changing things up for today’s scrimmage. In the grand tradition of Dalton boys who've ever wanted to bang an away team cheerleader, Blainey here” – Cooper put heavy hands on his brother’s shoulders and shook him like a rag doll – “will be taking over as team captain. Let’s try and make him look good. If he manages to get himself laid, drinks are on him.”

One boy bitched about nepotism being expressly against the Dalton Academy charter, but the rest of the team hollered, clapping Blaine on the shoulder and making suggestive remarks about the inadequacy of his ball and stick handling as they retreated to the locker rooms to suit up. They passed through the parking lot as the McKinley buses rolled onto the asphalt. Blaine dropped back, walking slowly and peeking over the cars to see if he could catch a glimpse of the cheerleaders’ bus. It was a long shot that the varsity cheerleaders would even be there. Sometimes only the JV cheerleaders accompanied the lacrosse team on away games.

The varsity Cheerios were National Champions, and the McKinley lacrosse team was that bad.

No need to send rock stars to cheer on a sinking ship.

The guys caught Blaine lagging and grabbed him. They surrounded him, dragging him through the parking lot, not giving him a chance for any further investigation.

“You … you jerks!” Blaine grunted, trying to pull away, but four boys had him, one on each limb, and that was enough to subdue him.

“Calm your tits, Anderson,” one of the seniors said. “Your cheerleader’s here.”

After that, Blaine gave up the struggle. That was all he needed to hear.

***

When the Dalton team came back out onto the field, geared up and ready to play, the McKinley team was already there, gathered in a huddle, talking over their plays. The cheerleaders had assembled on the sidelines, some of them stretching, some practicing cheers. In the middle, helping a junior cheerleader thread red and white ribbon curls into her high pony, stood Kurt. He looked as miraculous in his formfitting uniform today as he did the first time Blaine saw him, at their first Dalton/McKinley scrimmage, which took place at McKinley High last season. Ever since then, Blaine’s had been a long distance infatuation. He followed the cheerleading blogs, signed up for a fake student account on the McKinley website so he could view the team’s student access only webpage, and went to every cheerleading competition he could in order to cheer Kurt on. Blaine stalked Kurt on every form of social media, sending him anonymous messages on Tumblr and poking him on Facebook. And when Kurt’s boyfriend of two years broke up with him, Blaine ‘liked’ his Facebook status and silently cheered, hoping that this was the year he might get his chance.

Blaine had to come up with a gesture, something big to win Kurt over, but first, he had to make sure that Kurt knew he was alive. Being team captain was part one of that master plan. (There wasn’t really a part two. After Cooper’s initial ‘being a member of the Dalton lacrosse team is an honor and a privilege’ speech, where he outlined that under no circumstances would any player be receiving preferential treatment no matter who they were or how well they played, Blaine didn’t think he’d get this far.)

But it didn’t matter, since it didn’t seem to be doing the trick. Even when the Dalton team took to the field and the announcer went through the team roster, mentioning that Blaine would take the place of team captain for the scrimmage, Kurt barely looked his way, deeply embroiled in a discussion with two other cheerleaders over the correct way to land a round off-whip-double back handspring-layout, a move that Kurt demonstrated so effortlessly, so flawlessly, Blaine couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

Blaine didn’t know how much Kurt was paying attention during the actual game, but the opposing team figured out fairly early on that Blaine was distracted, and he became their main target - a critical failing of McKinley’s team. But the majority of their lacrosse team was made up of football players after McKinley’s ‘acting principal’ disbanded the football team in order to redistribute football funds to the cheerleading squad. No one knew the whole story. Most people assumed it was a joke. Regardless, the Dalton team readjusted their strategy, and it eventually worked to their advantage.  

Blaine wanted to keep an eye on Kurt, to see if Kurt was watching him, or just to watch Kurt flip, which Blaine could do all day, but he had to keep his head in the game or he was going to make a bigger ass of himself than he had already. He only saw Kurt in snippets and side-glances, cheering for his team, one time performing a jump split that almost stopped Blaine in his tracks. The next time Blaine got a chance to look Kurt’s way, there was a guy standing beside him. Blaine didn’t know if Kurt knew the guy. He wasn’t wearing Dalton or McKinley colors. From what Blaine could tell, Kurt didn’t seem very comfortable around him. The boy introduced himself, and Kurt nodded politely. The boy talked to him, and Kurt took a few steps away. Then Kurt excused himself, going back to his bag for a water bottle, and while the other cheerleaders formed a pyramid, the boy grabbed Kurt. He put a hand over Kurt’s mouth and dragged him toward the bleachers. Dalton had control of the ball when Blaine saw, but whether they did or not, it only took him a second to decide what to do.

“Time out!” he screamed. “Time out! I’m calling a time out!”

“Dalton Academy has called for a time out,” the announcer said over the sound system, then continued to jabber on about how this was their first time out, what the score was, and yada-yada-yada. Blaine didn’t care. He’d stopped listening, zeroing in on the boy with his hands all over Kurt.

“Blaine!” he heard Cooper yell. “You can’t call a time out now!” but Blaine was already running across the grass towards the far bleachers.

The McKinley cheerleaders knew Blaine had a thing for Kurt. They’d been teasing Kurt about it for most of the game, which was why he had drifted away from the pack - to escape the persistent jokes for a while. When the giggling girls saw Blaine coming, face set as stone, eyes seething, they realized that Kurt wasn’t with them. They fanned out along the sidelines, looking for their missing captain. A brunette cheerleader found him and his attacker. She grabbed at the larger boy’s shoulders and shoved him. He stumbled forward, but didn’t let go. He had a firm hold on Kurt’s waist, and took Kurt down to the grass with him.

“Get off of me!” Kurt screamed, spinning around and getting in a right hook that made Blaine wince, both for the impact to the boy’s jaw and Kurt’s fist. “Let go of me!”

One of the other cheerleaders kicked the boy in the side while another tried to pry Kurt up, but the boy on the ground was too massive for any of it to be effective.

The people in the bleachers were too far away or too preoccupied to see the attack going on, but other players on the field began to take notice. One exceedingly tall boy (whom Blaine had heard referred to as ‘Frankenteen’ by one of his teammates) bellowed, “Kurt! Oh my God! Kurt!” from the field behind them.

“Hey! Butt wipe!” Blaine yelled, throwing down his stick. “Let him go!”

The boy on the ground looked past a fighting Kurt in his arms to Blaine standing over them and chuckled. “Or what, prep school?”

Blaine didn’t say. He simply walked up to the boy and planted his cleated heel into the boy’s crotch. The boy, wearing sweat pants, wailed in pain. He reached for his groin and Kurt took the opportunity to bolt from his arms.

“Or that,” Blaine said, more sadistic than smug, as he stood and waited for the boy to stand, or for an official, a coach, or a referee to come out and do something. Blaine could have left it at that. He could have walked Kurt away and let the officials take over, but then the boy on the ground sat up, and he had to open his big, dumb mouth.

“You can have the fucking slut,” he grumbled through gritted teeth. “He’s not worth it.”

That’s the moment when any shred of Blaine’s good judgment flew straight out the window and he slugged the boy in the nose with the force of seven years of boxing and three years of Dalton Fight Club behind it.

“Holy fuck!” the boy screamed, hands cupping his face, blood dribbling past his palms and down his chin.

Ironically, that’s when the adults took action. In about half-a-second after Blaine’s punch, the officials and the referees made a ruling.

“Acting team captain for Dalton Academy Blaine Anderson has been disqualified for un-sportsman-like behavior!”

The stadium roared, spectators from both sides who had witnessed the scuffle on their feet when the announcement was made. The McKinley cheerleaders rushed the officials’ box, both teams converged on the referees, everyone vying for a reversal of the call considering the circumstances. But Blaine knew it wouldn’t happen. He’d gone a step too far, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But he wasn’t going to apologize. No frickin’ way.

Blaine didn’t hear anything else. He didn’t look to see what was happening. He knew that Kurt was with his team and safe, and that was all that mattered. Aside from that, he didn’t want to be there anymore. He picked up his stick and walked off the sidelines, feeling the eyes of the school, the crowd, and Kurt, watch him go.

Blaine walked straight back to the locker room and started to undress. He packed his uniform in his gear bag, deciding he’d wait to take his shower at home. He didn’t want to stick around. He should probably just leave his gear there. He blew it this time. Not only did he not win the guy, he was going to get tossed from the team for sure.

And knowing his brother, he’d be hand-washing jock straps all weekend long to boot.

Somewhere between putting his sneakers on and starting to tighten them, he heard a throat cleared. He assumed it was Cooper, fresh off the field to mock him and tell him what for, rib him for throwing his high school lacrosse career away for a guy he didn’t even get. It would be dubbed ‘a classic Blaine maneuver’ from now on. Anyone who screwed up in anyway anyhow trying to get a date will be said to have pulled a Blaine.

And he had a whole year of hearing that to look forward to.

But Blaine didn’t have time to mope about that because he had bigger issues ahead. Without lacrosse, Blaine would have to search out other extracurriculars, like yearbook, or photography. Maybe stamp club was looking for a president, provided they were willing to have a loser of his caliber head their organization. But he needed something to pad his NYU application since lacrosse was off the table. The Warblers would be next after word got out. This isn’t a Warbler activity, but they have a morals clause. If he is caught displaying behavior unbefitting a Warbler at any time, he could be expelled.

Blaine had read the Warbler bylaws from cover to cover. Fighting was considered a one-strike offense.

He’d figure something out. He just didn’t want to figure it out now, and not with Cooper’s inevitable sarcastic excuse for help. Cooper was his only brother, so he should be sympathetic, but Blaine always got the feeling that Cooper thought he existed solely for his amusement.

“Look, Coop” - Blaine kept his head lowered as he tied his shoes so he wouldn’t have to see the I told you so grin on Cooper’s conceited face - “whatever you’re going to say, save it. I’m not in the mood for your crap.”

“I was going to say thank you.”

Blaine’s eyes snapped up. It wasn’t Cooper … thank God! Blaine smiled, surprised to see Kurt standing in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kurt said, stepping into the locker room. He had his red-and-white cheer duffle thrown over his shoulder, and he favored his right hand, which was wrapped in an Ace bandage. “I wanted to talk to you, but you left so quickly.”

“Being disqualified will do that to you.” Blaine tried to sound bitter but failed with this handsome cheerleader’s beautiful blue eyes gazing at him with admiration.

“They’re still discussing that, actually. The game’s a wash, but after all the people who rushed the field to vouch for you, you might get off with a warning.”

“Yeah?” Blaine felt relieved, not that helping Kurt wasn’t worth getting disqualified over. It totally was, but it was nice to know that so many people went to bat for him … which probably meant Cooper did, too.

Shoot. Now he owed him two.

“I just came by to … I wanted to … you know, thank you, for coming to my rescue.”

“You’re welcome.” Blaine let himself feel hopeful, but not too carried away. “But you don’t have to thank me. That guy was an ass. He got what he deserved.”

“And then some.” Kurt chuckled, thinking back on the boy lying in the grass with his hands over his nose, blood pouring out like a geyser.

“No.” Blaine stood and took a step up to Kurt with anger simmering behind his eyes. “No, he got exactly what he deserved. No less.”

Kurt bit his lower lip and nodded, taken back by Blaine’s conviction.

“Anyway,” Kurt said, “I thought that maybe since you forfeited a scrimmage to help me out, I might introduce myself. You know, properly.”

“Uh, sure. Okay.” Blaine held his right hand out for Kurt to shake, mildly uncomfortable now that the time had come for him to tell the truth. “I’m Blaine Anderson. I begged my brother Cooper to let me be captain for the scrimmage so that maybe you would notice me.”

“And it worked.” Kurt reached for Blaine’s hand, but at the sight of the bandage, he switched, shaking Blaine’s hand awkwardly with his left. “I’m Kurt Hummel. I spent the last hour or so watching you get your ass handed to you, and I wanted to know if maybe you’d consider getting coffee with me?”

“Don’t you have to go back with your bus?” Blaine asked, mentally kicking himself right after for not saying the words, “Yes! I’d love to!” instead.

“Well, I am head cheerleader,” Kurt said, rocking back and forth on nervous feet. “I can pretty much do whatever I want.”

Blaine liked the sound of that, since doing whatever he wanted might include dating a member of an opposing team.

“Yeah,” Blaine said, tossing the last of his stuff into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Good,” Kurt said, taking Blaine’s arm when he offered it. “I didn’t want to think you were stalking me on Facebook because you were some run-of-the-mill creeper.”

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

The Democrats have won the House, and Republicans will have to hand over the speaker’s gavel in January. But it’s not totally clear whom that gavel will go to.

The long-running drama over the fate of House Democratic Leader Nancy Pelosi is entering a new phase. It has been clear for months that Pelosi might not have enough Democrats behind her to become speaker. Some incumbent House Democrats oppose the California Democrat because they believe it’s time for a new figure to lead the party, which Pelosi has done since 2003. And dozens of Democratic candidates, facing a barrage of attacks from Republicans linking them to Pelosi, pledged during their campaigns not to support her in a speaker vote. Of course, many of Pelosi’s critics were running in very red districts — so they lost.

But Pelosi still has some work to do if she wants a second tenure as House speaker. With almost all the 435 House races decided, we did a whip count of the newly elected or re-elected Democrats. Here’s what we found: Pelosi does not appear to have 218 votes to become speaker, unless some Democrats backtrack from previous comments suggesting that they will not support her.

Before the election, NBC News and reporter Ally Mutnick of the National Journal put together lists of Democratic candidates who said they would not support Pelosi either for Democratic leader or for speaker if the Democrats took control of the House. Combining their research with ours, we identified at least 63 anti-Pelosi candidates — 21 of whom won their elections.1

Democratic-members elect who might not support Pelosi

As of 4:00 p.m. on Nov. 8

Candidate District Incumbent? Vote Margin Rashida Tlaib MI-13 D+73.2 Brian Higgins NY-26 ✓ D+47.1 Bill Pascrell NJ-9 ✓ D+40.9 Jim Cooper TN-5 ✓ D+35.7 Seth Moulton MA-6 ✓ D+34.6 Linda Sánchez CA-38 ✓ D+33.7 Ed Perlmutter CO-7 ✓ D+24.1 Kathleen Rice NY-4 ✓ D+22.1 Tim Ryan OH-13 ✓ D+21.6 Filemón Vela TX-34 ✓ D+19.5 Mikie Sherrill NJ-11 D+13.3 Kurt Schrader OR-5 ✓ D+13.1 Conor Lamb PA-17 ✓ D+12.4 Jahana Hayes CT-5 D+11.7 Jason Crow CO-6 D+10.0 Haley Stevens MI-11 D+6.7 Jeff Van Drew NJ-2 D+6.3 Max Rose NY-11 D+6.0 Elissa Slotkin MI-8 D+3.8 Abigail Spanberger VA-7 D+1.9 Joe Cunningham SC-1 D+1.4

Vote margins may change as results are tallied. Six candidates who said they would not vote for Pelosi are in races that are still too close to call, so this list may grow.

Sources: ABC News, NBC News, Ally Mutnick, other media reports

With a handful of races still unresolved, Democrats have won 224 seats2 — that number is likely to increase, but it’s hard to see them winning more than 235. Even at that high mark, Pelosi would be four votes short of 218 if the 21 Democrats followed through on their pledge not to support her. The anti-Pelosi faction includes 11 incumbents, some of whom have long been critical of her, like New York’s Kathleen Rice and Ohio’s Tim Ryan. The other 10 will be joining the House with the new class of members in January.

Of course, Pelosi could still become speaker even if she is a few votes short at the moment. And she’s probably the favorite. How would she get there? There are at least three pathways.

The most direct way for Pelosi to become speaker is that at least a few of these anti-Pelosi members backtrack on their campaign pledges. Could that happen? Maybe. Nine of the 21 anti-Pelosi candidates won by more than 20 percentage points. It’s unlikely that voters in fairly liberal-leaning areas will vote out their members in November 2020 over a pro-Pelosi vote in January 2019. Also, it’s not clear there is an obvious person with broad support to replace her, so other House Democrats might convince the anti-Pelosi wing that there is no real alternative.

And Pelosi could try to persuade her opponents to change their positions by either pledging to serve as speaker only through 2020 or picking a No. 2 whom the anti-Pelosi bloc likes.

This is easy to describe but probably difficult to execute. Many new members have no particular loyalty to Pelosi — and some incumbents, like Ryan, have openly frosty relationships with her. The anti-Pelosi faction could try to block her from becoming the Democrats’ designated candidate for speaker or just refuse to back her in January, forcing the party to pick someone else.

There’s a second, more complicated way for Pelosi to become speaker — her critics voting “present” rather than “no” in the House speaker election. Let’s walk through that, because it’s a bit complicated.

The first step in the speaker selection process is that each party has an internal vote to determine its candidate. This vote takes place behind closed doors, usually in late November or early December. (Newly elected members travel to Washington to participate in this process.) Then there is a formal vote in the House in January that typically pits a Democratic candidate against a Republican one. The winner is the new speaker.

Assuming for now that Pelosi makes it through the private vote to the January vote in the House, she will need a majority of those choosing between the two candidates (California’s Kevin McCarthy is the favorite to be the GOP choice). But that doesn’t mean she would need 218 votes (an outright majority of the House). If members vote “present,” it brings the threshold for a majority down.

So let’s say that after the election results are finalized, the House is made up of 230 Democrats and 205 Republicans and that the number of anti-Pelosi Democrats stays at 21. If all 21 vote “present” and the rest of the Democrats back her, she will win the speakership 209-205. But if Democrats don’t make it to 230 and end up with 228 seats or fewer, Pelosi won’t have the votes to win, even if the Democratic faction against her votes “present.” In that case, she’d need some Democrats to backtrack on their pledges to oppose her.

A third way for Pelosi to become speaker is for the anti-Pelosi Democrats to vote against her in the private party vote but for her in the floor vote. Since many of the candidates simply said they wouldn’t vote for Pelosi as “party leader,” they could claim to be keeping their campaign promise while still allowing Pelosi to become speaker of the whole House. After all, the speaker election would probably only have two viable candidates — Pelosi and McCarthy (or another Republican).

As you can see, there’s still a good deal of uncertainty about how the speaker vote will play out.

Let’s finish by saying clearly: Lots of gossipy stories about internal Washington machinations ultimately don’t matter. This one does. With Trump in the White House and Mitch McConnell in charge of an enlarged Republican majority in the Senate, the Democratic speaker will have a huge role in determining exactly when and how the party tries to constrain Trump, as well as how or if House Democrats try to work with him on major issues. The Democrats are also trying to come up with a strategy that will increase the chances that the party’s 2020 presidential candidate will win. And the Democrats in the House will have a fairly diverse group both demographically and ideologically. So the speaker has to satisfy not only liberals like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York but also moderates like Conor Lamb of Pennsylvania. None of this will be easy.

[littlej097]

Klaine Advent: Example

Summary: Kurt and Blaine’s daughter gets involved with some girls who are not setting the best example for her. 

Mornings were hectic for the Anderson-Hummels. With three teenagers trying to get ready for school at the same time, things often got crazy. “Guys! You better hurry. You’re going to be late.” Blaine yelled upstairs. He was frantically slapping together sandwiches and shoving them into brown paper bags. Kurt had long gone to work...some kind of button emergency at Vogue. Caleb, their fifteen year old son, came down first.

“Dad, can I have twenty dollars?” he asked.

“What do you need twenty dollars for?” Blaine asked, still frantically making sandwiches.

“The science club is getting t-shirts and I really want one.” the boy replied. Blaine, who was running out of time, whipped out his wallet and tossed it at his son.

“Here. Only twenty though.” he replied.

“Thanks Dad.” Caleb said, before going to the cabinet and grabbing a granola bar.

Blaine knew Caleb was a good kid. He was their low maintenance kid and didn’t often ask for things. His sisters on the other hand...they were another story. Penny came down next. She was frantically writing on a folder, obviously still trying to finish her homework. She sat the folder down and immediately went to the coffee pot and poured it into her travel mug.

“Pen, coffee is not breakfast.” Blaine scolded.

“I’m too nauseous.” the teen replied. “I have a huge physics test today and I’m so going to fail it.”

“Honey, you’ve studied for that test. You’ll do just fine.” Blaine told her as handed her a brown paper bag lunch. Penny had always been the overachiever. Her confidence level however didn’t match her skill level. He and Kurt tried to encourage her as much as they could, but ultimately Penny was her own worst enemy.

“Where the hell is Charlie? She’s going to make us late again!” Penny replied, as she fumbled through her backpack, looking for her car keys.

“Calm yourself down.” Charlie replied as she came down the stairs. “I’m ready.” Blaine took one look at his daughter and practically had a heartattack. She was wearing skin tight black jeans that had holes in the knees and a purple crop top that exposed a huge portion of her midriff. The worst thing however was the large diamond stud sticking out of her belly button.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Blaine asked, desperately trying to keep his cool.

“An outfit.” the fifteen year old replied.

“You better get your butt upstairs and change into something that covers you up. And, you better take that stud out of your belly button before your father sees it and has an aneurysm.”

“But Dad! This is cute and it’s what my friends are wearing!” Charlie screeched.

“I don’t give a damn what your friends are wearing. You are not going to school dressed like that. Now get your butt upstairs and change before you make yourself, and your brother and sister late for school.” “You suck! I hate you.” Charlie yelled before stomping upstairs. When she got there, there was a loud slam that the other three Anderson-Hummels assumed was her bedroom door. Blaine let out a long sigh. Charlie was the reason why he was already finding gray hairs on his head.

“She’s literally so dramatic. I’m surprised that she’s not biologically related to Aunt Rachel.” Caleb said quietly.

“And what’s that supposed to mean? I’m biologically related to Aunt Rachel.” Penny retorted.

“You know exactly what I mean. I don’t know how but somehow you turned out okay.” Caleb replied. Penny didn’t know whether or not to consider her brother’s comment a compliment or an insult. But right now, she didn’t really care. She had a physics test to take. She walked over to the bottom of the stairs.

“Charlie! Hurry up! You’re going to school not the Oscars!” Penny yelled.

“I’m coming.” Charlie replied. “I would have been ready if someone wasn’t so uptight.” she added, looking directly at Blaine.

“You are working on my last nerve, Charlie. If you’re not looking to get grounded, I would go and get in the car.” Blaine replied, gritting his teeth. The teenager rolled her eyes and began walking towards the front door. “Wait, is that my shirt?” Penny asked. “That is! Charlie what the hell??” She left the house while still continuing to yell at her sister.

“Well, this ought to be a fun car ride.” Caleb muttered as he picked up his backpack and followed after his sisters. After all three of the kids left, Blaine took a seat in the living room and let out a deep breath.

“These children are going to be the death of me…” he said to no one.

Later that day, Blaine called Kurt from the house. He really needed a break from the piece of music he was writing for his latest musical.

“Hello?” came Kurt’s voice. He sounded stressed.

“Hey honey,” Blaine said.

“Oh Blaine, it’s you.” Kurt replied. “What’s up?” “Just wanted to check in. Did the button emergency get resolved?” he asked.

“Yeah, we figured it out.” Kurt replied. “So how has your day been?”

“Great since the three monsters we call children left.” Blaine told him. “Your daughter is going to give me a heart attack.”

“Which one? And wait, why is she my daughter now that you’re clearly upset with her?” Kurt asked.

“Charlie.” Blaine replied. “She came downstairs dressed like a-a prostitute this morning. Also, did you know that she has her belly button pierced?”

“Her what?!?” Kurt screeched. Clearly, he had no idea about the belly button piercing either. “I’m gonna kill her Blaine.”

“Not if I kill her first.” Blaine replied. “What are you thinking? 2 weeks grounding.”

“Maybe 3.” Kurt added.

“Well, you get to tell her. I got the brunt of her tantrum this morning.” Blaine replied.

“Fine.” Kurt agreed. “I’m sure it’ll be the greatest part of my day.” he added sarcastically. “Well, I really have to go, babe.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at home tonight.” Blaine said. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Kurt replied before hanging up the phone. Oh the joys of parenting…

Later that afternoon, all three kids got home from school. “Charlie, I wouldn’t go far.” Blaine said. “Papa’s going to be home soon and we need to talk to you.” “Great, just what I wanted.” Charlie replied. “A lecture...not like I get enough of those.”

“Maybe if you’d stop acting like a tramp you’d stop getting them.” Caleb told his sister.

“Oh shut up Caleb!” Charlie retorted. “Just because I’m not a goodie two shoes like you doesn’t mean I’m a tramp.” he yelled before running upstairs and once again slamming her door.

“What is going on with your sister?” Blaine asked. “She’s always been...a bit of a diva, but she’s gotten so out of hand.”

“She’s got these new friends. They’re the cool girls at school and I don’t think they’re setting the best example for her.” Caleb confessed.

“Are they bad kids?”

“Well their not good, Dad.” Blaine sighed. Great, this was all that he needed. As if on cue, Kurt opened up the front door and walked into the living room.

“Caleb, can you go upstairs and tell your sister to come downstairs?” Blaine asked.

“Sure. To the dragon’s lair I go.” the boy added before heading upstairs.

“So, our plan is three weeks grounding?” Kurt asked.

“Sounds reasonable.” Blaine replied. “Caleb said Charlie’s got some new friends that aren’t setting the best example for her.”

“Well, that’s interesting.” Kurt replied. “This child...I just can’t with her sometimes.” A few minutes later, Charlie came downstairs and flopped down on the couch, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well, say it. How many weeks am I grounded for?” Charlie asked, rolling her eyes.

“3 weeks. No going out after school and no internet, unless it’s for school” kurt replied. “And you better get that attitude in check before I add another week. Also, you will take that jewelry out of your belly button and let it close. I don’t want to see it again.”

“Papa! I spent three months allowance on that.” Charlie screamed.

“Well, next time, you’ll think wiser about how you spend your money.” Blaine chimed in.

“You guys are the worst. You;’re so lame and annoying.”

“Keep pushing little girl.” Kurt threatened. “We can dole out more punishments.”

“You might as well. I can’t do anything right anyway.” Charlie replied before running back upstairs.  Kurt and Blaine were at a loss at what to do with that child. No matter how much they tried to talk to her, she just wouldn’t listen.

For the next few days, Charlie remained hostile and bitter towards them. However the breaking point came on Saturday night. Kurt and Blaine were both home cuddling on the couch watching a movie. All of a sudden, Blaine got a phone call. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear.

“Hello?” “Daddy…” came a terrified little voice.

“Charlie?”

“Daddy, I screwed up. I’m so sorry.” she cried.

“Honey, slow down. Take a deep breath.” Blaine coaxed as he sat up from Kurt’s grasp on the edge of the couch. Kurt sat up too, anxious to hear what was wrong.

“I-I went to this party with these girls.” Charlie cried. “I snuck out and I’m so sorry. There’s people drinking and doing drugs and I-I don’t want to be here. Daddy, please come get me. I’m so sorry!”

“Okay, hold on. Give me the address.” Blaine said as he motioned for Kurt to get a piece of paper and a pen.

“Its 3456 West Boulevard in the Bronx.” Blaine wrote furiously on the sheet of paper as his daughter talked.

“Jeez, okay. Honey, I’ll be there soon.” Blaine told her.

“Daddy, please hurry.” Charlie cried and then the phone turned off.

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asked immediately.

“Charlie snuck out to a party with those great new friends of hers and she’s scared and wants us to get her. The party is in the Bronx for god's sake.” Blaine rambled off as he grabbed his coat and car keys.

“I’m coming with you.” Kurt announced. Within minutes the two men were in the car and on their way to the Bronx to get their daughter. When they got to the address, there were people outside on the porch smoking what the two men assumed was weed and beer bottles littered the front lawn. Blaine sent Charlie a text and soon enough, she came running out of the house. She ran directly into Blaine’s arms.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.” Charlie cried into her father’s chest. Blaine held onto her tightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s okay. Get in the car and we’ll talk about this at home okay.” Charlie nodded and wiped her tears and got in the backseat. The ride home was completely silent. When they got home, Charlie sat down on the couch and Kurt and Blaine sat on either side of her.

“Honey, what were you thinking?” Kurt asked softly. This time, his voice wasn’t angry, just very concerned.

“I-I just wanted them to like me.”

“Who?” Blaine asked.

“These two girls, Tasha and Gwen. They’re cool at school and they wanted to be friends with me. They told me the party would be okay. They didn’t say that people would be drinking or that there would be drugs.” Charlie confessed.

“Honey, no friendship is worth compromising what kind of person you are.” Kurt told her. “Your Dad and I know that you’re a good girl. You just need to make better choices.”

“I know. You’re right.” Charlie admitted. “I’ll be better. I promise.” Kurt pressed a kiss to his daughter’s head and Blaine gave her a hug. “I think I’m going to take a shower and head to bed.”

“Okay honey.” Kurt replied.

“Thanks for rescuing me.” she added with a smile. “I guess you guys are pretty cool and pretty good examples for me.”

“Thanks Charlie.” Blaine replied. “You’re still grounded though.” “4 weeks.” Kurt added.

“Fair enough.” Charlie replied before heading upstairs. After their daughter disappeared upstairs, Kurt and Blaine gave one another a smile. She might be dramatic and not make the best choices sometimes, but she was still their baby and they didn’t know what they would do without her.