Welcome to the Glee Angst Meme again! You know how these things work. You can come here and prompt your most angsty prompts, and write stories filling those angsty prompts to let our characters suffer
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-FILL- Limits 2a/?haicrescendoOctober 24 2011, 01:58:06 UTC
HEY HEY. Second, uh...movement, section, chapter thing is coming up. Revel. :) Or something. I hope whoever's reading this enjoys it, because I kind of don't know what the hell I'm doing~
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There was really only so much that a person could take on. Kurt knew this, knew it when his body protested the impact of metal. He knew it when the top of the dumpster closed down on him and wouldn’t budge when he shoved at it because Karofsky and Azimio were sitting on it. He knew it when he’d finally begun to cry and scream, throwing himself against the walls and pounding his fists on anything he could reach until he bled. Kurt heard them laughing the whole time.
Finally, his vision went white and fuzzy and he sat down, right on top of a bag of day-old banana peels from breakfast and old spaghetti from lunch. Kurt didn’t know if he was shaking or if the world was shaking but nothing held still.
When the lid finally lifted (how long had it been, hours or days?) and light poured in, Kurt recoiled from it until hands reached in and hauled him out.
He knew those hands but he didn’t trust them, didn’t trust any of them, and the moment his feet hit pavement, Kurt was off like a shot. He had more stamina than Will Schuester had ever had and it wasn’t hard to outpace him.
He could hear the man shouting at his back, heard the concern and the worry and the fear but Kurt didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. If he stopped he’d start shaking again and he couldn’t do that. Stopping was bad. Stopping would put him right back in the dumpster again.
He saw red jackets and he cross-hopped away from them. They saw him anyway.
“Look, someone pulled the homo out! I think we need to stick him back where he belongs, don’t you think?”
Kurt didn’t know who spoke and he didn’t care. Their faces had blurred to him by now, all but Karofsky’s, whose own burned his brain and whose hands left marks on his shoulders and whose lips might have turned him off of kissing forever.
Kurt Hummel had been a Cheerio and if he’d learned anything from it, it was how to outpace, outthink, and outmean an opponent. He utilized that skill, running even after his pursuers breaths went ragged and hoarse because even if they’d slowed they were still following.
“How long you gonna run, lady boy?” they taunted and he didn’t bother replying. The old Kurt would have tossed back a snappy comeback even if he would never have been stupid enough to stop running. The old Kurt would have a planned route, a destination. The old Kurt would probably have headed to the choir room or to Coach Sylvester’s office or home.
Problem was, old Kurt had died right along with his father and everything he trusted, and this new Kurt was nothing like him.
Re: -FILL- Limits 2b/?haicrescendoOctober 24 2011, 02:02:08 UTC
New Kurt knew that the only thing that waited for him at home was emptiness and the only things he’d find at school were platitudes and pity, thick and nauseating.
Kurt scanned the street, looking for any place that might be safe enough to hide out in and which might have a back door. The convenience store was out, so were the gas station and the grocery and the local McDonald’s. But over there, just a little too far away for comfort and nestled up against a fence in an empty lot was a blue, vintage police box that would have been much more at home on an old British movie set.
Kurt didn’t know how long it’d been there; he surely would have noticed something like that before now, right? Now that he’d noticed it, it was far too distinctive for anyone with eyes to miss. The footsteps behind him jogged him out of his thoughts, however, and Kurt picked up speed, gunning for the call box.
If he was lucky, he might make it. Kurt hadn’t been lucky in a long, long time.
With one last burst of speed, the boy reached the police box. The door was open just the tiniest crack and he wrenched it open to slip inside, slamming the door shut with a resolute thud. Fists pounded on the walls and Kurt sunk to the floor without even looking up to see where he was, back pressed up to the door and his knees folded up to hit his chin.
“What the- who the blazes are you?” A sudden, distinctly British voice asked and Kurt jumped, blue eyes raising up to see… a girl. A blonde hazel-eyed girl was standing in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at him as if she’d never seen another human being before. And behind her was… holy shit. There was nothing that he might have expected, no tiny, dingy corners and an old phone or a posted paper with numbers to call.
Instead, coiling branches of what looked like coral held up the domed ceiling and holy hell, it was massive. A rounded consol was set in the middle of the room, covered in complicated levers and buttons and blinking lights and connecting up into a glowing tube, and it was absolutely impossible.
“Oi, are you listening to me? How’d you even get in here?”
Oh, the girl was speaking and had kneeled in front of him, trying to peer up into his face. Kurt lowered his head to let his bangs, unstyled and damp with sweat, drift in front of his eyes.
“I opened the door,” he muttered.
“But you can’t have- I locked it,” she insisted.
“Apparently not,” Kurt replied faintly, “It was open a crack. I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what the hell this is or how the hell this is and if you’re going to eat my brain or something -could you not?- I can’t really stop you, but can I just sit here for a few minutes until they go away? It shouldn’t take long; they’re stupid.” He didn’t look up to see her blink in shock but he did hear her laugh, surprised and boisterous.
Re: -FILL- Limits 2c/?haicrescendoOctober 24 2011, 02:09:16 UTC
“Eat your- I’m not going to eat your brain! A bit morbid, are you?”
“There are people outside who could and would easily kill me and I’m inside a police box that looks like a spaceship. I wouldn’t be missed so if you’re lying to me and you are going to eat my brain, make it quick.”
The girl sighed and rubbed her temples.
“Oh, the Doctor’s going to have a fit when he gets a load of this.” At her words, Kurt finally chanced a look, hoping that she wouldn’t still be staring intently at him. He’d never been lucky and the moment he raised his head, he got a piercing look. “What’s that all over your clothes?”
Kurt glanced down at his sleeves and sighed.
“If I’m not wrong, some repulsive mixture of spaghetti and rotten fruit.”
The girl cringed.
“Well, this wasn’t included in my instructions. Stay in the TARDIS, Rose. I’ll be back in a few hours, Rose. Lock the door, Rose,” she muttered to herself and Kurt had the distinct impression that she was mocking someone, “Well, I did all those things. Everything else is out of my book.” Sighing a bit, she looked him over and for the first time in a long while, Kurt thought about how he must have looked, huddled up in a ball on the floor of what was very likely the spaceship belonging to something (someone?) that ate brains. “Nothing to be done for it now, and I’m certainly not going to throw you back to those brutes outside. Never liked the rude and violent type, myself. Now, before the Doctor gets back and throws his hissy, how about I show you somewhere to get cleaned up a bit? Rotten fruit does nothing to improve your look.”
Kurt honestly didn’t know what to say in response to that.
For the first time in months he had questions bouncing around in his head. He opened his mouth to speak, fully intending to say that the floor was lovely, thanks, but all that came out was,
“Doctor who? And don’t talk about my look when you’ve got roots showing.”
(Fake) Blondie grinned at him.
“If I had ten pence for every time someone asked me that, I’d be as rich as a Sultan, you know?”
Re: -FILL- Limits 2d/?haicrescendoOctober 24 2011, 02:15:43 UTC
“Anyway, he’s just the Doctor; best leave it at that. I’m Rose, feel like getting up off the floor?” The girl -Rose, he told himself- rocked to her feet and glanced down at him, extending a hand to him. Kurt just stared at it for a few seconds, wondering about hidden tentacles or claws but finding none. “Hey, I’m human, I promise. And I won’t eat you.” She waggled her fingers and Kurt finally took her hand, warm and normal underneath his fingers.
“Uh…nice to meet you. I’m Kurt.”
Something, whatever this whole thing was, was beginning to catch up with him and Kurt tried desperately not to think about how this was working or why this huge room was inside an old police box. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know. He’d try and wash the garbage out of his clothes and hopefully his pursuers would have gotten bored by the time he was done.
Despite Rose’s impressions, Kurt wasn’t positive that he wanted to stick around long enough to meet this ‘Doctor’, especially if he was going to be throwing a hissy fit over Kurt’s half-falling into his giant box.
By now, Rose had pushed open a door -Lord’s hairy balls, it was bigger?- and was beckoning him to follow her down a hallway that seemed to go on forever.
“There’s a loo just in here,” she informed him, pushing open another door that opened into an admittedly marvelous bathroom. “Take your time.”
And then the door closed and Kurt was left in there with all the marble and porcelain inside an old call box. For at least two minutes, all he could do was look around and try to get his bearings back, examining the tub and the toilet and the sink, all of it huge and luxurious. Rose had appeared genuinely shocked that he’d been able to enter when, in all actuality, the door had already been open. In retrospect, Kurt wasn’t sure why they opened to the inside when they had rather obvious little pull handles on them, but that was neither here nor there. He didn’t even know where he was anymore, much less capable of reasoning out why the doors were wrong.
The hallway was quiet and finally, after steadfastly ignoring his reflection in the large mirror, Kurt began to strip off his clothing, nose wrinkling at the smell.
Re: -FILL- Limits 2c/?sj_rOctober 24 2011, 02:24:31 UTC
Whoever's reading this is certainly enjoying it! Not OP, but I love this to death already; the only thing I love more than Doctor Who is Glee, and mashing them together like this is wonderfully angsty and intriguing. I love how dark and broken Kurt is, how despite not caring anymore he still fights (well, runs), how he has nothing left but is still snarky as hell. I also find myself reluctantly liking your Rose (whom is perfectly in character I might add); I don't like her much in the series, mostly because I find her too Mary Sue-ish for my liking and was Russel T Davies little pet (bleh!), and the whole falling in love with the Doctor thing, but I did like her in the beginning with Nine. Perhaps you can redeem her for me. I've the strangest urge to go watch 'Rose' or 'Grilled Cheesus', and it's half past three in the morning. So I'll just sit here and pet my Five doll (oh, I love Ten dearly, and Eleven is awesome, but Five is my Doctor, you understand) and wait for more updates. Don't stop! You're doing a great job!
Re: -FILL- Limits 2c/?haicrescendoOctober 24 2011, 02:52:37 UTC
Oh man, thank you so much! I'm super excited that you're liking this. I was kind of worried because I really love Rose and I noticed that people were like "noooooo leave her out" so the fact that you are enjoying her (however reluctantly) is like...a crazy awesome victory for me. :) Thank you, thank you, thank you!
I'll probably have the next bit up tomorrow; I have more written but I don't want my posting to catch up with my writing because it stresses me out and I worry that I'll lose my motivation. I hope that you keep reading!
Re: -FILL- Limits 2c/?firefly_caOctober 24 2011, 04:14:55 UTC
Aaaaaa!! I'm not even done yet but I couldn't keep reading without stopping to tell you how much this is awesome!!!
THIS IS SO AWESOME!!
Rose's voice is bang on, and Kurt's head space here is a perfect match for meeting Nine, and Kurt just called out Rose's roots!!! I waited years for that to happen and all it took was three minutes with Kurt Hummel for my dreams to be recognized.
Re: -FILL- Limits 2c/?haicrescendoOctober 24 2011, 16:20:27 UTC
Oh my gosh, thank you! I'm super happy that you're liking it! Yeah, not even grief-ridden, denial-wider-than-the-river Kurt here would be able to take a crack at his looks without calling out those roots. I hope that you continue to read and enjoy!
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There was really only so much that a person could take on. Kurt knew this, knew it when his body protested the impact of metal. He knew it when the top of the dumpster closed down on him and wouldn’t budge when he shoved at it because Karofsky and Azimio were sitting on it. He knew it when he’d finally begun to cry and scream, throwing himself against the walls and pounding his fists on anything he could reach until he bled. Kurt heard them laughing the whole time.
Finally, his vision went white and fuzzy and he sat down, right on top of a bag of day-old banana peels from breakfast and old spaghetti from lunch. Kurt didn’t know if he was shaking or if the world was shaking but nothing held still.
When the lid finally lifted (how long had it been, hours or days?) and light poured in, Kurt recoiled from it until hands reached in and hauled him out.
He knew those hands but he didn’t trust them, didn’t trust any of them, and the moment his feet hit pavement, Kurt was off like a shot. He had more stamina than Will Schuester had ever had and it wasn’t hard to outpace him.
He could hear the man shouting at his back, heard the concern and the worry and the fear but Kurt didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. If he stopped he’d start shaking again and he couldn’t do that. Stopping was bad. Stopping would put him right back in the dumpster again.
He saw red jackets and he cross-hopped away from them. They saw him anyway.
“Look, someone pulled the homo out! I think we need to stick him back where he belongs, don’t you think?”
Kurt didn’t know who spoke and he didn’t care. Their faces had blurred to him by now, all but Karofsky’s, whose own burned his brain and whose hands left marks on his shoulders and whose lips might have turned him off of kissing forever.
Kurt Hummel had been a Cheerio and if he’d learned anything from it, it was how to outpace, outthink, and outmean an opponent. He utilized that skill, running even after his pursuers breaths went ragged and hoarse because even if they’d slowed they were still following.
“How long you gonna run, lady boy?” they taunted and he didn’t bother replying. The old Kurt would have tossed back a snappy comeback even if he would never have been stupid enough to stop running. The old Kurt would have a planned route, a destination. The old Kurt would probably have headed to the choir room or to Coach Sylvester’s office or home.
Problem was, old Kurt had died right along with his father and everything he trusted, and this new Kurt was nothing like him.
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Kurt scanned the street, looking for any place that might be safe enough to hide out in and which might have a back door. The convenience store was out, so were the gas station and the grocery and the local McDonald’s. But over there, just a little too far away for comfort and nestled up against a fence in an empty lot was a blue, vintage police box that would have been much more at home on an old British movie set.
Kurt didn’t know how long it’d been there; he surely would have noticed something like that before now, right? Now that he’d noticed it, it was far too distinctive for anyone with eyes to miss. The footsteps behind him jogged him out of his thoughts, however, and Kurt picked up speed, gunning for the call box.
If he was lucky, he might make it. Kurt hadn’t been lucky in a long, long time.
With one last burst of speed, the boy reached the police box. The door was open just the tiniest crack and he wrenched it open to slip inside, slamming the door shut with a resolute thud. Fists pounded on the walls and Kurt sunk to the floor without even looking up to see where he was, back pressed up to the door and his knees folded up to hit his chin.
“What the- who the blazes are you?” A sudden, distinctly British voice asked and Kurt jumped, blue eyes raising up to see… a girl. A blonde hazel-eyed girl was standing in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at him as if she’d never seen another human being before. And behind her was… holy shit. There was nothing that he might have expected, no tiny, dingy corners and an old phone or a posted paper with numbers to call.
Instead, coiling branches of what looked like coral held up the domed ceiling and holy hell, it was massive. A rounded consol was set in the middle of the room, covered in complicated levers and buttons and blinking lights and connecting up into a glowing tube, and it was absolutely impossible.
“Oi, are you listening to me? How’d you even get in here?”
Oh, the girl was speaking and had kneeled in front of him, trying to peer up into his face. Kurt lowered his head to let his bangs, unstyled and damp with sweat, drift in front of his eyes.
“I opened the door,” he muttered.
“But you can’t have- I locked it,” she insisted.
“Apparently not,” Kurt replied faintly, “It was open a crack. I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what the hell this is or how the hell this is and if you’re going to eat my brain or something -could you not?- I can’t really stop you, but can I just sit here for a few minutes until they go away? It shouldn’t take long; they’re stupid.” He didn’t look up to see her blink in shock but he did hear her laugh, surprised and boisterous.
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“There are people outside who could and would easily kill me and I’m inside a police box that looks like a spaceship. I wouldn’t be missed so if you’re lying to me and you are going to eat my brain, make it quick.”
The girl sighed and rubbed her temples.
“Oh, the Doctor’s going to have a fit when he gets a load of this.” At her words, Kurt finally chanced a look, hoping that she wouldn’t still be staring intently at him. He’d never been lucky and the moment he raised his head, he got a piercing look. “What’s that all over your clothes?”
Kurt glanced down at his sleeves and sighed.
“If I’m not wrong, some repulsive mixture of spaghetti and rotten fruit.”
The girl cringed.
“Well, this wasn’t included in my instructions. Stay in the TARDIS, Rose. I’ll be back in a few hours, Rose. Lock the door, Rose,” she muttered to herself and Kurt had the distinct impression that she was mocking someone, “Well, I did all those things. Everything else is out of my book.” Sighing a bit, she looked him over and for the first time in a long while, Kurt thought about how he must have looked, huddled up in a ball on the floor of what was very likely the spaceship belonging to something (someone?) that ate brains. “Nothing to be done for it now, and I’m certainly not going to throw you back to those brutes outside. Never liked the rude and violent type, myself. Now, before the Doctor gets back and throws his hissy, how about I show you somewhere to get cleaned up a bit? Rotten fruit does nothing to improve your look.”
Kurt honestly didn’t know what to say in response to that.
For the first time in months he had questions bouncing around in his head. He opened his mouth to speak, fully intending to say that the floor was lovely, thanks, but all that came out was,
“Doctor who? And don’t talk about my look when you’ve got roots showing.”
(Fake) Blondie grinned at him.
“If I had ten pence for every time someone asked me that, I’d be as rich as a Sultan, you know?”
Kurt didn’t know but he could guess.
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“Uh…nice to meet you. I’m Kurt.”
Something, whatever this whole thing was, was beginning to catch up with him and Kurt tried desperately not to think about how this was working or why this huge room was inside an old police box. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know. He’d try and wash the garbage out of his clothes and hopefully his pursuers would have gotten bored by the time he was done.
Despite Rose’s impressions, Kurt wasn’t positive that he wanted to stick around long enough to meet this ‘Doctor’, especially if he was going to be throwing a hissy fit over Kurt’s half-falling into his giant box.
By now, Rose had pushed open a door -Lord’s hairy balls, it was bigger?- and was beckoning him to follow her down a hallway that seemed to go on forever.
“There’s a loo just in here,” she informed him, pushing open another door that opened into an admittedly marvelous bathroom. “Take your time.”
And then the door closed and Kurt was left in there with all the marble and porcelain inside an old call box. For at least two minutes, all he could do was look around and try to get his bearings back, examining the tub and the toilet and the sink, all of it huge and luxurious. Rose had appeared genuinely shocked that he’d been able to enter when, in all actuality, the door had already been open. In retrospect, Kurt wasn’t sure why they opened to the inside when they had rather obvious little pull handles on them, but that was neither here nor there. He didn’t even know where he was anymore, much less capable of reasoning out why the doors were wrong.
The hallway was quiet and finally, after steadfastly ignoring his reflection in the large mirror, Kurt began to strip off his clothing, nose wrinkling at the smell.
---
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You just...
How did you do that?
How did you just break my heart whilst simultaneously making me so so happy?
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(P.S. It's because I'm magic ohohohohoho.)
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I'll probably have the next bit up tomorrow; I have more written but I don't want my posting to catch up with my writing because it stresses me out and I worry that I'll lose my motivation. I hope that you keep reading!
Reply
THIS IS SO AWESOME!!
Rose's voice is bang on, and Kurt's head space here is a perfect match for meeting Nine, and Kurt just called out Rose's roots!!! I waited years for that to happen and all it took was three minutes with Kurt Hummel for my dreams to be recognized.
I. Love. This.
:D
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