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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Kurt dies. Burt brings him back.
anonymous
December 24 2011, 00:11:46 UTC
Kurt dies. Maybe he gets killed by gaybashers or by a hit-and-run. Burt is anguished, and looks for ways to bring him back. He finds a way, and fails to realize that what is dead should stay dead.
Kurt is brought back. He is sweet and innocent to his Dad, and Burt is relieved. But the guy(s) who killed him seem to be dying mysterious and violent deaths, along with the jocks who bullied him at McKinley...
Fill: 1/? Beckoning
anonymous
December 25 2011, 18:50:42 UTC
(I do not know Latin. I am using Google Translator. If you know Latin and read this and go “that’s...not how that goes...” I apologize in advance. If you know Latin and want to tell me the error of my ways, please do. I will love you forever.)
Reducens consorte meo sanguine.*
Things ripped and tore and reformed. Threads twisted and snapped and broke and it was tears and screaming and pain and blood.
Reducens consorte nomen meum.*
Ice spread through dry veins and there was screaming and laughing and despair - how dare you how dare you he is mine he is mine I’ll kill you - and dust made marrow and bone mended and muscles seared into being. And drums sounded and light and dark and
Tolle nomen ejus.*
And wild joy and happiness and you are forgiven you are a fool he is still mine always mine you are a fool and I will see you broken and he is mine always and victory screeches and power and laughing. It’s too much and with a crack and a creak there is a beat. And then another.
Veni!*And with a kiss too late and too short eyes
( ... )
Fill: 2a/? Beckoning
anonymous
December 28 2011, 01:54:47 UTC
Kurt hummed softly as he waited for the pancakes to turn brown. The wind whispered to him, telling him where people were and what they were doing. The shadows in the house cooed at him, inching forward to caress his bare feet and ankles. He felt Burt wake up and start down the stairs. Kurt shooed the shadows away and flipped the pancakes
( ... )
Re: Fill: 2b/? Beckoning
anonymous
December 28 2011, 01:57:28 UTC
Kurt looked up at the house of one Aaron Delenski, football jock and longtime hater of anything that was outside his comfort zone. Before, he was just some kid that threw slushies in his face and shoved him into lockers but now he was one of the people who helped beat him half to death and then left him to die, alone, in the woods
( ... )
Re: Fill: 2c/? Beckoning
anonymous
December 28 2011, 01:58:19 UTC
The shadows compressed and spat out a doll - nothing fancy, just a cloth doll with short hair and beads for eyes. Kurt smiled and dipped his fingers in Aaron’s blood, writing symbols previously lost to time and memory on the doll’s head and Aaron’s head. They didn’t match, that wouldn’t make much sense, no what Kurt wrote was a poem that started on one and ended on the other. And old poem that his mother had taught him, that first timeless sweep of moments when they were finally together again, before Kurt’s companion re-found him and things changed.
Old bones and old threads and new thread and new bearings. What was once flesh shall not be and what was once not shall be.Simple. The translation isn’t exact, English is such a horrible language for magic in the same way that it’s a wonderful language - horrible if you’re on one end but wonderful if you’re on another. English made it so much easier for curses to hold, made it so much easier to trap people, to own people, which made it a wonderful language. But it was also imprecise,
( ... )
I'm glad you and others are enjoying it, I should have another installment out before the year is up...hopefully. If not, it'll be up in the early hours of 2012! Still don't know how long this is going to be...
Fill: 3a/? Beckoning
anonymous
January 1 2012, 04:00:53 UTC
A few more days passed. Burt didn’t go to work and spent all day with Kurt, watching television and listening to Kurt sing haunting songs that made the shadows sway on the walls. They talked and Kurt would dance and sometimes Burt was sure that he could hear whispering when he slept, but he ignored it. He ignored a lot of things, because his son was back
( ... )
Re: Fill: 3b/? Beckoning
anonymous
January 1 2012, 04:05:06 UTC
(okay, here's some gore. Have fun.)It was so easy to deal with them. His companion shifted and lengthened and bended itself into a fish of some sort with bulging eyes and sharp, sharp teeth while Kurt picked one of them - out of the five that they dealt with, Kurt picked the one that carved words into Kurt’s original body. His companion ripped the other four apart quickly, ripping arms and legs off and waiting for the bodies to either drown or bleed out, whichever happened first. And the boy Kurt was focused on thought himself lucky when he made it to shore, throwing himself onto land and throwing up, crying
( ... )
Re: Fill: 3c/? Beckoning
anonymous
January 1 2012, 04:05:56 UTC
You let that one run?“My darlings went ahead of him.” Kurt responded, turning onto a trail seemingly at random. This lake was were most, if not all, of the jocks and Cheerios used to hang out - it was the make-out spot, the summer hang out spot, the party spot. Kurt had never really understood what made this lake special, the one he and his old friends used to hang out at was much prettier and more secluded, but he didn’t make the rules of social spots
( ... )
Kurt is brought back. He is sweet and innocent to his Dad, and Burt is relieved. But the guy(s) who killed him seem to be dying mysterious and violent deaths, along with the jocks who bullied him at McKinley...
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Reducens consorte meo sanguine.*
Things ripped and tore and reformed. Threads twisted and snapped and broke and it was tears and screaming and pain and blood.
Reducens consorte nomen meum.*
Ice spread through dry veins and there was screaming and laughing and despair - how dare you how dare you he is mine he is mine I’ll kill you - and dust made marrow and bone mended and muscles seared into being. And drums sounded and light and dark and
Tolle nomen ejus.*
And wild joy and happiness and you are forgiven you are a fool he is still mine always mine you are a fool and I will see you broken and he is mine always and victory screeches and power and laughing. It’s too much and with a crack and a creak there is a beat. And then another.
Veni!*And with a kiss too late and too short eyes ( ... )
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Old bones and old threads and new thread and new bearings. What was once flesh shall not be and what was once not shall be.Simple. The translation isn’t exact, English is such a horrible language for magic in the same way that it’s a wonderful language - horrible if you’re on one end but wonderful if you’re on another. English made it so much easier for curses to hold, made it so much easier to trap people, to own people, which made it a wonderful language. But it was also imprecise, ( ... )
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