Little author notes about so much.

Ownership Disclaimer: Glee? Oh come on, not mine, however, there are borrowed words from ep 11 here and other eps. Especially if you're a true Gleek, you'll know what's borrowed and what's not. You know the marital thing, Something borrowed, something blue, something old, something new. The blue is covered in Kurt's blue/aqua outfits, old is the older New Directions mentioned, and the newness are the newbies.

And: I'd be tickled pink if you like my words. Please review? It's really important for personal growth and to show the Glee Gods that I'm worth listening to. (tell you more in the next chapter)

Psst: The ball of wet and dry = Earth. bwsdsp = but we still don't ship pirates.

~ S5 ep11, You Win Some, You Lose Sum ~

At the top of the stairs, on the edge of the balcony, sits a young man looking up toward the little ball of wet and dry, in the afternoon sky. His back is against the arm railings, as he hears the Old Man coming outside he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

The Old Man creaks open the door, walks out and then lets the door fall closed. Making the familiar homey sound that all front wire fly screen doors do, on hot summer days.

He hands him a cold drink. "How are you doing Finn?"

"Yeah, not bad Mr Schue…" The Old Man booms a chuckle as He sits down alongside Finn.

"You did it again. ... It's alright, when you're not thinking of him you'll stop calling all us oldie's Mr Schue." The Old Man shoulders Finn, finally Finn throws Him a half smile.

"Hmm, I know that half smile look Finn. Santana was right, you're up to something." The Old Man wraps his hands around His coffee mug and takes a long drink. "Share then. What are you thinking about?"

"Oh come on Lord, You know before I've finished thinking it, what's on my mind."

"Yes, but it's better when you say it. That way you take ownership of your thoughts." He watches Finn ponder and wraps an arm around him. "Come on, spill."

A sigh, and finally "Well, the New Directions will be competing this weekend, and I wondered…." He pulls his legs up with his hands and leans in to the Lord hugging him, like his Mum used to.

"Go on, you wondered?"

"If I could go and watch them? But in the rafters, where no one will see me." He leans his head back a little and looks up at the Lord. The Old Man squeezes him a smidge.

"Of course you can. It would be a great idea for you to do that. You do actually, still, have the ability to motivate and inspire, even in this form. I'm pretty sure that Sam could really use your guidance right now. Mr Schue, Blaine and Carole can only do so much. And she could do with you whispering in her head."

The Old Man turns and grabs Finn on either side of his big noggin. He holds him firmly, and places the most delicate of Fatherly kisses on his forehead. "You, are a shining star Finn. You helped transform that club, you weren't just the male lead, you were the captain of the football team, and the coolest kid in that school."

"Now You're making me feel guilty."

"Don't be guilty. You made a decision, you knew the possibilities of what might happen."

"But …."

"No buts Finn." He's not cross, but He's also tired of repeating Himself. "Look if you want to go and cheer and inspire them on, then do it. They could do with your loving presence. And most likely, you'll benefit from the experience too."

Finn throws a bear hug around the Old Man.

"You still have a curfew, so I'd get going soon if I were you." The Old Man pushes his vice grip off and they smile as Father and Sons do.

Finn jumps up and whistles for his dog. "Come here Buster!" Buster comes running around the corner and sits at the bottom of the stairs. Finn taps his knees and Buster runs up the stairs to him. The Old Man moves over to let the dog through.

Buster pushes Finn back, then jumps up to his waiting arms. "Alright, well…." He swaps a huge smile and wink with the Old Man, then takes Buster inside.

~ STOP ~

"STOP! Stop the filming, drawing, writing,….talking, thinking and any other 'ing'!" screams the director through the mega phone.

"It's come to our attention that some of you fans are pushing the boundaries of what is allowed in reproducing our product. We want you to stop what you're doing and go back to being drones of our shows. We want you to only purchase legitimate products and sit and wait and twiddle your thumbs, and eat lots of food to make you unhealthy and fat, or buy products that will make you lose unhealthy amounts of weight and then buy clothes that don't fit."

"Um excuse us, but we do adore your show and we're not going to allow you or anyone else to push us around into being unhealthy drones." It could be Mercedes or Unique speaking.

"Well we want you to only purchase legitimate copies of our shows and music, and images. We want to Stop Online Piracy Acts."

"Okay, but what are you saying is Online Piracy Acts?"

"Well that's a pretty deep and dusty hole to explain here. It's also very complicated and heavily regulated, to explain. But we're going to have a meeting with Congress of the United States government and then you'll have to stop."

"Wait, what?" Said Kurt. "You mean the same Congress that my father Burt Hummel is part of?"

"No, not quite." Kurt and all the other actors of Glee are looking at one another with genuine surprise and questioning wonder. They're certain he got into Congress, unless there's another Congress. The drummer does his quick 'rattle, rattle, boom!, boom!'. The cast and crew look at him, he shrugs his shoulders. He knows that's what Finn would have done.

"Hold on, hold on." Pipes in Santana. "Stop that, imitation man boobs…" If glares could kill, she'd have murdered the drummer for his insensitivity.

"No wait you hold on, Santana and others. This is supposed to be Fan Fiction writing. That means nothing non-fiction. So you can't write about reality, or real things."

"Wait, what?" puzzled Kurt is on repeat, replay. He's sitting with Rachel in Miss Pillsbury's office discussing trying to get into NYADA. The voice and question fits every scenario of trying to find an answer to stupid questions or demands.

Rory throws in his thick Irish accent, 'cause the intro announcer has mentioned him, so of course he's in here too. "But this is fiction writing. None of this has really been said or done."

"But the SOPA is real…, and the writer is real!"

~ interlude music, hmmm has the fourth wall been breeched? ~

Brittany to the rescue, of course. "The writer is reading with us all. Although her hands are moving, they do so independently of non-fiction and other agenda seeking attention."

All eyes on Brittany, she's so smart. No wonder she got into that University of all things Smarts, even though it's Santana that has the Street Smarts.

"My turn." Buts in Burt. "You know Finn really cared about you guyz, and the actor that played him, he really cared about the fans and the not so fans. He was a tireless, fearless leader. He wouldn't want you to go and win just for him, but he'd be saying that The time of your lives is now, and in a moment it's all going to be over."

Mercedes interrupts, "Like that saying, Make the most of the opportunities that come your way."

"Exactly!" adds Carole as she claps her hands and smiles widely at everyone. "You have to take the opportunities and work with them."

The official is getting annoyed at all this happiness, gleeness, way of rationale. "Look that's all very well, but we don't want you copying our work. We don't want you drawing and singing and writing about our things."

Kitty adds "What, we can't comment like the newspapers and celebrity bloggers do?"

"My Turn, MY TURRNNN!" says Rachel in a very high pitched voice, as she leans over the floor. One hand on the ground for support and the other reaching for the bottle in the middle of the playing square. She spins the bottle, and it goes around, and around, and around. Eventually it stops, and is pointing at Blaine Devon Anderson (of course, who else is the winner in all of any of this? come onnnn?).

"This is outstanding!" Kurt claps his mouth shut. "Blaine Warberlerrrrr, I'm gonna RocK your world." Rachel points at him, he looks at her with freakin' scary eyes and can't move back from her fast enough. She lunges at him, he screams and tries to hide behind Kurt, who pushes Rachel over, who falls against Sam Evans, who then inturn falls against the next door neighbour.

All this is happening so quickly that the kid from across the road has been able to draw quick stick people on his drawing pad. When he gets home, he'll get his sister to upload on her computer. She'll get her friend, Bobby, to stop dancing and please colour in and add notations of humour.

Bobby will ask SoAndSo from You Tube to put some music score to some flipping images and upload that. Eventually MrBigShotName from programme YouWantItWeWantItButWeHaveMoreMoneyThanYouSoWeGetToMakeItForYou will see the script written by HimWhoseNameWeDon'tReallyKnow, who actually got the idea off the internet because he or she doesn't have a clue what he or she is doing anymore. Talk about never really having an original idea!

MrBigShotName will put the idea to a panel of street and fan based audience, they will love what they see, and in turn approve another season of ThatShow.

TheDweebs from OverThere will write words of acceptance or disapproval. TheOthers from OverThere will become the HateMailWriters of HatersVille and will try to have the show cancelled. But the FansThatAreBasedEverywhere will be the ones who'll keep everything moving around, because they're the real ones Livin' La Vida Loca.

It is the true fans, who help keep the fandom rolling on. Especially when the shows go into hiatus mode. It is the fans that are there for the long haul. It is the FanFiction writers, the drawers on the drawing sites and the music blenders with the images that keep it all alive.

Otherwise the subjects will dry up and the fans will move on to other things.

~ but we still don't ship pirate purchases

{Okay, so close talkers are now permitted in Glee. They originated in Seinfeld and had a small part in Friends, now they're in Glee. Who the hell is writing these stories? (keep it up, it's funny.) Or did the idea come from somewhere else, and we don't know about it, but if we did would you be sharing the limelight with the original writer or just sucking up in their rightful acknowledgement and pay.}

~ bwsdsp ~

"Hmmm!" hmms Blaine. First Sebastian, then Eli, now Jean Baptiste is hitting on him. Or is he? He's certainly getting in Blaine's personal space and messing with his breathing.

A massive surge of heat coursed through his being, when Jean Baptiste had said his name. He spoke Blaine's name so clearly, eloquently, delightfully, ahhh!

Eventually Blaine's eye caught with Jean's, just as Sebastian's had.

"I feel something so right, doing the wrong thing." wink! "I.I.I.I.I feel something so wrong, doing the right thing." wink, wink again!

And Blaine's blood pressure rises, his face flushes crimson red, Sam notices and thumps him in the arm.

"Everything that kills me makes me feel alive." They're the words that Jean and Throat Explosion were singing, however at a quarter past the 25th hour, that's exactly what happened, for Finn.

The memory comes rushing back for Finn, while he's watching, his mind is flipping to his last breathing day on this Earth.

He's pulled from a lasting reverie when New Directions sing out the words "Hold onto a dream! They're coming to America!"

At one minute passed the 40th hour he found what he was looking for, or did he?

He's had enough and can't be here and watch anymore. He rises to lift off from the rafter. As he does so, he feels the Old Man's presence, turns and throws himself into waiting arms, burying his anguished face into His neck. Just like he did, when he turned to Mr Schue.

Blaine looks to the ceiling, certain that he'd heard Kurt's brother crying. Artie looks to the ceiling, Sam, Tina and Mr Schue as well.

The applause is quietening down and the thunderous sounds from above start to shake the chandeliers.

Carole looks to Burt, who then hugs her tight, as she too resumes her crushing pain and sorrow.

~ Rest in Peace, Corey Monteith. Thankyou for all that you did. We love and miss you. ~

Important extra Author Notes: Expressing oneself, should not be limited or suppressed. It is a human right.
I only heard of SOPA this week. Apparently there is a dead line for a petition being signed and sent to stop SOPA. I am all for correct rights going where they should.
If the rolling effect were to cease and desist Fan Fiction writer's site, other writer's sites and associated artistic fan based sites, well that wouldn't be very nice. So please consider this chapter my submission for the argument to allow fans to write, draw and express themselves legitimately.
Through fandoms, the shows have remained, or the thing that people are fans about. **I'm into Glee, so that's why I've written the way I have. I don't totally believe that all executives and associated staff of Glee are nasty, as I've written here.
My person used as the official, is just a blanket representative of the official bunch who want to stamp out piracy.

More importantly: It has been through fandom based avenues that the majority of us mourners were able to handle Corey Monteith passing away. Everyone needs some way of dealing with their grief, not everyone has experienced death of those nearby or far.

I read somewhere that Winston Churchill would not allow the moving of funds from the arts to the war movement. He apparently said that: Without arts, what are we fighting for? Meaning that arts are essential.

So other than the reality of this chapter, how did you like my little story? Be one of the few, and please review?