#dicingvision writes

[dicingvision]

Hi! I'm an author working on being brave enough to publish my work. Starting with a season 6 rewrite series about Kurt and Blaine.

Works in Progress

Part 1: Descent

It's the beginning of a new year, and the start of a new chapter for Kurt and Blaine. They've finally moved back in together, set a date for their wedding, and they have New York all to themselves. It should be the best time of their lives. Right? Caught off guard by the stress of living together again, Kurt can't stop getting this bad feeling when he thinks about the future. What if he and Blaine don't make it? What if things aren't as good as they seem? What if they truly aren't compatible? As Blaine tries to plan the wedding of their dreams, Kurt finds himself spiraling over every little thing, from Blaine’s past infidelity to his lack of independence. Blaine’s happy to finally plan their future together, though he senses Kurt’s off. He just can’t put his finger on why. The two struggle to understand each other as something neither of them quite comprehends begins pulling them apart. With the future looking less and less clear, Kurt and Blaine must answer the question: is love enough to carry them through? A season 6 Klaine rewrite with a mental health focus. Part 1 of the series "Works in Progress." Updated weekly.

Read it on AO3 here.

[dicingvision]

Posting snippets of my Klaine season 6 rewrite until I have the courage to finally publish it:

“T-minus three months until the wedding!” An explosion of cheers. The sounds of excitement smack into my ears like a tidal wave. I’m instantly underwater. It’s oddly unsettling to know all these people are so happy for us. It feels like the proposal all over again—all these people watching, drinking up our love. But that time, at least, many of them were friends and family. Here, most of these people are still strangers to me, acquaintances from NYADA and nothing more. Their eager applause and vulture-like stares only crush me inwards. It’s claustrophobic. I almost feel like a monkey in a zoo—all I did was move a few steps across my enclosure and the humans behind the glass are applauding me like I just invented sliced bread. Blaine doesn’t seem to notice. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy, smiling big enough that his eyes disappear into little crescents so all I can see are the fans of his dark eyelashes. He reminds me of a cherub when he smiles like this. Precious. He pulls me into a hug. Despite my muscle’s previous tension, I will them to relax. It’s hard when it’s in front of all these leering people. My knees are too stiff, and they nearly buckle as Blaine presses against me. My arms remain awkwardly at my sides, locked into place inside his embrace. The heat of his body suffocates me. I catch a whiff of that raspberry hair gel—comfortingly sweet—but then body odor wafts into my nostrils, souring all my air. I try not to flinch away. Since when does Blaine smell like a middle school boy’s locker room? Gross. Revulsion overwhelms my senses. I remind myself that this is just what people smell like when they’ve spent a lot of physical energy. I’m sure I smell like this after going to the gym all the time. Blaine’s never commented on my body odor when I get back home after exercising. He always kisses me without complaint, compliments how I take care of my body, usually takes the opportunity to say something sexy about my muscles. What’s wrong with me? Why am I only paying attention to all these little bad things that are out of his control? Blaine must sense my discomfort. Probably because I’m like a statue in his arms. He pulls away. “Are you okay?” I’m being stupid, I’m being weird. My gut twists itself into a knot that I don’t know how to untangle. I can’t name whatever it is I’m feeling, besides bad. No need to worry him. It doesn’t matter. So I say, “I think I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten since lunch today.” Blaine’s eyes widen immediately. “Oh my God, Kurt, that was like eight hours ago.” He rests his hand on the small of my back and guides me gently to the edge of the stage, then out the door as he calls out goodbyes to a few of his friends. My nostrils suck in as much fresh air as they can get—well, as fresh as the air can be in New York City. The wind has the musty edge of piss, but it’s better than inside the club. Once we’re outside, Blaine slips his hand into my own. His skin is still a little moist, but the cool night air makes it more tolerable. I squeeze it. “Thanks.” “You gotta take care of yourself, Kurt.” He frowns a little. “I know. I’m sorry to rush you away from the adoring crowds.” He softens into a smile, then squeezes back. “You are the only adoring crowd I need. Now, let’s get you a chicken salad wrap, stat.” “I think I’d scale Mount Everest in a pair of unsensible heels for a good chicken salad wrap,” I joke. He chuckles, baring his teeth for all of New York to see. “I know.” He does pay attention to the things I like. He does love me more than anything else. He loves me more than anything else. I hate that I have to keep reminding myself of this, because isn’t that obvious already? Then why can’t I believe it?