#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?

[dicingvision]

Descent: Chapter 9

The Space Between

***

Kurt won’t let me touch him. 

Ever since his panic attack on Monday, he keeps away from me. That night, when we got into bed, I moved in to snuggle up to him. As soon as I did, he scooted away. Weird, I thought. Most nights his chest is my pillow. 

He wouldn’t look at me. All he said was, “Sorry. I just think I need some space after…” 

He trailed off, never finishing the sentence. But I knew what he meant. 

“Okay.” I let him have what he wanted. 

 I could tell he was still shaken up by what had happened earlier, and he needed some space. I understood that. Everyone needs some space sometimes, especially after a traumatic event. Even so, all I wanted to do after was wrap my arms around him to make him feel safe. And to make me feel better. I wanted to hold him tight against me and listen to his heartbeat beneath his chest. I wanted to hear it beat forever to remind myself that he was okay. That he was safe with me. 

For a second there, I really thought he might have… I thought he was going to… 

A razor to the wrist, cold and sharp. 

No. He didn’t. Not like—

Stop it, Blaine.

Read more on AO3.

[dicingvision]

Descent: Chapter 7

Beats

Rating: Explicit

***

He steps off the bed and begins to undress himself in front of me at a painstakingly leisured pace. I have no other choice but to watch, the heat inside me lingering and growing sharper even in the absence of his touch. He twists around so I’m forced to watch his back as he reaches behind himself for the zipper on the back of his skirt. He knows where it is, I’m sure, but he fumbles for it like he’s forgotten. It’s a masterful performance. He takes his time to fasten his hold on it between his fingertips, as if it were a delicate matter that requires full attention. And then he drags down the pull tab of the zipper so slowly that I can hear the tiny clink of each individual metal tooth. 

For a moment, I forget how to breathe. He teases oh so well. He pulls his skirt down and steps out of it, one foot after the other, then neatly folds it and places it on the dresser. Anticipation builds inside me, makes me rock a little on the bed. At long last, he tucks his fingers over the band of his briefs. I watch eagerly, wanting him inside me as soon as possible. But he doesn’t take them off, instead tracing the waistband with those fingers I want back on me. 

“I wonder how long I could make you last like this,” he reflects.

I nearly roll off the bed to rip them off myself, even with the tied hands. 

“Kurt.”

“Yeah?”

“If you want me to come on your dick you have to get inside me first.”

Finally, he takes off the briefs and swiftly pops a condom on. He glances down at his boots. 

“You’re gonna have to hold on a bit longer for me. Usually takes a couple minutes to untie these.”

Jesus, he looks so hot in those. And I can’t wait a minute more.

“Keep them on.”

Read more on AO3.

[dicingvision]

Descent Chapter 9 spoilers no context

I’m dying to talk to him. Technically, I can, but I’m sensing a barrier between us I don’t know how to breach. It seems as if he wouldn’t really listen, and I need him to be actively listening when I finally tell him about the Obikin fanfiction I’ve started writing. I needed something to devote my energy to since losing my wedding planning obsession, and this was the next best thing. Not college work. School doesn’t distract like the fanfic does from whatever’s going on with Kurt.

I haven’t told anyone or shown anyone besides Sam, since he’s in the fandom already and revealed he’s been an avid fanfic reader for years. He’s been my number one fan on ao3, posting silly dad-like comments on every single chapter such as “Keep up the good work :)”. I’m glad for the support, though I’m surprised how much of it he’s enjoying given that there’s a lot of gay smut. I’ve politely not asked him about that, yet, though. 

I want to show it to Kurt, but I don’t know what he’ll say. He hasn’t even seen the prequels yet. That’s still on our bucket list of things to marathon since we barely got through five minutes of The Phantom Menace the first time we tried. And I doubt he’d sit with me on a couch to watch 6 hours and 53 minutes straight of anything right now.

[dicingvision]

Descent: Chapter 8

Spiral

***

“Damn, Kurt, your arms look amazing.” 

I smile. I’ve been getting that compliment a lot more over the past few months than I ever thought I would in my lifetime. And most of them come from Bryan. He’s become my hype man in stage combat.

“Thanks, Bryan. Yours aren’t so bad either.”

He laughs, flexing a bicep. The muscle must be the size of a toddler’s head. Mine aren’t nearly as big as his. At least, not yet. Maybe I’ll get there one day if I keep at my high-protein diet and exercise regimen. But Bryan’s muscles have been that big as long as I’ve known him—which hasn’t been that long. We met in Stage Combat class during the winter semester and immediately became “bros.” The professor kept pairing us up and it just happened. I never thought I’d have a “bro” like this. It seemed like something reserved for straight guys. But the guys at NYADA are more accepting of queer-straight friendships. It’s freeing in a way I’ve never known before. I think I’m still getting used to the radical acceptance of my new home.

“Thanks. I could show you how strong they really are if you’d let me pick you up.” He mimes encircling my waist in his massive arms. 

Ugh. I must admit I am getting a little tired of Bryan’s weird obsession with trying to pick me up. 

“Ha-ha,” is the only awkward response I have. I scoot out of his circle, grabbing my sword for practice. Advanced Stage Combat is so much more difficult than the pre-req, but I appreciate the challenge. 

“Seriously, Kurt. Let’s go out for a drink.” 

I eye him curiously. Is he serious? He wants to be friends outside the classroom? Excitement and terror briefly flare in my chest. It’s been hard making real friends at NYADA. The people here are so shallow. From the outside, it may look like I’ve got swarms of friendships given how many people stop to talk to me and compliment my work. But I know none of them actually care. All they really care about is themselves. I miss Rachel—even though she frequently puts herself over others—and Mercedes and Santana. At least Santana wore her bloodlust on her sleeve, unlike the people here who will be sweet to your face then stab you in the back. 

“You want to take this friendship beyond the classroom?” I ask dramatically. 

He stops twirling the sword and looks at me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. 

“I want it to be more than that.” 

Read more on AO3.

[dicingvision]

Descent: Chapter 5

1 Step/3 Steps

I glance over at the alarm clock: 10:32 AM. My shift today starts at noon. I’ll have to get up soon. But right now, I’m frozen in place because I’ve got a sleeping Blaine on my chest. It’s like when a cat decides to curl up on you—legally, you are not allowed to move. Eventually, I’ll have to. Eventually is so far away though. It’s eons. Right now, all there is in the world is Blaine’s barely audible breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. His head rises and falls as my own chest does, our breathing synced. Almost as if we are one body, one pair of lungs, one heart. 

My breaths are slow, relaxed. There’s no rush to take in air because I have all the air in the world. When the walls of my throat aren’t closing in, I don’t have to gasp for more. I savor every satisfying breath of it, all tinged with a hint of raspberries. The scent can never be removed from him, no matter how many showers he takes. And I wouldn’t want it to. Blaine and the fragrance of raspberries have become permanently intertwined in my head. You can’t have one without the other. 

I thread my fingers through his hair, twisting my forefinger round and round till a curl wraps around it. On mornings like these I get to see him without the gel—the man behind the mask, if you will. I’ve come to adore his hair, how full of life it is. The curls grow loose and springy between haircuts. I never realized how fast his hair grows. If only he’d let me enjoy the view for more than a few minutes before he rushes to slick it back. The curls move and bounce with him in their fleeting moments of freedom. I haven’t told him yet how much I love his natural hair—he’s so attached to his gel. Don’t get me wrong, I do still love his gelled look. It’s classic, old Hollywood handsome. My dream prince come true. Though I wonder how he became so obsessed with it in the first place. He can’t go a day without it. He stockpiles gel like canned food for an apocalypse. He’s such a weirdo. 

But he’s my weirdo. 

My fingers gently massage his scalp through all the hair. In his sleep, a little hum reverberates deep in his throat. The vibrations thrum against my skin, penetrate my chest. The sensation jumpstarts my heart into that familiar fluttery feeling. Butterflies. I try to look down to see if his expression will tell me what he’s dreaming about. At this angle, all I can see are his forehead, his eyebrows, the long fan of his eyelashes. What a handsome face he has. From what I can tell, his expression remains completely relaxed. Not a sign of stirring in sight. 

I can’t help but be jealous of him. How can he sleep so easily? For as long as I can remember, my sleep has been plagued by nightmares. Sometimes clear images, always familiar faces. Someone shouting, someone chasing. They know me too well for me to hide. They’re on my tail every time, weapon in hand or with their bare fingers, reaching out to get me. Words sharper than swords. My heart galloping in my chest, the breath stolen from my throat. Monsters haunting me. 

Both times Blaine moved in and started sleeping with me, the silly romantic in me thought the nightmares might stop. But as always, they come and go. I’ve had them since I was little, so I’m used to what’s routine by now: waking up a few nights every week in a cold sweat. They were about to get me, about to run me through or choke me with their bare hands. The worst nights are when I see Finn. He’s always cruel, always angry. He says things I try to forget but never can. He grabs me by the ankles with a viselike grip to pull me down into the grave with him. And I hate that this is the only version of him I can meet in sleep. Not my real brother. My hero.

Sometimes I wake up and forget it’s not real. I almost throw the sheets off and keep running—who knows where. But then the warmth of Blaine on my skin, the weight of his head on my chest, clears the panicked fog of sleep. A lighthouse in the storm. I’m back in my body, him cradled around me, anchoring me back in reality. Somehow he never wakes up. Miraculous. It’s better that way. I can watch his sleeping face, feel his unbroken breathing on my chest, and let the calm of his body seep back into mine until I can finally relax enough to get back to sleep. Last night, though, my brain stayed blissfully quiet the whole night. Not a single nightmare. I take it as another good sign. 

Read more on AO3 here.

[dicingvision]

I’ve finally achieved my dream of forcing two characters to sing an angst-filled rendition of the Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” at a karaoke bar 🤭 If only I wrote for TV, the power I would hold…

New chapter of Descent is out now! Read it here.

[dicingvision]

Chapter 2 is up now! Happy Thanksgiving :P

Today will be a better day. I can tell because when I wake up and Blaine isn’t in bed next to me, my first thought isn’t an irrational one wondering where he is or who he could be with. Vaguely, I remember waking up at the sensation of movement, then the soft press of his lips to my forehead: "I'm leaving for school. Go back to sleep, Kurt." He’s probably at his 8 AM lesson or out grabbing breakfast depending on what day it is. And today is… Thursday. That means he’s at his 8 AM voice lesson. The text from Blaine confirms it: “Just got out of my voice lesson. Good luck on your midterm! Love you :)”