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rockitmans · 1 year ago

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fic writer 20 questions - ask game

I was tagged by @bitbybitwrites, @special-bc-ur-part-of-it and @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion . Thank you my darlings 💖

tagging... probably a bunch of people that have already answered. @cerriddwenluna @heartsmadeofbooks @kurtsascot @backslashdelta

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

2. whats your ao3 word count?

134,215

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Only Glee/Klaine at the moment but I teeter enternally on the edge of writing for Red, White and Royal Blue

4. top 5 fics by kudos

Spinning Out (306) Blaine Anderson vs. Valentine's Day (221) Smart With Math, Stupid With Love (215) No Take Backs (166) Witch Wanted (161)

5. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Yes, although if I get distracted for even a second it will inevitably not happen. If things are out of sight they are out of mind 😅

I do like to reply because comments absolutely make my day so I wanna acknowledge that. Even if I'm just like "fanks 🤓", inside I'm screaming.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Witch Wanted has an ambiguous ending which can be read as angsty depending on how the reader interprets it. Personally I take the happy ending but either way the purpose of it is more about choosing to love each other through any challenge, however it ends up.

7. whats the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All the rest haha. I think Blaine Anderson vs Valentine's Day is the most straightforwardly light hearted fic. Smart With Math has the best progression. And No Take Backs is the most cathartic and hopeful.

8. do you get hate on fics?

No. I've had people disagree with some stuff like writing Kurt Hummel as a Slut in Spinning Out (he deserved a slut phase ok). Personally I always think the point of fiction is exploring other avenues for the characters but I don't mind if people disagree with that.

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Yes and as to what kind... The kind where sex happens?? Not sure haha. I guess I tend to write bottom Blaine with slightly subby undertones but y'know I've also written possessive top!Blaine and wall sex and soft sex with a lot of ~feelings~ so I'll try anything really as long as it doesn't squick me.

I also tend towards writing sex in a way that I think fits the fanfic mold rather than how I feel it strictly exists in reality. I don't think there's anything wrong with that though. The mold is good.

10. do you write crossovers? whats the craziest one youve ever written?

Nah. I'm writing a Red, White, Royal Blue AU currently but it's not a crossover in the sense that characters from the book will appear. I don't currently have any plans to write one but maybe.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No. I'm open to it but terrible at writing to a schedule so it would have to be a patient soul to put up with me. I've written to prompts and for art though which is a different kind of collaboration that I really enjoy.

14. fave all time ship?

Klaine but I had a pretty hefty Merthur era in my youth and they still have a special place in my heart.

15. wip you want to finish but doubt you will?

I kind of intend to finish all of them even if that's entirely unrealistic. Nothing is formally abandoned that I've written more than a few thousand words for because... sunk cost fallacy.

It's possible the fic I was writing for Back to School may fall by the way side. It was competing choir directors with a lot of dumb rivalry and banter which I do really enjoy but I'm struggling to structure the story.

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, humour and smut. At least comfort in writing those things - it's hard to judge the quality of your own work objectively.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Exposition, capturing any emotion other than pure stupidity, and getting the guy from one place to another.

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

Wouldn't do it personally, I would probably indicate a character was speaking another language within the prose rather than writing it out. But to be fair the only other language I speak is BSL which does not translate well to text 😝

I don't mind reading it as long as there's translation somewhere because your boy is lazy and doesn't wanna look stuff up

19. first fandom you wrote for?

If we're talking unpublished, it was a Jack/Ianto Torchwood fic. I think Jack was the first canonical queer man I encountered in media but I could be forgetting someone.

20. fave fic youve written?

Spinning Out is my baby and I the urge to write a sequel grows daily. I love the boys' dynamic in that fic.

But from a pure reread perspective it's probably Blaine Anderson Vs Valentine's Day. It's just light hearted silly fun and still makes me smile.

#ask games #sully posts

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justasmallbloginabigklainefandom · 10 months ago

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@just-a-dreamer-x replied to your post “@buddieunite replied to your post “@buddieunite...”:

Yue talking about Buddie on my dash? Sorry to barge in on your convo. Lmao that's how I felt when I started watching 911. I was like wait these guys don't get together?

FI!!!! You're one of the aforementioned Klaine-turned-Buddie blogs (because we gotta acknowledge every now and then that Dalten Academie is first and foremost a Klaine fanfic) SO YES I WAS SO CONFUSED.

#just-a-dreamer-x #also took me ages to distinguish between tarlos and buddie #please tell me tarlos is at least canon #replies #I KNOW YHEY'RE DIFFERENT SHOWS THATS WHAT I MEAN

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forabeatofadrum · 2 years ago

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Are there Friday memes like “It’s Wednesday my dudes” and “Out of Touch Thursday”? But anyway, it is another Friday and I did some fic reading. Yeehaw!

If you follow my personal blog, you see that I have finally watched Ted Lasso. I had been thinking about it for a while and then I saw that they did an episode at Het Homomonument in Amsterdam and also @quizasvivamos has started publishing Game of Two Halves, a Klaine-i-fied take on Ted Lasso. It’s a WIP and I can’t wait for more. No rush, Beth, but *rubs hand* I’ll be waiting.

@wetheformidables also published the last chapter of half the time, a Snowbaz Meet-Again-Cute. It was so good and I loved how Max wrote Simon and Baz’s POVs. And yes, Simon, it could’ve been worse. You could’ve seen him on the bus.

@caramelcoffeeaddict has also been teasing Seven Minutes To Heaven in their SSS/WW posts and it is finished and I read it! I am a sucker for Klaine being oblivious.

I am still reading the AU Please! fics. So many challenges to catch up on. I don’t think I ever read all the Klaine Advent and Carry On Countdown ones I wanted to read. So many fic, so little time. But I did read nobody knows the trouble i’ve seen (glory, hallelujah) by queenofthestarrrs which was not what I expected but it is a beautiful tragedy. Jack dies and Bitty can see his ghost. Johnson especially pointed out the tragedy by spelling out the What If that underlines this all.

I also read hold me like you’ll never let me go by @hullomoon. It was so sweet and of course both Jack and Holster would wear an orange puffer coat.

Lastly, I finally read Farewell, Aquarius by @tea-brigade, which is a Snowbaz Apollo 13 AU. I.... needed to lie down. Well, actually, I cried about it in the shower instead. I am woefully ignorant of the space race stuff. I, uh, genuinely didn’t know this Apollo 13 thing was a real thing. Yes, oops? Maybe this was a good thing, cause this story was entirely new for me and I was hooked.

In non-fic news, I have started A Marvellous Light by Freya Maske. I am only 80 pages in and it is, in my opinion, a slow start, but I do like it so far.

As usual, here are the tags on my personal blog, for if you want to browse:

Klaine fics (klfics)

Brittana fics (bsfics)

general Glee fics (glee fic)

Whoniverse fics (dw fic)

Check, Please! fics (omgcp fics)

Simon Snow series fics (co fics)

general fic tag (fics)

original writing tag (writing)

#fic rec friday #tagged in

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themarionette-theporcelaindoll · 1 year ago

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my dearest friend @rabbithearted tagged me to talk about my top 6 movies i watched in 2023! <3

poor things dir. Yorgos Lanthimos this one is the most recent movies that i have watched and LOVED. any modern adaptation of Frankenstein WISHES they could be this, women takes agency of her life and body. knowledge is power and knowledge is life and it's really cool in the sci-fi aspect and leans into it soooo well, lots more to say about this movie but im keeping it brief and also i can't articulate right now i am sooo sleepy

30 days of night dir. David Slade thought this movie was alright but wont say too much but the ending made me SOB (it reminded me of midnight mass)

the martian dir. Ridley Scott after so many years saying i was going to watch this movie, i finally did! had a movie night one night at my house and my friend brought this one up. such a beautiful movie, i cried TWICE. and again, sci-fi! jessica chastain *mwah*

jeepers creepers dir. Victor Salva part of the halloween movie marathoning i did with my siblings in october and out of all the movies we watched, this was my favorite! it's terrific, it's a classic and perfect for the spooky season (or any season really) love me some monster flicks and the jenner siblings were *twirls my hair*

rope dir. Alfred Hithcock i watched this one solo after having it in my to-watch list for so long! it was fantatstic visually, clever, loved the characters and the suspense. i'll have to watch more movies directed by alfred

polite society dir. Nida Manzoor this one was a brightly colorful and wonderfully choreographed movie to watch in the theaters, the cast was amazing, hilarious and energetic characters. the twist did lose me a bit towards the end tho

tag! you're it @akita-kira @ninjysworld @luvcall @steph-luvs-klaine @bowties-and-klisses @poweredbycreativityandcake @100dabbo @lethargix and anyone else who would like to share their fave movies this year! i wILL read it

#tag you're it #tag game #movies 2023 #about me

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bitbybitwrites · 2 years ago

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old story to possible Klaine fic - fantasy AU?

Do other writers do this?

I hit a bit of writer's block on my current WIP - so to kill time, I started rifling through really old writing files I found on my laptop.

Like REALLY REALLY old.

And I found the bit of a short story that I abandoned years ago and I'm thinking it might make an interesting Klaine fic.

Back in the day, there was a period where all I read was fantasy/sci-fi and, in particular: a book series edited by Marion Zimmer Bradley called Sword and Sorceress. It was such a favorite: each book was a compilation of short stories - all female characters in the leads, kicking ass with magic or swordplay - none of them had to be rescued; they were doing the rescuing.

(I used to own every single issue of the series but had to sell them years ago for some cash/ to make room in my bookshelves. I kind of regret that now bc they are no longer in print, I think)

Back in the day, the original piece was my attempt at writing a story to submit to the series. But I got discouraged and kind of talked myself out of finishing it - thinking the writing wasn't all that good.

Looking at it now, it's not that bad . . and I've thinking if I swapped out the female leads (sorry ladies) with the boys, it might be interesting?

Not sure where I'd take it - but maybe I'll share the very small part I did find - if nothing else for anyone else here to enjoy.

Anyone up for a story about mysterious tinker and a vagabond street urchin - both of them yearning for a place to belong all set in a fantasy AU?

#klaine fanfic writers #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #klaine fic #klaine #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #fanfiction #bitbybitwrites

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mikfos · 9 months ago

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I stole my best friends boyfriend

On being a bad friend, moving to America, and having a lot of sex

Growing up in Canada was wholesome. I was an innocent tween who lived in a house three minutes away from Grouse Mountain. There was a hidden path in my backyard that led directly to a forest- some scenes from New Moon were filmed there. I’d venture out after school or on weekends, and nonchalantly saunter around the woods before miraculously arriving at the place I knew I was headed towards. The tree was charred, barely standing, hollowed out on the inside from a lightning strike that had hit it years before. If I crawled into this tiny space off the side, I could sit in it and look up to the surrounding, lush, green trees, those which billowed over my near dead comfort space.

My priorities consisted of meeting up with my friends on club penguin and running a Klaine blog on tumblr. I did musical theatre and choir, I was on a competitive swim team and spent weekends snowboarding. It was that kind of childhood that kids now don’t really get to have. There was no tiktok or instagram, no pressure to dress a certain way. Those years in Vancouver were probably the most content of my childhood. Things changed when I moved to Oregon a few months after turning 13.

I was awed at as an ‘international’ student even though Vancouver was only 300 miles away. I remember my school urging me to read my blog posts to classes because I was kind of popping off on the internet at that time. I was a ‘successful child blogger’. A few months into my American teenage life, a girl from my school started a fan account for me. It was such a whirlwind. No one in Canada cared about who I was, and I frolicked around like weird, endearing child I was. Within days of starting middle school, it was all eyes on me. That, and I was exposed to things that stripped me of my innocence immediately.

My primary school in Vancouver was very tame, very granola. Before moving to America, the most extreme thing I’d done was hide behind the dumpsters at recess with my friends, whisper fuck, shit, and cunt, and then lose my mind giggling because we were cursing. At my new school in Portland, kids would walk through the halls reeking of weed. This one kid showed me a pipe on my first or second day, and it was such a shock to me. I got invited to hang with kids by the river and it would just be them doing drugs. There was ‘slap ass Fridays’, which is what it sounds like. I’d had silly little boyfriends in Canada at that point but it was more like, we would message on kik and plan to hug at recess the next day. Within 6 months of moving to Portland, I’d both had my first kiss, and had given my first blowjob.

I didn’t handle the new girl attention well. I performed as well as I could, but internally I was stubbing my toe through conversations not knowing the right thing to say, not having a filter. After school each day, I’d mull over each tiny social interaction, wondering where I was going wrong, why I felt so misplaced and misaligned with my peers.

Social interactions became a frightening and constant game. Even though this one was entirely new and foreign, and I didn’t know the rules, I’ve never been a person to concede. I could restart my trials on the ‘right’ ways to act when developing relationships with new people once I’d turned someone off.

Of course at the time I’d blame it on the other kids for not getting me- but no one stuck around. People seemed to be off-put by me. I made a couple friends, dated some guys, but none of it was substantial and I felt constantly insecure. The fear was either that they were with me because I was an easy, desperate option, or that I had intriguing labels placed on my person, which might make them seem cool for associating with me. I didn’t feel like anyone saw me as a real person, let alone cared what I had to say.

This was the beginning of the freak years, where I was an insane person to know or interact with, beginning age 13, and finishing around age 21.

In eighth grade, there was a new girl at my school. Eliza got the me six months prior treatment. She was pretty and got a lot of attention and we became fast friends. Our humor was entirely compatible. I’d spill the wackiest things in my brain and she seemed to understand entirely. She would say the weirdest shit too and it made perfect sense. We were made of the same stuff- pretty and popular on the outside, strange and turbulent on the inside.

For all the self doubt and shame I had from knowing I was a difficult pill to swallow, she made me feel seen and important. It’s like our brains were operating at the exact same frequency, our emotions about the world in perfect sync. She was the first real best friend I’ve ever had. Thirteen years of feeling like I had to say the right thing so that people would like me- I could say the wrong thing, and she’d still love me anyways. That’s the kind of soul stuff I wasn’t getting with peers, I wasn’t getting at home.

She taught me for the first time what it meant to find life more enjoyable when you experience it with someone. One time we found a pack of cigarettes on the ground and chain smoked them- then immediately rode the screaming eagle at Oaks park two times in a row just because we were 13 and we could. We wore each other’s clothes, we ate dinner with each other’s families, we prank called people, we thought all the same guys were cute, we loved listening to Ariana Grande and Kacey Musgraves and watching Dance Moms together. We sang together and recorded covers of Bon Iver songs and put them on Youtube. I hadn’t really sang at all since moving to the states.

Eliza had come to my middle school because of an incident that happened at her smaller, private Catholic school. Her involvement in that world introduced me to a whole new set of kids- I was only familiar with the public middle school population from my school, but once I became friends with Eliza, I met the more posh, more rich, more catholic-guilt ridden kids in my neighborhood. I ended up going to the catholic all girls private high school and Eliza went our neighborhoods public high school, so in a way we switched places.

She represented who I wanted to be, who I hoped I was. I was in an entirely unfamiliar landscape, had a new persona attached to me as some clouted up Canadian girl, even though that felt fraudulent and misplaced. She had to switch schools and still kept her head up. I knew what she was struggling with, but at school she was just likable and a cool girl. Beautiful and talented, strong. So fun to be around, finding the humor in everything.

So when high school came around and she began doing things like smoking weed, hanging with ‘weird girls’, I began to judge her. And then we stopped hanging as much. It’s funny I was being so critical of her smoking weed, while I was being outrageously promiscuous, because those things are in similar camps of things kids do which are intended for adults.

I’d look at her social media posts and experience tremendous loss, though at the time it felt something like pity and confusion. When did that stop, that need to be together? There was no ending or fight, there was simply one day we were best friends, and the next day we weren’t. Could circumstances really be so irrevocable- we went to different schools and made different friends, so our friendship wasn’t compatible anymore? Perhaps she never felt as connected as I did, and she was glad to be rid of me. Perhaps I was too afraid to maintain something real because it would prevent me from distracting from the swelling frenzy inside.

You know when someone asks you what’s your biggest regret in life?

There was this guy. He was in that rich kid catholic school world that Eliza had always been in, so she introduced us at some point. Andrew lived two blocks away from me and was cute and funny and popular. He wore Golf Wang and rode around on a skateboard. As far as I was concerned, he was the most dripped out boy in all of Southeast Portland.

Andrew had a will they won’t they with Eliza. He was always a guy she spoke about with a reverence. There were the guys she didn’t like, and the guys she liked. Andrew was the main one.

So I respected it. I talked to her about him throughout our friendship, even though it was harder once I’d met the guy. I completely understood why she was so down bad. He was the best my neighborhood had to offer for potential crushes. He was that guy. My two blocks away neighbor, and I ended up going to an all girls school. Similarly to my friendship with Eliza, I developed a friendship with Andrew that just made sense. We shared that nonsensical, unsettling sense of humor and quirkiness that you really only find in other neurodivergent people.

Will they won’t they- they did. Eliza loved Andrew, like really loved him. He was her first love. They didn’t just casually date. I knew this, and I was supportive of them. But I don’t remember being around it that much because it happened and ended by the time we were at different high schools.

I was still friendly with Eliza. We saw each other around, we’d spend afternoons together in our neighborhood with other kids, but my social world had expanded greatly into my freshman year. The two of us never had some inexplicable ending to our friendship, we just weren’t in the same spaces anymore. That once undeniable, 24/7 bond we had at all times had been severed.

In the last month of my freshman year, I visited my old friends in Vancouver. We all went to a party and got drunk and I was transported back in time, though this time with my newly acquired American rebelliousness. Hilariously, much of the trip was spent going to second base with one of my own will they wont theys. I’d briefly dated him in grade seven, after he played Grampa Joe opposite my Charlie Bucket in our school’s production of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Less hilariously, he had also dated my best friend from Canada, whom I was staying with. I was such a mess.

I walked through my old neighborhood when I visited, but I didn’t go to my backyard forest. When I was a kid, sitting in that tree, most of the time inside it was spent picking at the pieces of bark inside it. I’d rub the wood between my fingers and they’d be dyed by the soot from the charred wood. I soiled a lot of my clothes that way.. wiping my fingers on my pants or my shirt.

The day I was meant to leave, I got lunch at White Spot with aforementioned Canadian best friend, Sexy Grampa Joe, and another one of our friends. Then we all hung out in a playground while I waited for my step dad to pick me up. Grampa Joe and I peeled off from the others, unable to keep our hands off each other. We’d be making out and hiding in one of those slides or platforms, and this pounding, painful reminder of time kept hitting me. I was kissing him to stop myself from crying. I didn’t want to go back to Portland. I liked Vancouver better, I wanted to be there with my old friends. I was hypothesizing how possible it would be to date Grampa Joe long distance, when I could visit again, or if I could convince my parents to move back. I cried on the way home.

Then it was summer, and it was back to my life in Portland. I was going to be a sophomore in the fall.

At the time I’d attributed my promiscuity to being hyper-sexual, which was true, but I was also filling my space with boys to distract from my daddy issues. My family issues in general, my confusion about who I was supposed to be. At night I’d feel so empty, so I’d watch Gossip Girl until I fell asleep to prevent myself from processing too much of it.

I made friends with groups from other schools and homie hopped in every one of them. I lost my virginity and made out with guys I knew other girls liked. There were a dozen unopened snapchats from different boys at any given moment. One in particular thought we were dating even though I was doing all these other shenanigans. I remember him telling me he was heartbroken because of my behavior (re: finding out about all the other boys). It was confusing because I couldn’t understand why he didn’t see life as fun as I did, and we barely even hung out. I couldn’t really keep track of the amount of boys I was talking to, crushing on, or hanging out with. There was a new #1 every week.

It was summer 2014, and that was the vibe I was on. I was a tornado of chaos, I flirted with everyone, and had zero fucks to give about anything. I was listening to Flume, Lorde, and Childish Gambino. I was going out and drinking all the time, sleeping on football fields, smoking cigarettes and taking sexy pictures. I’d leave my iPad at the friends house I lied I was staying at, so my parents could track me and see I was where I said I was going to be. Then spend the night at some boys house instead, after going to a party with juniors and seniors.

Life and relationships were my playground, and I was high on playing. I saw the opportunity to flirt and dance and live in every person, in every plan, every party. Experiencing everything possible out in the world was the only way I could outweigh the hatred I felt at home.

If my behavior that summer was any indication, I wasn’t really in a place to treat myself with respect, let alone the people around me. I was wearing American Apparel babydoll dresses, smoking cigarettes and drinking bubble tea before parties at some rich kids house. Eliza was hanging with people I deemed ‘lame’, because I had become popular and self-righteous, too caught up in my own idea of what was cool, and judging her for her lifestyle choices. For all I knew, she was smoking weed and doing drugs in the forest with the randoms from her public school. I was weirded out by what I heard about her, I thought she had changed. I wasn’t a good friend anymore, too caught up in my own tornado to check in with her and connect.

Andrew was adjacent to the things I felt I represented- he went to another catholic private school, and he embodied a truly Kyle from Ladybird vibe with a cool instagram. I’d always admired his aesthetic and how I felt I looked when we walked through our neighborhood together.

We were just friends that summer, it was entirely innocent. As we became closer, the crush was there, but I had crushes on tons of guys. I didn’t mean for it to happen. Andrew and his friends and I would walk to the store and get sodas. We’d set off sparklers in front of the mansions in our neighborhood and they’d skate away while I chased them, phone out, recording everything for Vine. I laughed so much when I was with him, and it wasn’t even about how deeply I crushed on him. I loved the convenience. We’d text to make plans, and since he lived 2 minutes away we could hang within minutes.

One day I went to Andrews house, around the end of that summer, and we watched a movie in his basement. We were lying on our stomachs, looking up at the TV. That anticipatory tension filled the air, and my body was heavy and light at the same time. I knew it was coming.

He turned his head towards me and I turned my head towards him, and we inched towards each other. Kissed. It was sweet, soft.. and then it picked up, and turned into something more passionate. A new level of kissing for me, like there was an explosion in my chest and I clung to him in the aftershock. Pure electricity hitting me in my core. Maybe it was because all summer I was hooking up with random guys because I could, and then there was this guy who I’d fantasized about for so long and genuinely liked who was kissing me like he meant it. And it was wrong.

Was Eliza my best friend at that moment in time? Not really. I still cared about her but we’d fallen out of orbit, barely seeing each other towards the end of that summer. Eliza and Andrew weren’t together anymore. I knew she thought I stole him, from things other kids said to me. We never discussed it though. I could’ve argued that wasn’t technically true, but it was the principle. I was doing something unforgivable.

He was that guy for her, I knew it. That sort of thing doesn’t change- I would know, because he was it for me too. I was actively doing something wrong, which made it that much more exciting. Doing something forbidden, and the guilt and horror mixed with the thrill and excitement. The sizzling superiority in being chosen, it was an overdose of energy.

Andrew and I had a conversation about Eliza early on. I think it was something about how she’s gone off the deep end, we can’t help her now, and we’re in such a better place in life. Lol. I remember us discussing cocaine and the possibility of her doing it, because she was friends with someone who had done cocaine. Which is why our betrayal of her was valid? I don’t remember. Something foolish like that, a copout to compensate for how forbidden it felt.

It’s absurd to reflect on this, that we were speculating and giving reasons that would justify doing it. As if it was okay to date him because she was on some sort of moral decline, despite the fact that Andrew and I were both the problem children of our respective households, and doing things that 15 year olds definitely should not have been doing.

Andrew and I were together for most of our sophomore year. I had lost my virginity to another guy earlier that summer but it was more of a half-virginity, we didn’t have complete, satisfying sex. Andrew and I were fucking. All the time. It was kinky, porn inspired, all over the place. Not a month into my relationship with him I went on birth control, and then it was a free for all. Sex with him consumed my mind, and when we weren’t physically together, I was itching to get back to him. This is probably where my sex addiction started.

I spent a good amount of time at his school watching him play basketball. He spent a good amount of time in my basement fucking me on the couch my family sat and watched TV at. His family was ultra Catholic, and when him and his church friends went to mass, I’d wait for him to get back. One time, his mother came to my house to inquire my mother about our sex life. One time, we snuck into his best friends house when no one was home to have sex in his living room because it would be funny. Everything about us was risky because we could, because we were the same brand of impulsive and deranged.

Andrew introduced me to the concept that boys could be interesting. Before him, I perceived boys my age as, at best, attractive objects I could kiss that say nothing of value. He had one of those intense personalities, someone with a million things to say, unpredictable, hilarious, raunchy and edgy, and I could be as weird as I wanted and he didn’t care. It worked for a few months, and then as it does when two unstable people are together, it turned into a clusterfuck of fighting and clinging onto a previous feeling. I couldn’t focus in class because of the ridiculous text fights we were getting into.

When we broke up, I cried and begged him to not break up with me. I’m pretty sure I broke up with him as an impulsive, desperate test to see if he would fight for us, and then he agreed we should break up, and I backpedaled and begged him to take it back. It was so devastating for like 2 weeks. And then I heard he went and hooked up with Eliza immediately after, which I guess I deserved.

A few months ago, I was sitting around with some friends at one of their apartments. Someone asked the room what’s your biggest regret, and the Eliza Andrew situation popped into my head, without a second thought. These friends have only known me in my adult life. I’ll tell them stories of how I used to be, but I don’t think it fully registers. I was so wildly different from how I am now, that maybe it sounds exaggerated. Now 25, I spend a majority of my nights at home in my pajamas writing, or watching TV with my friends. I’m guarded and jaded. I avoid clubs and bars, and when I go to parties, I tend to find a couch or a corner of the room and stay there.

It happened a decade ago, but it still comes up at random. It was my answer to that question months ago. Do I think it’s the most evil thing a teenage girl could’ve done? Not really, it’s the exact kind of thing that stupid kids do to each other. Yet… it’s this massive hole in my lore, a time where I did something super cruel to the one person who deserved it least. The guilt has been slowly growing since it happened and it continues to creep up on me to this day.

Why did I do to do that? Why didn’t I stop myself? These are massive question marks in my brain. It doesn’t matter that time’s gone by or that Eliza and I are still friends. I did it and I can’t shake it. It left something in me, raw and dried up. Some might say it’s my canon event.

I wish I say I’ve had such an effortless friendship since, but I haven’t. I love my friends, I feel so lucky to be surrounded by the people I am these days. Eliza, though, was the only time where it was like, 100% of everything in life was with her. Nothing has felt quite like that, quite so beautiful and fun. It could be adulthood and responsibilities getting in the way, but there was something so once in a lifetime about that kind of friendship where everything was together- getting on the bus for school, snickering in class, hanging out after school, going to outings and discussing after, sleepovers, consuming the same media, recording Youtube videos, giving each other those looks in groups, texting constantly when we weren’t together, wearing each others clothes. Singing together took such a vulnerability from me especially. There’s one song by Ariana Grande I still can’t listen to because we used to sing it all the time together, me on the guitar and her on the ukulele.

She was hurt by what I did, though she never directly confronted me. When it happened, she posted a photo on her private instagram of her and Andrew, the caption about how he was stolen from her. Years later, when she allowed me to follow it again and I stalked the old post, I found that one and sobbed my eyes out. One of those moments where you’re saying stupid stupid stupid over and over in your head.

I apologized at some point after, but we were changed. It was stilted and awkward. I still feel the urge to say I’m sorry a thousand more times. That song is still muted on spotify and seeing photos of us still hurts me. It’s a living breathing reminder of how empty and destructive I was, and what my first real friendship felt like. That was the beginning of the end of me, being a wholesome child. My uncontrollable, sexual depravity took the front seat, and joy and connection thrown out the window. I lived like that for eight years.

The emotional economy of that situation is what left me broke in the end. Real, authentic friendships are rare. Sexual relationships can be fulfilling within minutes of introduction. As an imprudent child with emotional issues, there is much less to be desired in having a long term, slowly building friendship than an instantly gratifying romance with a guy that’s proving wrong your insecurity that you’re unworthy.

Eliza will always hold an important place in the story of my childhood. I’ll always be one of those people for her too, though in her story I’m one that hurt her, and that’s so devastating to me. I had such a good thing and ruined it. I can write this essay and talk to her about the situation years later with wisdom and maturity, but it’s not going to undo what was done, so I’ve had to accept that. I literally still tell myself, no, you were a kid, you couldn’t have known better. Something inside me is still dissapointed in myself for doing that. The fleeting months I spent with Andrew vs. with Eliza are unquantifiable, but there was no way I was going to know that as a child. That’s what I tell myself when I remember I've met interesting men since, men that are passionate and fulfilling since, but still haven’t found a friend I feel comfortable singing with.

I’d tell a younger version of myself not to have done it, to stay away from him in general, but I don’t think she would have listened. When you’re a kid, nothing is going to stop you. There is no older version of yourself inside you to show you what will happen. You have to make the mistake. And then you have to sit with it years later.

#writing #essay #growth

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sunshineoptimismandangels · 7 years ago

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Blind Dates and Other Misunderstandings (A Klaine Fic)

Pairing: Klaine Status: WIP with daily updates Chapter: 1 of 4 For: The wonderful @miasswier Beta: My dear friend @theatrevicki Summary: This is for miasswier who prompted: Kurt and Blaine's parents were all friends in college and ever since Kurt and Blaine came out they've been trying to push them to get together because they just really want to be in-laws. FF.net | AO3 Part 2

August

“Kurt, it is good to try new things.” Burt’s arms were crossed over his chest and he wore a serious expression as he watched his son move around the kitchen. “I know that dad.” “That’s right.” Carole chimed in, “You don’t know if you’ll like something until you try it.” Kurt shot his Dad and Stepmom a long-suffering glance as he took the pot roast out of the oven; they’d been going around and around on this subject for the last 20 minutes. And honestly, it wasn’t the first time it had been brought up by Burt and then subsequently shot down by Kurt. “I don’t know about that. I knew I wasn’t into girls without needing to try.” Burt shook his head and grabbed a bottle of beer from the refrigerator, “That’s different.” “You insist you wouldn’t like calamari even though you refuse to try it,” Kurt continued, lifting the lid to the roast and letting the steam and delicious scent hit his face. “Kurt, you’re talking about squid and-” “And Carole.” Kurt pulled off his oven mitts and turned towards her, she was watching him with an amused smile, “You know full well you should never… I don’t know… dye your hair jet-black! You don’t need to try it to find out.” Burt just let out a frustrated huff and sat down at the kitchen table with his beer. “Actually, I did die my hair black once, as a teenager,” Carole said, “It was a bad idea.” “Oh my god. I have to see pictures!” Burt cleared his throat to get the attention back to the matter at hand, “Don’t try and change the subject Kurt.” The subject was an old one, and it really felt like beating a dead horse at this point. How many times had his father brought up Blaine Anderson throughout the years? Blaine Anderson, the son of Ian and Pamela Anderson, old college friends of Burt and Elizabeth. They all met attending Ohio State back in ‘87 and were fast and inseparable friends. Blaine and Kurt had played together as very young children and their parents remained friends though the years – even through the Andersons’ move to Connecticut and Elizabeth’s death, they always stayed in contact; they’d even come to town for Elizabeth’s funeral. Now, the Andersons had moved back to Ohio and the old debate was brought up again. Blaine Anderson was a young gay man. Kurt was a young gay man. Even though they hadn’t seen each other since they were children, before either of them were even out, obviously, they must be perfect for each other. “Maybe that saying wasn’t appropriate in this situation.” Carole walked over to Burt and squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, showing him they were in this fight together. “What I meant was, you don’t know if you’ll like Blaine or not because you haven’t even taken the time to meet him.” “I don’t know why you are so invested in this blind date Carole,” Kurt said, trying not to smile. He wasn’t about to give up any ground on this matter, but he liked going toe-to-toe with Carole; she was surprisingly fiery. “The Andersons aren’t old college friends of yours.” Kurt was plating the pot roast on a nice platter now, arranging the carrots, potatoes and onions artfully around it. “No, but I’ve met Ian and Pamela on several occasions and I adore them. Pamela is a gem. And everything I hear about their son makes him seem like he’d be the perfect match for you.” “See!” Burt said, lifting his beer triumphantly, “I told you.” “But you haven’t met him yourself,” Kurt countered, bringing the food to the table as Carole took her seat. “I’ve met him Kurt,” Burt said, “And I’ve known the Andersons for over three decades. Don’t you trust my judgement?” “Of course I do.” Kurt was trying to think of a way to nip this idea in the bud without offending his father – who really did mean well. “I trust both of you, except for when it comes to setting me up. What you consider ‘perfect for me’ usually just means gay… and lives in New York. End of the list. Your criteria stops there. Remember Hunter?” Carole cleared her throat uncomfortably and his dad had the decency to break eye contact with him. Hunter was Kurt’s ace in the hole, and by far the worse date he’d been on in his 25 years of life. He was the son of a co-worker of his father’s, and the rudest most homophobic gay man Kurt had ever met. The only thing Kurt got out of that interaction was a chilling story to tell when people talked about the worst dates they’d ever been on. Burt didn’t have an immediate response to that. Instead, he started cutting into the pot roast, serving Carole and then Kurt. Kurt tried to hide his smirk; he may have just won this argument. “Okay… Hunter was a mistake, but I remember Blaine as a kid.” Burt looked up at Kurt with determination, “He was sweet and good-natured; he wore bowties at five-years-old, Bud.” Burt emphasized that last part as if it made his entire case, and Kurt wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the idea of a little five-year-old kid running around in a bowtie was pretty adorable. “You two played together and got along so well!” “I don’t really remember much about him though,” Kurt argued, “All I remember was him taking the toy transformers we were playing with away from me before they even had a chance to have a tea party.” “You’re remembering that wrong,” Burt said, cutting his roast with a little too much gusto, “Cooper –Blaine’s big brother – was the one always taking toys away from you. Blaine was a sweet kid.” Kurt paused, chewing a bite of the delicious, if he did say so himself, pot roast he’d made. “Okay, you’re right, I remember that now.”

Cooper was considerably older than both Blaine and Kurt and teased them endlessly. If Kurt remembered correctly, Blaine actually stood up to Cooper for his sake once or twice. “I am not trying to set you up with Cooper Anderson, he always reminded me of Eddie Haskell…” Kurt couldn’t believe it, but his resolve was wavering slightly. He did remember Blaine a little better now, and a boy who wore bowties and didn’t make fun of Kurt when he wanted to have tea parties with their transformers – instead of having them battle like most little boys would – seemed like someone who might have turned out alright. Carole must have sensed an opening because she took that moment to go in for the kill, “Besides, Kurt,” she smiled pleasantly as if she wasn’t sharpening a knife to plunge into Kurt’s back, “When was the last time you went on a date with anyone?” Kurt stabbed a carrot with his fork and narrowed his eyes at Carole, “Touché.” “Then you’ll meet him?” Burt was overly enthusiastic about this in Kurt’s opinion. “Just for coffee, and if you hit it off, you can meet up again when you are both back in New York. And if you don’t, hey, the Big Apple is a huge place, you never have to see each other again.” “Fine.” Kurt shook his head, unable to believe he was giving in so easily. “One date, just for coffee.” Carole actually clapped her hands in excitement, “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Pam!” “We could be in-laws!” “Oh my god! It’s just one date!” Kurt said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. What had he just agreed to? Meeting up with a guy his dad had wanted him to date for years? That was too much pressure. God, this was already a mistake. ___________________________________________________________

“And from what I hear, he loves musicals and fashion, just like you.” Pamela Anderson stood in Blaine’s childhood room with him, talking a mile a minute, as he got ready for his blind date. “Ah, a gay man who lives in New York and loves musicals and fashion. What a rare find.” “Don’t be like that. I really think you’ll like him.” “Mom, I know you like the Hummels, but just… don’t get your hopes too high, okay? I’m happy to meet Kurt, but I can’t promise anything will come of it.” “I know. I know. But… it’s the Hummels. I’ve always wanted to be related to the Hummels. And Carole? Maybe I haven’t know her as long as Burt, but when dear Elizabeth passed away…” Pam was quiet for a moment and Blaine waited for her to compose herself, “I never thought I’d see Burt so happy and full of life again,” she said softly and then smiled, “No man could have done better raising a son all on his own, but Carole has brought Burt back to life.” “That’s really sweet, Mom,” Blaine said honestly. “Still doesn’t mean Kurt and I are - what are you doing?” Blaine stopped midsentence, noticing his mother laying out a selection of bowties on his dresser. “Helping you decide what to wear.” “Mom! I’ve been dressing myself since I was four and you wanted to put me in denim overalls and I felt more comfortable in a sweater vest.” “I just want you to look extra nice.” “I’m wearing this,” Blaine said, looking down at his outfit--boat shoes, nice jeans and a purple button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “I picked it out last night with my coffee date in mind.” “Blaine. You have to dress up more than that!” “It’s coffee.” “It’s Kurt Hummel! And you only have one chance at a first impression.” Blaine groaned, knowing this wasn’t worth arguing over with his mother. “You don’t have to be at the Lima Bean until 10:30am. You have time to change.” “Fine. That one.” Blaine said pointing to a canary yellow bowtie with thin purple stripes. “Let’s do this.” 40 minutes later, Blaine parked his mother’s car haphazardly in front of the Lima Bean. Pam had failed to mention that her car was nearly empty, and Blaine would have to fill it up before he could get anywhere, so he was running a little behind and kicking himself for it. He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time--10:38am, he winced – being late for a blind date was a bad start. He flew into the coffee shop, the little bell above him chiming, and scanned the room. He didn’t actually know what Kurt Hummel looked like, so he had to hope that he’d see some guy his age sitting alone and-

Blaine’s breath caught in his throat. A man, that he prayed to god was Kurt Hummel, was sitting at a small table near the window on his own and looking around as if waiting for someone. He. Was. Breathtaking. Holy fucking hell. Blaine was glad he’d listened to his mom and changed clothes. Though his black jeans, purple polo, yellow and purple bowtie and complementing cardigan still looked subpar compared to the Greek god sitting nearby with crossed legs and tapping his perfectly polished bluchers in the air. He was in black slacks and a white shirt with a form fitting back vest, the collar of the shirt was left partially open to allow room for a perfectly executed silk cravat – But none of that compared to the actual man. Long graceful neck, beautiful skin, an expression that immediately indicated intelligence, hair so expertly styled Blaine had only ever seen the likes of it in magazines, and sharp blue eyes that landed on Blaine with a perfect up-tilt of an eyebrow. His expression left Blaine frozen to the spot for half a second longer than necessary. Blaine shook himself, trying to come to his senses, as he smiled at the man and walked forward. “Kurt? Kurt Hummel?” Blaine held out his hand and the man looked at it for a moment as if he didn’t want to take it before he mustered the tiniest of perfunctory smiles and shook Blaine’s hand. “Yes, I’m Kurt. You must be Blaine.” Kurt looked him over, eyes stopping at his bowtie for a beat before moving on. Blaine straightened the tie self-consciously and he took a seat across from Kurt. “We finally meet. Or meet again,” Blaine said cheerfully, trying hard not to show the effect Kurt was having on him--increased heart-rate, overly warm skin, the slight edgy tickle in his throat that made it hard to talk--“My parents have wanted this to happen for years.” “Mine too.” “Can I get you something to drink?” Blaine asked, stomach turning over a bit, and he was actually nervous now; he suddenly really wanted this to go well. Kurt lifted his brow at the coffee cup Blaine hadn’t noticed on the table, “I’ve been here a while.” “Oh… I…” Blaine rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little foolish, “I’m so sorry. I had to get gas in the car, and I didn’t mean to be late. I would have texted but I don’t have your number.” Kurt just nodded coolly and Blaine was beginning to think he was missing something here. “Um, do you need a refresher? I’m going to grab myself something.” Kurt sighed and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Listen, Blaine, you seem… nice enough, but clearly neither of us wants to be here, so we don’t actually have to keep this up.” “Wait... what?” Blaine was definitely missing something because he’d been excited about this date, even more so after seeing Kurt, so why was Kurt being so cold? “Kurt, I do want to be here.” Blaine smiled at him; he knew from years of experience that even the grouchiest of people softened at his smile. Cooper called it Blaine’s secret weapon, “That and your damn puppy eyes, Squirt. You can’t just unleash both on someone unawares! It isn’t right!” Blaine wasn’t going full-on puppy eyes, but he did know how to play to his strengths, “Kurt, we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot.” Keep smiling, he will eventually smile back! “And I’m very sorry that I’m late. Can’t we start over again?” Kurt narrowed his eyes as if thinking it over, “A non-fat mocha.” “A non-fat mocha?” “I could use another coffee, if you’re still offering.” There was just the slightest upturn to Kurt’s lips that made Blaine hope for a true smile soon. He bet Kurt had a gorgeous smile. “It would be my pleasure,” Blaine said, getting up from the table and hoping things were going to get easier from this point on. Kurt was an enigma--he couldn’t read him at all--but Blaine was very interested in figuring him out. He glanced back at Kurt a few times while waiting in line. Kurt had gotten out his phone and seemed to be texting someone – either that or playing Candy Crush. Kurt was going to be harder to win over than Blaine had imagined, but Blaine always liked a challenge. He got back to the table with a coffee cup in each hand and sat down just as Kurt stood up from the table. “I’m sorry,” Kurt said, taking the mocha, “But I’m going to have to go.” Blaine laughed a little, “What? Not really.” “I just got a text from an old friend I didn’t know was in town and I never get to see her.” “I… okay, but...” “I’ll pay you for the coffee,” Kurt said, pulling out his wallet. “I don’t care about the coffee, Kurt. I just got here… and you’re leaving?” Kurt huffed, “Oh, are you going to lecture me on the value of your time? Because I’m the one that’s been waiting for you.” Blaine honestly couldn’t keep up with what was happening; it was like a smack of cold water in his face after looking forward to this date. Kurt Hummel was nothing like he expected. “Wow,” Blaine said, standing as well, eager to get out of there. “Wow?” “Yeah, just wow.” Kurt rolled his eyes, tossing a five-dollar bill on the table, “Well, I guess we can tell our parents we tried and it didn’t work.” “Guess so,” Blaine said coolly and watched as Kurt sauntered away. And damnit why did his ass have to look so good when he did that? Blaine was angry at him for crying out loud! Blaine waited, watching Kurt from the window until he pulled out of the parking lot, before exiting himself, leaving the five dollars on the table for the barista. ___________________________________________________________ “My god, Mercedes, he was so... so insufferable!” Kurt flopped down on her bed, kicking his shoes off. “And rude and arrogant and insufferable.” “You said that already.” “And okay, maybe I was a little stand-offish when he first got there, but he was an hour late! I was on time. I was there was there at 9:45am. And he just strolls in with this… this… smile and the bowtie! Ugh! As if he could just smile at me and get away with anything!” “What about his bowtie?” Kurt ran his hands through his hair, Mercedes beside him on the bed in the Jones’ guest room--the room that used to be Mercedes’s as a teenager. “And I was going to give him a second chance because it would make my dad happy, and because of the tea parties, and the smile, but then you texted!” “Tea party? I thought you were meeting him for coffee?” “I was! But he just barely shows up and then gets mad at me when I have to leave to see you. If he hadn’t been late we could have already had an hour to talk before you texted.” “You didn’t have to leave right then, Kurt,” Mercedes said, tugging on his shirtsleeve to get his attention. Kurt looked up at her and then scooted until he was sitting by her side, backs against the headboard. “I was already wary of meeting up with him in the first place. I mean blind dates are the worse and there was so much pressure for us to get along. And then I waited for him for nearly an hour, getting more and more nervous. I thought he’d stood me up, Mercedes. I’ve never been stood up!” “Who would dare.” “I guess when you texted me, I saw an out from an awkward situation and took it.” “Without giving him a chance.” “I gave him an hour.” “He had to have a reason for being so late. I mean, he did show up and bought you coffee and apparently there was some kind of smile that was significant? Do you think… maybe you bailed prematurely?” Kurt looked down to his lap, already feeling embarrassed by his earlier behavior. “No.” Mercedes nudged him with an elbow. Kurt sighed, leaning his head back on the headboard, “Maybe.” “You were offended and disappointed--I get that – but you were obviously at least a little excited about this date.” “I wasn’t.” Mercedes took a long look at Kurt’s outfit, the one he’d spent over an hour that morning putting together, “A little?” “Fine,” Kurt admitted, “I didn’t want to go at first, but the more I thought about it, the more excited I got. I do remember him from growing up a bit. I liked him. But we were just kids and that isn’t an indicator of who he is now.” Mercedes didn’t say anything, but he could feel her disagreeing beside him. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I blew it. Or he blew it. Or maybe we both did.” “It’s okay, Kurt; there are plenty of fish in the sea. And you, Kurt Hummel, are quite the catch yourself.”

Kurt gave Mercedes a small smile and a peck on the cheek. “I love you ‘Cedes.” “I know. Now you have to tell me what was going on with the smile and the bowtie …was it good? …Was it bad?” “It was… he was adorable, Mercedes. Adorable and still somehow as hot as hell.” Kurt sighed and leaned his head on the headboard. “Oh poor Kurt.” ___________________________________________________________ “I don’t even know what happened Coop,” Blaine paced the patio in his parents’ backyard, iPhone pressed against his ear, “It was like he was ready to bite my head off the moment I got there.” “How late were you?” Cooper said over the line, the sound of waves and seagulls in the background.

“Not even ten minutes! And I know that is still late, but he’d already written me off before I even sat down.”

“Well, then that is that. You tried, it didn’t work, end of story. The parents will just have to stop dreaming of Anderson-Hummel grandbabies.”

Blaine groaned over the phone. “Mom is going to be so disappointed.”

“They were putting too much pressure on you.”

“Why are you being so wise and supportive right now Cooper? You’re creeping me out.”

“Oh ha ha. I just don’t like to see you stressed, Squirt. You have to let this go.”

“I am letting it go. I’ve let it go. It’s gone.”

“Uh huh…”

“It’s just that I don’t get it! I’m a likable guy right? People typically like me.” Blaine ran his hand through his thick curls and tried to get the picture of Kurt’s stunning, but clearly not interested, face out of his head.

“Yes Blaine, you are a likable guy. People like you. You could win a likable contest.”

“Now you’re just being sarcastic.”

“Why is this bothering you so much?”

Blaine didn’t answer right away, peeking his head to look through the sliding glass door and make sure his mom wasn’t home yet; he wasn’t ready to face her.

“Oh god. I get it now,” Cooper said after a moment of silence.

“Get what?”

“He was sexy wasn’t he?”

“Cooper.”

“He was! He was sexy and got you all hot and bothered.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“Squuuuuirt.”

Blaine blew out a deep breath, “He was hot, okay? Happy now?”

Cooper laughed on the other end of the phone. “How hot was he?”

“Stupidly gorgeous,” Blaine admitted, wishing he could pinpoint what went wrong that morning so he could go back and fix it.

“Awww, poor little Squirt,” Cooper cooed, but it sounded like he was about to laugh again. “Soon you’ll be back in New York and maybe he won’t seem as hot. He was probably just Lima hot.”

Blaine shook his head in disagreement, Cooper was wrong about that, “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I’m glad you’re out there looking, though. Actually, I have someone in New York I might be able to set you up with.”

“Yeah… I think I’m done with blind dates for a while.” Blaine shuddered and looked back into the house as he heard the front door open and close. “Gotta go break the bad news to mom now.”

Cooper laughed again. “Don’t tell her you thought he was attractive, it will break her heart.”

“Goodbye, Cooper,” Blaine said, hanging up before his brother could say anything else. It really wasn’t that bad. Kurt was just one guy, one very beautiful guy. Now to break the news to his parents.

#klaine prompt #dribble drabble #my fic #klaine fi

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