Author Spotlight: controlofwhatido day 4
Reccing other peopleās fics is a tough gig. But here are three gorgeous fics to read if you havenāt yet!
This was almost impossible for me. There are so many great fics that I love, itās so hard to choose! Iāve been reading Klaine fic for years at this point, Iāve read thousands of fics Iām sure. I went with a few that I tend to go back and reread over and over again. If I listed all of my favorites, we would be here for a while!
Lovesong by andiheardeverything
I actually just finished rereading this for theā¦ 6th? 7th? time? Itās one of those ones that breaks my heart and puts it back together throughout the whole fic. Since I care for my mom who has severe MS, this story always hits home for me with how Kurt cares for Blaine, especially in the beginning. I love, love, love this fic so much I highly recommend it to everyone. Donāt let the angst or the idea of Blaine being hurt scare you away, their journey together through Blaine (and Kurtās) recovery is so beautiful itās so, so worth it.
If I gave my favorite quote, it would be the whole fic (lol) so this is the end of the first chapter that always āgetsā me:
Kurt finishes his moisturizing and curls in behind Blaine, drawing him close into his chest. He feels the slow rhythm of Blaineās breathing; when heās sleeping itās easy to pretend that itās just them. No brain damage or seizures or doctors orders between them. But no matter what, no matter how much Blaine recovers, or declines, Kurt will always love him, nothing can change that. The perfect, beautiful boy he met on the staircase, that doesnāt let anything get him down. Not homophobes, not rusted pipes, not doctors with their stupid charts and diagnoses. Because Blaine is stronger than all that, and Kurt is stronger and together they will get through. No matter what.
I can recite ~the scene word for word. I remember reading this for the first time when neaf was posting it and I justā¦ words cannot describe how much I love it. Of course I would quote ~the scene, but just in case anyone hasnāt read this one (if you havenāt, what are you doing? go now!), I donāt want to spoil it. So I will go with this beautiful imagery.
The corset heād expected, but the body it clung to was tight, and wiry, and built of porcelain skin and muscle that looked like it was cut from marble. The bulge of both shoulders and biceps cutting out from under the black lines of shimmering fabric was impossible not to follow down to gloved forearms and long, thin fingers pressed against pale knees. His calves disappeared into leather boots with four-inch heels at the base, and Blaine realized a moment too late he was actually staring at the shifting muscle along the manās thighs.
Oh god, this fic. I had started it when Cimms was posting it in chapters, but then she posted it all at once and I justā¦ devoured it. It unlocked something in me, I donāt know but after I finish it I just burst into tears I was so emotional. My husband, of course, was worried about why I was so upset. Thatās when it all came outā¦ I told him about the fic I read, and I actually ended up reading this one out loud to him. I love everything Cimms has written, but this one holds a special place.
Blaine put down the charcoal stick he was inspecting, and looked up. There was an old, nearly threadbare brown velvet armchair facing the windows, with some of his favorite antique dolls sitting on itāheād been painting them last week, working them in as background on one of the canvases for his next book. Kurt was standing next to it, spare and elegant in his trim, tight-fitted clothes, his white fingers looped through the glossy, blond ringlets of the large, French doll with the elaborately frilled lace petticoat. The juxtaposition of it caught him. āThatāsā¦ hold it there, Kurt, okay?ā
Kurt looked up, his eyes wide. āWhat, this? But donāt you need me toā¦ I meanā¦ my hairās blueāā
āItās a very nice color on you,ā Blaine said conversationally, moving all the dolls except the bebe blonde platine to his desk. He hauled the armchair around until he had it where he wanted it, then made a kind of futile attempt to brush the dust off it. āSit here, please?ā
