#that cup one is so canon and it lives rent free in my brain
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normal jovier enjoyer
#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#rdr2 fanart#john marston#javier escuella#jovier#the memes i found on pinterest killed me#that cup one is so canon and it lives rent free in my brain#im also head over heels with charthur so don't get me started or else i will be VERY UNHINGED#ive been playing this game for 2 years and im finally drawing fanart of it lol#kind of got john's scars wrong with the first one but i was learning hh#im not ready to draw angst of 1911 jovier bls my heart#i was going to tag arthur but he's just a tiny man-standing-emoji#kayomin
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In my feels again, tumblr
Back in 2017 or so I wrote a story about anxiety. It was absolutely rooted in the political environment of the moment; it was absolutely rooted in the particular stresses of the moment for someone who passes for cishet and is not. It's about a closeted, neurodivergent (unspecified but he has enough echolalia to be a PITA to write) trans man who is being increasingly hemmed in by the misogynistic component of creeping fascism and is forced to choose whether or not he becomes himself or lets the world win.*
The world is full of choices, and they don't actually get less scary when the moment passes, because gods know those moments are still out there waiting for their chance (if life were made of moments, even now and then a bad oneâ but if life were only moments, then you'd never know you had one**) and I'm just me. (Am I not hot when I'm in my feelings?***)
Sunday I had a chance to talk with the trans kid who was a big chunk of inspiring my last big in my feels tumblr post and tell him his speech meant a lot to me, as someone who doesn't know what the fuck I am. And to tell him my Tradition has a canonically transmasc god, because it does, and even if he isn't pagan anymore, he's someone it's safe to say that to.
The teens give me life, yo. (Nonbinary kid at the coaster park stabbing into their ice cream cup with a spoon and yelling at their jimmies, "I CAME OUT, WHY WON'T YOU" will live rent-free in my brain forever. In the good way. In the best way.) One of my kids made me a nonbinary flag friendship bracelet. I love everyone in this bar never mind that none of y'all are old enough to drink there.
I spend a lot of pointless brain cycles worrying about how much of my life I'll blow up if I make more of a point of anything. Though at least being at "now accepting all major pronouns and thon" about it makes the casual human interaction a little less fraught. But I loop back around and through the petty anxiety about it all the time.
Anyway. That is all setup for the bit I am actually in my feels about.
I happened to glance at Discord and saw activity in a server for a meatspace social group. So I went to see what it was.
What it was, was a friend who is, as far as I know, cishet, posting this:
Which I suspect he did because a) it's June and b) one of the other folks there has Star Wars as a special interest.
I peered at it, and I peered at my anxiety, and I replied to say that in related content, one of my kids made me an enby-flag friendship bracelet.
Within less than a minute, that comment of mine had a thumbs up react from a cis gay friend who hadn't even been logged in at the time I said it and I am fuckin' verklempt ever since.
It's such a tiny thing, but I have such anxiety about my whole deal in my meatspace life y'all and here's this quiet in-person-person in-community support and it means the world to me and...
... anyway I flapped my hands incoherently at him in DMs because it fuckn mattered. (And I know he can parse "I am too autistic to words usefully here".)
Never underestimate the power of a well-placed thumbs up emoji.
We are more than we're made to be We got more than meets the eye When we stand strong, together you and me We can save the world ****
* "The Company Store" was published in Recognize Fascism, an anthology edited by Crystal M. Huff and released by World Weaver Press in 2020.
** Yeah I'm putting in the echolalia because I talked about Rory's origin story it's just gonna happen that way and also I am deep in Alexithymia Bros right now so I'm talking around my feels. That's from Into the Woods, by the way, "Moments in the Woods", by Sondheim and Lapine.
*** "I'm Just Ken", the Barbie Movie
**** "We Can Save the World", Blaseball: The Musical (The Deaths of Sebastian Telephone)
#dear diary tumblr#queer issues#things I say about gender#peligro pacifistas#neurospicy special interest content#kids have a handle on the real problem here
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Got any favorite Camp Camp Ships?? :O How about a list of them?? What would be your favorite to least favorite? Any reasons why??
Iâll give you my top 4 and then we can talk about others
Jaspvid (Jasper x David) - MY NUMBER ONE. when i tell you this is my comfort ship, i mean i would literally die for these two. I LOVE THESE DORKS. ive cried over them an embarrassing amount of times and they are so. so. so perfect. the way i view them in my head. they are everything i want. itâs the slow, long pining. itâs the longing. the YEARNING. GOD. of course, it would never happen in canon, for obvious reasons, but they live rent free in my head with my 100000 of AUs where Jasper is alive and well
Kevdan (Dirty Kevin x Daniel) - theyâre so awful and perfect together. random crackship that i care way too much about and will explain how their dynamic is epic to the depths of space i have a spotify playlist for these bitches Pikemax (Pikeman x Max) - I blame @gh0stbunnie for this one. would never work out in canon. i canât see this in canon. but fanon/au? thats where its at babey. also just a way for me to project stuff thats happened to me in the past but pshhhhhhhhh also, this is something that is brought up a lot, but Pikeman is canonically like, 12. miles and jordan brought it on during some commentary on the blu ray. i bring it up because people tend to think pikeman is like, 15
David x Cute Waitress - idk if these two have a ship name but ill think of something later. but omg. these two r so cute in my head. a little sweet southern doll with a silly, awkward camp loving man. i know they make each other giggle all of the time i just. this one hits different.
now lets move on to other ships lol
im pretty open minded when it comes to ships (except for a few) so like, iâll just give my opinion of ships
letâs get this out of the way, if you ship maxvid, camvid, or anything of that nature, uh, get the fuck off my page. block me, i donât care. i hope you have a fucking terrible rest of your life
Gwenvid (Gwen x David) - to be perfectly honest? i canât see this happening in canon. itâs cute though! I have a handful of gwenvid AUs that i love dearly. Gwen is just. so physically and verbally abusive to David canonically. im fine w it, it just urks me when people go around saying its canon, yâknow? cute tho in fanon/aus!
Danvid (Daniel x David) - hot take this ship is awful. I barely see anyone portray it in a not sexual light. Thereâs a handful of people (my friends) who do this ship justice, but other than that, this just isnât my cup of tea. i love me a good onesided danvid tho
Gwenjaspvid (Gwen x Jasper x David) - I have yet to see a way people have done this in a way I like. so for now Iâm rather neutral about it
Sneil (Snake x Neil) - this ones real, you cant tell me they werenât each others bi awakenings this ones SO REAL TO ME Maxneil (Max x Neil) - tbh? eh. I like to think Neil had like, a little puppy crush on Max, but it never became more than that. itâs a real popular one tho and i can see why
Makki (Max x Nikki) - they r like siblings to me so :( thats gunna be a no for me. if you like it tho, totally cool- i know Yssa likes it
Harrison x Nerris - again, these r like siblings to me so nah, but i get how some people might be into the enemy to lovers they might see in them. personally just no for me Masha (Max x Sasha) - yes. i can so see this. i love how @queeniecamps portrays these two, sasha and her little purse bf, so slay
Sasha x Pikeman - LOOKS AROUND. MOTIONS YOU CLOSER. WHISPERS IN UR EAR. i think about them sometimes. theres untapped potential here and no one talks about it
Presmax (Preston x Max) - I think about these two to âPopularâ from Wicked, and itâs epic. and that is it. how did this ship get so popular back in like 2017. where did the spark come from
Tabrin (Tabii x Erin) - yes i participated in the ship week. yes I will again this year. yes, this is a very, very casual ship in my brain. iâve got like zero aus for it. very very cute tho
Tabii x Neil - no. next one
Neil x Erin - in @dingdongsditch DJ AU, 100%. but also in canon theyâd be. kinda cute. wahh.
SpaceMax (Space Kid x Max) - listen. not in canon. but. BUT.
Me x David x Cute Waitress - this ones canon guys idk what to tell you weâre all happily married
and thatâs about like, all i can think of right now without getting into like rlly obscure ones if you think of any I didnât put on this list, feel free to ask me about it
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Follower Recs
Stories I havenât read yet, but clearly need to put on my ever-expanding List.
~*~
Welcome back queen [Thank you, itâs so lovely to be back!] if ur still doing follower recs I gotta recommend I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett itâs soooooooo good
[This one was actually recced to me by two different people, the other of whom said, â Maybe I'm crying a little so I feel like a should recommend âI would wait for a thousand yearsâ by bleuett on ao3.â]... itâs def. on my List!
I would wait for a thousand years
by bleuett (T, 10k, wangxian)
Summary:Â Â During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair.
âDo you see the rabbit?â Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. âThatâs the moon rabbit, he helps make Changâe more immortality elixir. He keeps Changâe company.â
âI do not wish the rabbit for company,â Lan Wangji says tightly. âYou are the one I want by my side.â
âAnd Iâm here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, Iâll follow you, Iâll always be here now.â
~*~
I just read a great fic by aisthuu "every love story is a ghost story", didn't see it in your recs so wanted to recommend it! LWJ is a guqin composer and teacher, buys a cheap guqin off eBay which ends up being attached to WWX's spirit from canon era. It's bittersweet, LWJ deals with Lan's homophobia (implicit in a Lan way) and his feelings towards the ghost. This is author's only ao3 fic and honestly I don't remember how I stumbled upon it, but I'm happy I did and hope you will enjoy it too! [Iâve recently read this one, and loved it!]
every love story is a ghost story
by aisthuu (M, 59k, wangxian, my bookmark)
Summary:Â Â The man is in Lan Zhanâs bed. Did theyâhe begins to wonder, eyes trailing to where the manâs body lies under the blanket. Had Lan Zhanâ?
Then the sleep-fog clears and Lan Zhan realizes that the young man isnât quite opaque around the edges.
âYouâre a spirit.â
The spirit narrows its eyes. âIâm so much more than that.â
(Lan Zhan buys a guqin off eBay for a suspiciously low price, only to find that itâs haunted. And now thereâs a ghost in his bed.)
~*~
Ok so I absolutely have to rec "see you yesterday" by glyphic. It's a wip, but it's currently at 101k so there's a whole lot there, and it's terrible and wonderful and beautiful all at once. The way the backstory of canon events is adapted to the modern-with-cultivation setting is brilliant, and then there's the amnesia, and then there's the time loop. This fic lives permanently rent-free in my brain.
see you yesterday
by glyphic (M, 101k, wangxian, WIP)
Summary:Â Â
Wei Ying 21:09 hey lan zhan whatâs the weirdest way youve died
Lan Zhan 21:11 Falling encyclopedias.
Wei Ying 21:12 omg no way thatâs so rude turning books against you???
Lan Zhan 21:13 A betrayal I will never forget.
On Halloween night, an exiled demonic cultivator and a Lan disciple get stuck in a time-loop, find each other, and try to figure it all out.
~*~
If you are looking for recs for yourself I absolutely love (the complete!) story Just as the Snow Melts by draechali on AO3. It's a canon divergence where everyone lives, even WWX! ~ @airmidcelt
Just as the Snow Melts
by draechaeli (T, 67k, wangxian)
Summary:Â Â Like a snowy mountain top in spring the residents of the Burial Mounds trickled down the mountain and joined the flow of society.
âI went to the Burial Mounds,â Lan WangJi said.
âAh, yeah⌠Iâm sorry Lan Zhan,â replied Wei WuXian, âI hadnât thought anyone would come to visit. I am still not sure how it happened; I brought A-Yuan to Yiling to play by the river and then ended up somehow teaching a bunch of children swimming and writing along with him.â
~*~
Hello! It's come to my attention that you have not as yet read Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation! Please do! It's the only thing that gave me joy during 2020 đ like proper belly laughs and disney villain style cackling. It is a wip, and it is long but so so worth it!! The author has reworked the entire canon through these message crystals and still conveys complex characters despite the tricky format. It's just so good!! Highly highly recommend it! ⤠~ @theladypeartree [Oh! Iâve been subscribed to this one, and know that @swaglexander-the-great is a reliable provider of Hilarity, so Iâm excited for it to be finished!]
Grandmaster of Meme-onic CultivationÂ
by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 49k, wangxian, WIP)
Summary:Â Â The Untamed universe is exactly the same, except everybody has magical crystals that have a suspiciously familiar messaging system. The story is pretty much the same as the show, except everyone lives!! (so minor changes).
or in which Wei WuXian tries his darndest to date Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng possibly has a aneurysm, Jin ZiXuan is still the most awkward human alive, and Xue Yang makes me write some VERY cursed things. Written in chatfic format! :3
~*~
Chomrafy on AO3 deserves love and encouragement; sheâs written a body of compact, poetic, and eloquent shortfics each of which can stand alone, but that comprise an intricately cross-referential and mostly internally-consistent universe. Theyâre grouped as chapters in works according to theme; for example, âin cupped handsâ focuses upon Jin Ling and his second-generation baggage; âDeparture in Autumnâ portrays the last years of WWXâs first life. Follow the tag âChomrafyâs MDZS shortfics.â [I donât see this tag?]
in cupped hands
by chomrafy (G, 2k, wangxian)
Summary:Â Â Of secrets, of futures, of love. A Jin Ling-centric collection of 200-word fics.
Ch.1: Jin Ling repays a debt (JL, JC, & WWX). Ch.2: Jin Ling and a ghost in the mirror. (JL & JYL) Ch.3: A matter of friends (JL & the other kids) Ch.4: In this house we don't keep dogs (JC & WWX) Ch.5: In the end, he remains silent (JL & uncles) Ch.6: A first night hunt, of sorts (JL & the other kids) Ch.7: Jin Ling, forgiving, forgetting (JL & LXC & JGY) Ch.8: Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling argue (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.9: Jin Ling and his father (JL & JC) Ch.10: Jin Ling speaks up (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.11: Jin Ling and a piece of home (JL, JC, & WWX)
Departure in Autumn
by chomrafy (not rated, 6k)
Summary:Â Â Four perspectives. A steady march to the end.
Ch.1: Because if anything happens to them, Wen Qing would never be able to heal with these hands again. Ch.2: As long as this is still home, Jiang Yanli will wait as long as she needs to. Ch.3: Five times Jiang Cheng reaches for Wei Wuxian, one time he turns away. Ch.4: Whether the road is broad or narrow, bright or dark, they would have to keep walking. Wei Wuxian digs Wen Qing's grave.
~*~
Hello, hope all is going well. I don't have an ask, by I do have a recommendation. I read this fic a while ago and found it again. I just wanted to recommend this for everyone. Let me know what you think please. Thank you. [Oh! This oneâs in my To Read list, but Iâd forgotten about it. Mmmm, fox!wwx and dragon!lwj.]
Ten miles of Lotus Flowers
by Yukirin_Snow
M, 274k, wangxian
Summary:Â Â He was a mischievous fox spirit, wreaking havoc where he went, about to depart on a journey that would span centuries.
He was a heavenly prince, a proud dragon destined to ascend the throne to become emperor.
Neither expected their paths to collide over the span of three lives.
~*~
I forgot if it was your blog đĽ that recommended âBestsellerâ (when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesnât expect it to become the next big hit) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528316/chapters/51318766)
But OMG IT WAS HILARIOUS!!! I LOVED IT!! And if it wasnât your blog, Iâm so sorry for how weird this sounds đđđđ I just loved this fic so much that I have to tell it to someone đ˘ [Itâs on my List, but I havenât read it yet!]
Bestseller
by pupeez4eva
M, 8k, wangxian
Summary:Â Â He had written the book to prove a point. It was never supposed to be a big thing, and he certainly never intended for everyone â Jiang Cheng, Zewu-Jun, the Juniors, literally everyoneâ to be reading about his sex life.
Oh God, he definitely needed to make sure Lan Zhan didnât find out about this.
(Or, when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesnât expect it to become the next big hit).
~*~
Iâd like to rec On Your Marks, Get Set, Bake! by @blackwiresgrowonherhead
Itâs one of my absolute favorites and I laughed out loud so many times when reading it
on your marks, get set, bake!
by BlackWiresOnHerHead
G, 41k, wei wuxian & juniors
Summary:Â Â Jin Ling resumes thumping on the door to room 721, and the small collection of freshmen starts chanting âSenior Wei! Senior Wei! Senior Wei!â with increasing volume until finally Wei Wuxian opens the door.
âYes?â he says with his widest, most innocent eyes.
âSenior Wei!â demands Lan Jingyi, shoving himself to the front of the group. âWhy didnât you tell us youâre a contestant on this yearâs season of The Great Gusu Bake Off?!?â
--
Several months ago, college student Wei Wuxian secretly competed in the most popular reality show in the country. The show starts airing in the fall. The freshmen in his dorm collectively lose their minds.
~*~
If you're in the mood for v. short ridiculous fun fic, may I suggest My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio by x_los It's 2k modern cultivators AU, featuring WWX calling LWJ's sword Bitchin' [omg Iâm laughing so hard] and I think it's more fun going in blind?
My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio
by x_los
T, 2k, wangxian
Summary:Â Â Lan Wangji finds he doesn't even need to call for help for Wei Wuxian to come running.
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Fic recs - IDW gen
Eh, fuck it, "IDW gen fics" is as good a theme as any I decided, so here we go.
Dog of Law - Chi-chi-chimaera (gestalt1)
IDW, rated T, gen (background past pairings), ~60k
Summary:
When Rodimus and the Squad are thrown in a cell on Luna 1 by Tyrest, it isn't a small green and white mech they find waiting for them, but a small green and white turbofox.
Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Dominus Ambus/Kaon(Previous), Minimus Ambus, Hot Rod | Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, The Rod Squad, Swerve (Transformers), Megatron (Transformers), Ravage (Transformers), Dominus Ambus, The Pet (Transformers), Dominus/Kaon briefly implied in Chapter 18 and 19, Alternate Universe, Turbofox Minimus, Trapped as an Animal, Brief Gore, Domestication
Notes:
This fic is a great big fun ride and I love it so much. It starts with the premise of "what if Tyrest fucked way more with Minimus on Luna-1" and takes it SO far with great flair and excellent characterisation. Also, Ravage is here and I love him.
who's a heretic now? - oriflamme
IDW, rated G, gen, ~4k
Summary:
They meet for brunch once a week.
Pharma doesn't want this. Story of his life.
And yet without fail he joins Megatron on the observation deck, drops hard into the seat across from the most prolific killer of their time, and stares blankly into the black of interstellar space until Megatron pours him a cup of gritty oil and goes back to pecking away at his datapad.
Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Pharma/Megatron, Pharma (Transformers), Megatron (Transformers), Ratchet (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock, Whirl (Transformers), Velocity (Transformers), Hot Rod | Rodimus | Rodimus Prime, Brainstorm (Transformers), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye (IDW), Being Pharma is Suffering, mild body horror, Who Mourns for Adonais?, Bonding Over Brunch and Mutual Despair
Notes:
look all i have EVER WANTED is fic where pharma gets dragged kicking and screaming into the Lost Light's insistence on helping out shitty assholes despite absolutely nobody on that ship being able to avoid abject nonsense for more than 0.5 seconds. my sole regret is that this fic is not longer. it is hilarious and sincerely touching in parts and i love it SO dearly
We Forget the Names Not Written Down - FourthFloorWrites
IDW, rated T, gen (background canon pairings), ~6k
Summary:
Technically, the iapetus is correct: the planet is uninhabited. But the silo that rises over the plain, a sterile glint of white metal, suggests this was not always the case. On a planet of one there is no need for names or addresses, but remnants of each remain etched into its walls, and under the rotting floor panels evidence of a legacy can still be found, half buried in the loam.
Tags: Major Character Death, Prowl & Rewind (Transformers), Chromedome/Rewind (Transformers), Prowl (Transformers), Rewind (Transformers), Post-Canon, Epistolary, Brain Damage
Notes:
This fic came into my house, punched me in the face, invented a bunch of different feelings I do not have names for, and left. It's... uh. It's an epistolary fic set far, far post-canon about Prowl and Rewind. It's very difficult to succinctly describe. I love it and it lives in my brain rent free.
Monument To Your Sins - Enfilade
IDW, rated T, gen, ~5k
Summary:
It was as though Deathsaurus was entirely neutral in the matter, doing nothing more than holding up a mirror, and Megatron could not bear the reflection he saw in it.
Dying of the Light AU where Deathsaurus takes Megatron prisoner while Tarn fights Overlord, and prisoner and warden have a little discussion.
Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Megatron (Transformers), Deathsaurus (Transformers), Prison, Consequences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Politics
Notes:
Just as the summary says. This is a GREAT angle to mine re: Megatron in MTMTE, and after reading this, a perspective I'm sad canon doesn't have- the question of MTOs is so interesting from a character like Deathsaurus especially, who is thoroughly unsentimental about himself.
Bodies (break) - ros3bud009
IDW, rated M, gen, ~2.5k
Summary:
âWhat? No. Well, some of them, but most are fine. Pleasant even. Why would you ask that?â
Rung simply nodded and smiled as he slotted his digits together. It was a pleasant smile.
âGood. So you realize that youâre the problem here.â
Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Minimus Ambus, Ultra Magnus, Rung (Transformers), Body Horror, In at least three different interpretations of the term, Bad Rung, Because sometimes Gods are cruel and unempathetic, Reality blurring
Notes:
I'm biased bc me and Rosey talked about a lot of the stuff covered in this fic at length before they wrote it but also that's bc it's BALLER. Weird body horror fic! It's my JAM and VERY UPSETTING and I think about this fic ALL THE TIME.
The Senator/Prime/Empurata Victim, His Warden, and the Most Miserable Little Prison Ship in Space - ckret2
IDW, rated T, gen, ~1k
Summary:
When Shockwave asked if Prowl could execute him, Prowl said no.
Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Shockwave (Transformers), Prowl (Transformers), Post-Canon, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Notes:
The end result of these two in a tiny ship for the next god knows how many years is either going to be depressing or terrifying, and both possibilities are fascinating.
Present Tense - Infini
IDW, rated g, gen (background canon pairings), ~2.5k
Summary: A slight hiccup sends Rodimus' time-travel team back to current-day Cybertron. But this isn't the present they remember: they find themselves faced with familiar names, and an unfamiliar punishment.
Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Chromedome/Rewind, Dominus Ambus/Rewind, Rodimus Prime, Perceptor (Transformers), Riptide (Transformers), Cyclonus (Transformers), Tailgate (Transformers), Chromedome (Transformers), Rewind (Transformers), Rung (Transformers), Whirl (Transformers), Minimus Ambus, Dominus Ambus, Megatron (Transformers)
Notes:
I want to read like, a 100k fic set in this version of the functionist universe about what comes after this. Hell, I wish I could WRITE it. It makes me very sad and I adore it.
#maccadam#transformers#transformers idw#fic#fic recs#long post#i have more! if anyone wants more!#i can do a part 2!#i just want people to read gen fic i love.....
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Blades AU Drabble - Tyril x Raine
@choicesjunechallenge2021 Day Two (Cappuccinos).
A gift for @lxdy-starfury because her coffee shop AU lives rent free in my silly little brain. And she blessed me with all the freakin gorgeous Tyril art to see me through until the day Blades 2 appears. (Couldnât remember your MCâs name so went canon name. Let me know what it is and Iâll switch it up.)
This is late and hasty and well, whatever. *throws it at yâall and runs*
Warnings & A/N: donât think there are any warnings. Only thing Iâd note is that this is an AU if that wasnât obvious already.
The sunlight warms her back as she sips lazily on her drink. The frothy cream a pleasant contrast to the bitter beans. Laying her book down on the table she cups the drink in both hands enjoying the warmth as she scans the other patrons in the cafe. Her eye catching one in particular a few tables away as he hastily averts his piercing gaze from hers.
She smiles as she dips her head back to her book. Stealing occasional peeks from the corner of her eye to catch him watching at her again and again. She wasnât quite sure what to make of it. If his face wasnât set in such a scowl sheâd have thought he simply found her attractive but it didnât appear to be that sort of interest.
As she dared to take a closer look, his eyes snapped back to his work before him. His long, slender fingers gracefully, albeit angrily, stabbed at the keys of his laptop. Harder and harder, as his frustration seemed to get the better of him and he abruptly stood, his chair screeching back, gaining curious glances from most of the place, as he shoved his belonging into his pack and made his angry exit. Sparing one last glare over his shoulders at her.Â
She shook her head, chuckling at him and wondering what she had so clearly done to upset the handsome stranger so. She shared a few confused shrugs and small smiles with some others in the cafe before turning back to her book and forgetting the whole incident until a few days later.
The sunlight once again warming her back as she sipped her favorite drink and read yet another book in the quiet corner of her now favorite shop. As she looked around at the peaceful setting she saw him standing just inside the doorway looking at her with an intensity that made her shiver.Â
He couldnât believe it. She was here. Again. Sitting in his spot. The spot that was offered the perfect vantage point. It was tucked away among a few plants, right against the window, and offered him a full unobstructed view of the cafe. Allowing him to people watch when the mood struck. Not only that but it allowed him an increase in his productivity. Without the distractions of others trying to make small talk or jostle him about or make annoying noises, he got so much more work done. And she was ruining it all.
With a huff, he approached the counter and ordered his drink, hoping against hope that she would vacate the premises by the time his order was in hand. Turning a few minutes later, he discovered he was not so lucky and he fought to control his frustration as he picked a different table to work at. Again.Â
It wasnât fair of her. No. It wasnât fair of him. How was she to know it was his spot? How was she to know that her mere presence both in his spot and in this cafe distracted him beyond measure? She wasnât. So it wasnât fair of him to be angry about it and it certainly wouldnât help him get any work done. So he resigned himself to his fate and got to work. Or, well, at least he tried until he felt her before him and watched in horror as she dropped into the seat opposite his own.
He couldnât help the bitterness that laced his single word, âWhat?â
"What?â her laugh was light and her eyes danced with amusement at his pinched face and angry word.Â
âYou are asking me what, when you are the one that question should clearly be asked of?â
Again her laughter. It grated on him and soothed him at the same time and he hated it.
âYou came over here and interrupted me. So I will repeat my question and give you a second opportunity to not be rude. What do you want?â
Ah, one of those, she thought as she took in his sharply dressed appearance and expensive clothing and air of superiority and entitlement. The tiny cup of straight espresso should have tipped her off from the start and she couldnât help the amused giggle that escaped her lips.
âWell, your majesty, I was simply wondering what I had done to offend your magnificent self so. Your stares and daggers have wounded me so.â She placed a hand in mock injury to her chest and put on her best pout, âI feel I am being unjustly treated.â
He narrowed his eyes at her ridiculous reaction and words and watched her smirk grow.
"I have done nothing of the sort,â he scoffed.
"Oh please!â her grin morphed into the most innocent of smiles, âI have clearly angered you. Either that, or,â she smiled mischievously, âor you clearly have it bad for me. I mean, I cant say I blame you. I look damn good.âÂ
He fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. But he couldnât help himself, so he let his eyes roam over her figure as she leaned back in the chair to give him a better look. And she knew it as her eyes met his as they trailed back up her body. She knew what she was doing to him. Damn her, he cursed.
After sputtering on his reply, and failing miserably to hide his blushing, he finally managed the words, âThat is my spot.â
"What?â she laughed in surprised.
"Is that the only word you know?â he crossed his arms.Â
He smiled at her genuine laugh that broke out over the whole of the place. It warmed in him ways he could not describe. They sat smiling at each other before he schooled his features and gained some control back.
âIt is just that I work better and more efficiently in that location.â
âItâs a rather pleasant spot isnât it?â she smiled at his nod of agreement. âBut you know, everything is better when you share. So come on.â She stood and giggled at his shocked look.Â
âIâm Raine,â she held her hand out to him and he took it, soft and warm in his own.
âTyril.â
ââââââââââ
Choices Tag: @storyofmychoices
#blades au#blades of light and shadow#tyril x mc#others ocs#my drabble#choices monthly challenge#i like to live dangerously and so do not edit forgive my mistakes
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I know we are all discussing the latest episode of Season 16, but I need to wrap up 11 for my own sanity (because there is a LOT to discuss in my Season 12 rewatch already), so without further ado - more rambling for you.
Iâm not going to include 11x20: Donât Call Me Shurley because I think Iâd like to do an entire Chuck - arc - series.  Rob Benedict is a gift; that dad mug kills; and I love that the fan theories about Chuck spinning around this fandom for years turned out to be correct after all (WEIRD HOW THAT HAPPENS WITH CHARACTERS EH).  Moving on.
As you will recall, two recaps and many many many crackhead other posts from my corner of super hell ago, I ended the 11x18 recap with this image of Amara realizing...âsomethingâ after Dean said Casâs name (just before she took Casifer with her), Dean/Amara unbreakable connection be damned. Speaking of unbreakable connection this post is partially the AMARA DISSERTATION. Â Buckle up.
FF to 11x21: All in the Family; the boys are shooting the shit with Chuck and in the meantime, Amara is torturing Casifer. Â Important to note that just recently the actual Cas was enlightened that Dean wants him to cast Lucifer out, so I presume he is a little more active at this point, and that strengthens the following hypothesis. Â Look how Amara is looking at Casifer here:
And here, right before she touches him on the chest.
Itâs the same look she gave Dean. Sheâs trying to decipher something; trying to figure something out.Â
She appears to Dean in the VERY next scene, to show him how she is torturing Casifer. Â But the real point is, of course, to show him how its affecting the physical form of Cas, reminding him its not just Lucifer who is suffering. Â It works. Â
DEANÂ
Amara is â she's in my head. [Sam looks at him sharply] Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of â of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looks like crap â like she's really doing a number on him.
***Note, yet again, despite the *connection* Amara/Dean supposedly share, all he can think about and talk about is Cas.
And Amara knows it. Â Thatâs the realization she has in 11x18. Â Dean loves Cas. Â Then, in 11x21 she realizes Cas loves Dean. Â So, she uses it to her own ends. Â Smart girl. Â
Enter Donatello (I love him), prophet of (not) the Lord. Â He, Metatron, and Sam set out to rescue Casifer while Dean distracts Amara. Â If we start with the presumption she now has the prior additional insight, the following snippets of dialogue hit a little different.
AMARA
This place, this world hasn't been especially easy for you. Why not at least consider my offer?
*********
DEAN
You're right. I am drawn to you. And it bothers the hell out of me, 'cause I can't control it.
AMARA
Then why fight it? What you're feeling is that I am the end of your struggle.Â
***AHEM, this was not the FACE CUPPING I requested.
What keeps Dean from having it all?  What is his struggle?  Itâs not the monsters or the hunting.  Deanâs repeatedly shown he loves this life; he doesn't want anything else (and the one time he did try it in Season 6, it was half-ass at best, and he left the minute Sam returned to go back to hunting).  Deanâs KEY struggle in the show is internal.  He represses his feelings, pushes his pain aside, resulting in a cycle of self-loathing and anger.  That cycle keeps him from having it all - accepting he can be loved, allowing himself to give his heart to someone else. And at this point, Amara not only knows that someone else is Cas, she knows that Cas feels the same way.  Girl, welcome to super hell.  Take a damn seat by Sam.
11x22: We Happy Few
Iâll skim through this one so this post doesnât completely make your eyes bleed due to the sheer length. Â
The splicing with the scenes of everyone assembling different factions to form the new âline-upâ needed to trap Amara is excellent. Iâve already done a short post on the brilliance of Dean heading to get Crowley and the ex-boyfriend mood of it all (Dean, of all people, telling Crowley to sober up gives me an ENTIRE head canon of the Crowley/demon!Dean unseen dynamic in Season 10).  And of COURSE Dean knows exactly what to say to convince Crowley to get on board. I also enjoy our future Sam-witch as the emissary to Rowena (âthreeâs a covenâ would be a great tattoo, TBH).
BONUS:
I love her.
Big fight scene with Amara ensues, but this isnât the finale so she cannot be beaten. Â However, right before she mortally wounds Chuck, she does this:
[Yelling, LUCIFER charges her from behind again, but AMARA flings him hard against a support pillar across the room.]
AMARA
Goodbye, nephew.
[She banishes LUCIFER. CASTIEL slumps unconscious to the floor.]
DEAN: Cas!Â
(He rushes AMARA, but she flings him away without effort.)
***She banishes Lucifer. Â She could have just killed him. Â Ended him entirely, and Cas along with him. Â But she BANISHES LUCIFER. Â Because of what she learned in the prior episode. Â Because of the pain she saw in both of those idiots.
She does this for Dean.
Anyway, thank you Casifer FOR YOUR SERVICE. Â I miss you already.
11x23: Alpha and Omega
There is nothing more precious than Dean sending his brother to check on GOD while he goes to check on his boyfriend:
DEAN: [Grunting]
Check on him.
SAM: [kneels next to Chuck]
Hey. Chuck?
[Dean kneels down next to Cas and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cas stirs and looks up at Dean]
CAS:
Dean.
DEAN:
Cas? Hey, is that you?
***All the heart eyes for the reunion!!
*********ALSO SHOULDERRRRRRRR
Chuck is dying, Rowena bonds with him. Â Crowley is gold in this finale. Â I MISS YOU MARK. Â This line is NOT in the transcript/script I used, and it potentially being ad libbed makes it even better.
Dean decides to deal with the end of the world by drinking ONE beer, then deciding there is ânot enoughâ beer and grabbing Cas for a beer (and....*feelings*) run.
DEAN:
You know what? This isn't gonna be enough. I better make a run.
[Sighs]
No reason to die sober, huh?
[to Sam]
You want to?
SAM: [frustrated]Â
No!
*********************
DEAN:
Be right back.
SAM:
I'll stay here, find our Plan B.
DEAN:
Okay. Cas, come on.
Nothing makes me more pleased than the assumption that of COURSE Cas is coming with him. Â I mean, he just got him back. Â Also, Sam is frustrated because he is back in super hell, obvi ;) Â Â
***Now we have the little âyouâre our brotherâ bit in the Impala beer run dialogue, but to me itâs because Dean doesnât know how else to express what heâs feeling.  Repression, people. Â
The look of literal PAIN on Casâs face at the âbrotherâ line makes me cackle.  Misha Collins DESERVES AN EMMY; he is doing the Lordâs work with his Acting Choices here.
This little part before is what really gets me though, especially with all of the WORDS OF AFFIRMATION:
[Dean and Cas are driving in the Impala]
DEAN:
How you doing? You good?
I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing.
CAS:
I was just... so stupid.
DEAN:
No, no, no. It wasn't stupid.
You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun.
Me and Sam wouldn't have done that.
CAS:
Well, it didn't work.
DEAN:
No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up.
CAS:
I was just trying to help.
DEAN:
Well, and you do help, Cas.
***ITS JUST SO LOVELY.  Dean asking Cas how he is doing (what Cas always asks Dean); telling Cas he wasnât stupid (throwback to Cas telling Dean he was stupid âfor the right reasonsâ); acknowledging that Cas does HELP.  That he is important and appreciated.  THIS IS SUCH GROWTH.  I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Speak his love language, King.
Anyway, then Dean turns into a human bomb because martyr!dean gonna martyr and be âdaddyâs (Chuck filling that role here) blunt little weaponâ and we get -
THE DESTIEL GOODBYE. Tell me they didnât actually go canon for the FIRST time here. Â I will fight you.
LOOK at Cas watching him in the background.Â
These fucking desolate eyes. Iâm crying.
THEY JUST GOT EACH OTHER BACK - Â
(I recognize this .gif is meh quality but I love that he turns and walks to him and Cas just GRABS him in this crushing hug)
DEAN [accepts the hug good-naturedly but then looks sad]
Okay, okay.
***âgood naturedly??? ok Jensen âActing Choicesâ Ackles. That is not âgood natureâ that is BLISS.
AND THEN THIS -
SOBS IN ENOCHIAN.
***I literally had to remind myself that the reunion hug is coming; itâs just an episode away. Â Iâll make yâall feel better too; here it is - A PERFECT PARALLEL. Curse this show.
MORE OF THISÂ âGOOD NATUREDâ HUGGING PLEASE.
Anyways, back to depressing subtext. Â
DEAN:
Okay, look. I want a big funeral.
All right? I'm talking epic.
Okay? Open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, and Gary Busey reading the eulogy.
*****This scene lives in my mind rent-free as PROOF 15x20 doesnât exist.
I canât skip over further growth in Deanâs goodbye to Sammy.
***Heâs being serious. Seasons 1-3 Dean would never have admitted this.  I was a blubbering mess at this point.
So, Dean heads to Amara, and the rest of the gang heads to the bar.
CROWLEY:
Your round, Moose.
***I would love an entire bottle episode of Crowley, Sam, Rowena, and Chuck at that bar TBH.
And then, Dean saves the day. Â BUT NOT by dying and sacrificing himself, letting himself be used as a weapon of mass destruction. Â No, he fixes the DAMN WORLD by connecting to Amara emotionally, and bringing her and Chuck back together, because he understands that not to be alone is what she really needs; that her own struggle is the same as his - letting in love instead of raging against it and fighting her own need for companionship. Â Because thatâs where ELDEST SIBLING AMARA AND Dean Winchester CONNECT. Â Amara isnât in love with Dean. Â She identifies with Dean. Â She sees her own feelings in him, her own pain, and thatâs why she exorcises Lucifer and saves Cas - FOR Dean. Â Amaraâs just a Dean girl, everyone. Â And we know Dean girls protect Cas at all costs.
Yup. Â Amara Dean Girl Darkness Heller. Â
Thatâs it. Â Thatâs the dissertation.
See you in Season 12, where I will attempt to figure out the reason behind the British Men of Letters, killing Hitler, the brain melt that is Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, the comedy of errors that is Cas playing Dean hot and cold, and the Mary Winchester of it all.Â
#destiel#spn analysis#spn meta#supernatural#spn family#spn fandom#spn season 11#amara#spn recap#dean winchester
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hakuno kishinami is an anagram of "kimi no na hakushi", meaning "your name is blank". i've seen people dismiss this as a cue for them to just insert their own name, but i actually really love it! it's a nice sounding and really unique name (i've never heard of another character named hakuno or kishinami before :shrug:), but what really sells it to me is how it ties in hakuno's character and story extremely well.Â
hakuno starts off with no memories, looked down by her fellow competitors and has nothing. many scenes in the game acknowledges this and literallt describes hakuno as nothing. all she has to her is a name, but that may as well be nothing too. that's why blank is a very fitting word for hakuno. it's empty, it's nothing, but at the same time, it's space that can be filled. a majority of the cast (and even the mob characters) berate and look down on hakuno, but several characters recognize her potential to grow â and she does! hakuno's growth is that of a self-insert into a character, from nothing into something. hakuno explicitly says this in canon, thinking herself to be an empty cup, but now filled thanks to her friends and allies.Â
Rin/Rani and [SERVANT YOU CHOSE]âs words have touched me. They fill my empty cup with water, so to speak. âŚI have no way of knowing if the water is pure at this point. Even so, I can see where I need to go from here.
i love this empty cup comparison because it really shows hakuno's inner struggles and doubts regarding what kind of person she is, but still choosing to move forward regardless. another motif that i really like for hakuno, and my hakuno especially, is a blank canvas. it's fitting in the way the word blank is for hakuno, but i personally really like this comparison because of one addition â a blank canvas is empty, filled with nothing, but it's also white.
we all know that white is a color associated with good, innocence, purity, etc. and these two lines from leo and rin respectively really live in my mind rent free (leo's outright describe her as pure and innocent ok!!)Â
... but it's true that you have a charm others don't. the reason i was drawn to you might be because i sensed possibility within your pure, innocent nature.
you're soft-hearted and sentimental and... it's a reminder of how people really should be.
it's not just them though. tamamo describes hakuno as a pure unpolished gem, nero leaves a white rose (just like the color white, often used to symbolize purity and innocent) for hakuno at her grave and i'd list more here, but sadly, my brain is that of a gold fish.Â
not what you'd expect to describe a literal artificial intelligence with a kill count of seven (fourteen if you count in the servants---) and i think some would argue "good" isn't something they'd use to describe hakuno, but i'd say hakuno is a very good-natured person. just forced into, y'know, a literal kill or be killed war. considering how she's treated the people she faced and how she went about a literal war (cried for someone who didn't care for her, took an opponent's advice to heart, saved a possible opponent, showed kindness to someone who deeply loathed her, etc.), i personally think it's pretty accurate.
and like a blank canvas and an unpolished gem, there's potential and possibility (which leo's quote also outright states!). i don't think i need to explain this because we already know that hakuno worked her way up from the very bottom, ultimately winning the holy grail despite being the weakest master on the moon. so... yeah!
what really sells this motif to me (and the reason i made this entire post tbfh) is the fact that advanced AIs do have souls, but the contents of which are colorless. NPCs like hakuno don't have souls, but extella materials stated that hakuno gained one with sentience. in my lynn take, i assume things to be like this: humans have colored souls and advanced AIs have colorless souls, which makes sense, because for all its human observation, the moon cell fundamentally cannot understand humans. (i know i say that a lot, but i can't stress it enough!!)
so---- what about hakuno? i'd say she's somewhere in between. this is a huge thing for my hakuno whoâs forever stuck between human and npc + kiiinda ties in with a point i'd like to bring up when/if i ramble about her last name too.
btw this is just my hakuno simp side speaking, but the large doe eyes hakunon has really adds to all that innocent charm.........Â
vvvvv cute đł
#đđđđđđđđâââ âââ âââ ďšâââ ââââââ charactersă
¤âşă
¤hakuno.chră
¤âşă
¤studies .#GIRL I KNOW I SAID I WOULDN'T RAMBLE BUT I CAN'T HELP IT#omg i rlly hope this makes sense#it made sense in my head but i lack the ability to put stuff into words ya kno.......đł#but -PUNCHES WALL- so much to think about!!!!!!#i wanted to bring up how it's this nature of hers that rlly makes her So Good when it comes to#being such a good influence to the other characters??#i can't describe it but hakuno rlly affects a lot of ppl in this wholly good way that i just#!!!!!!!! SCREAM#leo's quote is soooooo soooo SOOOOOO good tho#probably the best way to describe hakuno#'you have a certain charm that others don't' EXACTLY#i wish i knew japanese tbh bc i know the individual kanji can be rlly meaningful#but i don't so i'm just here all đđ#omg i feel like this isn't even half of what i have to say abt this topic but i Cannot Put It Into Words!!!!#i'll just end it with this: i love h.akuno k.ishinami#đĽşđĽşđĽşđđđđâ¤#long post /#and hey even if my madman ramblings are a mess. that screencap of hakunon is A BLESSING TO THE DASH-----
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It wasnât supposed to end like this.Â
With bright lights and beeping machines and out-of-date magazines. Rolandâs career was supposed to end with confetti. Maybe a parade. At least some sort of cheering, because if there was cheering then it wouldnât be possible to hear how difficult it was for Matt to catch his breath and if he started crying in the waiting room he was never going to forgive himself.Â
Or: Roland Locksley gets hurt and Matt Jones doesnât handle it very well.Â
----
Rating: Teen, but like with a heaping side of angst Word Count: 5.2K or so AN: This story has been living rent free in the back corner of my mind that I reserve for angsty hockey head canons for as long as I can remember and last week I finally sat down and typed it. Anyway, this is as angsty as advertised, is basically just original characters at this point and I had no intention of actually posting it anywhere, but I thrive on forcing hockey words at the internet so here we go. Also, probably important to remember that Roland and Lizzie are together and that Taylor is Phillip and Auroraâs kid. I was not kidding about this really being mostly original characters. Â
----
âWhere is he? Is everythingââ
Matt cut himself off. Nearly bit his tongue in half in the process too, but he also couldnât quite come to terms with the overall circumference of Lizzieâs eyes or just how quickly Peggy had slid in the chair she was draped across.Â
Both of their mouths dropped open.Â
Audibly.Â
âWhat are youââ Lizzie breathed, shaking her head slowly and she didnât blink. Matt wasnât sure she was capable. That was fair. Every time he blinked he saw the play all over again. In slow motion, even. Like his brain was trying to remind him of the wholly inhuman angle Rolandâs leg had taken when he slammed into the boards and no one was supposed to slam into the boards like that.Â
âMD,â Peggy said when the rest of Lizzieâs sentence drifted into the low hum of an exceptionally packed waiting room. âWhat are you doing here? How are you here?â âThey do have cars, Mar.â âWas that supposed to rhyme?â
âAnd he doesnât know how to drive,â Lizzie mumbled. Matt ignored that. âWhere is he?â
Taking his time on every word felt like overkill, even as Matt was saying them, but he was also at least passably familiar with the accepted resting heart rate for professional athletes and his appeared close to beating out of his chest.Â
Someone was walking towards them.Â
And Lizzie still hadnât blinked yet.Â
âThey took him to pre-op twenty minutes ago.â Matt startled at the new voice, not entirely surprised to see Taylor turning the nearest corner with three cups of undoubtedly shitty coffee clutched in his hands. âI didnât get you any of this. Did you fly here?â âI donât want your garbage coffee anyway. Probably burnt.â âYouâre something of a snob, you know that?â Matt shrugged, trying to ignore the exact way his stomach continued to clench. Although when that same organ had spent most of the rented car ride from New York to Philadelphia trying to lodge itself in the middle of Mattâs throat, he supposed this was a step in the right directionÂ
Metaphorically speaking.Â
Now that he was in the hospital, he wasnât doing very much literal stepping. His legs felt like theyâd frozen.Â
Locked up. Particularly in the knee-type area.Â
Knees were not meant to bend like Rolandâs had.Â
âWhatâs the kid doing here?â Matt nodded towards Taylor, who only grumbled a few choice words under his breath while he doled out garbage coffee and he must have bailed on his classes that afternoon. Apparently none of them could operate without at least a few of the others, because no one was entirely surprised when Taylor decided to go to school in Philadelphia and Temple didnât have a hockey team, but that probably wasnât really all that important.Â
The Mills-Locksley plastered across the back of Taylorâs t-shirt looked bigger than usual.Â
Peggy made a face as soon as she took her first sip of coffee, the expression quickly evolving into a glare. Directed entirely at Matt. That didnât seem fair, honestly. Heâd spent a lot of money on that car. âDoes front office know youâre here? Or Henry?â
âThose two donât go together.â She rolled her eyes. While Mattâs kept darting towards Lizzie â who, it seemed, was trying her best to bite her lip in half. Wringing her fingers together wasnât doing much to help the anxious energy practically falling off her, the kind of pale that made it look like she hadnât seen the outside world in several decades.Â
She kept tapping her right foot. Five quick movements, the bottom of her heel colliding with the tiled floor, and a sharp inhale on every third tap. Her gaze had a distinctly glazed edge to it.
âHenry didnât have any idea Matt was going to be here,â Lizzie muttered, not taking her eyes off him. It felt like she was staring through him. Or at whatever was directly over his right shoulder.Â
Looked pretty interesting.Â
Distracting, maybe.Â
Matt could have used a distraction.Â
âDidnât say anything, at least,â she added, âneither did Gina or Robin. But, theyâre uhâI mean theyâre kind of preoccupied andââ Something wasnât right.Â
Less right. Than the piece of shit situation they were in now.Â
He really hadnât thought when heâd left New York. Just told everyone that he wasnât going to be at skate that morning and made a few phone calls, sent a text to his parents and his brother, and the whole thing would probably end with some sort of lengthy discussion about priorities that Matt wasnât particularly interested in hearing, but he really had lost track of how often he watched the video and people knew.Â
What Roland meant. To him. To the game. To the way Matt was when he played.Â
So, heâd sat in the backseat of that car, twisting his phone and resisting the urge to torture himself some more and maybe he should have told someone he was coming. Seemed almost redundant though.
People knew.Â
Everyone knew.Â
Something was incredibly wrong.Â
âLizzie,â Matt said, unable to stop himself from stretching the name out into some sort of reprimand. She blinked. He was suffocating.Â
Shaking her head slowly appeared to be the only answer she was capable of giving at the moment, which wasnât so much frustrating as it was a little overwhelming and Matt was going to set records. For self-inflicted oxygen deprivation.Â
His mind raced.Â
Tried to understand options and recovery periods andâthis wasnât the first time this had happened to Roland. Matt licked his lips. Several times. Didnât help. Lizzie blinked again. And he kept trying to think. Because ACL injuries were common now, the inevitable cause behind most of the NHLâs publicized âlower body injuries,â and surgeries were relatively quick, but multiple issues with the muscle that basically allowed skating couldnât have possibly been good or healthy andâ
âNo,â Matt exhaled.Â
Lizzie closed her eyes. Lightly, as if she were giving into the feeling or everything she hadnât said yet and it was Mattâs turn to shake his head.Â
In disagreement.Â
Of the strongest kind.Â
âNo, no,â he chanted. âThatâsâcâmon, you guys are kidding me.â Peggyâs mouth twisted, as far away from a smile as the movement could be. âNo one said anything, MD. Seriously, are you going to get in trouble for this?â âFuck that.â âAn irresponsible mindset.â
Something flew out of Matt â loud and wholly inhuman, like it was scratching its way from the depths of his soul and some deep, dark part of him where disappointment lurked and unfair things festered and this wasnât fair. Nothing about this was right.Â
He wanted time to freeze. To stop and give him a chance to understand, for his pulse to settle and his legs to move because he needed to move and Matt couldnât move and there were tears on Lizzieâs cheeks.Â
Machines beeped at the other end of the hallway. Outdated magazines moved as other people who did not have several worlds crashing around them at that very moment looked for something interesting to read in Philadelphiaâs most brightly-lit waiting room. Orthopedic shoes squeaked on the floor.Â
Voices drifted. Calls and pages and a slew of other words Matt couldnât begin to think of or even pretend to care about.Â
Taylor downed the rest of his coffee.Â
âMight not be good, Mattie,â he mumbled.Â
And that was it. Of all the things that could do it, Matt wasnât entirely surprised when a decades-old nickname was the thing that pushed him over that metaphorical edge. Directly into what felt like a never-ending chasm of knowing and understanding and Peggy really was very quick on her feet.Â
Moving into his space, her hands on his chest were most of the reason Matt didnât fall over right there. Plus his knees. Which refused to function, still. She had to press up on her toes to curl his t-shirt into her fingers, saying things he didnât hear and didnât want to understand and the feeling of weightlessness on his descent into that metaphorical chasm was oddly pleasant.Â
He figured that would end relatively quickly.Â
âWhatââ Mattâs voice didnât sound like his. Rasped out of him through lips that were quickly turning chapped, and that didnât make sense either. It was April. Playoffs were just starting.Â
It was so goddamn sunny out.Â
He resented it, honestly.Â
âWhat, uhâwhat have the doctors said so far? Thatâs...I mean, I know it was shitty, but Rolâs come back fromââ ââYeah,â Henry said, appearing out of seemingly nowhere with neither one of his parents nearby, âthatâs not really what he wants to do anymore.â
âBe more specific, old man.â âAh, thatâs just rude.â âIt wasnât just last night,â Lizzie whispered, and Matt genuinely did not know where to look. He had to pick somewhere. He couldnât glare at all of them at once.Â
He tried anyway.Â
âWhat does that mean?â âSomething about a camel and last straw, I think.â âGrandma is not here, Elizabeth.â Narrowing her eyes only made the red in them more pronounced, a thin line across her face that Matt was sure had, at one point, been her mouth. âYou know better than anybody, Mattie. Teams donât disclose injuries like that. Weââ Lizzie huffed, another quick shake of her head that only served to make her hair flutter against her cheeks, âHeâs been playing banged up all year.â âBanged up? Thatâs what weâre going with?â âWhat would you like?â âHurt?â Matt snarled, marginally disappointed when he couldnât control the volume of his voice. Anger mixed with fear, manifesting itself into a weird tightening around his core and possibly the general area of his spleen.Â
He wasnât ever sure what the point of his spleen was, exactly.Â
âItâs....it hasnât been easy,â Lizzie explained. âThis season, at least. Playing so long last year didnât help with his knees and skating isnâtââ ââEasy?â âIf youâre going to be a dick about this, you can get back in a car I know you paid way too much for and go home.â
Deflating wasnât exactly a word Matt wanted to think about in that moment. But for as quickly as the fight had risen in him, it disappeared even faster. Leaving nothing more than a sharp emptiness in the very center of him.Â
None of it made sense.Â
âI really paid way too much to get here,â Matt admitted.Â
Lizzie sniffled, dragging her hands down either one of her cheeks with enough force that she left angry red streaks in her wake and it didnât look like sheâd slept in several days. Possibly this whole season.Â
âHow bad was bad, then?â âBad,â she echoed. âHeâd kill me if he knew I said this, but getting to the Conference Finals took a lot last season. All those extra games and that triple overtime was a fucking disaster and...you know, thereâs something about the way he plays. Never the biggest guy, or the most physical, but itââÂ
Lizzie tugged her lips behind her teeth, another inhale that affected Mattâs respiratory system and this was why. Why he didnât waste time thinking. Why he wouldnât look at a single newspaper article the next day. Why he had to be here for a surgery heâd spend sitting in a mass-produced plastic chair.Â
Because he knew. What this game meant to Roland. And what losing it would do to him.Â
âSpent half his mornings in PT this year, and never really said anything, but IââÂ
Lizzie always had exceptionally straight teeth.Â
When they were kids, Matt thought it was entirely unfair that she hadnât needed braces or a retainer or anything. She simply existed and everything was great. That had been some sort of trend for most of their lives. Lizzie knew. She had a plan and a list, and she got shit done. No matter what else was going on or who else said it was impossible, and when people had started muttering and questioning, whispering about how much older Roland was than her, sheâd flashed them that kind of hundred-watt smile that usually distracted opposing counsel and, quite easily, told them to go fuck themselves.Â
Lizzie never broke.
She never wavered. She believed and she knew and she fixed everything.Â
None of this could get fixed.Â
At least not entirely.Â
And every one of her perfectly straight teeth was on display when she grimaced.Â
âIt hurt to skate,â Lizzie breathed, âevery time he got on the ice. But heâs an idiot, soââ Matt chuckled, a sniffle of his own and eyes that couldnât see more than a few feet in front of him anymore. âAnyway, uh...weâd talked about it, a little. What would happen after the season, but that always seemed like such a far away thing and then thereâs playoffs and thatâs just another season, isnât it? Iâm rambling. Arenât I?â âA little,â Matt agreed.Â
âYou really came down here.â âThat wasnât a question.â âMore a slightly stunned observation.â Mattâs smile felt carved onto his face, nothing more than muscles that werenât all that inclined to move the way he wanted them to. âWas he playing on the tear?â âNo, no, no,â Lizzie promised quickly, but Matt lifted his eyebrows and Taylor snickered into his empty coffee cup. âMight have been strained.â âLikely,â Peggy amended.
Widening his eyes, Matt hoped he didnât look as deranged as he felt. âYou might have been right about the camel and the straw.â âIs that two different cliches?â Lizzie asked. âYeah, absolutely. Grandma really would be impressed.â Another less-than-impressive laugh fell out of Lizzie at the same time her chin dropped to her shirt. âYou play through the pain, Mattie. As idiotic as itâs always been. Thatâs the game, isnât it?â
âItâs a dumb one.â âYeah, it is. A good one too, though. Sometimes. Most of the time, really. All those cheers and the people and every stupid opinion on TV shows and tweets. You play for that chance. To be something bigger than yourself. To leave it all behind, for people to remember you by. You play for the possibility of it all, and sometimes you forget what losing that will mean.â
Mattâs hands moved. Darted, really. Onto Peggyâs shoulders and she grit her teeth at the force of his grip, but she didnât tell him to move and he was going to have to take her to Serendipity for that.Â
âYouâre going to dislocate something in her,â Taylor chided lightly. He dropped into Peggyâs forgotten chair, catching one of Lizzieâs hands when she started wringing her fingers again. She didnât pull away, either.Â
Matt shook his head. He wasnât sure what he was objecting to anymore. âI donât think I have that kind of dexterity in my fingers, actually.â âGood word,â Henry murmured.Â
âHow long have you been here?â âSince last night. There was some talking and,â he shrugged, âplanning and discussion. Now, Luce and Ella are back at the apartment trying to make sure no one starves after this operationââ ââAwfully pointed,â Lizzie interrupted. Taylor squeezed her hand. Her head fell to his shoulder. Which couldnât have been very comfortable with the armrest looking like it was poking rather prominently into her ribs.Â
âWhat have you eaten since the game?â âUh, like...some saltines.â Peggy groaned. âLiar, you took at least two bites of my egg sandwich this morning. Please stop spreading rumors like that.â
Lizzieâs answering laugh sounded far too watery.Â
âAnd,â Henry added, âMom and Dad are outside talking to El and Liam who just got here and had to park several miles away, or so they claimed.â
âMy parents are here?â Lizzie asked. âProbably texted you several dozen times.â Without letting go of Taylorâs hand, Lizzie threatened to dislocate her own shoulder as she yanked her phone out of her back pocket. She let out a low curse at the number of messages sheâd missed, and Matt was getting a little frustrated that no one had actually confirmed anything to him yet.Â
He also didnât object when Peggy curled against his side.Â
Made it easier to rest his chin on top of her head, anyway.Â
And none of them flinched when the automatic doors slid open, four more sets of footsteps and muted discussion in obviously worried tones â but Lizzie wasnât much more than a blur when she moved, launching herself into Aunt Elsaâs outstretched arms.Â
âItâs ok elskan, itâs ok,â Aunt Elsa said, one of her hands coming up to cup the back of Lizzieâs head as she pressed endearments into her temple. None of the words were in English. Peak Jones comforting techniques. In addition to losing track of how often heâd watched the video, Matt couldnât even begin to guess how many times his parents had done the same thing to him, quiet assurances and guarantees that worked when he was young, but might have rung a little hollow now and maybe he was just some sort of pessimistic asshole.Â
No one had said the word actual yet.Â
He wouldn't believe it until Roland told him.Â
âCâmon MD,â Peggy said, tugging him back towards a pair of empty chairs on Taylorâs other side. âI canât support your weight forever.â
He let her direct him, not sure if his lack of fight was a reaction to Lizzie or how blotchy Ginaâs face was when she followed Robin into the waiting room, or how at some point in the next three hours heâd become the de facto contact point for anyone not in Philadelphia.Â
Dad texted him and Mom called him â another round of those quiet assurances that Matt tried desperately to believe, but the growing lump in his throat made it difficult to respond and time was going backwards, he was sure. Chris FaceTimed. Four different times.Â
âNothing to report, kid,â Matt said, for at least the seventy-sixth time. Peggy was pacing a lopsided circle in front of him, Lizzieâs head resting on Aunt Elsaâs leg and her feet propped against Uncle Liamâs knee.Â
âThatâs bullshit.â âSaying it over and over is not going to help, Toph,â Henry muttered, not bothering to open his eyes. It was the middle of the afternoon.Â
Matt couldnât imagine any of them had slept the night before. What with life-changing conversations to have, and everything.Â
âLizzie eat yet?â
Mattâs eyes darted towards his cousin, but she didnât so much as move â let alone show any signs of hunger, and he very much doubted sheâd even tasted those so-called bites of sandwich sheâd taken that morning.Â
âGets in her own head,â Chris mumbled, âcanât think about anything as human as sustenance.â Sliding down in his chair wouldnât help the covertness of a conversation that should have had headphones, but Matt was getting more desperate the longer he sat there and he was even more convinced Lizzie wasnât paying attention to him. âAt some point, Iâm pretty positive Aunt Ginaâs just going to take over and start doling out rations to everyone andââ
He cut himself off.Â
Suddenly. Sharply. As soon as he processed the specific squeak moving towards them and how quickly it stopped in front of Lizzie.Â
She swung her feet back onto the floor.Â
âGot quite a party out here, donât you?â the doctor asked, like that was a joke and he was allowed to smile and both Peggy and Chris clicked their tongues knowingly. At Matt. Who couldn't see his face, but knew all too well the glare it had almost immediately shifted into.Â
His shoulders rolled forward too.
âLike heâs going to check the goddamn medical professional,â Peggy muttered conspiratorially. Chris rolled his eyes.Â
âGet fined, suspended and arrested, maybe?â
âThatâd be a fun distraction.â âI will kill both of you,â Matt hissed. Peggy scrunched her nose when she nodded. For added effect. And obnoxiousness.Â
And he was so busy doling out threats that Matt barely heard the updates. Something about feeling good and still a little groggy, but coherent and Lizzie nodded in what could only be described as understanding and possible hope while the doctor listed post-op plans and medicine schedules and then they were moving and squeaking and Matt was back to waiting.
Impatiently.Â
He picked up Peggyâs route, ignoring the lingering looks from Henry and Taylor and Aunt Elsa caught his hand before he was entirely ready for it.Â
âYouâre making me dizzy,â she smiled, pulling him next to her. Still no fight. The lump in Mattâs throat was enormous.Â
âSorry.â âRidiculous.â âIs that a compliment or an observation?â âEh, little of column A, little of column B. Howâs your breathing going?â Blushing was stupid, all things considered â but Matt suddenly felt like he was ten years old and getting caught for shoving Peggy into the pool because of course the Vankald-Jonesâ moved into a house outside of D.C. that had a pool. Perfect family life demanded such things.Â
âThatâs what I thought,â Aunt Elsa nodded, âyou know, sometimes you are so much like your dad it is amazing.â âOh, that didnât sound like a compliment either.â âIt wasnât,â Uncle Liam said, a soft laugh clinging to the words. âNice shot the other night, by the way. When you guys start the next series?â âOnce Carolina and Pittsburgh finish. Theyâre probably going to go seven, though.â âCarolinaâs a better match for you guys, right?â Matt shrugged. âBoth of âem have their strengths, butââ He desperately needed to finish his sentence. That proved impossible when he heard Henryâs smile stretch across his face, and Uncle Liam didnât bother to hide his own look, a distraction that almost took root in the form of a politically correct and PR-approved answer andââItâd be fun to fuck up Pittsburghâ Matt finished. âThat center of theirs is a bastard.â âThatâs the spirit.â
And, really, it didnât take long. For Lizzie to come back and Aunt Gina to pretend like she hadnât been crying, and Uncle Robinâs hand appeared cemented to the back of his neck, but then Matt was standing and Henry was standing and neither one of them double checked. They went in at the same time.Â
To a room that was also questionably bright, bouquets of flowers already dotting a variety of flat surfaces. An IV wire ran towards the bed, the same one Roland was propped up in with more pillows than the hospital could have ever provided.Â
âYour mom bring those?âÂ
Roland's grin threatened to split his face. The ache returned to Mattâs chest. âDonât act like you arenât jealous. And it smells like a goddamn rose garden in here. Theyâre going to have to drag me out.â âDonât tell Lizzie that, she might not ever forgive you.â âShe likes all those sweet smells at home. Vanilla, sugar cookie, cinnamon, coffee house whatever.â âIs a coffee house inherently sweet?â âYes,â Roland replied, âand itâs our biggest disagreement ever.â Matt stopped short, not sure when heâd crossed so much of the room or how close he was to the bed and more beeping machines. âThat so?â âHuh. You want to do this now, then?â Anger really was the most ridiculous reaction. It wasnât Mattâs knee. Wasnât his career or his legacy â which was stupid in its own right because Roland was this team and this city and the only reason theyâd even gotten to the fucking Eastern Conference Finals the season before was because heâd set up the game-winner the series before and it had been a seven-game series and if Matt actually started crying in this overly bright hospital room he was never going to forgive himself.
âIs that the reason for the face?â âYou cannot hold a conversation by only asking me questions,â Matt argued.Â
Roland smiled. Asshole. âCanât I, though?â âHeâs going to have a coronary in front of you,â Henry chided, hooking his foot around the only chair, âand it will be your fault.â âAh, well weâre in the right spot for it. And that wasnât a question, Matt. Means Iâm winning.â âThis isnât a competition,â Matt objected. âAre you serious about this?â And for half a second Roland almost looked like he regretted it. What could have been. What hadnât happened. What had happened. Losing in five in the Eastern Conference Finals. But then it was gone. Replaced with something far closer to resolve and an understanding Matt couldnât begin to wrap his mind around.Â
âThe first time sucked,â he said. âGetting back and trying to get my speed again andââ ââYou are not a fast skater,â Matt interrupted. âYeah, well youâre some freak of genetic nature. So we canât all be like you, can we?â ââNother question.â âConversational marvel, you are.â Matt huffed, blinking quickly and biting down on his lip until he tasted blood to keep himself from unraveling over something that didnât belong to him. âItâs ok,â Roland said, âall of it is, really. Itâsâthis is the end, kid. And Iâm not as freaked out as I thought Iâd be, honestly.â âNo?â âNo. My knees are fucked. Even if I came back, itâd take months. I wouldnât be ready for the start of next season and I donât want to be that guy, Mattie. Showing up in fucking January, like some replacement. Clinging to something thatâs passed me by already. Taking a spot from some other kid. Playing fourth line.â âBut thatâs notââ ââIâm not playing fourth line minutes, Mattie.â Twice. Heâd said it twice, that nickname and all the meaning that came with it and Matt didnât think. Again. Thrusting his hand forward he held onto Rolandâs with enough force that someoneâs knuckles cracked, but he could not begin to guess whose and that was probably some sort of metaphor.Â
For the way they grew up and how much the game had twisted its way into both of their lives andââGotta be the star, huh?â Rolandâs laugh echoed around them. Nothing about it was watery or disappointed, but rather certain and confident and Mattâs dad had always been his favorite player, but heâd been a kid when Killian Jones was captain of the New York Rangers and there was something different about now. About watching Roland come into his own in Philadelphia, a spotlight that was his on his own, not because of the name on his back, but because of how good his wrister was and how much those kids did look up to him. Matt included.Â
âFace of the franchise, Mattie Jones. So, uh,â Roland continued, âthis is it, kid. Not quite perfect. But you know I hate those farewell tours anyway.â âCould have gotten some good gifts,â Henry pointed out. âBringing home some garbage merch from a bunch of Eastern teams that hated me every other day of the year really would have driven Lizzie insane. Plus, think about all the networks thatâll be clamoring for my face on their pre-game shows. Retirementâs got itâs perks.â There it was, kind of.Â
One word and one decision and Matt was briefly worried about the blood flow to Rolandâs hand, but he figured one of the machines would alert them to any problem before it happened andâ âIâm going to retire,â Roland said, like he knew Matt needed to hear it. âAnnouncement coming in the next couple of days, probably. Iâm almost looking forward to the tearful goodbye videos.â âGod, youâre an ass,â Matt grumbled. âOne whoâs going to rake in that TV money.â
Smiling continued to feel more than a little unnatural, but it was some sort of innate reaction in that moment and Matt didnât have to say anything. Roland didnât expect it either, which felt like a bit of a twisted reward, but then he was walking and moving and Henry was still in the room.Â
No one was in the hallway.Â
Made it easier, that way.Â
To quickly and completely go to pieces.Â
Sliding down the wall, Mattâs legs tangled in front of him, tears on his cheeks and oxygen staging some sort of revolt in his body and he wished his girlfriend was there and he wished his dad was there and Peggy still had his phone andâ âHey, hey, hey, at least get your hands out of your hair.â The words didnât connect immediately, another noticeable knuckle crack as Mattâs fingers dug into the strands heâd started gripping at some point. Uncle Liam groaned when he crouched, stymying the threat to Mattâs scalp as he ducked into his eye line.Â
âIf you tell me itâs going to be ok, you donât have to. Iââ Mattâs inconsistent breathing was even more annoying than his sentence structure. âI know itâll be fine. Rolâs choice and for the best and...God, fuck, shit, damnit.â âLast one wasnât very impressive.â âI ran out.â âAh, donât lie to me, kid. I know we taught you way more creative words.â âMostly use that on the ice.â Uncle Liam hummed knowingly, finally letting go of Mattâs hands when it seemed he trusted him not to start yanking on his own hair again. âIt absolutely isnât fine. None of it. Itâs bullshit and unfair and knees are worthless joints anyway.â Matt blinked.Â
His neck ached with the force of his head jerk, gaping and staring and Uncle Liamâs smile shifted slightly. Into something almost like understanding. He knew.Â
He knew.Â
âGame like this, it...it sinks into you, doesnât it? Has to, thatâs the only way you can get through it. Because itâs not like other ones. No grass, no court, no sunshine. Fuck, any sunshine just makes it even harder to see on the ice. And that makes it worse and even better. Because for every time youâve managed to sweat through your pads while shivering at a shitty rink, there are game winners and brekaways and hitting some bastard who thought he was better at faceoffs than you.â âThey measure things like faceoffs now, yâknow?â âIâm giving you a motivational speech.â Matt nodded.Â
âPoint is, a sport like this, it...for as much as it gives, it takes a little bit too. Because youâve got to give yourself to it. Understand that the bumps and the bruises and the incessant cracking of your joints is payment in kind.â âFor?â âFor the way it felt. The way itâll always feel, even when it doesnât end the way you planned.â Letting out a shuddering breath, Matt barely felt his head when it dropped against the wall. âHe never won. Thatâsâof all the things, thatâs the worst.â âSure he did. You donât think so?â âUnless I forgot about a parade.â
âThatâs not how this stuff works, kid,â Liam sighed. âAll those runs when you were growing up, even before you were born, those were Rolâs as much as they were Locksleyâs. As much as they were your dadâs. And anything you do, thatâs his too. Not just because you stole his wrister. Which is kind theft four-times removed, actually.â âHow you figure?â âWell, Rol stole it from your dad who ripped it off me, so. Youâre welcome.â He might need oxygen sooner rather than later. And a tissue. More than one tissue. âThe point Iâm getting at,â Uncle Liam said, âis that thereâs no perfect way for this to go. Happily ever after isnât guaranteed, but it doesnât wipe out everything else that happened. Doesnât change how good this game is or how good it will keep being. You play with a team, right?â âSounds like a cliche.â âYou grow up in that house, some things become entrenched.â âYeah, I get that.â âI know you do. Your sister was talking to your parents before, Iâm sure theyâre waiting for you to get back out there.â It wasnât the dismissal it sounded like, especially when it came with a hand clasped on his shoulder â but Matt nodded all the same, muttering a quiet thanks and Uncle Liam had been right. Mom had totally been crying too.Â
And it wasnât perfect. Wasnât the ending that Roland deserved, but eventually Matt started to wonder if it was actually the end and as the years went on he started to know it wasnât. Not with weddings and kids and a whole subsection of the internet that was decidedly preoccupied with the cut of Rolandâs suits on postgame television spots.Â
They kept going. Games and hits and a few more injuries, and, eventually, when the Stanley Cup came back to New York and back to that brownstone downtown, Matt didnât hesitate. He handed it to Roland.Â
And took a picture.Â
With both of their kid sitting in the goddamn thing.Â
#blue line one shots#HELLO THIS IS VERY ANGSTY AND ALMOST MADE ME CRY WHILE I WAS WRITING IT#operation: write all the things about roland locksley has been going really well the last few weeks#anyway sports emotions are the only emotions that matter
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So today, Iâm gonna talk to you about the most cursed creative decision Iâve ever seen Disney make with one of their Broadway shows. Â
Night of The Living Chippy
Literally the most awful, cursed moment in Beauty & The Beast.Â
I sincerely have no idea if anyone else will find this as flippinâ cursed as I do, but this moment just jumped out at me five years ago, and it has lived rent-free in my head ever since. God, I need to know how the world feels about this. Please PLEASE let me know your thoughts if youâve seen this show on a tour or seen a video of the Broadway production.
Hereâs context (because I spent too much time writing it)
Beauty and The Beast was the first of Disneyâs animated movies to be adapted into a musical, and adapting BatB in particular was ambitious for several reasons. Specifically, how do you create the enchanted objects onstage? How do you make a person look like a clock, or a candlestick, or a teapot, without being unnerving? When you consider what the characters looked like in the Disney World staged versionâŚ
⌠yeah, translating these characters to real life could get weird. The creative team tried out using heavy prosthetics and special effects for the enchanted objects, but realized much of the inhuman elements just looked, well, inhuman. They scrapped them for more natural takes on the looks â for instance, Lumiere has a brilliant white pompadour instead of a melting head â and in general the choices made ended up looking gorgeous and avoiding the uncanny valley look. Here are some pictures of the Broadway costumes:
The writers working on the adaptation modified the Enchantressâ spell to support the more humanoid designs, as well - In the movie, the characters are immediately fully turned into objects, but in the musical, the characters are gradually turning more and more into objects, and are in the near-final stages of becoming fully inanimate objects. (Occasionally, thereâll be a costume change between Act 1 and Act 2 to show the progression.)
Hereâs a picture from a national tour of Beauty & The Beast, featuring the enchanted objects. Note Chip and the cart heâs in, in the center of the picture. There are mirrors carefully placed inside the front of the cart to create the illusion that the cart is hollow and thereâs nothing beneath his head on the plate. Itâs a nifty little magic trick! I saw this tour live in 2015, and the mirror illusion was really convincing.Â
Basically, this is how Chipâs design has always been - the cute lilâ kid just sits in the cart, Mrs. Potts pushes him onstage and offstage for the first scene, and thatâs how itâll go until he turns into a human child at the end, and it never takes a unnerving turn -Â Â
Except it does, and if you wanna watch what Iâm talking about, just click here, (make sure it starts at 30:17) or here. Or if you just wanna look at gifs, scroll down, but I really, really think hearing Chip will give a better sense of what i was feeling.
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So 30 minutes into the show, Mrs. Potts walks onstage carrying a platter with Chip - sorry, Chipâs head - on it. And It bobs its creepy dead-eyed doll face back and forth to mime along to the chirpy pre-recorded voice of Chip. (Do you prefer heavy (below) or minimal (above) neck movement?)Â
A million thoughts sear through my mind.
Oh my god, this is a decapitated mannequin child head on a platter. Oh GOD, it's talking. Oh no, I hate that the little kid voice is coming out of it.Â
. Who are they trying to fool here? KIDS?!
Would it be better or much, much worse if the puppet looked less creepy and more like the kid playing Chip?
- How is Chip even talking with no neck?! -
okay, that is a dumb question because heâs a magic cup, but please forgive me - when he has a human child face, my brain feels a NEED to ask some questions -Â
- Oh god, I donât even like the cart design concept anymore because theyâre still trying to make it look like heâs JUST A HEAD. Who on the creative team was like âso my concept is to make the kid look like a severed head at all times-âÂ
So by the time Maurice is being taken away from Belle, I finally stop thinking about how the actress who plays Mrs. Potts deserves a special award for having to act motherly to ChipSawâs cold, empty little kid-puppet eyes. I enjoyed the rest of the show, but ended up watching a few early bootlegs of the show on YouTube a week later, and realized that not only was puppet-platter-Chip in the original production, the concept stayed in the show and the subsequent productions / tours for 30 freakinâ years. And I was kinda blown away by that because it seems like if I had such a wild reaction to it, someone on the creative team somewhere along the way must have too, right?Â
Anyway, I have absolutely no idea why this is coming to my mind today, but my reflections on it in 2020 are thus:
This is Disney. They have the Hall Of Presidents. Some higher up should have seen that terrifying puppet and been like âuh, we can do betterâ
Why did they specifically cut the other âinhumanâ bits to avoid being uncanny, but keep this moment, which is definitely a little uncanny because itâs a kidâs head on a platter, in the show forever?
Somewhere, there exists a Nick Jonas Chip Head.
Iâve seriously been trying to find a good picture of this scene or of the head backstage for a while because even though it haunts me, I want a good look at it up close to see if itâs better or worse than the bootlegs make it out to be.
So if the musical changes the backstory of the enchanted objects to be going through a gradual transformation into inanimate objects... Were they turned into humanoid objects initially, or did they start out as fully human and then gradually become more object-like?! Did Chip ever have a body? What happened to the rest of Chip?!? I hate that I canât rationalize it as âheâs the cart AND the cupâ because he obviously isnât if Mrs. Potts is just carrying his cup head around.Â
My goal here is absolutely not to inspire anyone to write body horror BatB fic. But god, slowly turning from a human being into a brick wall (this is canon in the musical) sounds terrible for everyone involved.
And finally - my first thought at the time was that itâd be so easy to cut Platter Puppet Chip and have her push the cart heâs normally in, but now I realize that thereâs probably a valid reason for it that we just donât know about. It totally sticks out to have her only carry it for one scene thatâs a minute and a half long. Maybe they wanted to make it easier on the kid wrangler, or on Mrs. Potts, (who is very clearly the only hero of this post)
Thereâs no moral here, only a creepy little puppet child head, but just - PLEASE let me know if you think itâs weird. I literally hate it so MUCH, I canât believe it made it into the show and stayed for 30 frigginâ years, and I need to know I am not alone. Â
#beauty and the beast#beauty and the beast musical#broadway#musicals#batb#beauty & the beast#thoughts#my thoughts
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A Long December (Shalaska) - jazz
Summary: A story about how Sharon and Alaska (probably) met, inspired by this old quote from Alaska:
âWe met almost four years ago. We were both drag queens and knew each other from Myspace. Weâd comment on each otherâs pictures and check each other out that way, but it wasnât until I came back [to Pittsburgh] from L.A. to visit for Christmas that I met him out of drag. I was just like, âThis person is so fun and so funny⌠and he has a really nice ass.â That was it. So I went back to L.A. to close up all my affairs and I moved into his house in Pittsburgh and never left.â
A/N: So, this is pretty canon. Getting back to my roots with 4.k words of some non-AU Shalaska! Many thanks to Rosie for reassuring me that I did their meeting story justice <3
The thing Alaska loved most about the holidays was the Christmas lights.
He loved the sheer abundance of them: loved them when they sparkled, loved how they illuminated his neighborsâ front yards, loved even the ones that were so hideously ugly they hurt his eyeballs.
It reminded him of home, of dragging the worn cardboard box up from the basement as a child and attempting for hours to untangle the mess of rainbow string lights thatâd been collecting dust for nearly a year. Heâd cry when one of the little bulbs went out, as if there werenât hundreds of other twinkling bulbs to make up for it.
He used to drive around aimlessly for hours just to look at them, not that there was much else to do in northwestern Pennsylvania.
Los Angeles winters â less glittery, distinctly lonelier, and a hell of a lot more chintzy â just didnât have the same appeal. So, with Christmas quickly approaching, Alaska packed his bags and hopped on a connecting flight back home to Erie, away from the blown auditions and the callbacks that never came, the late rent checks and the overpriced headshots that he couldnât reallyafford.
But Alaska wasnât about to worry about any of that tonight. Tonight, heâd made the short two-hour drive from Erie to Pittsburgh. He had some old friends that lived in the city, and theyâd gotten him an invite to a house party that a certain someone was rumored to attend.
Alaska smiled in spite of himself. Sharon Needles.
He kept a mental catalogue of all the things he knew about Sharon so far.
He did drag, first of all, something that he and Sharon had bonded over almost instantly. Sharonâs drag was edgy and hideous and horrifying and beautiful, and Alaska was in awe of it. He thought that Sharon might be the smartest person he knew, probably.
He was from middle-of-nowhere, meth-addled Iowa. Alaska had never been to the Midwest, but heâd heard that there was a lot of corn there. Alaska shook his head. Yeah, no, donât talk about corn tonight, he chided himself.
Besides, Sharon was a total Pittsburgher now, adopting the cityâs strange dialect and practically bleeding its colors, black and gold. It suited him well, Alaska thought.
He knew that Sharon had blue eyes â sky blue, he could make out from his profile photos and their select Skype conversations â and a tattoo of Tammy Faye Baker on his upper arm, and that he was perfect, potentially.
Alaska knew better than to get his hopes up, though. Sharon might not even be interested. Theyâd been exchanging messages online for a few weeks now, but that didnât necessarily mean anything. Alaska cringed at the possibility.
It meant something on his end, at least.
Alaska trudged on down the sidewalk, a thin layer of packed snow crunching satisfyingly underneath his feet. He was getting ahead of himself. First, heâd have to show up to the party â a half hour late, obviously, so he didnât seem over-eager. Heâd have a drink â or two or three â to calm his nerves a bit.
Then, heâd ask around for Sharon, all buzzed and aloof, and theyâd embrace, and itâd be magical. Or something like that.
He clutched onto the brown-paper-bagged bottle of whiskey heâd decided to buy last-minute. Â Bringing a gift felt like the polite thing to do, but now he just felt clumsy and awkward as he approached the small house, alcohol in one hand and a dumb Santa hat in the other.
Alaska wiped his boots on the doormat, mentally preparing himself for the night ahead, before letting himself in.
The place smelled strongly of burnt sugar cookies and hard liquor, and he didnât recognize many faces. Someone was singing along to a Mariah Carey cover in the other room, and Alaska found himself wishing he were already a little tipsy.
He made his way through the throngs of guests, all clad in varying shades of red and green, and tossed his winter jacket onto a nearby armchair. His heart sank at the possibility that maybe Sharon had decided to skip the party altogether.
Alaska was about to question why Sharonâs attendance even mattered to him at all when he spotted him from across the room, in an oversized Christmas sweater that had definitely seen better days, cigarette burns garnishing the sleeves heâd cuffed twice around his wrists.
Suddenly, Alaska couldnât have cared less about his surroundings.
His chest expanded as Sharonâs eyes locked with his own, an expression of pleasant surprise washing over his features, before striding over to Alaska purposefully. Alaska watched him approach in slow motion, his vision tunneling in to focus only on Sharon.
âFor me? You shouldnât have, Alaska.â Sharon smiled, his dimple on full display, as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Alaskaâs hand and took an emphatic swig.
Alaskaâs jaw dropped, his breath catching at the way Sharon said his name, how it rolled off his tongue with ease. âI, uh⌠youâre welcome, I guess?â
It was hardly the reception Alaska had envisioned for their first meeting. He racked his brain for a proper conversation-starter, something that said, I can be super fun and flirty, but also interesting and smart, and I think youâre really great, but the words wouldnât come. Instead, he found himself staring at Sharonâs ass, forgetting why heâd cared so much about talking in the first place.
Sharon turned on his heel to walk away then, a signal that, to Alaska, meant their interaction was over. He frowned, until Sharon looked back and extended his free hand.
âYou coming, or not?â he asked, lips pursed. âLetâs get you a beverage.â
Alaska placed his hand in Sharonâs without thinking, felt his universe crumbling and rebuilding itself in that instant.
He let Sharon lead him into the kitchen, too-small and dark, bumping his hip awkwardly against the counter in the process. His fingers were tingling and Sharonâs hand was cool against his own and he hoped Sharon wouldnât let go any time soon. Â
âOh, by the way,â Sharon said flatly, âdonât drink the eggnog.â He made a face over his shoulder.
âNoted,â Alaska laughed.
Sharon disappeared into the refrigerator for a moment, allowing Alaska just enough time to try to compose himself, unsuccessfully. If Sharon backed up a few inches, heâd be pressed right against him, and Alaska felt dizzy at the thought. He hopped up to sit on the counter behind him for something to do, shimmying backwards so that his legs didnât touch the ground.
âHere.â Sharon turned and handed Alaska a plastic cup half-full of red liquid, eyes wandering over Alaska as he inspected the concoction. âIâm not gonna poison you, if thatâs what youâre thinking.â
âHow romantic,â Alaska deadpanned, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.
âI can be.â
Sharon lowered his voice, taking a step closer toward Alaska and parking himself in between his legs. His tone was playful, but Alaska couldnât be sure â not when he could practically feel Sharonâs body heat radiating off of him in waves, sending the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy. Alaska brought the cup to his lips in an effort to distract himself.
âSo youâre liking Pittsburgh?â Alaska asked abruptly, hating how his first instinct was to make small talk, and how Sharonâs eyes glinted at it, like he thrived on Alaskaâs jitters and nervous energy.
âAmericaâs filthiest-kept secret,â Sharon said with a flourish of his hand. âYouâre out in L.A., yeah?â
âYeah, butâŚâ Alaska trailed off. âI dunno, itâs not really working out for me there.â
He was conscious of Sharonâs middle finger tracing the rim of his cup that he held in his lap, his eyes flicking up to meet Alaskaâs when he noticed him watching.
âNoted,â Sharon repeated, smiling slightly.
âWhat?â Alaska drawled, blushing. âWhatâs that face for?â
âYouâre cuter in person, is all.â
Alaska grinned into his drink.
Guests filtered in and out of the kitchen as they chatted, and Alaska hardly noticed any of them, too caught up in how easy it was to talk to Sharon. He told Alaska that heâd been following his drag career out in California for a while now, that Alaskaâs style of drag impressed him and reminded him a bit of his own, and when it got too crowded for their liking, Sharon pulled Alaska outside onto the patio that connected to the kitchen.
Sharon lowered himself onto a bench and grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, let it hang from his lips as he brought a lighter to the butt end. âYou donât mind, do you?â he asked.
âOh, no â not at all,â Alaska sputtered.
âSome people donât like the smell of it,â Sharon said, taking a long, contemplative drag. âBut not me.â
Alaska stared at him, watched the smoke leave his lips and dance above his head, forming a carbon monoxide halo around his mop of bleached blonde hair, sticking up in every which direction. His nose was pink from the cold and Alaska wanted to kiss it, just once.
âAddictionâs a funny thing, yâknow,â Sharon mused.
Alaska nodded solemnly. He had a feeling heâd agree to just about anything that came out of Sharonâs mouth, if he were being honest.
âWhatâre you addicted to, Alaska?â
The question hung in the air, cool and heavy.
You, his heart was screaming, threatening to burst right out of his chest. Iâm addicted to you.
Alaska gulped down the rest of his drink to avoid Sharonâs intense gaze, felt the liquid travel through his body and warm his limbs almost instantly. Â
âShould we head back in soon, see what everyone else is up to?â Alaska tried. âItâs getting kinda cold out here.â
âSit with me, then.â Sharon patted the cushioned spot next to him on the bench, and Alaskaâs pulse quickened. He didnât know how much longer he could handle being that close to Sharon without doing something dumb and impulsive, breathing in his smell and scanning his face and hearing his voice â not behind a computer screen, but right here, close enough to touch.
And Alaska wanted to touch him, badly.Sharon was so real that it hurt, and Alaskaâs bones ached from it.
He thought that, maybe, Sharon was the realest thing heâd ever known in his life. When Sharon looked at him, it was inquisitive and sharp, and Alaska felt fully seen, like Sharon had him all figured out without saying a word. Alaska didnât know what to do with that, wasnât used to feeling so exposed.
He gravitated toward Sharon, settling into the space under the arm that heâd draped casually over the top of the bench. They sat there like that, in comfortable silence, for what felt like minutes.
âI like you, Alaska,â Sharon said, matter-of-fact, snubbing his cigarette out on an ashtray. âA lot, actually.â
His boldness caught Alaska off guard, and he half-considered that maybe the nicotine, or the alcohol, or some combination of the two, had damaged Sharonâs better judgment.
âYouâre special, I think,â he continued.
âI think youâve got the wrong person,â Alaska drawled. He hiccupped, likely from chugging the remains of his drink too quickly, and giggled nervously at the possibility that Sharon really meant it.
ââ
Over the course of the night, Alaska learned that Sharon was nothing like heâd expected â but somehow, even better than heâd hoped.
He was fun, and he was hilarious, and, when Alaska caught himself staring at him for far too long as Sharon danced to a pop remix of âLast Christmasâ on top of an old couch, mouthing all the words at Alaska like he was singing it just for him, Alaska knew he needed a moment to collect his racing thoughts.
He shot Sharon an apologetic smile as he ducked away and disappeared into the sea of partygoers, darting toward the staircase in hopes that it might be a little quieter upstairs, that he could freshen up and maybe get it together.
He wandered into the room at the end of the carpeted hallway, expecting a bathroom but instead finding a spare bedroom. He sighed, dragging his hands over his face. Alaska was in too deep, he could feel it, didnât know whether he wanted to be sick or if he wanted to run straight into Sharonâs arms.
Itâs just a crush, Alaska told himself, unconvincingly. He pictured the way Sharonâs lips had closed around his bottle of whiskey, how delicate his hands had looked as he balanced a cigarette between his fingers, and wondered how those same lips and hands might feel running over his own body tonight, and tomorrow, and maybe the next day after that.
âWhat, I didnât scare you away down there, did I?â Sharon asked.
Alaska jumped, spinning around at hearing Sharonâs voice from behind him. He looked almost sheepish, arms hanging at his sides, and Alaska could see his veins from where heâd pushed up his sleeves.
âOh, no, this is just⌠a lot,â Alaska tried, licking his lips absentmindedly. âItâs a lot.â
Somehow, Sharon seemed to understand. He closed the door, traveled the rest of the distance between them and took Alaskaâs hands in his own. âLook at me,â he said.
Alaska hesitantly locked eyes with him, fully aware of how close they were standing now, how alone they were, and his heartbeat thudded in his ears.
Sharon reached up and tucked a finger underneath Alaskaâs chin, made sure he couldnât look away. âYou feel this, too, right?â Sharon asked, quietly.
Alaska wasnât breathing. He thought he gave a small nod, but his knees were shaking and he knew that if he leaned in, right now, heâd be done.
Luckily for him, Sharon was the first to fall.
He shoved Alaska against the dresser, hands cradling his face as he kissed him, hard and impatient. Alaska was putty underneath Sharonâs grip, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up with his body.
Sharon was kissing him.
Sharon was kissing him firmly like heâd been starving, and Alaska was his remedy â and maybe he was, as Alaska instinctively wrapped his own hands around Sharonâs thin wrists, willed with his tongue for Sharon to understand that he felt it, too.
It wasnât long before kissing wasnât enough. Sharon had a thigh rutted between Alaskaâs bowed legs and he pressed down on it greedily. Alaska moved his fingers to coil in Sharonâs blonde hair, and when he tugged gently, he felt Sharon audibly whimper into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his abdomen. Â
Alaska had been with plenty of guys before, but not like this â Sharon was clinging to him like he was afraid Alaska might slip through his fingers otherwise.
âSharon, IâŚâ Alaska began, and then trailed off, lips ghosting over Sharonâs cheek, his nose. He realized all at once that he didnât have the words to articulate what exactly was taking place, just that it felt distinctly important.
âYeah,â Sharon breathed, in between kisses. âMe too.â
Alaska sunk to his knees at that, shoving Sharonâs jeans down to his ankles as he went. Sharonâs pupils were blown out black as he watched Alaska, who was palming Sharonâs already-hard cock over the fabric of his underwear. Alaska didnât think about what he was doing, not really â didnât dwell on the fact that he wanted to please Sharon more than heâd wanted to please anybody, or that heâd been semi-hard, seeing stars as soon as Sharonâs lips touched his.
He just hollowed his cheeks, tried to take as much of Sharon as he possibly could into his mouth.
Sharon clutched onto the edge of the dresser for support, lips parted. Alaska developed a steady rhythm, used one hand to move in tandem with his tongue as he bobbed his head to suck at Sharonâs hardness.
When Alaska moaned, so did Sharon.
Alaska flattened his tongue against the underside of Sharonâs length, hummed around him. Sharon began to rock his hips forward, hitting the back of Alaskaâs throat with each thrust, before abruptly pulling out.
He tugged Alaska back to his feet, smattering kisses along the curve of his neck. âWanna make this last,â Sharon explained hoarsely.
Alaska could tell that Sharon was leaving marks, and was glad for it: he wanted to wake up tomorrow and remember where Sharon had been, see and feel where heâd paid special attention.
And then Sharon was spinning him around and maneuvering him towards the bed, yanking Alaskaâs shirt up and over his head impatiently as Alaska kicked off his own pants, a clumsy dance of flying fabric and tangled limbs. Alaskaâs hands flew to Sharonâs bare shoulder blades, his chest, warm and soft underneath his fingertips. Â
It felt surreal, that they were doing this â and yet, it didnât surprise Alaska in the slightest. He felt surprisingly comfortable, safe, even as Sharon pushed him backward onto the bed, pinning him underneath his body.
Sharon hovered over Alaska for a few moments, scanning him with those eyes again, before Alaska pulled him down by the back of the neck, cocks rutting together as Alaskaâs tongue traced the shell of Sharonâs ear.
âPlease,â Alaska begged, breathless. âSharon, fuck â I need you. I really, really need you.â
Sharon closed his eyes and let out a huge breath, like the sound of Alaskaâs voice, whiny and broken, did things to him. Alaska looked up at him, his hair falling into his face, tried to scoot his hips closer towards Sharonâs lap.
Sharon didnât need much more encouragement than that.
He flipped Alaska onto his stomach, and Alaska wiggled his ass out for Sharon, who soothed his hands over the smooth skin. He felt delirious, how badly he wanted Sharon to fill him up, make him muffle his screams into the pillow.
And he knew that Sharon would be good to him â he could tell from the way Sharon made sure to kiss every notch on his spine, open-mouthed and careful. Alaska frantically reached over to the bedside table, ransacking two separate drawers before finding a small bottle of lube and a box of condoms, and he said a silent prayer.
Sharonâs hands were trembling as he slicked up his fingers, uttering a hoarse, âYou sure, Lasky?â
Alaska had never been more sure of anything, nodding feverishly at the headboard, trying to remember how to breathe.
He didnât know what any of this might mean moving forward for him and Sharon â if there even was such a thing as a âhim and Sharonâ â but he refused to worry about that now, not when Sharon eased one finger into him and then two, reducing Alaska to a moaning mess as he arched his back at the contact.
Sharon bowed his head and pressed his lips to Alaskaâs shoulder blade, and when he finally entered him, it was with a slow roll of his hips, breath still dancing on Alaskaâs back.
Alaskaâs jaw went slack, his mouth falling open in a silent scream.
Then Sharon began to move: small and shallow thrusts at first, clearly restraining himself. âOh, shit, Lasky, you feel so⌠so good.â
âSharon, I need⌠move, Shar, pleaseâŚâ
âW-wait, hold on,â Sharon said, pulling out of Alaska decidedly. Alaska whined at the loss, until Sharon turned him over, scanned his face. âI wanna see you.â
Sharon appraised Alaskaâs features: his cheeks, flushed pink, and his kiss-swollen lips, which Sharon leaned down to kiss again, quick and sloppy. Alaska drew his knees up, reaching down to guide Sharon back inside him.
Alaska watched as Sharonâs forehead crinkled, lips parted to let out a breathy exhale. Alaska couldnât keep from staring, from committing his facial expression to memory â until Sharon shifted his hips the tiniest bit, reminding Alaska of his own throbbing cock, the desire welling up in the pit of his stomach.
He tilted his head back and moaned, exposing his throat for Sharon to nip at as he slammed into him, skin slapping against skin.
Alaska fell apart beneath him, grabbing Sharonâs ass to urge him on, lifting his legs so Sharon could go deeper, harder â a frenzy of clawing hands and salty kisses, more lips brushing against lips than anything else. When Sharon reached for Alaskaâs neglected cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, Alaska spilled into his hand, sobbing Sharonâs name almost incoherently, over and over again, the only word that mattered.
Sharon followed suit, shuddering into Alaska before letting his head drop to Alaskaâs collarbone.
âGod,â was all he murmured, and it was as good as I love you.
âI know,â Alaska breathed.
Alaska slid out of bed on shaky legs after Sharon cleaned them both up, bent down to grab the first article of clothing he could find on the floor â Sharon���s Christmas sweater. He tugged it over his head, smiling at the feeling of Sharonâs eyes glued to him, his body.
âYouâre so pretty, baby.â
Alaska giggled, crawling back into bed with Sharon eagerly, nuzzling against him like theyâd done this countless times before. In some ways, it felt like they had.
âTell me how much you like me again,â Alaska purred.
âMore than I know what to do with,â Sharon replied, and the honesty in his voice was jarring. âProbably too much.â
Alaska stared at the adjacent wall in silence, considering the full weight of Sharonâs words, realizing all at once that he felt the same way â and remembering suddenly that they lived on opposite sides of the country. It hit him like a punch in the gut.
âI donât think I can do long-distance right now,â Alaska choked out. âI just canât.â
Sharon rolled onto his side to face Alaska, propping his head up with his hand. âI wasnât expecting you to, Lasky,â he said, his voice quiet.
Alaska squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel himself ruining the moment, and wished he couldâve just left good enough alone. Sharon probably thought that he was clingy beyond belief, and embarrassment burned hot in his cheeks.
âSo what now, then?â Alaska asked, bracing himself for what was sure to be a letdown.
There was a pregnant pause before Sharon replied.
âSo, move in with me.â
âWhat?â Alaska stammered, rolling over hurriedly and getting tangled in the sheets. He searched Sharonâs face, looked for any sign that he might be kidding, but instead only found a set of blue eyes, locked with his own.
âIt could be like this, all the time,â Sharon said softly.
âYou⌠you hardly know me.â
âI know enough.â
Alaska swallowed the lump in his throat, fought the urge to smatter kisses all over Sharonâs dumb face, which was sporting a small, hopeful smile now.
Alaska wanted it â he wanted all of it. He wanted to share a closet and take up too much space in the bathroom, wanted to wake up on Christmas morning next to Sharon and watch Bette Davis documentaries in bed. He wanted to feel Sharon pressed against him when he fell asleep at night, wouldnât even care if Sharon ran hot or snored lightly into his neck. Heâd let Sharon show him around town, too; theyâd go out and make fools of themselves on stage and Sharon would take Alaska home at the end of their gigs, fuck him hard into the mattress and kiss him on the lips afterward.
Alaska knew heâd say yes before the words were even out of his mouth. This was right. This felt right.
He threw his body on top of Sharonâs, bare legs straddling his torso, and repeated yes against his lips until he was forced to come up for air, Sharonâs eyes twinkling like the Christmas lights lining the snow-covered street outside.
#shalaska#sharon needles#alaska thunderfuck#smut#non-au#christmas#tw mention of addictions#jazz#rpdr fanfiction#canon compliant
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