Request: Could you do something fluffy w Lin, idk why but could you?- anon
Summary: “you’re talking to yourself in a silent library about how much you hate studying and how you’re going to fail, need help? i just so happen to major in that subject and oh shit, you’re really cute”
Warnings: first fic? otherwise just lots of fluff and a little awkward Lin.
A/N: have fun, and I’d really appreciate feedback!
sometimes it’s almost one am and you put down your micheletto fic to worry about how, in the hp/justified au, it would in fact be a lot less justified for a lawman to use the killing curse on people than it would be for that same lawman to shoot people under similar circumstances.
and then you’re like: no, it’s still okay, the USA probably only has two Unforgiveables*. Probably there are arguments that Avada Kedavra is covered under the first second amendment. Probably there are a lot of angry activists who frequently bring up the fact that Avada Kedavra is considered an Unforgiveable in almost every other country in the wizarding world, but in America wizarding kids grow up casting avada kedavra at squirrels, and every once in a while there’s a tragic accident but nobody wants to give up the death curse enough to make the death curse illegal.
Raylan: still (legally) justified. Morally he kind of. never was. so. we’re good.
I know I saw it in the summer, which was a while ago, but some details of the current Broadway production keep popping into my head so I thought I’d write them down now.
the prostitutes break my fucking heart. each and every one is completely rounded out as an individual by her actress, and even though they’re not onstage for most of the show, i became attached to many of them within a few minutes. one in particular (i don’t know who played her) is clearly suffering after some sort of disease or miscarriage/abortion, but continues working, and i almost cried for her.
…and so does Turning. during Turning, several women walk out and place candles on the ground. everyone knows how sad that song is–the lyrics are absolutely crushing. but one woman appears to have a daughter (previously young cosette), who asks “who will wake them” as if she genuinely expects Les Amis to return. me too, little girl, me too.
…ok Empty Chairs kills me too tbh. Les Amis show up as ghosts during Marius’s lament, and they pick up the candles themourners left during Turning–only to blow them out and leave Marius in relative darkness.
Gavroche’s death is Not OK (wtf, Joe Spieldenner). when Gavroche is singing the reprise of “Little People,” he’s behind the Barricade. the only indication of what’s happening is gunshots during pauses, followed by his continued singing–even though i know the score by heart, i was convinced that Gav had died after each shot. eventually he climbs the barricade, only to be shot as he comes into view. then he falls forward, eventually ending up in Grantaire’s arms. Joe’s R gives a horrific, heartwrenching cry at the sight of Gav’s body, stumbling off with him.
E/R is completely one-sided. this would have irritated me more if Joe weren’t playing R so magnificently. his R pines in such a gloriously bitter and sarcastic way, while Enjolras is completely uninterested and unsympathetic–the chemistry is utterly one-sided, and Joe spins it perfectly so that your heart breaks for his surprisingly tender (toward Gavroche, at least) Grantaire.
I’m in love with Feuilly. you don’t usually expect to have a favourite “minor” Amis with stage productions, since they’re not fleshed out very well, but Forbach’s Feuilly was terrific. he truly became his character, his love for the Revolution and France shining through every time he stepped on stage, and i’ll admit i was disappointed not to have an opportunity to see him as Enj.
Since the show is closing soon, I wanted to share the incredible good fortune I had in getting to see it in person, and describe the unique pieces that stayed with me after all this time! If you have any questions about specific parts, I’d be happy to answer any asks about it.
Summary:Emma is on her way to Granny’s when a teen version of Regina Mills
seemingly pops out of thin air and smacks right into her. Emma and
present-day Regina must work together to figure out why the curious
young teen is there and how to send her back before the past is
irreparably changed, thus altering their entire lives in the present.
Young!Regina Rated T, subject to change.
“When they tell you that they’re sure this cure will do the trick and change her. When they say that every time, and every time she just gets stranger. When you know you've heard those lies before, seen it in their eyes before, as you sat at that pathetic dinner table. Knowing you’d leave if only you were able, that feeling has a label: You’re growing up unstable”
Remember how our futures used to be so far away that not even the tipiest part of our toes on our spindly legs could touch them? Remember how “growing up” held no boundaries, no limitations?
Like, yeah, when I grow up, I’m gonna be a rock star. Or maybe an astronaut. Because in those days student loans weren’t even thoughts in our brains and the difference between a rock star and an astronaut was the direction of our dandelion wishes- and maybe that they wore different outfits.
And remember our first fight? It was in the parking lot of a Taco Bell, in the bed of my dad’s truck, and we yelled so hard our voices gave out but our fists still screamed with petty rivalries. Remember how our worst nightmare was a bad hair day?
I mean, because, growing up there was no clamp on our shoulder blade wings, no concept of time except for the fact that we lost a tooth here and there and on that playground swing set…man, we were gods.
Gods. Like swimming pools were the realms of our creation and here I could fuse your heels to make you a mermaid tail in your favorite color. And then with age our parents told us to get sober- we had been drunk on ignorance and bliss for too long. So we worried and we worked and we hustled our asses off, only to look back and see that in fact, we had not gone the distance.
We got test results back that slapped us in the face, told us we would never be able to do this. Do you remember those ramen noodle days? And the nights where our bodies clung so tight together, stuck skin from sweat and an absolute desperation to get rid of this loneliness. To feel the solid breath coming from a lover, a reassurance like, hey, you made it this far.
Like- fuck. We listen too often when they tell us to grow up. Cast away our innocence, our blind perseverance towards reckless dreams in favor of a checking account. Of a safe future. As if daydreaming about being the first kid on Jupiter was ever a bad thing. As if the ability to stand again when we’ve already fucked up, to scrape our knees but keep running, were ever wrong.
I’m telling you, we have to march ourselves to a different song. This rhythm of reality, of adulthood…it’s tearing us up. You see the paper cuts. The dark circles under your classmates eyes, the lines against your own wrist, the tear stains on your biology teacher’s cheeks. We cannot keep dancing through the game of monotony.
So let your dreams be every day things. Reminiscing in the past will only break apart your heart strings. We have to press on. With the gusto of a little kid, the stubborness of your neice or your nephew. I urge you…do not rob yourself like I did.
Mold shapes out of clouds. Imagine your hands sinking in to the murky depths of the Milky Way, your lungs filling with stardust every time they expand. There is innocence in the small things.
You wanna be a pop star? Be one. Because in life we only get one shot. And we can’t waste any more time regretting the things we’re not.