Here is a thing

[whirlpool-blogs]

I am three minutes into this oilers locker room tour and they are showing me their auto sensor urinals that light up to indicate how hydrated you are or aren’t x

[slashdraisaitl]

[leondraisaitlsglove]

└ Oilers vs Canucks / May 8th 2021; Connor hits 100 points on Leon’s goal

[helenish]

The white witch is offering me an open-faced sandwich: 7 grain bread lightly toasted, smudge of mayo (not too much), a precarious pile of thin-sliced summer tomato and I am making the only sane and logical choice which is to hand over the coordinates for my family members so that she can nuke them from orbit and to ask for seconds.

[helenish]

Incorporating “the dressing room wasn’t pushing for him to stay” into my vocabulary immediately.

[helenish]

I got an ask a few months ago and started to reply to it today and then tumblr ATE IT and I can't find the tumblr of the person who sent it and--

so here's the thing, I thought that what this person was asking me was why aren't my popslash stories online?

and I was so profoundly excited to come here and explain all about how I didn't respond for a few months because I was working on my ego death (accelerated by looking in the mirror and reminding myself, "you write hockey rpf.") and so here I was, ready to just Get Over Myself already, the stories are uploaded, and I was SO enlightened and had found love in my heart for all my past selves even though they were very embarrassing, maybe even because they were embarrassing, and then when I re-read this ask it actually wasn't about that at all (more ego death, since no one was really asking to see those stories at all, but I rose above it) and now I'm here because the ask was actually:

hey, look, if you have a moment, what happens in this unfinished untitled turn-of-the-century popslash AU that is based in its entirety on this picture?

and then I responded but tumblr disappeared my post and the ask but I have now come too far and must continue.

Okay, so of course, The Revolution happens and they overthrow the unjust dictatorship they've spent their lives fighting against and install a fair and democratic government and usher in an unprecedented era of peace and prosperity.

Lance dies tragically saving Justin’s life, as a final act of his doomed love for Joey, probably bleeding out in Justin's arms, telling Justin to take care of Joey while Justin holds him and rocks back and forth and says "I will, I promise, I will--" his voice breaking.

Justin and JC become key (however also democratically elected) figures in the new administration. Joey and Justin work through the inverted power imbalance this causes—oh! let’s say Joey is nobly serving out a prison sentence for—oh, probably killing the guy who killed Lance, but insists on a trial to demonstrate that no one is above the law in the new administration.

Justin visits him in prison with his hair shorn down, wearing a fisherman sweater with sleeves pushed up over his forearms and looking terribly grown and important. They spend time really getting to know each other and discovering that in addition to their smoldering sexual chemistry which they can't act on while Joey is imprisoned (the longing!!) , they also like each other. Joey has gray streaks in his hair and wears glasses and learns how to read in prison.

Chris overcomes his past trauma and becomes a stay at home father to the orphan children he’s raising with JC and he also has a pottery studio where he makes beautiful and functional bowls and mugs and finally finds peace and sleeps through every night in bed curled up next to JC who is sometimes up late working, but only because he has found a meaning and joy through work to better society and also because sometimes the dog who sleeps at the foot of their bed and is devoted to Chris needs to go out and he doesn't want to wake Chris. (They have great sex also.)

Bug becomes a motorcycle mechanic and has an alpaca farm.

[helenish]

Sometimes writing is Cut to the Feeling but more often it is:

[helenish]

if corporate has rolled back storebought pride, homemade is fine.

[helenish]

Not news to anyone but consider it replication of known findings: the most productive writing time of your life is three minutes after you were supposed to be out the door and on your way to work.

[helenish]

He’s here with all his friends.

[helenish]

losing the courage of my convictions what am I even doing, this is 1000 words of guys saying "yeah," to each other but, get this, sometimes they DON'T REALLY MEAN "yeah" at all, never mind, I got this, I've herded my convictions mostly back into the henhouse #myyeahs, #myconvictions

[helenish]

Forgot the real Oilers existed and was just living in my head with the pretend Oilers and then I’m perusing the Edmonton Oilers reddit and they’re all upset about scapegoating the coach and writing all this frankly juicy as hell stuff about McDavid and Draisaitl “calling him out” and how he needed to “hold players accountable” (mm-hmmmmm) and how fucked up management is and I’m like damn this is real good stuff is anyone else experiencing this??? Love your work oil country reddit, frankly I’m normally too tender-hearted to deal with it but sometimes you just want something gritty and raw.

[helenish]

I am at the UPS store to drop off a package and the woman who runs it has had surgery, her arm held immobile away from her body with a plastic brace, a thin plastic tube dangling from beneath her shirt.

"I had surgery yesterday," she says. She's bustling around, trying to straighten floor mats with one hand. She can scarcely bend down. "oh I look terrible."

"Yesterday!" I said. "No, you look great, are you kidding? I'd still be on the couch." We don't know each other really but I recognize her in the way you recognize someone who notarizes all your documents. Good grade in social interaction, I tell myself.

"Can you throw my hair up for me before you go?" she says, to the tall young woman who's behind the counter. "Sorry," she says to me.

"Don't worry about it," I say. "It's really tough when you can't--" I gesture vaguely, meaning, "do anything for yourself."

"She can't take a shower for three days," tall young woman whose name, I have learned, is Lena, says.

"Oh no," I say.

"And she takes five showers a day--"

"It's not five," she protests. "This is my son, by the way," she says, gesturing at the college age guy who unlocked the door.

"Hello," we say to each other. He says to her,

"You're gonna be stinky."

"Sometimes it's five, but--" I'm feeling like part of the family. I'm smiling about how funny it will be that this woman can't take her showers.

"It'll feel great when you finally can," I say, and we all agree yes it will. Everyone--even me--is vaguely surprised when I hold up my package and say, tentatively,

"so can I--"

"oh! right," she says. The son scans my QR code.

"Feel better!" I call as I leave.

"You take care now," she says.

Look at this woman--older, ugly in an unremarkable way, raspy voiced, ratty hair--surrounded by love. Lena's gentle hands combing down through her hair, looping it up. Her son's voice, quiet and fond.

Don't let them tell you love is hard, hard to find, hard to keep. Don't let them tell you to stay perfect or else. It's not true.

[helenish]

I'm posting from here

[helenish]

if you approach it with an open mind, almost anything (work meetings; decluttering your basement; emails you’re being a big baby about for no reason) can be a type of predicament bondage and thus fun and sexy.

[helenish]

must feel good as hell to ride on the conveyor belt and then fall into blackness and get crunched in the can return machine

[helenish]

Flowers burst forth, trees green, summer beckons, yet malaise troubles me this day. Oh, no, it's nothing really, the duties of my rule, the dark forces that mass beyond the citadel, these shadows fall over you as well, I know. But trouble yourself not over such matters now—bring forth my court jester to raise our spirits and join us in merriment with his performance of one of my favorite epics of comic poesie--