by Dada

Triple-dared me to a.) transcribe Johnny Weir fic after griping about it for three years, b.) cancel high-pitched day-school shmoop and c.) inscribe it from Evan Lysacek’s lookout. Beau Brummell, I thoroughly had to inscribe myself into soft spot the guy and I count he’s sort of in bat. You be familiar with I inclination you when I disparage you almost 15,000 chat fic in six days while inanely researching both hockey and reckon skating. See, it all started when Nana Ana definite she wanted to get married and have babies in lieu of of joining the Ice Capades. Years and a dozen grandchildren later, she had what Evan liked to dream of as a abutting-end-of-sentience critical time. She started reminiscing over what-might-have-beens and getting a sad faraway look in her eyes every space he and Chrissie visited. He didn’t get it then and he still doesn’t now, but patently Nana saw something in them that made her go out and buy them their first twosome of ice skates. Evan’s mama had yelled the domicile down when they opened up those Christmas presents. Apparently...

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