#don't fucking talk down to me when i try to get clarification on shit

[campingwiththecharmings]

sometimes i get the impression that my boss thinks i'm a complete idiot and it pisses me tf off

[thestrangestthing89]

It's not an apology, it's a clarification. He very directly says "you misconstrued what I said" a thing multiple people around here have been trying to say for months. He said this exact same thing in an Instagram post he made a few months ago but people lack the reading comprehension skills to follow something like that. So he said it in a TikTok video again only some people are still not understanding. And it's because they don't want to. (He has recently taken his Instagram post down, I'm guessing because he is getting relentlessly harassed.) The truth of the matter is that many people didn't take the time to understand basic facts about this situation (like what the word Zionism actually means) and the result was that a lot of misinformation spread because people were desperate to make sure their followers knew they were The Most Progressive and The Most Anti-Racist. They did not talk about this issue in a way that was culturally sensitive. They made assumptions about Noah based on anti-Semitic stereotypes and I don't even think they realize they are doing it because, again, they aren't well-informed. But every time someone twists the word Zionism to mean "pro-genocide" and makes the flying leap that anyone using that word is laughing at people dying they are falling into the stereotype that Jews are bloodthirsty. Anytime people say that any Jewish person has the wrong information in this situation and needs to education themselves about their own culture, they are believing that Jews can't be trusted. They did all of these things to Noah and they did it very easily because they are ignorant. These people essentially turned into an angry mob. I can't even count the amount of comments I saw that were basically "I hate Noah too!!! Wait, what did he do? Someone tell me!" They piled on because their peers were doing it and not because they had any clue what the problem was. It was the cool and trendy thing to do so they did it. And they deluded themselves into thinking they were saving Palestinians in the process when they actually didn't do shit for anyone. The only problem is that the people who did this didn't take the time to inform themselves before piling on. Noah didn't apologize to them because he doesn't have to. They owe him an apology though and I think the ones with larger followings are responsible for a lot of this and imo are lucky they didn't get sued for defamation. He didn't do any of the things they are accusing him. They decided for themselves what he thought and believed based on very little information and they have no right to do this to anyone. They seriously think Noah is responsible for single-handedly killing people. He's not in the military or a politician. He didn't even endorse anyone who did. This whole situation is the stupidest fucking thing in the world. They are more outraged over the bullshit they made up about him the actual political situation and it's because they don't actually care. They are using Palestinians as an excuse to say hateful things, but they aren't helping them at all. I don't think Gen Z-ers are realizing that everyone older than them is getting increasingly more concerned about the way they go about their political activism. It's a serious problem and this current political situation only highlighted problems with them that had been occurring for a while now. Relentlessly harassing any Jewish person online for not speaking exactly to your liking isn't activism. Threatening to kill people who disagree with you isn't activism. Trying to ruin someone's career because they didn't act like your parasocial bestie isn't activism. Spamming the comments of everyone's posts with Free Palestine isn't activism and it sure as hell isn't what spreading awareness looks like. That requires being well informed first. Not to mention learning how to have difficult conversations without screaming hysterically at people and shouting that they must be pro-genocide/racist/misogynist/homophobic every damn second just because they said something you didn't take the time to understand.

They need to learn to ask for a clarification before assuming the absolute worst about people. They do this to people in the fandom constantly and it's why no one decent posts here regularly anymore. They are ignorant, plain and simple. But they are so desperate for peer approval and for people to think they are the best activists ever that they don't realize how much damage they do when they behave this way.

The people still pissed at Noah were always going to be. They were always going to pick him apart because they are anti-Semitic and they made that very clear. All he is saying is that people need to understand that both Jews and Palestinians are human and stop taking sides. A thing that anyone with a shred of human decency has been saying for months. The people who haven't been saying this tend to be very young (teens and early 20s) and it's because they fell for a lot of unverified information on TikTok - something that is concerning a lot of people given that it is an election year in the US. All anyone had to do here was listen and they didn't. They are too busy trying to be morally superior to anyone to bother having an actual conversation. They still aren't listening. There was nothing wrong with what Noah said here either. But people are determined to believe that he was laughing at people dying when he wasn't. This literally never happened. They just heard a word they weren't familiar with a jumped to awful conclusions. It's not their place to educate anyone on anything. They are not qualified to do so. And I wish people were smarter about who they were reblogging and weren't so desperate to get more followers by jumping on the bandwagon. They cause so much drama in the fandom constantly by acting like this. This is just the latest example.

The people who think it's now suddenly ok to be violent and homophobic towards someone just because they perceived that person to do something they didn't like, were waiting for an opportunity. They wanted to be horrible and they think they got a reason. They didn't and there is never a reason to behave like this. But it did reveal just how many people in this fandom are horrible human beings. The people who weren't saying this directly were still agreeing with those people and were not better than them. It should have set alarm bells off in their heads that the only people who agreed with them were being vile. That should have been the first clue they were on the wrong side. I wish people learned to think for themselves better. They were clearly jumping on the bandwagon and didn't understand what was going on. And I stand by my comment from a few months ago, we would not be dealing with relentless drama in the fandom if the show had a higher rating. And I do think they need to focus more on their original adult audience again. Most of us do not feel comfortable posting regularly in this fandom when it got taken over by kids who don't understand any of the things they are upset about, but they are upset with everyone and everything constantly. No one came here to babysit.

[nightshadehoney]

I never watched James Somerton's shitty Killing Stalking video because I was trying to be good to myself and avoid something that I knew would make me very angry. In fact, I never watched any of his stuff because the fact that he made a video like that was enough to discount any thing he ever had to say (also I heard about the Celluloid Closet plagiarism).

But man, is the James Somerton discourse bringing a lot of Killing Stalking-related feelings back up for me. Because I'm mad; I'm still so mad. There are a suprising amount of people on social media who are saying they never watched any of his stuff except for the Killing Stalking video. I'm annoyed not just to find out that the vid had that sort of reach and influence, but also because Somerton's unmasking hasn't seemed to make people reasses the validity of the kind of thing he was saying. People are just now being like "hmm I think this guy might have Issues With Women" but that doesn't warrant any reflection on what exactly the motivation is of people who complain about women enjoying a niche webcomic? Because I don't actually believe you're concerned about the influence of some obscure piece of media when you advertise its existence to your large audience many of whom had not heard of it and would never have heard of it but for your transparent outrage porn video. It's rage bait and the target was women that are perceived as straight. A big channel has publicized the fact that they excised a section that endorsed the opinions in this video from their own because they became aware of Somerton's plagiarism and dishonesty (presumably; if it was actually because they recognized his views were coming from a sexist place I would welcome a clarification). And you know, I don't think that's a good look actually. That you needed to be told he was a bad person and couldn't idependently put together that the misogynist man was saying misogynist things.

The comic ended years ago and the fandom has gone mostly quiet, but to this day people are still the peddling the"fujoshi/stupid teenage girls who don't know what's good for them are shipping these characters because they are too braindead to realize it's not a romance; it's a horror, two things I believe are mutually exclusive. I am smarter than all of these cringe degenerates" bullshit. It's in the comments of the hbomberguy video even; one comment was such a gross misrepresentation of the series that my friend needed to talk me down from getting into a pointless youtube comments argument (bless him) because these people are officially making me lose my marbles.

This narrative is full of shit, it's demonstrably not fucking true. You can go on the artist's twitter right now and its full of her retweeting shippy fanart of that pairing readers were apparently never intended to ship.

(I don't think Koogi knows or cares about James Somerton; she just reblogs the works of fans who tag her. This made me laugh though).

Now this is all speculation because he died decades before social media existed, but I think if Nabokov was alive today his twitter would not be full of Humbert Humbert x Dolores Haze fanart. And yet, I have unironically seen people compare shipping Sangwoo and Bum in Killing Stalking with the misreading of Lolita as a precocious sexual temptress more than once.

And this isn't me saying that Killing Stalking is the disgusting"pro-sexualized abuse" comic that tumblr purity police used to characterize it as either. One of these days I'm going to go truly bonkers and end up banging pots and pans on the street corner, yelling at random innocent passerbys about how stories about romantic and sexual relationships are not required to be Hallmark movies. You can make art about the negative, dark, and troubling parts of these feelings and relationships without creating a pat morality tale. You don't need to approach media analysis like your 7th grade teacher has assigned you an essay on explaining what a novel's "message" is.

Nobody, not the author and not the fans, genuinely thinks that Sangwoo and Bum have a healthy or aspirational relationship. This hypothetical person that does not understand the relationship is toxic doesn't exist. Because girls and women, even the ones having cringey fandom fun on tiktok or whatever, are not so stupid and naive that they are unware that breaking someone's legs and locking them in a muder basement is bad. The type of concern troll rhetoric Somerton employed in his video is directed near exclusively at women interested in men and there's a reason for this. Women are not responsible for abuse that men do to them; nobody is responsible for their partner abusing them. If I never saw people spit this bullshit again it would be too soon.

[butch-reidentified]

autistic woman who doesn't know macro at all here--i actually understood the post people keep thinking is saying het-partnered women have no privileges first time i read it, so i'm wondering if maybe it's just that old classic misunderstanding trick. i know i say things a lot that make sense in my head but end up sounding totally different from what i meant. usually autistic people are better at understanding what i mean. i get the feeling that's probably what happened here

yeah fr. I'm just irritated bc STILL I'm being misunderstood on basic shit. do we not speak the same language? I said it was poorly worded, I said macroclit acknowledged that too, and mena replied with some "maybe other ppl aren't the problem" shit?? like yeah that's what we both said??? but also that phrasing in context of talking about how ppl treat autistic women makes my skin crawl. yeah our disability is the problem, what do you want me to do about it exactly??? it's on the women who claim to have our backs to grant us space to explain ourselves when we are misunderstood. it is not on us to magically stop being autistic. I fucking PROMISE YOU even with all these misunderstandings, we are driving ourselves fucking insane in our heads trying to speak your language!! and when you still can't understand us and then insist any attempt at clarification is lying, it's fucking gutting tbqh. there is no way out. there is no right way for us to exist or have a voice. it's exhausting. it wears you down so so so much

I'm genuinely tired of having to pretend autism doesn't affect me on radblr, and any time I bring it up in a directly relevant context it's "just an excuse" as if it isnt a literal disability lmfao. like honestly go fuck yourselves. I'm done with it. I don't bring it up unless I genuinely believe that's the issue but a lotttt of ppl would truly rather just assume the worst of everyone all the time.

[variousqueerthings]

i went and read through all the scorecards and commentary you’ve written so far, and i just have to comment that i think you’ll have a much better time rewatching twelve’s era - it’s got its own problems, of course, but it’s such a breath of fresh air. i think m*ffat actually took some of people’s biggest criticisms of s5-7 to heart - the hamfisted sexiness is toned way down, and he did away with the whole “the doctor is the center of the universe and the most specialest guy ever” angle almost entirely. honestly, i almost have a hard time believing both eras were written by the same person.

hahaaa thank you, and idk why the below got so long, when your ask was relatively simple, blame it on the hyperfixation!

I acknowledge I tend to write m*ffat (mainly because im not trying to put stuff in tags to be a buzzkill but also as a joke about censoring him), but I do think he got... better

in the sense that he was overall less sexist and more character-driven later on and seems to have really run with a lot of what people wanted set up in terms of genderbending Timelords and queer lead characters, although I am finding s6 has some really good stuff... not.... his episodes so much lol...... but I'm liking it more than s5 which runs contrary with my assumptions/memory of his era, which is pleasantly surprising

I don't think he's egregious in the way writers like, say, Joss Whedon were, I've not heard stories of him being an asshole on set (except for that one story about him throwing a hissyfit about not getting the horse through the mirror in GitF back in s2), which may just be me missing stuff, so can let me know, BUT... nothing I know of. and while he's said some... Highly Dubious Shit About Women Especially and also asexuality, I genuinely think he's been working on some of those biases and fucking nonsense

we went from the Doctor kissing a lesbian without her consent to Bill Potts (who has some flaws -- the fat joke I've been seeing mentioned on Tumbls, the somewhat off-centre flirtation with the one-night stand she doesn't get to have that seems more like it comes from girl-on-girl porn than like a way lesbians might speak with one another)

from writing Rants about the dullness of asexuality that assumed a cis- and heteronormative perspective of the Doctor (he's a bloke of course he'd want to have sex was a lot of the Vibes of it) to in a "confused but got some of the spirit" writing about how the Doctor wouldn't understand human definitions of sexuality and monogamous relationship structures (there's a post about that somewhere in the depths of my blog @fabiansociety made some excellent points)

from describing the original first casting for Amy as "wee and dumpy" to... well, actually can we have some clarification there sir, also the shit you said about Karen Gillen basically just being cast because she was hot (I'm not saying I am super Yay Moffat after all), but at least toning down the sexy sexy talk on the show from what you say!

also maybe a smallish thing, and idk how much power he had and and and, buuut I appreciate how he went from the way he talked in GiTF about how Reinette was "worthy" of the Doctor because she was cultured and educated and whatnot... when Rose is literally the companion of the season and semi-textually Created Ten (regardless of youknow, reads of the relationship and all that, definitely important to the narrative and the Doctor), to having Rose appear as The Bad Wolf in the 50th anniversary special... haunting the naaarrative baybey

and I remember feeling like "Missy" when introduced was just a rehash of River Song rehash of Irene Adler (or whatever way around those characters existed) but then Gomez is actually amazing as The Master, to the point that she's the Number One thing I remember from that era of the show

and he's not an asshole about trans people, which, low bar perhaps, but not in this flipping country, especially not saying so out loud, which, like... Doctor Who is a big deal in this country and RTD is obviously a big ol' queer who's been yelling from the rooftops from Day One, but to not just have it be him, to have a cultural institution firmly in our corner, it's good feeling-wise, and Moffat is a part of that too

and what you're saying, which I cannot quite remember the details of but will eventually reach, the pivot from how the Doctor is portrayed in the Eleven arc vs the Twelve arc, and what the core of that story is, and the glory of Capaldi!

the limitations of this praise then come in the fact that he was learning this stuff while running two of the biggest British institutions, a version of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Who, and so the above Things that he was a dick about, alongside the mocking of fandom during Sherlock and the weird "queer but not queer" stuff with Sherlock/Watson (look, the fucking... BBC marketed it through the lens of a ship, and then there was a whole idk... campaign to make fandom seem weird and over-invested, and then of course Sherlock actually sucked as a show for so many reasons...) means that he's managed to be a prat in real time and it's meant that what should have been fun engagement in storytelling wasn't so much for many of us wincing through the shit he was saying and writing in his shows

... that time he was like "people are accusing me of being sexist, but I love strong, sexually confident women who can step on me, and having a dominatrix kink that I'm projecting onto my female characters onscreen is the opposite of sexism actually Check Mate" (that paraphrasing was mean, sorry not sorry, but also.... I could find the quote or just a handful of handy videos that have aaaaalll of the quotes... because they were happening.... in national newspapers and in interviews and panels and twitter and.... like.... not in private... there's more I'm vaguely remembering but not sure enough to just throw out there, so yeah... but he did not shut up!)

also I will never think he's a good writer so much as Very good at thinking up cool concepts that others might be able to run with or work with him on, and he should never ever be left to his own devices and encouraged to do whatever he wants (... Sherlock..... Jekyll.... from what I've heard, Inside Man....) AND I think generally and hope that RTD2 is going to be about heralding in the next gen of creators, including perhaps... a future showrunner who didn't grow up when Classic!Who was in its infancy (I don't mean that as a diss, I just mean that we've had three of those showrunners so far), and perchance isn't a cis man, because I think a lot of cool shit that could have been better might have been if moffat wasn't learning the ABC's of third wave feminism at the same time

Gosh and he's the least sexy writer I have ever come across... maybe not ever, but considering how confident he was being about allosexual alloromantic Doctor, that man is as sexy as getting slapped by a wet fish (unless you're into that, in which case insert something else here)

ALL OF THIS TO SAY... yeah, I'm excited for Twelve. and I'm enjoying Eleven more by watching the way I'm watching and being able to set criteria for worse and for better!

[thyhalloweddesign]

So I've been doing a Medical Billing/Coding course thru the AAPC, and it has been. A Mess. This is one of the worst designed and planned "textbooks" I've ever seen, taking notes is an absolute Bitch. Studying for exams is a Bitch.

They keep going back to topics and adding more info, in later paragraphs and even whole chapters later, so my notes are just so messy. Never know when they're actually done with a topic, they can't organise for shit. I know I'm already going to have to basically rewrite the damn thing so the damn topics are all together properly AND THEN. These fuckers decided it was Smart to test you on information that's located on Other websites that are Not owned by the AAPC. Which means if the page is no longer there, or the info changes, well fuck us! Then they have to update their textbook, once they realise. Do you know how many times I've read something, taken notes down, then gone back to study and the entire chapter is different??? THREE TIMES, FOUR CHAPTERS SO FAR. Fuck.

Latest biggest stressor with this damn thing, is that the CPT codes are. *takes very slow deep breath* That book is Not organised. I understand /why/, but I do Not Fucking Approve. Finding ICD-10 codes can be tricky bc they're just bitches inherently, but finding Any CPT code in that book is a goddamn adventure. And yet! I ace those exams way better than the ICD-10 exams despite the Massive amounts of stress I am feeling XDDD Absolutely rude as fuck.

BTW going thru schooling for Coding is not required to do the job, which is why everyone's medical bills are so fucked up all the time - this system is a mess, considering just how many people and groups that work together to try and make a "uniform coding system" (y'know. not talking about how we need at least 3 code systems and every payer has their own requirements/regulations, on top of the state and federal regulations). But most people who do medical coding don't go thru classes and so so so many things are done hella wrong. And going thru this course, it makes so much sense Why it's such a mess Even When You Have Certification.

I am so glad I'm going into a single specialty bc trying to do billing/coding for any and all medical services would drive me batshit. I'd be constantly contacting the providers for clarification on their lackluster documentation so I'm not getting denials and messed up payments all the damn time. (This latest chapter has been dragging on for 4 days now, I am Very Grumpy*wheeeeeze*)

[zaine-m]

Okay so I saw someone talking about how they were gonna rewatching the series to get ready for season 3 and I realized that there are 22 days until season 3 and 22 episodes. So I've decided to watch 1 episode a day and air my thoughts out on here because I can't contain all my hatred of Nini is my little body or else I would explode.

So if you hate Nini too, please come with me on this journey.

Next part

Season 1 ep 1 thoughts:

I never realized that it's Ricky and big Red who skate past Miss Jenn in the beginning

✨️✨️✨️Gina walking past the camera✨️✨️✨️

Why is Kourtney all like "you know who"? what does she have against Ricky?

Okay so Nini understood it was a pause, then why did she not actually break up with him before she started dating EJ. I swear this girls acts like she can do no wrong

Then she gets mad at him for wanting clarification on that she GOT ANOTHER BOYFRIEND when they were on a break

And then she's like well of course I got another boyfriend, you didn't tell me you loved me back and it's not like you have issues about telling people you love them that I as one of the main people you confided in should know about and it's not like I at all put you in an uncomfortable position by posting a video on Instagram where everyone can see instead of telling you in person especially since it's the first time

I'm starting to remember why I hate Nini so much. They're meant to be childhood bestfriends but she so clearly doesn't care about him at all

Nini you have to break up with your ex before you get another boyfriend

How about Kourtney you start with dismantling the sassy black friend trope

Gina watching everything unfold in the background❤️❤️❤️

Nini why don't you just keep everyone on the same page as shit goes down

Ashlyn and Seb are sitting next to each other in the gym

Why are they not having the back to school announcements in the auditorium?

I love how you can see all the recurring characters in the background before they get introduced

"Triggered as a millennial" 😮‍💨 I'm also remembering why I hate Miss Jenn

Also does Ricky not know what a millennial is, he says that Okay boomer joke later

Other than yeah the lead is fun, why does Nini want to be Gabriella so much

Mr.Mazzara is the best

Again Nini is supposed to be this super insecure, "I could never be the lead girl" but she has a friend who's only purpose is to cheer her on and a popular jock boyfriend who constantly reminds her how great she is

And then we never see the water polo boys again

She was crushed but then she also immediately got a boyfriend, and maybe the reason he wanted a break was because she never cared about his feelings. I'm sorry I just can't feel bad for you

Also Nini not seeing how lucky she is to have a friend who really only supports her and doesn't seem to want anything back

You know one day Ricky, you could be the one dating EJ Caswell

NINI IS THE MAIN PERSON HE GOES TO FOR ADVICE BUT SHE DIDN’T EVEN FUCKING CARE ABOUT HOW TELLING HIM SHE LOVED HIM OVER SOCIAL MEDIA MIGHT MAKE HIM UNCOMFORTABLE BECAUSE OF HIS HOME ISSUES. Why are we supposed to root for her

This is the thing, the only part of Nini's life that is not the best a teenager could possibly get is that she doesn't get lead roles. And we never get any reason for it. Maybe it was a her growing into her voice kinda thing

This show doesn't understand "show don't tell" we're told that she feels like she doesn't deserve to be heard but then we constantly see people supporting her and posting nice comments on her Instagram and saying how amazing she is. Just give us anything that this insecurity could come from

Also that's reading into the dream way too much, she just worried to screw up what she wants the most

The cut from Nini's happy, supportive family to Ricky’s dad just trying to do his best 🥲

Noooo someone give Ricky a hug

Wait did Nini seriously post a photo basically saying she's gonna get the lead. You can't say she's insecure then make her do that. I would get EJ doing that but if you look it's Nini's Insta

Sure Big Red, that's why you know so much about HSM. It's definitely not because you started hyperfixating on it but you refused to actually watch it because you didn't want to give into the hyperfixation and you were worried people would laugh at you for talking about it because it wasn't the stuff you normally watched so instead you slowly google the plot of it on incognito tabs until you finally give in and obsess over it for the next year

I love how Ricky impulsively decided to do the musical and now he can't be stopped

How does this school have so many computers

Also Mr. Mazzara calling all the students by their last names

Kourtney is literally doing Nini's makeup with EJ tells her how amazing she is. This girl literally has everything, why do they try to present her as the underdog

✨️✨️✨️Gina's dancing✨️✨️✨️

Also Gina's outfit, her hair, the way she looks at Carlos like "Yeah you want me as the lead"

I miss this Gina

Why are we supposed to hate her for being like "I've never been an understudy" when Nini went and posted that her and EJ are going to be the leads on Insta. Like at least Gina was stating a solid fact instead of just being overly cocky

The way that she holder her head uo and her winged eyeliner

Why does Ricky have a CD. Also I love the Ricky and Mr. Mazzara dynamic but we may never see them together again 😢

"I'm dying. I'm deceased. Yes" what the fuck did they think they were doing with this.

Also what was Ashlyns outfit. She had such a glow up between the first and 3rd season

Gina putting the WORK in

Why is she even telling them what part she wants them to play. I guess some students would want to know what they have the best shot at but it just seems like it's going to make students feel like they can't do the part they actually want to do. Is that a thing that they actually do in high school musicals? Why can't they just say the part they want to audition for

What is on the walls of this school? "Free hair cut", a sign pointing the opposite way Ricky is going saying that's where the auditorium is

Someone give Gina a hug and tell her that she's amazing no matter what

Then Nini's British accent thing was never brought up again

How did she not understand that "temporary pause" meant they aren't broken up

Aww, Ricky’s mom being away again

And she can't even fucking stick to instructions

Why the fuck is Ricky spilling his Family issues out to everyone who's auditioning to be in a musical

Big Red giving Ricky his guitar

Carlos looking at Ricky like wtf is he doing is season 1 to Carlos helping Ricky figure out he's be in season 3

Nini, you don't get to be mad at Ricky for not telling you he loved you back when you knowingly pit him in an awkward situation or for him wanting to take a pause because it would be hard to try to keep your relationship up when your away when he's probably really fucking tired of trying to keep his relationship with him mom up from away which you should know if you ever cared about him

Also "confusing things" he was sharing his side of the story. Which you would have already known if you ever payed attention when he talked to you about his issues which we know he did

I don't like her

NINI ISN'T A FUCKING UNDERDOG MISS JENN. IF ANYTHING GINA'S THE UNDERDOG, SHE'S AT A NEW SCHOOL, DOESN'T KNOW ANYONE, AND HAS A PRETTY SHITTY HOME LIFE COMPARED TO "HAS IT ALL" NINI

God I fucking hate all Time Fedrle

Gina I'm sorry baby, you deserved it. Maybe you're really made more for a dancing role but I guess HSM doesn't have many dancers

But she still congratulates Nini like a boss. I could never and that's why I look up to her like a god

"Chad, she thinks I'm a chad"

Wait was Chad not a different role you had to audition for. What was the point of her separating them if she's just going to give Chad to a Troy. (wait is there an actual reason for her doing this?)

I love how Big Red just stands there shocked like what happened?

Seb being happy about Sharpey in the background

The "shit" didn't used to be beeped did it?

Sometimes I wonder why this is my special interest if I hate the main character so much, but my brain works in mysterious ways.

[thornescratch]

Hi! I’m really curious about the ‘I want to understand you, I study your obscure language’ one for the wip thing!

Ooof. So I don't really like Sidney Crosby, for a series of reasons that we won't get into because some of them come down to petty geographical sports reasons, and some of them come down to petty fandom reasons, but I have friends who do like him and I guess also tumblr followers as well, so I try to not be... awful or obvious about it. I used to be much worse! He's slightly more tolerable for me now that the Caps have a Cup.

It's honestly, like, only 500 words from being complete. I just keep putting it off. I’m kinda-- I can deal with fictional Crosby (and to be fair, fictional Ovechkin is also easier to deal with over real Ovechkin) but I worry that my attitude towards him bleeds through the writing, so I tend to second guess myself a lot while writing him, on if I’m being fair or not.

Anyway, the fic itself is quite short, and grew out of a double drabble request someone asked of me some years back and I think the prompt was something like Crosby and Ovechkin and conversations. The title is from a line of Pushkin poetry and it’s (supposed to be, anyway) relevant to their actual conversations. And so it was two very short little pieces about them and each other's voicemails, and I always thought it was sorta missing something. So then I figured, oh, thematically, there should be a closing scene where they talk in person. But what are they talking about? And, well it just happened on its own.

But there's something different about this, in a way. And then he knows, and Jesus fucking Christ, holy fucking shit. This is going to piss off so many people. This is amazing. Alex is actually kind of unable to talk from the sheer delight of it.

But as the silence drags on, Sidney looks even more agonized, and the dull flush of red starts creeping down his neck as well. "So, yeah. I know things are sometimes weird but. Even so. I guess I could have handled some things different, like better. But I can, I mean. In the future.

"If you want," he adds when Alex still doesn't say anything.

"With me," he tacks on after that, like Alex actually needs the clarification.

"Oh my God," Alex says blankly, still marveling over the hilariousness of it all. "Sidney Crosby, you love me. Like, in love with me."

And he starts to laugh his ass off.

Sid blinks and then makes the exact same pissy expression that he does whenever he loses a faceoff, which isn't an sight Alex usually gets to see this close up—he's usually been off to the side and watching the way Nicky takes the draw, while hoping for a one timer chance—but he almost can't focus on enjoying the look on Sid's face because he's still too busy being consumed with the enormous glee of it all.

"Yeah, well," Sid says grumpily, when Alex doesn't stop laughing like a maniac. "I thought you should know."

"I knew," Alex says, still wheezing.

"I thought I should tell you, though," Sid says. "You. I just. Thought I should say it."

"Oh," Alex says, "good," and then he swallows the last of his laughter down in a hiccup, so he can crowd in close, then reach out and touch the little furrow line between Sid's eyes; it smooths out under his finger. "I'm glad you did."

"Yeah?" Sid asks, eyebrows raised, still a little stiff and defensive.

"Well, you don't say it like I think you gonna say it, but you say it Sidney way," Alex says. "That's okay, that's best way, actually."

"Oh," Sid says. He frowns. "Uh. I guess we can do the classic thing. I love you. Is that better?" He shifts his weight from foot to foot. "I could, like, go down on one knee, I guess."

"It's good too," Alex says. "Actually, yeah, I want one knee." A thought occurs to him as Sid is in the process of going to one knee. "Oh my God, you already got a ring too, yeah?"

"What?" Sid says, frozen halfway down, and then looks shifty. "No, I don't have a ring on me."

Alex stares hard at Sid, runs that through his head, considers everything he knows about him, and then he starts laughing in helpless joy again. "You do, though. I bet you already buy a ring. Maybe not here, but I bet you got ring hiding, like, in sock drawer."

Sid looks grumpy again and stands up, arms crossed over his chest. "I wouldn't store anything valuable in my sock drawer."

"You got me valuable ring?" Alex says, still hiccupping with laughter. "Ooh. I wanna see."

"I'm keeping it now," Sid says. "I'm gonna take it back to the store."

"You wanna marrrrrry me," Alex croons, and right before Sid can get really pissed off, he swallows as much of his giggling as he can and says, "Okay, yes. Wait, no, you don't ask. Ask. On knee, you gotta do it right. Come on, come on." He gestures and snaps his fingers.

"Okay yes what?" Sid asks. The pissy faceoff loss expression is giving rapid way to more of a confused I just heard a whistle blow and I can't tell if the penalty is on my team or we're about to get a powerplay expression. Hope and dread mixing together in equal parts, and expecting chaos no matter what.

"Ask me," Alex says.

"…right now?" Sid says, still looking like he's trying to recover from the conversational whiplash. "I don't have my notes."

"You don't need notes, you already know I'm gonna say yes," Alex says patiently. He would like to see the ring first, because he prefers classic yellow gold even if everyone's into platinum these days, but Sid is weird and conscientious enough to probably already have a full folder of research on Alex's taste in jewelry and there's no chance in hell he doesn't know that already. Hell, he bets Sid's proposal notes have multiple versions that were specifically calibrated for optimal weighted outcomes based on geography, time of year, day of the week, weather, which of their respective teams won their last game against each other, point standings, and whatever other insane factors Sid thought would possibly affect the answer.

[doberbutts]

Okay, sorry. I said I wasn't trying to be rude, English is not my first language and I have developmental stuff so I didn't realize there was such a huge difference between "pet" and "touch" when most people use them interchangeably. I'm sorry if I made you angry or was disrespectful. As I said I also use a service dog so I was just speaking on a specific thing I see in the wider community that no mobility aids get respect, and non-chair using handlers often talk as though they do, but I did miss the word "non chair" so I see now how it sounded like I was saying all SD users who are not me. That was not my intention, I was just trying to say that it hurts a lot when fellow disabled people are so quick to jump on wheelchair users as though we are all magically respected, in the same way as it hurts when people assume I don't need my service dog because I use a chair.

I'm gunna be completely honest here the reason I didn't respond is because I felt it was not worth my time to do so. You are never owed interaction nor an acceptance for any apology. Furthermore you're anon so there's no reputation at stake here.

Second, *you* are who put words in *my* mouth and then expected me to apologize for them. My point was clear and understandable. However claiming I'm saying things you didn't say when you clearly absolutely did say service dog [handlers] don't understand how disability works or did you forget this:

Additionally I'm gunna be honest if you have such a hard time with English that you don't know the difference between "pet" and "touch" then maybe don't send someone a weird and condescending ask critiquing their phrasing saying they don't understand how disability works. Same goes if you have developmental disabilities that make it hard for you to understand phrasing- ask for clarification rather than just telling someone they don't understand their own experiences.

Additionally other words you've put in my mouth are:

I have never said this. Also don't bring race into a discussion about something that isn't about race.

Also 🤷‍♂️ you're not my friend. My friends talk to me directly when they have a problem with something I've said. A rude and condescending and weird anon is not the action of a friend.

I didn't say grab. I said pet. Because people DO NOT pet wheelchairs like they're dogs. People do other stupid shit to wheelchairs but they don't pet them because they're inanimate fucking objects and thus are treated as such and that's all holy shit how many times do I need to repeat and rephrase this.

Also you wanna talk about the ~wider disability community~ let's talk about how people who don't use service dogs feel entitled to talk down to SD handlers like we're not actually disabled and how that lovely segment you gifted me with does nothing but further that ideal whether or not you use a SD yourself. Let's talk about how people who use living aids are often asking for people to meet the bare minimum requirement of "treat my aid as you would any other" and we have both abled people going "no :)" and other disabled people going "how dare you say we piss on the poor" at the same time. Let's talk about how you call yourself my friend but needed to be told that I have actually spent time in a wheelchair which you would have known if you'd spent any amount of time talking to me, and still felt it was appropriate to talk down to me like I didn't know what I was talking about.

No, anon, you *are* the one behaving badly.

[sunny6677]

THE AUDIO LOGS OF ANDREW HUDSON.

SUMMARY: The following are real audio tapes of tapes left by an animator at the forgotten studio Joey Drew Studios. Please ensure that you are ready to listen with these with caution, dear listener. What you may hear may cause you to never want to hear again. What you may picture may make you never want to see again. Please be aware of the consequences you may have if you do not have permission to listen to these tapes. If not permitted, then [REDACTED]. You have been warned.

(This is fiction btw, so no worries-- I know some people with anxiety issues might think this is real so this is just a clarification.)

TW FOR CHAPTER/TAPE: NONE.

TW FOR SERIES: MANIPULATION, TRANSFORMATION, UNHEALTHY MINDSET, OBSESSIONS, CULTS, CULT MENTIONS, MURDER, IMPLIED SEXUAL TRAUMA, OUTBURSTS, DRUGS.

--------------------------------

TAPE #15

THE VOICE OF SAMMY LAWRENCE & ANDREW HUDSON.

1933, DAY UNKNOWN.

------------------------------

[30 SECONDS OF COMPLETE SILENCE. SAMMY IS HEARD SIGHING, BUT HE DOES NOT SPEAK FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE TIME.]

A: "Hey, Sammy!"

S: "Agh!"

A: "Ah, sorry— didn't mean to scare ya, pal. Shit, that's a large violin ya got there! Ya playin' that song from earlier?"

S: [SIGHS] "I was trying to come up with a completely different song since Joey didn't like the one from earlier, but since you rudely interrupted me—"

A: "Joey didn't like it? Gee, he must be real tired if he didn't like that good of a song."

S: "No, he's not tired, he just didn't like the song. And now, I have to start all over again."

A: "Oh damn— that sucks, ya gonna be okay? Sounds real frustrating to have to start all over again."

S: "Yes, I'll be fine. Now if you don't mind, I am going to get back to making this song. So I would suggest getting the hell out of here."

A: "Eh? But why? I wanna hear what ya have so far, 'specially considerin' your the head musician 'ere! Go on, play what ya have so far. I'd like to hear."

S: "...why? You gain nothing from hearing it."

A: "Yeah, but I gain the awesome memory of hearing cool as fuck music from the one and only Sammy Lawrence himself. So come on, play it!"

S: "...fine. If it'll make you leave."

A: "Hell yeah!"

[SOFT VIOLIN MUSIC BEGINS TO PLAY IN THE TUNE OF THE SONG THAT IS KNOWN AS "ANGELIC MELODIES". THERE IS NO TALKING FOR HOW LONG IT LASTS(WHICH IS ABOUT A GOOD MINUTE).]

S: "This.. is all I have right now. I'm trying to find a good way to continue it so if you could please.. why— where did that violin come from?"

A: "You, uh.. had it in the corner, so.. do.. do you wanna continue the song or not?"

S: "I.. I didn't even know you could play violin."

A: "Eh, barely.. I only slightly remember the musical lessons I had when I still went to school. Anyway, do you wanna continue the song or nah?"

S: "...maybe this will get him to finally leave."

A: "Huh?"

S: "N— Nothing, i... fine, I guess you can continue the song with me if that will make you happy."

A: "Hell yeah, now, hm..."

[A VIOLIN PLAYS AGAIN, BUT IN A SLIGHTLY HIGHER PITCH THAN THE ONE BEFORE. A SECOND VIOLIN PLAYING A DEEPER MELODY JOINS IN. THIS CONTINUES, UNTIL THE MUSIC BRIEFLY STOPS.]

A: "...maybe this should be the part Susie comes in."

S: "Yeah, sure.."

[THE VIOLINS BEGIN TO PLAY DIFFERENT NOTES, BUT SLOWLY PACED. THIS CONTINUES ON FOR A GOOD 2 MINUTES, BEFORE IT STOPS.]

A: "Woo, hell yeah! Maybe you should write that shit down on your little music thingy, that sounded hella awesome!"

S: "Yeah, yeah.. why did you decide to become an animator if you could play violin?"

A: "Huh?.. Well, just cuz I'm good at something doesn't mean I should like it. I've always found myself drawn to animation more, as much as I do like music, I'd rather draw since it's easier and I can focus better. Anyway, ya wanted me to leave, right?"

S: "..yes, I suppose so."

A: "Alright, well, see ya then! Can't wait to hear Susie sing this shit!"

[FOOTSTEPS WALK AWAY FROM THE TAPE, AND THE DOOR CLOSES.]

S: "...God, what just happened?.. Oh well, at least he's finally gone. You can finally continue your work now, Sammy.. but.. the notes he played did sound good as well.. no— no, what am I thinking? This is my work, not his.. he doesn't decide what I put in the song or not."

---------------------------------

NOTES: ANDREW COULD APPARENTLY PLAY THE VIOLIN AS WELL. ANDREWS WORDS ALSO IMPLIED THAT HE USED TO GO TO A SCHOOL BEFORE HE WENT TO THE ORPHANAGE. THE RESEARCHERS ARE INVESTIGATING HIS WORDS THOROUGHLY.

[i-lost-something-in-the-hills]

The thing that's stopping me from living my life to the fullest is literally so dumb and silly and it's my bone deep fear of someone who has power over me/authority figure being mean to me. Like government workers, doctors, the ppl selling bus and train tickets etc. There's this anxious scenario in my mind that always pops up whenever i have to take the bus somewhere and it always goes something like: i miss my last bus home because i didn't check the time/the bus left early/they gave me the wrong ticket and I'm panicking and now i have to tearfully ask the scary ladies selling the tickets if there's something they could do and they brush me off coldly and scold me for being late/ just dismiss me even if it was a mistake on their end and I end up stranded alone and scared.

This is just one example but there's hundreds, like maybe i don't know how something very important works (let's say taxes or bills or just paperwork/money in general) and i again have to go around asking these people who don't have the time nor the energy to gentle parent a legal adult through something they think is common knowledge and so i get yelled at or passive aggressively insulted at worst and at best i just don't end up receiving the help i need because i was too afraid to ask for clarification on things i don't understand since i felt like questions would annoy the person I'm talking to and annoyance often leads to aggression.

Basically I'm afraid that no one in the world will show me kindness or patience when I'm in a vulnerable position, and thus i don't put myself in unpredictable situations. I can't go somewhere I've never been to on my own, i can't start a long term commitment that requires lots of paperwork because that means i actually have to go and get that paperwork from a hundred different places and have a hundred different interactions with people who might be or might not be in the mood for my bullshit, i can't call in sick for work because that means having to go to the doctors and having to ask for a slip of paper that says that i am indeed sick and i need to get that paper delivered to my place of work and then when i get better i have to go again to have them say that i am not sick anymore and i have to do it all perfectly with no fuck ups because if i don't then it gets even more cumbersome and complicated and convoluted and i just —can't. I can't deal with this.

I remember in freshman year of high school the city passed this new system of getting monthly passes for public transport, it used to a paper ticket and since i knew where to get it and how i was fine, but then they introduced cards that you press against a scanner in the bus and if you had the old paper one it just wasn't valid anymore. I remember i was so scared to get that stupid card because the papers i had to fill out became different and they changed the location of the booth. Like i was in tears almost. I just didn't know how to do it. I couldn't ask my parents because they don't really know anything about anything, and i was too scared to ask my peers because i didn't want them to view me as an incapable cry baby. And so i just. Didn't do it. I just walked to school for the remaining three years.

The first time i had to use an ATM on my own i was watching instructional videos on youtube like my life depended on it, i wrote that shit down ffs. I was so afraid that I'd make a mistake somehow or that the other people waiting there to use the ATM would know I've never used one before. It went well but i still felt so sad and somehow humiliated. I couldn't even feel proud of myself for figuring it out because i was too ashamed that something so simple made me stay up late worrying.

I just don't know why I'm like this. It might've started in middle school, i recall the other kids making jabs at me when i'd be trying to have a normal conversation, i remember insults would be levelled at me regarding my weight and the way i look directly or indirectly from time to time (in gym class mostly) so i walked on eggshells often, trying not to provoke anyone into picking on me because i knew they'd go for the lowest hanging fruit which was also my biggest insecurity (my appearance) but i wasn't actively bullied, just... excluded. I was left alone for the most part, and even that was actually partly self imposed because i genuinely just didn't share any interest with the kids in my grade. So maybe it's my mom? That's a very Freudian conclusion, but my mom is a passive aggressive woman, she wants you to read her mood and if you don't read it correctly and act accordingly she does the typical angry mom things like: wash the dishes loudly whilst mumbling to herself, going around the house and saying that everything is a mess, how she can't believe her child is so lazy and ungrateful etc. But like. Loads of people's mother's are like this, even worse actually, because despite her faults i know my mother loves me and i know people who can't say the same. And even if the above mentioned things did leave an impact, I'm genuinely baffled as to how the hell they could've left an impact that is so huge and debilitating considering that i didn't even have it so bad, i didn't have it bad at all actually when you compare my situation with that of someone who's less fortunate. And i know that comparing situations isn't the right way to go about this but like come on. Really? A few kids were mean to me here and there and my mom would be angry sometimes and now I'm this? There's people my age out there who went through unimaginable pain and suffering both physical and mental and they're out there doing shit and living on their own and handling their business.

I'm angry at myself, not for feeling hurt about the mean things kids would say in my formative years or for the shame I'd feel when my mom would catch an attitude, no, I'm angry that i never got the fuck over it. Like, why didn't i deal with it by becoming loud and boastful? Or by becoming determined to prove them all wrong? Why don't i have that fire in me to adapt and overcome? Why do i just always give up?

I'm just so genuinely tired of myself and my bullshit. I want to go to college. I want to move away. I want to become independent and strong. I want to have spontaneous experiences. I want to gain more knowledge about the world through first hand experience. I wanna face adversity and persevere. I wanna fucking live man but I'm just so chicken shit about every little thing and i live in a constant state of anxiety and checking and double checking and checking if i double checked and getting scared when plans change and getting scared that I'll have something bad happen to me or to someone that i love and I'm constantly fucking observing myself and the way I'm perceived, i think about my thoughts and why i think them constantly, I'm never fully present, i feel like I've gone too deep into myself and i don't how to get out. I just want it all to stop. I wanna be normal.

[cesium-sheep]

welp. time to listen to heel turn 2 on repeat for an hour I guess. apologies to the neighbors.

went to my appt, first it was just a little catch-up and clarification of symptoms then like "oh well I was reading some rheumatologic journals and I think your symptoms fit me/cfs better than mcas?" so I had to give a whole fucking lecture series about how me/cfs is a junk drawer diagnosis that would be an incomplete explanation and not lead us to any options and yes like an acute allergic reaction mcas can manifest with breathing and hives but just like an acute allergic reaction there are also a number of other known manifestations, also cfs without an immune component doesn't generally respond positively to benadryl. (also also rheum doesn't know shit about mcas, most of the experts are hematologists.) then they're like okay what would be helpful for you now and I was talking about how I'm not doing well but I don't have a lot of firm ideas going forward and they hit me with "I was talking with my attendings and it's clinic policy that we'll have to taper you down off your prednisone" "I know it's not what you want to hear" "I'm so sorry" blah blah fucking blah, long and short of it is I need to leave the clinic or lose my meds. those are my options.

I was clear with them that I understand this isn't their choice and I understand where the policy comes from but it's a dumb fucking policy and they should like. go into shit like this with open eyes in future. they said they learned a lot from me and they want me to let them know when I find a new clinic, or if I can't they will start tapering my dose until I do, so I don't just go into adrenal crisis but they're still compliant.

then I went and had a meltdown at arin for like an entire hour because I have been past my limits for 14 months. I've been running on overrides and the iron core will. and I legit straight up cannot take any more. I told her, unambiguously, if my qol gets stuck back in single digit percentages with no clear avenue for improvement, I am going to kill myself, because there is no point in a life like that. and I very very very rarely actually say to anyone when things are that dire, because they all just freak out and a lot of loved ones have trauma surrounding suicide attempts and shit. but it's just fucking fact. I cannot take any more. I'll keep slogging anyway because I don't have a choice but we have hit the hard limit where even my iron will is spent. at least last time we hit that limit there was an actual way out. (missouri)

she says she'll play phone call roulette for me. that's all anyone can really do. (unless one of you has a pliable or god forbid actually useful doc licensed in wa and willing to take uhc.)

you found my breaking point / congratulations.

spent too much of my life now trying to play fair

throw my better self overboard / shoot at him when he comes up for air

come unhinged / get revenge

I don't want to die in here.

I don't want to die in here.

[violaobanion]

Hello, Succession Anon again with my last message til I can watch more in the who-knows-when future! Ah, the family cycle of abuse pit. A trope I shall never tire of watching!

LMAO yeah, not everyone has had a chance to be terrible yet, so currently I have some characters I only feel sorry for. I imagine that will change very easily (except for the dog I saw for like 5 seconds in this ep; BEST PUPPER, 100/10, NO DRAMA FOR THEM).

Anyway, here is my liveblog! May you enjoy my ridiculous amount of rambling, and also a light scattering of screaming. And a silly amount of em-dashes to separate scenes.

———

Kendall: [lights a cig, has one puff, then stomps it out to drama walk into a building] Arresting him for littering and for being wasteful. Jail for 50 years!

(After everything else I watched in the first ep, though, this is so far down on the 'people saying/doing bad stuff' things that it'd be a footnote on Santa's naughty list.)

———

Kendall: Does anyone want to talk to their dad?

My headcanon here is that Logan sneezed and instantly went 'Hmm, sounds like I need to call one of the little shits'.

———

Logan: [says he's excited full of an emotion that expresses he'd rather watch paint dry]

I'm beginning to see why these kids have daddy issues.

———

RIP Greg in the mascot dogsuit. It must not have been pretty or smelled good in there.

Also, I completely spaced out from what Greg was saying the moment I saw a dog. PUPPY!

———

Roman: 'Hey hey, motherfuckers!' Refuses to elaborate ANYTHING except mockery. Leaves.

I don't know whether to like him or not, but I would steal his last french fry.

———

I have no idea how to comment on Logan not only knowing about his 'surprise' party but also trying to have a say in it.

Like, relatable on the part of not wanting people in my face because anxiety. But it isn't abt anxiety for Logan, it's abt control, right? Sir, a surprise party is meant to have surprises!

———

WHAT THE FUCK IS A PREEKEND?! Why can't they say Friday; Shiv, I'm with you on this.

———

Kendall casually saying he'd give a bj without knowing his dad is in the room OH GOSH THAT POOR MAN it'd be like my fam finding my smut list. I'd jump out the window instantly.

———

Tom/Connor: casually tells a kid that he's got water pumping rights and people are gonna kill each other for said water some day

SIR, WHAT THE ACTUAL F

I can't believe 'hey motherfuckers' Roman was the sane man there, but THANK FUCK HE SHUT TOM/CONNOR UP. Well, tried to.

(Edit for Clarification: Roman called Connor 'Tom' for some reason, so I got confused and just put Tom/Connor here. RIP Connor.)

———

Shiv: What's that; Date R*pe by Calvin Klein? Roman: You wish. Shiv: …'You wish'???

SHIV, WTF. 2. ROMAN, DOUBLE WTF. 3. FORGET WHAT I SAID; JAIL FOR ROMAN FOR 100 YEARS.

———

RIP Greg, gets slammed into a door the moment he meets Logan.

Currently feeling the most sorry for Greg here; if he gets pushed out of a window at any point, I'm not even gonna be surprised.

'Yeah, that's Greg, bad shit happens to him a lot. You get used to it.'

———

Logan: Where's Tom? Shiv: He's right here. Logan: Oh, well, nevermind.

Logan, you can't just murder a man like that.

———

Kendall's ex(?): I'm just hoping [her date] doesn't leave coke smeared all over the kids' iPads.

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!

Oh, that was a dig at Kendall. Uh, I'm sad for everyone now, wow.

———

Logan: In the event of my demise (hi s4), I'm adding Marcia and leaving her my seat.

WELP. THAT'S A BOMBSHELL.

Shiv: Uh, I'm gonna need my lawyers to look at this. Logan: Sure. By 4:00, ok? Logan: Also, I discussed this with Kendall, but I'm staying in power as CEO. Kendall: Wh-what? Logan: Let's eat!

I see where Roman got his 'go in, throw shit at the wall, then leave' tendencies from.

'Fuck this shit I'm out' started playing in my head as Connor left too.

———

The longer Logan is on screen, the more I start… losing emotions. He just called rehab 'the nuthouse', and is generally insulting his son.

Logan: Is that why you're paying a billion dollars for a gay little website? Kendall: It's a portfolio of online brands and digital video content.

So Logan is Succession's Elon Musk, and Kendall is his son buying Instagram.

Now Logan's egging Kendall into punching him/mocking him for nearly crying, and poor Kendall is having a breakdown in the bathroom. Good lord, I want to hug him.

———

The past few moments they've mentioned a game, drove off in SUVs, and now there are helicopters. I have no idea what is going on.

OH, IT'S A BASEBALL FIELD. Now I know what's going on. There are so many shots of Tom holding a box, and I think that's the gift he's been trying to give to Logan. I feel sorry for the dude, and I get the feeling that's gonna sum up the show: me feeling sorry for characters.

Yep, it was a gift. Logan doesn't care. Continuing to feel sorry for Tom.

———

Tom: You need any help, any advice, just don't fucking bother, ok? Just kidding! [later] I'm a terrible, terrible prick. Just kidding!

Greg: [confused and clearly has no idea wtf is going on]

Don't worry, bro, me too.

Tom: Would you kiss me?

SIR, ARE YOU TRYING TO SPEEDRUN ANY% STRANGERS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS?!

———

Ooh, did Kendall just go straight to the media about his family? 👀👀

———

Roman: Can you hit a ball? Kid: Yeah… Roman: Great, I will give you $1mil if you hit a home run.

WELL, THAT'S NOT GONNA PUT PRESSURE ON THE KID! But dang that is a lot of money, good on you, Roman.

———

Roman: [tears up the check right in the kids face, then gives him the torn pieces]

Roman, every time I say something nice about you, you fuck it up. I'm getting a spray bottle full of water, just for you.

EVEN LOGAN WAS NICE TO THE KID! You know you fucked up when Logan was (temporarily) nicer than you.

———

Kendall: I'm gonna stuff your mouth with so much money you're gonna shit gold figurines.

So Midas kink?

Kendall: [goes into graphic detail abt gold cages and silver d*ldos]

WHEN I SAID KINK I DIDN'T MEAN I WANTED A WHOLE ASS SUMMARY ABOUT YOUR FANTASIES, KENDALL

———

…I don't even know what to say about Logan making the kid and his family sign an NDA. Like, at least maybe the kid is getting money after all, but W O W.

I should probably get multiple water spray bottles.

———

Logan: Do we have a deal? His kids: No Logan: [instantly collapses from insubordination]

WELP. EVERYTHING WENT STRAIGHT TO HELL IN A HANDBASKET, AND THIS IS ONLY S1 E1.

———

Everyone else: [chaos, drama, and depression] Frank: [resting on a chair after getting fired]

Be free, Frank. Get away from this! …OH, THE KID AND HIS FAMILY GOT TOM'S GIFT FOR LOGAN! Like, kinda happy for the kid/family 'cause they could sell that or whatever, but rip Tom. Logan loves hurting his family more than your Brand watch.

———

That's everything from my liveblog of ep 1! Sorry for only one ep liveblog, but hopefully it was an amusing read. This is gossipy hen/Succession Anon, signing off! salutes

Hi my dear anon!

Haha I love to see your liveblogging, this was a very amusing read indeed. You're observations are pretty spot on and hilarious, and it made almost nostalgic thinking about the time when I watched the shitshow (affectionately) for the first time 😌

A few comments:

Tom and/or Greg: There's a fine line between feeling sorry for and being annoyed by these two fellas. I think you're gonna cross it many times (and hopefully soon). Still love them both btw. But god. UGH!

*sigh* What would this show be without daddy issues, amarite or amarite? 😏

I would steal Roman's last french fry too 🤣

Fun fact: Roman's "you wish" at Shiv's perfume comment was unscripted, and so Shiv's reaction is actually Sarah's reaction. For a split second she falls out of character and looks at the crew. But when you don't know, it just looks like Shiv fucking baffled. I love that for her and I love Kieran's improv. It's not the last time he does that (but sadly not all his attempts make it. One of them was even too good???)

"SIR,WHAT THE ACTUAL F" is one the most accurate descriptions of Connor I've ever heard. That man is so out of touch. Send help.

Logan is the male equivalent of a Karen 🙂🔪

Frank is love, Frank is life. That man? *chef's kiss* right there

I remember last time I rewatched this (right before s4) thinking "LOGAN COULD'VE DIED IN THE FIRST EPISODE??" and then thinking what dream scenario that would have been. But oh well!

[ruinestagehouse]

After having settled down from earlier events today, I'm honestly just annoyed.

I'm going to just end off my posts with clarification addendums from this point forward and the next twat that wants to pick a hissy fit over an imagined slight can either read the intent of the post clearly spelled out or sod off. Ryan is still losing his mind over today, and I feel horrid for him.

I often speak in a manner that ascribes the experiences of one system member to all of us, as that trauma in some way, shape, or form tends to transfer. Physical trauma responses still occur even if one of us doesn't actively have the memory that causes it. Those triggers still hurt. However, I'm going to be clear about something.

I cannot do anything to change the fact that I have native heritage, but I don't want to associate with it further. When my mother is around, I play her damned game of pretending it doesn't exist because this woman is the most racist shit I know. I have never been allowed to study it, identify with it, or embrace it. I don't usually have to talk about it because it hardly ever comes up.

Ryan is different, however, and Ryan in part wrote that post with me that a lot of you may have seen earlier today. Ryan, in youth, did get to experience it. He did get to connect with his father over it. Then it was ripped away. It is part of the trauma he feels about being disconnected from his father. Ryan has, and always has, swallowed down the fact that he got to see what could of been before it was ripped away from him, and he is far less inclined to play pretend than I am.

He did get mad. He did get absolutely furious about being spoken to like some moronic white person with no idea what the struggles of his real culture looked like. To be called racist over typing out a word, not in a derogatory manner but to bluntly say "I am not treating you this way, despite you accusing me of such, it is not the case and I don't take kindly to this when it has nothing to do with the actual conversation" a word with meanings bloody outside the usage of a slur that are so far ingrained into him that he didn't even register it as one at first, that hurt him more than I can describe. It hurt him because his scream of "I'm like you, they took that piece of me away though, and it hurts, but please do not help them in doing it" was ignored and he was dismissed as "some white guy tearing himself a new asshole to make a native person look like the bad guy."

Our family, and the body, is native. I do not identify with that because I never got to experience that culture. I, Rue, the person typing this. I am an alter that came about after that portion of our lives, and so I personally do not identify with it. I will never again identify with it. I wouldn't belong even if I spent the rest of my life trying, thanks for showing me that, you absolute twat.

Ryan, was different. He did identity with who he is but he'd always done so quietly. Being mislabeled so someone can win an argument did not sit well with him, and it showed. It showed even further when the person doubled down on calling him some white racist.

I really hope that winning against some enemy on the internet that never existed was worth it. Ryan buying into that whores game because he feels like all he is is some white trash heep that had part of him cut out is something I never wanted to see.

I hope shooting your own blood in the foot was worth it.

[I am angry at this one individual for the damage they did to Ryan through that interaction, not at his brethren as a whole. Ryan and I were cofronting upon writing those replies, and we were cofronting when I made my initial vent post. Overall, I am upset. Ryan throwing away what little connection he had to his heritage because he feels like he will never belong because of what they did to him is bloody fucking sickening. All of this because of a misread of a post supporting someone, and reacting with anger to the way that person was being treated. What fucking scum.]

I actually need to add an addendum as it was pointed out to me that the person later went on to claim that our response was us trying to claim native ancestry to get out of being called out.

You all know that I don't have my race, or images of myself except for a single one very far down my timeline on here, right? Even then, that single image is of my body in pajamas. It is not a valid way to flatly determine my race. You can tell I'm pale, and that's it. Would anyone like to explain to me where this individual gets off making an assumption on someone and then calling their attempts to correct him "whitey trying to claim native ancestry?"

You are actually a disgrace.

[starsuh]

do re mi | myg

featuring. min yoongi x reader | 3.2k

summary. while teaching you how to play piano, min yoongi realizes that his dumbass might have feelings for you after all.

genre. fluff | f2l | roommate!au | mutual pining

warnings. a quarter-life crisis and a soft make-out scene at the end

Amongst Min Yoongi's many talents, his sixth sense of knowing when something was bothering you was the one that most oft caught you off guard. Whether it was the intensity in which you slammed a door shut, or the way in which you didn't choose to annoy the fuck out him like you did every other day of the week; he would notice each time. It was only clockwork that he tentatively wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you had collapsed against the couch with perceptible chagrin.

"What's up?" he asked, a simple question that often entailed a more than complicated answer. Peering down at your tightened features, he awkwardly patted your shoulder as if to make known that silence would be just as valid of a reply.

You ran your hands through your face. "I don't know,” you said. If you did, you would've told him, just as you told him everything. Though the pair of you had began as merely two people who happened to be roommates because there were no other affordable options, spending months watching Netflix with another person tends to lead to friendship — even best-friendship, though neither of you had established such a title. It was the kind of friendship that needn't clarification, rather it was just another unequivocal fact amongst many.

After kicking off your shoes (Yoongi would scold you for that in a less emotionally-turbulent time), you pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them in a ball-like manner. "It's really fucking lame but I’m just realizing some things,” he nodded, prompting you to continue. "I'm scared of the future, I think. I mean, everyone is, but when our prof was talking about internships and shit earlier I kind of freaked out then decided that hiding in the bathroom was the best option.”

In his gaze was a reassurance so intent that you had to look away lest you become ensnared in it. He oft had that effect, increasingly so throughout the past few weeks. "What about it?"

Your eyes fluttered closed as you took a deep breath. “I think I know what I want to do, but then I see other people, people like you, who are so passionate about their place on Earth that to not do that thing would be a fate worse than death. Like, I love the path that I’m on but there’s always a voice that’s telling me I’m gonna fuck something up and regret everything.” You played with the loose threads of your top, pulling at the offending stitching. You laughed. “This is so stupid. I guess I’m just realizing that I might not be cut out for it.”

His sudden silence filled the room so heavily that you began to wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything at all. Gears turned behind the messy black mop atop his head that hung over his eyes; a face similar to the one he makes when contemplating a new track he had produced, seeking for each of its flaws and corresponding solutions.

It was so sudden when he reached down to grab your hand that you almost jumped. An inch away from falling onto his chest with the sudden upwards tug, you steeled yourself. "I'll show you something," he said to which you replied with a questioning stare. "It'll just be a sec, c'mon."

You allowed him to drag you to his bedroom, though not without glaring at the back of his head and whining. "Your room smells like Cheetos and day-old boxers."

He rolled his eyes. "I cleaned it this morning, so shut up."

He pushed the door closed with his hip, never once letting go of your hand until he unceremoniously shoved you towards the left end of the keyboard bench. You wiped the accumulated hand sweat against the rough fabric of your jeans, both thankful yet forlorn that he had let go. His was a comfort rarely given and you craved his affection the way one did with a cat that ignored those around it.

He reached down to plug the extension into the socket. "Can I play you something?"

You blinked, unsure if the nervous tone laced in the question was figment or reality. “What?”

He gave you a blank stare though it didn’t distract you from the way his hands fidgeted in his lap. “I said, can I play you something? Something I wrote?”

Impatient, he didn’t give you a second glance or a moment to reply before his hands flew across the board, pulling melodies out of the nooks and crannies of its black and white keys. Through every note, he told you of emotion, of love, of heartbreak and melancholy. You don't think you had ever understood what music was until then. It was more than his expertise, though he was quite the expert; it was the way his eyes closed at certain shrills and the way his shoulders hunched at others, the way he slammed harder into the keys and at other parts softer. He played like a poet. A writer. And you refused to be someone who didn't appreciate it for what it was: a story told to you.

The slight smirk gracing his soft features told you that he found amusing the way your mouth gaped open in shock. You’d only ever heard the distant echoes of his sound from behind closed doors as you walked past.

Yoongi had never played for you before, was even shocked that he was able to now, knowing that your mere presence in close proximity provided quite the distraction.

When he stopped, the air almost rang in its silence, as if you had forgotten what the world sounded like without his music in it. The hush blanket laid across the room felt bare and vulnerable. You understood now more than ever why he locked himself within the confines of his space in all hours of the day. If you could live in his symphonies, you would.

"Wow.” Because what else could be said? "That was... Yoongi, you're amazing."

His smirk remained, though as more of a mask to hide softer feelings behind. "Must've been if you're complimenting me for once.”

"Because you already have a ginormous ego."

He began playing once more. This time, a slow and deceptively simple melody. The chords were arrows tightly strung that flew through the air in wisps of smoke. To you, its warmth was paralleled to the feeling of his own beside you, his arm occasionally brushing yours as he reached to play a few lower keys.

"I think you're taking it too seriously," he said. "The future, I mean."

Your brows furrowed. "I kind of have to, dude."

He rolled his eyes but kept playing, occasionally glancing at you as he did so. "What I mean is," he pressed softly against the keys in the left end of the piano, their tenor notes filling your ears. "You need to calm down. Like this," the already soft melody slowed. "You know what you want, don't you? Why are you hesitating?"

You stilled, the feeling of being both caught and scolded grounding you in time. Your eyes focused on his hands to avoid the feeling of his analyzing gaze on the side of your face. “There are things I want to accomplish but there’s also things I want to have,” you groaned in exasperation. “I don’t know if I should choose the former or the latter but they’re so entangled that I can’t even tell which is which anymore.”

"Some things are only difficult if you think they're difficult." He looked down at the keys. "Like playing the piano, everyone knows that learning it is hard but something like this-" he played three chords in succession. "-sounds simple, right?" He continued to play those same chords until they blended together in a single melodious breeze. "But when I was a kid, learning piano was the bane of my twelve year old existence. I hated it so much because my impatient ass wanted to be good without trying. So, in true dumbass fashion, I quit taking lessons after two weeks."

You tilted your head towards him. “How did you learn then?"

“Well, I realized I was being a huge pussy and went back." Shaking his head before the glaze of the memory could wash over, he nodded towards you. Grabbing your hand, he placed them over the keys. “Can I teach you a chord?”

Your heart spiked in one fell swoop. “What? And embarrass myself in front of the music god himself?"

He laughed and it lit up his eyes brighter than the screen of his laptop that he had forgotten to shut off, still on the League of Legends home screen. “I told you, it's only hard if you think it is."

Too flustered to argue, you could only watch as he directed your fingers towards the correct keys until three were stretched towards their respective positions. C Major. You wondered if he could hear the rapid pace of your heart through the vibrations on your skin from where his larger hand rested atop your own. You could only pray to any god who would listen that he didn’t.

Among the numerous feelings that bubbled beneath your chest, the sudden pinch of ice that struck your nerves as he lifted his palm away from yours was one that you were the most unsure of. Filing that thought away for later, you focused on the most important task at hand: avoiding looking like an idiot in front of Min Yoongi.

Before you could retreat, your hands pressed down.

A sudden burst of sound filled the silence that you hadn't realized had grown so deafening. Your eyes widened as if you hadn't expected the chord to occur despite Yoongi's administrations, like trying to guess a passcode and getting it correct in a miraculous feat of luck. The now fading sound was not like anything you were expecting, though you knew even monkeys could do what you had just done. It was an actual piece of the puzzle that was music rather than the CD case or paper bag that had come with it.

Likened to an excited pup, you looked towards him for praise or assurance that you had done it right only to catch his already grinning countenance at your widened eyes.

For the next half hour he taught you two other basic chords, never failing to correct you in such a patient manner that your heart rose and fell with each glance and soft appraisal.

"But sometimes," he grinned. "Sometimes you need to stop thinking."

Your brows furrowed, though you didn’t need more than a few seconds to understand his cryptic wording before you yelped, almost flying off your seat at the abrupt disruption of the peace.

He began smashing his hands against the piano, creating the worst orchestra your ears had ever had the pleasure to hear. Overcoming the shock, both of yours laughs bubbled out, drowned by the keyboard speakers. Without a second thought, you joined, key smashing against the lower end. Together, you created an ear-grating masterpiece of cacophonous noise and piercing melody, yet it was still one of the most beautiful things you’d ever heard.

Yoongi began cheering your name like the greatest hypeman in existence as you gave the most effortful performance of your life, hands pressing against the first keys you saw to the last. You didn't know what you were doing but it didn't matter, not when he was smiling with his gums on full display as you went with your gut for the first time in years. Yoongi, the boy whose hands crafted magic, whose words changed you, whose music moved you. Yoongi, who looked at you and saw past your forced pretensions and society-enforced perceptions.

You laughed until your lungs ached for air, having not even realized that your whole body leant against his as you tried to catch your breath.

"Oh my god, I think my ears are broken," you covered them, finally dragging your hands away from the keys.

His grin widened. “You're a quick learner."

“Is this the part where I say that it's because you're a good teacher?"

“Only if you're polite, which we know you aren't." He hadn't stopped smiling and you had never felt prouder of any accomplishment in your entire life. “Was I able to distract you?"

You laughed, bringing your hands back to your lap to fiddle with them. He's seen you wear the same ramen-stained hoodie three days in a row with hair just as ratty yet you had never more felt exposed. “I’d say yes but I think I’ve exceeded my Yoongi compliment limit for the day."

"And here I was thinking that that compliment limit was zero."

"Hey," you playfully knocked against his shoulder. "I always say your breakfast is good."

He knocked against you back, his eyes turnt to half-moons. "That's because you want to brainwash me into cooking for you everyday with half-assed compliments."

"Or maybe," you lightly leaned against his hoodie-covered shoulder. "It's because I like eating breakfast with you."

He paused, and a grin that could only be described as shy graced his features. He tapped against the keyboard but didn't press hard enough to allow a sound to be let out.

"I trust you," he said in the silence. "That you can follow your heart. Even if that sounds corny as fuck, I really believe it."

You smiled, something you've been doing more and more often with him around. "I'll try," you said, watching as he contemplated his next words with a bite of his bottom lip. Giving him time, you glanced back at the piano. "Is it really that simple?" You pressed on a key.

He finally looked up. "I think so," he played the key beside the one you had just pressed, the side of it touching yours. "Even if it doesn't sound right to other people, who's to say that random key smashing isn't music? When you think you're supposed to play a certain way, that's when you hesitate. Even when you fuck up a piece," he pressed another key. "Regretting it doesn't stop the echo."

He began to play another soft melody, leaving you just as entranced as you were the first time he did.

“I’m a hypocrite, though,” he closed his eyes, lightly scoffing. “Giving you advice that I can’t even take.”

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Why?”

“Because...” He took a deep breath, hands leaving the keyboard as he fully turned to you. “I like you," he said it like it were a fact you should've already known. “I... I like you. A lot. I can't remember when you stopped being my annoying roommate who'd hog the fridge space and became the annoying roommate who I couldn't stop writing songs about. Before I could even realize and stop myself, today’s me kept looking forward to tomorrow’s you. I’d be a hypocrite to tell you to stop hesitating about the things in your life while I spent every second of every day wondering whether I should tell you my feelings and ruin our friendship.”

For if there was anything Yoongi knew more than most was that love was fucking stupid. It caused people to be irrational, selfless, and weak-hearted, yet why did he want to forget the stupidity that came with it whenever you walked into the kitchen for breakfast, hair messy and shirt tousled?

Love was fucking stupid. But maybe he could be an idiot if it meant that you'd be stupid for him too.

“I know you don't feel the same way but I just needed to tell-" you kissed him before he could finish what was sure to be a sentence so ridiculous that even the most astute of linguists would be left baffled. He was Min Yoongi. The boy who spent all day locked in his room making music and playing games with his friends. The roommate who'd wake up early just to cook you breakfast. The friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. The man who you'd found yourself falling for with every gummy smile. Yoongi. It had always been Yoongi.

And he was kissing you back.

His lips were as warm as the hands that carefully wrapped around your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. He kissed the way he played, soft and thoughtful.

Pulling away, he whispered your name slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Never before had your name ever felt so wonderful a one. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours in disbelief. The hand around your waist tightened as if in fear that at any moment you might say that you hadn't meant to give him what had to be the best moment of his life -- that you had actually accidentally fallen on him and he had simply been mistaken.

"You're an idiot," you laughed. "I've liked you since the first time you've cooked me breakfast if the heart eyes I gave you each time weren't already a dead giveaway."

He shuffled in his seat. "You have low standards then," he said. "Or are in desperate search for a house-husband."

You smiled, your nose brushing against his. "Maybe, a bit of both."

He leaned away from you, eyes lit up in a euphoria that didn't hinder from his nervous cadence. "Actually, that song I played for you? Earlier?” You’d never seen him blush before. “I, maybe, composed it thinking of you.”

"A personal chef, jester, and composer? I think I'm winning."

His nose crinkled. "You know you can still back out, right?"

"You're acting as if I'd even want to."

"Stupid songs like that... I suck at love yet I still want to give you everything," he whispered, voice hoarse. "But my everything will still only amount to that."

"If that's your everything,” your hands interlocked with his. “Then your everything is more than enough."

"I like you," he murmured the confession between your lips as if it were clandestine, the urge to say it a million times more bubbling up from his chest. Though stronger than his urge to say it was his urge to hear you say it back.

Your lips met his completely. Perfectly. "I like you, too."

Pulling away once more you couldn't help but laugh at the reddened color of his cheeks and ears. Cutting away at the awkward and still unsure tension, he inched backwards with a startlingly loud clap of his hands. "Now that that's settled, can we go back to making out? This corny shit is so awkward."

"I can't believe I like you," you groaned but kissed him back anyway.

While there was nothing in your life that you could be sure of, you knew that the man whose smile could light up the entire city of Seoul would be there for you for every step, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[sandalwoodhusbands]

Hey, it's the request anon again :) I would love to read some fluffy elu, maybe them finally getting a cute dog and Eliott being incredibly happy about how much his life changed for the better since he met Lucas? And maybe a smut oneshot too? Like, Eliott wanting Lucas to take the lead, for him to be in control or something? Sorry in advance, I know this is a lot but I just love your writing so so much! (You don't have to do them of course) 🤍🤍🤍

hello there! first off, thank you so much for the requests! i had a lot of fun writing the first one, and in perfect timing for eliott’s birthday. i gave it a little spin that i hope you’ll like anyway.

i’ll come back to the sexy one in a couple of days, but in the meantime please enjoy <3

-

(also in ao3)

“I think Lucas is getting me a stripper for my birthday.”

The words make Idriss shoot his head up from his book so fast Eliott is concerned he might have pulled a muscle.

“You think Lucas is what?” Idriss asks in a high voice, eyes full of bewilderment. “What?!”

“I think,” Eliott repeats calmly “that Lucas is getting me a stripper for my birthday.”

Idriss blinks at him.

Eliott shrugs innocently from the couch, uncrossing and crossing his legs under him as Idriss gapes stupidly at him.

“What the fuck,” Idriss says at last “do you mean that Lucas, your best friend, is getting you a fucking stripper for your birthday?”

Eliott straightens his back, smiling at Idriss like he’s finally asking the questions he should be asking.

“I’m glad you asked that.” He says in glee, clasping his hands together. “Well, one, Lucas isn’t half as sneaky as he thinks he is.”

“That’s not even a valid argument.”

Eliott throws Idriss a disapproving glare. “That’s not the point, Idriss. Two,” he lists off with his fingers “he’s been asking really weird questions lately. Like the other day, he asked if my landlord cared about loud noises. And what’s that code for? A party.”

“Eliott, I don’t think-“

“And then,” Eliott interrupts. “Just last night he told me I should make some space in the living room for my surprise.” He makes air quotes, looking at Idriss expectantly.

Idriss only stares back.

“The fuck do you mean surprise?”

Eliott wets his lips. “A dancing pole, obviously.”

Idriss’ mouths falls open, and then-

“Your brain works in ways I will never understand, bro.”

Eliott smiles smugly, leaning back on the couch. With a lazy raise of his eyebrows, he nods at Idriss solemnly. “I’m gonna be right, you’ll see.”

Idriss hums non-committedly.

“Pity he’s not the ass you’re seeing naked though, right?”

Eliott throws the tv remote at his head.

“Shut the fuck up.”

***

It’s a week after his conversation with Idriss that he sees Lucas’ lit up face as he talks to the girl behind the counter, and knows he can’t keep it in anymore.

He tries. He really tries to keep it in, for everyone’s sake, mostly because he doesn’t actually ruin Lucas’ surprise. A little because they’re in public, and he knows Lucas might try to knock him out with a bowling ball if he embarrasses him.

In the end he blurts it out.

“Are you getting me a stripper for my birthday?” He asks, and immediately winces when he sees Lucas’ expression.

Lucas’ entire body falters, hands raised up below his knees where he was tying the laces of his shoes. He’s looking at Eliott half with surprise and half like he wants to kill him, and then he’s pressing his lips together, closing his eyes with exasperation.

Eliott gives him a sheepish smile, shrugging a little.

“Eliott Demaury, you’re a fucking idiot.” He says, but then he’s smiling a little, the corners of his lips curled up prettily.

Eliott takes one step closer to him. Lucas rolls his eyes, hugging his middle in the way he does when he’s laughing really hard, raising an eyebrow at Eliott.

“So is that a no?”

Lucas huffs, but the grin in his face betrays him.

“Yes, that’s a no, you moron. Why would you even think I would get you a stripper?” He asks, throwing his hands up. He talks with his whole body, with his mouth and the sway of his hips as he walks towards an empty lane. Eliott watches entranced his every move, and he must have been silent for too long, he thinks, because then Lucas stops walking. He turns to him with a dubious expression. “Wait, do you want one?”

And.

Well.

“I suppose not.” Eliott shrugs. Because he doesn’t, not really. Now that the thrill of figuring his best friend out has ran its course, he definitely doesn’t find the idea appealing. He’s almost happy he got it wrong this time. But as Lucas keeps studying him silently, eyes squinted as if he’s trying to read Eliott’s mind, Eliott only laughs, shaking his head. “No, I definitely don’t need to see naked people shaking their ass in my face.”

The red fluorescent lights shine on Lucas’ hair, coloring some of the strands in a pale bronze, and his eyes are bright. He’s beautiful, Eliott’s golden boy.

He smiles, watching the way Lucas’ wary expression turns into mirth.

“Ah, okay.” Lucas nods. “Guess I’ll return my sparkly gold thong then.”

And then he’s walking away.

Eliott jogs after him, unexpected laughter bubbling up his chest that lasts all the way to him.

They’re not the only ones here tonight, but they’re definitely the loudest, he thinks, when he catches up to Lucas, his hands tugging at him by the shoulders, and Lucas’ laugher is the only sound he hears.

“Wait,” Eliott says. There’s laughter in his voice, and he hasn’t said anything funny yet, but Lucas is laughing too. “Wait, wait. If it’s your ass we’re talking about…”

Lucas groans, batting Eliott’s hands away half-heartedly. “Oh my god, shut up.”

Eliott lets him go reluctantly. If this was a Tony Stampley song, he’d say something tacky and corny that Lucas would hate and make him punch Eliott in the shoulder, something like I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.

They’re not, but Lucas’ ass still looks good in those black jeans, so he settles for the best next thing.

“When are you gonna let me have a feel at your perky butt, Lallemant?” He calls out.

Lucas turns around then, tilting his head to the side.

There’s a sudden rush traveling up Eliott’s veins when he watches the unimpressed expression in Lucas’ face; exasperation, fondness and something bright that only Lucas’ eyes have, all mixed in one as he stares at Eliott. If Eliott could, he would have Lucas, and only Lucas stare at him like this until the day he dies.

Lucas opens his mouth, and before he can say anything, Eliott knows it’s gonna sting.

“When you grow the balls to ask me out properly, Demaury.” He says with bite.

Despite himself, Eliott laughs.

He walked himself right into that one.

***

So the thing is.

The thing is, and Eliott knows that Lucas absolutely hates when there is a ‘thing’, so he’s never told him with quite these words, but the thing is that he’s in love with Lucas, and he thinks Lucas might, at least, like him a little bit in return – or at least he’s pretty sure that’s what’s happening here.

One can only brush their hands together so many times until it starts meaning something.

So he’s in love with Lucas. Lucas, who is the best person that has ever happened to him, the only person he trusts with all there is to see him; the only person, asides from his parents, who’s seen him at his worst, and then at his fucking worst.

He’s in love with Lucas, because how the fuck could he not? And Lucas might be too, and the thing is that he’s scared shitless.

“So,” Lucas starts when they get in the car. “For our next non-date you might want to bring a pair of spare underwear.”

Eliott would’ve laughed any other day. He thinks that’s why Lucas does it, because they know each other, and he actually likes Lucas’ stupid out of context innuendos. Because they’re best friends, and that’s how much they know each other.

When you asks me out properly, Lucas had said. As if this was a transitory state, and he was expecting Eliott to take the next, logical step.

Because Lucas likes logic.

Lucas likes science, and he likes waiting until the ice-cream is melting to eat it. He likes blueberry juice and pineapple on pizza, but he picks it out of the slices and eats them at the end instead of ordering a dessert like any other normal person. His hair smells like coconut, and he still holds Eliott’s pinkie when they’re passing a dark street on the way home from the club.

Eliott knows all this because they’re best friends. But he also knows that Lucas gets goosebumps when Eliott lets his hands travel up his back, and how his eyes go crossed when they’re standing too close at a party, and Eliott has to tip his head down to whisper in his ear – and then it’s not platonic anymore, or at least it doesn’t feel like it is.

So Eliott? He’s confused as fuck.

So instead of answering, he lets his fears run wild.

“Doesn’t it scare you?” He asks, hands gripping the steering-wheel.

He doesn’t have to turn to look at Lucas to know he’s frowning.

“What does?”

Eliott heaves a sigh. “This,” He says, and then as a clarification, “Us.”

Lucas makes a sound at the back of his throat that sounds a lot like an objection.

“Is it because of the shit I said back inside? Because Eliott, you know I was kidding. I’m fine with taking this, whatever this entails, slow.”

Every bone in Eliott’s body lights up with frustration. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it? They’re taking it slow, and as long as Eliott doesn’t overthink it they’re fine. But then when he does think about it; when his brain whirls, and whirls, and whirls, and eventually halts to a stop, the momentum rips him away or pull him closer to Lucas.

“No, or.” Eliott curses under his breath, knots in his tongue that he doesn’t know how to undo. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for years.”

Lucas huffs. “Yeah, and I’ve wanted to kiss you for as many years.”

Eliott shoots Lucas an amused glance. “Way to take it slow, Lu.” He watches from the corner as Lucas’ cheeks fill with pink warmth, and he cuts him off before Lucas can start apologizing. “Maybe you have, but the difference is that you actually haven’t.”

“I guess?”

Lucas sounds as confused as Eliott feels.

This is the closest they’ve gotten to discussing their new dynamic since it started. It fills the car with a weird tension that Eliott isn’t used to feeling around Lucas, and this. This is what he’s talking about.

Of things changing, maybe for the worse.

He risks looking at Lucas at a red light. His insides churn at the sight of him, of his blue eyes clouded over and the slight pout on his mouth, forrowed eyebrows that Eliott wants to smooth out with his thumb, or maybe his lips. He’s pressed all the way against the door, his hands fiddling with the threads at the rip on his knee, and he won’t look at Eliott.

The sight hurts him as much as it leaves him completely breathless.

“I’m just scared,” his eyes go back to the road, but he reaches with a tentative towards Lucas’ seat. “That we might throw everything – this friendship, us, away if we take the leap.”

After a moment, he feels a thumb pressing down on his open palm.

“It scares me too, but what’s the other option?” Lucas asks in a small voice. “Finding someone else? Because, at least for me, that would destroy me more than trying and realizing we don’t work as lovers.”

Fuck, the thought of Lucas being with someone else-

He closes his hand around Lucas’ thumb.

“So it’s scary,” Lucas starts, “but we could be scared together, don’t you think?”

Could they?

The answer is yes, he thinks. They could. They could do anything, Lucas and him. They were fifteen and seventeen, and their knees were scrapped and there was blood running down his knee, and Lucas had looked at the fence they had jumped before looking at Eliott, and he’d said, “you and I, we could conquer the world.”

So that’s not the question Lucas should be asking, maybe. Less of a ‘could we?’ and more of a ‘are you up for the ride?’.

So in the end, he settles for less than what Lucas deserves.

“Maybe.”

They spend the rest of the ride in silence. There’s a soft murmur coming from the radio, a station that only plays rock songs, because they’re Lucas’ favorite, and he’s never been his own priority when it comes to happiness, but Lucas has. So he listens, for Lucas, turning his grip on Lucas’ hand until their fingers are loosely intertwined, because he might not be ready to give him himself, but he’d give him the universe if he tried.

At the end, they part with a joke.

“So there’s really no strippers tomorrow?” Eliott asks, just to be annoying, and because he knows it’ll make Lucas smile.

It does.

Lucas huffs, but there’s a hidden smile in the corner of his mouth when he looks down to unfasten his seatbelt, and the last rays of sunlight reflect on his eyes when they dance over towards Eliott’s face.

“No Eliott, there’s no strippers.”

His hand leaves Eliott’s hold, so Eliott holds onto the hem of his shirt before he’s out of the car.

Lucas gives him a funny look, confused little smile in his face that makes the butterflies in Eliott’s stomach go into haywire.

“What’s up?”

“I just.” Eliott shrugs. Lucas eyes him suspiciously, and he laughs. “I hope I’ll still get to see someone naked anyway, that’s all.”

Lucas snorts. “I’m getting out of the car now, thank you.”

Eliott beams. “See you tomorrow, Lu.”

I’m sorry I’m such a coward, he doesn’t say.

Lucas might have understood anyway, because his eyes are the color of the summer sea, and his hand is warm on Eliott’s shoulder when he leans in to press a small kiss to his cheek before leaving the car.

“See you tomorrow.”

Eliott smells summer breeze and strawberry chapstick all the way home.

***

When Lucas goes over to Eliott’s apartment the next afternoon, Eliott lets himself get pulled by his t-shirt towards the door.

“We’re late, c’mon you ass!” Lucas says loudly. “Up, up, up!”

Eliott trails right behind him. There’s still a hand gripping the front of his t-shirt, so he curls his fingers around the wrist and keeps it there, smiling at the back of Lucas’ head as Lucas goes on and on about how ungrateful he is, and I can’t believe I got here and you were in your fucking pajamas, Eliott, everyone is waiting at the park already!

That makes Eliott pause.

“Wait. We’re not throwing the party here?”

Lucas looks over his shoulder, an expression on his face so familiar that Eliott instantly knows he’s mentally plotting all the ways he can smack him against a pole and make it look an accident. He’s in love with a psychopath gremlin.

Speaking of poles though-

“No?” Lucas asks, effectively cutting Eliott’s thoughts off. “Do you honestly think we can fit all of our friends here?”

Lucas has a point. In his defense, out of all the holes Idriss meticulously blew in his plot, he never mentioned a space problem. So he’s not the only idiot here.

Maybe Lucas is just smarter than everyone else.

“I just thought – nevermind.” He shakes his head, putting his shoes on at the entrance before standing up. Taking Lucas’ hand in his, he smiles when Lucas squeezes them. “Lead the way.”

Lucas stops him. “Hey,” he says, turning his body towards Eliott, and with his free hand he wraps it around Eliott’s neck. “Happy birthday, Eli.”

Eliott sneaks his arm around Lucas’ middle, pulling him closer. “Thank you.” He says into Lucas’ hair. “You’re the best.”

He feels warm lips on his neck, a tug at their joined hands, and his heart swells with love.

When they get to the park Idriss takes a good look at their joint hands, and then he’s walking away, hands on his stomach as he wheezes all the way towards the snacks table. Eliott fucking hates him.

“So you really had Lucas all figured out, huh?” Idriss asks a while later.

The sun is setting already, and they’re two of the few people that are still around besides Emma, Yann and Imane. Eliott looks around, searching for Lucas’ frame, smiling when he finds him folding plastic tables.

For a fleeting moment Lucas looks back and waves, beaming happily.

Eliott beams back.

“I swear I’m usually better at reading him than this.” He says.

“Hmm.”

They leave not long after. Packing everything up in the backseat of Yann’s old van, they leave the park as they found it.

Eliott insists on lingering for a little while longers, arms full of hugs and mouth full of gratefulness, because sometimes he still can’t believe he drew the long straw in life. He doesn’t really get it, he’s certainly done enough things to elicit exactly the opposite of love, but when he finds Lucas  looming by a near tree, a small proud smile on his face – as if he’s proud that Eliott was born 22 years ago.                    

It’s something that Eliott doesn’t get, but as he smiles back at Lucas over Imane’s shoulder, he thinks he doesn’t need to.

On the way back home, Eliott drags Lucas to the nearest McDonald’s, and Lucas laughs like he knows something that Eliott doesn’t. He gets large fries and a milkshake, because although Lucas is a little shit that is still smiling at him teasingly, he knows it’s Lucas’ favorite.

Lucas’ breath smells like chocolate when he leans in to drop a thankful kiss to Eliott’s cheek, and Eliott thinks that he’ll take all the teasing in the world if it’ll always earn him whipped cream lips-shaped pints.

“Okay.” Lucas walks backwards towards Eliott’s apartment door. “Close your eyes now.”

Eliott watches, a lot confused and a lot amused as Lucas hits the door with his back. He places the empty cup on the stair railing, that Lucas had so charismatically put in his hand when he’d finished it, before fishing his keys out of his back pocket.

He jiggles them in Lucas’ direction. “Maybe you might need this if you wanna get in?”

“Oops,” Lucas grimaces. In one swift movement he steals them from Eliott’s hold, and then he’s back at the door. “Okay, now close your eyes.”

“Why?”

Lucas looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Because your surprise is in there.”

“Really?” He says, and he takes one a step closer to Lucas.

He tries to suppress his laughter at the look of utter confusion in Lucas’ face as he pulls on the loops of his jeans, making Lucas stumble slightly towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just checking that you’re not wearing that gold underwear.” Eliott says teasingly, pulling harder at the loops and making Lucas yelp. “I’m still not entirely convinced tonight won’t end up in some stripping.”

Lucas honks out a startled laughter, loud and obnoxious in a way it should be unattractive, but it only makes Eliott’s inside melt.

“Fuck, you’re annoying.” Lucas groans, pushing him away. He takes Eliott’s hands and puts them over Eliott’s eyes. “Now behave, and close your eyes. Don’t peek.”

“I won’t.”

He stays true to his words. He doesn’t peek when he hears the keys jiggle, or when Lucas unlocks the door. His heart thrums with excitement, but he doesn’t peak when he hears footsteps walking away from him. He does bounce on the heel of his shoes, smile threatening to split his face in half as he waits for Lucas to give him the green light.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” He hears from inside the apartment.

Eliott does.

His hands fall limply at his sides. There’s a gasp trapped inside his chest, dampness in his eyes when his gaze falls on the fluffly little thing nestled in Lucas’ arms.

“Oh my god.” He says. He stays pinned in place, his knees trembling under him, but still, he finds enough strength to take two long strides inside the apartment before closing the door. “You did not, oh my god Lu.”

Lucas smiles softly at him, before looking back down at his arms. “I did. Come say hi.”

Eliott walks closer towards him, until he’s fitting his hands over Lucas’ hold.

“Oh fuck.” He whimpers. With one careful hand he brushes down the puppy’s back, eyes springing with a new wave of tears when he feels the soft puffs of black hair between his fingers. “Oh my god, hello little thing.”

He watches, completely captivated, the rise and fall of its little chest. He brushes his fingers between the ears, slowly, and the puppy lifts its head up, blinking up at him.

“You’re so fucking cute. How are you so cute?” Eliott whispers “He’s just like-“

“Yeah.” Lucas interrupts him. “I remember when you told me that, you know? One of the first nights I stayed over at your house. You thought I was gonna run the other way when you told me about your bipolar, I could see it in your eyes.” He confesses. He joins Eliott on the floor, sitting in front of him, brushing his hand up and down the dog’s fur. “And then you told me about the one that got away. I was really sad for you that night.”

“Lucas…“

“So I promised myself that, when the time came, and I could afford adult things like food, I’d do this for you. I read that dogs are really good company, too, you know?”

Something inside Eliott shifts.

“Lucas.” He says with urgency. His heart beats hard against his ribcage, mouth dry, and he thinks that if he had to Lucas and go, he’d be fine with it. “Lucas, I really wanna be scared with you, I think.”

Because he gets it now. It never was a matter of who would ruin it between them first. It was about happiness, and when it comes to that, Eliott knows Lucas has been the object to his happy dreams since the day they met. And if he can make Lucas as happy as Lucas makes him, he’d give everything and anything to keep it that way. For as long as he can, until he can’t anymore.

Lucas looks at him hesitantly, eyes fitting between Eliott and the distance between them.

“You think?”

“No.” Eliott shakes his head. His knees bump against Lucas’ thighs when he crawls towards him, and Lucas’ face is hot under his palms when he cups his cheeks. “I know.”

Lucas breathes, chin tilted up. “Yeah, okay.” He whispers, hands gripping the back of Eliott’s shirt.

The world ceases to nothing when their lips touch. The sky might have fallen and the oceans turned blood, and Eliott wouldn’t know anything past the brush of his mouth against Lucas’. At first it’s tentative, lips against lips touching softly, Lucas’ hands spread open on the small of Eliott’s back.

His heartbeat stops then, just to beat with more intent when Lucas’ tongue swipes down on his lower lip. He parts his lips, letting Lucas’ tongue play with his inside his mouth. Their lips slide together, Lucas rolling Eliott’s bottom lip between his teeth in a way that makes Eliott’s toes curl.

Eliott sighs inside Lucas’ mouth, drawing circles on his cheeks with his thumbs. He feels Lucas melting against his body, and he smiles involuntarily. Lucas’ own mouth starts curling up in a smile, and then they’re just clinking their teeth together that, despite everything, still counts as the best kiss Eliott’s ever had.

“Wow.” Lucas whispers when they pull away to catch their breath.

“Yeah.” Eliott agrees. Foreheads pressed together, he brushes the back of his hand down Lucas’ cheek, and Lucas nuzzles into his touch. “Wow.”

There’s no words that can describe the lines the butterflies are drawing inside his belly. His body feels like cotton, putty under Lucas’ stare, and there’s so much happiness inside of him that he wouldn’t be surprised if it started slipping from under his fingertips.

To make sure it doesn’t go to waste, he presses the pads of his fingers into Lucas’ skin, and he only sighs, stealing another kiss from the corner of Lucas’ mouth.

Lucas kisses back, once, twice, running his hands up Eliott’s back and tangling his fingers in his hair, pressing kisses to Eliott’s face.

“I am very happy with this upgrade.” Lucas whispers between kisses. “Very fucking happy.”

Eliott laughs deliriously. “Fuck, me too.” He agrees, nipping at Lucas’ bottom lip. “Me too.”

He’s deepening the kiss when he feels something nudging his leg.

Pulling back, he finds his little black furball bumping its head against his knee impatiently. Lucas laughs at the noise of distress coming from Eliott, but his chuckles die down when Eliott picks the puppy up carefully, kissing its pink nose as an apology.

“You just wanted kisses, didn’t you?” Eliott asks in a baby voice, nuzzling their noises together. “Yes you did. Hello, you’re very cute.”

Lucas suddenly groans, falling back on the floor. “Fuck, I didn’t realize how adorable this would be.” He whines, throwing his arm across his face. “I’m not gonna survive.”

Eliott takes his gaze away from the squirmy puppy in his arms to flash Lucas a happy smile.

“This is the best birthday present ever.” He nudges Lucas’ foot with his own. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t notice Lucas inching closer to him, too busy running his hand down the puppy’s nose. His hand covers its face, making the puppy chase his fingers with a jerk of its head, wiggling its tongue excitedly when Eliott moves his hand closer.

There’s an arm wrapping around his back, and Eliott blinks, head turning to the side to find Lucas curling against him.

“What are you gonna call him?” Lucas asks. His eyes are soft, soft, soft, and he’s cupping the dog’s head with his hand as he smiles up at Eliott.

Eliott takes a good look at him. He’s small, black all around, and when Eliott stops his motions down his back the puppy blinks up at him with confused little sea eyes. His heart fills with love.

“Lucas.”

Lucas squeaks. “No fucking way you’re naming your dog after me, mister.”

Eliott grins, scratching between the puppy’s ears. “No?”

“God, no.” Lucas huffs, shaking his head decidedly. “Imagine when we have s-“ he stops himself, face flushed red when he stammers out a rushed “I mean-”, and Eliott laughs loudly.

He laughs loudly as Lucas hides his red cheeks in the crook of his shoulder, keeps laughing when he feels a weak punch on his shoulder, and when Lucas complains in a whine to please just stop laughing, oh my god.

“You’re really eager, aren’t you?” Eliott asks teasingly, moving his hand to cup the back of Lucas’ neck. He plays with the short hairs he finds there, smiling to himself when he feels Lucas’ smile pressed to his skin.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No, but I agree. I wouldn’t want this little guy to scratch the door down whenever I scream your name.” He says, and Lucas breath hitches. He decides not to comment on it. “What about Blue?”

Lucas unburies his face from Eliott’s neck. “Blue?”

“Yeah, look at his eyes. They remind me of yours.” He says, bringing the puppy closer to their faces.

In cue, the puppy stares at them with deep blue eyes. And then he yips.

“So Blue then?” Lucas asks with a grin. Happiness looks good on him, so overwhelmingly good that when he turns to check on Eliott, Eliott can’t help but a sneak a kiss to his jaw before nodding. Lucas cups his hand, where it’s holding the puppy’s head, and curls his fingers around it. “Welcome to the family, baby.”

There’s a second where they’re both quiet, and then Eliott breaks the silence.

“Does that mean I can call you daddy now?”

Lucas takes Blue from Eliott, sneering. “Fucking shut up, or I swear to God I’m taking this dog with me and you’ll never again hear from either of us.”

Some things never change, Eliott thinks, and the thought brings him peace.

Lucas has light in his eyes when they look at each other, and his nose scrunches up the closer Eliott gets.

“I’m sure I could persuade you.” He says, wiggling his fingers in Lucas’ face.

“Eliott- no.” Lucas warns. His warning falls on deaf ears, because one second later Eliott’s fingers are dancing all around his body, tickling under his chin and digging into his sides. “No, no, stop!” Lucas shrieks between bursts of laugher. Blue yips happily at his side, licking sloppy stripes on Lucas’ cheek that only make him laugh harder. “Blue, help me!”

“Go Blue! Knock him out!” Eliott cheers, and their happiness echoes through the four walls of his living room. “Good boy!”

Blue’s tail wiggles against the wooden floor loudly, as loud as Lucas’ shrieks of laughter, and when Eliott looks down, he knows. This is his family now.

Lucas had asked him just yesterday, if they could be scared together. As he looks down at the boy squirming under his hands, laughing so freely, it’s hard to remember what he was supposed to be scared of in the first place.

***

He wakes up to something tickling his forehead.

“You can’t sleep on my face, okay baby?” Cracking one eye open, he finds himself face first with a mop of messy brown hair. A naked neck followed by a naked shower, Lucas’ warm skin under his arm where it’s curled around his waist, and a wiggling tail between their heads. “I know it’s scary to be all the way down there on your own, which is why I let you up here last night, but no sleeping on my face, okay?”

Blue only yips happily, and Eliott tries to snort. What comes out is more of a snuffle that he presses against Lucas’ back. Lucas tucks Blue under his chin before grabbing Eliott’s arm, bringing it up to eye level, and drops a kiss to the back of his hand.

“Go back to sleep, my love.” He says.

And Eliott smiles.

He sleeps.