#race x albert

[orangesand-lemons-234]

Albert, who literally sleeps on top of Racetrack.

Not beside him, not opposite him, he is sprawled and stretched out on top of him like a cat.

Race doesn't mind, though. It's a better source of heat than the blankets they have, and he does like that it means he gets more hugs and cuddles sometimes.

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

love your writing! could you do some more for ralbert?

Aaaa thank you!!! I’m so sorry that this took so long, school has been beating me up lately, lol. Enjoy this little bit of rambling!

There’s a crack in the mirror in Albert and Race’s home.

Neither are quite sure how it got there- perhaps a box was dropped onto it during moving and hit the glass a bit too hard, perhaps one of them had bumped into it and just didn’t remember- but it’s been there for as long as the two of them can tell you. It was there when they signed the lease on the house, it was there when they came home one day with a shining bundle of joy in their arms, after years of waiting, and it’ll be there when the time comes to put the mirror away.

When you stand in front of it, your view of your reflection is distorted a bit where the glass has chipped. Right above your heart lies a star-shaped crack, your skin seeming fragile and broken underneath it. Both Albert and Race have looked into this mirror hundreds of times, a quick glance on the way out to run an errand or for several minutes as they laughed at the faces their kids made in it.

Their youngest barely comes up to the crack, a little puncture mark poked into his face when he passes by. He laughs when he sees it, brushing his hand just close enough to feel the groove where the mirror’s broken, smiling at his reflection.

Race has to blink tears from his eyes when he sees this, his beautiful child so happy with what he saw in that glass. Albert isn’t so lucky- he’s always been sentimental anyways. It had taken a long time for the two of them to find that, for their own reflections to not punch a hole through their heart.

Their children won’t ever have to suffer through those long years of waiting before freedom, trapped in the hopeless purgatory of no support before they finally get the courage to stand up. That mirror will never haunt them. Their names will not be a source of pain. They’ll never be afraid to be who they were- both Race and Albert had promised that long before they’d first adopted.

For now, that mirror will distort their children’s faces, hear their giggles as they stick out their tongues at the warped image. As they grow, they’ll fall into the same routine, ignoring that old crack in the glass as they fix their jacket or comb through their hair, the slight bend in light unnoticeable now. Their hearts will break, just like the glass, and be mended together again with some sort of miracle. When they leave their childhood home, that mirror will watch, still the same as ever yet having bore witness to the molding of two human beings, just as it had done before. They’ll come home for holidays and birthdays, funerals and reunions, their fingerprints left on the mirror and wiped off again, like when they were little.

Sooner rather than later, it’ll become no longer useful, and it will sit in a basement or old antique shop, slowly staining and losing its light. It will heave its final, weak breath, the memories made lost to time and decay, to all except those who lived it- those who still dream of the time spent in that house, with that mirror.

That glass may one day be broken, but those men and their family? They never will be.

[emmedoesntdomath]

race, facedown on the table: I’m so stupid 

albert, laughing at him: yes, yes you are-

spot, from across the room: no 

race:

albert:

race, sitting up and clearing his throat: you know, I suddenly feel better. the world is such a beautiful place. I’m doing great, actually. 

[mostlybroadway]

racetrack higgins’s first love was robin hood.

a child of ten couldn’t help but be enamored by the hooded vigilante, stealing from the rich to give to the less fortunate. race himself was one of the less fortunate: his mother had died while having him and his father wanted little to do with him. like robin hood, race decided to make a life for himself with his friends. he just needed friends.

and then came racetrack higgins’s second love: spot conlon

she and race did everything together. when race happened upon the brooklyn newsies on a regular trip to the sheepshead, he was instantly enamored. finally, newsboys—news girls—who were just like him. or how he used to be.

spot and race were partners in crime. they sold together, ate together, and lived together in the small brooklyn boarding house. as they reached eleven, twelve, thirteen, they started to do more. they saw others kissing and wanted to try for themselves. their hugs lingered a little longer, their hands brushing against each other suddenly meant a little more. race had found his maid marian. and spot thought she had found hers, too.

racetrack higgins’s third love was jack kelly.

race had seen jack around. he made his way through lower manhattan now and again, seeing how the boys sold compared to the brooklyn girls. they needed some pointers, surely, but they were good company. they always wanted to play games with race if he asked them to. race wanted to spend the most time with jack, though. the newly appointed leader, the cowboy. race was happy with spot, and kissing spot, and loving spot, but his love of jack kelly was something entirely new.

race caught himself looking at jack’s chest and wishing his own vest and shirt sat flat against his breasts. race looked at how jack carried himself—so tall, so manly—and race wanted it too. race needed it.

when race told spot he was leaving to join the lower manhattan boys, she was not happy. she swore at him, she threw a few good shoves at him, but he remained strong. he still loved her. he figured he probably would always love her. but she loved someone that no longer existed.

racetrack higgins’s fourth love, albert dasilva, took him entirely by surprise.

albert welcomed race in immediately, just as spot had all those years before. but something about albert was different. while spot was loud and domineering, albert let race take charge. albert listened. albert was soft, and caring, and had that red hair that could make anyone fall at his feet.

albert dasilva helped racetrack higgins accept who he was. he helped him bind correctly. he made sure the other boys respected race’s privacy while changing. and he loved race no matter who he was.

and that made all the difference.

[thewritersofdeceased]

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 ;; 3 hours(7:11 to 11:00) ;

𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 ;; hurt/angst + comfort/fluff

𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 ;; albert dasilva ; racetrack higgins

𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 ;; n/a ;

extra ;; little bit of angst, french!albert, italian!race

song lyrics ;; stay awake - mary poppins

[ci]memories of the refuge flashed in the mind of a boy. antonio higgins, better yet known as racetrack to some of the other boys in the lodgehouse, was stirred awake. sitting up rather quickly, looking around back and forth, the boy covered his mouth when waking up. he didn’t want to wake anyone else up. no. he couldn’t. let alone waking up any of the other boys, like jack. though the only one he’d really wish albert desilva. that was his best friend. The one who had begged jack to do anything in his power to get his best friend out of that terrible place.

[ci]but everyone could see that albert had a deep feeling for race. Everyone knew. If you asked romeo, he’d say it was like the ginger was in love with the blonde loudmouthed boy. But everytime one of the boys, for example, romeo himself or even if specs or henry asked the ginger haired boy, the only answer they ever got was a quick witted sentence.

[bci]”i’s ain’ in love with race! i’s just care about ‘im alot.”

[ci]back to the moment at hand.

[ci]race took shaky breaths in and out at a fast pace, looking around the room full of sleeping boys. he had to get out of here. pushing the covers he wore off and just slipping on the boots he seemed to always wear, race began to sneak out. he couldn’t go to the rooftop. jack was up there alongside crutchie. so, where did race go? He went to the only place where he thought he couldn’t be bothered. sneaking about the lodgehouse and into the colder streets of new york city, race sat himself down on one of the steps just outside. just outside for a breath of fresh air.

[ci]he wasn’t in the refuge, he tried to tell himself. was he? he prayed not. the thoughts began to run wild in his head. his blue eyes were wide as his breathing went even for a couple seconds, then shaky right after. in his eyes, they had tears. tears the color of silver and pale blue fell down his cheeks. race wasn’t one to cry. no, this boy always had an upgoing personality. either he was a firecracker, loud, annoying, everything of the sort, or he was tired. tired because of the sirens that blared throughout the night.

[ci]it had felt strange with none of the sirens being heard while in the refuge. though when they were, of course he’d stay awake all night. someone had to stay awake and make sure those kids were okay. but when he was released, race wasn’t the same energetic boy. when race had returned, it was a whole different thing. race wasn’t off trying to steal cigars, he wasn’t as loud as he had been before. the refuge messed with his head. it messed with him physically and mentally.

[ci]now as race thought and thought, even as the tears fell, footsteps had made his head snap up almost instantly, looking around and back towards the inside of the lodge house. the voice that caught his attention was one who sounded like they just woke up. the voice was grogly, tired sounding.

[ci]”race?”

[ci]the voice spoke, only then did race realize who’s voice it was. albert. The voice caught race’s attention as the boy quickly lowered his head. but the way his shoulders were slumped and his body was trembling. the sight made albert’s heart clench as he slowly went to sit beside the other. he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, not placing his hands on race at all during it all.

[ci]”’ey. ‘Ey��� you’s okay, race..”

[ci]the voice was soft. soft and comforting. race tried his best to listen to it. it took a couple seconds for albert to speak again, but his soft and comforting voice never faltered. “can i’s come closer? i won’t touch ya. not unless you’s need physical touch.” albert attempted to explain, all his attention being on the shaken up blonde right in front of him.

[ci]race remained quiet, his shoulders continuing to rise and fall as he slowly seemed to have nodded, making a small smile form on the redhead's face as he slowly and cautiously moved over to race. He was asking permission for these things, not wanting to bring back any terrible memories of the refuge to his best friend. to the boy he’d do anything for.

[ci]albert was the first one race actually told his name to. at first, nobody had known race’s true name was antonio. everyone only knew him as racetrack. racetrack or race. “ant, am i allowed to hold ya?” he then would ask, seeing how race would process the question in his head before earning a nod of response.

[ci]albert, at this response, would wrap his arms around race and pull him into his lap. he wished he could help. he let out a soft sigh, carefully beginning to run his hand through race’s hair, whilst the other held him close. race was hiding his face in the ginger’s shoulder and crook of his neck. they just sat there in pure silence for a little bit.

[ci]but after a while, the soft voice of albert, who seemed to be singing, rang through race’s ears. his sniffling had stopped, his tears no longer falling.

[ci]”Rester éveillé,” (stay awake)

[ci]”ne repose pas ta tête..”(don’t rest your head)

[ci]”Ne t'allonge pas…”(Don’t lie down)

[ci]”sur ton lit..”(upon your bed)

[ci]the boy was singing in french. race had heard albert speaking french before, mainly when albert thought nobody was listening. but race had. hell, when he was in the refuge, the blonde curled boy would speak italian, beyond terrified of everything there. speaking his native language, at least the language he had learnt from his mother before being abandoned and put in an orphanage at a young age. that was something race was proud to remember. his mother.

[ci]at the moment, albert was almost like that figure he needed. not a parental figure, but someone who cared. as race closed his eyes, albert continued to sing the soft tune, his eyes closed as his arms were wrapped around race in a loving embrace.

[ci]”Pendant que la lune dérive dans le ciel..”(While the moon drifts in the skies)

[ci]”Reste éveillé, ne ferme pas les yeux..”(Stay awake, don't close your eyes..)

[ci]”Même si le monde dort profondément..”(Though the world is fast asleep…)

[ci]”Bien que ton oreiller soit doux et profond..”(Though your pillow soft and deep)

[ci]as albert continued with the soft melody, he had noticed the soft breathing of the boy in his lap. race had fallen asleep, it appeared. the ginger had no issue with that. so long as race was asleep, albert wouldn’t move a single muscle. slowly, his own eyes closed, his song slowly coming to an end…

[ci]”Vous n'avez pas sommeil comme vous en avez l'air…”(You're not sleepy as you seem…)

[ci]”Reste éveillé, ne hoche pas la tête et ne rêve pas....”(Stay awake, don't nod and dream…)

[ci]”Reste éveillé, ne hoche pas la tête et ne rêve pas....”(Stay awake, don't nod and dream…)

[ci]and so, as the song came to an end, the stars above twinkled with that lovely shine. of course, race and albert got teased by the other boys as morning came, but what mattered is they had each other. even through thick and thin.

[newsiesficchallenges]

Day Four of Legs of Lamb

Day Four! Now- the most serious debate of the week-

[daveys-sister]

Race: Davey lectures me for, like, half an hour, just because I came home late!

Albert: You deserved it. Getting everyone’s hopes up like that then showing up again. 

[the-racer]

spot 🤝 albert = calling their strangely tall boyfriends sweetheart in both a mean and nice way

[military-newsboys]

Jack: I heard an interesting rumor today… Race: Only one? I started like twelve.

[saintescuderia]

welcome to the mini series of the random, mindless thoughts had by a poet disguised in an orange jumpsuit watching cars speed by all weekend. enjoy!

--- note: 5am starts, 7pm finishes. all four days. gotta love formula 1!

thursday: media day!

i want the ferrari jacket

there are school kids here?

i don’t want the ferrari jacket

$7 for a small can of red bull is THEFT

especially since they broke the cost cap

me walking through the “accredited personnel” gate and tapping my special lanyard is a CORE memory

i think my uber driver dropped me off on the opposite side of the track

*stressing about being unable to admire the sights of albert park bc i’m stress-running from the opposite end of the track to my station*

pls don’t be a dick and say i’m late - i know

how is a 5am wake up not early enough HOW?

“last year i was stationed at the corner where charles spun out.”

sole thought = 💀💀💀💀

i. fucking. love. cars.

the whole SENSORY experience of a race ffffffffffffuuuuuck

“be careful taking pictures because that security camera is on us and is straight to race control and the FIA.” is such a cool sentence to hear

a porsche gtr should not be covered with branding idc

i’m definitely going to abuse caffeine this weekend

friday: FP1 / FP2

the sun is rising over the lake as i walk on the albert park track and i’m happy to be alive

especially as i found a toilet that isn’t a port-a-loo

ah, a cafe that does good decent coffee thank GOD

am i going to pay $10 for a croissant?

i'm going to pay $10 for a croissant.

i lived in paris but this one fresh lune choc croissant has topped it all

no like there will never be another croissant experience to beat me eating a fresh pain au chocolat on a f1 circuit as the sun rises over the water with the melbourne skyline in the background

aramco engineers are walking behind me as i shit talk about f1, nice

“it is an increasingly unique experience peeing in a port-a-loo beside a formula one track as cars race by.”

120’000 is a LOT of people

how has the float not broken yet?

metro boomin has released an album as i stand before live formula one. life has PEAKED

fernando alonso is the first F1 driver i ever saw live

there is a shift in formula one as the heritage fans of motor racing are on the out as the next generation of fans absorbed in driver hype and social media takes over and we see this in how F1 has created the new US tracks and made them all into spectacles and fans are here because of it being “cool” instead of caring about cars

… maybe i should buy the redbull jacket instead?

bonus: sole thought during the pitlane walk for the marshals

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

saturday: FP3 / qualifying

the relief of thinking you’re late and then seeing someone you know HA

commentators are now contractually obligated to bring up saudi arabia every time they talk about ollie bearman

jesus they’re as bad as the f1 girlies

i have to watch the grand prix replay after all of this i have no idea what’s actually going on

CHARLES GOES FASTER THAN MAX HA

kimi spinning out has me actively wanting to cry

a safety car FROM THE PIT EXIT

welcome to F2 everyone 👏👏👏

not me lying to the cute irish guy hitting on me about @saintescuderia

a big fat ha at the eshays holding their puffer jackets - even they can’t stand the heat

don’t flex on me that you’re here at F1 when you don’t even know what’s going on yourself bruhhhh

to the red bull fan telling me i’m “dramatic” for rolling under the fence (it’s how marshals have to do it) pls get help

$7 for a calispo is a JOKE

recording F1 quali isn’t even worth it bc they're TOO FAST

JOKES I GOT A PHOTO WITH ALBONO

i’m very lucky for my team of marshals :))))))))))

i’m only going to eat half my muffin

*finishes the whole thing*

sunday: race!

KIMI ANTONELLI!

do i ask for a photo?

*every photo of charles leclerc being abused flashes through my mind*

nah leave him be

five minutes later: i regret not asking him

the group of aussies dressed as lance stroll drunk at 9am have my heart and my respect

i need a coffee

seeing kimi walk right by me has now made so much invested for f2

i really need a coffee

yep they screwed kimi with all those safety cars

i really, really need a coffee

we get to go ON TRACK? for the DRIVERS PARADE

*starts practicing “get well soon” in spanish*

my heart is BEATING

lol jokes carlos didn’t even look at us

*checks footage to see that i accidentally just recorded guanyu zhou next to carlos the whole time :))))*

lol are they putting lewis and charles together all the time?

every marshal: “that was the shittest parade ever.”

i need a drink

pls don’t talk to me for the next two hours

don't meet your heroes kids

but also why the fuck did they do the float in one big car? and do INTERVIEWS? this is legit the one time the drivers can be there JUST for the FANS

F1 can PISS OFF

race start = okay it's happening

waitwaitwaitwaitWAITDIDIJUSTSEECARLOSOVERTAKEMAX?!

nevermind i love him

"race control has asked that you calm down, marshals are supposed to be neutral."

lol at the entirety of albert cheering that max is slowly coming to a DNF

mclaren swapping oscar for lando is DISGUSTING fuck zak brown

somehow, i've forgotten that charles is just there

SEND IT CARLOS VAmos

(this is all because i told you que te mejores pronto!)

daniel ricciardo....man..... aus gp can't market you like this.......

damn yuki got HANDS

ferrari and mclaren having the top 4 places is just *chefs kiss*

lewis just had to stall just pass my sector like i hope ur okay but couldn't u not be ok in front of me?

red bull deserves this after all the FLACK i've copped from red bulls fans ("dramatic" MY ASS)

wait george russell ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

singapore all over again. i can already see the memes.

somehow marshalling a gp has you closer and more removed from the whole thing i have no idea what's going on

(literally the only time i used my F1TV live timing)

finishing after the safety car means i can't stick my head out and clap for carlos FUCK OFF

wait, he came up right UP TO MY SIDE OF THE TRACK TO WAVE

... do you think he noticed me?

[bwaybby09]

During a Tornado Warning:

Les: What do we do if the tornado hits us?

Spot: Uh, what do we do if the tornado hit us? I'm not sure, maybe get blown away by it?!

Race: No, no, you hide under a doorway.

Katherine: No, no, no. That's an earthquake.

Davey: Actually, they say you're not supposed to do that anymore.

Albert: Who cares what they say not to do for something that's not happening.

Jack: They say that you should go towards the eye of the storm.

Spot: Where’s the eye of the storm, Jack?

Jack: I don’t know…

Spot: That’s what I thought.

Crutchie: Tell someone you trust.

Jack: No Crutchie, that's only if the tornado's molesting you.

*bonus*

Race: Okay, this is just a drill! Everyone grab a clutch buddy!

(Race grabs onto Spot)

Spot: Oh, get off me! No!

Race: Hold on to me!

Spot: Get off me!

Race: I am saving your life!

Spot: I don’t wanna be saved by you!

[orangesand-lemons-234]

newsies twitter but it's the ships because uhm why not

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

Seabirds- Ralbert

This was originally written on Quotev as a request from someone, using one of their OCs x Race. I’ve changed it to be ralbert, as their OC isn’t mine and we kinda fell out of touch for reasons, so enjoy this cute little Ralbert fic!

    “Al, would you look at this?”

    Albert heard the awe in Race’s voice as he stared over the edge of the bridge, and he glanced over to see what his boyfriend was looking at. Their walk was supposed to be a short trip across the bridge, to Brooklyn and back to make sure Spot Conlon was still tolerant of the union, but the cool evening had set in and the sunset had caught Race’s attention. Albert loved that about him- how he always stopped to appreciate beautiful things. 

    Glancing over the railing, he could just barely see the sun, rays of light coating the world in an almost surreal shade of orange as it disappeared over the horizon. Race’s eyes sparkled with amazement, and he wrapped an arm around Albert as the redhead came to stand beside him. Despite the chilly air of the night as evening set in, Albert’s heart warmed his arms and legs as Race squeezed his shoulders.

    “It’s wonderful,” Albert agreed after a moment, whispering so as to not break the magic of the moment. Race hugged him close, and for a while it was just the two of them, basking in the fading light of the sun. Somewhere in the distance, Albert heard a squawk and smiled as his eyes caught two seagulls flying side-by-side. They weren’t with any other birds, the expanse of the river their only companion other than each other. It seemed some sort of a beautiful symbolism- maybe those birds didn’t need anyone other than themselves. Now, he didn’t know where they were going, most probably south for the winter, but he found himself wishing he was going with them. Far, far away, where the stress of life couldn’t find where he was.

    Briefly, he wondered if Race ever would be willing to leave with him.

    “I wonder where those two birds are going,” Race commented absentmindedly, and it was as if he’d read Albert’s mind. Albert chuckled softly, shrugging.

    “Me too.” Turning to face him, he planted a kiss on Race’s freckled cheek. “Who knows? They could be lovers, heading off to a new life together.” Smiling, he continued to speak, slowly getting lost in his own thoughts as he voiced them aloud. “Far away from the hustle and bustle of New York, where they can rest in peace and spend their bird-lives together.”

    Race raised an eyebrow. “You’ve sure thought about this a lot, huh?” He nudged Albert with his elbow, grinning at him teasingly. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

    Albert blushed slightly, elbowing Race back and laughing. “I guess so.” He looked back out at the river. “I think it’s kind of a metaphor, you know?”

    Race nodded beside him, humming in response. “I think I get it,” he said after a moment, his voice slightly wistful.

    “Do you ever think we could do something like that? Run away together, I mean.” Albert glanced up at him, his heart rate suddenly picking up as the weight of the question hung between them. Race paused for a second, and Albert genuinely thought he’d messed up.

    He’d already begun to open his mouth and formulate an apology when Race smiled. “I’d want nothing more, mio amato.”

    Albert leaned his head against Race’s chest, smiling to himself, and Race hugged him close as the final bit of light disappeared, leaving the world shrouded in quiet darkness. Normally, the darkness enveloping them would be something for a man to be afraid of, a symbol of lost hope and danger, but those worries meant nothing to the two boys standing on that bridge together.

    Albert liked to think that he and Race were like those seabirds, flying far away from the night, having only each other and their shadow-like outlines in the sky to let the busy world beneath them know that they were there.

[emmedoesntdomath]

haha hey what if. newsies dead poets au

AFISNDOANSOANFN IT DELETED MY FIRST ANSWER. FINE. WHATEVER. ANYWAYS.

so I’m thinking there are two ways this can go down-

(with me flying fast and loose between 92sies and livesies)-

one: the poets become newsies. essentially they’ll be “filling in” the roles each newsie brings to the film/show. neil is jack, because of course he is. he’s the charismatic leader who needs more therapy than he can pay for. his davey is obviously todd, because he’s the shy, smart kid that likes to be hidden behind his boyfriend best friend. charlie is the comedic relief of a best friend, making him race. and since knox is his best friend who’s more than half in love with him, he can be the other comedic relief of albert. we all know meeks and pitts are in love (guys, they dance together. what?), so they can take the place of kid blink and mush, respectively. do I have to include cameron? I feel like I have to include cameron. I guess he can take the spot of boots, which feels rude to boots, but I think he knows I’m sorry about it, so we’re good. keating, of course, is our father figure news reporter, and chris is sarah (WHICH MAKES GINNY HER KATH AND OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT IM SO SMART). mr. perry can be snyder, the rat, and mr. nolan is pulitzer. and stick is crutchie (no, I do not care that he’s not technically a character. he is my baby, and he can be neil’s little brother. fight me.)

I really like that one, actually.

two: the newsies become poets. same concept, other way around. now, the most obvious choice is to make jack and davey neil and todd again, but that’s a cop-out and I refuse. so. crutchie deserves to be todd, because they’re both so cute. davey can be neil, with jack being his charlie (does that mean davey/crutchie? I don’t know. is javid platonic in any scenario? I think not.). finch is meeks, albert is pitts. race is now our knox, pining HARD after- wait for it- our chet danburry character, mr. spot conlon, who is engaged (against his will) to katherine pulitzer, the wealthy daughter of the headmaster, joseph pulitzer (sarah needs to come steal kath away so race can marry a rice man). les is cameron, but specifically livesies les. the other les(es) are too good to be cameron’s character. snyder can be mr. perry (AHHHH. DAVEY WHAT HAPPENED YOU POOR SOUL). and denton is still keating because I don’t know who else would work there.

…well, damn. I love both of those. option one’s definitely more practical and sane, but I adore the chaos and hot mess that is option two. oh well. let me know which ones you guys like.

[mostlybroadway]

i cannot wait to show the world my newsies ralbert when harry met sally au i came up with on a 9 hour flight from london 🥳

[incorrect-batfam-quotes-mostly]

Albert: Did you know that there’s a rumor going around that you’re in love with Spot Conlon?

Race: A rumor? Are you telling me people are doubting it?