commiserate with me friends

so dex gets a boyfriend.

and it’s fine, okay, it’s great, nursey is super happy for him, really. guy’s getting some, you know? and this dude seems okay. everyone else thinks the sun shines out of his ass which is ridiculous but- it’s fine. nursey is super happy for them. really.

except bitty keeps looking at him sympathetically every time dex and his boyfriend wander into the haus holding hands, and lardo keeps giving him commiserative slaps on the back, and ransom and holster keep spouting metaphorical bullshit about the course of true love that bitty says they got from a guy called johnson.

in the end chowder is the only one he can stand to be around for extended periods of time, which seems to please the goalie to no end. he chats away happily about his girlfriend and the sharks and jack zimmermann, completely oblivious to nursey’s sour mood. his general cheer actually goes some way to make nursey relax as he listens to chowder go on about farmer’s hair, and her eyes, and that warm feeling he gets every time she walks into a room-

oh. well. okay then.

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My parents and certain friends do this thing where they commiserate with me when I’m complaining about people, but they criticize people for things that are morally neutral but low-status in ways that make me uncomfortable, instead of the thing that I actually don’t like about the person.

Example A:

Me: ugh, remember when I used to hang out with [person] and they did [thing]?

Parents: Ugh, yeah, I never liked them. I saw them the other day, and they had gained so much weight, ew.

Me: no…….

Example B:

Me: I’m so glad I stopped interacting with [person] when they [did a bad thing to my friends], because honestly I never really liked them that much and always thought they were a bit of a creep.

Parents: Yeah, me too. Also one time I saw them buying medications for depression or something. In public! I don’t know why someone would do something like that where other people could see them.

Me: no……..

Example C:

Me: I can’t believe [person] was so awful to you last year. I’m glad they transferred to another school.

Friend: Yeah, they were awful, and they do drugs now. I can’t believe we used to hang out with a person who does drugs!

Me: no………

This isn’t meant to be a condemnation of my parents/friends, who are good, reasonably tolerant people (especially given their cultural backgrounds). And I should note that my parents stopped criticizing things in these categories when I told them it made me uncomfortable. But this seems to be a thing people do a lot when criticizing low-status people (eg “this person keeps calling me a bitch on Twitter AND they’re a gross autistic neckbeard”, “this person has really reprehensible political beliefs AND their pronouns are stupid”, “this person keeps saying uncomfortable sexual things to me AND she’s a trans woman so she probably has male privilege”, etc). I think this is bad practice because it equates low-status characteristics with actual bad qualities. And I know lot of people (myself included) have been guilty of this, and it can be hard to correct yourself if you dislike a person enough. But I, personally, am making a public commitment to stop.

Me and a friend were commiserating over this horrible class we had to take on Saturday morning and
  • Her: I'd rather watch hardcore gay porn than sit through one minute of this godawful class
  • Me: you say it like it's a bad alternative

Oliver was trapped. He’d made a strategic error that left him weaponless and pinned into a corner with no escape. His only option was to attempt to melt into the shadows and hope he went unnoticed long enough to come up with a better plan.

He took a slow measured breath, holding his body still and resisting the urge to tense when he heard the footsteps pause in the door way. His position was unfortunate, his line of sight limited and there was no way to readjust without drawing attention to himself. He’d assured Felicity that he and Dig could handle this by with no problem, then sent her off to relax with Lyla.

Dig, he had no idea where his friend was at the moment. They’d separated to better cover ground and he’d lost sight of him right before he’d been forced to leave his bow behind.

The steps turned back towards the door and he let out the breath he’d been holding in relief. Another mistake. He heard the pause, and braced himself when rapid footfalls started his way.

“Got you!”

Oliver smiled at the triumphant yell and bent to scoop up his giggling daughter.

“Yeah you did!”

Kaylee’s little fists were raised in a victory sign as he carried her into the living room.

“Sara!” she turned to find her friend, who currently had John cornered in the kitchen, Oliver’s lost Nerf bow in her hands, “I found him!”

“Yes!” Sara let a bolt loose from the crossbow, hitting John in the stomach and giggling, “You know what that means, right?”

“I don’t know, you two…” Oliver began, thinking of Felicity’s stern ‘No’ face, “it’s getting pretty late.”

Sara turned the bow towards Oliver, Kaylee fixed him with her own stubborn glare that he was convinced she’d gotten from her mother.

“Daddy,” she spoke slowly, “You and Uncle Dig promised.”

Oliver groaned at the finger poking into his chest.

“Promised, Daddy.”

He looked toward John who gave him a slight shrug and defeated look.

“Alright,” he gave his girl a kiss on the forehead before setting her down, “you two go start the show, and we’ll get the rest.”

The girls squealed and ran off to the TV while Oliver opened the freezer and John grabbed spoons and bowls. Their arms laden with ice cream and various bags of candy, they settled onto the couch and arranged the snacks on the coffee table in front of them.

“Three scoops Daddy.” Kaylee pointed at her bowl, “Please.” She added, remembering her manners.

“Does that mean I get eight?” Sara posed her question to John, hopeful smile spreading wide on her face.

John laughed, “I think the scoops per year of age caps off at three, kiddo.” He ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Man…” Sara didn’t wallow too long in her disappointment, eyeing the bags of candy instead. “But, unlimited toppings right?”

“Within reason.” John shook his head, “You can pick as many as you want, but I say how much of each.”

“I don’t like reason.”

“Me either.” Kaylee commiserated with her friend. “Reason is boring.”

Oliver finished depositing three scoops into two bowls, both girls eyeing his actions like a hawk and ready to pounce if they found him skimping.

When the appropriate amount of candy had been added and everybody was satisfied with the finished product they all settled back into the couch. Oliver, as always, propping his feet up on the coffee table; glad that Felicity was not around. He knew it annoyed her, and maybe that’s why he just couldn’t break the habit. Kaylee was cuddled beside him and against the arm of the couch, her own feet not able to reach the table quite yet and so she settled for his own legs instead. Dig and Sara were mirroring their positions on the opposite end.

“Alright, everybody ready to start the movie?”

Both girls nodded with excitement, mouths currently too full to say anything. Dig pressed play on Kaylee and Sara’s current favorite movie. The Labyrinth.

Felicity had been adamant that her child would have good taste in movies, and so far they’d managed to avoid the Frozen debacle. Oliver was not complaining in the least, he’d seen the bewildered faces on fathers at the toy section, heard enough little voices demanding that they ‘let it go’, to know he’d dodged a bullet.

He wasn’t paying much attention to the movie, they’d seen it so many times now that he was pretty sure he could recite it word for word. Not that he minded, he actually enjoyed the moments when someone would start a “You remind me of the babe” rendition. Everyone joining in with a line to finish it. Kaylee had finished her ice cream and put her bowl on the table before going back to her place on the couch.

Chubby little hands were holding on to him, her head settled on his chest and he could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo and the sugar she’d wolfed down. Sara and John made it until the group found Ludo; Kaylee held out until the bog of eternal stench before he heard the tell-tale sleep sigh. Her fingers relaxed against his shirt and he softly kissed the top of her head.

Felicity and Lyla found them all sleeping, an ice cream container had melted and condensation puddled against the table. Felicity shook her head and sighed at Oliver’s feet crossed next to it.

“Boys.” Lyla murmured, “We really should’ve known better. They are adorable though.”

Felicity grinned, “They really are.”

She took in the scene before her, loving the sight of the two loves of her life cuddled together and content.

“Wait.” Her smile froze on her face. “They better have left me a popsicle!”

occidorien-deactivated20150605  asked:

The fact that OUaT writers/showrunners have ignored the fact that Regina and Emma have combined magic three times is fucking criminal. Apparently, two of the main characters combining their powers doesn't mean much on a show where MAGIC MATTERS SO VERY MUCH (or am I missing something?). Pardon my outburst. Perhaps I've watched the show too closely...? I suppose I'm looking for commiseration because it's driving me crazy.

Oh, we completely understand, friend. And the simple answer is — you are delusional! *snorts* Sorry, I had to. But that’s just it, it’s easier to call a mass of people delusional for finding that logic and significance in this ‘action-packed’ jumble of inconsistencies — than simply admit that there are only two other possible explanations:

  1. Insipid, unintelligent writing with no plan, construction or logic, no consistency in development or characterisation — nothing but simple catering to the lowest common denominator (Fifty Shades of Twilight mundane GA) and vapid use of currently marketed golden-hen franchises (Frozen, Maleficent) as all they care about is ratings and cash flow.

  1. Blatant queerbaiting (including the latest “entire episode devoted to just that relationship and how they feel about each other” thing?) which again, only for ratings and cashflow, because…


(if you’ll pardon our outburst ;)

Which one IS it then? What do you think?

Fic: Locked Out - Final Run

[Before I begin, a word of advice to my readers. Please do not follow Belle’s lead and let strange naked dudes you’ve never met into your hotel room. Please. This is fiction and I feel responsible for my readers. Please don’t do this. Stay safe.]

Dedicated to @emospritelet​. May your holiday misadventures keep us in fanfic fodder for many years to come!

Sorry this took a while, but here it is! The final part of Locked Out. This time it’s Gold who’s locked out of his room, but Belle still sees rather more than she bargained for. 

First Run
Second Run


Locked Out – Final Run

It took Gold all of three seconds to realise that he had made a terrible mistake and this was not, in fact, the hotel room bathroom. It took another half a second for his blood – pleasantly warmed from an extreme excess of gin the night before – to run cold at the realisation that the hotel room door had swung closed behind him and he had no way of getting back inside to correct this incredibly terrible mistake.

In his circumstances, he thought that he ought to be commended for not giving blind panic immediately. He took an entire minute to fully consider his predicament before he started to panic. There were several reasons why panicking was a perfectly legitimate reaction, in his opinion. Firstly, he was locked out of his hotel room. Secondly, he was still drunk. Thirdly, there was a very pressing reason why he had gone through what he had thought was the bathroom door. Fourthly, he was not wearing any clothes. Fifthly, he could not remember why he was not wearing any clothes. He thought that the reason he was not wearing any clothes probably had something to do with Ella, but he really couldn’t be certain of that.

Having processed all of this information, Gold began, as any other self-respecting man in his position would have done, to panic.

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