I’ve always tried to see the bad inside myself and the good inside others. I’ve remained silent until I’ve been asked to speak, because it’s better than being asked to become silent. I used to ruin the present by worrying about the future and then weeped by recalling the past. I believe that every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. Life’s saddest lesson is that the closest people in our life aren’t always the ones who love us the most. I’ve never looked at money as a companion, because it only benefits me when it leaves me. I believe that a liars biggest punishment in this world is that even his truth is rejected. There’s two faces I won’t forget in this life, the one who helped me in time of need and the one who left me in difficult times. I’ve always tried to do what is right instead of what is easy. Always tried to match my words with my actions, because I want to be defined by my actions, not my words. I didn’t know how strong I was, until being strong was my only choice. One thing I’ve learned about people is that if they do it once, they’ll do it again. I`ve always been thankful for the bad things in life, because they’ve opened my eyes to see the good things. As long as I’m standing, I’ll try to give a hand to those who have fallen. I never have and I never will trade respect for attention. The best lessons I’ve learned in life came from the worst feelings I felt in life. I want the rainbow, so I`m dealing with the rain. When I’ve got all that I need, I’ve planned to build a longer table, not a higher fence. I used to be afraid of feeling happy, because it never lasted. I’ve learned that if I fight for my dreams, my dreams will fight for me. My highest ambition is to get to the top and laugh at the things that thought they could bury me. I’ve started to choose my companions wisely, because I’m choosing the front row of my funeral. As I was born crying with people around me laughing, I want to die happy with people crying around me.
Because I adore Phichit from the bottom of my heart and apparently y’all agree:
Phichit and Yuuri have known each other basically their entire lives. They met in daycare when they were both 3 and the rest is history. Their families live in the same neighbourhood, so they always have sleepovers and stuff, and went to the same elementary, middle, and high schools.
Yuuri is a shy extrovert. He panics about having to meet new people or talk to strangers, but he craves social interaction - he gets energy from being around people. And that’s where his lovely best friend, Phichit, comes in. Phichit is an outgoing extrovert - he acts as a buffer for Yuuri, helps get himself out of conversations he’d rather not be in, and helps him make new friends.
Pretty much everyone at their school is convinced that Yuuri and Phichit are dating. Neither of them minds, because none of the guys at their school are dateable anyways, and at least this way they have a plausible reason to say no. They probably take advantage of those “couple” discounts on valentines day by pretending to be together.
Phichit is instagram famous - half his followers follow him because every other picture on his account is of Yuuri (who, unfortunately, doesn’t have his own instagram).
Yuuri has no clue about fashion, so he lets Phichit dress him. Phichit takes great glee in choosing their styles, and changing them whenever he gets bored. There’s no set timeframe really - their “punk” phase in middle school lasted only a week, but they spent all of high school as “hipsters” - complete with flower crowns, oversized sweaters, colourful skinny jeans (and, on one memorable occasion in senior year, matching pokemon-print skirts).
For their first month or so of college, Phichit decides to dress them like dudebros, which results in them being adopted by the resident dudebros at their college. They’re not part of any fraternities, but somehow get invited to all the cool parties anyways. Everyone has lowkey crushes on the both of them (especially after that time Yuuri came to a party in sinfully tight skinnies and a muscle tee that did nothing to hide the abs (and other such muscles) he developed over a lifetime passion for ballet, and dancing in general).
Phichit is a fashion student, and the moment he sees his classmate, Viktor Nikiforov, in all his fae-like beauty, his long silver hair and delicate features, he knows with an unshakable certainty that Yuuri is going to fall head over heels for the man. And, of course, Viktor is going to fall head over heels for Yuuri (because Yuuri is amazing and perfect and all that is good in this world, and how could anyone not fall in love with him!?) and they’re going to get married and have beautiful, amazing babies together, no matter how much Yuuri protests that that isn’t physically possible, and Phichit is going to be the cool uncle that always brings them presents and takes them out for ice cream and is the “favourite parent” despite not actually being their parent.
Needless to say, Phichit is right, and the two of them fall helplessly in love the moment they see each other. From the outside, it looks like an easy, seamless match of two impossibly perfect people who have the perfect relationship from the getgo. Yuuri walks up to Viktor, in all his dudebro glory, drops a horribly cheesy and outdated pick-up line that actually works and somehow, miraculously, comes out the other side with a date and a gorgeous new boyfriend. (Phichit and Chris are the only ones with the privilege of seeing all the behind the scenes panicking about what to wear, and the anxious what-if-I-mess-up-and-he-hates-me’s, and the embarrassed giggling and clumsy flirting).
Chris and Yuuri (both dance majors) both get on like a house on fire, often practicing their dancing together and even enrolling for pole dancing classes together.
Phichit and Viktor are both delighted to find out Yuuri is each other’s muse and bond over gushing about how perfect he is, only to turn around and start jealously competing over who gets to have him as their model for their year-end project.
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concept: chirrut and baze first meet as teenagers when baze first comes to the temple at jedha after being orphaned or something similarly tragic. he’s angry and irrational and hurting and very hotheaded, and when chirrut bumps into him in the hall, he challenges him to a fight. chirrut turns around and baze realizes he’s blind and thinks oh shit, i can’t just fight a blind guy. but chirrut is actually very much down to fight, and baze is just like okay, it’d be rude to retract the offer now, i’ll just go easy on him.
chirrut kicks his ass in like, ten seconds. and he won’t stop laughing about it either, because that’s what you get for thinking i’ll be an easy match! baze’s bruises last for over two weeks, and that’s how he finds his new best friend/kind of falls in love.
Family dynamics are complicated. Everyone knows that. You have your kitchen witches who can feed an army in the blink of an eye. People forget how dangerous they can be. The talent for pouring your will, your essence, into a pot bubbling on the stove, is not one to take lightly. You can heal people with it, or you can kill. If you let the bitterness coiled in your heart touch your hands while you’re stirring that sauce, you can set someone to wasting away from hunger that will never be satisfied.
Then you have the peacemakers. They can charm a room with a breath. Not the kind of charm that worms its way into the blood and can build enough wanting to start a war, but the kind that diffuses a storm before a fist is thrown. When the air is never cleared, peace becomes more valuable.
There are all kinds of families, and all of them are complicated. Every home is walls that have soaked up the love and hate that only ever lives inside a family bound by blood. The problem is, when you’re the quiet one, the one nobody sees in the corner behind a book or slipping between the shadows because you’re still so very small and they haven’t learned to notice you yet, people forget that you have eyes, and a mind, and though you will eventually inherit some of the talents your family is known for, you are still yourself.
Some people are magnets for souls that need unburdened. Whether they like it or not. The luckiest can take the occasional hit of someone truly confessing in need, because these are balanced by all the flibbertigibbet streams of consciousness who are still too afraid to ask, but still need to be heard. The talent for seeing is often coupled to a talent for nudging. If you’re going to help, you have to be able to sway a soul in the desired direction. It’s a pity so many with this talent, misuse it.
They forget that your gift, is to remember. They forget you don’t sleep when you’re supposed to. They forget you understand more than you should. When you’re small, they forget who they are supposed to be. The words flow in a constant hum. Your dreams wake the house and you don’t know why. They’ve forgotten, but you can’t forget at all.
Then one day, you sit in an empty house, surrounded by the rage and screams and memories of bones that were never yours, breaking. You sit there, with a piece of bread. The bread is supposed to belong to you. It is absolution and exculpation and in that bread is not one drop of regret for what you have been asked to do.
You listen to the room, with its desperate sussurations imploring you to do what you came here for or get out and be damned.
“Family dynamics are complicated. Everyone knows that,” you make certain to speak clearly, because you’re only going to be able to say it once. You pour oil over the piece of bread, the way you’re supposed to, and you can’t stop yourself from fidgeting with the matchbook, to light the candle in the center of the table.
“I spent years swallowing what you all forgot I could hear. Every time, it burned, like acid on my tongue. You forgot I was there, you forgot that remembering is my purpose, you forgot that of all the talents we carry, this one scars deep and quick. You forgot even though you woke with the screams that I never uttered, ringing in your ears. And yet you ask this of me.”
The room is ready to shatter. You hold it there. There should be something more meaningful than this, something that guarantees you walk away cleanly from the things these restless, long-dormant ghosts have weighted you down with since you were old enough to hear them. If such a thing exists, you haven’t found it yet, so you make do with what you’ve got.
“I wasn’t built to be this family’s sin-eater. I’ve done it, for far too long, but I will not do this.”
It’s easy, then, to drop a match into the oil, and listen to the screams of those who never once asked for forgiveness, as they burn.
They’re filming the penultimate episode when Erasmus throws a huge, shining spanner into the neat mechanism of Laurent’s show.
This close to the end, the on-camera small talk is finally giving way to more serious discussions about compatibility. Damen is meant to spend this afternoon asking each suitor in turn where they see themselves in five years, and what they really want out of life.
Erasmus is first; he sits on the edge of the couch, set at an angle to the leather armchair where Damen is enthroned, and twists his hands together. He hasn’t looked this visibly nervous in a while. Damen has obviously noticed it too, because he bats a few sillier questions at Erasmus instead of plunging straight into the heavy topics. He has an instinct for people that makes Laurent wonder what kind of easily-swayed idiot Theomedes must be, not to see how wired Damen is for leadership.
When Damen poses the in-five-years question, Erasmus runs a tongue over his lips and colour fills his cheeks. He’s the only suitor who hasn’t yet kissed Damen at least once on camera, and Laurent approved of that on the basis that it maintained tension, but now would be a good time for a kiss if one is going to happen.
Laurent moves his eyes away from Damen’s mouth.
Erasmus says, still blushing, “This is hard to say. I think you’re incredible, Damen. Really. But–”