REMEMBER HOW VIKTOR SKATES STAY CLOSE TO ME TO YUURI IN THE ABSOLUTE FIRST SCENE
AND THEN HE GETS THIS SMILE ON HIS FACE
THIS IS THE SOFTEST VIKTOR
especially when you consider how sad he looks while skating the same program at Worlds, because although it might be an artistic choice I also think it’s meant to highlight the deep longing Viktor feels for someone to be close to
NOT ONLY DOES HE GET TO PAIR SKATE THIS PROGRAM WITH THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE HE ALSO FINALLY GETS TO PERFORM IT KNOWING THAT HE’S NOT ALONE ANYMORE BECAUSE YUURI WILL NEVER LEAVE HIM
The invitation comes hand-delivered by a man in a suit. Bitty’s the one to open the door, and hesitantly affirms when he’s asked if he’s Eric Bittle. The card is handed to him, and the man politely leaves, heading back to the black Lincoln idling outside. Bitty catches a few LAX bros peaking out their window, drawn to fancy cars like moths to a flame.
“It wasn’t a lawyer,” Bitty calls, and five giant men unfurl themselves from where they’ve been cowering.
He turns the card over in his hand. It’s thick, off white, bordered with metallic gold that looks suspiciously real. The whole thing is written in twisting calligraphy, so ornate he wouldn’t have been able distinguish his own name if he didn’t know to look for it. The flip side contains an invitation to Kent Parson’s housewarming party with the time and date, and RSVPs can be made via twitter. The card smells of Chanel No. 5.
Bitty Skypes Jack about it later that night. It’s a bit frustrating, because Jack doesn’t understand the subtleties of passive-aggression and keeps insisting that Kent just likes fancy things and genuinely wants them there at his party.
“It’s a game to him, Jack!” Bitty half yells, the card pinned to his wall as a reminder of what he’s up against. “Well, he has the resources, but I have the brains. Do you think you can find out what color his bathroom is? I want to give him clashing towels.”
I have this horrific thing where I’m really bad with names and faces. I have an appalling memory. Someone will come up to me in the street and go, ‘Eddie!’, and I’ll try and give myself time by going into overdrive, ‘Hey, hi! Nice to see you!’ and start a whole conversation because I can’t distinguish between who I know and who I don’t.
honestly there are two kinds of people who make history posts on this blue hellsite, and they’re all either
“LISTEN HERE MOTHERFUCKERS LET ME LEARN YOU A THING ABT THE MOST BADASS HUMAN THAT GRACED THIS PATHETIC EARTH WITH THEIR PRESENCE AND WHOM EVERYONE SHOULD ADMIRE BC THEY ARE THE BEST AND MOST HEROIC PERSON TO WHOM WE AS A SOCIETY ARE ETERNALLY INDEBTED: john jay.”
“okay so unlike you basic bitches who can’t read, i’ve been doing some actual research so guess what? i, a 20-something in my first year of college, am now the only and leading expert on my chosen topic. yall better listen to me bc i’m right and you’re wrong, you uneducated babies. my interpretation of the source material is now absolute truth and yours is stupid and yall should be happy that i’m even telling you this, you worthless slime people, so fuck off. i despise my audience”