#I’m not a Logan and Jean shipper sorry y’all

[yuripira4e]

does anyone else like poolverine but starts kind of tweaking when it keeps winning all the Logan ship wars now like hold on no way you think car blowjob beats his and Kurt’s numerous love confessions mixed with Catholic guilt and whiskey breath or his and storms power couple on and off for years and the right person wrong time or his and Scott’s rivals who are so similar and probably have also given each other angry car blowies I’m so confused guys

Edit: please don’t be mean to each other y’all. It’s a fun comic shipping thing. Ship what you want as long as it’s legal and have fun. And support your community

[olivermajor226]

Every Time

Disclaimer*: Personal story/feeling grateful time because I’m a sap and Fray is almost over. Please disregard if personal crap like this ain’t your thang.  

It’s the summer of 2000 and I am 13. I have just moved for the fourth major time in my childhood, this time from Alabama to Nebraska. I start the eighth grade with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire clutched to my chest like it’s going to shield and protect me from all those awkward middle school encounters that are made so much worse when you’re the new kid in town. The New Kid is a role I am used to playing, however, so when I walk into the cafeteria I know to find a fringe group of girls that are probably smart but not popular that might accept me into the fold. I find them. One draws intricate designs over her hands all day with a ball point pen, the other is bookish and likes Harry Potter too. I take up eating lunch with them for the next few weeks, and we form fragile friendships. One afternoon I realize they are quoting the lines from the scene where Rogue is riding in Logan’s truck early on in X-Men. “When they come out, does it hurt?” “Every time.” I ask my mom to rent X-Men when it comes out on DVD, because in the midst of moving this summer we didn’t get to see it. We rent it, and I watch that scene with Logan and Rogue inside his truck before they get into the accident maybe six times, having to sit through that stupid-ass scene before it each time of Jean addressing congress or some shit because back then on a DVD you could only skip back in ten-minute increments.

Fast-forward to high school. We stick around in Nebraska for better or worse, even though I’ve dramatically sworn to my mother that I refuse to marry anyone from this awful state, even though I’m only, like, 15. Lolz. I still end up with a boyfriend who has read a few comic books and thinks he’s a hipster nerd but really isn’t. We see X2 in theatres, which I enjoy, but find myself getting angry at because I thought for sure Logan and Rogue were going to get together. I am frustrated by the movie, but my boyfriend geeks out about the Phoenix in the water at the end. We leave, and I don’t give it another thought.

After that, I get real busy. I go to college and really get into Rent and Outlander. I graduate and work at a public relations job I hate for a few years. I don’t see The Last Stand or Origins. I have a string of awful relationships. In 2010, I start dating a dude I think I might wanna keep around (and he’s 12 years older than me, go figure. :P), and right around the time I make the decision to go to grad school, he proposes. I go get a masters in English, writing my ass off all the time, giving up on fic altogether because my masters’ thesis in creative nonfiction has taken over my life. I do make time to see First Class and Days of Future Past with the fiancé-turned-husband, enjoy them both, pout a little because I remember Rogue being in this and where the hell is she? and then go on with my life.

I don’t ever see The Wolverine even though back then I know I like the character. It’s probably because 2013 ends up being an awful fucking year. I graduate from grad school that year, but we have a couple of miscarriages in 2013. TMI, probably, but there you have it. I write two essays about the losses, which helps, and those essays end up getting published. I start to think maybe I’m a real writer. I get accepted into a program to go get a PhD in creative nonfiction, but choose not to go because it’s only partially funded and in the summer of ’14 I get pregnant and stay pregnant. The pregnancy is a pain in my fucking ass, but we buy a house that year and I get a full-time job teaching English at a college despite the lack of a PhD, which is good. In 2015 my daughter is born and I no longer have any time to myself. I see two, two, movies in theatres in 2015. I don’t even remember what they were. My daughter wakes up three times a night every night for over a year, and until about the spring of 2016, I’m a fucking zombie. 

After that, former pieces of my old life begin to come back to me. I go out a little more often, reestablish friendships. I want to see Deadpool but it doesn’t happen. I hear Apocalypse sucks so I don’t see that either. Meanwhile, we talk about trying for another kid, just one more so Ada isn’t an only child, but I’m super nervous to do that. I don’t want to relive 2013. I don’t even want to talk about reliving it. My brother senses my growing tension and even though he lives 45 minutes away, he drives up to Omaha and suggests a late night movie, also detecting my need for a break from my freshly-turned two-year-old. We head out to a late-night screening of Logan in March of 2017. I remember feeling like, really cool, to be out in public past 9pm. So this is what it feels like to be an adult. I forgot. Quite honestly, I am way more invested in the fact that I get to have a couple of alcoholic beverages than in the movie that is about to start. But then, it does start, and the movie hits me. Like it wallops me over the head, punches me in the fucking face, hits me. I don’t cry in movies, and I cry like a fucking baby. I go home and the house is dark because everyone else has long gone to sleep. I flop into bed, but I don’t go to sleep. Instead, I think about the movie. I want to see it again. I want to understand it. I want to understand why it got me so good.

I start researching obsessively. I now watch all the X-Men movies, in order, and then I watch them again. And then again with my husband on our summer vacation. Lol. I start reading comic books, something I’ve never done in the past. The conversation about another kid comes up and we decide to move off birth control starting in July.

Meanwhile, I wonder about Rogue some more, wonder what happened to her, and I keep coming back to the fact that if Logan somehow for some reason reached Rogue before she was dead, Rogue would have been the only other one that could have physically survived the Westchester incident. I wonder if any fic out there addresses this, so I go hunting for stories, find a couple of awesome ones that sort of touch on it, which in turn leads me into reading a SHIT TON of other amazing Rogan fic, keeping me occupied and my anxiety low about having another kid all summer long.

I realize there’s this amazing community of writers/shippers out there, even though as I read Logan I think there is no way in hell I could write him. He’s too different from me. But I still have mad respect for him. I see in him strength, the I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude I wish I had, but don’t. To me, Rogue’s the same way. She’s fiery and passionate. She reminds me of all those southern girls I went to middle school with in Alabama that I envied. She doesn’t put up with bullshit. I’m not like them, I’m nervous about writing them, but I love reading them.

 The first month we try for a kid, it’s a no-go. I get nervous, I don’t like the waiting game, and that nagging question about Rogue and the Westchester incident becomes a plot bunny that’s so damn annoying I get over my hesitancy of writing the characters, and I post a fic with serious goals of finishing it for the first time in eight years. People read my shit and say nice things about it. My insides feel warm and gooey.

Another month rolls by. Four weeks into writing Fray, I find out I’m pregnant on a Thursday morning. I’m happy about this. At least it didn’t take a long fucking time. I go in for a blood test to confirm that day. The next morning the doctor says my levels are too low and I am most likely already miscarrying. I shove the news down deep, and continue on. But for the next two weeks I have to drag my toddler and my sorry ass to the women’s hospital eight more times for more blood work. The levels go up a little and then they go down a little, only to go back up again. It’s too early for an ultrasound, so that’s not an option. I get phone calls from the doctor practically every day. You might be pregnant still. You’re definitely not pregnant. Uh, wait, hold on a second. Uh, nope. Umm…maybe? Finally I get a real answer. It’s definitely not gonna happen. A third fucking miscarriage. I had just finished writing chapter 15. 

This is all to say, these characters have been essential to my wellbeing in various ways all year long.  2017 could have looked like 2013, but I was lucky enough to go watch a movie with my brother on a cold March night which landed me here, in the company of great people like you guys. I don’t share to make anyone uncomfortable, but I wanna let you know how much of an amazing time I’ve had and how important all of this has been. (Why do you think Fray has been so goddamn emotional recently? Lolz.) When I haven’t wanted to do my life, I got to slip into the shoes of other characters who are strong and fiery and brave, and that, along with getting to chat with amazing people like you, has been my fucking saving grace.

So, thanks, y’all. And let’s keep this party going. I took a break from writing tonight to write this instead, but Chapter 21 is headed your way soon.