#do you still have to want something that's literally not possible? fuck no

[quarterlifekitty]

Just some more thoughts on König with a clingy girl.

He’s not used to physical intimacy by any means. He’s paid for girls plenty of times, have a few flings during different leaves, but never anything sweet. Never a girlfriend.

Before you even get together, you’re clingy. You like hugs. You like leaning on him when you’re sat next to each other, falling asleep on him. Which makes him fall in love so quickly, by the way. He’s addicted to feeling you warm on his skin.

And when he does manage to sweet talk his way into the boyfriend position? He melts under every crumb of affection. Every kiss to the cheek, every nuzzle, every time you park yourself in his lap.

Man is a death grip hand-holder. His height makes him hard to lose in crowds, but he still doesn’t want to be separated. Letting go of your hand is literally like his last resort.

And let it be said. This man wants to fuck you with as much skin to skin contact as possible. Sure, he’ll never say no to a quickie, but his favorite type of sex is when you’re both completely bare and have space to get in every position imaginable. He likes you pressed completely against him— chest to chest if possible, maybe back to chest (especially if a full length mirror is involved).

And then there’s the emotional clinging. He’s very insecure about the idea of wanting you more than you want him, so it always makes him so happy when you’re the one texting, calling, or just coming into the same room as him to hang out. He loves when you contact him for no reason at all— just to check on him. One time when he asked why you called, you said “I just wanted to hear your voice,” and he almost fainted from how giddy it made him. And he doesn’t have so much going on besides work, so he really doesn’t mind if you’re the type to want to spend every hour of every day with him.

The hardest fucking you ever got from König was a few weeks after you first moved in together. He had to be on base for the day, and you had a day off. You meet him at the door— you headed there as soon as you heard the car— and wrap him up in an embrace that he gladly returns.

“So, leibling, what did you do all day today?”

“I waited for you to come home,” you say absentmindedly, just rubbing his back and pressing your cheek to his chest. You don’t notice how he almost starts trembling from your words, his heart feeling like it’s about to burst.

He needs to be inside you— can barely hold it together enough to carry you to bed like a fucking caveman. Starts thinking you need something else to cling to when he’s away… something that can cling to him when he comes home. A baby would suit you both very nicely, yeah?

[nova-rogue]

The assumption that all production is a monolith is certainly a choice here. Two major things on cinematography:

Cinematographers are generally good at their job. They know way more than you could ever know about lighting a scene. Someone taking a screenshot and "brightening" it in software like photoshop is NEVER going to prove the point you think you're proving. Because lighting doesn't work that way and you're taking a 2D still of a 3D film that already has processing and compression and using a brightening tool. Like that's not how that works at all. This is a dumb comparison to make. You don't have the original captured image and all of its data. You cannot adjust the brightness with a screenshot: you need to be able to process the full image data.

A big downfall, though: Movies are lit specifically for the best case scenario of lighting and color nuance. Theater screens and projectors are supposed to be kept clean, working, and up to spec, and movies are lit for that purpose. A movie is rarely "too dark" it's just that you're watching it sub-optimally on a computer, phone, or TV, or god forbid on a movie projector that hasn't had its routine maintenance (something that notably got worse because of the pandemic!). This isn't your fault as a consumer btw, it's just a stupid disparity that exists.

Cinematographers light differently than you'd expect. White is meant to be seen as the BRIGHTEST thing on the screen. Every ounce of brightness is lit down based on that. Your computer screen? There are things just as bright as white because of the way brightness is done on computer monitors. Cinematographers use a system called False Color in order to identify and "visualize" brightness levels:

Note that Brightness has to do with literal light output and not hue or saturation. Those are different things.

Cinematographers use False Color overlays when adjusting for lighting on set in order to determine the appropriate levels based around pure white being the brightest thing ever on screen and pure black being the darkest possible thing.

Because of this: compression is a bitch. If you're watching on any at-home device your device is compressing the shit out of the bottom end of the spectrum! You are seeing LESS detail than intended. There will be artifacting there that's typically pretty visible. This doesn't happen with (maintained) projectors.

When you watch on an at-home device you are viewing with less color nuance than is actually captured on camera.

These cinematographers are not "lazy". They're not using "flat lighting" (jesus christ) and they rarely have to "fix things on set" like this post is implying. Their lights and lighting are often just fine. The bigger issue is the technology disparity between what Cinematographers are lighting for--for NUANCE and COLOR RANGE--versus what color range output the average person's device is capable of putting out.

Also, if you're ever watching a pirated movie or show, unfortunately it is highly likely it's in less quality than the original and the compression, artifacting, and overall quality is going to be worse. Not saying you're wrong for doing this (fuck the streaming service hell world), just making mention that pirating does sometimes affect quality.

See Also: VFX is absolutely a bitch too, but we do talk about it wrong. CGI tech is really good now, but I've seen VFX artists on twitter talk about how the biggest issues arise when the production team doesn't have a solid vision for what they want and keep changing their mind or making adjustments to what's needed. Less time to work on the CGI means less quality CGI. Sometimes the lighting and color grading of post-production is affected by this problem as well. If you watched either of Denis Villeneuve's DUNE films, it's worth watching any behind the scenes production stuff you can. You'll note that Villeneuve and Greig Fraser (my favorite cinematographer of all time btw) worked very hard with visual development, story boarding, and pre-production so that they had a clear vision for going into solving cinematography problems in advance, which also makes post-production go smoother. A lot of times it's not even the Director and Cinematographer's fault if they aren't given the time or budget to make things go as smoothly as DUNE.

So yeah, posts like this irritate me because a lot of assumptions are made by people who know very little about how cinematography works. There are little snippets here and there that are correct (like the rushed/lack of vision VFX stuff), but a lot of it gets pinned on either the director or cinematographer, which is often unfair. Someone doesn't get in Greig Fraser's position (or even lower!) by being bad at lighting on set. It's a job with an impossibly high skill ceiling. There is stuff with more mediocre cinematography, but the issues are rarely going to be "lazy lighting". It's usually something else.

OMG. Somebody said it out loud.

Disney is absolutely not the only studio doing this though.

It seems to have become standard practice across movies and series everywhere.

Anything that doesn't do it is like a breath of sunlight and fresh air inside a dank musty cave.

It's part of the 'fix it in post-production' epidemic sweeping through the studios. Fix it in post is often used as a time/money-saving measure - and is absolutely part of the same mess that the WGA is fighting against currently.

Rather than fixing things on-set - audio, lighting, something in-frame that shouldn't be, etc. (which is all handled by unionized crew) - they leave it for the CG folks (not unionized) to edit later.

(on ridiculously tight schedules that leave them scrambling, cutting corners, and working inhumane hours)

See also: that part where scripts aren't finished, because the studio won't fully staff the writers room, and won't pay to have writers on-set for day-of-filming script questions and fixes (which could resolve issues such as 'what kind of lighting do we need here?')

Anyway, all this shit we, as audiences, keep complaining about - bad lighting, bad sound, wonky visual effects, over-usage of not-great CGI, stilted acting on green-screen sets, scripts that seem not-quite-finished, costumes that look like they're cheap and flimsy, terrible hair and makeup, films and series that aren't as polished as they could be...

Plus the complaints we have about streaming services and their shenanigans...

All of that is enmeshed in the extreme capitalism that has taken over everything, including entertainment, to the point that studios are abusing their workforce and churning out material that - at best just doesn't live up to its potential - at worst, is just unwatchable shit.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-one of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” ( no cut today, we die like Steph's tolerance for her dad's bullshit ). prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He should be taking notes, Tim realizes. This is a new and unprecedented level of supervillain behavior that his fifteen-year plan can only aspire to reach. 

“Asdfghjk,” he says, which is apparently actually an actual sound that an actual person can actually make, go figure. Learn something new every day. 

Kon laughs at him, the fucking bastard. Tim would probably swear vengeance but unfortunately Kon looks way too damn pretty and way too damn happy doing it and is not wearing a single thing he didn't buy him and bought him a camera with his first allowance and wants to see him skateboard and has also laughed so many times tonight that Tim is starting to develop the opposite of a tolerance for it. Like, he's getting weaker and weaker to it the more exposure he gets, which is in his opinion total bullshit and totally unfair but is unfortunately still happening. 

. . . well, not necessarily unfortunately, since it’s specifically happening because Kon keeps laughing and looking happy about it, but that’s besides the point. Somehow. In some way. Just–somehow. 

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, babe,” Kon says, grinning at him again. He keeps doing that too. He keeps laughing, and grinning, and just–just all these things that Tim is not prepared for and honestly doesn’t even know how he could’ve been? There’s having five minutes of prep time and there’s situations that are just impossible to prepare for because how could he have fucking KNOWN. How?! How could he ever have?!?!

Literally not possible, Tim is certain. 

“You’re actually incorrigible,” he says, quickly flipping his dropped board onto its wheels with a foot and then giving it a quick pop to the tail and hooking a foot underneath it to kick it up into his hand. Kon looks delighted, his eyes immediately lighting up. 

“Sick!” he says. Tim felt like maybe he was getting in a win for a second there, except Kon being genuinely delighted is actually even worse and he thinks he’s just, like, kind of screwed in general now? Kon’s not supposed to be genuinely delighted by things, he’s supposed to pretend to be too cool to be impressed or just jealous that someone else is getting attention! 

Tim really, really could not have ever been prepared for this. 

“So like, do you know any cool tricks?” Kon asks with a wider grin, still looking way too genuine about his excitement. Tim is resigned to ruining his best non-funerary/non-gala slacks and possibly also his shirt and definitely also his dignity. His dignity is as scuffed as the shoe he just dropped his board on, and frankly that’s being optimistic. 

Extremely optimistic. 

“I know a couple okay ones,” Tim says, since Robin-level parkour doesn’t count as either “tricks” or anything he could show Kon, and also he’s screamingly out of practice, and also he was never really that good a skateboarder even when he had the time to do it regularly, plus skill decay is a thing and– 

“That mean you’re gonna show me a trick or two, daddy?” Kon asks, grinning slyly at him.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Luke/Andreas; wined and dined

For the prompt: Andreas and Luke meeting/hooking up the second time

I literally finished this before I realised you guys probably meant like, the second time they hooked up, not the whole second time 'round. Mea culpa, everybody. And for those who interpreted it the same way I did...you're welcome?

Andreas can’t remember the last time he was wined and dined.

Though maybe that isn’t the best way to describe it — Andreas has dinner meetings all the time, has sat beside clients at the best restaurants in almost every NHL city, sampled from the menus of half of New York's most exclusive restaurants. Always on the agency’s dime, of course, or his multi-millionaire client’s, or the teams they play for, or the teams who want to sign them.

There’s plenty of wine involved — though Andreas always restricts himself to a glass when it's business — plenty of dining. But a meeting’s a meeting, whether it’s in a conference room, patiently waiting for a GM who’s been around since there were still six teams in the league to figure out how to unmute his mic, or eating something exceptional at a Michelin Star restaurant.

So obviously that’s not what he means. It’s not that he hasn’t been dating either, though admittedly, he had less and less time to spare for it as he got older. And not that he hasn’t gone on dinner dates specifically, where he allows himself a second glass of wine, orders what he’d like, rather than ‘what he’s having sounds good’, unless, Andreas supposes, it truly does sound good. So there has been wining and dining, in fact. Possibly even a surplus of it.

And yet.

At a certain point Andreas thinks he just stopped expecting romance. It wasn’t any sort of resigned, jaded disappointment at the dating scene. Not that it isn't a shitshow, but it's probably better here than just about anywhere else. More an acknowledgment that most guys didn’t seem to be looking for romance, at least the ones Andreas was dating.

And that was fine, because Andreas wasn’t really looking for it either. Romance was undeniably nice, but he worked long hours, put almost all of himself into his job, and what he had left didn’t require much more than good conversation and some companionship, a spark of attraction, mediocre or better sex. Romance might have come along down the line, but things didn’t tend to last long even when he did find someone who met his simple — yet almost impossible to find — criteria.

That one, he thinks has more to do with him than it does with them. Andreas’ career is one of those things that’s attractive in theory, but significantly less endearing when he’s slipping in and out of bed at all hours, constantly checking his email or ducking out to make a call, flying off to who knows where, sometimes with plenty of notice, sometimes with none at all.

Maybe his life just isn’t conducive to romance. He doesn’t like to think that, but there would be worse things, wouldn’t there? He has a job that he finds fascinating, a job that offers something different every day, a job that, incidentally, pays him more money than he has the time to spend. He could retire tomorrow if he wanted to, live the rest of his life in comfort, dedicate all his time to searching for true love, but why would he want to? It sounds excruciatingly boring.

So he works — he works a lot, works more than he should, at least according to everyone he knows, including Dave, the giant hypocrite — and he — well, he works. But it’s fine. Most people have to search for meaning in his life, but he has his. If anyone asks about it — and they all ask, except Dave, that gem of a fucking man — he says he doesn’t feel like he’s lacking anything. He’s not lying, either.

That doesn’t mean something doesn’t squeeze tight when Luke conveniently ‘happens to be in town’ — though if there’s any town that actually applies to, it’s New York — when he figures they should ‘catch up’. Even as he tells himself that he’s just catching up with an old flame, one who doesn’t even live in the same country as him anymore. Even as he tells himself once for old time’s sake, and then twice doesn’t hurt considering they’ve still got chemistry, then when it’s been three, four, half a dozen, and if Luke’s got a return ticket Andreas doesn’t know when it’s for, but it doesn’t feel like it’s any time soon.

Luke has always been a romantic. He’d deny it up and down if Andreas said it, and it wouldn’t even be a kneejerk macho shit — Andreas doesn’t think Luke even knows he does anything out of the ordinary. Andreas doubts he was thinking ‘I’m going to woo Andreas’ as he asked him out to dinner, not the first time, or the second, not when he came with a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine from a vineyard Andreas mentioned in passing, said he’d cook for him, laughing as he fought with Andreas’ temperamental bottle opener, scoffing when Andreas impatiently intervened before he could ruin a good bottle of wine.

Technically, he doesn’t even know if 'wooing' is Luke’s aim at all. He could just need the change of pace, miss the city, the speed of it, the convenience, and while he was here, Andreas was just as convenient as the rest of it — good conversation, good companionship, Luke more attractive than ever, the sex still fantastic. And they didn’t even have to get to know one another. What could be easier?

But Andreas doesn’t think so, at least not judging by the way Luke’s started looking at him.

Andreas doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him like Luke does, the complete focus of it. Looking isn’t a strong enough word — it’s more like he’s taking him in, trying make sure that he gets every single detail correct, the way Andreas imagines a painter would gaze at their subject, a poet at their lover. Luke’s no poet, but, well — maybe he is, a little, minus the words. There’s something about the way Luke looks at the world. Something about the way Luke looks at him.

It used to unnerve Andreas, a little, especially because Luke wasn’t only looking at him like that over romantic candlelit dinners and endorphin fueled pillow talk, but also during the most mundane moments. Andreas would be scowling at his phone, pecking out an answer to a client who decided he urgently needed to discuss his contract on a Sunday morning, a full season before it expired, and he’d look up and there Luke was, visibly taking him in. Sometimes there’d be a little smile on his face — the moments Andreas let himself be a little cranky there often was — but often there wasn’t, just Luke’s eyes on him, taking him in like he was never going to see him again.

It was — a lot. Luke was a lot, almost from the very beginning. Andreas thought he was going to get a regrettable hook up out of things, and then he thought it was going to be a few of them, and it was like a switch was flipped, and Luke went from the hot, fun, surprisingly good in bed client Andreas had completely unprofessionally fucked — and not just once, but a few times, and then a handful — to even more surprisingly good company outside of bed, to something Andreas didn’t quite have a name for. Someone who was gone even more than Andreas was, someone Andreas started to miss when he was gone. Andreas was the one staying put, most of the time, but Luke was the one always watching him like he’d disappear the moment he closed his eyes.

The look hasn’t changed, and Andreas imagines it means the same thing now as it did then, Luke who doesn’t blink, Luke who jumps both feet first, Luke the romantic.

It doesn’t feel as overwhelming now, though Andreas suspects he’ll be spending some time thinking about just how quickly Luke was on board. How quick they both were — Andreas can’t pretend he doesn’t know what’s coming, what’s already here, can’t pretend that isn’t something he wants, when he could end things with a word.

But he doesn’t. This time Andreas lets himself look back, and when Luke catches him at it, he doesn’t let himself look away.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

A/N: Look what I have for you. Is it Christmas or what? So, this one is a bit shorter, but I wanted to give you something. I am still a sucker for Logan. I just want him so bad, oh my god!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angst, but fluff, implied sex?

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story has sexual scenes.

Words: 2500+

Important note: HughJackman!Wolverine - always!

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BEGIN AGAIN

My body winced and I opened my eyes. The nightmare was gone. I was back in the real world. Was it better than the dream? No. But I was back, on a motel bed that smelled like bleach and mould. At least I had a bed to rest on tonight. Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be as promising as today. Hell, I could be dead now. 

I felt a warm touch on my belly. Fingers traced patterns on my skin. My eyes lifted, meeting the green ones. “Are you okay, baby?” Logan whispered into the darkness. 

It was a ridiculous question to ask. I was not okay. Shit, he wasn’t either. We went through literal hell. So I snuggled closer to him, sniffing his scent as I tried to suppress my tears. “No,” I mumbled into the white top he wore. “I see them in my dreams, haunting me. They are calling my name, pleading for my help.” 

We lost everything, everyone. 

It started when the mutant hunters killed the strongest of us - Jean. We didn’t know how the fuck they managed to do it. She was the fucking Phoenix. We quickly learnt they created a weapon to strip us of our powers. Afterwards, it was too easy. With Jean gone, we knew the rest of us was next. 

Scott died a week later. He wanted revenge. He tried to kill those who killed his love, his woman. Unfortunately, he was captured, stripped of his powers and murdered. 

Charles felt it all. He felt it when Jean died. He felt when Scott’s heart started to beat. We knew this was the end of the line when he told us. 

The whole school prepared for war. The youngest students were sent home or away with those who didn’t want to fight. The rest of them we trained. They wanted to stay, fight with us, and protect the school and this family we built. 

And we lost. 

They all died. Charles, Storm, Hank, Peter… They were all gone. Logan and I fled the moment we realised there wasn’t much we could do. We saw the dead bodies around the school—our friends, and students, lifeless on the bloody wooden floors in a place we once called home.

I hated we left them there. I hated we couldn’t say goodbye. I would have died too if Logan hadn’t pulled me out of the bloodshed. The thought of leaving Logan alone in this unfair cruel world pained me. At least, we survived together. At least I had him.

It’s been two days since we lost our friends - the family we loved and cherished. Two days since we lost our lives and were on the run. This was the first night we were able to lay low and rest. It was because we escaped the States and entered Canada before being caught. It helped that Logan was Canadian.

Logan kissed my forehead. “I see them, too. Their faces haunt me. That’s why I can’t sleep.” 

A tear escaped my eye. I quickly wiped it away. “There was so much blood, Logan. They let them bleed out.” 

“I know,” he whispered. 

I started to cry. My body was shivering. I felt his arms wrap around my shoulder and middle, pulling me as close to him as possible. “Shhh,” he kissed the top of my head. I couldn’t help myself. My emotions were all over the place. I wasn’t able to mourn the loss properly. We had to hide from the world. There was no time to think about our next steps. 

His touch became soothing. I felt the love radiating towards me. I loved him deeply, madly. For this man, I would sell my soul to the devil. And in this twisted world full of death, I was happy that we survived the biggest nightmare of our lives. 

I don’t know how I managed to fall asleep, but when I opened my eyes again, I saw the sun coming through the crack of the curtains. The big, strong arms never left my body. When I glanced at Logan’s face, his eyes were closed. His breathing was even. He was asleep. Good. 

I remained in his embrace, snuggled to his side. I used this opportunity to think about our next steps. I needed to occupy my mind with something, anything. 

We left the States. Now what? Was it wise to stay in Canada? It was so close to the States. What if they decide to hunt mutants in here, too? Even if we moved north, they’d find us there. And maybe… nowhere was safe. Our destiny was already written. We were doomed. 

My eyes were locked on the beige ceiling, and I imagined a plan as my thoughts ran through my mind. I was going back and forth. When I didn’t like the plan, I erased it to a certain point and then moved forward again. 

Out of nowhere, I gasped. There was an important detail I forgot. How could I be so stupid? 

“What?” Logan’s eyes snapped open. He sat up and pushed me away in the process. His fists were clenched, adamantium claws on full display, ready to fight. His breathing was hard. I scared him. Shit. 

Gently, I put my hand on his chest. “It’s just me, I’m so sorry. Everything’s fine.” 

“You okay, baby?” he asked when his eyes found mine. Once I nodded, the claws retracted and he exhaled. “You scared me, Y/N. I thought someone found us. Don’t fucking ever do that again.” 

I shook my head, pressing him back on the bed. “I’m so sorry. I was just thinking about our future. I had been contemplating our next steps, thinking back and forth. And…” I sighed. “We can’t stay in Canada.” 

He frowned, then raised a brow. “Why?” It was a genuine question. 

“You are Canadian, Logan. This will be the first country they’d start to look for you - for us,” I explained. “I get that Canada is one of the biggest states in the world. But, as I said, the main focus would be here, once they have permission to strike here.” 

Logan frowned, not pleased with what I said. It took him a good twenty seconds before he nodded. “Well, you aren’t wrong. So, where should we go?” 

“Scotland.” 

He opened his mouth, closed it, and did it a few times before he said, “Why Scotland?” 

My fingers traced his beard-covered jawline. “I’m half Scottish,” I said. “Scottish-American. I have two passports. I have them here. I took them before we left. I have your IDs and all.” 

“H-how?”

“Always prepared for the worst,” I admitted sadly. “Kept them in a bag with some money and all,” I explained. “When Jean died, I made sure we were ready. I prepared an emergency bag that I kept in a hidden spot. That’s why I ran to the first escape door. The bag was under the floor.”

“My sweet angel,” he exhaled and leaned to me to press his lips on mine. “Always ready. But, no offence, you don’t sound Scottish. You don’t look Scottish,” he chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. “You never told me.” 

My eyes moved around the room, stopping at the creek of the sun coming in. “My father was Scottish. Mother was American. When they died, my mother’s sisters wanted to take me in. They were super religious. They thought they’d be able to cure my mutation with God’s mighty power,” I rolled my eyes. “Luckily, my grandma took me in. I lived with her until I was twenty. Then I decided to move back to the States.” 

Logan’s fingers brushed my hair. “Thank fucking god you did.” When I looked at him, he was smiling. “Otherwise I wouldn’t met you.” 

I climbed over him, putting all my weight on his body. He didn’t mind. Logan’s arms immediately wrapped around me. “We should head to Scotland,” I whispered. “It’s not Canada but my grandmother lives in a village, near the woods. It was magical then. It should be magical now, too.”

He raised a brow, watching me like a hawk. “How do you know she’s still alive?” 

My fingers brushed his nose. “Because I can feel her,” I said. “She’s a mutant too.”

“She is? What’s her mutation?” 

“Nature control,” I explained. “I’m not saying she’s the strongest, but she’s powerful enough to communicate with me through nature, all those miles away.” 

His lips found mine in a gentle kiss. “So we head to Scotland,” he whispered.

“Will you be able to get through the flight?”

His nose scrunched. “For you, I’ll do anything, baby. I’ll get on the fucking plane and suffer through it if it means to be with you.” 

Those words brought tears to my eyes. “I love you. Thank you.” 

. . .

Where are the mutants? It’s been ten years since Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters was destroyed. Since then, no one has seen a mutant. Are they hiding? Are they extinct? More on that this afternoon, at four PM. 

I sighed. Another radio show about mutants. Great. Will they ever leave us at peace? I put my coffee mug down, my eyes locked on the kitchen window as I watched the rain heavily fall from the sky. I loved this dark, cold weather. Autumn in Scotland was magical. Yes, some hated the weather, but not me. I enjoyed it. 

Big hands wrapped around my midsection, pressing me as close to a firm stomach and chest as possible. I hummed, smiling. His scent made my knees weak even after all this time. His lips pressed a kiss to the top of my head. 

“How is my wife today?” Logan’s voice was low but soft. He smelled like rain, mud and oil. He just came back from work. At least he took off the wet clothes before he got all over me. 

Logan and I got married two years after we moved to Scotland. My grandmother died a year before that. I was lucky enough to spend some time with her before she passed. Oh, but she loved Logan. She always called him: my sweet boy. 

I put my hands over his, sighing. “I’m better now that you are here. There was another radio show about mutants,” I said. “How was work?” 

“Alan got stuck under a tree and broke his leg,” he said. “I helped him out and we got him to the nearest hospital. So, he’ll be out for about six to eight weights. Which means a bit more work but more money.” 

I turned around in his arms, eyes meeting his. “How much work? Will you be coming late to us?” 

Logan leaned closer and pressed his lips against mine. “Don’t worry, baby. Nothing drastic, maybe staying at work for an hour longer. And it’s not gonna happen every day. I wouldn’t want to be without you all longer than I need to.” 

Again, our lips met in a sweet kiss, then another until he pressed me against the kitchen counter. His big hand gripped my hips. He was hungry, I could feel it. Even his erection was evident. I wanted him. “Wait, where are the kids?” he pulled from the kiss. 

“In the barn,” I moaned when his lips left mine. I needed him. I put my hands on his chest. This was the perfect opportunity fuck in the kitchen while the kids were nowhere near the house. And hell, it’s been some time since we were intimate. I unbuttoned his flannel shirt. 

We had two kids. Charles, whom we called Charlie, was almost ten. My grandmother was able to see him as an infant before she passed away. She wasn’t happy that we had a child before marriage. But she was all giddy and happy for us once she saw the baby.

And then there was Emma Maria, after my grandmother and Rogue, our friend. She was eight. As far as we knew, Charlie’s mutation didn’t show up. It was only a matter of time before they blossomed. At least both of our children could enjoy childhood without being a threat to the world. 

Logan pulled on my lower lip. “Pretty baby is needy?” He hoisted me up on the kitchen counter, stepping between my legs. “I know, it’s been a while since I was inside you.” His hands stroke my thighs. One of them crawled crawled up my body and the other cupped my clothed sex. 

I closed my eyes, enjoying his touch until he kissed me gently and stepped away. “They are coming inside,” he sighed. Immediately, I whined. 

As I hopped off the kitchen counter, the back door opened, and our children entered the tiny hallway. We heard them undressing and talking to each other. Emma coughed. I frowned. I hoped she wasn’t getting sick. 

Logan leaned against the kitchen aisle, waiting for the kids as I jumped off the counter. Once Emma’s eyes noticed him, she smiled at him. “Hi, dad!” 

“Hey, princess,” he greeted her. He took her into his big arms once she was close, pressing a kiss on top of her head. “What you were doing in the barn?” 

“We have kittens!” she said excitedly. 

I raised a brow. “Oh? Since when?” I saw a stray cat a few times here. I didn’t know she was expecting babies. Well, at least we’ll have someone to catch mice around here. Also, it was beautiful news. I loved cats.

Charlie hugged his father. “They are a couple of days old,” he explained. “She had five of them.” 

“Five?” Logan sighed. I knew he wasn’t happy about it. Before he opened his mouth, I gave him a warning glare. 

“They are so cute and tiny,” Emma smiled. “We’ll keep them, right?” She glared at her father and then at me.

I nodded. “Of course, Em. They can stay in the barn. We have some old towels and clothes. I think I have a spare plastic container for water. We’ll give them a safe home and they’ll be with us.” 

“Baby,” Logan sighed. 

I raised a hand. I didn’t want to hear a word about it. When I found the container, I gave it to Emma. “You’ll bring them water. Charlie, find an old carton box in the garage. I’ll fetch you the towels. And listen,” I turned to him. “Put it into the box nicely and leave the box in a secure, warm space. Don’t put the kittens there. She’ll do it herself,” I explained. 

The moment both kids disappeared, Logan shook his head. “I don’t like this, baby.” 

“Let them have this,” I said. “We don’t have a dog. The cats will stay in the barn and outside. No one is taking them into the house, okay?” 

“Uh-huh,” he rolled his eyes. “Give it a day or two. Emma will sneak them in.” 

I grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him closer to me. “I have my ways of convincing you,” I purred. I pressed my lips to his in a searing kiss. “Just be a good daddy and let the kittens stay.” 

He shook his head, chuckling. Logan leaned closer, his lips to my ear. “I might need a little more convincing to keep the kittens. So, be prepared.” 

I pressed my lips to his cheek. “I love you, Logan.” 

He smiled at me. “Love you too, baby. And the kids, and this life.” 

[luneytodd]

I’m about to start fist fighting mfs in the mouthwashing fandom because everyone likes to give me shit when I say “Curly should’ve thrown Jimmy in the cryopod when he learned about what he was doing to Anya” BUT NOBODY HAS GIVEN ME A VALID REASON AS TO WHY HE COULDN’T HAVE

“tHeY nEeD a cO-piLoT” THEY HAD AN AUTOPILOT!!! One that seemingly worked pretty well too until SOMEBODY got his hands on it. Also you mean to tell me they had a gun on the ship in case of “unrest among crew members” but absolutely NO backup plan in case something happened to the co pilot?? I find that outrageously hard to believe.

“WhY WoUlD tHeY giVE tHe oNLy sUrviVAL pOd To a RaPiSt?” I’m going to spit in your face. I’ve heard this argument so many times it has actually killed my brain cells. So in case this wasn’t 100% clear for whatever reason my suggestion is that they would do this course of action *before* he crashed the ship when there were still (correct me if I’m wrong with this number cause I don’t remember the exact details) THREE working pods, not one. Ideally, Curly would’ve done this as soon as Anya told him about the abuse but the second best time in my opinion would’ve been when Jimmy went on the whole “kill everyone, leave us as martyrs” rant. I don’t give a single fuck what any of you dense motherfuckers say to me ever if MY FRIEND approached me and threatened not only my life but the lives of every single one of my coworkers I’d charge tackle his ass into the pod myself, or at least bribe Swansea to do it.

“tHeY wOuLdn’T gEt pAiD fOr tHe JoB bEcAuSE OF ThE uNNeCeSSArY pOd UsAgE” First of all, fuck you. Genuinely. Second of all, THEY’RE ALL FIRED!!! NO MATTER WHAT!!! INDUSTRY WENT BYE BYE!!! For all intents and purposes, that paycheck would’ve been the filler between this venture and the next. Would losing that be absolutely devastating for some of the people involved? It’s very possible. I don’t know their individual financial statuses and I’m not gonna stand here and argue “they all would’ve been completely fine without the money”. But you know what’s even more devastating than losing your financial safety net? LOSING YOUR GODDAMN LIVES!!! Also in general if you’re prioritizing your own financial interests over the health and wellbeing of the people around you, you are scum arguing for scummy shit and I reiterate my earlier “Fuck you” with an additional “go to hell” just for emphasis. I don’t think a lot of people are making this argument because I’m literally sourcing it from a few randos on tik tok but goddamn if your views align with these particular tik tok randos please for the love of god just block me cause I despise you and everything you stand for.

And like the thing I really want to get across with this entire rant is that I don’t think Curly specifically was an awful person for not taking the absolute most drastic measures every single time Jimmy said some fucked up bullshit. But I’m so so SO over the trend of people acting like he was perfect and there was absolutely nothing he could’ve said or done because Jimmy is this master manipulator who was pulling the strings the entire time cause I also think that’s also total bullshit. I think there were a lot of opportunities to recognize the red flags and I am so fucking tired of this fandom acting like he couldn’t have done something- LITERALLY ANYTHING to help.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Pt 2. Of my one shot (will be posted as one big post on ao3)

Thank you for all the support! It's getting me through a tough time I'm going through rn in my travels. I had a short oneshot in mind like 1000 words but I think I'm gonna fluff it out.

-----

So it keeps...happening.

Eddie gets up, walks to the door, Steve's on the other side.

He pushes past Eddie and heads to his room.

Falls fast asleep.

He hasn't even been drunk the past two times.

This time is a little different.

Eddie's been sleeping next to him of course. How could he pass up the opportunity for something he's been dreaming about for years months weeks.

He can tell Steve's faking being asleep. He's breathing lighter, not the chainsaw snoring Eddie's grown used to. He's spread out like a starfish and Eddie is stiff on the edge of the bed. His face turned towards Steve, he can't resist staring at him.

Steve's eyelids flutter and Eddie's mind races with possibilities. Is he dreaming? Still awake? What's going on?

"Will you shut up and get over here," Steve mutters.

Is he talking in his sleep?

"Eddie." He opens one eye. "Get over here."

What the fuck.

He doesn't even have a second to panic before Steve reaches over and grabs him, successfully rolling him over into his arms.

"Finally." He nestles his face into Eddie's hair. "Give me a copy of your key I'm tired of waiting for you."

Eddie chokes.

"Steve." He strains. "What're you doing."

"Isn't it obvious? Sleeping."

----

Steve's a sweaty sleeper.

Eddie only knows because he wakes with his face in his BARE chest.

Yes he's been sleeping better since this started but at some point Steve's gonna have to give him an actual explanation.

How does he get out of this one? It's his trailer he can't exactly walk of shame it.

Steve's starting to wake up. He sniffles a bit and squeezes Eddie before letting go.

"Mornin." He rolls Eddie off and gets up.

"I'm going to work. Give me the key later."

....ok?!?!?! Eddie's sure he looks completely flabbergasted.

"Bye."

Eddie's watches him as he walks out.

Well...he's just gonna follow him. He needs answers. It's not like he hasn't been trying!

-----

"Ok!" He screams as he throws open the doors to family video. "I want answers!"

Robin looks at him in shock while Steve looks bored.

"What's this about?" Robin asks.

"Probably about us sleeping together." Steve says, bored.

"I'm...sorry...what's this?" Robin looks shocked.

"You know, that I've been sleeping with Eddie."

Robin whips to look at Eddie who doesn't look much better. They both are speechless, eyes wide, mouths open.

"No I do not know!"

"I'm restocking!" Steve yells as he walks past them into the back.

As soon as he's gone Robin stomps over to Eddie and punches him in the arm.

"OW!"

"What the hell doofus! You're sleeping with him? Why wouldn't you guys tell me! When was Steve even gay? I mean I know that- nevermind that's not important. You're dating!?!"

"No! I don't know!"

"How do you not know?!"

"We're not sleeping together! We're literally just sleeping in the same bed. We're...sleeping...together?"

Robin squints at him.

"You." She pushes a finger into his chest. "You better figure this out."

"Talk. To. Him." She jabs her finger into his chest between words.

----

Comment your thoughts! Comment your feelings! Comment!

I know it seems basic but I kinda had the thought of "what is Steve just took over the trailer because he needed to sleep without nightmares and then just never left"

More of this and my other oneshots coming soon!

I'll also be working on uploading everything I've ever written to my ao3 which is pinned on my profile

[sillylilyposting]

People are to willing to legitimize

Oh boy let's see what she means by legitimize

The whole point of lolcow culture is to ruin people's lives for fun.

No the plan is to extract the funny from it.

So when you come out trying to Critique target is a terrible person but - you've already given it to much legitimacy by treating it as a trustworthy source of information

You don't become immune to criticism because people don't like you

People made careers out of turning Christine Chandler's life into a real world Truman show,

Just call her Chris-chan? Also no people interacted with her videos she herself was putting online, her own website and uploads. Also how does this theory track with Yandev, Nikocado, etc who just did weird things with little to no prompting?

With her every action scrutinized and documented to a degree that serial killers subjected too.

Again she made videos consistently of herself by herself

Without that stalking, without the way people sought to push her to do something to keep the entertainment going, without people actively conspiring to drive her insane, she would not have been noteworthy enough for any of the things she done to be worth remembering.

I'll agree some of the stuff she did was prompted by other people's bullying and prompting, she still did bizarre things in her day to day without it but she still filmed and explained her odd acts and lest we forget nobody made her SA her mother! Just like nobody made Yandev be a pedophile there is no excuse of: "The meaning internet people made me!"

_

Hell, without all that, it's unlikely she would have ever done most of the shit she's done.

Provably wrong

Its only the very fascist harassment that made her actions probable or noteworthy in the first place.

So to try and condem lolcow culture, while judging the target based on information only avaliable BECAUSE of lolcow culture is completely fucking backwards. Furthermore it's how they recruit.

I can't keep restating facts... uh chrischan made video herself! So, quite literally what your trying to do here condem the culture with info avaliable because of it, this argument eats itself, christ.

Every single mother fucker who rots on kiwi farms started from the premise that "kiwi farms is terrible, but they've got it right this time about [minor e-celeb you are way too obsessed with] and their hook are in you. Because your on the site reading a thread on the person you hate, and since your there you might as well read a few more

Never used Kiwi farms myself, don't plan to, you have a plenty of stupid harmful and wrong takes regularly avaliable. You keep shifting the argument as you finish each paragraph, a goldfish would be more focused than you

And now they have their hooks in you, You're a nazi

Nazis, Hooks, Kiwis, scary stuff girl. I wasn't aware Kiwi farms acting like Frostmourne or is it more like the One Ring?

Multiple times in the past someone has come to be about someone supposedly being predatory and linked to Kiwi farms thread going "i know is awful but..."

Holy fuck this post is so long... does that mean the people who dm you are all Arthas?

_

No if it comes from Channer (channel?) trash, it is automatically a lie. They do not care about the things they pretend to care about.

Joon the king, sai, Ant, etc vague post, Journalists cover stories girlie, they can be as invested as they want personally and can push a narrative if they are inclined but the mark of a good journalist is presenting a story as unbiased as possible, I am not saying Kiwi farms writers are unbiased or journalists.

They care only about ruining the lives of trans, mentally ill and neruodivergent people for their own entertainment. Truth, Lies, it doesn't matter to them. Both are equally valid for their goals.

Lily seems to want to push the narrative that there are absolute sources of information... dangerous and vaguely authoritarian. There is such a thing as GETTING A SECOND OPINION!

If you were abused by someone and you went to Kiwi farms to give testimony: no you weren't. you're a liar, and you know you're a liar. You wouldn't be there if you weren't.

Not letting "These people who claim victim hood are 100% lying, and don't you doubt me when I tell you that" slide here

Lolcow culture should be inadmissible the court of public opinion.

Glad you added the court of public opinion, thought you were posting this as you got shoved into a cop car

So long as that continues to not be the case the harassment the stalking would only get worse.

Do stupid things win stupid prizes

And you can't buffer your criticism of it by agreeing with them.

The dumbest take she's made, its not weird that when someone accuses you of in decending order Rape, Grooming, and Incest Fetishism that agreeing to it would and SHOULD make the situation worse for the RAPIST

That POST WAS TO FUCKING LONG OH MY FUCKING GOD!

[l0serg1rls]

today i wanna talk about the big brawl.. season 6, episode 10 and the sekai taikai.. basically how eye would change some things.

this is gonna be an extremely long post .. i like to yap. clearly. so yeah.

initially, when i first watched i loved it.. but rewatching that specific scene. it’s giving lacklustre? i mean the choreography was good that’s for sure but i don’t know.. i feel like it could’ve been done so much better .. also feel like it didn’t really have to end in kwons death either.

the reason why it fell short for me and felt a bit anticlimactic was because it was just random? russian dojo came back and punched gunther in the face, everyone else started fighting.. like okay💀

the thing is there was no reason too really. (have the massive brawl breakout THAT way) a brawl is fine, but the way it was carried out isn’t. also the actual tournament way too short.

i have an idea; so gonna share it here for you all! this might be dumb but i don’t like a lot with this season 6 part 2 after initial thought. anyways here we go 😖:

start off by saying sekai taikai was too short. like a world tournament only being around 30-40 minutes. i would’ve had the episodes longer with a runtime of an hour or over an hour.

i think CK could’ve benefited from longer episodes and more episodes anyway and better writers. but i digress

each international dojo is introduced through short videos or flashbacks as the teams all join together in the arena or whatever, showcasing unique abilities and talent.

cobra kai and miyagi do both face frictions with other teams in the tournament. an aggressive and brutal dojo accuses cobra kai of being frauds who can’t live up to their intimidation tactics (blame kwon for that one, him intimidating others outside of the mat.) leads to that sort of confrontation.

miyagi-dos defense style is mocked by other dojo who sees it as way too soft. tension brews between alllll the teams. it isn’t just a cobra kai and miyagi do thing against all, all dojos have issues w each other.

several preliminary matches are shown, including standout fights featuring (sam, hawk, devon) and (tory, yoon, kwon) other cobra kai teamates deserved to be mentioned more.

tensions rise between tory and another dojos female fighter. tory isn’t balanced and dealing with the grief of her mother still. this girl from the other team is aggressive and fast. forcing tory to become the same. letting out her anger and almost gets disqualified.

johnny and daniel struggle to keep the peace between miyagi do. they’re fighting well, but not as good as they possibly could be. they’re losing a lot of matches and the team becomes completely divided. one side saying to fight aggressive; other side saying to defend

things begins to get a lil heated OUTSIDE of tournament.. rival dojos begin sabotaging each other outside the matches. a lot of street fights if you will. or just them fucking with eachother. an example: miyagi do member is ambushed completely by another dojo.

sam is targeted by a rival fighter in a dirty off the matt attack. causing noticeable, bad injuries, miguel jumps in to defend her and makes himself a target for specific dojo.

the brawl: a rival dojo manipulates tensions between miyagi do and cobra kai. possibly spreading a false rumour. like cobra kai plotting to sabotage a miyagi do fighter by injuring them with an illegal move they could disguise as not an illegal move lol.

yada, yada, yada. something happens, someone could hit someone else, the big brawl happenes!

during big brawl, tory could intervene to protect devon and takes a severe hit leaving her threatened with life changing injuries.

let’s get to kwon real quick: instead of him being an asshole and just getting killed. it’s established that kwon is one of the best fighters on the tournament. during brawl kwon gets ambushed by a jealous rival dojo or just a rival who wants to quite literally take him outta commission 😵.

kwon could also have a personality, so just not an asshole.. or not an asshole all the time , so he’s NOT a bad person and his team actually fw him.

say the ambush is so bad it triggers people from cobra kai to try and rescue him.. another way tory could get critically injured trying to protect him.

‘why tory?’ you may ask.. and why not? kwon was just introduced. it gives off more shock factor that a main character got hurt instead of him.

the impact of tory’s injury:

shock factor- tory being critically injured instead of kwon would exceed expectations.. like NO ONE could’ve seen it coming. her injury would create an emotional gut punch for characters like devon, sam, robby.

next, a full tournament arc. this would give the series time to delve into each fighting style, all the dojos. here’s how they could do it:

establish rivalries. cross-dojo friendships and betrayals .. this one could be interesting. inner team drama.

different fights during the sekai taikai:

tag team matches.

weapon kata demonstrations

survival matches

free for all battles

team relay matches

speed challenges

lastly, activities that the captains of each dojo would have to do or all the kids in the comp:

1. leadership seminar; captains are required to give speeches or participate in discussions about their dojos philosophy, training style, discipline, skills.

2. demonstration matches; captains are required to participate in matches to show their skills and set an example.

3. coaching workshop; leadership skills between the captains would be tested. captains would have to try and coach fighters from the other dojos.

as you can see if you’ve read up to this point, there’s A LOT .. i am a professional yapper. relaying back to my point. all this couldn’t fit into 5 episodes between 30-40 minutes, that’s why everything should’ve been bigger, longer.

CK doesn’t have the budget im aware so most of these are just headcannons unless someone wants to write a fic and do a whole rewrite.. which I might be up to do.. however i cant write for shit😭

uhm yeah 👌

[afniel]

84,206: didn't I tell you I had the brainworms today? I was not even in the vicinity of fucking around. I'm just gonna slap another quote in because all the writing juice is getting used for writing.

I wish you were better too. I don't know why you aren't, either, but I love you even if you never get better forever.

This is so very blatantly written by disabled fucked-up people, about disabled fucked-up people, for disabled fucked-up people, and I love that for me and also for the rest of the disabled fucked-up people.

New Thing: to keep myself from just yelling at all times what my current word count is with no further context, I'll post it and whatever is currently happening, except it'll be a spoiler-free Describe Your Story As Badly As Possible version of what's happening (and if I can't even do that, then I can shush about the word count until I can).

So, without further ado...

Sequel word count: 10,071, and Valentina is painting X's nails, because why the fuck not, GIRLS NIGHT GIRLS NIGHT GIRLS NIGHT (even if only Valentina is a girl and neither of them have a terribly strong sense of gender to begin with).

[godsfavoritescientist]

Building off of what I wrote in my fic "Sparks," I'm really compelled by the idea of Ford genuinely no longer being interested in sailing around in a boat with Stan by the time they were seniors in high school.

I like the idea of it not being just a symptom of the resentment that had been building between them, nor it being a dream of Ford's that only paled in comparison to west coast tech, but it being a genuine loss of interest on Ford's end. I think it complicates things even further in some really juicy ways.

Like, imagine going through high school slowly losing more and more interest in the dream you've shared with your twin and only friend ever since you were little kids. How do you break it to him? How do you explain it to him without making it sound like a rejection of him? Without it making him hate you?

How do you explain it without it feeling like a spit in the face to all the hard work he's put into a plan that started out as a way of him comforting you by telling you "it doesn't matter what people say about you, you're going to be an adventurer who sails away into the sunset and never has to hear their mockery ever again, and there will be babes and treasure and heroism, and then they'll all see how cool you really are!"

And all through high school you think to yourself, "he's going to move on to more realistic dreams any day now, and then I won't have to say anything about it!" But no matter how many times you mention something else he could do with his life that he seems interested in, or bring up the challenging logistics of traveling around long-term in a boat, he sounds just as committed to the childhood dream as ever, and completely oblivious to how apprehensive you sound.

So resentment grows, little by little. Because that's easier than confronting the soul-crushing levels of guilt that are building up inside of you, every time you don't take an opportunity to tell him you don't want to do the plan anymore. You don't have a single person in your life who modeled how to have difficult conversations for you. As far as you know, having this conversation with Stan would crush him into tiny little pieces and then he would hate you forever, and you can't stand the idea of losing the only friend you've ever had.

So tensions grow. A lack of interest turns into a bitter resentment that, if you were really being honest with yourself, is directed more at yourself than it is at Stan.

And then the falling-out happens, and it seems like you were proven right. Stan hates you now, and he's never going to forgive you for giving up on his dream. But two can play that game, so you try to hate him too. Because if you hate him too, then maybe it won't hurt as much that he never came back. That he never even turned up at school, or by the boat, or in through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. He knows what dad's like, and how he says impulsive exaggerated things when he's angry, and haven't you both dealt with his harsh words countless times before and been able to dust yourselves off and joke about it later? So why isn't he back at home, joking with you about how absurd your dad acted that night, being impossible and belligerent about ruining your dream, but at least now you're even, because you've ruined his dream too.

-

And now imagine you find out he risked the lives of everyone in existence to bring you back, right after you had accepted your fate was to die killing Bill. It would be terrifying and confusing and infuriating. If he cared so much, why didn't he do something to reconnect with you sooner? Why did he ignore you in favor of trying to make it big without you? Why didn't he take the infinitely safer and simpler action of reaching out to you without you having to track down his address and send a desperate plea for help? You were convinced that he didn't care enough to bother with you unless you had an important enough reason for him to come. But even then, he thought your plans were stupid. He didn't want anything to do with you, not even with the world at stake.

Did he save your life out of guilt? Does he pity you that much? It doesn't add up with what he did in the decade leading up to shoving you into the portal. And the dissonance between the version of him in your head that hates you, and the man who held out his arms to welcome you back to your home dimension, is so strong that you feel like you're being lied to again, like you're back in the depths of gaslighting and manipulation that Bill put you through, even though there's no way that's what Stan is trying to do... right? You can't figure it out, so you run away from it. You don't want to know the answer to whether or not Stan hates you, because you don't know which answer would hurt more, so you try to make him hate you more than ever, because at least then you would know for sure how he feels.

And in the end, after he sacrifices his memories for you, and for the world, things seem clearer. The layers upon layers of confusion and anger and hurt seem to have washed away like drawings in the sand, leaving behind the simple truth: that you two had an argument, and didn't move past it for forty years, and despite everything you put each other through, you both still want to re-connect.

So you sail away in a boat together.

And at first, it's wonderful. It's exactly what you want. It feels like an apology to Stan, and a thank-you for saving the world, and a once-in-a-lifetime chance to heal the rift between you two, and it's good to be back on earth, and you wonder why you ever doubted the dream you two once had.

But then, after the first long journey you spend on the sea together, when you get back home to dry land, Stan is already talking about planning your next adventure out on the open sea. He recaps every adventure you had on the first trip, over and over again, and he wants to chat with you all through the morning and long into the night, and you don't have the words to explain to yourself that you don't have enough social battery for this, and suddenly you're slipping back into the horrifyingly familiar feeling of Stan being overbearing and needing space from him and how could you think that? How could you think that about him after everything he's done for you and everything he's forgiven you for? But the longer this goes on, the more you realize that you still don't want to spend the rest of your life sailing around with Stan. It's great fun in moderation, but the idea of your whole life revolving around Stan and going on adventures with Stan and being in a boat with Stan with no time to be by yourself thinking about your own things and figuring out your own dreams makes your skin crawl with a claustrophobic kind of panic that you still don't know how to put into words forty years after the first time this feeling grabbed you by the throat and ruined your friendship with Stanley.

But the first time this happened, it nearly ruined his life forever. You can't let yourself feel this. You don't feel this. You're happy to spend the rest of your life fulfilling Stan's lifelong dream, and making up for the time you crushed his dream, and sure, maybe he crushed your dream once too, and maybe it would be nice for him to support your dreams like you're now doing for him, but you can't say that. He saved the universe, and it would be horrible and ungrateful and cruel for you to try to voice these feelings, especially when you don't know how to voice your feelings without it making other people feel like you twisted a knife into their gut. So you try to pretend the feeling isn't there.

You go out on a boat with Stan again. You planned out another incredible journey together, and this should be fun, and you should be happy about this, but the unspoken feeling you shoved as far down in yourself as it could possibly go is eating you alive. The worst part? Stan is starting to notice. You have never been good at hiding your emotions. The trick to it has always been to convince yourself you don't feel it at all, and not think about it, and that has always worked like a charm. But whenever the emotion claws its way back up to the forefront of your mind, you can tell Stan knows something is wrong. So you can't even give him the happy ending he deserves. You can't even convince him that you want to be here on the open seas forever with him, like he deserves. And you keep trying and trying to hide it, but Stan keeps asking in roundabout ways, like "You're being awfully quiet, sixer," and "whats that look on your face?" and eventually it comes exploding out of you like a shaken-up soda bottle dropped on its cap.

And then it's like you're back at home in New Jersey again, standing in the living room while dad grabs Stanley by the shirt. It all comes pouring out of you, in the worst possible way, with the worst possible phrasing, like a pandora's box of monstrousness, and Stan tries to fight back against the sting of your words, but you're made out of acid and you're burning through him and you can see it on his face, and there's never any coming back from this, not this time, you'll just have to either jump into the ocean or become a monster forever, so Stan can hate you more easily again, and-

-and at the end of the outburst, you're still on a boat in the middle of nowhere in the ocean with your brother, in dangerous waters, and you have things to do to keep the boat running smoothly.

You can't run away from him. He can't run away from you. You're stuck here for at least a couple more weeks, even if you turned around and sailed back towards shore right away.

-

And the thing that compels me so much here, despite how unbelievably angsty it all is, is that it sets up a situation wherein the Stans might end up forced to actually address the decades of resentment and confusion and wanting-to-reconnect-throughout-it-all that they thought they could gloss over and heal with enough time spent adventuring together on a boat. They might end up forced to actually address the crux of the issue that drove them apart in the first place: Ford wanting a little more space to feel like his own person, and to feel like he's able to have his own dreams, too.

It wouldn't happen easily, nor right away, but if they were stuck together on a little boat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by magical creatures they have to protect each other from in order to make it back home alive, then after they had one fight where they brought up all the things they silently agreed to never bring up again, it would probably happen many more times, and each time it would leave them both angrier at each other than ever, until eventually something honest slipped through amidst all the saying-anything-except-what-they-mean bickering. And once enough of these honest moments slipped through, then they would have a thread to tug on to start to unravel the gargantuan knot of their decades of unresolved conflicts.

And then, eventually, maybe Stan could learn that he can have a good friendship with his brother without needing to be glued to him at the hip, and Ford needing a certain amount of alone time doesn't mean he dislikes him or wants to abandon him, and Ford could learn that he can be honest and have a meaningful connection with someone without it driving them away and making them hate him.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[nomairuins]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[magentagalaxies]

vent incoming:

got my grades back for my courses last semester and most of it was to be expected, mostly A's, maybe an A-, etc. but i honestly can't get over the fact that my independent study (the buddy cole documentary) was for some reason given a B. like sure getting a B isn't bad per se, I usually get at least one B every semester and i honestly don't really care about what my exact gpa is as long as i can graduate, but come on. this school put me through months of psychological torment over this project and didn't even have the nerve to give me a B+??? i'm still coping with the self-doubt they forced on me and this bullshit is not helping!!

[waywardsalt]

probably going to rework my human bellum design again