#i think it's worth it for me to explain

[finchers-ipad]

saw fight club in the cinema…i think i died

[artzybumpkin]

I Need Your Help...

CW/ mpreg, language, slight angst (people saying harsh things to/about each other that they don’t really mean because they’re hurt and are stupid dumb idiots that are bad at communicating🥺💔)

Pt. 2

"Here we go," F0rd finally said after sifting through one of the cupboards in the small kitchen and pulling out a can. He chucked it St@n's way, the latter reflexively catching it like he'd been tossed a baseball. "I could warm it up if you'd rather, but it'll take the stove a bit to heat up."

St@nley turned the can in his fingers as he studied the label. Baron NumNums High Flyin’ Pork 'n Beans. 'Not exactly kosher, S1xer,' he almost joked aloud, but kept his mouth shut. It's not something that mattered to himself, anyway. Not anymore.

"Nah, it's fine like it is." he assured as he pulled out a pocket knife. He could practically feel the curious look his brother was giving him as he dug the blade into the lid of the can, making quick work of popping it open and eagerly dipping the spoon he'd been given into it's contents.

Though he wouldn't outright admit it... he was absolutely FAMISHED. So much so he basically shuddered in delight at the mere taste as he popped the first bite into his mouth. 'Finally, something NOT terrible for once!' he thought euphorically. It was by no means a spectacular meal, but to an empty stomach it was manna from heaven.

As he slowly came down from his dopamine high, he noticed F0rd still fumbling through the other cabinets like he had a bad case of tunnel vision. As he studied him, it was only now that St@nley got the chance to really see the scrawny and disheveled state his brother was in. How sluggish his movements were. How pale and gaunt his face was. And his hands… What was the cause for how beaten up they were?... The man looked like he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks.

‘That’s… not a good sign..,’ St@nley thought, the already existing concern amplified tenfold the longer he looked at him. He cleared his throat awkwardly in an attempt to get his attention. "Hey, uh... why dontcha sit down with me, eh? Get some food in ya? Tell me what's goin' on? I don't mean to be so frank but... You look like hell, Stanf0rd."

"Ah... later," he mused, still distracted by whatever he was searching for. In the midst of his search, his fingers grazed the forming bruise on the left side of his jaw. He opened and closed his mouth experimentally, feeling out the source of a dull yet stubborn pang in his mouth. "I think you broke one of my molars."

"… Right... yeah," St@n chuckled dryly, "uh... sorry 'bout that, by the way..."

"Besides, you're one to talk," he barked, glazing right over St@n's curt apology, "You're not exactly a sight to behold yourself, you know. AND you've currently got a stowaway to worry about." He closed the cupboard door and turned to go to the next room. "Stay here, I'll be back."

St@nley rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "Bettin' on it…" As soon as F0rd disappeared around the corner, he shot a look to the far end of the table, where the journal lay, and scowled. There were still so many questions he had yet to be answered. He just had to figure out how to get his brother to talk.

For a few minutes F0rd could faintly be heard rummaging through a few drawers, all the while muttering a short 'Now where is the damn thing?..,’ and ‘I swear it was here last time..,’ before he finally let out a mildly triumphant 'Aha!'

When he returned to the kitchen, he'd brought with him a small, worn briefcase (what was, upon setting it onto the table and flipping it open, revealed to be a decently stocked yet obviously thrown-together first aid kit). "Okay, pull up your shirt. Let me see your shoulder."

Letting out a small exasperated breath, St@n carefully (being VERY mindful of how he moved his sore shoulder) wriggled out of his jacket and pulled the back of his shirt up over his shoulders, bunching it up around his neck.

F0rd went to wash his hands, then stepped around and behind his brother to better assess the damage. He winced empathetically as he looked it over.

The burn took up the entirety of his shoulder blade, nearly touching the center of his back. It had to be at least 2nd if not 3rd degree, as the skin was already starting to tighten around the edges of the mark that was left... angry… inflamed... Even worse, though, was the unconventional shape of what was most definitely going to become a scar later.

And yet another reminder of how far they'd grown apart...

His brother had basically been branded with an alchemic sigil.

Because of him, there was now a permanent reminder of their earlier fight...

"How bad is it?" St@n's question rang, pulling F0rd from his thoughts.

"Hmm... well... it's, uh..."

"Gonna leave a mark?"

"No doubt about it." He took a moment to grab a washcloth and soaked one of it's corners in soapy water. "I'm gonna have to clean it so it doesn't get infected. It's not gonna feel great, but just-"

"Save the explanation, brainiac," St@n interrupted, mouth full from the latest spoonful of beans. "I’ve been through this song and dance before. Do what you have to, I can deal. Just hurry it up, would ya? It's cold in here."

Now it was F0rd's turn to roll his eyes. And despite himself, a slight smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. 'As brawny and bullheaded as ever, St@nley..,’ he thought amusedly as he began lightly dabbing at the wound. He’d reached the center of the mark where the burn was at its worst when the small sound of his brother hissing through his teeth made him pause. "St@n..?"

"It's fine... don't sweat it..."

Guilt ate at him, at the prospect of causing his brother any more physical pain than he had already, but he continued cleaning as gently as he could. It simply had to be done.

Once he was satisfied he'd properly disinfected the area, F0rd reached back into the kit, pulled out the bacitracin, and applied it generously to the surface of the burn before topping it off with a sterile pad. It was a very basic mend, he figured, but it would have to do. It was only as he continued working that he realized they'd suddenly fallen quiet again. And while the silence wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, there was still a level of tension that couldn’t be entirely ignored.

As he went to unroll a bundle of gauze, his eyes unintentionally bounced towards St@nley's belly. Judging by the sheer size of it, as it occupied most of the space in his lap, it was obvious he had to be nearing full term... a thought that greatly unsettled his nerves the more he lingered on it… Nevertheless, he decided to pry.

"So, um... When did you find out?"

"’Find out?’"

"About your... situation." he clumsily clarified while he wrapped the gauze around St@n’s shoulder and across his back and chest.

St@nley made a small sound of acknowledgement, drumming his fingers on the surface of the table as he carefully decided his wording. After a moment of thought, a deep sigh dragged itself from his chest. He set his now empty can down and then cradled his chin with his palm as he leaned onto the table on his elbow. "I think... about the first week of September."

“OH…” Only 4 months ago?? “Oh wow, so you were already a ways along then…”

“Yup. I'd been feeling... y’know... off for a while before that, but I just figured I’d caught some crazy flu bug or something during a, uh..,” St@n hesitated, reevaluating, “… freelance job. Was sick as shit for WEEKS. I couldn't keep anything down, didn't have the energy to even keep myself upright...” He grimaced. “God, it was awful, Ford… I swore I felt like I could’ve keeled over at the drop of a hat… And then when I finally, FINALLY thought I'd gotten past it, I started feeling... weird."

F0rd tore off a couple strips of medical tape to secure the wrapping. "Weird?..," he repeated.

"Well... it was hard to place the words at the time, but the best way I could describe it was that it kinda felt like my insides were rearranging themselves. It spooked me enough to seek out a back alley physician, anyway.”

It took everything in him for F0rd to hold his tongue at that revelation, but he stayed silent as his brother explained.

“Didn't have high hopes for an accurate diagnosis, but... Well, how hard would a basic check up be?? Worst case scenario I either got an answer or I didn’t. Not to mention he was dirt cheap. Beggars can't be choosers…” He made an ironically amused sound, “So imagine my surprise when the doc told me I was roughly 18 weeks..."

“I… imagine that news wasn’t exactly anticipated…”

St@nley shook his head lightly. "Needless to say, I called the guy a quack and left. I didn’t want to believe it at first... I couldn’t… Hell, it’s not like I even showed that much. I mean, I’ve always had some heft to my person, so a little extra gut didn’t make me question anything… But considering everything that lead up to then… it all sorta lined up... Then wouldn't ya know it, a handful of positive corner store pregnancy tests later… turned out the fucker was right."

F0rd finished checking over the bandaging before finally pulling out a chair to sit across from his brother, folding his arms over the table (atop the journal, St@nley noted, still somewhat guarded in manner). His eyes, though exhausted and bothered, remained inquisitive. “So, then… that sensation you were talking about?.. Was that..?”

"Oh… yeah,” St@n lightly chuckled, giving the side of his belly a gentle pat, “that was just junior here figuring out they have legs… and they have NOT let me forget it, either." The small smile on his face faltered. "But, uh... yeah… I've been trying to keep track of the weeks ever since..."

F0rd hummed his acknowledgement, nodding lightly as he processed the information he'd just been given. Then another question, though it was more of an observation in the form of a question. "You've been going about this alone, haven’t you?…"

St@nley lulled his head to the side, his tired expression wordlessly yet clearly asking, 'What's it look like, genius?..’

He pointedly left it at that. Then F0rd’s face fell as another revelation came to mind. "Wait.... You've not been to a doctor SINCE?? It's January, St@nley! That means..." He paused, brows furrowing as he only now took the time to do the math. "Oh my God, you're-"

“‘About to pop,’" St@n finished as he pulled his shirt back down over his torso (a task easier said than done). "Yes, I'm WELL aware of that notion, poindexter. Glad we’re clear on that."

“But what if something happened? What if something went wrong?? You could’ve been seriously hurt, you knucklehead!” F0rd scolded, gesturing vaguely in his brother’s direction. “Or WORSE!!”

"Don’t you think I KNOW that??!" St@n sighed, trying to reign in the sudden burst of frustration. "Look, I... I've not exactly had the luxury of having prenatal care at my disposal, alright?.. I went to a friggin' doc in a box ONE other time for anemia and it took about every penny I had to my name. Believe me, had the option been available to me, I would've made a point to go in a heartbeat… but if I expected to make ends meet on a day to day basis..,” he hung his head lower, eyeing the floor, “… there was just no way..."

F0rd let out a tense breath. "I'm just saying... It's not a good idea to let a pregnancy go unchecked for so long. And then coming all the way out here was dangerous... Who knows who or what you could've run into on the way??"

"Eh... it's arguably safer than where I was before... In fact, if I'm being completely honest, this trip might've just saved my life..." he admitted, his free hand absentmindedly cradling the underside of his belly, "or at least bought me some time..."

"What's that supposed to mean??"

St@n debated over whether or not he should open that can of worms... so he decided he'd keep it brief. "Let's just say I was half expecting to get my head caved in any day now, had I decided to stick around Dead End..." He cast a glance that suggested the subject be dropped.

F0rd's eyes briefly widened in unease. He then pressed them shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Dear God, St@nley..," he sighed. He didn’t even have it in him right then to ask for any further elaboration.

The room was quiet during their intermission, as they gave themselves time to debrief.

Then, allowing himself an intentionally long, drawn out breath, St@nley leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Alright, your turn."

"Hm?" F0rd looked back up warily.

"I gave you my sob story, let's hear yours!"

"'Sob story?'” his tone took an air of offense to it, “I’ll have you know this is a very serious matter!"

“So I've heard…”

F0rd scowled at the blatant sarcasm. “I mean it, St@nley! This is something so much bigger than you or I! It could mean the end of effectively everything as we know it!”

"Okay then, ENLIGHTEN me! It's what I've been trying to get you to do this whole friggin’ time! Just tell me what’s going on, without all the cryptic bullshit! Why did you need me to come here just to send me away again, Stanf0rd?" He quickly reached for and snatched the journal out from under his brother's arms, waving it carelessly in front of him. "And what's so damn important about this book that you need it gone but not destroyed?? If it's SO dangerous, why not just shred the thing??" He punctuated his short tangent by dropping the leatherback loudly in the center of the table, the booming sound making his brother flinch.

"I already told you!" F0rd said as he picked it back up with both hands, "The information recorded in these journals is much too valuable to destroy. However, to ensure it stays out of the wrong hands, it must be taken away from here... it could be disastrous if that happens... And the only other person that I could have entrusted to take it flat out refuses to speak to me!..," his gaze landed on the journal he held, his reflection stared back from the emblem in the center. "... You were my last resort... The last hope I have of ever fixing the mess I've caused..." He looked back up to his brother. "And that's why it's of the utmost importance to take this thing FAR away from here as SOON as humanly possible!"

"Mm-hm..." St@n ran his hands along the length of his face. “Yeah, see, I just don’t understand what good squirreling this thing away in some hole on the other side of the planet is gonna do. 'Bury it where no one can find it??' I could just chuck this thing over a mountainside in the Rockies and it'd be dealt with!" He readjusted himself in his seat, straightening up. "But more importantly, what I'd like to know is who these 'wrong hands' are referring to. The mob? The government?? Are you saying someone's got a hit on you??"

Stanf0rd groaned, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "You don't get it, St@nley..."

‘When do I ever?..,’ he thought bitterly, his patience growing ever thinner the longer he prodded. He swore he could get more answers out of a goddamn brick wall.

"It HAS to be taken far enough away that it can't be stumbled upon by just any passersby. And if I were to go hide it myself, I'd be wasting valuable time that I need to prepare for what's coming! I have to make it out to the ruins before the snowfall covers the only entrance to the caves! And if I don't go IMMEDIATELY, there might not be another chance to do anything before..,” might as well not beat around the bush any longer, “he brings forth complete and utter chaos!"

At that, there was a beat… then St@nley made a tired noise, rubbing his temples. “Okay… alright… cool…” His head was beginning to hurt now. "Juuuust leave it to ol' S1xer to make the explanation confusing-"

“Do NOT call me by that name!!” came a sudden, visceral interjection, making St@n nearly jump out of his skin.

All the energy in the room came to a screeching halt.

Breathing heavily for a minute, and seeing the startled confusion etched into his brother’s face, F0rd realized he'd lashed out and visibly shrunk in his seat. "I... sorry, it's not... that wasn’t… y-you didn't know, I... Gosh, I'm sorry..." he babbled, avoiding eye contact, "I don't know what came over me..." The shame he felt was unbearable… To think he let himself get so worked up over something so silly as a nickname… all because of-…

It was only when the sound of his brother gently rapping on the table, to get his attention, registered that he dared look back up to face him.

As he leaned forward on the table, arms folded tightly underneath him, St@nley's demeanor had shifted… no trace of sarcasm left to be seen. "Who did this to you, F0rd?..." There was an intensity in his voice that was equal parts steadying and intimidating, his eyes meeting his brother's and locking. Though it obviously wasn't directed at himself, F0rd could swear there was a murderous glint in that gaze... “Who's threatening you?... Who scared you so badly that you're taking these drastic measures??..."

"I..." F0rd suddenly felt so transparent, like he was being read like a book… Somehow St@nley had managed to just about hit the nail on the head… He covered his face, beginning to feel overwhelmed. There was so much he wanted to explain in full... but could he without endangering either his brother or himself?? Or rather, could he explain himself without sounding like a total madman??

“Who used that name and tarnished it, Stanf0rd??…”

“I-I..,” he stuttered, breaking, "I can't... Th-There's simply no way for me to explain everything for you to understand!"

"Then HELP me to understand!” St@nley pleaded, at his wits’ end. It hurt him so badly to see his brother so utterly tormented with no way for him to get through to or comfort him. He HAD to get through to him… somehow! “HELP me! I’m really, really, REALLY tryin’ here, F0rd, but you're not giving me anything to work off of! I sound like a fucking broken record saying this shit! I care about you, you dumbass, I’m your BROTHER! So you can't keep leaving me in the dark! You have to trust me! Please just trust me, Stanf0rd!"

Trust me...

Those two little words that he’d heard time and time again… those two words that, to him, had lost every ounce of sincerity due to the sheer amount they’d been used and squandered by so very many people in his life… Hearing those two words suddenly agitated F0rd to no end.

He looked his brother in the face and scoffed, "OH, no! NO!! YOU, of all people, don't get to go preaching to ME about TRUST, Mr. 'Buy my products, they won't do you wrong! I'm just your humble, neighborhood salesman who ISN’T a shyster whatsoever! Did I tell you to buy my products yet??’”

The deer-in-the-headlights look St@n gave him only managed to light a fire under him as he desperately took the chance to redirect the attention away from himself.

"Yeah, that’s right, St@nley! Or should I refer to you by one of your ridiculous aliases like 'P@nley St1ne's??' … 'P@NLEY,' St@nley?! You couldn't come up with anything better than that?!" He shook his head, getting sidetracked, "My point is, I've seen what you've been up to over the years! In fact there's been no way to avoid seeing it! I've seen the ads in the papers! The commercials! The... 'products,' if you could even call them that! I've SEEN how you've scammed people! How you’ve LIED to people! Hell, if I didn't just see your bare belly l'd have half a mind to assume you stuffed a damn pillow up your shirt in a shoddy attempt to fool me!"

St@nley stared at him in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. The rest of what his brother said hurt well enough, but that last part?? "What in the-... Where on EARTH did you get that idea, Stanf0rd?? Do you you realize how completely DEMEANING that accusation is?? What could I possibly hope to gain?? Faking THIS??" he exclaimed, aggressively gesturing to himself with his hands bracketing his burgeoning middle.

"I don't know, SYMPATHY?? Some twisted method of MANIPULATION?? Seems like something a con-man such as yourself wouldn't think twice about exploiting!"

St@n reeled back as though he'd been struck. That one got him. "... Is that really what you think of me??..,” came an uncharacteristically quiet tone, "Do you really think I'd try and pull a fast one on you in your time of need??..."

As much as he hated himself for it, as much as F0rd KNEW he shouldn’t say it, the instinctive desire to get the last word in overruled whatever rational response he should have spouted… and a venomous response slipped out before he could stop himself. “... Frankly, I wouldn't put it past you..."

St@nley stared down at the floor for several moments, processing everything that had just been laid out before him. To think his own brother thought so little of him... Sure, what he'd said was vaguely in line with the truth, regarding his grifting record. Conning strangers for his own benefit was one thing, albeit not a great thing and certainly not something he was proud of, but it was something he simply had to resort to to make ANY kind of basic living… To trick his family though?... his own BROTHER?? To suggest he'd even go so far as to fake a pregnancy of all things just to tug at his heartstrings... that was a low even he didn't think he could bring himself to sink to.

In that moment, it was made clear to him; After everything he suffered for, everything he tried in vain to atone for, and after over a DECADE of radio silence... his brother still held to that idea that he was this selfish, deceitful, untrustworthy monster...

The regret was immediate as soon as the words left Stanf0rd’s lips. Why’d he have to go and say that? With stakes as high as they were, for more reasons than one, stirring the pot was the last thing he needed to do and yet… "I... St@nley, I... I-I didn't mean-…"

After a minute of brooding, St@n scooped his jacket off the floor, snaking his arms back through it's sleeves as he finally stood up from his chair. "Y'know what? That's it. I don’t care anymore. I'm done."

“'Done??' What do you mean 'DONE??'” His eyes keenly followed him as he passed by. "St@nley, where are you going?"

"What’s it to you? It’s not like you actually wanted me here. After all, I was your last resort, right?” his voice was monotone as he made his way to the front door… empty… hurt… “As always, Stanf0rd Filbr1ck P1nes, you were right. I shouldn’t ‘ve come… I shouldn’t ‘ve bothered…”

Stanf0rd immediately got up and grasped the fabric of St@n’s sleeve, holding him in place. “Now hang on a minute, would you please just listen to me for a second??”

Try as he had to keep the rage bottled up, that was the last straw. “Yeah, sure... Or how 'bout this?” Smacking the hand off his jacket sleeve, St@nley turned on his heel, scornfully wagging his pointer finger in his brother's face, prompting the latter to back up a step. “You listen here, and you listen GOOD, smartass! I don't need you lecturing me, REMINDING me of how shitty a person I am! I KNOW I'M A SCREW UP, STANF0RD! I KNOW that!! Preaching to the freakin' choir on that front!" He looked down at himself and laughed a humorless laugh. "I mean hell, just LOOK at me! I'm knocked up with some bastard-not-worth-the-air-he-breathes' bastard! All with no place to call home! That's fuck up incarnate, amirite??"

F0rd began to respond but was abruptly cut off.

“And here’s another thing you were right about; the WHOLE-ASS drive up here and how much it absolutely SUCKED! Over thirteen-fucking-HUNDRED miles on the road is no place to be when you’re essentially a walking, talking time bomb! The whole drive, the whole drive, I've had this crippling, nagging fear at the back of my brain telling me I’d likely end up hopelessly lost! Or, better YET, reminding me of the possibility that I’d might have to pull over at some point and spit this kid out on the side of the road without any help! Do you know how terrifying that thought was, F0rd?? When you’re trying to navigate those insanely long back roads nobody knows about, all on your own?? And all for the sake of showing up when your brother asked for you to, because you foolishly thought he actually NEEDED you?? OF COURSE YOU DON’T!! Cuz that WASN'T you, that wasn't YOUR problem, and thus it doesn’t MATTER!! The world revolves around YOU, and anyone else's issues can go ahead and take a back seat for all you care, isn’t that right??"

“St@nley, stop it! You’re becoming hysterical!” F0rd attempted to reason, wanting desperately to diffuse the situation… Needless to say, it was fruitless…

“NO!! Because you wanna know what else?? NEWSFLASH, brother, YOU'RE not perfect either! You act like you're ‘God's gift to the populace’ or something when you're NOT! It's not like you ever bothered to help ME out when I needed somebody! I’ve only ever had myself for the better part of 10 years, so it would’ve been nice for you to, I dunno, check in once or twice! Or at least a throw out some bullshit 'Hey, bro! Hope you're alive and doing alright! I can't talk or meet with you right now, and frankly I probably don't WANT to, but I hope you know l've not forgotten about you and that somewhere deep down I still love you! Take care, St@nley!' for some semblance of caring! Just SOMETHING!! Some acknowledgment that I EXIST!! That-That I’m not just a-a-a STAIN left behind!! So WHY?? Why did I care?? Why did I think-..?!" He froze when his voice suddenly cracked, cutting him off before he could continue.

Now noticing how hazy his vision had become, how shaky his hands were, he was horrified to realize that he'd burst into tears partway through his rant. All the repressed emotions were starting to show face... 'Humiliated' couldn't even BEGIN to cover how he felt right then... And when he finally studied the expression F0rd currently wore, he felt like he might vomit.

That all too familiar look of pure, unadulterated… pity… The physical embodiment of ‘Oh you poor, pathetic thing...’

St@nley DESPISED that look… It’d been one he’d received countless, countless times in his life. And while he knew that more often than not the intent behind that expression was never truly out of ill meaning, the immense degradation it brought him was suffocating. He couldn’t bear to see it another second… especially coming from his own flesh and blood. He squeezed his eyes shut to escape it.

F0rd, meanwhile, was at a complete loss for words. What could he say? What should he say?? How could he explain the sheer magnitude of what’s been going on that didn’t sound like the utter ramblings of a man who’s lost his mind?? How could he convince St@nley to put aside their personal issues for a second and help aid him in fixing this mess?? Important things needed attending to!! This was a matter of the fate of the WORLD, dammit!! The livelihood of effectively EVERYONE!!

But then… his brother’s points made him reflect… What of his brother’s woes?… St@nley’s woes??... The woes of the person who, at one point in time, meant MORE to him than the world itself??… Did they not matter in the grander scheme?? The hardships St@nley had gone through completely alone, left unbeknownst to him just because he… couldn't bring himself to reach out and see how his brother was actually doing?.. Simply because he couldn't bear the thought of truly knowing how rough he had it in life while they were apart?..

Assuming St@nley was just wandering aimlessly around all this time, without a care or ounce of respect for anyone in the world, made ignoring those painful thoughts so much easier... Knowing what he did now, he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

For so long, Stanf0rd had spent every waking hour pouring over his research, dragging himself along through countless sleepless nights, pushing anyone and everyone away... out of his mind... out of his heart... all to combat an omniscient evil he still frustratingly… didn’t quite understand yet, himself... His work had completely and utterly consumed him. He’d lost sight of what few allies he had… He'd lost sight of his family… And loathe as he was to admit it, perhaps in this mission to ‘save humanity,’ he actually lost sight of his own…

As he concluded his thought, one thing was made painfully clear… Somehow, one way or another, both his brother and himself had each come to face some form of isolation…

They really were two sides of the same coin...

Taking a moment to steel himself again, St@n pressed the heel of his hand against one eye and then the other, wiping away the tears that managed to run down his cheeks. "I should've known better than to think I could ever be of any help to you... of any value to you... So I’ll do you the courtesy of getting the hell outta your hair. For good this time.”

“St@nley…”

“Can it!” St@nley swiftly snatched the duffle bag off the floor and turned to grab the doorknob, then called out over his shoulder. "Oh yeah, one last thing! Thank you EVER so much for the new 'tattoo!' What better souvenir to remember your estranged brother by than one that's been burned directly into your skin, eh? Your hospitality is truly unmatched, Stanf0rd. TRULY." He re-zipped his jacket and yanked the door open. "See ya never, fuck head," he spat before he slammed the door behind him.

"Hey! HEY!! St@nley, WAIT!!" F0rd followed close behind, storming his way to the door and ripping it back open about as quickly as it was shut. "Damnit St@nley, would you just hold on a second and hear me out-AH!.," he gasped, flinching when he'd almost ran into his brother from behind.

St@n had stopped short on the porch, motionless.

Huffing, he sternly maneuvered around to the right of his brother to face him from the side. “Please, think rationally! You know as well as I do that you have no business running around in the condition you’re in! Look, I get that you’re upset, alright?? I’m sorry! I really am! But you can’t just skip off and..,” he trailed off when he realized St@n was staring straight ahead over the front yard, the look on his face unreadable. He tentatively followed the trajectory of his line of sight, only to freeze in place himself. “… leave…”

Their wide eyed expressions mirrored each other’s, standing parallel as they both gazed at the sight before them.

Snow had piled up by several feet. MUCH higher than it had been earlier . Within just a few hours it had gone from knee height to probably high enough to halfway submerge a person. In the distance, only the rough shape of El Diablo was visible, having a thick cocoon of snow encompassing the body of the vehicle.

And the snow just KEPT coming.

There was no getting out in that…

St@n groaned defeatedly, burying his face in his hands. “Whatever higher power has it out for me can kindly kiss my ass…”

TBC

[itwoodbeprefect]

the great thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things. the terrible thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things

[fairuzfan]

hi! i have a question and sorry if youve answered it before, we know what the tumblr search function is like. what IS hamas' ideology? asking as someone who is 100% pro palestine. im afraid to look it up bc i bet its 99% misinformation, but its also something im not too well aware of and i hold a role in my community where i have to educate people on things like this quite often, and its hard to correct people on false propaganda when i dont exactly know what the actual situation is like. thanks for taking the energy to answer questions! you do a lot of good

hello, thanks for sending this in. i'm not super comfortable talking about this on my blog for a variety of reasons, but i'd suggest reading Tariq Baconi's work on Hamas to learn more about how they came together and what they believe in. there's also the hamas charter that was published a few years ago on middle east eye (the updated one from 2017, I'm not going to link it but just look it up on google).

I also like looking through Al-Shabaka.org for just some other analysis of Palestinian policy and politics in general.

Hamas Contained: The Rise and Pacification of Palestinian Resistance by Tariq Baconi

Al-Shabaka

[moongothic]

(Frankenstein'd two asks together for the sake of previty)

I've been pretty torn between answering this ask and just doing a deep dive re-analysis post about Marineford as a whole (from Crocodile's perspective) because I feel like rereading it now as a Crocodad Truther, I could probably make a whole lot of new observations and/or read into things differently than I did last time I read it (when I was rereading for the purpose of studying the viability of Crocodad) Like there's so much to say about the whole arc and I'd include this line of thought in there anyways... But also, do I really feel like writing a giant essay like that........

I am going to start this by refering to this mini-essay I wrote like a month ago, about how Crocodile seems to have this attitude of "no crying over spilt milk". What's happened has happened, what's done is done, it's your own fault things turned out the way they did, there's no undoing any of it and you just have to continue on. And I do think that attitude would be key here to understanding Crocodile's actions in Marineford re:Crocodad

(Sidenote because this is not relevant to the rest of the post, but the reason this is about Crocodad and not CrocoUncle etc is because if Crocodile was only loosely related to Luffy it would not have the same kind of impact emotionally (for Crocodile; like there is a difference between a nephew and a son). Additionally a part of Crocodad is that it ties into Crocodile's connection with Ivankov in a really important way. If Crocodile was only loosely related to Luffy, him also being trans would kind of be like a random sidenote without being relevant to the two being family, but suddenly if Crocodile is Luffy's other biological parent, him being trans matters a lot more. Also if he's not Luffy's other dad then we'd be still stuck asking who the fuck birthed Luffy to begin with)

While Sengoku's announcement here would make for a horrific revelation to Crocodile in this situation (a revelation we never see his immidiate reaction to, which continues to be deeply sus), what would it change, really?

The little idiot child who Crocodile had attempted to murder multiple times was his own son. Sure, he might've insantly lost whatever grudge he might've held against Luffy, then what? That feeling would be one-sided, because at this point in the story Luffy hated Crocodile's guts and he knew that too. Luffy has no idea about them being related, and even if Crocodile literally walked up the kid right that second and told him the truth, what would it change? He'd still be the man who nearly nuked a million people off the face of the earth, took over a country and killed Luffy and his friends while laughing about it. Being Luffy's other dad wouldn't make him any less of a horrible asshole (if anything it might make it slightly worse 'cause you get to add shit like "child abandonment" onto his list of crimes).

Luffy came to Marineford to save Ace. Crocodile came to Marineford to kill Whitebeard. He had no reason to interfere with Luffy's quest, and with the help Luffy already was recieving from the prison escapees, the Newkama and the Whitebeard Pirates, what would Crocodile's assistance add to the mix? Would Luffy even welcome him in helping save his brother?

Luffy had his own life, a life Crocodile had not been a part of. He had no right to try to insert himself into it at this point, after all he had done to Luffy. There's no crying over spilled milk. What's done is done, you just have to move on. He should just focus on what he came to do; get his revenge and take Whitebeard's head, as planned.

Deep breaths

...Only to realize that Whitebeard is a dying old man and not worth even killing anymore, because he's not the same Primebeard whom once beat Crocodile and crushed all his dreams. Defeating Whitebeard would not give him the catharsis he came for.

And at that point, the fuck was Crocodile going to do? The revenge he wants isn't there anymore 'cause it went bad a few decades ago. And between the raging war and Doflamingo on his ass it's not like he could just sneak out without anybody noticing. He doesn't have allies (aside from Daz under him) to worry about. He only has his hatred to the World Government.

At that point, he might as well be a nuisance to the Government and assist Luffy. Even if the help wasn't welcomed, even if Luffy hated him and regardless if he knew the truth or not, helping Luffy right then and there would still be better than letting the Government have their way and kill his son right in front of him

[girlyaois]

I honest to God think a lot of the moral fears surrounding whether you think about your f/os enough or if you comfort your f/os enough in your mind or if YOU do enough FOR your f/os can... really and truly be answered simply by being reminded that they aren't real. you do not morally owe any of your f/os your time, effort, or emotional availability. because they aren't real, and you are. and it's OKAY to say this. it will never be immoral to acknowledge we daydream and draw fanart for ourselves and our joy because we're real people, they're not, they don't need anything from you. don't exert yourself worrying about people who don't exist.

[giddlygoat]

hater has disturbing reoccurring dreams about wander crawling inside his ribcage that always have him waking up in a cold sweat [they just feel too real and hater can’t place why]. wander has reoccurring dreams of hater ceremoniously destroying him with the Disaster Blaster and it’s the one dream he doesn’t eagerly blab to sylvia about because he doesn’t know how to tell her that it never feels like a nightmare. soooo is anyone else sick in the head or is it just me

[kaurwreck]

I'm sincere when I say I don't know how y'all have the energy to scrutinize Mori treating his successors like they're competent when the Port Mafia's skill users have been culled thrice over within seven years by men who can't act right (Rimbaud, Verlaine, Shibusawa, Gides, Fyodor), and the longevity of the tripartite framework relies on Mori not patronizing who's left.

Especially considering, like, there are foreign military police in modern Japan, British Somaliland appears to still exist, and Ango has seemingly kept Taneda in a medically induced coma for an irreversible amount of time so that he can unilaterally leverage Taneda's fictional authority within a very-historically-real cabinet in the Japanese government that hasn't existed irl since the Meiji constitution.

Like, I'm not asking anyone to engage with media in any other way than the way they enjoy most. It's just. Has anyone else noticed bsd!Russia appears to have annexed bsd!Abkhazia and bsd!South Ossetia.

All of this to say: you don't really have to beat the same dead horses if you don't want to. If you do, then by all means, lay into Equus with your whole chest. But, also. There's a lot in bsd the fandom scarcely, if at all, touches, and the incongruity between the work's layers and worldbuilding and even niche fandom engagement with the material is stark.

[finelythreadedsky]

 On one level the book is about the life of a woman who is hardly more than a token in a great epic poem, on another it’s about how history and context shape how we are seen, and the brief moment there is to act between the inescapable past and the unknowable future. Perhaps to write Lavinia Le Guin had to live long enough to see her own early books read in a different context from the one where they were written, and to think about what that means.

-Jo Walton

[nostalgia-tblr]

I feel like anyone who's about to embark on attempting to type out a character's accent phoentically (at least as well as one can with English) should probably stop for a moment before they get going and ask themselves, "How would I, myself, feel about a fic where the one character who sounds like me had their speech written out like this and every other character just got their dialogue left in standard spelling?" I feel like a lot of people would tone it down a bit, at least, if they'd done that thought experiment first.

(Anyone who answered "but I don't have an accent!" isn't allowed to write out anyone else's accent, ever. This rule may seem harsh but you need it. Really, you do. Because you've never had anyone treat your accent as abnormal or comical or wrong, so you really don't know what you're inflicting on others here.)

[swiftfootedachilles]

im just gonna be honest gang obviously its gonna be easy for you to say youre in love with a character and theyre an angel when anytime they do something you don't like you brush it off as out of character

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

You know, the advisor romances are very sweet and all, but it's still not the same, for me, as romancing a companion that you take with you everywhere. Be it for the pure romance of having your lover fight by your side and having each other's backs, which I'm a massive sucker for, or for the fact that they get more screen time, party banter, and you just get to see and hear them more, and also get to know them better, or for the fact that when something happens to you, they are there with you and for you and they may also freak out deliciously.

This post is sponsored by Blackwall fussing over my Inquisitor every time her freak hand acts out, or she gets hit with weird magic, or sometimes for no reason at all, checking on her after combat.

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[lettersregardingjeeves]

Jeeves Takes Charge - The Unused Images

Halloa! Well, the whole first story is out, with all its good fun and illustrations from the Strand. So I figured I ought to show you the illustrations I chose not to use, and - for those interested in my inane commentary - tell you the reason why! They're from the American edition published in the Saturday Evening Post, drawn by Henry Raleigh. Let's have a look!

https://www.madameulalie.org/sep/Jeeves_Takes_Charge.html (need image descriptions)

Now, here's where we get to why I didn't include them. The style is certainly lovely, and the Florence depicted here certainly has a nice enough profile to fit the bill. But is that man on the right meant to be Bertie?? He's much too old! The story, which takes place six years in the past from Bertie's telling of it, says that Bertie had been ratted out by Edwin, Florence's little brother, for smoking Lord Worplesdon's "special cigars" when he was fifteen, and that the event had taken place nine years after that incident of tattling. As such, though most characters are not given canonical ages in the Jeeves series, in "Jeeves Takes Charge" Bertie is provably 24 years old (and thus 30 years old when jotting down his telling of it). And while certainly people aged more quickly in the past, I have trouble imagining a 24 year old would look quite so old as this!

The dog is excellent, however. As far as I can tell, there is absolutely no suggestion of a dog even existing in this story. Mr. Raleigh clearly just wanted to draw a really long dog, and by God I do not fault him for it.

Bertie, that knight is not hiding you at all whatsoever.

I actually prefer this Edwin to the Strand version, however. What a jaunty lad.

And I will say, I adore this Jeeves. Look at his nose! His calm, self-satisfied expression! Honestly both illustrators did such a fun job with their respective Jeeveses in this final scene.

Anyway, that's all! Thanks for listening!

[todayisafridaynight]

Share Mine notes please I beg (and on the arakawa fam if you have the timefkfd)

forgive me if these are messy as all fuck i'm not good at making notes BUT here's everything i generally keep in mind when drawing mine and hijikata + the reference sheets i look at when drawing them :)

arakawa family notes + references below:

(more notes about aoki + sawashiro's faces ft. ikumi here)

[graceful-not]

Yk what actually. I'm sick of staying quiet Conya is a perfectly fine ship. I don't understand why people dislike it so much. In early Ninjago? Sure, back then it wasn't the greatest dynamic and didn't really have much in terms of actually substantive interactions. But people are still casually hating on it and putting it on DNI lists right next to ships like Greenflame like they're comparable and I'm sickkkk of it it's been YEARS!! Their dynamic has grown so much since then!!!! They're on the same level as Braincell for me in terms of ships I really like I think they have a great and interesting dynamic!!!! They're cute together!!!!!! EVEN OUTSIDE OF MUDSHOCK!!!!! RAGHH!!!!!!!!!