We Could Do Everything Right, And They'd Still Think We Were Dangerous

nathaniel, neil, nathaniel, neil. andrew flips the two names around in his head like tossing a coin. heads or tails, the coin always comes up abram. nathaniel and neil are two sides of the same coin; forged in a dark basement, in musty hotel rooms, on the exy court. both hate sweets, love to run, to talk back any chance they get.

some days, the coin lands on nathaniel. jack makes one too many comments at practice and neil - no, nathaniel - has him on the ground, raquet to his neck in an instant. he can't hear what the strikers are saying but through the grate of the helment, andrew sees nathaniel's smile.

others, it lands on neil. andrew finds neil and matt splayed out on the couch, three movies deep into a "pop culture lesson". neil motions for andrew to sit and absently cards his fingers through the blond's hair. matt hides his grin in his sleeve.

but abram; he runs to andrew after each winning game to tap sticks, he sits each friday in columbia, talking about escape routes for an alien invasion, he keeps ice cream in the freezer and cigarettes in his backpocket.

heads or tails, doe or minyard, doe or minyard.

doe was made and unmade in california. 13 homes, 13 film reels constantly playing in the back of his mind, each scene driving the cuts deeper and deeper. andrew doe learns the danger of wanting and vows to keep everyone out.

minyard went to juvie for his brother. he crashed the car to keep him safe. he spent years on medication that sent him up up up to protect his cousin. minyard guards himself with knives sharper than his glare; he protects those that are his and fuck anyone else.

heads or tails, the coin starts to come up drew.

it starts small; quick grins in columbia at neil; shared dinners with aaron that don't end in a fight; something like excitment in his stomach before an exy game. when neil is hanging out with the upperclassman, he stays.

heads or tails; the coin lands on growth

I think Andrew's desperation to live is a little overlooked in the fandom. It's not explicitly stated in the books, other than his SH scars, but I honestly think it is so important to understanding him and his motivations.

Did Andrew ever plan to live past graduation? Before Kevin came along and promised his life would have worth? Did he plan on disappearing when Aaron eventually walked away from him? Believing nobody would notice if he was gone?

He clung on purely for Aaron, to make sure Aaron had a bright future ahead and could go live without him. To make sure that Nicky could go back to Erik without worry.

Before Neil, Andrew didn't believe he had anything to live for. He made a very one sided deal with Kevin to find something, anything, to build his life around after graduation, believing his brother would leave him alone once again.

Because at the heart of it all, Andrew doesn't want to die. Not really.

Andrew has chronic depression and he is suicidal. He sits on the edges of roof tops to feel. He puts his life on the line again and again with little regard for his own safety. He makes promises that put him at a severe disadvantage.

His promises are what keeps him alive, what forces him to live. Dying would break his promise, and Andrew has suffered enough from broken promises.

He doesn't want to die. He wants to survive those who beat him down. He wants to move on. He wants to get better. He wants to live.

He just doesn't know how.

Thinking so hard about Logan's faith

He really is a man that has lost everything. EVERYTHING. In every timeline, in every universe. So much loss and betrayal and pain.

This "worst" wolverine has absolutely nothing. No friends, no family, no xmen.

And yet he doesn't think life is unfair. TO HIM. He thinks life has been unfair to all the good and innocent people around him, but not to him. Because unlike him, those people deserved a good, long life that he's been cursed with.

And yet he's not a hopeless man, not really. Because after losing everything, it just takes Deadpool and Laura (two people he didn't previously know!!) to remind him that goodness exists. That purpose is something that he can still have, if he wants it.

And Logan believes. He believes so hard in them because, deep down, something in him knows that humanity is not only worth fighting for, but also that he wants to fight for it.

Deep down, despite everything, he wants be good (which he is, he just doesn't see it)

You know what else drives me crazy about The Naked Time? This exchange:

It isn't just because of Spock saying, "Jim, when I feel friendship for you, I am ashamed" or "Understand, Jim. I've spent a whole lifetime learning to hide my feelings." Although, that absolutely is part of it, the fact that Spock is locked into his regret over not telling his mother he loved her and his shame at realizing that, despite all his work to adhere to Vulcan principles, he still feels love. It's that gap between duty versus desire, between expectations versus wants, and what remains in spite of the pressure. (I realize his words parallel a love confession in any other context, between any heterosexual couple, and that fandom looks to his shame as a confirmation of internalized homophobia, but the biggest issue for Spock is that love, sorrow, shame--all powerful emotions--still exist for him. He is not a Vulcan if he feels these emotions and gives into them. He is only a half-Vulcan and half-Human, caught between worlds and the judgments and expectations of two very different societies.)

It's because Kirk changes his phrasing of "We've got to risk a full-power start!" to, "We've got to risk implosion!" Implosion, like many words, holds multiple meanings. The intended meaning is "a violent collapsing inwards," the opposite of explosion. But implosion can mean integration, a coming together towards a single center point. We've got to risk coming together. We've got to risk integration. And Spock responds, "It's never been done." They repeat these lines twice. Repetition is a device to call attention in writing. Why have Kirk say they have to risk a full-power start twice before only to change it to implosion and repeat it twice? The two phrases mean something different, but it's important enough to bear repeating. (One could argue it is sloppy writing, or perhaps a case of actors failing to remember their lines, but what are the odds it was either of those, especially with someone as thoughtful as Leonard Nimoy. Either a writer is a professional who understands the power of words, or everything is somehow coincidental, holds no actual meaning, and writers don't think carefully about word choice and meaning, especially in an era where nuance can make or break a story on the screen.)

In the 1960s, during the time of the Hays Code, of course, two men couldn't be together as a couple on TV or in film, not even in space, in a time set centuries beyond our present. But damn if the dialogue can not hint at it, dance around it in plain sight. Again, Kirk and Spock's relationship must exist in the margins, between the lines, encased in nuance and multiple meanings, because to use explicitly clear phrasing would mean it all gets cut.

Hence, this bit of dialogue. The slaps become Spock catching Kirk's hand and holding it steady--direct sustained contact, a coming together, implosion. Spock is torn between regret and shame and love, while Kirk shouts about the ship being destroyed and ending the lives of the crew, their shared duty to the ship. The dialogue is Spock's turmoil writ large--do what must be done, accept two separate halves becoming a whole (is it Spock's two halves or Kirk and Spock? I'll leave that up to you), or remain apart and give into despair. But Kirk tells him their only chance is to risk implosion, to come together, and they have to take that chance.

I will never be over Andrew's "You are a pipe dream" because it's so beautifully tragic.

Imagine you're Andrew and one day this suspicious guy who can't hold his tongue shows up. And nothing about him makes sense, but what makes the least sense is the fact that he treats Andrew like he matters.

He treats Andrew, a guy who everyone, including his family, sees as a monster, like he isn't one. Like he deserves to be understood and taken care of.

And the fact is so unbelievable to Andrew that he could only explain it as some elaborate hallucination caused by his happy pills. Neil was just too wonderful to be real. Good things like that just don't happen to Andrew.

when i read the song of achilles i was very surprised at how genuine and equally matched their love for each other was. there wasn’t any such thing as one being more in love than the other. i’ve become so accustomed to that trope, that i kept waiting for it to happen; but it never did. i’m so used to love being a miserable, painful, unrequited thing, i kept expecting the moment when finally their unconditional love reached its limit but it never fucking did.

there was never a moment that patroclus wouldn’t have died, fought, or killed for his lover. and never one moment where achilles wouldn’t do the same. it never mattered that achilles was aristos achaion, because patroclus was the world to him and never stopped being so.

we never had to watch them grow apart, or become bitter towards each other. it was all pure, faultless, unyielding love until the very end. they never had to yearn, they never had to doubt. patroclus agonized over the idea of one day losing his achilles, constantly worrying over him. and achilles completely wrecked with grief over losing his most beloved.

I really want Jean to have a moment where he truly gets over his complicated feelings for Kevin. To accept that things were fucked because there was no other option. That Kevin still cares deeply for him even if he doesn't see Jean that way.

I also want Jean to text Kevin "Had sex with your crush. Die mad about it" and not elaborate.

AU where Neil never joined the Foxes, but ended up an Exites employee. He plays short one-on-one games with players who want to test their new racquets, and has inadvertently honed his skill against so many different types of players with different expertise. Andrew's group goes to get Kevin some new equipment, and Neil knows better than to play well against him. But Kevin forgets himself and gets a little too excited about testing out a new racquet, whipping the ball at Neil so fast that Neil instinctively slams it back hard enough to light up the goal on the opposite side of the court. Kevin is slack-jawed that some random retail worker scored against him so quickly and so easily and shuts down for a minute while his brain reboots. From a distance Neil swears he hears someone mutter "Interesting". Then Kevin's brain is back online and starts begging him to try out for their team. Neil realizes their is one thing worse than being recognized by Kevin Day and dragged back to his father: not being recognized by Kevin Day and trying to convince the grown ass man to get up off the floor and stop clinging to his legs and holy shit jackass, can you pretend to have some dignity??

?????????

a hazy gaze from madness, sweat and, perhaps, non-existent tears