MY SHAYLASSSS

The thing is that Jayce succeeds. He was right.

He was able to create magic. His idea was revolutionary. He was able to harness the arcane and fuse it with scientific principles to create amazing things. Somewhere along the way he reached his life's goal of giving magic to the world, and he still had so much more left to offer. He had the praise and the accolades and the funding and his face on the goddamn mugs.

And it wasn't enough. Not where it mattered most. Not for who it mattered most.

(Do you think Jayce felt sick, cleaning the dirt and blood from his pristine white coat, waiting? Do you think the memories kept it off, despite the chill in the lab air, with him only re-donning his Man of Progress suit when Viktor leaves for good? Do you think upon his return from the anomaly that he cradles his old mug — the one Viktor bought for him as a joke — suddenly and fiercely glad for his grown out hair and beard because he is not that man anymore. He hasn't been for a long time. Maybe he never really was.

Not that it matters. He has a promise to keep.)

underappreciated aspect of vent art is the ability to look back on it months, even years later and say Yeah. I guess it does get better.

Every vigilante who trained as robin has the hardwired instinct inside them to jump inside batman's cape whenever there's danger

Have they tried getting rid of it? Yeah. What has it led to? Them aggressively jerking to the direction Batman's in and ending up falling to the ground. Hard.

I just got The Art of Star Wars: The High Republic book, and there’s a quote from Ian McCaig I really liked.

“Here’s the thing about the Force — maybe it’s just my interpretation of it, but I thought it was something George [Lucas] told us back on The Phantom Menace: There was no light [versus] dark side of the Force. The dark side is part of the Force. What keeps it in balance is saying no to it, allowing it to do what it does, to warn and to frighten and to guide us through our dark emotions, and then you’re using all of the Force, not just one little piece, which is where the dark side always goes wrong. But what [the Jedi are] calling the light side is the entirety of the Force.”

I just like this because of the idea of some pretentious Sith going “we have embraced all of the Force while you pathetic Jedi sit around with your narrow-minded idea—“ and then there’s this guy saying “well ACTUALLY”

ik they're Jewish, but "Merry Christmas, Please Don't Call" by Bleachers is so Stan Twins-coded it honestly makes me cry

no actually I'm not done with this

I don't have the ability to animate for shit (maybe one day) so y'all will just have to suffer through my vaguely-described brainchild bc this makes me so ill not even joking

ok so:

(intro music) We see a split screen, on the left (LSS) is Stan and on the right (RSS) is Ford. Stan is early into his grifter years, and Ford is in college. Both look a little older than when Stan is kicked out. Both are laying awake at night staring at the ceiling, Stan in his car and Ford in his dorm bed.

To the tempo of your uptight Uptight being a synonym for an anxious state, we see each of them tapping a foot or a finger

Is the flicker of a street light A streetlight is visible from the Stanleymobile and from Ford's dorm window, though visibly different ones. The light is flickering, for both of them.

You know this moment don't ya Both twins squeeze their eyes shut, and the lights combine into a single one, different from the ones before. This is the light from outside their Jersey home, the night Stan is kicked out.

And time is strangely calm now Both twins stare off into space, the split screen back in place. Stan is in his car, and Ford in their his room. They are young(er) again. (so, so young)

'Cause everybody's gone it's (LSS): Stan looks to his passenger side, where Ford would sit if he were driving them both. (RSS): Ford looks at Stan's empty bunk, at all the stuff he's left behind.

Just you and your anger We see Stan's fists tightening around the steering wheel, and Ford's around the pamphlet. They are both gritting their teeth while tears drip down their faces.

Oh golden boy We now see singularly from Stan's perspective. The boys as children run past, Ford beaming while playing around with Stan. This is tinged with fondness.

don't act like you were kind This is Ford on the swing, talking about West Coast Tech. This is Ford, shutting the curtains, leaving Stan hanging with his High Six in the air.

You were mine but you were awful every time This is Stan with Ford in the basement, smiling about reconciling before being handed the journal.

So don't tell them what you told me Stan and Ford argue in the basement - This is specifically the line "I'm giving you the chance to do something worthwhile for once in your life."

Don't hold me like you know me Ford and Fiddleford, either in college or working on the portal. Ford looks at a picture of the twins before Fidds calls his attention and he stuffs it back in a pocket.

I would rather burn forever Stan, smoking a cigarette down as far as it will go

But you should know that I died slow Stan, alone in Ford's bathroom, tending to his brand.

Running through the halls of your haunted home Stan looks around the mess that is the cabin while Ford is in his deepest paranoia.

And the toughest part is that we both know Stan leafs through Journal 1, desperate for answers.

What to happened to you Stan, hurt and angry, shoving Ford toward the portal accidentally.

Why you're out on your own Stan, watching Ford begging for him to do something as he is swallowed by the portal.

Merry Christmas, please don't call We see Stan's figure outline sitting in the darkness of the broken portal, hugging the journal. He wants his brother back.

You really left me on the line kid 17 year old Ford in their room, cradling something that triggers a memory of Young Stan and Ford

Holding all your baggage Ford puts this item in a box labeled Keep.

You know I'm not your father Portal-Years Ford stares into a mirror. A comparison of Ford, Stan (the way Ford remembers him), and Filbrick in a mirror. Ford looks away.

Who says welcome to your uptight Filbrick stares at a college-age Ford, inquiring about money.

While it flickers like a street light Ford is still nervous in the face of his father. He remembers what happened to Stan.

He flickers through your damage Ford looks at his hands. Five-fingered hands, rough with callouses and boxing scars overlay them. He curls them into fists and looks away.

Oh golden boy you shined a light on our home Ford's view of Stan, a strong and sociable protector and companion. Similar to the photo of them boxing, with Filbrick in the background.

And at your best you were magic we were sold Young Ford, enraptured by the story that a young Stan is weaving for him.

But don't tell em what you told me Post-Portal Stan and Ford, when Stan renounces Ford as family.

Don't even tell em that you know me Stan with the twins, explaining Ford's relation to him as Ford watches, missing something that he can't quite name.

I would rather burn forever Ford, working himself to the bone to prepare for Weirdmaggedon, ignoring Stan.

But you should know that I died slow Ford's time in the portal. He is constantly reminded of Stan, his memory version of Stan (young and loving) wherever he goes, and it pains him incredibly. Hunted and injured, he goes to talk to his brother, but there's only air.

Running through the halls of your haunted home 17 year old Ford walks past family portraits in their childhood home, pointedly ignoring them.

And the toughest part is that we both know We switch to split screen again. Stan is alone and grifting, Ford is at his HS graduation. There is an empty seat next to him.

What to happened to you Single screen again. This is the packed duffle bag by the door.

Why you're out on your own This is the perpetual motion machine, spinning until it breaks. Stans horrified face appears, then Ford's furiously betrayed one.

Merry Christmas, please don't call Split screen. Snow falls gently, Stan in his car and Ford in the cabin. Phones are in frame for both of them. They don't even look at them.

One ticket out of your heavy gaze Post-college Ford, feeling guilty/remorseful looking at an old picture. He flashes back to Stan pleading eyes looking up from the street that night.

I want one ticket off of your carousel Ford then lays awake at night, thinking about how Stan might be doing.

I want one ticket out of your heavy gaze Grifter Stan, staring at the boxing picture. He flashes back to Ford's betrayed face looking down from the window that night.

I want one ticket off of your carousel Stan then lays awake at night, thinking about how Ford might be doing.

But you should know that I die slow Split Screen: Stan and Ford, fighting/running from Nightmare creatures separately during Weirdmaggedon.

Running through the halls of your haunted home Single Screen: Both running to save the Mystery twins.

And the toughest part is that we both know Both twins locking eyes while caged, the plan forming silently.

What happened to you The memory gun being set to "Stanley Pines"

Why you're out on your own Stan in that clearing in the woods, Ford and the twins running to hug him.

Merry Christmas, please don't call Young Grifter Stan, standing at a phone booth as it snows. Ford answers, but Stan doesn't say anything.

Merry Christmas, I'm not yours at all College Ford sits at the table with his parents and Shermie/Shermie's family, having a holiday dinner. Caryn has put out an empty chair. Ford keeps glancing at it.

Merry Christmas, Please don't call me Slightly Older Grifter Stan stands at a different phone booth, holiday sales being advertised nearby. Ford doesn't answer this time.

Please don't call me The landline in Ford's house rings. Bill symbols have begun to appear.

Please don't call me The landline in Ford's house rings. There's even more of Bill this time.

Please don't call me The landline rings, and Soos answers. The Grunkles are at sea. Stan calls something out to Ford, who is standing at the bow. He turns, and answers. The water is calm, and their arms are now around each other. They don't need a phone, they're right there with each other.

Anyway thanks for bearing with me, I hope you can see my vision :)

“those tragic characters aren’t real they can’t hurt y—”

WRONG THEY MAY NOT BE REAL BUT MY TEARS ARE

Innovators

feels relevant to my tastes

Me when the musical based on a famous greek tragedy becomes tragic

He was as tall as he was tall, and his eyes were the color they were. To describe his hair one would say that he had some. His face had all the features you'd expect, and none of the ones you wouldn't. "There he is," people would often say of him, but only when he was there. And they were right.

My princess with a disorder🥹

Also heres the full list of maladies by popular request