So Everything Kinda Sucks Rn

logan and wade out at a gay bar

wade suggested it; logan heard “free drinks” and agreed

it’s loud, the floors are sticky, but wade is having a great time, twirling yukio on the dance floor and necking blowjob shots like he’s getting paid for it (it’s possible that logan watches him lick the whipped cream from his lips every single time with Rapt attention, but that’s his business)

logan’s not really feeling up to dancing, so he sits at the bar, pleasantly buzzed and watching wade glide his way through the crowd. eventually, someone approaches him, and they’re laying it on Thick. their eyes dart from logan’s eyes, to his beer-wet lips, to the bit of chest hair tufted above the neckline of his tank, to his biceps bulging out of his flannel, and it’s Not Fucking Subtle, but they seem harmless enough; he offers little in the way of responses, opting for noncommittal grunts or hums while his gaze remains trained on wade in the sea of bar-goers.

but, inevitably, the person takes logan’s aloofness as a game, an invitation to push a little further, like he’s playing hard to get — they rest a hand on his shoulder, dip their fingers beneath his collar, bat their lashes and lean close enough that logan can smell the liquor perfuming their breath with sharp clarity

“so, what’s your type, handsome?”

logan shrugs their hand off. raises the bottle in his hand, points at where wade is now tugging ellie into the fray, jubilant and pink with laughter even as ellie digs her heels into the ground and whips her head from side to side.

“the grumpy bald chick?” the person asks with a scowl.

yukio appears behind her girlfriend and starts pushing her forward; wade whoops triumphantly.

“bald guy yanking on the bald chick,” logan clarifies, and the insistent bargoer wrinkles their nose.

if he were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t hear the eugh that slips out of their liquor-loose mouth, but he isn’t, and he does, and it pisses him the fuck off.

so much so, in fact, that he slams his beer down on the bar hard enough to crack the glass, and marches over to where wade is still trying to get ellie to dance. he snakes an arm around his waist, pulls him backward, and plants a nasty kiss on him, right in the eye line of the now very pissy bargoer. their indignance rolls audibly over the crowd like fog before they stomp away, red-cheeked and irritated.

wade’s not complaining, and ellie is grateful for the distraction

My memory of The Birdcage (1996) is always that it's more dated and more difficult to watch than it actually is. You hear "drag-themed comedy from the 90s based on a musical from the 80s based on a play from the 70s" and you brace yourself just a little, right? But the film has a strong gay perspective, so the fruity fag jokes mostly come off as warmly affectionate. There is a surprising amount of poignancy in Robin Williams' portrayal of Armand, grudgingly agreeing to his beloved son's request that he go back into the closet for an evening ("do me a favor and don't talk to me for a while"). The drag club's staff attempting to redecorate the apartment with stuff straight people might like (a taxidermy moose head, an enormous crucifix, and Playboy magazine) is extremely funny. Albert's histrionics are a point of tension because he does often come off as a stereotypically pathetic/comic figure, but towards the end of the movie he makes it very clear that he's aware of how people see him, and asserts that trying to copy a stoic masculinity he doesn't possess for the sake of social approval would be more pathetic. In the 1983 musical adaptation, they give "Albert" (Albin) the only good song in the whole show, "I Am What I Am", which Gloria Gaynor covered to the delight of gays everywhere. Apparently Nathan Lane wasn't (publicly) out yet in 1996, which is amazing because it means that at one point in this movie you're watching a gay man playing a straight man playing a gay man playing a straight man, in a movie about how it's important to be yourself, an absurdity that does seem to encapsulate the state of gay America in the 90s.

Every last thought of mine is just consumed by this emotionally stunted meerkat

I want to [remembers that suicide jokes only further damage my mental health] fuck you like an animal

Since up to now Paul Rudd has played a douchebag victim and a sweetie pie casualty, I'm gonna need him to be a bitter-sweet hero this time.

Being in this fandom is crazy because sometimes you remember things like when Martin Short wrote a musical about Martin Short with the same guys who co-wrote Which of the Pickwick..., and in that musical Martin Short died and people wanted to replace him with Meryl Streep, and it's a real song.

had to slap myself multiple times after gawking over him in this movie/him in GENERAL .... because one, I look like an idiot; two, I need to lock in and study/do my hmw 💔; and three and most importantly, I don't stand a chance on SO MANY LEVELS

reminder to literally never look up tlk on ao3 oh my god

Do yal see the vision?!?