#john has ptsd

[spnregular]

the idea that any winchester is neurotypical is so funny to me. those people are canonically Weird and Off-putting.

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

I keep thinking about Arthur's regression at the end of Season 2 and then into Season 3. I keep thinking about how victims of trauma tend to get worse once they escape their traumatic situation. How their body and mind start to crack and shake under the weight of the horrors, now safe enough to escape the survivorship mindset but now forced to endure the fallout.

I keep thinking of how hard Faroe's death hit Arthur. How his guilt and grief were so intense that he wanted to kill himself, so low that he drank himself into a stupor for who knows how many years to just dull the pain. I keep imagining how hard it was to pull himself out of that, to work with Parker and find a new meaning in life, to walk away from his guilt of killing his daughter, and instead to help people.

(I keep thinking of how Arthur finds a vial of alcohol in the Dreamlands. How he sniffs it and recoils in disgust.)

I keep thinking of how long it took for Arthur to build himself back up from his lowest point, to tuck the guilt of Faroe in the deepest corner of his mind just so that he has enough room to breathe, to live, to be a better person. (And yet, Faroe is every facet of his life. It's his first memory in Season One, when he plays Faroe's Song, when he doesn't even remember his own name. It's the last name on his lips when he dies on that boat. It's his only memory when John is torn away from him.) I keep thinking about how Arthur is consciously repressing her every second of every day just so that he can keep going.

And then John pushes, and asks, and asks again. And finally, after almost dying twice with this entity, after surviving time and time again, he thinks he can trust him. He thinks he can share his deepest secret, to pull open the wound he keeps stitching over to protect himself. How he risks feeling the grief he's suppressed for years to trust someone. I keep thinking how John seizes it and, because he is ancient and young and inexperienced, childlike in his tantrums and his fears of responsibility and consequence, he uses it as a weapon the moment he's backed into a corner. I keep thinking of how not only the trust is torn away from Arthur, but how his wound is stretched and torn, and not only does his guilt and grief come back, but it's like a tidal wave that he cannot suppress this time. He's opened that wound and John has pried it wider, and now Arthur can't shut it. He survives in those pits, but she is all he thinks of. He escapes those pits, and ("Goodbye, Faroe.") she is all he thinks of. He slits his throat and she's all he thinks of.

He enters at icy cabin (a small gurgle, a bundle of blankets in his arm, a warm hum rumbling in his chest as he lulls his whole World to sleep) and he thinks of her to keep going.

And then Yellow enters, a blank slate, a John before he was John, and the pain is too fresh. This is the thing that tortured him. This is the thing that starved him. This is the thing who asked who his daughter was, and when he told him, the thing called him a killer. John and Yellow and the King are all the same in that moment, and Arthur's too fucked up and traumatized to separate them tangibly, as much as he insists that he can. His hatred grows and grows, all from himself, until it bleeds into Yellow, and he remakes this entity in his image, in his self-pitying hatred.

So when Yellow finally calls him a monster (and Arthur knows, he's called himself that the moment he saw the water spill from the bathtub onto the tile below), Arthur holds it close to his chest, and becomes it.

[oodliedoodlies]

NOOOOO Hickory x John Dory!? I hate creek but John's my favorite :[

Ohhh JD is Creek’s favorite too!! (And Creek is JD’s favorite 🥰🥰)

Anyway for those curious about my Creekdory dynamic, It’s Golden retriever and black cat.

Creek has chronic pain so he walks with a cane or uses the wheelchair that JD built him (from scratch❤️)

[elvisqueso]

Pocahontas (1995)

[f1zzlest1ckzz]

i have more gifs of their idle animations that i hc are stims but these are my main ones. anyways

[subtlehysteria]

no thoughts, just Sherlock & Co. episode 8

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

(PART 1 )

I think A LOT about Soap trying to give back the childhood Ghost lost. (Part 4) Warning: this one is a hurt\comfort

Ghost never slept well, but recently it was getting worse. He despised his own room because being there meant going to sleep. Sleep meant tossing in bed for hours until he could see sunshine again because if he got any shut-eye it was filled with nightmares- filled with memories of his father and the things Roba did to him, the things he made him do. 

But Ghost couldn't go like this for the rest of his life, he had to go to sleep. He knew that the longer he waits, the more snappy and brody he gets. He gets frustrated so much easier, and when you have people under your command it's not really a good match. 

Snapping at his teammates become frequent, even at Soap. It was unpleasant to be around him for the past few days, and Soap tried- really tried - to ask Ghost if something was bothering him, but it only made him more defensive. Soap didn’t deserve that, he had to go to sleep.

So the faithful night he took a hot shower to loosen up his muscles, took a sleeping pill, and forced himself to lay down and close his eyes. He regretted it.

It was painfully quiet, he couldn’t make out his surroundings, it was all a blur of familiar  places, yet nothing felt right. Sadly he could recognize all the bodies surrounding him. Gaz, Price, Rudy, Alejandro, and Laswell- all completely still, cold. Bullets all around them. And then he heard him. 

“Simon…” There in his arms laid Soap, eyes foggy and unable to focus. He was weakly grasping at Ghost. “Too late… Ye left us.”

“Soap! I wouldn’t! Johnny-”

“You let us down…” Soap’s words were no more than a weak whisper and his eyes closed softly like he just went to sleep.

“No, no, no, no…” Ghost wept, cradling his sergeant to his chest. “Don’t leave me Soap. You can’t leave! JOHNNY!”

He woke up covered in a cold sweat, he couldn’t take a breath. Ghost wanted to vomit. He never dreamt about others, always about himself. He couldn’t erase the picture of his dead team- friends, Johnny. He had to check on him. Before he knew he pulled his balaclava on with trembling hands, his throat was sore, he had to be screaming.

He was on his way to Soap’s room in a blink of an eye, only when he stood before the sergeant’s doors he felt that his balaclava was soaking wet. Soap couldn’t see him in that state, what would he think? How someone like him- weak and fragile, could protect him? A man like him should just deal with it, not-

“Ghost!” Johnny stood right in front of him, doors open. “Ey, ye with me?”

Ghost couldn’t bring himself to answer, he just stood there.

“Ok… ok, come on, Si we won’t be standing ‘ere.” He made space for Ghost to enter his room and locked the door after him.

Soap could take a closer look at Ghost now. He saw through the mask- red, teary eyes, wet streaks on the thick fabric. Ghost was hyperventilating.

“Dear God… Ghost wha-”

“I should go.” He cut in, voice raspy, about to turn around. 

Soap gently put his hand on Ghost’s chest, stopping him. “Si-”

The small touch of Soap’s warm hand right on his heart broke him to pieces. He sobbed and pulled Soap into a bone-crushing hug. Soap didn’t take long to reciprocate, he hold Ghost flush to his body. Ghost’s breathing was slowly evening out with every inhale of Johnny’s body wash he got.

“Wanna talk about it? I heard my name while asleep, though something happened.” Soap spoke up, running his hand between Ghost’s shoulder blades. "I wanted to go look for you."

Ghost just shook his head. “Can I stay?” He mumbled.

“You don’t have to ask.” Soap walked them to the bed, pulling Simon to lay on his chest.

Ghost could hear the strong beat of Soap’s heart.

“Try to not think about it, Lt.”

“If only it was this easy, Soap.” Ghost felt the arm around him tighten.

“I know…” Soap was quiet for a little bit. “I will take yer mind off of it.” He seemed to be embarrassed about what he was about to do. “I might be terrible at this.” Soap took a deep breath.

“Dèan an cadalan 's dùin do shùilean,

(Go to sleep and close your eyes)"

Soap quietly sang right to Simon’s ears.

“Dèan an cadalan beag na mo sgùrdaich;

(Have a wee sleep in my lap)

Rinn thu an cadalan, 's dhùin do shùilean,

(You went to sleep and closed your eyes)

Rinn thu an cadalan, slàn gun dùisg thu!

(You went to sleep, be well without waking)”

Ghost couldn’t understand a word, but his heart and soul seemed to be mending with every word.

“Cagaran, cagaran, cagaran gaolach

(Little darling, little darling, beloved little darling)

Cagaran foghainteach, fear de mo dhaoine

(Heroic little darling, one of my own kin)”

Soap’s singing wasn’t clean or professional by any means, but it was filled with care. It was more than enough to make Ghost’s eyelids heavy again.

“Thuit e na chadalan, thuit e na shuainean,

(He fell asleep, he fell into slumber)

Caithrisidh ainglean gu càirdeil mun cuairt dha;

(Angels keep affectionate vigil around him)

Cluinnidh e an guthan a' cagar na chluasan,

(He can hear the breath of a whisper in his ears)

'S bidh fiamh gàire air gràdhan na bhruadar!

(and the loved one will smile in his dream!)”

Soon Soap heard soft snoring accompanying him.

“Sleep well, m’eudail.” 

And maybe, just maybe Ghost still heard that, thought it was a dream. A good one.

This one turned out to be a little different huh... Look, it's still fluffy, right? RIGHT? I am wondering what to write next <3

I will post it on Twitter and ao3 tomorrow, bc I am beyond tired. You guys can feel like VIPs I love all the feedback <3

[jaynovz]

I do wanna say re: Silver Backstory and my rec list and my tendency to poke and prod and explore where he may have come from--

That's not me saying that the way his character is presented in the canon *needs* that, at ALL.

First off, the speech on the cliffs, the Solomon Little stories, the complete inability to share?

It's perfect for the character, as well as an absolutely jaw-dropping ballsy as hell decision to make a prequel/adaptation about the most famous pirate figure in Western media and simply... refuse to define him in those terms the way we've seen the other main characters. It's such a ballsy and brilliant move that sometimes I stare at the wall thinking about what they have done and just, god I hope one day I can write something that great. I could go on about that but it's not my main point.

Second off, many ppl have said that the point is that the story of Black Sails itself *becomes* his origin, and in many ways that is absolutely true and I agree.

However, I also wanna point out that the acting and the writing reflect all the information we would ever need to know about John Silver even if he cannot bear to speak it in specifics.

in 4.9, Silver says:

“I have no story to tell. It all might seem as though I’m trying to conceal something from you, but… truth is, there is no story to tell. ... Not unremarkable, just…without relevance. A long time ago, I absolved myself from the obligation of finding any. No need to account for all my life’s events in the context of a story that somehow…defines me. Events, some of which, no one could divine any meaning from…other than that the world is a place of unending horrors. I’ve come to peace with the knowledge…that there is no storyteller imposing any coherence, nor sense, nor grace upon those events. Therefore, there’s no duty on my part to search for it. You know of me all I can bear to be known. All that is relevant to be known."

"Other Than That The World Is A Place Of Unending Horrors."

Now, coming at this as someone with my own fucked up trauma, that one sentence coupled with the performance from Luke really tells us everything we need to know.

So yeah, in a way it both does and doesn't matter that we don't get his history wrapped up in a pretty package, both bc it's NEVER THAT SIMPLE, and bc his REACTIONS to events/ppl are... so VERY clearly the reactions of someone who has been deeply traumatized. We don't NEED to know for the story and character to work EXACTLY as intended.

We can see him, we the audience. If you pay attention, he is not some mystery at all. We may not know exactly what happened to him, but also, we do... don't we?

[a41-i-finally-caved]

“I’m a piece of shit," JJ bursts. "Don’t you get that? I’m a piece of shit!”

“Bullshit,” John B says.

Kie frowns. “J, you’re not—”

“Shut up! Don’t you get it? I put a gun to my dad’s head and if it would’ve stopped shaking a second, I’d have blown his goddamn brains out.” He’s panting, sick, sweating, he’s gonna puke. “That’s sick, man, sick! Not good or payback or justice; just fucked.”

They don’t get it. JJ looks wildly from one face to another, and he knows they don’t. They don’t see it. How can they not see it? He—

“I love you guys so goddamn much, you don’t even know. And I 'ppreciate what all you’ve done for me, but none of that means shit.” The words come out like gross and spewing like vomit. His voice cracks. It’s pathetic. It hurts.

“JJ—”

“’Cause I love my fucking dad, but I just tried to put a bullet in his skull,” JJ steamrolls… whoever that was. He can’t tell. Can’t see shit, keeps blurring. He’s gasping. “Who does that, huh? What kind of piece of fucking shit does that?” He’s crying, he realizes, fucking crying like a pussy in front of all of them. “My dad, my whole life—it’s the fucking birds before the shark, guys.” They still don’t get it. Why don’t they—

“It doesn’t matter what I do wrong, what I do right, the fucking shit’s still coming. I tried, okay? I tried.” He can’t get the words out fast enough, can’t get the air in, can’t make them—

“And doesn’t matter—it never matters! I don’t fucking mat—” He chokes on it.

“Why can’t you see that?”

[matt-murdick]

Kreese, every time he has to excuse Terry’s behaviour:

[constantineshots]

beer doesn't do so good in warm weather, john. you need water.

but also, this story... it deals with a man who fought in vietnam i believe, and it's nothing supernatural or magical. john got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it's a sad read.

[schrijverr]

Tomorrow Will Be Different 25

Chapter 25 out of 26

Instead of managing to meet up later, Oliver has to keep running with Akio. The only way to keep them safe is to go public with Oliver being alive, leaving him back home in charge of Akio, while Tatsu and Maseo are still in the wind

In this chapter, they face pushy paparazzi outside the courthouse, which sends Oliver into a spiral. As the future for the Yamashiros becomes clearer, his own becomes more terrifying.

On AO3.

Ships: Tatsu x Maseo

Warnings: pushy paparazzi, ptsd flashback + panic attack

~~~

Chapter 25: Panic at the Courthouse

After that first night, it all goes very fast. They release a vague statement to the press about not answering any questions and requesting privacy in these times. It is not necessarily respected, but the security of the mansion is good, so they keep to the house.

Moira sets to work in getting Tatsu and Maseo the right paperwork to be reinstated officially as Akio’s guardians and to get back home.

The two are very grateful to her for that. Oliver decides not to mention that her actions are probably not out of the goodness of her heart, but because she wants them to get away, before they suddenly change their mind and try to make a grab for their money.

It irks Oliver to hell that she still thinks like that after all their talks, but he lets it go. She hasn’t said anything about it and it might be between his own ears. If he’s rebuilding bridges, he should give her the benefit of the doubt.

Besides, the lawyers she hires for them are the best and he can’t argue with providing his friends with the best. This whole process should be as smooth as possible, they’ve been through too much for anything less.

Going to the courthouse to get everything finalized is an interesting experience. They have all been avoiding cameras as much as possible, going incognito whenever they are on the streets. So, the paparazzi is going wild trying to get to them.

Since the process has gone smoothly, the interest in the story hasn’t died down too much between the news breaking and the court date. And the news of said court date has fanned the flames of interest once more.

Oliver sees them before they even pull up to the curb. He turns to Tastu and Maseo and says: “Just keep Akio between you, Dig will cover you best he can. Keep your head down and don’t say anything.”

Both Tatsu and Maseo eye the crowd warily. “I don’t like this,” Tatsu says.

“No one does,” Oliver snorts. “But they’re more interested in me than you. Sure, you two are still an interesting target, but they’ll likely flock to me. Use that to get inside, they won’t follow you there.”

“This is normal for you?” Maseo asks concerned, eyeing the crowd again.

“My birth was in the news, I’ve been in the spotlight for as long as I can remember,” Oliver shrugs, going back to observing the paparazzi getting pushed back by Dig and thus missing the disturbed looks Tatsu and Maseo share.

Diggle manages to get the car door open and ushers them out. Oliver is glad the man returned, this would be hell without him.

Akio is practically sandwiched between everyone. Diggle is in front of him, with Tatsu on his left and Maseo on his right, Oliver taking the rear.

Tatsu and Maseo turn in defensively, covering Akio better and taking Oliver’s advice to keep their heads down. Oliver makes sure to keep his head upright, he won’t be cowed and he has an image to maintain, not to mention a target to paint on his back.

His strategy is successful and a dozen microphones appear under his nose as flashes go off in his eyes, disorientating him, while questions come from all sides.

“Mr. Queen were these experiments just chemical or physical as well. There is still no comment on your alleged deformed torso.”

“Is it true you refused to see an American doctor, because you have secret China government medical implants, Mr. Queen?”

“Are Mr. and Mrs. Yamashiro selling Akio to you?”

“Would you describe the experimentation as torture? Were you tortured, Mr. Queen?”

“Will you be seeking psychological help after the trauma, Mr. Queen? Are you sane enough to be in the public after what you’ve been through?”

Oliver is doing a pretty admirable job of keeping it together, if he does say so himself. He is almost at the door when one last question ruins it. A reporter holds up a photo of a man and asks: “Can you confirm the identity of other victims on the boat? Do you recognize the man in the photo?”

Fyers and Wintergreen appear in front of his eyes, the sounds of the reporters turning into the sound of the base camp as the flashes become flickering sunlight that comes in as the entrance flaps in the wind.

He barely manages to stumble into the courthouse after the others, the door being pushed close behind him, as he takes a few more wobbly steps, trying to get to a bench in the hallway. The urge to curl up into a ball is strong, but that would leave him defenseless so he locks his knees.

A hand appears to support him, but he can only feel Fyers backing him towards that pole where Wintergreen tortured him. So he starts to fight back. However, the sensation of his clothes don’t match Lian Yu and if he concentrates, he can make out that the voices he’s hearing are ones he knows and not voices he should fear.

“Keep breathing, Oliver. Breathe in… breathe out… just follow me, breathe in…,” Diggle’s voice is the first that fully penetrates his senses into making sense.

Shuddering Oliver tries to follow, slowly realizing that Diggle is holding him upright in a restraining hold, though as to not block his airways. Following his instructions is not easy and every time he thinks he has managed, he chokes up again and feels breathless. However, he’s breathing semi-okay after a bit.

“I’m gonna move you to a bench, that okay?” Diggle says when he notices.

Words sounds incredibly difficult right now, but Oliver manages a nod. He braces himself for the movement, repeating in his mind over and over again that he’s getting moved to a bench by a friend, not tied to a pole by an enemy.

He knows it is going to suck and send him right back into the panic attack, but staying like he is now isn’t an option. Everyone is moving around him, being near the door as he is, which doesn’t help him calm down. He needs to be somewhere a bit more quiet if he wants to shake this off.

Indeed, Diggle grabs him and Oliver can only feel a combination of Wintergreen tying him to that pole, Ivo strapping him to a table, and Amanda pushing him onto that chair.

It takes all his concentration not to snap Diggle’s neck, struggling slightly against him as he is dragged to a bench and plopped down. In the back of his mind, he can only imagine the kind of rumors the press will be fed by those who are witnessing this, bitterly he remembers the reporter inquiring him if he was even sane enough to be out and about.

Tatsu appears in front of him, kneeling on the floor so that she can look into his down turned eyes. She says: “I need you to follow Maseo’s breathing and listen to my voice.”

Maseo sits down next to him, enough space between them to not feel like he is crowding him, and starts breathing regularly and loudly.

Much like with Diggle earlier, Oliver tries his hardest to follow, slowly getting more successful as time goes on. Tatsu’s voice helps. Her tone is soothing and he is instead reminded of when they meditated together, a better memory to latch onto until he can drag himself to the present.

When he finally blinks his eyes into the present, Tatsu gives him a kind look. “Welcome back, Oliver.”

He smiles back tiredly.

“Is he okay?” Akio asks worriedly.

Oliver wants to tell him he’s all okay, even if that would be a lie, because he is kind of freaked out himself still and scared, this hasn’t happened to him before. However, he can’t find it within himself to speak, his tongue like lead.

Maseo answers for him: “He will be okay, Akio. He just had a nightmare, while he was awake. Just give him a few moments.”

“Okay,” Akio says, believing his father, but still watching Oliver worriedly, from his place next to Diggle, who has been keeping people away from them.

Oliver gives Maseo a questioning look, because that answer came really easy to him.

“Like your loss of appetite, I know this feeling,” Maseo explains, making Oliver feel less alone.

“Did you have an attack like this before?” Tatsu asks.

He shakes his head no. It came out of nowhere and it scared him. He doesn’t know exactly what happened and he’d like it to never happen again.

Tatsu’s eyes grow sympathetic and understanding. “You’ll feel tired and need to rest. Your body is starting to feel safe again, letting your mind process what happened.”

“It is nothing to be afraid of,” Maseo adds. “Once you know what triggers you, you can avoid it, and start to work through it, so they don’t happen as often.”

Oliver completely disagrees. The whole thing is terrifying, he nearly killed Diggle. If this is what his body does when it starts to feel safe, he’s never going to let it feel safe again. However, he doesn’t let that show, just nods again.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamashiro? The judge is waiting for you,” Laurel’s voice comes as a shock to his system and his face snaps up, likely unable to hide the horror at her witnessing this.

Both Tatsu and Maseo look reluctant to leave him alone, which can’t happen. He forces himself to speak: “Go. I’ll be okay. I’ll join you when I can.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Dig promises when they look apprehensive.

Oliver would prefer it, if Diggle protected Akio, however, Akio will be with his highly skilled parents and the thought of being alone right now doesn’t sound very appealing. So, he just forces a smile and gestures: “See, I’m in good hands. Go.”

Reluctantly, the Yamashiros follow Laurel, who has offered to show them to the right court room.

Once they’re out of sight, Oliver sags again, forcing himself to take a deep breath and slapping his face a few times to stay awake and alert.

Diggle sits down next to him, thankfully also leaving space like Maseo did. He lets Oliver collect himself a little, before he asks: “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Oliver answers.

Knowing Diggle, he would’ve spoken regardless of the answer. “I used to have flashbacks all the time when I first got home. Lyla made me join a support group, before we divorced. She attended a different one, so we wouldn’t drag it home, regardless of the rules. It helped.”

“I’m not joining a support group,” Oliver scowls. “I can’t even talk about what actually happened to me.”

“And I’m not saying you should, just saying that talking about it helps.”

He’s saved from answering by Laurel, who returns with a glass of water. “I don’t know if this will help, but some water is always good,” she says as she offers it to him.

Oliver takes it gratefully, sipping the water with small sips to avoid triggering a flashback to being waterboarded. “Thank you.”

“Are you okay?” Laurel asks cautiously, sitting down next to him on the other side, a little too close for comfort.

“You don’t have to do this. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work, I’m sure you’re busy,” he tries to deflect.

Laurel knows what he’s doing, but doesn’t comment on it directly, instead giving him a smile as she says: “I’m actually done here for today, I’m taking my lunch hour, before going back to the office. I figured I can keep you company for a bit.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s good,” Oliver says, shifting away slightly as Dig makes more space on his other side.

“Are you okay?” Laurel asks again, smile now gone and replaced by worried brows. Oliver tries to convince himself it wasn’t better when she fully hated him.

“I’m fine, Laurel.”

“Ollie…”

“Ms. Lance,” Diggle cuts in, saving him from further examination. “Just give him some space. He doesn’t have to talk, if he doesn’t want to.”

Laurel flushes slightly and says: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” Oliver assures her, not wanting her to feel bad for being concerned or listen to whatever she’ll say next. He can’t handle other people feeling bad about him being… about him going through… well, everything.

She sits in the silence next to him and he feels a little bad about it. He owes her some sort of explanation, if she is sacrificing her lunch hour to sit with him after his break down in a public place.

However, no words come to him. He can’t explain that the question of a reporter send him spiraling, he can only sit there, feeling ashamed, not meeting anyone’s eyes as they pass, yet hyper aware of every movement everywhere.

He is truly relieved when Laurel gets up, saying: “I need to leave to make it back on time. I hope you’re alright.”

“Much better already,” Oliver says with a tight smile.

She walks away and he can feel himself unclench a little. The time just sitting in silence has helped a lot and he can now properly watch the people passing. Most have lost interest in him after he calmed down, which is good. He doesn’t want this to end up anywhere. At that, a thought pops into his mind. “Did anyone film me?” he asks Dig.

“No, made sure they didn’t.”

“Thank god for that,” Oliver breathes out. “Thank you, Dig.”

“Of course,” Diggle replies with that kind stoic expression he wears often.

There is a lot Oliver wants to express in that moment. How he is still kind of terrified of that happening, how grateful he is to Diggle for keeping people away, how he is sorry for nearly killing him, how he never wants it to happen again, how he wants to know how Diggle deals with it. However, he doesn’t know how to verbalize any of it and before he can think of a way, they’re interrupted by the Yamashiros returning from court.

Guilt crashes over him that he didn’t go see their trial, too caught up in his own head. He hopes they’ll understand and this isn’t the place for it.

Akio is running over to him, stopping short in front of him as he excitedly yells: “The judge approved everything. We’re going home soon!”

Despite knowing this moment was coming since he got Tatsu and Maseo out of that cage and officially back, he doesn’t feel prepared for the reality of it actually being here. He has spend the past two weeks helping them prepare for the courts and making the final memories, but it is real now. They’re actually leaving soon

Oliver knows he has their numbers and is always free to call or text and that he knows their address and can always come by. However, not being able to go see them is still weird.

It’s crazy that only eight weeks ago they were saying goodbye on the docks of Hong Kong. Then it seemed much easier to see them leave. Funny how fast things can change.

He has told himself to work on his relationships with everyone from home. Yet those relationship will never be like what he has with the Yamashiro family. They know him in a way no one here knows him.

They know him as he is now, what he has been through, the effects it can have on someone. They do not look at him and try to see who he used to be. He can talk to him and they aren’t horrified, but understand instead. He doesn’t know how he is going to connect like that to those he knew before, even if he has known them longer.

But he doesn’t show all that, instead he smiles back as brightly as he can manage. “Wow, buddy, that’s amazing!”

[elvisqueso]

Times they had to say goodbye — [1/4]

Pocahontas (1995)

[theskeletoninthegarden]

Growth means giving every character a chronic illness and a service animal, as a treat.

[magic-glasses]

God forbid a mentally ill man exists and is represented as such (to John Walker haters)

[riverofrainbows]

So i watched the Winchesters now, because of the news about the finale, and i have to say. The show is actually brilliant. Not specifically as a show on itself, it's pretty good as a show at best (the internal logic, introduction to the world and characters are lacking to wobbly, but it's definitely enjoyable), but as a processing of supernatural. It really is "Dean sending his parents to therapy to work through his Mommy and Daddy issues". It's also not as repressed as supernatural and a lot of US american tv shows in general tend to be, so that is refreshing. It's kind of earnest which is nice. Also i cannot talk about it without mentioning Carlos, i am in love with Carlos, the incredibly chill and as far as i can say positive way this bisexual male character was introduced was fantastic. And his first scene, as a bi man i had to pause to breathe, and the camera/editing definitely supported that. Like that was celebratory not mocking.