#please be misguided in a quest for personal revenge and turn it around at the last minute I beg of thee

[whatsagirltoblogabout]

Luc Renault is a really cool name, so I really want to like this guy. But they are not making it easy :/

Edit: turned on the captions to figure out the spelling without risking spoilers. Apparently it's Renaud. Slightly less cool, not gonna lie. Still cool, to be clear, but not quite at the level of Renault (but also, where the hell did that spelling even pop into my brain from???)

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

Freudian projection is characterized by some as a defence mechanism employed by those who are struggling to accept difficult emotions or truths. Rather than admit or addressing the feelings, the emotions are projected onto someone else. Perhaps that is why Osamu Miya was particularly willing to accept your unfaithfulness. After engaging with his friends and brother in the group chat, the Onigiri Miya owner’s lack of satisfaction in the answers compelled him to further research the matters discussed. There were threads on social media of what conspired earlier that day. Some accounts were evidently false while others held a candor that could not be falsified. The more information he consumed, the lower his heart sunk until it had reached the pit of his stomach, soon to be tormented by the acids inside.

Was it solely a coincidence that the description provided in most accounts on Bokuto’s mystery girlfriend fitted you perfectly? Of course, it was not. The MSBY Ace admitted to being in your company for the evening. Hell, the proof was slathered across social media. There was no shame.

But why label yourself as his girlfriend publicly? It was obvious that he would learn about it sooner or later. 

Some spectators had posted to elucidate that the mystery girlfriend arrived only to save the MSBY player from hoards of fangirls who were bordering on harassment. So, did you do it to save him? You were never one to abandon your friends, despite the situation.

“She loves you, idiot.” He mumbled the reminder to himself in a scold. It was stupid to believe that you would cheat on him with his friend. He knew you loved him.

Of course he knew it. You loved him, and only him.

Yet a little voice in his head questioned whether his recent neglect had forced you into the arms of another. But the Ace was the last person he expected you to turn to. Your relationship with Iwaizumi, or even Oikawa held far more potential to evolve into something romantic. Ache spread across his chest like a wildfire at the mere thought of you with someone else.

The tiny noise of the lock clicking to an open hauled his attention from the nightmares projecting inside of his head back to the living room apartment. Removing the cap from his head, he attempted to burn the insecurity embedded in his thoughts as he proceeded to greet you at the front door. A weak smile twitched at the ends of his mouth disguising the flood of emotions he was drowning in.

“Oh, hi there. I didn’t expect to see you waiting for me like a little kitten.” A titter expelled from your lips as you stepped into the apartment, with the food containers held snugly against your stomach. Intoxicated by the excitement of finally spending some quality time with your fiancé, you were unable to detect the hints of pain scattered across his visage. “Here, you can start eating. I’m just gonna change into something else.” The plastic bag containing layers of food was offered out to the black-haired male, who was losing to the battle of insecurity waged against his mind. 

“Okay.” As he accepted the bag, his fingers brushed against yours, drawing his attention subconsciously to your hands. He was not actively searching for confirmation of your unfaithfulness. He certain was not… because you loved him. 

But if you loved him, and only him… Why was the ring symbolizing your love no longer snug against your finger?

The threads woven neatly together to disguise his emotions slowly loosened until all that remained were shrivelled pieces, serving no purpose. But you were already making your way to the bedroom, unaware of the torment that your carelessness had bestowed upon him.

Did you want him to suffer? Was that it? Were you seeking attention? Was this all a revenge ploy after what occurred with Ichika? Did Atsumu tell you something?

Truthfully, he would prefer that than knowing you loved someone else. You could seek all the revenge in the world, as long as you remained with him. He would accept it willingly.

But first he had to know – did you still love him?

Once the food containers were placed onto the table, he immediately began walking towards the bedroom, his quest for answers outweighed his appetite.  

Inside of the bedroom you were sat at the vanity, attempting to unhook the necklace from around your neck, but upon seeing your fiancé’s reflection, the hook was released from your fingers. The slightest hint of tears could be traced at the bottom of his eyelids, and with his greyish irises, it resembled a storm seconds from brewing. 

“Samu?” Instinctively you rose from the chair, quickly removing the space between you two before taking his hands in yours. His eyes landed on your intertwined fingers praying he was incorrect in his observations earlier. But alas there was no ring. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you love me?” The inquiry was voiced dejectedly as he searched your face for an answer. Generally, you were an open book with your emotions. Whether it was love or hatred, each emotion would alter your features in a noticeable manner. Right now, concern prompted little wrinkles to form at the edges of your eyes. But with the question registering upon your ears, disbelief brought your eyebrows to narrow.

“Oh god. That’s what has your panties twisted? I thought it was serious. You know that I love you, gremlin. Sorry to break it to you, but you’re mine forever now.” Irritation gnawed at your heart – how could he question your love? Was he really in any position to do so?

“Where’s your ring, y/n?” The words were whispered softly, barely overpowering the sounds stemming from the television in the other room.

“My ring?” A quizzical expression contorted your features, instinctively your gaze travelled from your left hand to the purse located on the vanity. “Right, it’s in my purse. I took it off for the shoot, but I guess I forgot to put it back on. Give me a second, I’ll go get it.” To retrieve the handbag his hands first had to be released, but to Osamu the loss of physical contact resembled a physical blow. Weakly he caught your shirt, forcibly halting your movements.

“Did you tell everyone that you’re Bokuto’s girlfriend?” Relinquishing the control he was struggling to maintain allowed his insecurity direct access to his vocal cords. There was no stopping him now.

“What? Well… Yeah but …” 

“Why?” His voice sliced through yours, despite the fact it was quite clear that you were seconds from explaining yourself anyway. The unexpected interrogation was beginning to damage the limited patience you had. Drained from the activities of the day, it was only natural that you were not mentally capable to handle the additional stress. Not when it stemmed from misguided assumptions.

“Because he was being harassed by some crazies, so I had to save him!” There was much more you desired to add, harsher sentiments but to silence your rage, you bit the insides of your cheeks until they were raw.

Osamu paused evaluating your answer, your version of events aligned with the spectators. As he thought, you took it upon yourself once more to save a friend. So why was he still taunted by the voice in his head?

“Is it true?” He instantly regretted it, seeing how it sent any restraint you mustered to wither away.

“What the fuck, Samu. Are you kidding me right now? I’m not cheating on you!” Hurt laced with rage shimmered in your y/e/c irises. Instantly you swatted at the hand confining you to him. Hearing the sincerity laced in your declarations awoke him from his fever dream.

You wouldn’t lie to him. No. He was the one lying to you. He was the idiot.

“I can’t believe it. You’re the one who is always missing. You are the one who hasn’t barely looked at me for months. You are the one who ditches our plans. But you’re accusing me? I can’t…” Desperate to focus on anything but him, you ripped your gaze from him, subconsciously searching for an escape from the situation. “I… I’m gonna stay at Akari’s tonight. I can’t do this. There is only so much I can take.” The ache weaving into your bloodstream would not stop you from leaving. The weight of his words poisoned the usually welcoming atmosphere of the apartment. It no longer felt like home. But if you were being honest, it hadn’t felt like home in a while.

Osamu thrusted a palm against his face, panic surging from his heart into his muscles. They had all warned him, and somehow, he still managed to dig his own grave.

“No please… Y/n. I’m sorry,” The little cracks in his voice constrained your movements, bringing your hands to lower from the dresser containing your clothes. “I’m just stressed, and I said some stupid shit. I know you love me, and if there’s anyone who needs to explain it’s me,” He knew his words alone would equate to a band-aid on an open wound, and so he slowly proceeded in your direction, his fingers twitching before he rested them lightly on your hips, guiding your back to align with his chest. “Don’t go. Please.” His whispered pleads were followed by a gentle kiss that was applied to the area behind your ear. The gesture ignited a fire in your chest, one that began melting away the rage that was clouding you.

“Listen to me,” With an intake of breath for courage, you adjusted yourself to face him. “I’ll be anything you need me to be, but I will not be your punching bag. You don’t get to question me when it’s my heart on the line.” Your heavy eyelashes fluttered up at him as you squinted just a tad, challenging him to even try to dispute your words.

But he knew better by now.

“I know. I’m sorry. Please.” Slipping an arm around your waist, your frame was ushered to his as a small kiss was placed against your lips. “I don’t need you to be anything but my wife.” His response prompted your heart to complete a flip, and for once you hated yourself for loving him more than life itself.

But when his mouth returned to yours, urging you to forget the accusations that were made against your character – your loyalty, you did. At least for the night.

Let’s do it again, shall we -  Freudian projection

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: if this hurt just wait lol. 

Taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @iloveanime691 @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @sadkaashistan @seikamuzu @namyari @toaster-stick @shakiraisawesome @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden @nerdynstoned @kenmasgameboy @tiooo

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: imagine if Xiao Xingchen could see what Song Lan was seeing after the eye transfer. Like the visual input went to both their brains... Ps! I love your writing!!

Song Lan knew himself to be a fool, and an ungrateful one.

He’d lost his entire family, the entire Baixue temple that had taken him in as an orphan to teach him all he knew, at Xue Yang’s hands – not just Xue Yang, but whoever was behind him, egging him on. His master had conveyed as much as he’d died in his hands: Xue Yang had done the work, yes, but as hired help, looking horribly bored even as he committed atrocities and only looking even mildly interested when he announced the supposed ‘motive’ behind it.

And yet Song Lan hadn’t listened. Beside himself with grief, with pain, with the loss of his temple, the loss of his eyes, he’d lashed out against his best friend, blaming him for the misfortune – if you hadn’t insisted on going after him, on finding justice for the Chang clan, then he wouldn’t have come here, he would have picked someone else, it’s your fault. Harsh words, vicious words, words he shouldn’t have spoken, and especially not to Xiao Xingchen, who didn’t quite understand the way the world worked.

The way emotions worked – how humans could say one thing one day, and believe another the next.

And now, Song Lan was forced to hunt down the real culprit behind the destruction of his Baixue temple alone, all while searching desperately for his friend – wanting to apologize, to beg forgiveness – and all the while Xiao Xingcheng…

Song Lan had to stop along the road to bury his face in his hands, in grief – 

Grief, and frustration.

Xiao Xingchen just had to find the least remarkable place in the entire world to settle in, didn’t he?

Song Lan knew he had, because Xiao Xingchen had given him his eyes, and Xiao Xingchen’s eyes were –

It wasn’t that Song Lan didn’t know that Xiao Xingchen had descended from Baoshan Sanren’s celestial mountain, armed with a sword and a horsetail whip and a mission to help people find justice. He’d been lucky enough to be the first person Xiao Xingchen met, after all, and he’d been helping him understand some of the nuances of the common world ever since – often things that most people should have known, but which apparently weren’t that common on celestial mountains.

It was only that Song Lan hadn’t realized that Xiao Xingchen’s differences from the common world were not merely experience, but also – physical.

His eyes, for one. 

Apparently, Xiao Xingcheng had two sets of eyelids: one external, the normal ones that everyone saw, and one internal – as far as Song Lan could tell, now that Xiao Xingchen’s eyes were his, it mostly functioned to keep dust out of his eyes or to make it easier to see through mist. His pupils, too, were unusual: they could resize themselves as appropriate to deal with the dark, and now Song Lan understood why Xiao Xingchen never tripped over anything even when they had traveled in the darkest parts of the night.

The most important aspect, though, was the fact that they were still connected.

Now that Xiao Xingchen's eyes were his own, Song Lan could see what was in front of him, yes, but he could also see – somehow – what was in front of Xiao Xingchen, and it should have made it easier to find him, but somehow it didn’t.

It just made the need to find him all the more desperate.

When Song Lan first opened his eyes and saw the translucent form of Xue Yang, smirking up at him, he panicked. Translucent meant that it was Xiao Xingchen who was seeing him, and that meant Xiao Xingchen was in terrible danger. Oh, Xue Yang might be too injured to do anything at first, but Song Lan watched as his wounds slowly healed, the way he started to offer to help with things, the way he –

Those poor people.

And poor Xiao Xingchen, too!

After the first “night-hunt”, Song Lan bought some paper and wrote the words, “Your guest is Xue Yang and he is deceiving you” on it, then settled down in meditation to stare at the words until they felt as though they were imprinted on the back of his eyes, hoping against hope that the eyes would work in reverse, that he could convey the much-needed message to Xiao Xingchen.

It didn’t work.

Or, rather, it did – Xue Yang’s ghostly form, reflecting off of the remains of Xiao Xingchen’s optical nerve even through the thin cloth he used as a bandage, came up to him.

“Daozhang, why are you rubbing your eyes so much?” his lips said, forming the words so precisely that Song Lan could very nearly imagine hearing his voice. “Are you in pain?”

He couldn’t heard Xiao Xingchen’s response, of course, and he couldn’t see it, either, but Xue Yang was a remarkably responsive figure.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Daozhang. If you’re sure you want to ignore it, I know you can.”

That was about when Song Lan had given up, because he, too, knew Xiao Xingcheng too well: his friend was stubborn to the ends of the earth, when he thought it was called for, and he must have known – as Song Lan did not – what were the consequences of giving up his eyes.

He was deliberately ignoring the input from Song Lan’s eyes. Very likely in a misguided attempt to give him privacy.

Song Lan wanted to scream.

It had been about what he deserved, though, for having rejected Xiao Xingchen the way he did: now he had to watch, to be tortured by watching, as Xiao Xingchen was led around by the nose by a vicious and cruel Xue Yang, forced to bloody his hands, all unknowing, all while thinking he was doing good. It was enough to make Song Lan weep, and to fear the day that Xue Yang lost interest in this game – the day when Xue Yang had enough, and the last ghostly image he would see would be the bastard’s sword raised up over Xiao Xingchen’s unwary head…

It didn’t turn out like that, though.

Xue Yang the murderer, the irredeemable – he stopped on his own.

Song Lan knew why, probably before Xue Yang himself did. He recognized the way Xue Yang’s eyes softened when he looked at Xiao Xingchen, the eager way he ran to him, the smile that involuntarily appeared on his face when he did something that pleased him – a happy smile, nothing like the cruel smirks from before.

Song Lan recognized it, because he’d seen the same in himself.

Xue Yang was in love.

How could he not be? Xiao Xingchen was kind, gentle, righteous – he was born to be loved, not tormented. Little by little, he crept even into Xue Yang’s barren heart, and found a way to make his home there, just as they had made their home in the little coffin house that looked the same in every town that Song Lan visited on his desperate quest to find them.

And little by little Xue Yang put down his guard, and started sharing stories…

The one that affected Xiao Xingchen the most was the one about the little boy, with his love for candy – Song Lan knew that, seeing as he did Xiao Xingchen finding candy to leave every day on Xue Yang’s pillow. Probably with a secret little smile, wanting only to make his friend happy.

The ones that affected Song Lan the most, though, were the ones about cultivation. About where Xue Yang had learned it, and how.

Xiao Xingchen had been so pure and good, so upset about the fate of his shijie’s son, that he’d never really picked up the nuances of how demonic cultivation worked or what it did, how it damaged the temperament and corrupted the mind, but Song Lan knew.

Song Lan knew how to do math, too. 

Xue Yang would have been little more than that stupid child who’d lost his finger as a result of his love of sweets when his first teacher found him – it might even have been immediately afterwards, when he was wounded and in pain and vulnerable, given some of the comments Xue Yang made about how he’d been stupid to follow the first person who offered him revenge.

That first man had had vile intentions. He’d taught Xue Yang demonic cultivation the way a farmer fed a pig: in order to raise him into a tool for his own cultivation. He hadn’t expected that when Xue Yang was still only eleven, he was already such a delinquent that he’d pick up a knife and murder his own teacher when that teacher tried to hurt him – Xue Yang had never gone into exactly what type of hurt, never even officially confirmed that he’d done the murder, merely that he’d broken paths with his first teacher when the teaching methods were too painful and that the teacher had died shortly thereafter, but who didn’t know about the dark history of the delinquent of Kuizhou?

Song Lan had known about the murder, long suspected by the citizens of Kuizhou but never proven, but he hadn’t known why.

Just as he had known that the Jin sect had recruited Xue Yang shortly after he became famous, but hadn’t known that it was specifically to try to recreate the Yiling Patriarch’s techniques, or that they’d given him as many cultivators as he wished to practice on…

Xiao Xingchen probably thought Xue Yang’s references to test subjects referred to practice dummies, and his references to “breaking” them “too often” as the harmless actions of a child.

Because Xue Yang would have been a child.

A street child, with no mother to raise him; taught by a demonic cultivator with vile intentions; taken in by the Jin sect at eleven, maybe twelve; raised there until fifteen, and required to do all sorts of dirty things for them as the means of keeping his place –

Had anyone ever taught Xue Yang the slightest scrap of morality?

The Baixue temple believed in justice, but it also believed in mercy – in mercy, and in redemption. As soon as Song Lan found Xiao Xingchen again, he would apologize for what he’d done, what he’d said, and he’d ask him to join him once again in a quest to bring justice to the world: to seek justice for his temple, for his teacher, from the person who had wielded the sword that was Xue Yang.

And as for Xue Yang himself…

Maybe there was something there that could be salvaged.

After all, he responded so well to Xiao Xingchen’s kindness – it’d been nearly three years now, and the vast majority of the time had been lived in peace and quiet. Xue Yang didn’t even threaten passerby merchants in the marketplace with knives anymore.

He didn’t practice demonic cultivation anymore, either. Three years without it, and Song Lan could see – through Xiao Xingchen’s eyes – how much cleaner Xue Yang’s qi was: how the meditation Xiao Xingchen coaxed him into trying actually helped bring it into a semblance of order, how he was belatedly forming a golden core the way a regular cultivator would.

Maybe there was still something left of that stupid street child who’d only wanted to taste something sweet after all.

If he ever found them, Song Lan would have to find out.

He sighed to himself, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He could dream about what they could do together – the three of them, and little A-Qing, too, the clever little blind girl that accompanied Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang both – as much as he liked, but first, he had to find them.

Song Lan glanced at the signpost.

Yi City, with the ‘yi’ for coffin home – what a strange name.

[mittensmorgul]

Unpopular opinion: Portraying Sam and Dean as worthless, incompetent hunters who learned nothing from their father's training or a lifetime of hunting bc it was all God is disrespecful as hell. Sam and Dean are--well, were, I guess--heroes who stood up to monsters, angels and demons as ordinary people. Tonight destroyed all of that.

I mean, I’d agree with you, if I thought that was actually what the show had done. Sam and Dean currently BELIEVE that, and are making choices based on that assumption, but is it actually true?

I can’t believe it is. I think they’ve made an incorrect assumption, and are going to “pay a price” for having made a bad choice based on that belief...

Because we’ve been shown that’s how Chuck arranges things. That’s how he “tells his stories.”

When in the previous episode, Chuck’s final words to Sam were the statement that Sam had “lost hope,” and the pronouncement that Sam and Dean weren’t the heroes of the story; and when Dean stood up to him and said he and Sam would never “perform” the story Chuck wanted to see them act out (like “all the other Sams and Deans” eventually did in all his other universes), it was like they’d thrown down a gauntlet for him. Dean PUNCHED CHUCK IN THE FACE. That was the gauntlet-slap.

To me, this episode felt like Chuck’s petty (and rather crackpot) attempt to manipulate them into believing that this is what they truly are without his Divine Cosmic Help, and honestly, THAT is what I am calling bullshit on. The show is practically BEGGING us to see that.

I mean, if Dean had had ONE cavity, I could buy it was just bad luck. If Baby had ONE bad spark plug, I could buy it was just a normal sort of problem that normal people face. But the sheer number of failures they experienced went so far beyond “normal” as to be cartoonish. No normal person has EVER had a day like that. But the fact that Sam and Dean were so willing to BELIEVE it, even after Dean had been convinced at the beginning of the episode that they were CURSED... he let Sam (and Garth, and Bess) talk him OUT of that conviction.

Dean: No. No, no, no. This is -- this is more than just a no good very bad day, okay? Chuck must have boned us before He left, you know. Or maybe some of that crap you brought back from Rowena's went sideways. Because this. This is not normal.

But by the end of the episode, Dean was beginning to believe that this was very much their “new normal.” To the point where he’s willing to drive to Alaska and pay whatever price to get back their “lost luck.” And honestly, THAT WAS THE POINT. It’s shaken DEAN’S WILL, his BELIEF IN HIMSELF. Which is pretty much the ONLY weapon he had against Chuck in the first place.

Honestly, to me, the thing that convinced me that they were actively being hindered (i.e. that Chuck was actively working to PREVENT them from succeeding at anything on their own) was the fact that not even their reputation as The Winchesters was worth anything to the monster fighty dude. Not even the vast over-preparedness they went into that warehouse with was enough to give them ANY sort of advantage.

They weren’t “normal,” they were DOOMED TO FAIL, because Chuck was proving a point. A point they willingly bought into, despite the overwhelming evidence that they were being specifically held back from succeeding, at anything.

They’re still struggling to understand exactly how Chuck is capable of interfering with their lives. And while I appreciate Dean admitting that their choices have been their own, and not everything about their lives was down to Chuck, the fact that he let himself be talked out of the conviction that Chuck “boned” them before leaving (lol as if Chuck would leave NOW, when things just began to get interesting for him again, just when he’s untethered himself from Sam and can finally “see” the Winchesters again) means he’s still subject to Chuck’s terrible plot...

So I agree with you. If that had been the point of the episode, it would’ve been a bunch of bullshit. If the episode hadn’t included all the references to all the “we are literally actually cursed” episodes, and all the “we are directly being manipulated by cosmic forces” episodes... I mean...

literally actually cursed:

3.03 Bad Day At Black Rock: The rabbits foot gave them ACTUAL GOOD LUCK. Their good luck was so entirely OTT that Dean joked he was Batman. They easily identified it as ridiculous levels of good luck. Until they lost the foot (because EVERYONE loses the foot, it’s part of the CURSE). Their luck didn’t go back to normal, it went cosmically, horribly BAD. So bad, Bobby told them, “you’re dead within a week.” Because that was how the curse worked. Their entire lives haven’t been “lucky.” And Dean would normally be the first person to admit that. His first instinct in this episode was to wonder if he’d been subjected to a similar curse because of how comically bad his luck had turned.

5.08 Changing Channels: the first clue was all the “Seriously? SERIOUSLY?” stuff at the beginning. I was half expecting Sam to get slapped in the face and called a “brilliant coward.” But we even got a NUTCRACKER! callback, only this time it was Dean that took the shot to the crotch... Not just the comic gags of the episode, though, but the Bigger Plot of how and why they were being put through all those tv shows, being forced to LEARN A LESSON, of Gabriel messing with them and pushing them into PLAYING THEIR ROLES, and ACCEPTING THEIR DESTINY.  Please tell me that’s not EXACTLY the lesson Chuck would want them to learn after 15.09.

3.11 Mystery Spot: or that one where NOTHING Sam did, no matter how many chances he was given to replay that day, could’ve saved Dean. Sam was nerfed. Effectively rendered powerless against the story, and in the “dark half” of the episode was driven on a misguided revenge quest against the Trickster. Sam couldn’t even begin to see the bigger picture, and believed that just because he’d broken free of the “time loop” that he was actually engaging with reality, that Dean was actually perma-dead, and had isolated himself from all his friends and gone off the rails in his single-minded trek to hunt down the monster that had done this to him... all the while he was focused on the wrong thing and was still trapped in the “make-believe scenario” Gabriel had established for him. Because, golly, that sounds like the exact spot they’re in RIGHT NOW, having been convinced that their run of bad luck is the direct result of Chuck NOT interfering in their lives, casting them as the “heroes” of his story. And I don’t believe that’s what has happened, at all. I believe Chuck is more focused on them, directly, than he ever has been before.

Heck, I wrote this post before the episode aired, and I stand by it 100%:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/190429024710/episodes-i-expect-1510-to-remind-me-of-based-on

Because Sam and Dean haven’t had “hero status” stripped from them. Chuck is WAY too petty to just “give up the story” and render his main characters inept all of a sudden. Sam and Dean are still “his guys.” They’re still the main characters of an obsessive writer who’s directly fighting against their will. This is like... the inverse of 4.18, where Chuck “wrote himself into the story.” This is his reaction to his characters declared intent to “write themselves OUT of his story,” to DEFY his story. This is Chuck’s idea of petty revenge for using their free will against him.

In that context, the context of the larger arc of s15, this is like... textbook illustration of how Chuck has been grinding down their will, pushing them to make Terrible Choices against their own better judgment, because that’s where he wanted the story to go. I think we need to keep that in mind, that the story ITSELF is the big bad, and Chuck’s just had all his powers restored to him. Assuming he wouldn’t immediately put those powers to their full use at his first available opportunity is just... daffy.

Dabb has been writing Looney Tunes since 8.08. I’ve been writing Looney Tunes meta since at least as far back as s11:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/144577425855/chuck-amuck

I will point to the WB cartoon that I believe Dabb has been framing Chuck’s character around all along: Duck Amuck (I’ve embedded other versions on tumblr before, but they always get taken down because copyright... so have a link to where you can watch it... I swear it’s worth the time: https://dai.ly/x5yczh1

And this is what Chuck is trying to convince Sam and Dean is their current situation:

when what they need to recognize, and what Chuck DESPERATELY needs them to keep them from realizing, as long as he can continue pushing them to “we had no other choice” scenarios and distract them from just rejecting his story entirely, is this: