#she makes me sad she deserved so much better

[zepskies]

So much angst in this one, right? 😅

the fact that this is how he sees their story, yet he's still chosen to be a dirty lying no good scoundrel really grinds my gears. like he needed to forget his name? I could smack him with a frying pan rapunzel style for the same effect lol

IKR? Piece of shit for real. lol I condone the Rapunzel treatment. 🍳

my immediate thought was well try harder 😭 and i did feel bad for a second, then I finished the chapter…i stand by my statement 😅

lolllll I don't blame you for that instinct honestly. He's not showing us that he deserved even an ounce of his wife saving his life and staying by his side.

so real lmaoo her inner conflict tugged at my heartstrings, i'm just glad she's giving herself some grace at least <3 it’s a difficult situation all around the flowers!!! 😩 oh dean :( and michael is truly a classic douche like sir you cannot just magically make it better with some flowers and dinner 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Haha Dean certainly gave her a reason to smile. 😏

Yeah she has to work through the complicated cobwebs of this situation in her mind and in her heart, poor thing. 💙 Same thing for Dean too with those flowers, especially when he runs into Michael. Exactly his point too! 😮‍💨

it’s bad enough he’s sleeping with a floozy on the regular but to take his wife’s money as well to fund that is actually beyond ballsy and insane. i hate them, justice for my girl fr 🫶🏽:(

RIGHT?! That would've sent me into contemplating murder loll.

ngl I had to put my phone down for a moment and yell into a pillow because dean, what the hell man 😩

LOL you kinda wanna choke the shit outta him, don't you? (not in the good way) 😝

oh dean, getting stabbed would’ve probably hurt less

lmfao facttts. Dean was not his best here, but yes at least he didn't let her stew in this misery and actually apologized and tried to comfort her, even if it was a bittersweet goodbye. 🥲

oh they’d work on me for sure 😭

Oh SAMe. 🥺

my heart aches, this chapter was so sad 😩 (not in a bad way!!🫶🏽) I feel for all three of them 😔🤍

I warned you guys about the heartbreak in this chapter. 🤭 I'm so sorry to do this to you, hun, but I promise there's a happy ending in store here 💙💙💙

ahhhhhh the cliffhanger! i’m guessing he found something illegal and/or dangerous 🤔 the preview is making me anxiousss, he better not hurt her! 😩

Big cliffhanger, again I'm so sorry! loll But you're getting very warm...

this was a wonderful chapter, very excited to see the drama unfold!!💗💗

Thank you so much, friend!! I'm very glad you enjoyed it despite all the heartbreak, but I can't wait to bring you guys the grand finale next week! 🥰💕

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

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Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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[dr9com9ge-ix]

Apparently Sprunki is getting a remaster and Nyanio has said that that they'll be replacing Wenda bc she's the worst of the content farms

Thoughts? Both in general and related to the AU

oh god, Okay opinion time. It’s a long one folks… It’s gonna get maybe a bit emotional and please don’t take my word as gospel or something, Have opinions please! I also use “you” alot when I’m not referring to any specific person/ when I refer to a general person so apologies if I sound accusatory or anything- It’s a habit of speech.

Okay actual stuff under the cut.

Dude can do what he wants, I already know of this news and choice (Honestly I really try not to think about it because it bums me out), The choice to abandon her is understandable considering like… The horrible content that has been made of her and not wanting to use the character anymore. I do despise content farms and what they do to media in general (I used to watch people discuss how bad they’ve gotten in recent years— MAN I also like TADC so I’VE BEEN THROUGH THE WRINGER TWICE MAN. It kind of hurts to see Sprunki so often in them that I stopped watching videos regarding dissing content farms.)

I kind of understand (Though heavily disagree with)people watching some of it in Sprunki’s case because of the lack of story driven media if you only focus on content on YouTube. I’ve tried watching like… I think GameToon’s Sprunki and just was like “Man… These characters deserve so much better than this, I’VE SEEN BETTER DONE WITH THESE CHARACTERS!!! ON TUMBLR!!!” and not to mention them literally stealing OCs and me not having the mental fortitude to handle like… How content farmed content’s tone usually is.

(I WILL REITERATE, I do not think you are a bad person if you watch GameToon’s content and like it-

I just do not like what content farms do in general for a media’s reputation and search results. ESPECIALLY REGARDING SPRUNKI as the creator was literally DOXXED over it as far as I know. Nobody deserves that for just creating things. It’s frustrating and heartbreaking when it happens.

Though watching farms does unfortunately support them and thus they make more and more usually low tier, low brow and if I’m being a pretentious artist… Heartless content. Made for a profit off of something they don’t actually like as much as who they’re targeting. If they did care they wouldn’t have taken other people’s ocs. They would have been consistent with characterization and themes—SHIT They’d probably try to have the SAME VAS for some characters!!!! I only watched some of it solely because someone on the sprunki tag said they gave Jevin a “hot voice” and I ALSO HATE HOW THEY MAKE HIM A VILLAIN A MAJORITY OF THE TIME AS FAR AS I’VE SEEN.)

Actually the whole horrible thing that happened to the creator and a video discussing it is how I got into Sprunki- I felt terrible and went “Why don’t I give into the impulse to draw something from this? I’m sure making something nice of it will be better than… Whatever horrors get spat out for ad revenue.” and I did! I think I do have a kind of underdog bias with a comment under one of the most popular mixes with the original mod going “Why they never use the blue one? :(“ or something so Jevin became my favorite and first to be drawn- With the rest following because I’d genuinely gotten so attached to all these funky little guys!

And regarding Wenda in my AU? She’s not going anywhere.

I would understand if the creator went “Please stop using her in anything.” I would respect that wish (albeit tearfully) but he didn’t he just told people to behave- Not act a fool and such which I don’t think making an AU is that…. It’s just making your take on a media you like as a fan. I’ve already like… Pack bonded with the OG characters and WENDA INCLUDED. I have so much planned for her she’s too important to it and also I think one of my friends would probably get really sad if I ever did just scrap her. I truly just want justice to be done for her (aka GOOD MEDIA THAT CARES ABOUT IT’S CHARACTERS) because I think she’s probably one of the potentially most interesting of the OG bunch if you take away any outside media (Like questions of “why did she do what she did in Horror mode?”, “How was she like previously? Was it a sudden snap or something a long time coming?”) and I think any answer to it is interesting!

I also kind of hate the reductive take of “Too many people do this interpretation of [character], I hate it now!! I’m doing a different one!” I see sometimes so I don’t want to hear about that, Sometimes that’s just the natural assumptions one would make about THE SAME CHARACTERS IN A MEDIA… And that’s an entirely different gripe unrelated to this! Like shush… There are fans of that interpretation and I’d rather you make yours WITHOUT disrespecting other’s interps.

Anyways summary is:

DO WHAT YOU WANT FOREVER!!!!! (as LONG AS YOU AREN’T HURTING/DISRESPECTING PEOPLE!!!!) Love your medias!! Make your arts!! And Sunshine Suburbia! Wenda is staying because… I love her too much. c,: And again DO WHAT YOU WANT FOREVER!!!!

[s1lly-gh02tz]

Random stuff from today + my unfinished Fiddauthor snow men 👅

[sysig]

Wuh oh (Patreon)

Bonus:

The novel experience of being crushed by a giant rock, a visual metaphor

[spilling-my-guts-to-you-guyss]

Broooo i js watched the mouthwashing gameplay

I see why yall going crazy

Oh my Lord i did not see any of that coming

I'm literally Anya, when she killed herself i mentally broke down on my God-

Fuck Jimmy

Please excuse my while i cry my fucking eyeballs out

[novelconcepts]

Do you ever just lay awake at night, turning over in your head the stark difference in delivery between Hewson's Van saying--steadily, unshakably--"it's just something that's happening to you...happening to us" and Cypress' Taissa saying--imploringly, whiningly--"this was not just my dream, this was our dream"?

Do you ever just turn it over and over, how often Tai tried to scare Van away, and how it only made Van set her feet more firmly? How Taissa's first love was this person who saw a problem fall into Taissa's lap, a problem that was quite literally trapped inside Taissa's body, and decided unflinchingly: No, that's an us problem now? How she refused point-blank to walk away even with blood in her mouth, how she flatly informed Tai "I'm never gonna be scared of you", and promptly turned a moment of pain into a declaration of love? And how this would etch itself into Taissa for the rest of her life? How she'd take these things that worked with Van--with the person Van was, with the bond they shared--and try so hard to run through an identical script with Simone?

Except Simone is her own person. A completely different kind of person. A person who hasn't been offered any of the context, any of the realities going on inside Taissa. So: naturally she doesn't respond the way Van did at eighteen--and will go on to do all over again in her forties. Naturally, she hears our dream as the excuse it is, not as a plea for connection. Naturally, she is scared away when Taissa pushes, and shouts, and begs. Because there isn't blood in her mouth, not yet, but there will be. And they have a son to worry about. And she isn't eighteen and a special kind of immortal, a special kind of romanticized. She's a grown woman with responsibilities, with priorities, with an understanding that you can't fix someone just because you love them. And Tai can't just perform a revival of the play she and Van had memorized twenty-five years later with a whole new performer in the works, and expect it to shake out the same.

Of course it doesn't work. But look at Taissa trying it. Look at Taissa trying to reframe her first love through a new lens. Trying to recast it. Trying to play it through again. Van taught her love was sticking out the blood, shaking off the pain, making a you problem into an us problem. Does it ever just eat at you, how tragic it is, watching Taissa try to shape her marriage around a woman who isn't even wearing a ring?

[theboyanachr0nism]

i love you carrie i'm sorry about the world

details:

[quixtrix]

god save our women; a ramble of an analysis

or, captain laserhawk REALLY shot jade in the face and im still upset about it because oh my GOD they really made her be thrown into a role that is not HER and in death she's still a Figure. yknow, i personally don't have a problem with sarah x jade, but over the past few months occasionally i'd think about it. yeah, it's funny to call sarah gay as hell for putting jade in a femme fatale outfit, but. should that truly be our basis for the ship? or should we think a bit deeper on why exactly sarah would put the sole woman in her lil tool set into such a position? i wonder why it wouldn't hurt to think about why jade would be forced into a role where one has to be sexual.

sarah is an extent of eden and eden is society and society will occasionally harp an odd sort of something masquerading as feminism to you that being sexual gives you power! but really it only serves to loop back into being for the man's enjoyment.

now i have to say that being sexual can be empowering! it really is! we just also have to acknowledge that in the eyes of society, sex is an exchange where it serves the man more than it does the woman. it still feels good to be sexual though, and being sexual can be used right for what you want.

but when it comes to jade, jade is forced to fall into this femme fatale role, this role that demands one to be a maneater, when she usually sticks to a more impersonal way of work. in this role, she dresses in clothes that she's not comfortable with wearing, when told to change from her usual outfit she is visibly uncomfortable, and overall it doesn't fit her.

she is not a sexual person. she does not typically utilise sexuality as a tool in her arsenal, she doesn't even seem to really touch it (or she's just insanely bad at flirting). either way, she's not used to being in this position because she does not choose to be in this position often.

anyways, why does sarah think to put the woman in a position where she would have to step out of her comfort zone? because obviously, she uses things and positions as tools, and sexuality is a tool.

now i want yall to bear with me as i compare sarah to another woman in media; makima. no im not calling sarah some god awful dommy mommy or some shit, i'm bringing in makima to highlight how sexuality is used. she uses her sexuality as a woman to entice this young boy into doing things for her, ranging from a kiss to assaulting him and telling him that she'll give him more as a reward. while not inherently sexual, she offers up a date with her to encourage the devil hybrids under her control. she even offers up a kiss at one point to encourage competition. makima, someone raised by the government and given tools that she uses to manipulate others, has sexuality in her arsenal. it is not a stretch to say that sarah, someone who has intimate understanding of the government, the ladder she climbs, has seen others use sexuality as a tool. hell, it might even be encouraged to use it as a tool. i'm absolutely not saying that sarah fucked her way to the top, im saying that sarah is aware that sexuality is a tool that one can use.

now we all know how sarah got to the top, which can be reasonably assumed to be through military rank and impersonal ways. ways that don't require one to lower your guard and take you in before they strike, like a femme fatale way would. sarah most likely got through to the top by using people and throwing just enough weight around. so why does she not allow jade to flourish in a way that honestly would benefit the team way better yeah no its because she sees her as a fucking tool in order to recognise jade's real talents she must first let go of the notion that she is a simple tool and accept that as a human she has legitimate strengths in unique areas and not just one where you can remind them who is in charge and how you are a tool and FUCK EDEN AND THEIR FUCKING TOOL MINDSET FUCKING CAPITALIST MINDSET IN A SO CALLED POST CAPITALISTIC SOCIETY!!!!! okay im getting a lil heated but yknow what let's continue FUCK PEY'J LOOK AT THIS SHIT

IM SO SORRY BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL FANS THEY DID YOU SO WRONG BECAUSE THEY WANTED TO FUCKING HAMMER IN THE IDEA OF JADE BEING A FIGURE AND NOT A PERSON EVEN IN DEATH SHE IS BOILED DOWN TO SOME FUCKASS WHO KNEW HER AS A BABY'S LOVE INTEREST AND I KNOW FOR A FACT THEY DID YALL WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! they did yall so wrong my god. my god !! imagine! someone who knew you as a BABY openly admitted to you when you were a young adult in your 20s that he has feelings for you! what the hell! what purpose does this serve than to cement the idea that jade is a tool, a motive? jade, a goddamn REPORTER tryna spread light on a legitimate issue on society and then gets thrown into the Ghosts because of it, is boiled down to a tool. a fucking tool by both sarah and pey'j, TWO PEOPLE WHO ARE SEEN by both show and fandom AS POSSIBLE LOVE INTERESTS FOR JADE.

SHE LITERALLY COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE IF SARAH DID SEE HER AS HUMAN AND DID UTILISE HER ACTUAL TALENTS INSTEAD OF SEEING HER AS A TOOL AND FOR THAT JADE IS UNFORTUNATELY NOT SEEN AS A PERSON, BUT AS A FIGURE.

but yknow what. yknow who also has been seen as a figure and not a person.

dolph laserhawk. eden's child soldier that they raised as a paragon of hope fallen into disgrace.

yknow what also happens with dolph and jade? they treat each other as human. jade includes dolph in her lil vlogs as she does with the rest of the team, because she is a good person. dolph recognises that she is indeed a person, someone worth remembering as themselves. not as who she was to someone, but as someone who went out of her way to offer kindness. she gets a goddamn speaking role in his vr dream alongside alex, who yes groomed him, but he also made dolph feel human.

i didnt even realise it before that they put the only two people (that are. dead. bullfrog is not here for obvious reasons) that have made dolph feel human and not an extension of eden in one frame BUT THYE FUCKING DID. these mfs and dolph are basically real recognises real

this isn't about dolph though, this is about jade. jade, who didn't get to be shown to the world as a person, who posthumously became a figure for a man's revenge, who was put into a position she is not suited for because she was not recognised as human. jade, who is the most human out of the ghosts, who gave voice to those that couldn't through her work, who went into exposing pagan min because of her uncle, her family that she loved. for being the most grounded member, they had to kill you because you mattered so much. kept the team together through kindness. god they did you so wrong jade.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the last unicorn post from earlier has me thinking about the master. that yana is still in there, you know? is still someone he was, if even for a brief flash across the life of a time lord. there’s no way to unlive that life. there are ways to twist it later, sure, to make utopia into hell on earth. but the life was lived. in much the same way that the doctor can remember, can feel, the love he held onto as john smith even as that life is ripped out of his hands. the doctor choose denial and then grief and then to shutter it all away. and so john smith died, and so professor yana died, and the doctor and the master live on. the doctor has done this before, and he lives in orbit around humanity, trying to keep the best parts of them and hold them deep enough to take root (which he can pretend he gets to choose, as a time lord. as a human, it all floods in and can’t be dug back out.) but what about the master, right?

to borrow a turn of phrase: i think there are two time lords left in the universe, and they both learned how to regret.

[funfettidoc]

best teen titan dont argue with me!! (Feel free to argue actually)

[authenticcadence18]

Society if Steven had brought Bismuth back before the Rupphire wedding:

[jessmalia]

So you're telling me that Katherine's last act was to give up the life she'd been running, fighting, lying and killing for for 500 years so that she could apologize to her daughter and be with her as she dies, giving her a dream of the life she deserved so that she could go out in peace, and the writers rewarded that by literally introducing hell into their universe just so they could put her in it?

[thesmokinpossum]

when i tell you my jaw hit the fucking floor at this scene...

[whitestopper]

I feel like a lot of people saying Mariam was right in sending the text that lead to Layan's murder ignore two important things.

1) She was planning on giving up on revenge before. She just wanted to switch schools and have a fresh start (though I question how this could turn out if word had spread between schools).

2) She was moving her finger to send the text and then she moved it back. She was hesitating, grappling with the gravity of what she was about to do, and I don't doubt that there was a part of her that didn't want to do it.

Who's to say that after what they learned, Layan's parents wouldn't have isolated her like Ruqayya's parents? Or beaten her like Rania's father? Honestly, Mariam's revenge could've stopped as soon as she exposed Layan bunking off school. And in the end, does Mariam really get any catharsis? Sure, she smirks when she sees her plan come to fruition, but she never gets to wind down or breathe - she's still in fight mode, not at peace.

[quirkle2]

as a huge spyro year of the dragon fan i Hate the reignited trilogy they took all the charm and nostalgia out of it BUT ... spyro's walking/running animation ? they perfected that.

[butchlifeguard]

i mean i think we have to break up before christmas or so which is gonna be really embarrassing but its gonna avert the mutual emotional devastation that would be happening in early may