#so also is being burdened by being a fuckass

[princessnijireiki]

unfortunately, being burdened by excellence is real

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 165 spoilers and thoughts below the cut that im not terribly late on this time yippee!

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what if i went up to you and stared at you like this

HAHAHAHAHAAA I LOVE THIS PANEL SO SO MUCH

ive been sending this on like all my socmeds and to all my mutuals/irls. im tormenting them with it it's just so fucking cute and silly . puppy dog eyes javier. pleading emoji. he's just so fucking silly ALKJDFLSDKF HELL I MADE IT MY DISCORD PFP ITS SO GOOFY I LOVE IT SM HAHAHA CUTE CUTE CUTE

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHA

silly panels aside back to the top!

lloyd. stop hurting me oh god he looks so tired and gaunt and,,, lifeless. it HURTS seeing him like this, the life he once had just,,, stripped from him.

LIKE I WANTED TO SEE HIM WITH HIS HAIR DOWN AND MESSY BUT NOT LIKE THIS BRUH WHAT THE HELL SOB SOB SOB

the invitation oh my god. its so silly goofy but also so so personal its cute as hell its stupid looking but in the most affectionate way possible. the people of the estate really REALLY care about him and god idek if lloyd realizes that bc literally just after this, he apologizes to everyone for not being able to things for them anymore

not even able to get back up to get back to the bed GOD I FEEL SICK

but it doesnt matter anymore whether or not lloyd can still protect them, the estate has come to care for him so much , its not his protection they want they just fucking love him and he doesnt realize that i feel so fucking ill. lloyd i need you to open your eyes and look at this beautiful land, this beautiful home you've built with your own two hands. ITS NOT OVER YET PLEASE GOD ITS NOT OVER

and then lloyd without second thought chooses javier to live. because he really thinks hes just an extra getting in the way, a burden, a bug that shouldnt be there. so he thinks its fine if he, as a side character, is the one that dies SOMEONE PUNCH ME.

he looks so fucking SMALL. alone and in the dark IM GONNA EXPLODE INTO TEN BILLION PIECES. who wrote this fuckass program. SWEAR TO GOD IM COMIN DOWN TO FIX IT MYSELF GOD DAMMIT

AND THEN THE SYSTEM TEXTBOX COMING IN IM SO GRATEFUL PLEASE HELP HIM SOB SOB SOB

im super duper heartwarmed to see that whoever is running the blue textbox is on suho's side. it has never been impartial, huh,,, it just wants to see his wish come true. ooogh my heart.

lloyd looks,,, strangely peaceful here. is he like, paused rn? im not really sure what the system box is up to, but hopefully thisll delay anything from happening while javier is concocting his plan,,,

speaking of!

FATE KICKING IN LIKE TEN TIMES WORSE IS SO DAMN SCARY. THE MULTIPLE GIGATITANS OH GODDD im so fucking terrified. javier please hurry!!! he looks rlly cool on draggy here hehe

I THINK JAVIER AND ALICIAS EXCHANGE TOO IS SO FUCKING HILARIOUS. alicia, upon only seeing javier, immediately is suspicious of lloyd scheming something. she thinks the two of them are plotting again, hence the "what are you up to".

the problem is that it's just javier on this plan. there is no lloyd directing him, so javiers reaction is SO silly fun bc i. dont think he thinks of himself as being. scheming?? bc he seems SO confused at alicia's skepticism here HADLFKJSDLFKJ ITS SO FUNNY

I REALLY THINK JAVIER WAS GENUINELY A LITTLE CONFUSED AS TO WHY ALICIA WAS QUESTIONING HIM PLEAAASEEE

i think javier believes he's just going about business as usual. doing what he can to protect his lord, as he does, all the time, the usual. sure that involves getting an angel to ask the queen for the eye of summer, but that's certainly not plotting on the same scale that lloyd does. javier isnt a schemer. he just does whats necessary to protect the one he cares about the most. hence his goofy innocent puppy eyes, because its not like hes "up" to anything. idk how accurate this assessment is, so pls correct me if im wrong, but I LOVE IT A LOT HES JUST SO FUCKING DEDICATED I LOVE U JAVIER MVP!!!!!

and then raphie shows up yay!! EXCEPT HELP WHY DID HE GET SUCKED BACK IMMEDIATELY WHAT THE HELL he was so underprepared. poor guy. getting thrown around like this sob sob

ALICIA ASKING IF THIS IS SMTH JAVIER KNEW ABT OR IF THEY WERE PLANNING SOMETHING AND THEN JAVIER BEING GENUINELY FUCKING SHOCKED HELP MEEEE "maybe its not a prank...?" LMFAOOOOO

i mentioned this in the last ep post but like. again javier wears his heart on his sleeve he's so fucking protagonist its unreal. hell, not even on his sleeve, he has his heart out on his damn palm sob sob

i think he's shocked here bc he didnt expect raphaels call to play out like that, he prolly thought theyd issue it more seriously. the issue with this being so half-hearted is now alicia isnt absolutely certain that this is the will of the heavens, so she's less inclined to follow along. it doesnt help that her board of nobles (seriously why does she keep these bozos around they just keep yapping) are arguing back and forth abt whether or not to listen. this is kind of a little wrench in the smoothness of the plan... everything now hinges on alicia's whim now.

anyway two more panels javier being menacing/blunt as hell and alicia thinking on her throne,,, god they are so fucking. awesome i love them so much

anyway that is ALL! for this week! the episode felt a little bit slow to be honest, but i think that's because the events of this ep are little things that build up to whats next, so i dont mind it at all (especially since the last couple of eps have been super fast lately)! i really really enjoy this buildup and im super excited to see what happens next,,,

see yall next week! lloyd please be okay! or ill cry! like for real!

[spaceymarz]

FINAL TWINKLING WATERMELON POST but i just have to say, as much as i fucking loved this show, three main things made me mad

the female characters seemed like an afterthought. Chungah, Sekyoung, and Eunyoo all had such interesting stories and i WISH we spent more time with them. Chungah literally stole everyone's heart immediately and had all the makings of a main character: she's the quiet daughter of an absent but kindhearted rich CEO complete with family, school, and boy drama, and her SON FROM THE FUTURE is there?? but they barely spent any time with her, and her family storyline wrapped up entirely too easily. ntm what even happened to Sekyoung and Eunyoo? Eunyoo basically had TWO moments the entire show where she actually did something that would help Sekyoung, and then we never even got to see Sekyoung in 2023 to see if her life changed. they had ONE scene together in 1995 and it was so fucking good, i wish we saw more of them. there would've been time for them, too, if there wasn't so much time spent on the fuckass love triangle and Yichan flopping at creating the band. PLUS Chungah and Sekyoung's friendship was the cutest thing ever and i miss them 😖

the big lesson Eungyeol spent all his time and effort to learn was... he shouldn't tread his family like a burden? are you fucking kidding me? Eunho could've gotten that through to him in one deep conversation in 2023. it was ridiculously anticlimactic that that's all he learned from that whole experience. i was HOPING he would learn to stop seeing his dad as a pitiful little puppy dog that was wimpering after being shot in the eye, but NO! he spent the entire fucking show obsessing over Yichan's hearing as if his life would be completely ruined once it was gone. i kept waiting for him to finally see deaf Yichan as a HUMAN. it felt like every time he had an eye opening moment that humanized Yichan it was specific to things he didn't do as an adult anymore: he's talking 🥺🥺 he's singing 🥺🥺 he's playing guitar 🥺🥺 that's an 18 year old kid! what about your actual dad?? he also experiences joy and feels emotions and has interests. i wanted him to learn to accept Yichan as he existed without Eungyeol's meddling, but i guess he had to be a cool, wealthy rockstar to have a happy ending for whatever reason.

what the fuck happened to THE BUTTERFLY AFFECT?? i thought it was adoreable that Yichan and Chungah fell in love even in a time before Yichan was deaf, but everything else just pissed me off. no fucking way EVERYTHING that made the structure of their futures sound just happened. Eunyoo was right, Chungah and Yichan would've had kids earlier if they met younger than they were meant to. Eunho and Eungyeol probably wouldn't have existed, and even if they did, NO FUCKING WAY Yichan and Chungah named their son "Ha Eungyeol" after having a friend in their youth who habitually called them mom and dad, and then watched that son grow up to look EXACTLY LIKE that friend and never talked to him about it. ntm the other band members finding him vaguely familiar as if Eungyeol wasn't a band member and a pivotal part of their origin story. and they had pictures together. ouuu this made me so mad

[420technoblazeit]

anyway. masterpost for my thoughts on my spn 8x12 rewatch bc i forgot to liveblog it. this is the one where their grandfather time travels to the future by accident. it's also the introduction of the men of letters and abaddon

funny that sam and dean are still confused about time travel given that theyve BOTH time traveled on more than one occasion at this point. dean's literally traveled into the future and the past. why the fuck are u so confused about this

i ENTIRELY forgot that a cupid ensured that john and mary would get together i love that there's continuity on this

DEAN'S DADDY ISSUES ARE BACK BABEY!!!! AND THIS TIME HE'S PROJECTING THEM ONTO HIS GRANDFATHER LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

the men of letters always going UGH hunters. theyre always shoot first ask questions later what violent morons is so funny bc like. to be fair. the average hunter IS really trigger happy and aggressive. we saw a really good example of that literally like 3 episodes ago. that's a completely fair assessment tbh. sam and dean are supposed to be good hunters and their first instinct was to push henry up against the wall and start yelling at him, hunters suck ass dude

it's such a shame that abaddon ended up being a kind of forgettable big bad bc i remember thinking that her original 50s aesthetic and memory stealing powers were really cool. idk they dropped the ball with her she couldve been really cool

abaddon's introduction here as a knight of hell is TECHNICALLY an expansion of the worldbuilding in terms of hell's hierarchy but i feel like it works here. theyre just below the princes but imbued with some kind of power by lucifer ig? it is a little questionable that they cant be killed by usual demon killing means though. azazel got killed by a fuckass gun and he outranked abaddon but ok i guess

random goth girl at the comic book store u will be missed. sorry ur 'the devil made me do it' shirt was so sick that abaddon killed u for it

i like that they didnt want to put cas in this episode so they were like yeah uhhhhhhhhhhhhh there's just one of his angel feathers in the impala somewhere henry steals it. can you imagine if this guy met cas his brain would fucking explode. can you imagine if they told him they met all the archangels??????? god that's so funny to think about

abaddon looks exactly like how i imagined war good omens when i originally read the book and i stand by that tbh

FIRST USE OF THE DEVIL'S TRAP BULLET LET'S GOOOO. this trick makes no fucking sense with the laws of physics but ykw i dont care it's so fun to me. shoot a demon with a really fucking tiny devil's trap and theyre just like. stuck to the floor. it's hilarious

rip henry u were like. actually wait he was still kind of a shitty dad tbh he was like yeah i was forced into being a men of letters by my father and i felt really burdened by the duty of hunting monsters im really excited to do the same to my son though :} like alright. ok i guess man

[lnkedmyheart]

You just want to watch the world burn, don't you?

The only reason Allura is immune to criticism is because she looks like a black woman. She is extremely racist towards every other race other than her own and has a serious superiority complex that never gets fixed. Her perception of Lotor before and after this villain reveal is evidence that she never grows past her prejudice.

The galra were all broadly painted as horrible people. The few galrans that turn on the empire are treated like rarities. Despite you know, most of the actual people doing bad things being Alteans (Haggar with her obsession with the rift, Lotor with his mother's ambition) and an entire race on a PLANET most likely not sharing the same opinion.

Zarkon got blamed for everything and Haggar got a redemption arc despite Zarkon having good reason behind a lot of his rage. Not only was the rift being experimented on by his Altean wife but his home was destroyed and his entire race was forced into exile by Alfor. But Zarkon was the bad guy because he wanted to save his wife and avenge his home.

Speaking of Alfor, why did he need to make a weapon of mass destruction to take out a few rebel groups anyway? Did anyone ask what the rebels were rebelling against? Because logically I can see a few reasons why they disliked this group of holier than thou fuckass colonisers with a savior complex

Alfor, Allura and Coran embody the white man's burden ideology and no amount of cartoon melanin added to Allura's skin changes that.

The deification of the Alteans was genuinely irritating.

Sheith was never problematic, it was a vanilla as fuck ship and so boring that people needed to invent conflict. The showrunners never stated their ages in official material outside of one magazine and kept changing shit depending on their mood. The only time we got something solid was in the second last season.

Klance could have been a halfway interesting ship if the fandom wasn't made up of kids with creepy manipulative fandom mom's using them like attack dogs.

You are free to dislike them but Lance and Allura were being set up from season 1 and anyone denying that and insisting it was out of left field is either blind, media illiterate or lying out of their ass.

Bisexual sky is still the most idiotic thing that has come out of this fandom.

The showrunners were going to kill the gay Asian traumatized prisoner of war. They didn't do it because of toy sales not because they care. That is why he has no interactions with any of the other paladins in the final season and why he is just a still drawing in most scenes.

Keith is a Gary Stu. Also Cosmo is the most useless addition to the animal companion trope, his only role is to give Keith one extra ability.

That random guy Shiro got married to has shooters and these people are the funniest ever. Man had one line and had the characterization and depth of dirt. But okay, I totally believe you are ride and die for him.

Keith's mom's character design was lazy as fuck.

Lance is the definition of mediocrity. Mediocre characters can be great in a slice of life story or even in these kind of stories as long as they grow with the world eg Benny and Rock (before development) in Black Lagoon. Lance didn't. He alongside Hunk were thoroughly neglected as characters and I still fail to see the obsession people had with him cause I swear nobody likes canon Lance but rather fanon Lance.

Pidge was annoying as fuck and I was hoping someone would give her a reality check at some point. Never happened though.

Oh the fucking klible...dear God the fucking klible...

The fandom in general was one of the most immature ones I have seen and that is including kpop stans.

If I said my opinions on VLD I would be crucified by the fandom.

[brockachu]

I originally thought Mark was older than Max until either Oli or Gav (@flaticeball) told me otherwise and I was very surprised 😄

lmaaoo patch has got a slightly younger face than his age and (kindly) mark looks probably a bit older than he is. i’m sure the captaincy also influences ppl to see him as An Authority which is often associated with age.

it is particularly funny to remember mark being 3.5 years younger than patch and entering the league like 4 seasons after max. so here is this gangly ass 20yo getting under patch’s skin while patch is like 23yo on a habs team that is trying to prove it is not a failed o6 legacy. patch is trying So Hard to be a Real Adult on a team with a 19yo brendan gallagher and 18yo alex galchenyuk. he’s inherited primary scorer on the team after cammalleri’s controversial trade the prior season. his linemates are a journeyman veteran whose claim to fame was as an A on the cane’s cup-winning team and an undrafted undersized center who worked his way up from the echl. their line name is the two and a half men line. he’s only 23 but he met his now-wife as a 19yo rookie bc his wife is one of his ex-teammates’ sisters who he respectfully asked out after she first inquired her big brother about the cute rookie. he settled down Immediately and married her when he was like 22. he bought a house in brossard near the training facilities the same offseason he got married. he is trying So Hard to be taken seriously here.

and this fuckass barely-not-a-teen overgrown muppet fresh out the whl is getting under his damn skin! this is so fucking undignified!

anyway lol they end up teammates and linemates and besties like 7-ish years later on a team that didn’t even exist when they first made life hard on each other. max is much chiller now, not trying so hard to prove he belongs, not burdened by a franchise and captaincy that he never thought could become so heavy. the overgrown muppet is maybe still annoying, but at least it’s not directed at him anymore.

[willowfey]

Hi Hana!! I've never seen spn, and the only thing I know is through your posts, and you seem passionate about it, so: would you maybe like to talk about the love story you've been denied? What is their relationship like? And what would you liked to happen?

ok this took me a While to respond to, bc i got Really Into answering but then got distracted before i could finish and my brain lost the thought folder in a closet somewhere BUT... i found it. and BOY do i have thoughts... i hope u know what u got urself into by asking this lol 

(spn fans, pls ignore what a fucking MESS this is, i know it’s all out of order, i’m not here to be accurate i’m here to be unhinged thank u very much)

(also follow my spn blog @himbodean)

(major spoilers under the cut for anyone thinking of watching, obviously)

let me preface this by saying that i first started watching this show when i was 14, i am now 22, and it’s still one of the most insane incredible stories i’ve ever experienced IF IF IF u ignore the fact that it’s a crappy tv show with bad writers. because it IS, of course it is, every fan knows it’s a dumpster fire, that’s not the POINT. the point is the story that came from that fire. the point is the story built from accidents, fate, actors doing whatever they want, fans seeing something special and fighting for it, the POINT is that free will and love triumph over god and writers and we’ll get into that meta momentarily but this is just a preface SO.... (also i would like to add that i stopped watching the show consistently somewhere in season 9, everything i know beyond that is from Perceiving posts and youtube compilations, so this will be very messy, but anyway)

let’s start with dean winchester, shall we? a boy taught from the age of four years old that his only worth comes from being Useful. take care of sam, hunt, do your father’s bidding, become a weapon. john winchester is a shitty father and person and i will not stand for defense of him, and i don’t care what his motives were for putting so much burden on dean but dean.... followed every order. internalized every failure. and did EVERYTHING to protect sammy and prove himself, in that order. 

classic fucked up Eldest Daughter Trauma brothermomdad comic relief emotionally constipated man. did i mention he’s bi and adapted a faux Macho Man exterior to compensate largely due to prior mentioned fuckass garbage father? well now i have. 

if you’ve been on tumblr for a while, a place where we just LOVE to analyze stories (and frankly my favourite part about it), i don’t need to explain every nuance for you to understand That Character Type. he would sacrifice himself in a second if it meant a moment’s happiness for someone he loves. for a long time, the only someone there is is sam.  

okay, now sam. youngest sibling disease. does not understand or appreciate at first everything that’s been done for him, takes things for granted, so gloriously unburdened because of dean’s shelter that he’s able to put all his focus into Becoming Normal. because he does not need to prove himself in the same way dean does. because dean always made sure he knew he was loved, useful or not. (samgirls don’t come for me i adore him but he’s an asshole baby, dean allowed him the privilege to be). he’s a very Smart asshole baby, academically, he’s studying to be a lawyer and he’s on track to have the Normal Life dean always wanted for him.

but, but, but

dad’s on a hunting trip and hasn’t been home in a few days. 

so this is where the story starts, kinda. stories are everlasting and theirs started eons ago when the canonical god and angels shaped humanity but shhhh this part of the story starts now. with the with the Head and the Heart setting across lonely america to finish an unfinishable job of ridding the world of evil. 

i won’t give you a synopsis of everything that happens, though with the way my brain is moving right now i Could. they save people, hunt things, the family business and all.... john dies, his weight on dean’s shoulders remains, found family is found, etc etc....

then sam dies. 

you asked me to talk about the love story i was denied, but to do that you need to know the love story we were given. because it’s not just dean’s love for cas, or even just dean’s love for sam, but dean’s LOVE. period. love, the driving force of every story ever but especially this one. 

sam dies. the only thing dean is living for, the only person on earth he truly loves enough to do anything for (w*ncest shippers dni we stan Brotherly love and that’s it). sam dies and dean has Failed at his only job, really, the only one he hadn’t failed until now. 

so, naturally, he makes a deal with a demon. (this is important i promise.) he makes a deal with a demon and sells his soul in order to bring his brother back. 

and it works. and they continue their lives together. sam has matured some and despite having youngest sibling disease he also has youngest sibling RIGHTS, and he can see just how much dean cares about him, and he thinks the absolute WORLD of his big brother. always has, really. dean will never see just how much sam looks up to him.

but dean’s time is running out... the deal has been made and soon, it’s time to pay his dues. he ends up in hell. 

now, something you need to know, that we the viewers did not find out for another handful of years real-time. god is real, right. god is a guy who goes by the name chuck. yes, he has a human body, he writes books about their lives and they have a very meta in-show fandom where high schoolers turn them into a musical and people write fanfiction about them it’s a MESS, but you need to know this because the meta of god=writers is so important and i’m on a ROLE here.

anyway, god is real. his name is chuck. he’s a huge asshole. he represents the writers, like actually.  angels are real too. 

now, my favourite introduction probably; castiel. angel of thursday. baby sibling of the angels. autistic coded (at first you’re like Oh, he’s like that because he’s an angel of course. then you meet his brother gabriel or really any other angel and you’re like okay, that’s not just an angel thing that’s a Castiel Thing and i love it and i love him).

just like dean, all castiel knows is to Follow Orders. and usually that is all he does. years later, chuckgod will tell us that in Every Single Other Universe, castiel saves dean from hell (he’s needed for the apocolypse, see, he and his brother are meant to be vessels for michael and lucifer), he saves dean and then he lets him go and he Follows His Orders. 

but this universe is different. 

in this universe, castiel lays a hand on dean in hell and he’s Lost (according to another angel, Found according to himself). the words dean winchester is saved ring so loudly throughout heaven that every angel can hear it. he grips him tight, raises him from perdition, leaves a hand print on his arm. a mark. a claim. leaves a piece of his Grace, of Himself in dean, and we don’t know it yet but dean leaves a piece of himself in castiel too. 

so, dean is back. he stabs castiel (but he’s okay bc he’s like an Angel Of The Lord in the body of a blue eyed hunk and you’d need an Angel Blade to hurt him, obviously, pfff). castiel tilts his head questioningly, as he often does, and says, more of a statement than a question, “you don’t think you deserved to be saved.” and dean doesn’t have an answer.

fast forward through some plot. dean, the corrupt failure of a weapon damned to hell because of Love, is chosen to be the vessel of michael. not lucifer. dean, the man who didn’t think he deserved to be saved, saved by an angel who was so Changed the moment they touched that now he’s on earth, with them, and he’s not following his orders, and the whole timeline is fucked, and godchuck is angry.

oh well. dean teaches him about burgers and led zeppelin and inside jokes and flannel shirts and porn (yeah... the pizza man doesn’t truly love the babysitter, that’s not the point of it, man). he teaches him about food and home and love and humanity and free will. that’s what they are, the three of them. Team Free Will. because watching humans for eons and falling in love with one, sitting beside one in a ‘67 impala listening to cassettes and watching him eat in a dingy low-lit diner are different things. loving humanity and Falling In Love with a human are different things. 

“For the first time, I feel...” he tells his sister Anna, another angel. (she was written to be dean’s endgame love interest, did you know? castiel was meant to be killed off. but everyone adored him immediately and anna was killed off instead, so where does that leave him?)

“It gets worse,” she says.

“I’m considering disobedience.” 

“Good.”

he’s no longer Castiel-Of-God. he’s just Cas. never again does dean call him by his full name. he becomes Cas-Of-Dean instead. 

so they’re in love and like the post that lives in my mind rent free said, they spend years thinking please say it without me having to ask, they have a profound bond, they dance around each other and sacrifice themselves for each other and dean prays to him when he’s gone, every night, cas rebelled he was hunted and he did all of it for dean, and everyone i mean EVERYONE knows.

“You’re confusing me with the other angel; you know, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you.”

“His true weakness is revealed... he’s in love. with humanity.”

“The stench of that impala’s all over your overcoat, angel.”

“Go ask him, he was your boyfriend first.”

“I thought you two were attached at the... well, everything.”

“It was all about saving one human, right? One man.”

if i tried to list out every time someone implied their love, every time they shared a Look or a charged Moment, i’d literally be here for a year and i’d be writing out the plot of 12 years worth of episodes. so. just know that the subtext is hardly very sub. 

they go to purgatory. dean abandons any other thought to find him, to bring him home with him, and cas spends an equal amount of energy trying to keep monsters away from him. in the end, cas pushes him through the portal back home, and he stays behind because it’s what he feels he deserves. dean rewrites the memory into him not being able to pull cas though in time, not holding on tight enough, another failure. 

they stop the apocolypse more than once. they die a few times and are brought back. plotplotplot they’re in love and everyone knows it, at one point cas dies and dean keeps his coat, folded in the back of his car. dean says don’t ever change. cas says i’ll watch over you. at one point cas is brainwashed and forced to kill a thousand copies of dean, but when it comes down to it, when dean is on his knees bloody and utters the words “I need you,” no amount of brainwashing can stop cas from dropping the knife and cradling dean’s face to heal him. 

cas plays god. the angels fall. now they’re both failures. dean says i guess i’m not the man either of our fathers wanted me to be. cas dies and says i love you, i love all of you. they’re pulled apart by a million different things a million different ways over the years but they come back to each other, they trust each other again, at the end of it all this is all they have. this is all that matters. what dean told him years ago still stands to be true; fate, destiny, god. none of it means anything. people, families, that’s what matters. that’s what’s real. you asked what about all of this is real, cas says to him later. we are. we are.  

fast forward some more. remember that i Have Not watched the last 6 seasons, i just know everything that happened. so things i’m sure are out of order, but it doesn’t matter, the story is everlasting, what matters is that they happen at all.��

they raise a teenage girl because her dad was cas’ vessel (long story). they also raise the antichrist. yes, literally. jack, essentially a three year old in the body of a 20smth or whatever. he calls them both dad. dean teaches him how to love and be human, and cas teaches him how to love and be human too, because dean taught him first. sam is still here, yes, i haven’t forgotten about him. they’re a little family. even when everyone else around them dies, they have each other.

cas dies again, of course. dean wraps and burns his body alone. now he’s brothermomdadwidow. the righteous man. the vessel of michael. lifting the fabric one last time, to look at the face of the angelhuman he loves. 

he comes back, of course. they always do. at least, until now they have, but then they never know when their last death will be.

at some point, they’re in purgatory again. i don’t remember if it’s before or after cas dies and comes back. but dean prays to him. says he should’ve never let him go (because sometimes he pushes him away, it happens and cas goes, not knowing dean doesn’t mean it. i went and you didn’t stop me, cas says. please say it without me having to ask). he says he gets so angry and he doesn’t know why, it’s just always been there. anyone paying attention to the story knows why. when he finds cas, dean starts to tell him what he was going to say, and cas cuts him off, says I heard you, but he didn’t hear all of it. he still hasn’t heard all of it.

(I’ve just realised i’ve gone on for over 2k words now but my gc is telling me to keep going now that i’m this deep, so. we will prattle on and u will know better than to ask me about my hyperfixations next time lest i write an actual novel when i should be sleeping sfgksjhf)

so, where were we? right. dean loves cas and sam and jack and claire and charlie and his whole found family and cas loves them all because dean taught him how to love from the moment he touched him in hell. they’ve all been good and evil. they live in a bunker now instead of a car. they fight godchuck on multiple occasions. he says “you’re not in this story,” and cas looks at dean when he says “we’re making it up as we go.” he also says castiel was ordered to watch over dean, and to date it is the only task he has not failed to carry out. i lose my mind every time i remember this detail.

remember how i said god=writers? remember how i said cas was going to be killed off? it’s meta. oh god, there’s so much meta. this story was not meant to exist, see. but it was always meant to exist. the last words mary winchester ever said to her oldest son, was a promise that angels were watching over him. she didn’t know that an angel would watch dean sleep all the time, that an angel would change the course of the world to protect him. the writers didn’t know, god didn’t know, but it happened. it happened because cas loved dean, because we loved cas, because misha collins and jensen ackles saw these characters in this story and we all came together and said Actually, We Decide, and Actually, Love Is The Most Important, and Actually, What Is A God To A Human In Love? 

they are Team Free Will, because we were first. the viewers. the storyseers who dared them to give god a face and let us have a word with him. it was not written to be a love story, but it was, because everything is, because stories take on a life of their own and no god or writer can change that. 

we’re almost finished, but not quite. i’m sorry if u didn’t want such a massive summary of everything but that is what u get on my blog. cas makes a deal with The Empty, which is sort of like hell but worse, because hell is fire and torture and pain and The Empty is nothing at all. blackness. aloneness. the opposite of love is not hate but apathy. he makes a deal with The Empty to save his son, their son, the antichrist they taught to be good, because dean taught him how to love, and to love is to sacrifice yourself for another. 

the deal is this: cas will go on living his life, for now. but in his moment of true happiness, it will come for him, and he will go willingly. 

now, the scene that prompted this supernatural renaissance. the scene that brought you to my ask box today. if i were you, i would go watch the scene for the full effect, because every word of it is like a gut punch but i will summarize for you now the best i can...

cas never knew what his true happiness could be, because the one thing he wants, he knows he can never have (he can, please just say it without me having to ask). but now he realizes. the happiness doesn’t come from having, it’s just in the being. just in saying it. just in loving. because he loves dean. he loves the whole world because of dean. he tells him this. knowing the empty will come for him, he tells him, because dean deserves to know. he is not how his enemies see him, how he’s seen himself his whole life. he is not a weapon, he is not anger or violence, he is love. everything he’s ever done, every decision he’s ever made. from the moment cas touched him in hell he was changed. and he loves him, and he loves him, and this is a goodbye. when he pushes dean away from him, he leaves a bloody handprint on his shoulder. 

and then he’s gone. and dean lost him again. and he sinks to the floor and sobs. 

what happens next, you ask? they kill god. well, actually, they show him mercy and turn him human. godchuck calls him quite the killing machine, and dean tells him “that’s not what i am.” because he heard cas, and cas loves him, and so he will be the man that cas loves.(and of course he loves him too, of COURSE he does, and he didn’t say it. cas never hears all of it.)

so they kill god in a way, the way we killed the writers, because they don’t decide who we are. and jack becomes god. jack, their son, who they raised and loved.

and just... do you see? do you see how dean’s love shaped the world?

he loved sam and it landed him in hell, he loved cas and it changed the course of the world, he loved jack and now jack is god, and the entire world will feel the benefits of what dean taught them. the entire world will feel his love. 

but why? how did he become this, if john didn’t love him? if mary died so soon? how did he become love without anyone putting it into him?

but then.... there was sam. trusting him, needing him, sam who gave him a protective amulet as a child to keep him safe, to bring him home. there was cas who listened to him, who saved him and changed for him and fought for him. there was jo and ellen and bobby and charlie and all these people along the way who Saw him for who he truly was. from the moment dean picked up baby sam from his crib and ran him out of a burning building, that little spark of love stayed in him and reflected in every person he met, until it grew and grew and

and now, jack is god. 

for me, this is where i stop working with the writers. this is where i ignore everything they’ve done with the ending instead of interpreting it, because they either didn’t know what they had or they did, and i’m not sure which is worse. 

so, what would i like to have happened? 

dean saves cas. pulls him out of the empty the way cas pulled him out of hell. pulls him out of darkness right back into the light. the righteous damned man who decides his own fate. i don’t care how or what trials they’d need to go through first, but bonus points if they end up back in the barn where they first met on earth. if i were writing this show, which i am right now, dean would leave a handprint on him too. and then dean would tell him everything he needs to tell him, and cas would finally hear all of it. there would be a forehead touch, a long lingering one, and also a good fucking kiss because god knows they deserve it. (they know they deserve it, which is far more important).  sam would get eileen back and actually give a shit about it (i know i didn’t talk about her at all, but she was sam’s deaf love interest and she deserved so much better than to be forgotten the way she was). 

cas would willingly give up his grace to become fully human. his grace would go into a large old oak tree, with beautiful full leaves, and they would build a house right by it with their own hands. a proper house, with bay windows and exposed beams and colourful painted steps. there would be a bedroom for jack when he comes home, which he does, even though he’s god too, because heaven is so lonely compared to a warm kitchen.  dean and cas would open a bar for hunters, a cozy place for advice and friends and a break. sam and eileen would get married. no one would move away from each other because people who love each other should stay together and that’s the only ending i will ever accept.  dean and cas have very loving sex on the reg but that’s another conversation. 

they’re happy. they’re together. they’re allowed to live the full lives that they’ve fought so hard for. because in a story where everyone dies, and hell exists, and they kill god sort of, the only radical conclusion is that they survive. 

i would like for the last scene to zoom out from the window of the living room, where they’re all together and laughing and eating, and i’d like to see the leaves changing and the old impala getting washed and the fence being painted, and a family through the window that slowly grows, and Miracle the dog running around some toddlers....

and i’d like the last shot to be focused on the tree made from cas’ grace, with their names carved into the wood like the old table in the bunker and the back of he impala. All of their initials now, on something very much alive.

bumbum.... bumbum..... BUM (screen goes black)

carry on my wayward can play now, and we all can cry out of happiness and shock that writers actually fulfilled their story and character arcs, and everyone gets exactly what they deserve. perhaps a marvel-esque end credit scene where humanchuck is like, idk on a public bus or smth. 

it’s 3am..... i’m gonna sleep now and literally not edit this at all, so pls excuse the multitude of mistakes i’m certain there are shahgfksab. pls follow my spn blog @himbodean too i would appreciate that. hope u enjoyed my hyperfixation story brain explosion, thank u for the ask and opportunity to ramble x 

[lockedstuck]

sorrow that you keep

March 2021 - Sollux Captor

“Vitals!” Dirk announces, rapping on your door with his knuckles. “C’mon, let’s get this over with so I can serve breakfast!”

When you walk out of your room, there’s already a line leading out of the treatment room. The person in front of you, a dark-skinned kid with an Angela Davis-style afro - Karkat, you think his name is - curses up a blue streak while he waits in line.

“I don’t see why I had to get a prissy fucking bastard with insomnia as my goddamn roommate. I didn’t ask for any of this fucking shit. Fucking involuntary status, fucking dumbshit Eridan, I hope this fucking hospital burns down.”

It’s too early to put up with this guy, especially with the migraine you woke up with.

“Not tryna piss you off or anything but do you think you could keep it down with your tirade?”

If looks could kill, the glare Karkat shoots you would have rendered you to a pile of smoldering ash.

“I haven’t had a cigarette in six days, it’s seven oh fuck in the morning, my roommate wakes up seventeen times a night, and I might be losing my job because my shithead brother signed me into this fucking place, so you can go straight the fuck to hell,” Karkat replies.

“Are you this obnoxious later in the day, or did they just forget to give you your ativan last night?”

“I don’t even take ativan, dumbfuck.” He squares up. Maybe if he weren’t five foot one, you’d actually be afraid. “I’ll knock you out if you keep talking, though.”

Behind you, a guy with eyes so dark that they might be violet moves to plant a hand on Karkat’s shoulder. It’s your roommate, Gamzee Makara, who appears to sleep for fifteen hours a day. Karkat surprisingly refrains from flinching or scowling. You probably wouldn’t scowl at this guy if you had the opportunity either; he’s easily six foot four, his hair curling around his ears and sticking out worse than Karkat’s.

“Now there’s no reason to get up an’ motherfucking truculent with the new guy so early in the morning.”

Karkat rolls his eyes. “Makara, if you tell me to calm down and wait for the morning miracles, I’ll kill you too.”

“There’s no need to wait, Karbro. The sunrise is a miracle in and of itself. When I looked at the ceiling in my room, I saw miracles. Everywhere.”

“They need to put you on haldol, man.”

“I don’t need no helldogs telling me what to do. I just go with the flow.”

“Of course,” Karkat says, almost fondly. “You and your motherfucking miracles.”

When it’s nearly Karkat’s turn for vitals, Dirk escorts Roxy over to the nurses’ station. She blows a kiss at Karkat, who raises his hand in half-salute. Ignacio walks out of the charting room and takes a look at her.

“Miss Lalonde, I have medication for you. This’ll help with the shakes, hypertension, and sweating.”

Roxy puts her hands on her hips and winks at him. “Again, cutiepie?”

Ignacio rolls his eyes at her and shakes his head, his mohawk moving slightly with the motion. He hands her a medication cup and a paper cup of water. She swallows her medication down fluidly, without drinking any of the water. That has to be an xbox achievement.

During breakfast, as Eridan continues to scowl and bitch about his lack of breakfast (he has ECT today), and Karkat tells him to stop being an overdramatic fuckass before he stabs him with a fork, Dr. Vandayar pulls you aside for one of his “no big deal” discussions.

Otherwise known as morning check-in.

Truth be told, you rather like Dr. V, or Krishna, which is what he told you that you could call him, even though he has a doctorate.

He got you access to sharps, your body wash, and your clothes. He means well, and aside from when he checks in every morning, he doesn’t force you to talk if you don’t want to.

“How are you doing today, Mr. Captor?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m okay, I guess. Pretty much the same as yesterday.”

Then come the “one to tens”, as you’ve come to think of them. Krishna has his little clipboard balanced on his thigh.

“Urges to hurt other people, one to ten?”

You think of Karkat Vantas and that smug fucking look on his face.

“Two.” It’s always less than three. Maybe that’s why he starts with it.

“Urges to hurt yourself, one to ten?”

You contemplate yesterday’s DBT handout, Roxy’s outburst about self-destruction, and its many varying connotations.

“Eight,” you reply.

“Suicidal thoughts, one to ten?”

“Nine.”

“Active or passive?”

“Passive, mostly. Fleetingly active. I don’t want to live if I’m going to burden people, the usual.”

“Do you have any plans to seriously harm yourself on the unit?”

“No. Not here,” you say. “Everything I’d want to do would require me to be outside.”

“I see,” Krishna says. “Have you been seeing or hearing things that aren’t really there?”

“No.”

“What about feeling like people are out to get you, or sending you special messages?”

“No. Nothing like that. I get enough of that shit at home.”

Dr. V does not laugh at your attempt to joke about your chaotic home life.

If you were to be completely honest, you’re wondering when your medications are going to start working, or if they’re going to start working. Talking to the other patients has been a double-edged sword. So many of them have been on a million different drugs without relief.

Logically, you know that it’ll probably take whatever you’re on more than a week to cure you, but… You’re scared. You’re not in full control and it scares you. There’s a reason you slit your throat. There’s a reason you’re here.

You’re scared the melancholy will wrap itself around you like a shroud, and never relinquish its hold. You’re scared you’ll hate yourself and this life forever.

“I thank you for your honesty, Sollux,” Dr. V says, once he makes his notes. “Any uses of target behaviors that I should be aware of?”

“I cut myself with a plastic knife on Friday evening. Not deep enough to need medical attention, though.”

You scan his expression for evidence of emotion, but he has the mother of all poker faces. All he does is write your answers down in his incomprehensible shorthand,

“How did that make you feel?” he asks. “Remember, it didn’t necessarily have to make you feel anything.”

You shrug. “It helped relieve the tension in the moment, I guess.”

“But it also made me feel disappointed later on,” you go on. “Disappointed at myself. I’m such a fucking idiot for relapsing.”

Dr. V jots this down as well, and shuffles through his papers.

“I wouldn’t use that language to describe yourself. Ridding yourself of maladaptive coping mechanisms can be quite difficult, especially if they have worked for you in the past,” he says. “Nevertheless, do you think you need to be on one-to-one for a few days? So that you stop hurting yourself while you’re here?"

You shake your head vehemently. “Absolutely not. I won’t do what I did again.”

“That is reassuring to hear. I’ll refrain from filling out the paperwork that would put you on constant observation for self-injury. That said, though, there is something you also need to do to prevent that.”

You roll your eyes a little. “You want me to contract for safety, don’t you? Like, filling out one of those sheets that says I’ll grab someone else before I decide to hurt myself. Otherwise I end up on one-to-one, right?”

Dr. V nods at you, before going on. “Yes, that is the general idea. You may either fill it out with me later on in the afternoon, or with a member of the staff with whom you are more comfortable.”

“I’d rather fill it out with you, to be perfectly honest. I trust you.”

He smiles. “I am very glad to hear that, Sollux. I don’t have any further questions for the moment.”’

You get out of your conference with Krishna, and walk into the dayroom.  

Gamzee sits there, watching Good Morning America. He’s got a small smile on his face, and a faraway look in his eye, like he’s both here and not. You call his name to get his attention. It works, his dark eyes trained on you.

“You mind if I sit down?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Naw, it’s cool. You can even change the channel if that’s somethin’ you wanna do.”

He’s built like a linebacker, all broad shoulders and muscles. He could probably snap you in half if he wanted to. You take the seat next to him and he smiles serenely at you.

“So what’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing, man. Just got outta session with Dr. V. He wanted to make sure I didn’t want to hurt myself.”

Gamzee looks thoughtful. He pulls a red paper flower out of his shorts and hands it to you.

“I folded that a couple days ago. You can have it, if you want.”

“For what?”

“For when you need to up an fuckin’ remember the miracles. Like we talked about last night.”

Last night, Gamzee harangued you at length about the Mirthful Messiahs, and the Dark Carnival, and with a practiced skill you have learned from your sibling’s rants about the NYPD following them, you tuned him out utterly. You really hope he doesn’t count you as a believer in his weird ass faith, which seems like some kind of psychotic juggalo cult.

He’s a nice guy, though. You know he’s not utterly harmless, but he seems easygoing enough. You fiddle around with and tear at a piece of paper until you have a square, which you then use to make a paper crane.

“Hey, Gamzee,” you say. He glances up at you.

“Yeah?”

You hand him the paper crane. “You know, the Japanese believe if you fold a thousand of these, you get a wish. I’m not folding a thousand cranes, but this is for you.”

“I will cherish it every day of my motherfucking life.”

You think he means it, too.

Art group is at 11. Katya herds everyone who wants to show up into the art room. So far, that’s you, Roxy, Karkat, June, Gamzee, Calliope, and Porrim. Karkat nods his head at you, and then inclines it toward the door. He wants to talk to you one-on-one. Whatever the fuck about?

He looks like he’s swallowed a lemon before he deigns to speak to you, all pursed lips and narrowed eyes. You’re tempted to ask him what the fuck’s eating him, and then he speaks.

“Listen. I want to apologize about earlier this morning,” he says. “I was in a foul fucking mood, and I need to work on not taking that shit out on other people.”

Wait, seriously? He can’t actually think you’re still upset about that; you get cursed out worse by your sibling on a daily basis, and that’s when they’re in a good mood.

“Accepted,” you reply. “Don’t worry about it, man.”

Faint relief breaks out on Karkat’s features.

Katya has all of you gather around before she constructs a box out of a weirdly shaped piece of cardboard that looks as if it’s been cut so that a small briefcase sized box could be constructed.

“These are what I like to call coping boxes. You make the box, and then you decorate it. You can put anything in here. Things that make you feel good, or that make you think, or handouts you get during other groups. Whatefur you want!”

She hands a box to each of you, after she puts out tempera and acrylic paint, colored markers, gel pens, and colored pencils.

You weren’t planning to keep any of your distress tolerance handouts in the box, but maybe you should. Gamzee’s staring at you while he paints, and that’s kind of weird, at least until you get a good look at how he’s decorating his coping box.

He’s painting halfway decent pictures of you, Roxy, Karkat, Calliope and Eridan on the front part of the box, with the word “friends”, in purple cursive.

He counts you as a friend even though the only thing you’ve really had to do with him was vaguely listen while he spouted his weird theories about the mirthful messiahs?

You have to hand it to him, though. Kid’s a real artist, probably - no, definitely - good enough to paint portraits for money over in Washington Square Park or something. Karkat gets a decent look at what Gamzee’s painting and blushes.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t have to put me on the damn box,” he says.

“But you are my best friend in the whole wide motherfucking universe,” Gamzee replies.

Karkat splutters something and looks like he’d like to object, then just sighs, and tells him to make sure he gets Karkat’s good side. 

“Hey, Gamzee!” Roxy calls.

“Yes, Roxybro?”

“Does painting that mean you’re gonna paint me like one ‘a’ your French girls one of these days?”

Gamzee gives this a good half-minute of thought.

“I ain’t up an’ got any motherfuckin’ French girls.”

Meanwhile, you focus on your tree. It looks like a lollipop with antennae, but whatever, that’s going to be as good as it gets. You ask Katya if you can get a piece of paper to paint on, she “of course”s you and hands you a piece of printer paper.

What will you paint today, Sollux Captor? More trees?

Tears spring to your eyes, and just when you think the worst is over, they start trailing down your face. Roxy recoils and apologizes to you, thinking she’s done something, and all you do is cry harder, you fuckup. You can’t do a goddamn thing right. Only things you’re good for are fixing computers and having nervous breakdowns.

Katya looks up from praising Calliope and Gamzee’s collaboration, and walks up to you.

“Hey - no, it’s okay, mew don’t have to cover your face - what’s wrong?”

She crouches so that she’s eye level with you as you sit in your chair. It somehow makes you feel even worse, like you’re some small child that can’t control their emotional outbursts. Come to think of it, you were like this as a kid, too. Tuna was the outgoing twin who made all the friends, and you were the twin who would start crying if you accidentally colored outside the lines.

“It’s alright. If you don’t want to paint, maybe you’d like to go for a walk?” she asks. You shake your head emphatically.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “It’s just that I’ve never really been good at artistic stuff. Sorry I suck so bad.”

“Art group is not about being good or bad stylistically,” Katya says. “It’s about expressing yourself. As long as you’re doing that, you’re fine. I like your tree. You and Roxy are both excellent at trees.”

Roxy, who has been sitting next to you, using highlighters to draw what looks either like a really bad tree or a neon colored mushroom cloud, gives you a small little smile.

“Wanna draw with me?” she asks.

At first, you assume she’s found some oblique way to hit on you the way she does everyone else, but then she hands you the bottle of black tempera paint and a couple of colored markers. You don’t know what she expects you to do with them. Your tree sucks way more than hers.

“If you can’t think of anything to draw, why not try making patterns?” Katya asks.

You guess you can do that. You start drawing red and blue circles on your piece of paper, clustering them closer and closer together. 

Apropos of nothing, you remember the time in undergrad where you and Ray couldn’t get back to campus in time to beat the blizzard. You and she slept overnight in your car, parked in a gas station. Outside, nothing but a vast, enveloping white, what you imagine death or infinity must look like. The whole world rendered down to the slope and curve of dunes and valleys.

If you think hard enough, you can feel the wind rocking the car, can imagine the sound of Ray’s teeth chattering, or the occasional slip of her hands as she does a tarot reading. Another one. Another one down, another one down, another one bites the dust, Queen playing through your radio speakers. She sits in the front passenger seat, one leg bent beneath her.

“You think we’re ever gonna get out of here?” she asks.

At this moment, you ask yourself that same question. It’s a little different, now.

You wish you could take your seven eighths of a computer engineering degree and come up with a way out of this, but you can’t. That’s your problem. You’re only you, and you’ve never been good at managing your emotions.

[bimboficationblues]

90s Bands as Dril Tweets

Weezer: i attribute the complete failure of my brand to the actions of detractors, oor my “trolls”, as it were, as well as my own constant fuckups

Limp Bizkit: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. i hoot & holler outta the building while a bunch of losers tell me that im dying

Nirvana: it is with a heavy heart that i must announce that the celebs are at it again

Red Hot Chili Peppers: im an exhausting person to be around but once you get to knnow me im actually a giant shithead with irredeemable mouth

Rage Against the Machine: “ey!! im walkin here” - me getting waterboarded by the us government

Radiohead: in a world where big data threatens to commodify our lives,. telling online surveys that i “Dont know” what pringles are constitutes Heroism

Pantera: trying to heal..... please donate to my go fund me... $10 will make me less racist... $100 will make me extremely less racist...thank you...

Fugazi: "This Whole Thing Smacks Of Gender," i holler as i overturn my uncle's barbeque grill and turn the 4th of July into the 4th of Shit

Green Day: boy oh boy do i love purchasing large amounnts of Fool's Gold. wait a minute... fools gold fucking sucks. this stuff is no good..!! Fuck !!!

Faith No More: listen son, if someone calls you a horses ass, you look him in the eye and tell him “horses asses are actually incredibly strong, and clean”

Smashing Pumpkins: aggressively joyless oaf hhere. painfully obnoxious respect demander checkign in. extremely dim witted frowning man looking for pals

Public Enemy: ive never heard of this “europe” but it sounds like a big bunch of shit to me

Nine Inch Nails: IF THE ZOO BANS ME FOR HOLLERING AT THE ANIMALS I WILL FACE GOD AND WALK BACKWARDS INTO HELL

Marilyn Manson: i, turdghoul fuckass, swear to uphold the constitution of the united states of america, so help me Piss. ok sorry, now let me do it for real

Sublime: drunk driving may kill a lot of people, but it also helps a lot of people get to work on time, so, it;s impossible to say if its bad or not,

Pavement: Food $200 Data $150 Rent $800 Candles $3,600 Utility $150 someone who is good at the economy please help me budget this. my family is dying

Tool: LOVER UNBUTTONS MY PANTS AND SEES THE ANKH LOOPED AROUND MY COCK. SHE LOOKS UP AT ME, BUT ITS TOO LATE. IM ALREADY HOLLERIN ABOUT THE ANUBIS

Bikini Kill: damn it to piss. my wife replaced all of my anti-wife reading materials with Pro-Wife bullshit

Nick Cave: if your grave doesnt say "rest in peace" on it you are automatically drafted into the skeleton war

Mr. Bungle: who the fuck is scraeming "LOG OFF" at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off

Neutral Milk Hotel: Not. All. Of. The. Wet. Spots. On. My. Jeans. Are. Piss. Stians.

Oasis: "im not owned! im not owned!!", i continue to insist as i slowly shrink and transform into a corn cob

Burzum: Q: If your post was proven by a counsil of wise men to be racist, or bullshit, would you bar it from the record? A: I do not delete my posts

Pearl Jam: i regret being tasked the emotional burden of maintaining the final bastion of morality and Nice manners in this endless ocean of human SHIT

[thepoisonroom]

okay in reddie whos the an and whos the sb?

okay i had no idea this was even up for debate but i have opinions and here they are:

let’s say we’re working directly off of the definitions given in the original niche post, so:

a sweaterboy “is stable [and] settled. the sweaterboy lives within a familiar pattern, and is, in all likelihood, highly competent at what they do. but is the sweaterboy happy? fuck no, dude! [...] the sweaterboy thinks that this is what relationships — of any kind — should look like: giving and giving and giving, and never actually asking for what they want. Because that would be selfish. the sweaterboy would never want to burden anyone; the sweaterboy, deep down, fears very much that they are a burden”

an absolute nightmare “is someone who has entirely rejected the task of trying to conform to societal norms. they know they don’t fit in. they know they’re not like everybody else. and while they are outwardly bold and defiant and confident, they’re often very lonely. they internalize their issues; they may be mistaken for aloof and uncaring when, in fact, they have big feelings”

let’s discuss the book evidence. we have:

eddie “needed to be protected from his own dim intimations of possible bravery” kaspbrak. lives under his mom’s thumb for years and years because he’s been taught to fear what will happen if he steps out of line even a little! his internal fear of being different, which i would argue is heavily mapped to his sexuality, is externalized in his fear of disease and especially in his fear of sexually-transmitted infection. he tries being a regular straight dude with a wife and a nine to five that he excels at but he’s deeply unhappy with it! he’s replicating what he knows as normalcy (i.e. maladaptive relationship patterns from his childhood) in a desperate attempt to conform which is some CLASSIC sweaterboy bullshit. eddie isn’t your conventional sweaterboy because his definition of what the aspirational norm looks like is so deeply colored by his hypochondria, so as readers we still register him as abnormal, but in his own way he’s trying to live the lifestyle that was prescribed for him that he associates with his mother (fearful, straight, cautious). 

i think the thing that hammers this home the most for me is book Eddie’s relationship with surveillance and being watched. the book repeatedly makes the point that eddie’s personality and self-image are directly contingent on being watched, and who’s doing it. the text makes the argument that eddie when he’s being watched by his friends, or when he’s alone, is fundamentally different from eddie being watched by people who enact violent mechanisms of social control (e.g. bullies who beat him up for not conforming, or his mother who inflicts medicalized violence on him whenever he steps out of line). we get a pretty unambiguous statement of this in the flashback where eddie remembers his gym teacher having an argument with his mother:

“i have the results of eddie’s last physical on file […] it says that eddie is a little small for his age, but otherwise he’s absolutely normal […] he loves to play games, and he runs quite fast […] when there’s nobody around to remind him of how delicate he is”

basically, eddie lives with this constant awareness of how authority figures in his life want him to be, and he conforms when they’re watching him, for the most part. this is how he can be totally capable of the same physical activities as other children and still buy into his mother’s insistence that he’s delicate and constantly ill; he has internalized that surveillance until it’s unconscious/second nature to replicate the behavior that’s expected of him. we also see this focus on surveillance when eddie talks about how he loves bill because he never calls him homophobic slurs, the implication being that other boys their age do. with his friends, eddie can let go of that internal voyeur that watches and polices his actions to make sure that he’s not behaving in a way that might invite unwanted negative attention. you actually see little flashes of this in the scene where ben meets eddie and bill and eddie has a bloody nose from talking back to some bullies! eddie by himself or with his friends is a brave little motherfucker in a world that’s determined to make him afraid (of himself, of the consequences of abnormality, of his sexuality)! i love him so much! but anyway!

basically, eddie spends his entire childhood and most of his adult life trying to bend himself into a shape that’s as small and unassuming and inoffensive as possible. he associates any deviation from the norm with sickness and lives in fear of what it would mean to be different in any way. stephen king literally doesn’t deserve rights but his scene of eddie cataloguing and packing the contents of his medicine cabinet after mike calls him? that’s a goddamned fucking portrait of the iron fist with which many deeply closeted gays try to control their lives. i’m not a hypochondriac but the worst years for my ocd happened when i was trying my hardest to avoid coming out to myself. the mechanism of control varies, but it all comes down to a desperate conviction that something unspeakably terrible will happen if you don’t enact all these horribly specific rituals to protect yourself. eddie’s mechanisms are pills and his inhaler and his marriage and i’m literally going to stop bleeding myself dry writing this oh my god i projected a little too hard there sorry.

anyway: richie “sometimes enchanting, often exhausting charm” tozier. gets beat up constantly because he canNOT stop himself from saying every fuckass thing that comes to his head! he’s whipsmart and observant as fuck and can’t keep it to himself and that gets him singled out by the bullies! i don’t have the exact quote but roll the clip of the part where it talks about richie’s face begging to be bent into new and interesting shapes by bullies ANYWAY. richie is someone who knows he doesn’t fit in and has given up on the task of pretending to! sometimes he’s charming and funny! sometimes he’s exhausting and weird as shit! but that’s absolute nightmarism babey!

the thing that really gets me about richie is that he’s subject to exactly the same normative surveillance as eddie and he canNOT keep himself from telling his audience to fuck off! we see flashes of this when richie hesitates before touching bill for fear that someone might see them and subject them to homophobic harassment. but he touches him anyway! yeah he looks surreptitiously but he touches him anyway! like richie is guided by feelings of deep love and devotion to his friends and he can’t help but express that and wow i’m getting emotional about richie too anyway!

richie as an adult is someone who is weird as shit for attention, but it’s a performance that deflects from his issues being emotionally vulnerable, which is classic AN. the movie got this so right with the part where richie admits he threw up after mike called him, and then tells the other losers he’s glad that they’re there together. like, everyone is shocked because this is a moment of deep vulnerability and sincerity from someone who’s performatively larger than life in order to keep people at a distance. the 2017 movie gives us this with richie deflecting the conversation about their fears by asking stan if the woman from the painting was hot, and again when he says that his biggest fear is clowns, a claim that is NOT borne out by what he sees inside niebolt. richie is, in short, someone who’s comfortable with attention but NOT with scrutiny; he isn’t ready to be seen with all of his vulnerabilities on display, so he puts on a show for people to look at instead. that’s the core of absolute nightmarism. it’s a committed performance of weirdness that’s intended to telegraph invulnerability, but a tightly controlled one that’s meant to ensure that people only look where you want them to. it’s a magic act that shows you something shiny so you won’t glance at where the soft spots are hidden. eddie wants you to look away because there’s nothing to see here, richie wants you to look but only at what he shows you.

i think the thing that cements it for me is the book content about richie’s nicknames for eddie. richie is SUPER demonstrative with eddie and is constantly calling him goofy nicknames and telling him he’s cute. but we get that great quote about how eddie hated being called eds, but sort of liked it too, because it was like a secret identity. that’s the core of the dynamic, imo. the absolute nightmare helps draw the sweaterboy out of their devotion to normalcy and emboldens them to be the version of themselves that they are without the outside pressures of authority and heteronormativity and whatever. the dynamic is book eddie wanting to be the person he is with his friends, the eds of it all, and it’s also book eddie fighting off a panic attack because he has to be brave when the losers need him, and it’s also movie eddie directly attacking pennywise because he’s been reminded of his own “dim intimations of possible bravery” like! i could go on but this is so fucking long anyway yes i think eddie is the SB and richie is the AN now roll the clip of the part where richie asks eddie if he knows what fucking is and eddie is like OF COURSE I DO and the text is like “he hoped he wasn’t blushing” like that’s the dynamic babe

[durativo]

Tell us the story of how the cambion got decapitated OR you have to steal Yamato, slather her with butter and then trek it cross country and then bury her without using your speed to elude Vergil if he comes after you

Let’s Play a truth or dare: Send a Question AND a dare. My muse HAS to choose between them.

“So my choice is tell the story… or die by my own painful self inflicted machinations? Well that’s fair.”

It’s about time he told this story anyway.

“He was fifteen years older than me. Human years, at least. He told me he was pretty old in demon years though; he was in the underworld for a long fuckass time back ‘before Sparda and Mundus had their little beef’, as he put it. His name was Pandæmonium. In his words ‘yeah, I’m pretty sure my parents hate me too’. He had really long hair. Down to his ass. He kinda looked like a rockstar. His hair was white like ours, but he had some stray streaks of magenta in it. He wore a long black coat with magenta highlights and it went down to his shoes. It was really cool. Devil Sword Pandæmonium was this big smooth magenta thing. It looked so much better than Force Edge or Devil Sword Sparda. Good god, it was awesome.”

“Anyway, he told me to call him Pan. He said that name was perfect for him. Pandæmonium. Because Pan meant all, and that was also his preference.Pandæmonium the pansexual. His words, not mine. He was such a weirdo… also Pan had a fuckton of money. He did all sorts of odd jobs. He told me good on me when I told him I had my own business. He told me there was no shame in being a jack of all trades, handy man to babysitter to gigolo. Money is money. The only thing I think he loved more than fucking was fighting.”

“… I gotta admit, I don’t really know what happened to him. But I was… not really proud of myself in that time of my life and I… I was all alone for a while. I mean, I knew Lady and all but… another cambion, and one who was so confident in himself, and he knew demon friends and human friends, he was bridging that world between us. He was teaching demons how to interact with humans… he was also teaching them how to fuck, but that’s relations in the end, right? Still a way for them to get to know each other… and I…” He scratched the back of his head after some mild hesitation. “Fuck, I dunno, he was so confident in himself and his abilities, he could kick my ass in no time at all and I… I guess had… hope? That there was something to keep living for…”

“He never told me it was stupid… my dreams and stuff. He confided in me when I told him he was giving me a will to live. He told me it was good to hear, but he wanted me to find my own reason. People, even cambions… they can’t support another fully, letting one just be carried and the other forced to burden the weight. We can lean on each other, but we have to stand on our own at some point. We uh… we had a really strange relationship, yeah? He was kinda… uh…” His face actually flushed a tinge red, even though he didn’t turn red telling the tale of that sevensome. “He was kinda… like a sugar daddy.”

Of course, he meant more than that, for the years that they actually spent time together, but that was the best way to put it. When he had to move, he told me. “This is where we part ways.” He said he had a nice time with me. I was gutted. I just… I felt all alone again. Even fucking people still felt miserable when he wasn’t there.”

“I didn’t know what happened to Pan. All I learned was he went to Vie de Marli. And then… maybe two years later, I went to Vie de Marli. And I found him. I found Pan… well… I found his skull… look, I don’t really know how I knew, but I knew it was his. They also had his Devil Sword… but only the tip of it. I don’t know where the handle and the rest of the blade is… but I stole it. I stole it all. I buried him… not far from Modeus and Baul. I just felt like if I was there… maybe I would’ve been able to save him. I don’t know what happened to his body, I’m going to guess it got experimented on, but whatever was left of his spine was clearly snapped off– he had cuts on his skull too, cuts I know weren’t from scars. Damn bastard went down fighting the hardest anyone ever fought, and I know it. Enough for a cambion’s skull to be cracked and not healed over.”

“Anyway, Vie de Marli was… already a bad place. I didn’t need it piling that shit on top of me but… I tried to look on the bright side. At least I knew what happened. At least he came with me, and at least he got to be buried and not trapped in a glass box like a museum exhibit or some toy. The tip of the Devil Sword Pandæmonium I keep around. Like a good luck charm. He said if I could ever kick his ass I could have it. I didn’t kick his ass, but I brought him home, so… I guess that’s good enough for a piece. Yeah?”

[drugrattes-blog]

"Rumor has it your roommate was thinking of leaving town. I don't care for rumors and I'm not sure how true it is but, I just wanted to check on you. Is everything alright?" ( from Adelheid, even tho im trash and I owe you replies. Totally feel free to decide if its true/false, I just wanted to make her talk about Franziska because their relationship is interesting to me! )

   —Rumors – have Joan react to them! || @archivieren || accepting

“…WHAT?” the words struck her as sudden and most of all, shocking. Is it true? Joan’s well aware Franziska’s all but a reliable individual—but to do shit like this, to pull this bullfuckery right when she’s basically being her permanent client? That’s batshit insane. While she does appreciate Adelheid’s concern, the ravenette’s face cannot help but to contort into an evident, outraged frown, lips curling down violently, just as her brows knit with the same fashion. “Franziska—? Leaving town?” that’s so fucking stupid. So damn idiotic. ( and yet, she doesn’t feel like mustering up the guts to actually confront her about the veracity of this. yet, she feels like as if this could actually, remotely be true. this could aswell happen, considering the little care franziska holds for her. she’s nothing more than yet another client, after all. )

“I… I don’t think it’s true?” she does often speak about going back to her home country, but - right now? RIGHT NOW? Her thoughts are all running along insults, swears, blasphemies, all because of a stupid paranoia burdening her stomach and her chest, her mind running miles and her anxiety striking her breath like only few times it did. Is she having a panic attack? Because it surely feels like so. Then again, she’s also trying to keep composure - and she’s not sure if she’s holding it together as she wishes. “T-there’s… no way. We’re… tight-tied, there’s no way she’d do that? It’s impossible.” how will she deal with the abstinence? What about her lifestyle? Does she have to live in the streets again, does she have to be wary and avoid everyone until she gets to live with an host that won’t take advantage of her? Will she have to go through that again? She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t need to. One time has been enough.

“If… that fuckass even tries it…” mixed with her panic, there’s an angry tremble in her words, her crossed arms tensing and her nails digging into her flesh in order to not lash out on anything else but herself. ( she doesn’t want to scare adelheid, after all. she did nothing but inform her. she isn’t at fault. ) “I-I’ll cave her damn face i-in.” it’s a NULL threat—but it shows how much she doesn’t like the idea of that rumor being true. It’s not possible. Such a stupid concept. Why? I’ve been loyal, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck is going on?

A gulp. A deep gulp, followed by a deep breath of air.Okay. Calm down, you got this.Before speaking again, Joan repeats this process a few times, a weak attempt at calming herself down; and it works, even if a little. Enough for her to manage a few more phrases—that hopefully don’t sound wheezy and teary. “Any. Ways–anyways. I m-mean.” ( what about the coke, the heroin— ) UGH, SHUT UP. “I’ll… I’ll confront her about it… I’ll t-try? But thank you for telling me, Adelheid. I mean… I mean it…”

This could be just another reason to hate that asshole even more than she already does. As if snuff films and forced obedience isn’t already too much.