#time to rewatch ig

[feelingpure]

FELLOW TRAVELERS 1.01 ‘You're Wonderful’

[allhailwiggly]

the main romantic couples of the hatchetfield trilogy are so funny bc two of them have a sweet and tentative relationship where the most intimate thing they do is hold hands. and then the third fucks in a cinema

[msvrtt]

felt like sketching some ol good Phil while watching today's stream, one of my fav block people designs tbh

[captaincanonly]

this concludes my current hobbit + lotr doodle dump :) hope you enjoy!

part 1 part 2

[mgu-h]

norstappen | miami gp 2024

[responsetoloneliness]

dr jillian salvius eats so hard every time man

“hell is a construct designed my men to subjugate the masses, particularly women” ?????????

preaching harder than ALL the religious figures right there

[brainworms-all-night-long]

Wait so was J just punted into the plante's nonexistent core never to be seen again lmao

[littlepissbabee]

John dory and guy diamond would be sooo interesting together because like their first interactions would probably be something like guy diamond yelling things like "YOU LET MY BABY DRIVE YOUR VEHICLE" at JD and hes just like "um her name is rhonda" and guy diamonds like "YOU LET MY B A B Y DRIVE YOUR R H O N D A" and its very wild and guy diamonds questioning why he ever liked brozone and then TINY DIAMOND pops uh like "daddeh stop yelling at uncle JD, i had my learners permit!!" And guy diamonds turns to look at his son so gosh darn quick and he yells out "W H O??!!??!!??!!" And its a whole mess

[secrettastemakerland]

it was just brought to my attention that 16 days left until bridgerton season 3 means you can watch an episode a day until polin's arrival!!!!!! and while i'm not eactly strong enough for that i'm gonna try for my parents 🤧

[hatake]

love how after winning sanji goes back to his gfs and zoro also goes back to his gf

[frogintheair]

mmmm hi ^_^ anyone wants months old sketches

[ectonurites]

SUPER DARK TIMES (2017) DIR. KEVIN PHILLIPS

[redmyeyes]

superstition

for @wincestwednesdays

On bad nights, Dean takes the car out.  There's no memorial, no resting place, so.

He tried a picture once. After the crossroads but before the third breakdown. A therapist of a friend of Lisa's boss suggested it. Which means his level of fucked-up was enough to warrant four degrees of casual-aquaintance separation. My friend's co-worker's bf is a real mess. Lost his brother, poor guy. Any suggestions? 

Pretty impressive, if he does say so himself. 

So, the picture. You speak to a picture of, of the loved one, she phrased it. Tell them all the things you meant to tell them. You know.

Dean couldn't do it. Can't do it. The one picture he has of Sam is tucked safely away in a cigar box in the trunk, but he can't, still, bring himself to look at it, no matter how old and faded or unfamiliar or different from the way he looked when he—

When.

People think the legend of the crossroads is superstition. What they don't know is, they're right. And wrong at the same time. Started as superstition. Demons just got wind of it, and started taking advantage.

Sometimes you can make a superstition real, if enough people believe. 

That's what he tells Sam in the dark, when he's driven so far out into nowhere on a moonless night that he can almost pretend the shadows to his right engulf a missing person.  Like they're working a case. Like Sam will turn to him in the dark and say, Maybe it's just about finding the right demon to apply pressure, and he'll feel the heat of Sam's breath as the words come or he'll see Sam gesture with his ginormohands out of the corner of his eye. 

Well. Those days when Dean could still pretend are long past, so he mostly just sits silent now.  He's not delusional.  But this is sacred. This ritual. This… communion. Sitting in the dark on the hood with a whiskey.  Talking or not talking. 

Most days, Dean thinks this is the only thing keeping him sane. 

He takes two deep pulls of whiskey, and starts choking when one hits the wrong way. "I am not, shut up," he mutters around a cough. 

So much effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other; he doesn't know how people do it. He needs a project, something all-consuming enough to take his mind off— take his mind out. 

He's trying.  He's trying to put in the same effort to taking care of Ben, to the work, to Lisa, to friendship. All of these half-measures to replace one person and it doesn't come close.  Like filling in blanks with stick figure drawings of a copy of a copy of a picture. 

"Not replacing, you know what I mean," he says to the air.  

"I am trying though, I—"  Another swig of whiskey, it always takes him a minute to warm up to it.  "Today was a bad day, Sammy.  Guess they're all bad days but—"  Dean shakes his head.  He's careful to stay on his side of the hood, to keep staring straight ahead, or up at the stars.  They used to get like this sometimes, whiskey-loosened lips and the dark and the one person in the world who'll actually get what you're saying right there next to you…

"You remember that time in, uh— I dunno, Ohio I think. You woulda been about ten, eleven.  Same age as Ben.  Actually, you probably don't remember.  Woulda been one of a thousand to you, but— I remember it. So clearly, man.  First time I—"  A gulp of whiskey.  "You were out.  Me and Dad were off on a quick recon and got back—quicker than you expected I guess—and you were gone.  This was before Flagstaff, before things got real bad between you and him.  You snuck into the movies or some shit, or maybe you were at the arcade, I don't know. 

"I remember your face when you came in.  You were—happy.  Like, light.  Like a kid. Like, you didn't even get what was about to go down.  Didn't bother sneaking in 'cause you thought you'd done nothing wrong, and Dad was— " He huffs. "You don't need me to tell you how he was, 'cause he always was.  But you started arguing like the stubborn ass you always were.  Are.  And— Sammy, I remember the way you looked at me. Like— pleading for help or backup or— no, not pleading. Like— betrayal. Like I betrayed you. I— I don't know why that stuck with me. That stupid moment from when you were ten, when we've had shit a million times more serious gone down since then."

Dean's silent for a moment, and when he starts speaking again he's forced to clear his throat.

"I kept thinking... if he would just obey.  If he would just listen, just— shut up, sometimes. Just let Dad talk. As if that— was something of value. But you never could.  Always had to have your say, always stood up to him, and I didn't back you up and I kept not backing you up with Dad, and maybe if I'd done better you wouldn'ta left for Stanford in the first place, even though, I dunno man, maybe we were always destined to end up here anyway, but—"  

He cuts himself off and gets his breathing back under control.  Another swallow of whiskey, craving the burn in his throat.

"I saw that same look on Ben's face today.  From me.  He was scared of me, looking at me like— just like you used to look at Dad. Except without your piss-ass stubbornness. " A moment passes before he continues, his voice strained. "It's not just me here, Sammy.  I mean, you begged me to do this. To live this life, and I'm trying, I am, but— it's not just me, okay?  Lisa and Ben, they— you know. I was so messed up when I knocked on their door I'm shocked she didn't call the cops. I came to them. Because you wanted me to and they took me in and now they're just there, suffering, because I can't get my shit together and—"

His gut wrenches. It's a long time before he can speak again, and he has to uncurl himself to do it.

He takes a breath in.

And out.

Sam used to do this when—

Sam used to do this.

"Okay, yeah. Maybe that's a cop-out.  Maybe I just don't—"

He cuts himself off again and sighs, banging his head lightly against the windshield.  He survived forty years in Hell, you'd think he could do Suburbia.

"It's different.  Hell was survivable because I was there to keep you alive."  Not strictly true.  He tries again.  "Hell was… I thought you were okay.  I thought you were okay, and that made it worth something. And even when it wasn't, it was so intense that I— couldn't think.  Couldn't.   And that was a blessing."

I'm not strong enough for this, Sammy.  Not without you.

He can't say those words aloud yet.  To do that would be to admit— too much.

"I don't know how long I can keep doing this," he whispers instead.

Even that admission… it's enough.  For now.  It's enough to get him through the next however many days until things get so bad that he needs to come out here again.  Sam's silence feels like acceptance, and Dean breathes it in.

He's not resigned. Not yet, anyway.  He still hasn't given up hope that there's some way to get Sam out.  But, he knows, the moment that last shred dies is the moment he goes with it.

Until then, he'll keep talking to the dark.

"Call it superstition," he says.

[ghastlyaffairs]

Strife! Strife! Shoot the freaking imp!!!!!

[h0estar]

the dumpster battle was so intense, it felt like I was in the court with them

[mozazr]

wait im too lazy to rewatch the whole series but i just remembered that in the scene where bill's in stan's head before they're erased stan says he's surprised bill didn't recognise his mind

was stan ever told that bill was in his head before? how does he know that bill should know what his mind looks like. hm