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fairlyspnfanfic · 3 years

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The Ties That Bind Us - Part 8

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because…well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2438

Warnings: Trauma, medical terminology, stress, hospital waiting room, all the angst

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN

I hesitated to open my eyes, for fear that I’d wake up and it would all have been a dream. My lips felt warm and pleasantly swollen as I reached my hand up slowly to touch them, keeping my eyes shut. I took a deep breath and lifted my eyelids, coming eye to eye with Dean as he lay next to me staring.

Sheepishly, I smiled and released a small chuckle with my fingertips still glazing over my bottom lip. “Well,” I said meekly. “Not a dream.” His eyebrows were still knitted together as if he was unsure as to what my reaction would be. But the corner of his mouth twitched upward as the hint of a smirk began to spread.

“Kinda was for me,” he said through an exhale of breath as he ran the back of his fingers along my cheek. I leaned into his touch, relishing in the delightful feel of his skin on mine.

“How long,” I asked him.

“How long what? How long have I wanted to do that?” He paused, leaving the silence pregnant with anticipation. He let out a quick breath, looking to the ceiling as he thought. “Six years ago, St. Patrick’s Day. I told you to kiss me cause I’m Irish. You called me an idiot and threw a pillow at my face.” I laughed at his response. “Been hooked ever since.”

I could feel heat rushing to my cheeks as they blushed and a coy smile wound itself across my face.

“Or did you mean how long have I known you wanted me to? Cause that’s a very different answer.”

I ducked my head down, attempting to hide from his view, and buried my nose into the crook of his neck. “I mean, I’d be happy to answer that one for you, too, sweetheart but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” His words dripped with sarcasm as he pursed his lips and left a trail of kisses from the crown of my head and down the side of my face, slowly pulling my head back up to face him.

“See, when things weren’t looking all that great for you? I wasn’t doing so well. I wasn’t the pillar of strength you’re used to on the day to day.” His face returned to seriousness now, and my eyes fixated on him. “I kind of fell apart. No, that’s not true. I completely fell apart. A world without you in it? That’s not a world I want to be in.”

I felt tears pooling in my eyes, but I held them at bay.

“So, my baby brother, he decides he needs to cheer me up. See, he yanks me up to my feet, slams me up against a wall and tells me to stop being a selfish prick. Tells me I can help you by just keeping it together, by staying with you.” Dean’s hand lifted as he pushed my hair gently behind my ear. “Now I’m lost at this point. He’s talking crazy and all I want to do is hide from the world. But the big oaf that Sam is, he wouldn’t allow that.” He leaned in towards me again, pressing a short, chaste kiss to my lips before tucking his chin over the crown of my head.

“Instead, he looks me in the eye, tells me I’m a moron, and lets me go. But not before just blurting out ‘She loves you, you jackass,’ and proceeding to lecture me about how dumb I am.” The smile on his face is beyond genuine and my entire body feels as though it’s turned to gelatin. “That true,” he asks me, his eyes back on mine. The confident smirk on his face is betrayed only by the pleading desperation in his green orbs that are so focused on mine that I dare not even blink.

Slowly, I nod my head, feeling that same blush rise in my cheeks again. “Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking as I did so.

“Thank god,” he breathed out as his lips once again plastered themselves against mine, knocking the air out of me as he slowly wound his arm around my waist. He leaned into me, rolling me over onto my back as he rested his body on top of mine, his hips jutting against my own. I could feel his calloused hands wandering; one tangled in my hair as his fingers deftly caressed my ear lobe as his other held our bodies closer together.

I had wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him with desperation. Dean pushed against me harder as I felt his excitement growing against my groin. I broke our lips apart, breathing deeply as I lifted my hand to the back of his head, entwining my fingers in his hair. He began grinding his hips against me; an act I longed for but subsequently found intolerable. Shocks of pain tore through my abdomen in waves and I cried out, gasping for air as I ground my teeth together.

“Fuck,” I grimaced, wincing. Dean instantly backed away, holding himself almost as if he were doing a pushup.

“What’s wrong?” His panicked voice rang out as his eyes examined me.

I removed one hand from his firm waist and grabbed for my side, desperate to alleviate some of the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath, looking down towards my waist. It seemed instantaneous that I sprang off the bed and frantically searched for the remote control with the nurse call button. A few seconds passed and the pain had ebbed.

“Dean, I’m fine, really.” My attempt to settle him did nothing as I spoke to his back. He was running towards the doorway now, yelling for help.

I rolled my eyes, knowing that he was surely overreacting. Pulling my hand away, I glanced down and took in the sight of dark red blood pooling slowly on the sheet beneath me. “Well, crap.”

Dean walked back into the room, a female nurse clad in dark purple scrubs in tow. He raised his hand and pointed towards my wound, and she immediately got to work. My gown was quickly pushed to the side as she took a look at the damage that had been done.

“You’ve popped a staple out. Haven’t seen that too often!” Her voice was cheery and calming as she smiled sweetly at me.

“I’ll get the doctor and we’ll get you patched up again in no time. Good as new, huh? How are you feeling in the meantime? What’s your pain level?”

“I’m good,” I answered simply.

“Are you sure, darlin’? You look a little flushed.” Her eyes were intent now, taking in every physical cue that she could.

“That, uh,” Dean began with that devilish half smile of his. “That could be my fault.” He held up a finger as if claiming victory. I rolled my eyes in response and watched as the nurse did the same.

She turned her head to face him and took up the absolutely accurate stance of an angry mother about to berate their petulant child. “You do know that she’s recently had invasive surgery, yes?”

I watched as Dean shrank under the nurse’s stare. He nodded solemnly.

“And that a team of highly trained surgeons spent several hours fixing her up and putting her back together again with slim odds that she’d even wake up, let alone thrive and begin healing?” Her question was obviously rhetorical. Dean held eye contact with her and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” He’d never sounded so young and childlike.

“So maybe, just maybe, we can pause on the hanky panky funny stuff until after she’s discharged, yeah?”

I stifled my laughter as Dean nodded again, and the nurse exited the room, patting his shoulder as she walked by; the smile on her face betrayed the entertainment she had felt at Dean’s expense.

Dean skulked back towards me, lowering himself into the chair beside my bed. The laughter that I had been withholding came pouring out of me, eliciting more pain as I again held my side.

“Geez, Y/N, you’re going to open yourself up more.” Dean placed his hands on my arms, attempting to hold me still.

“Yeah, well. You started it.”

His eyes went wide with incredulity. “How do you figure?”

“You were the one who opened up first!” My cheesy joke landed flat.

Dean rolled his eyes, leaning backwards in his chair as he sighed dramatically. “Good to see you didn’t lose your awful sense of humor.”

I smiled at him exaggeratedly. “I’m delightful.”

He smiled at me again, reaching over and raking his fingertips down my cheek. “Yeah,” he paused. “You are.”

The doctors had swooped into the room, getting me all stitched back together in a blur of lights, antiseptic, and latex gloves. The same nurse had accompanied them, insisting on administering more morphine when she did so.

They moved me into a wheelchair as they waited for my bedsheets to be taken out and laundered. I was struggling to keep my head up as I leaned my temple against my palm, fighting to hold my eyelids open. I could feel Dean’s warm hand drawing comforting circles on my back, but my head was swimming. His soothing voice rang out every few minutes, letting me know that it was okay if I wanted to fall asleep. Encouraged even. But stubbornly, I refused, shaking my head and insisting on waiting until Sam came back.

It wasn’t too long until Sam peaked his head into my room; his long hair unkept and falling in his face.

“Hey, Tarzan,” I mumbled, giggling at my own joke. Both the boys stared at me quizzically as my eyes closed and I leaned further over onto the side, my chuckles growing quieter.

“Tarzan? I thought it was Thor.” Sam’s voice drifted in as if he were speaking through static.

“She’s out of her mind on morphine, Sammy. Don’t worry.” I could hear the jest in Dean’s voice as he spoke from just behind me.

There was a small hint of commotion as an orderly came in with a rolling tray full of food for me. With my eyes still closed, I took a deep breath, attempting to smell my meal. But my sense of smell reacted negatively as I breathed in the scent of hard-boiled eggs, squash and fish.

“Gross,” I protested, grabbing at the wheels of the wheelchair I sat in and attempting to push myself away.

“No. Don’t want that,” I murmured as I shook my head. There was a strong hand grasping my shoulders as someone gently whispered in my ear to relax. “Mom made me lasagna,” I groaned, as large tears overwhelmed my lids and began cascading down my cheeks.

I felt warm fingers press against my cheeks as Dean’s familiar voice repeated my name softly.

“Hey, Y/N. Can you open your eyes for me?”

I stubbornly shook my head, opting for the darkness my closed eyelids afforded me. I could feel panic rising in my chest, and my breaths began coming in stuttered waves. Sam’s voice was screaming into the hallway, demanding a nurse or any sort of help. But my head was swimming. I could still smell the garlic and tomatoes as the cheese bubbled on the top of my favorite dish. I could hear my mother’s voice as she spoke with me. My father’s warm, teddy-bear embrace still ghosted over my arms. But all I could see was black. I longed for the comfort their memories had afforded me.

“Daddy,” I mumbled out as I felt the familiar push of medication run up my arm as forced, restless sleep overtook me.

I woke hours later. Days possibly. The sky outside my window was still dark and the light in the room too dim. Running my dry hands down my face, I pulled myself slowly to sit up in the bed. The ache in my side not entirely unnoticed. Every muscle in my body was sore and resisted moving. I kicked my legs out gently over the bed, glaring at my thighs as I balanced myself on them with the palms of my hands.

“Don’t even think about it,” Dean’s voice was stern as he spoke from the chair in the corner of the room. I watched his arms flex as he walked towards me, squatting effortlessly in front of me as his eyes locked onto mine.

“Back in bed.” His words were stern, but his eyes betrayed some sadness that lingered on his face.

“Dean?” My voice was groggy and sounded foreign to me.

“Y/N get your ass back in bed, now.” He sounded almost defeated; an unfamiliar tone for him.

I acquiesced and pulled my legs back onto the uncomfortable air mattress, keeping my eyes set on his face. “What’s wrong,” I asked him. “You seem grumpy.” He took his seat again in the lounge chair next to me, leaning on his knees with his elbows.

A forced, quick breath leaked through his nostrils, full of incredulity. “Grumpy, huh?” He paused. “Can’t imagine why.” His eyes fell to his hands, focusing on the thin piece of fabric that he was fiddling with. He flicked his gaze up to me, following my gaze back down to his hands.

“It’s part of your shirt,” he explained. “Or, well, was.” He paused again. “It tore off in your back there,” he gestured towards my side. “Had to dig it out on the way here.”

I took a deep breath, attempting to steady my surprise. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

He pursed his eyebrows and looked up towards me slowly. “For what? Getting stabbed? Not your fault.”

I reached towards him, surprised when I watched him pull away and lean back into his seat. “See, getting stabbed? Hurt? Happens to all of us. But you,” he said, holding the fabric up towards me. “You were reckless. You ditched me and Sam and did your damnedest to be in more danger than you needed to be.” His eyes shot up towards mine again, that same pained sadness shooting out of his eyes as he let silence stretch between us.

“And here, in this hospital. Some of the things you’re saying, been saying. They’ve got me wondering.”

I let his statement stand, wanting desperately to not discuss the topic at hand. “See, I’m wondering if there’s not something you’re hiding. Something you didn’t or aren’t telling me. And that? That won’t work. That’s something else.” He dropped his head, clenching his hand into a fist as he held onto the scrap of clothing. “So, talk.”

To be continued….

Part Nine

Taglist (Tag requests are open):

@vicmc624 @waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy @carissime72 @deans-baby-momma @formulafun @woodworthti666 @yetanotherreader @crashlyrose @hobby27 @gabby913 @jxackles @polina-93 @supernaturaladdictsblog @fandomoverdose666 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @tazzi-baby @acertainhero @lilulo-12 @slamminmine @mimaria420

(Desperate attempt to get my faves to notice me) @thinkinghardhardlythinking @smol-and-grumpy @wonder-cole-reads @watermelonlipstick @that-one-gay-girl @waywardbaby @luci-in-trenchcoats @holylulusworld @cockslut-padalecki @calaofnoldor

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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That heaven meta you wanted

And a little more on souls, but I already have a 40 page meta on that topic in particular.

So someone asked if I had heaven meta, and I pointed out yes, but littered through many other topics involving things like souls, false duality, absence, the One True Thing and whatever else in my crazy-ass pagan life tag.

So the first cue here is to absolutely stop thinking of heaven as a place. The beginning mental exercise in abstraction is to apply two things.

One from Dabb’s Dark Side of the Moon: It’s “A bunch of places.” also, from 15.13, I want people to niche talk of the Occultum. It’s a Place, and a Thing. It doesn’t exist in any particular created space, but rather, outside of a particular space.

I find that in our training to think inside three dimensional space and linear time, certain details of all of this get lost. The one “place” to consider will be the Axis Mundi, and “The Garden.” -- the Axis Mundi as the road of thought that ties it together, perceived as a white hall by angels or anything from a river (like Styx) or a road (for Dean) to man. Just like in DSOTM, “for some it’s god’s throne, for others it’s Eden” at the “center of it all”. Angels perceive god’s throne. The Winchesters perceived a garden, they just perceived a different garden than Jack’s baby brain. Yes, I am implying the occultum is essentially the same place as god’s throne despite the absence of angels, and even that paradox is something I’m going to touch on inside this.

Now before I get into making everyone have to think like delirious stoners, I’m going to share with you one delightful mental image of, in DSOTM, Zachariah actually sighting Dean toot tooting down a white hallway floating on an invisible car only he perceives.

Okay, now, to the real meat of this.

Have we all stopped thinking of heaven as a place yet? Because again, stop. Stop thinking of it as a place. It’s a lot of little non-places. It is not in our three dimensional universe. In fact, our three dimensional universe may just be tucked inside of one of a million little pockets of the heavens. The idea of the heavens should not be broken down and tried to pack to make sense within the universe, but the universe should be made to make sense within the heavens.

ASH: See, you gotta stop thinking of heaven as one place. It’s more like a butt-load of places all crammed together. Like Disneyland except without all the anti-Semitism.

Dean and Sam still look confused.

SAM: Disneyland?

ASH: Mm-hmm. Yeah. See you got Winchesterland. (He holds up his hands to indicate the bar.) Ashland. (He points all around outside the bar.) A whole mess of everybody-else-lands. Put them all together: heaven. Right? At the center of it all? Is the Magic Kingdom. The Garden.

For now I’m going to forego arguing the absurdist circles reads on this section of canon and explaining fundamental things like Ash as an unreliable narrator and how honestly absolutely fucking irrelevant and outright hysterical that this is what the fandom focuses on rather than the whole vat of cosmoconception, gnostic thought and baudrillard ideas floating around in here, sure, we’re gonna bicker with alt shippers over them misreading what Ash says about soulmates, an idea that didn’t even exist mythologically until the 19th century --lol, we’ll move past that and focus on the meat.

The center of it all is the garden. Check.

Like, meditate if you need to. I need people to let that go. Let go of old fandom wank. Let go of heaven being a space, but rather a lot of nonspaces. Time is not a thing there. Space, really, is only as far of a thing as people perceive it within their own little mental domains. Perception rules all.

Heaven is the place of the Mind.

CASTIEL: (on radio) Please, listen. This spell, this connection, it’s difficult to maintain.

DEAN: Wait. If I’m in heaven, then where’s Sam?

CASTIEL: (on radio) What do you see?

DEAN: What do you mean ‘what do I see’?

CASTIEL: (on radio) Some people see a tunnel or a river. What do you see?

DEAN: Nothing. My dash. I’m in my car. I’m on a road.

CASTIEL: (on radio) Alright. A road. For you it’s a road. Follow it, Dean. You’ll find Sam. (The radio is breaking up.) Follow the road. (The radio dies.)

And importantly,

SAM: This is heaven’s Garden?

DEAN: It’s-it’s nice… ish. I guess.

JOSHUA: You see what you want to here. For some it’s God’s throne room; for others it’s Eden. You two, I believe it’s the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. You came here on a field trip.

So beyond this, the only other mention we have of the axis mundi if you search supernatural transcripts is in Inside Man, where the hallway is acknowledged in unspoken text in Inside Man, when Bobby breaks out of his little mental box with Sam’s prompting.

“Axis” remains the same from Latin. “Mundi” means:

toilet/dress (woman), ornament, decoration (uh, not this one)

universe, heavens (this one)

world, mankind (and this one)

Both of these ones. Bear through.

Now, this tracks, actually, if you think about heaven’s perspective there as from the angels we had the previous view seasons. We see the human perspectives in their own boxes, but when they step out rather than seeing a river, or a road, we see a white hall. These white halls, however, do lead to a white throne room that was god’s, rather than the road leading to a garden.

So again, You see what you want to here. For some it’s God’s throne room; for others it’s Eden.

Okay, so, let’s recenter this, using Ash’s statement, at “the center of it all.” -- the garden. The Axis mundi flows to/from it, and along the way the “heavens” are there, but “heaven” as an idea comes with a lot of dogmatic associations I think makes people dig in their heels a little bit and think in... well, boxes. So instead of calling these “heavens”, moving forward I’m going to call them Thought-Boxes, alright? I want to detach any sort of christian coding you’ve attached to this in your brain and think about them as Thought-Boxes built by memories of the people using their greatest hits.

So let’s talk a little bit more about these Thought-Boxes. For example, in Byzantium, we see Jack in his own. During his time there, he’s living a greatest hit from around the time of Tombstone that was sort of an offscreen fill in. Now, Jack -- possibly from being half angel -- starts experiencing “seeing through” the parts that don’t make this real. There’s a break, a glitch if you will. The people that are there simply aren’t there. There are no souls to these, maybe there’s not even bodies.

But despite this, even once he vacates, the place maintains physical properties. The physical props are there. They detect that Jack had been gone because his burger went cold. This seems like an irrelevant detail but it very much is not. I’m going to ask everybody to put a tack in this.

We can go on about the idea of abrupted memories leading to disappearing people in, for example, Dark Side of the Moon again. Fizzlefffft, baby Sam was gone once Dean cued into something not being right. But the environment remained, this imprint of a built space, a shadow of a memory.

But I’m going to go on to Thought-Boxes. Because Thought-Boxes don’t end at these heaven things. Thought-Boxes were with GadreelSam, with Casifer, with DeanMichael. I’m sure everyone wants to say “That’s not the same!!!” but... is it really different?

(Distantly hears someone yell YES)

No.

(YES)

No.

(Y-)

No, it really isn’t. Even ignoring the onset of the fact that entering Dean’s headspace in Nihilism was reflective of the Empty itself, there’s even more to this.

CHUCK:

Listen, you guys know me.

I'm hands-off.

I built the sandbox -- you play in it.

You want to fight Leviathans?

Cool. You got that.

You want to go up against -- what was it? -- the "British Men of Letters"?

Okay.

Little weak, but okay.

Okay cool, while this right here also had a bunch of subtext: such as, Chuck sort of entailing how he keeps them occupied, or that he built the sandbox but not the brings playing inside of it, I’m going to roll people back to remember what was going on inside Michael-Dean’s head, where Dean stayed complicit from a mix of contentment and battle.

SAM Cass, wait a second. Would Michael bury Dean in trauma?

CASTIEL (dropping his hand and turning towards Sam) What do you mean?

SAM I mean, Michael said it himself. The reason he left Dean in the first place was because Dean was fighting back so hard.

CASTIEL So, if Michael wanted to keep Dean placated...

SAM Dean thrives on trauma. I mean, he's had to his whole life, right? It keeps him alert, keeps him ready, but if I wanted to distract Dean, I-I... I'd give him something he's never had before.

CASTIEL Contentment.

SAM Exactly.

So maybe, instead of looking through his bad memories, maybe let's, uh... maybe let's look through his good memories.

Hmm. HMM. Where is this familiar? Thought-Boxes. Oh, and Thought-Boxes. Now, if you have ceased to think of heaven as a single place, but rather an infinite amount of non-spaces connected by a line of the mental road-- and I haven’t even GOTTEN to the Occultum part yet-- this should be ringing some bells right now.

DEAN It'll hold. My mind, my rules.

I got him. I'm the Cage.

Do not forget this. DO NOT FORGET THIS.

Now before I even deviate back to the full meaning of the Occultum, which will roll us back to the garden and the throne, I have a question for you: how is this different from Chuck having dominion in his own world? I mean people wanna yell IT’S REAL WORLD but I’m going to need everyone to stop. Because again, heaven is not a place within the universe. The universe is a place within the heavens. What divides it from being another Thought-Box beyond the fact that there are real souls in it, real people to have real experiences with?

This is actually the philosophical question of 15.2, but I’m not even ready to cross that bridge yet in this post. Thumbtack after thumbtack to keep track of, I know, but I’m getting to a point, I swear.

Chuck says in season 11 to Amara, “There’s a beauty, a glory in creation that’s greater than my pride or my ego. It was just there, waiting to be born. Since you’ve been free, I know that you’ve seen it. Felt it?” and looked to Amara. Amara also holds dialogue that Chuck and Amara were only Great because they stood in relation to each other, and he created the archangels to feel BIG, to make him feel LARGE. It was ego.

But that was just the beginning. This is... the rest.

youtube

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

What is it that keeps the world tick tick ticking in the absence of his oversight while he tries to corral stories for his Vision(TM)? Well, there’s a swiss watch, not too unlike hitler’s swiss watch that was like a horcrux, which saved his soul. But minding that the heavens themselves are timeless, what is it that commands that men live and move and eventually time?

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

God beholdens man to time. Because his own body is a cage. And I’ll even expand on that. And then, in confusion and fear, desperation to cling to life, one of several things happen.

Death is an infinite vessel.

I built the sandbox -- you play in it.

TESSA!REAPER It's my sandbox, I can make you see whatever I want.

...Death is an infinite vessel.

So let’s play a game. The clock stops for a person when the reaper comes to collect. Their time marching forward from Chuck’s sandbox, built over an infinite vessel of death, a firmament in which it exists-- that stops. They lose that cage, but may or may not still try to attach themselves to a universe.

They can no longer play in it properly. They watch it go by without them. They lose their minds, watching the things and people they love continue without them. They go mad and increase in power in spirit, and sometimes do lash out and become something else entirely.

T!REAPER Well, like you said. There's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. But you're not getting back in your body. And that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent.

DEAN What are you saying?

T!REAPER Dean. How do you think angry spirits are born? They can't let go and they can't move on. And you're about to become one.

So what happens to those that do move on?

CASTIEL: Each soul in heaven is locked in its own private paradise. That's where you are now. You need to escape. You need to find the gate to earth and open it. Then you and I will find Metatron, the Scribe of God.

[...]

BOBBY: So, while I'm playing Steve McQueen, anyone gonna be looking for me?

CASTIEL: Everyone. The Angels will not like a soul wandering free.

First of all, Dabb using “locked” is not a fluke. Notice the phrasing. Locked. Escape. “The angels will not like a soul wandering free.” Heaven has become a caging system, and it is patrolled by the forces Chuck created to be those who execute his will, wavelengths of intent created by grace that, in theory, do not have their own souls*

I’m not going to go into the entire breakdown of why I hold Castiel has something of a viable soul as a deviation, because that’s it’s own meta and this is going to be ridiculous enough, but we need to stay on the ~general~ topic of heaven and souls and Thought Boxes.

Because this isn’t new either.

SAM

Since when do angels feed on humans?

HOLLOWAY

Since the dawn of man.

SAM

What are you talking about?

HOLLOWAY

Your souls... Are little slices of heaven.

SAM

And they've been hunting humans, making them create heavens in their minds and feeding off them.

Hopefully I don’t have to dig all the way back to remind everyone of the premise of the entire season 6 plot or the final point of S11, where human souls are the ultimate infinite power reactor, and he who has the most souls is god (and able to defeat the darkness, too), right?

We all are vaguely aware of that at least, right? That was the entire Castiel dark arc and why he tried to soak up Purgatory and declared himself God, right?

Okay.

So with that in mind, let’s look back at the watch--it’s like a horcrux. GodHitler saved Their Souls. Their Literal Souls. Tick, tick, tick. Man remains subject to time. The angels won’t like a soul wandering free. Tick, tick, tick, tick.

But that’s still just the beginning. This is... still the rest.

“The light was a LIE.” - Amara.

He who has the most souls is god. What puts off more light and energy, what do angels feed on, what do they fight to keep contained, what gives god his power, why must they remain caged? If I wanted to keep Humanity placated, I’d give it Contentment. Locked in its own little personal paradise. You have to escape. But angels won’t like souls wandering free.

“In the beginning, there was just me and sis. But I wasn’t satisfied.”

Your story. Not mine. Not ours.

“There are billions of us,” Kali decreed, “And we were here first.” - Hammer of the Gods, Dabb.

People think this stands in contrast with the idea of late seasons, under Dabb era, but I invite you to continue breaking the linear thought box.

If for example, there was something in creation greater than his pride or ego, waiting to be born--something that just is, as chuck and amara just were--maybe something just sleeping, waiting to find a meaning to exist, perhaps even a hidden forefather of the idea of Being and Absence that is Chuck and Amara, as darkness is only the Absence of Light--and if there was a glory in chuck’s creation greater than his pride or his ego that just happened to be born, only to reject him?

What was the mother of monsters? Eve. She was thrown to purgatory. Coincidental name?

THE GIRL: You must not be human. Humans may not enter here. Are you an angel?

JACK: Um, it's a long story. Why do humans have to stay out?

THE GIRL: This is the Garden. Man's beginning.

JACK: You mean...Eden. Like Adam and Eve?

THE GIRL: God loved them so. His prize creations, until he banished them and all of mankind from the perfection of the Garden. And he hid it away.

Alright so ignoring creepy girl sort of absent spitting Chuck propaganda while vague floating around, let’s actually pick at this while doubling back:

SAM: This is heaven’s Garden?

DEAN: It’s-it’s nice… ish. I guess.

JOSHUA: You see what you want to here. For some it’s God’s throne room; for others it’s Eden. You two, I believe it’s the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. You came here on a field trip.

Okay, remember the above commentary? About throne vs garden, and hidden away?

So a creation greater than his pride or his ego simply was in the first Thought Box designed. This is the literal original Thought Box. This is where man in its purest form cropped up. I do beg you to ask though: minding that this is where Jack was reborn in Soul, are we entirely certain the idea of a body is even mandated in what defines humanity at this point?

And moreover, why did Chuck hide it?

In other posts, I’ve covered how Jack’s dialogue with the snake is a reflection of the dialogue of Poimandres from the Corpus Hermeticum (x), and I’ve been banging on with that accursed chart you’re all probably sick to death on about the stages of development, but hopefully I’ve ingrained that into some of your subconsciouses by now.

CASTIEL: Yeah, he is. But, um, something's different. Jack is, uh -- well, he's been to the Garden. That's the crossroads of divinity and humanity. No one's been there since the exile till now.

The crossroads of divinity and humanity is man’s beginning. You might even call it the... AXIS MUNDI. The AXIS. Of HEAVEN AND MANKIND. Also I have another post about “the union by which life exists” (x) and if you dive into the source text linked in the Jack post you’ll also read about that idea too. And that’s without even going into me sobbing violently about the use of the Occultum itself, which it and its verse is part of the Art arcana with all the Thoth tarot stuff I been talking (x)

This union isn’t even new to SPN, it’s just been more low-key. For example, in “The Thing”, the alternate god pours out human blood as “Light” and grace as “Life.”

At a quick glance at the fandom, this seems backwards, unless we review that Chuck’s light was a lie, and that all things divine are powered by the soul as the One True Thing -- a whole alchemical thing you’ll find me spraying about in my souls, pagan life and general my meta tags. The very line Cas had about Absence of Good even comes from this, but I’ll diverge into that at a later time.

If the constructed mental universe, Chuck’s Thought Box that the humans are shoved into in bulk after the exile from the garden that he hid away, is what have the cages of bodies subject to time, then grace is ironically Life as we know it, as opposed to eternal light, whereas souls powering it are the true Light, but by it Life As We Know It Exists.

Now Chuck can punish those who rebel, retrofit them with cursed bodies like monsters or even, say, pagan gods that then catch the flack of blame despite “being there first.” be that being on earth before angels came kicking around or being in the proverbial nonspace before Chuck kicked them out of his pet project for being uppity.

In fact, does anyone notice the Leviathans and Shadow are not so different even in appearance? But they never got the development of a true life, they never got to explore themselves, they were only quasi-dark-divine beings left to suffer and eat each other and birthed what we call “monsters” which also, well, have souls.

So no, there’s not even a break in continuity with the pagan god timeline, it just takes breaking the linear thinking box going on, especially three dimensional+time based thinking. Because we’re operating outside of that. Circle back to beginning: Stop trying to make heaven function within the universe. Remember, the universe functions within the heavens.

But god hid the first Thought Box away. The Garden. Which is at the center of it all, the magic kingdom. Which some people see as god’s throne. Angels. See it as god’s throne. There, at the heart of the mundi. The beginning, the center, and the end.

Humans aren’t allowed there.

Angels don’t like souls wandering free.

Chuck made them to feel big.

And Humanity stays placated with Contentment.

In order to be in the occultum, the occultum must be in you.

Or as it is in alchemical practice:

VISITA RECTIFICANDO INVENIES OCCULTUM LAPIDEM = visit the interior parts of the earth ; by rectification(purification) thou shalt find the hidden stone.

The philosopher’s stone isn’t a literal rock, it’s a manifestation of completion, finding the true self, making gold from the reflection of soul as the true thing through mind by exploring the body, both personal body and body of the earth.

These stages I’ve gonged on about start at phase one: Blackness, the Blackening, represented by the Inky Man and called the Shadow. This is not actually different from Jung’s use of the Shadow either.

The Shadow. The Thing that Rules the Empty, that was there before Chuck and Amara, and has no meaning to exist, who knows everything about you.

Can you throw a soul to the empty? Sure, I guess. Are we so sure that doesn’t just return you to the source? Even Amara says that when she eats souls, they live on as one within her. But if you are Within Absence, are you not simply Outside of Being?

If you dig deep enough in my pagan life or my meta tags, you’ll find me banging on about cosmoconception between the two, but it is fundamental to understand that the Soul even in alchemy is the One True Thing. The Mind reflects it, and by reflecting the Soul, it not only Observes but Creates the Body of the self and the World.

So again I point back up to stuff like Thought Boxes and Chuck as the Mind, and the maker of the first Thought Box where something had just been waiting to be born that was greater than him.

Who are you? Who are you meant to be?

I know who you hate, I know who you love. What do you want? Who are you? WHO. ART. THOU.

These are the critical stages of development, not even minding stuff like

I’ve gone on entire goddamn rants about the use of the blossom born out of putrefaction in purgatory, or the very meaning of putrefaction in the alchemical process: the breaking down and decay of a material of being to its blackened (shadow) state that leaves room for new growth to build on it over again.

If you skim these charts even passingly, which I have been posting on a loop for like 2 goddamn years, you’ll realize over those years Dabb has been playing paint-by-numbers across these points, because just like the other gnostic books or alchemical paths or cards I source, he’s using the source material. Just like Castiel’s quote about the absence of good. It’s all there.

This is ultimately an *aside* in a talk about Thought Boxes, but something worth touching on while we struggle across issues like the Soul, the Thought Box, and ultimately The Shadow. Because the Shadow is little more than the Shadow of man, often called in Alchemy The First Adam or The First Man. It is something beyond creation, even beyond the heavens, a paradox of itself I’ve spoken of before. Chuck is the demiurge religions call god; the Shadow of Man is the true god, and yet by living through the creation of the demiurge Logos, can become a more perfect god.

So rolling back to point:

In 15.2, Dean has a meltdown. Nothing in their lives is real, he declared. It was a dark and painful scene, but I feel in many ways fandom is still struggling to get past this road bump in the cosmogenic structure. What’s real then? Do they fight to go back to earth once they beat Chuck?

*pulls your thought box out of Chuck’s propaganda machine and HIS thought box*

The magic kingdom. The center of it all. The place man truly belongs. The throne. The garden. A nonplace and a thing hidden away and kept under lock and key and patrol.

What’s real? People, families. We are. Souls. That’s real. Souls are what power it all. Souls are what make one god. Souls are people and families. We are. Everything else here is commentary. They’re created spaces. And we can even create our own. The problem being we are caged apart in Chuck’s system to keep people placated, keep them in a system of control once his games subject to Time are done, but they stay distracted, never together, never able to resist.

...Open the door.

Just like Chuck did hell. Open the door. Open all of the doors. Set man free. Let him retake the throne, let him retake the garden. Let the walls be torn down and let them build new and infinite worlds.

Earth would be one of many heavens to still exist, but if Chuck was unplugged from controlling the souls in his codex of time, what power does he have? Nothing. Because the souls are God. Chuck is just a mind among many then, and those minds have since built diverse experiences inside the machine to create their own.

Sure, don’t just collapse earth. There’s still billions of us (hah, thanks Kali) that still have lives to live and decisions to make and autonomy to be had, loved ones to find. But free them of Chuck’s influence, build a better world, and leave a liberated heaven to enter.

I have propositions on the what-and-how this will go, among other things, but that’s beside the point in this already very long post.

If you’re still confused, I encourage you to view any of the videos I’ve posted over and over and over again, or skim my pagan life tag, or souls tag, or any of the related tags of this and, worst case if you’re still confused, send me an ask.

But the real reason Chuck banished Her? Why She Couldn’t Be Allowed To Exist?

He couldn’t stand it.

He knew they were equals.

#supernatural #spn #heaven #souls #pagan life #meta #my meta

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thefandomsinhalor · 3 years

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I’ve never done one of these so, here are my fics! All Spn. All posted on AO3.

Angelic Trickster Over Backstabbing Demons, Every Time

After Dean is sent to hell, accepting Ruby's offer to take down Lilith appears to be the most productive option for Sam. That is until a tricky visitor shows up.

Dear Temporary Neighbour

When Dean needs to remind himself how very much engaged his new summer neighbour is, he grows desperate and infuriated with himself for having fallen for him. If only he knew that Castiel has sought refuge at this charming house by the lake to reflect on certain aspects of his life, notably his engagement.

A Driver Worth His Salt

The job is simple: drive the passenger a few times a week to yet-undisclosed locations and return with said passenger without fail. Be on time. Be discreet. And never interact with each other outside of work. Once twenty-year-old Dean meets the passenger in question—the sharply dressed and rough-looking Castiel Novak—he finds that abiding by those shady rules may be more complicated than he had anticipated.

The Hunter’s Oath

Tasked with the important tradition of fulfilling an Oath to a celestial being, Dean is feeling the weight of loneliness more and more, after years of isolation on the mountain. Until one night, he is gifted a surprise: the god himself shows up with the desire to explore their bond for a time.

I Know Who I Am

Thriving at Stanford, Sam believes he is finally free to embrace who he really is. But it is easier said than done and his struggle to keep his identity intact is only beginning.

The Impetuous Engagement

On his way to his fiancé who he met online, Castiel somehow finds himself stuck in a small Alaskan village, cut off from the rest of the world and with no way of reaching him. But Castiel’s fellow passenger, Dean, is very eager to help him with housing, and perhaps something more as well…

Let Your Heart Be Light

On Christmas Eve, five-year-old Dean meets a boy of the same age, named Castiel. With every passing year, their friendship blossoms, and soon, Dean knows that he is drawn to his friend more deeply he’d like to admit.

The question is: will he do something about it before it’s too late?

The Lucky Pairs of Christmas Underwear

Sam and Dean are both disappointed when it appears that they won't be able to spend the holidays together—something they had always managed to do in the past—but this turn of events offers them both the opportunity to seek someone else to share their respective holidays with.

The Moonlight Rule

After the sudden passing of Henry Winchester, Castiel learns that the late Mr. Winchester made last minute changes in his will: Dean will only inherit the family ranch he’s been running, if he marries Castiel and stays married for at least six months.

My Cryo-Sleeping Beauty

With no memory of how this happened, Dean Winchester of Venandi wakes up on an unknown spaceship next to Castiel, a prisoner fresh out of cryo-sleep, as well as an old acquaintance of his.

Pie Makes Everything Better

It’s Thanksgiving and Dean is desperate for an apple pie. Luckily, there is still one bakery that appears to be open and Dean finds the cashier to be very kind and handsome.

The Silence of Souls

After casting a spell to help Mary cross back to their universe, Team Free Will, with Jack by their side, ready to assist them against any surging danger, unleashed Godstiel, the Boy King of Hell and Deanmon, bearer of the mark of Cain upon the world.

The Tricky Task of Persuading Gabriel

At the very first Supernatural Convention, Sam, Dean and Castiel attempt to convince Gabriel to join them against Lucifer. And Gabriel doesn’t miss the opportunity to have some fun at the event.

The Waltz of Shilly-Shallying

Crushing on each other for quite some time, Dean and Castiel both hesitate to make a move. One thinks the feeling isn’t mutual while the other figures it’s best to focus on his familial duties and remain friends. That is until they find themselves under the mistletoe.

The Week-Long Sleepover and the Opportunity to End Denial

When Castiel stays over at the Winchesters for a week, Sam thinks it's the perfect occasion for "just best friends" Dean and Castiel to finally admit their feelings. He offers Castiel assistance and Gabriel meddles (of course) while hunting for his elusive secret admirer.

What the Heart Misses

After learning that the Winchesters and Jack celebrated Christmas with Mrs. Butters, Castiel takes the opportunity to give Dean a Christmas present. Which then prompts Dean to reflect on the nature of their bond.

The Winchester Breakfast Special

Watching Dean cook breakfast after a long night of steamy passion is something Castiel gets to witness on nearly every Sunday morning. The only problem is that the meal in question is never cooked for him: He’s just the roommate.

And more fics to come!

* fics written for a challenge

(updated April 2021)

#spn fanfic #destiel fic #sabriel fanfic #my spn fanfic masterpost #supernatural #destiel fluff #destiel angst #sabriel #destiel #spn fandom #spn fam #spn family

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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 4 years

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Fantasies, dreams and desires, ideas of normalcy and fears of difference. A slightly queer reading of 15x14

Mrs Butters is a delightful character who is built to parallel so many things in the show. She occupies perfectly the semantic sphere that the narrative has crafted around Dean’s desires; also, you know, cake.

We could talk for days about the significance of food and drink in Supernatural. One of the biggest themes that run through the entire show is hunger (or thirst) and food is very often a symbol for an emotional need of sorts. Supernatural draws a lot folklore, and human stories have always used symbologies that put together food, desire, love, sex, family, goodness and darkness and all those human experiences.

We have discussed the shit out of every instance of food in the show, analyzed parallels to other stories and fairytales, scrutinized queer-codings and subtexts, got called nasty names by impolite people accusing us of saying that a slice of baked good means Dean likes sitting on dicks. So, yeah, I’m not gonna start explaining everything from the beginning. Let’s jump to the parallels.

- The comfort food. Motherhood, hugs, and the past that can never return: the ideal of childhood and the 50s fantasy

We’ve already talked about how Mrs Butters functions as a parallel to Mary and a symbol of the ideal motherhood that both Mary and Dean struggled with. In Dark Side Of The Moon, we see a memory from Dean’s childhood, where we learn that Mary would cut off the crusts off his sandwiches. Mrs Butters also says that she cut the crusts off, establishing a direct parallel to Dean’s ideal of childhood and child-parent relationship. Or, we should say, as both Mary’s and Dean’s ideals of a child-parent relationship, because we know that Mary set up her life with John and the kids as an elaborate “scene” according to her idea-slash-fantasy of the perfect safe life.

She strugged with that, because her ideal life could never match with reality - she had loose ends from hunting to deal with, she at some level liked having those loose ends to deal with because as much as she hated the hunting life and craved for safety and “normalcy” that was still something she was in her element doing, probably more than the perfect housewife role. Of course when she came back she attempted to recreate the scene but quickly discovered that it was impossible and dropped all attempts to do so, embracing the opposite, or at least what she perceived as the opposite (having a pretty dualistic view of hunting life-domestic life where they cannot be reconciled).

Dean, on the other hand, started out with a similar dualistic view, figuring that he’d always belong to the hunting world and could never have the domestic, “normal” thing at all, embracing his “freakness” as opposed to the concept of normalcy represented by civilians, by the middle class, by the suburbs, by the apple pie, white fence life (insert heavy queer subtext here). And yet there was always an ambiguity with him (again, he’s never one-or-the-other, he’s always both), because, while on the surface he embraces this rebellious, devil-may-care persona, that’s not quite what he is as a full individual. He grew up essentially a housewife from a very early age, has a very caregiving personality, and thrives in taking care of others.

Dean is both Mrs Butters and Mary, where the difference between him and Mary is that Mary couldn’t (didn’t have the time, support, resources?) reconcile parts of her that Dean instead was able to (and in fact recently helped her with: before dying, she’d reached a pretty healthy balance of living her own life as a hunter and having a warm relationship with her sons, at least as healthy as it can get in that kind of circumstances).

Another important parallel to Dark Side Of The Moon, borrowed by Scoobynatural, is the nightgown that feels like being wrapped in hugs: we are reminded of Dean’s “I wuv hugz” from when he was a kid, a symbol for his early life of affection and safety that he lost with his mother. Childhood hugs, comfort food, loving gestures like cutting off the crusts are all symbols of a past that cannot return.

On a level, from a “coming-of-age story” perspective, childhood, with its innocence and perception that adults will always keep us safe, is obviously something that everyone needs to accept as something that belongs to the past and cannot return, to embrace instead the responsibilities and risks of adulthood in a healthy way. In a sense, Dean needs to go through all these steps - acknowledging that his mother was a flawed person, that in fact both of his parents were flawed people who made mistakes but he can forgive them for his own sake in order to be able to let go of trauma and carry on... - to become a healthy adult able to be a good parent to his own child.

(There’s also the cholesterol thing - Mrs Butters chastizes Dean for his diet, but we know that there’s a depth to Dean’s diet, not only his extreme appreciation of food due to experiencing food scarcity and insecurity as a child, but also the memory of his mother’s comfort food, such as the “Winchester surprise”, a monstrosity of meat and cheese. While the “meat man” persona would appear on the surface as a sterotypical masculinity thing, it has layers, in a typical Dean fashion... not coincidentally, in the latest episode he calls himself the meat man while wearing an apron that we’re told he’s very fond of, painting him, again, in a mixture of different meanings, masculinity and femininity, fatherhood and motherhood, devil-may-care attitude and caregiver attitude.)

On another level, a more political level, there’s the 50s fantasy element. We all know the significance of the idealization of the post-war period as the “good ol’ times” in American culture, and it’s an ideal that Mary definitely drew from when she built her perfect life with her family. Mrs Butters represents this in a very literal way, being literally from 1958 when she “froze” herself, and acts as a very stereotyped governess for a bunch of men that feel like they are above housework, what is considered women’s work. Dean initially comments “how progressive”, knowing exactly how bullshit these conversative ideals are, but then appreciates the comforts of the perfect caretaker.

In fact, Dean’s “giving in” to the comforts of a governess makes me think of that famous feminist manifesto “I want a wife” by Judy Syfers... because housework is very much Dean’s work in the bunker. It’s interesting that Mrs Butters immediately comments negatively on the cleanness of the bunker and their clothes: we know that Dean cleans and washes, and, while it’s likely that he cannot keep everything super perfect like a governess would because he’s busy doing many other things, it’s a way Mrs Butters uses to establish roles that she knows and is comfortable with. She is used to being the one who does “feminine” work while the Men of Letters have absolutely zero skills in that regard, and doesn’t really even stop to question if that’s the case with the men in front of her.

Anyway, let’s go back to the 50s fantasy. The show has repeatedly made commentaries on the vacuity of it. Peace Of Mind is the most obvious instance, but there’s plenty of subtext in the show that deals with that typically American aspect. Just like the childhood aspect, the narrative tells us that the “good ol’ times” are also an idealized thing that cannot return (if it ever existed, because Dean’s childhood was built on a fantasy, and the “good ol’ times” are also a fantasy, because the real 50s were horrible for anyone who didn’t swim in privilege). Mrs Butters cannot stay, the 50s fantasy-slash-childhood fantasy cannot last, and Dean embraces his role as an adult-slash-modern housemaker. Blah blah gender, blah blah cake. (Yeah, sorry, but you can fill in the blanks.)

- The contaminated drink. Poison and weakness from the forbidden sexual desire to the forbidden family domesticity

Aaaand now the second branch of parallels that Mrs Butters pinged on my radar, which sends us in an even more queer-subtext-heavy territory. We’re going to talk about the smoothies and the tomato juice. Yes, I know, the smoothies are given to Jack, not Dean, but symbolically Dean and Jack share the same semantic area; both are given a magically conjured drink, and both end up locked away waiting to be killed. For this analysis, they basically overlap.

Let’s start with the tomato juice. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that Dean is given something that visually reminds of the blood the vampires drink. The tomato juice is a stand-in for blood, and blood in relation to vampirism has a long history of subtext in the show that connects to sexuality, sex, sexual fears and contamination. While vampires are not necessarily always invested of those meanings every single time they appear in the three-hundred-whatever episodes of the show, their main symbology is connected to sex and sexual fears, as vampires do in modern western literature, after all.

You’re probably going to think, wait, what? What has Mrs Butters got to do with sexual fears? Yeah, I know, it sounds weird, but hear me out.

The tomato juice - a stand-in for blood, with a vampire reference - parallels Mrs Butters (who represents trauma, remember) to 6x05 Live Free Or TwiHard. Sexual assault, blood, contamination via the poisoning liquid.

Next to the tomato juice there’s the smoothie. It’s a poison in disguise, a contaminated drink that makes Jack weak. We have, in fact, a pattern of Dean being given contaminated drinks that place him under another’s power. Not just the vampire’s blood, but also Jeremy from 3x10 Dream A Little Dream Of Me, who offers Dean a beer through which he connects him to his dreams. There’s Nick the siren from 4x14 Sex And Violence, who contaminates Dean through the flask. The venom in the siren’s saliva parallels straight to the gorgon Noah in 14x14 Ouroboros, and I don’t have to start explaining what all those things represent, right? (I have written posts about these things, it would be nice if tumblr didn’t suck and showed them to me when I go look for them.)

(Oh, there’s also Crowley’s human blood addiction, which is not, as one might expect, a parallel to Sam’s demon blood addition, but Dean’s First Blade/Mark Of Cain issue, and the First Blade/Mark Of Cain arc is all imbued by the queer subtext of the Dean-Crowley-Castiel triangle.)

Basically, Mrs Butters is inserted in a history of queer subtext, although it appears as obvious that Mrs Butters hardly represents homosexual desire, unless we go a pretty stretchy route of her occupying Cas’ space in the Dean-Sam-Cas-Jack family (I mean, that’s true, but it’s not simply that). It is also true that Mrs Butters represents Cuthbert Sinclair, and here the radar pings, because Cuthbert Sinclair is totally inside the pattern! He wanted to make Dean part of his collection just like the vampire in 6x05 wanted to make Dean part of his pack, with supernatural means of exorting control over Dean and heavy heavy rapey tones. (I know we don’t like to talk about this, but the show does play with incest subtext, John mirrors are often rapey.)

So, we have all this semantic area of poison, weakness and submission to external control painted in overtones of sexual assault and sexual fears especially in relation to homosexual desire. (I am NOT linking homosexual desire to sexual assult, nor the show is, it’s a wide and volatile semantic area where the common denominator is fear, fear of being hurt FOR being different sexually, it’s about vulnerability because of being different. It’s a horror narrative, guys, remember, queer fear is a recurrent theme in the genre. Dracula was about the horror of what happened to Oscar Wilde, we’re running in circles.)

Now, what kind of fear is explored in 15x14? Well, the episode is about the fear of losing family. The plot is about Dean’s feelings towards Jack after he killed Mary. Dean doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to lose Cas soon also because of Jack. Mary and Cas are both very noisy absences in the episode, and we know that Dean is going to suffer something horrific again that will shatter his family again. This goes past the fears regarding forbidden sexual desire: we’re in the territory of forbidden familial desire, so to speak, Dean’s craving for a domestic peace with his family.

Jack is both the culmination of Dean’s process of family-building, as the son figure of the family, and the element of destruction of that family-building. Not a coincidence Jack’s birthday was referenced, as Jack’s birth coincided with Cas’ death and Mary’s supposed death or at least separation. Now Jack has supposedly killed Mary (or is it a inter-universe separation again? @drsilverfish’s theory always pops up, and we keep getting reminded of other universes - the telescope is broken...) and we know that Cas’ ultimate death hangs above us.

We’re always running in a spiral, Dean’s relationship with Mary, Dean’s relationship with Cas, Dean’s relationship with motherhood and gender roles, Dean’s relationship with sexuality. There’s a big picture of mirrors in the semantic area of fantasies, idealizations, desires and dreams. I hope I managed to make this post make sense, but I’m always open to requests of clarification or elaboration. Thanks for reading!

#my spn thoughts #spn meta #spn 15x14 #queer subtext #dean and femininity #dean and masculinity #dean and food #dean and mary #dean and childhood #dean and sexuality #dean and family #spn

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septembersghost · 3 years

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isn't dean's heaven eventually going to be lonely/ruined if blurry wife and the kid show up? i keep wondering this

this post began in one place, got away from me (not unusual), and ended up somewhere radically different. it’s probably one of the stranger/longest pieces I’ve ever cobbled together for public consumption about this, and who knows if it’s even coherent (since it was written off-and-on over the span of like 18 hours), but it’s a whole look into my psyche’s vibe and lamentations, and it ended up being like a personal therapy session/exorcism, so we're going to embrace its madness.

the short answer? will his heaven eventually be lonely or ruined? no. don’t you worry your pretty little mind.

quick update, I was literally in the midst of writing this and got another anon adjacent to this topic:

I hear where you’re coming from, but Dean would never leave Sam behind (it’s who he is. being given a life that doesn’t include Sam isn’t something Dean would accept, especially not after being reunited. being on his own permanently is not happiness for him. I’ve gladly imagined him having adventures on his own, to decompress, but he would always return home again, we know the import and comfort that holds. I would rather him get the chance to live a full life he wants than never get to live at all, so to wholly love him, it’s not my place to take that inclusion of Sam from him, and I wouldn’t). besides, the life Sam got was NOT the life Sam wanted, at all. he hadn’t wanted that for a long time, and consequently, it was entirely shrouded in grief. he lived in memoriam of his brother, but is that truly living? or is it existing to pass the time until you’re also given permission to die (which is what happened)? I don’t want Dean having a half-life too, waiting for the day when he can get back to heaven again. the whole purpose should have been for them to grow and heal and thrive while still being a significant, positive part of one another’s lives, a permanent separation was one of the major things I did not want, because healing fully as whole people is impossible if they’re split apart. they cannot make progress that way. you can’t move past trauma when apocalypses and life-or-death situations and new traumas are constantly being piled on top of the old ones. there are things they needed to work through, conclusively, together, given space and time and catharsis. what we got was my worst nightmare of an ending, in every agonizing way specifically for Dean, but also for both of them. it was a total desecration of their respective arcs.

as a Dean girl with every fiber of my being, which I think I’ve made clear...before I try to delve into this, let me go on record again to say I love him first and foremost, consider him fundamentally his own person, wish I could protect him and restore his agency, wish I could give him freedom and joy and a life, and hate this ending. Dean was constantly mistreated, and undermined, and then slaughtered in a way that could never rectify it. and clashing portions of the fandom keep perpetually diminishing him (for the sake of other characters, for the sake of ships, the discourse over which has burned me out), and I KNOW it can feel like a battle between those of us who love Dean most vs. everyone else, and that puts us into defensive positions, baring our teeth for him. the situations in parts of the fandom lately have been nearly as difficult to witness, in some ways, as the ending itself for me. I’ll ferociously love him with my fangs and my claws out whenever I need to, but my inherently delicate self is not a huge fan of having to be in that defensive space continually.

the long answer to the original question gets into codependency issues and the way they simply are a part of this journey, and what that episode canonically told us, and I get deep into some analysis of foundational genre principles and heroic archetypes here, so I’m putting it under a cut for the sake of anyone who might be uncomfortable with that/who does not have an investment in their bond/who doesn’t want Sam included (we’re completely cool, I am just not personally in that place now)/who is understandably upset about the finale in general. (also because it is indeed LENGTHY, and it is more comprised of Dean feelings, and there’s poetry quotes, then I threw in pictures to break up the walls of text. unhinged.)

first, do I need to reiterate it in sparkly letters before I discuss anything else? I will:

as I’ve already also made clear in other anon messages, I do not hate Sam, despite he and I having issues, and some of my criticisms therein, and I could delve into them, but that is not what this post is for. this last season actually ended up making me oddly protective of Sam in a way I haven’t been since the olden days, I think because it was so punishing to them both. a friend (also a forever Dean girl) and I were discussing this, and she said to me that it can feel like a competition (as if a side is more worthy), and that was ruining her ability to enjoy the show at one point, and same. I loved Dean unreservedly from the start. in those early pre-Tumblr days, though, I was invested in them both. the show eroded that a bit, but fandom affected my point of view far more, because there was noise and vitriol and takes I disagreed with so much about Dean that I had an equal/opposite reaction. it was contentious for me for longer than it should have been, and there were times when I bitterly resented fanon!Sam, which rippled to canon!Sam, but it made the show tougher for me. I had to, as our boy said, make like Elsa, and let it go. what I can’t do anymore is play the "perception < suffering = greater validity” game. certain parts of fandom have spent YEARS disregarding Dean’s suffering and Dean’s personhood, and they are STILL doing it, and it hurts/insults/infuriates me, but I am not interested in doing the flipside of that. they both suffered more than enough. I’d choose Dean every time and go down swinging for him, but I am aware Dean would not be thrilled with that, because Dean would choose his brother. I can’t pit them against one another when their dynamic is the core of the story. it doesn’t mean no one else matters, you ought to be able to tell how I love the secondary and extended supporting characters, but it was undeniably the Winchesters’ story. it began with their reunion and centered on their bond, and (as much as it wounds me how it was done) it ultimately ended there. I’m not saying anyone is required to love them both, I’m just saying, for me, it’s the only way I can have any sliver of peace, and I need that. after fifteen years, I have to grant myself that.

the claims that Sam didn’t care about Dean actively hurt me as well, it is SUCH a hopeless (and untrue) read of the narrative, and I cannot live in a space that devoid of hope. there is also an abundance of intelligent-yet-hopeless meta going around dedicated to Dean, his ending, his abuse/trauma/struggles, specifically right now, and I find myself agreeing with almost all of it, and I have admittedly contributed to some of it in my own writing too, but the fact of the matter is, it is further deteriorating my mental health, and my mental health (even with Dean and SPN aside) is not great! so. my conundrum has been - do I allow under forty minutes of an ugly episode to destroy fifteen years of attachment and investment from somewhere that I found meaning and gleaned strength at my lowest, most damaged, most fragile points, and found enjoyment (even contrarily and in spite of itself) at better points? it’s tainted regardless, that’s unavoidable, but am I really going to give one pathetic writer the power to trample over a story I held on for, and a character so alive and transformative for me that I loved him as much as I have loved real people? (hence the real grief.) no, he (and the rest of the writers’ room) absolutely does not deserve that much recognition. Dean is still Dean (*reclaims still beautiful, still Dean Winchester*, still mine in my heart, as he is for everyone who loves him), Dean still feels like home, Dean is still a beacon in the dark. how dare anyone try to steal that away? yet to get even a modicum of recovery, I have to start coming at this from angles that are not empty misery alone. the chasm remains, believe me, but I’m granting myself the use of a flashlight.

some of Sam’s characterization was sanded down over time, but the love between them is the one constant. we understand a whole host of their blood/found family are supposed to be in heaven, and they’re people we know too - their parents (which...yeah, I know, there are so many problems to unpack, BUT think about Dean and Dean’s well-being and Dean’s heart’s desires, he would not actually be okay with their parents not being there, or even with Mary but not John - I’m mad about how the narrative treated Mary forever - so while I personally would like to knock John to the floor, I think first and foremost about Dean, and I get why he needs both of them there), Bobby, Charlie, the Harvelles, etc. it’s a hunter’s heaven, because that’s how they were all connected. that was their existence. let’s be honest, this heaven is shaped by Dean’s imprint.

(Castiel being there breaks the narrative irreparably - either keep him in the Empty, where he cannot help, or bring him back to earth, and somehow circumvent the outcome of 15x20 altogether. Sam’s and Dean’s arcs were ruined? well, putting Castiel in heaven renders his entire arc and sacrifice - the only thing in S15 that ultimately made narrative sense - inert. you’re telling me he did that, he willingly died because he loved Dean, and Dean was so valuable and he recognized Dean’s love as essential to the universe, and then he let Dean die impaled and terrified, with a stricken Sam, in the dark, after the world’s most pointless fight? because he was, what, swanning around “fixing” heaven? ummmm. not the Castiel I know.)

it’s ludicrous, but I digress! for the purposes of this thought experiment, we thus have to avoid Cas altogether from this point forward, because Cas healing him is the easiest, most obvious fix.

if anyone, shouldn’t Jess be there for Sam? Sam went so far as to mention that he still thought about her this season. but she isn’t, she would have her own place, with her own family. he still lived with that anguish after fifteen years, and it was understandable. now think about why him losing Dean is catastrophic.

Sam is a pent-up ball of issues. (so is Dean! they are shattering. but since you asked about what you specifically asked, let’s look at Sam for a minute.) buried rage and grief, but expressed and experienced differently than Dean’s rage and grief, they share their childhood trauma but their trauma is not the same, an addictive personality (it’s not just the demon blood), shifting identity and ego (remember when he said he believed he was unclean, even when he was a kid? Dean can adapt and glimmer and change shape to fit in, to please and/or care for others, but he’s always wholly himself at the center. Sam shifts and changes for very different purposes), rebelliousness mixed with recklessness mixed with relentlessness, self-loathing that he papers over with certain degrees of narcissism and hubris so that it feels less like self-loathing, but when he breaks, it’s desolate. he has faith that keeps being spat back at him (note that Dean, the “faithless” one, ends up being the one who more often prays, yet Sam is the one who tries to believe in a light at the end of the tunnel, and he never finds it, he never gets them there), a need to prove himself and be seen as right and independent and intelligent and in a certain light. needing and looking to his brother. wishing he didn’t need and look to his brother because he’s supposed to want to be “free.” needing and looking to him anyway. he is terrified of failing. (“You want to know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down. I can't do that again.”) they both have strong morals and ideals, but those don’t always align. he can be pragmatic, and he can be ruthless and berserk. he said, “I believe in us!” and punched his brother in the face, then clung to him like he was drowning. he killed Bobby, with only a hunch that it wasn’t Bobby, in his pursuit of the Trickster to undo Mystery Spot. he was willing to become an immortal, organ thieving monster to keep his brother alive. he tried to trade himself to a crossroads demon. he wanted to rip open the devil’s gate. we may still get mad at him for purgatory, but he hated himself and regretted that (that was also lazy, bad writing, where they felt some vapid need to parallel Dean/Lisa and Sam in the cage, only it did not work with the Amelia storyline in ANY way). he told Cas he was willing to work with anyone, do anything, to get his brother back. the list goes on. he is not okay without him. he is not okay, generally. I mean, hello:

as for Dean...Jensen once said, “I think Dean, I think he needs that pain, he needs that responsibility, he needs that burden in his life to kind of validate it. I think without that he feels aimless, and without direction. So I think he gravitates towards the painful version of himself. And taking on that heavy responsibility, carrying the guilt that goes along with the decisions that he makes, I think that that’s something he needs in his life because there’s a certain validation there for him. I think that was obvious when he tried to become a domesticated guy, and even though he got kind of pulled back into it, I think once he got back into it, he was like ‘You know what, this is where I feel like I’m needed, this is where I feel like I’m worth something, this is where I feel my most purpose’. And I think along with that comes the responsibility of being an older brother, and the guilt that he has due to decisions that he’s made in the past. So I think that’s just a part of what makes him tick.”

I found a post on my oldest blog where I had written (in March 2013): “i want dean’s anger. i want him vicious and hungry and ready to wield his vengeance like a sword, expel his wrath until everyone is cowering before him. because he never gets to have that. it simmers underneath, it’s suppressed, it’s silenced. and it’s eating him alive - it was long before purgatory, i imagine part of why purgatory felt “pure” was because his anger became a sense of clarity there, added fuel to his purpose. there he could blaze and scorch with impunity because it was about survival. containing himself - all the layers of himself, not just anger but grief and cunning and exhaustion and even love - that’s harder now than it was before, because in purgatory he was able to run free in a very particular sense. and i want it let out, i want every single facet of him, untempered and blinding and terrifying and beautiful. and i’m sick of anger and depression being stigmatized, i’m waiting for the moment when he breaks and lets it loose, because it will be glorious.” he almost got this, but notice he was shamed and punished for it. and then he was killed. usually, though, what he got was Bukowski: “those who escape hell, however, never talk about it...”

Dean is a nurturer, Dean is a warrior, he was forced to be both, sometimes he’d rather be neither, his humanity does not begin nor does it end at either of those points. he feels better when he’s caring for others, except for when it’s such a strain that it wears him down. he can’t afford to feel anything. he feels everything. he subverts stereotypes and assumptions, there are moments when he subverts himself. saying he is soft never means he isn’t dangerous. I also wrote once: “it is possible to be both caregiver and killer - he’s existed within the confines of both for most of his life, and the lines blur seamlessly together to the point where his ability to care (to love, to protect) takes on a distinct note of violence.”

Dean’s multitudes and qualities, that caregiver role (both innate care and understanding, and pushed upon him unduly as a parentified child), his emotional complexities, his empathy, his graciousness, his depression (his alcoholism, which was never addressed), his righteousness, his judgement, his fury, his tenderness, his longing to be the protector and safe haven leading to controlling instincts, his self-loathing/self-esteem issues and suicidal ideation and the way they eat at him and cause him to make rash, self-sacrificial decisions, cause him to commodify his body and disassociate from his own worth, his fear of abandonment, the reasons why he calls people he loves and attaches to his “family,” his PTSD, the way his love is intimate and affirming and large and terrifying all at once, these are things we could discuss endlessly, too. he could’ve stopped soldiering on, he could’ve stopped being the source of constant support, but then he’s not himself. Dean without any of these facets is no longer Dean. he was carefully constructed, his relationships were the most intricate, his characterization the most consistent.

the fact that we love him so infinitely and the narrative didn’t...find me at any given moment like:

they are not allowed to exhale. they are not allowed to lay their armor down and simply be. neither of them are okay. their relationship is not “normal,” and that’s not a condemnation. trying to moralize it is a futile exercise in a story like this, where there are literal monsters and constant fights to the death, and our heroes are capable of small mercies and radiant redemption, and are also cold, precise killers. how COULD they be normal? the way they grew up, only truly having one another? the way they had to exist around neglect and burden and otherness? the way they were treated like soldiers as children? the destinies that were foisted upon them? in the post I made about generational trauma (and I apologize, I’m going to end up linking back to my own posts here a lot because it’s easier than restating them), I was trying to somehow unearth this, because this is part of it - all of that echoes through them, but they respond to it in an unexpected way, that is where free will comes into play, overturns the board. their compassion stands in defiance of it. the meaning of them mirroring one another as archangelic vessels alone sets them apart. tangled up desperation in their bond to one another being what grounds them and keeps them human, even when it also wounds them (and others)? like, YEAH, it’s codependent, they never pretended it wasn’t. it’s messy and painful and puts barbed wire between them and the world, and causes them to do impulsive, selfish, boundary breaking things, and on the flipside, it’s powerful and bright because there’s so much humanity and salvation in it, because it is their anchor when they cannot find the surface on their own, because so much of that extends outwards to their empathy and kindness for others, to their protective instincts for others. we get all these moments of admission in varying contexts that they’d die for one another, their drive was to never give up on one another, the purpose in the end ought to have been that they could finally live:

if they didn’t hold the love for one another that they do, they couldn’t have the love they’re capable of for everyone else. it makes them unique in their harsh world. it just is. it’s part of the fabric of their souls. they could’ve worked on mending it, on some measure of recovery, if they’d had the room to process portions of their trauma, to paraphrase what another friend said to me recently, to FEEL what they’d been through, to relax, to breathe, but they weren’t given that. I wanted nothing more than to see them gain some measure of healing together in the end, alive and free. they were robbed of that. they were robbed of so many things I could’ve envisioned or the endings that I would have embraced.

that said, if I wanted healthy dynamics all along, this is not the show where I would’ve invested fifteen years, but I am a capital r-Romantic. Supernatural is a Gothic (employs dark and picturesque scenery, startling and melodramatic narrative devices, and an overall atmosphere of exoticism, mystery, fear, and dread x) horror Romance somehow masquerading as, yet also intrinsically, a genre horror/religious allegory/Americana road trip/silly CW show. lest you be confused by the use of that R-word, let’s define what that means, because our society has muddled it, and it is valuable (and my favorite) as an artistic movement:

The movement emphasized intense emotion as an authentic source of aesthetic experience, placing new emphasis on such emotions as apprehension, horror and terror, and awe—especially that experienced in confronting the new aesthetic categories of the sublimity and beauty of nature. It elevated folk art and ancient custom to something noble, but also spontaneity as a desirable characteristic. [...] Romanticism assigned a high value to the achievements of "heroic" individualists and artists, whose examples, it maintained, would raise the quality of society. It also promoted the individual imagination as a critical authority allowed of freedom from classical notions of form in art. [...] in the realm of ethics, politics, aesthetics it was the authenticity and sincerity of the pursuit of inner goals that mattered; this applied equally to individuals and groups—states, nations, movements. This is most evident in the aesthetics of romanticism, where the notion of eternal models, a Platonic vision of ideal beauty, which the artist seeks to convey, however imperfectly, on canvas or in sound, is replaced by a passionate belief in spiritual freedom, individual creativity. The painter, the poet, the composer do not hold up a mirror to nature, however ideal, but invent; they do not imitate (the doctrine of mimesis), but create not merely the means but the goals that they pursue; these goals represent the self-expression of the artist's own unique, inner vision, to set aside which in response to the demands of some "external" voice—church, state, public opinion, family friends, arbiters of taste—is an act of betrayal of what alone justifies their existence for those who are in any sense creative.

The movement is also associated with a newfound interest in oral tradition and folk culture in general, seen both as a source of inspiration and an object of study. Romantic authors were also interested in the intensity of human emotions, fear included. Many of their works fit into the Gothic Horror genre.

Romanticism introduced to us the Romantic, and by extension Byronic, hero.

the Romantic hero:

the Romantic hero is often "placed outside the structure of civilization and therefore represents the force of physical nature, amoral or ruthless, yet with a sense of power, and often leadership, that society has impoverished itself by rejecting". Other characteristics of the Romantic hero include introspection, the triumph of the individual over the "restraints of theological and social conventions", wanderlust, melancholy, misanthropy, alienation, and isolation. However, another common trait of the Romantic hero is regret for their actions, and self-criticism, often leading to philanthropy. Usually estranged from his more grounded, realist biological family and leading a rural, solitary life, the Romantic hero may nevertheless have a long-suffering love interest, him or herself victimised by the hero's rebellious tendencies, with their fates intertwined for decades, sometimes from their youths to their deaths.

the Byronic hero:

A Byronic hero can be conceptualized as an extreme variation of the Romantic hero archetype. Traditional Romantic heroes tend to be defined by their rejection or questioning of standard social conventions and norms of behavior, their alienation from larger society, their focus on the self as the center of existence, and their ability to inspire others to commit acts of good and kindness. Romantic heroes are not idealized heroes, but imperfect and often flawed individuals who, despite their sometimes less than savory personalities, often behave in a heroic manner. According to many literary critics and biographers, Lord Byron developed the archetype of the Byronic hero in response to his boredom with traditional and Romantic heroic literary characters. Byron, according to critics and biographers, wanted to introduce a heroic archetype that would be not only more appealing to readers but also more psychologically realistic. The archetype of the Byronic hero is similar in many respects to the figure of the traditional Romantic hero. Both Romantic and Byronic heroes tend to rebel against conventional modes of behavior and thought and possess personalities that are not traditionally heroic. However, Byronic heroes usually have a greater degree of psychological and emotional complexity than traditional Romantic heroes. Byronic heroes are marked not only by their outright rejection of traditional heroic virtues and values but also their remarkable intelligence and cunning, strong feelings of affection and hatred, impulsiveness, strong sensual desires, moodiness, cynicism, dark humor, and morbid sensibilities.

TRAITS OF THE BYRONIC HERO

presents obsessive tendencies; focused and constant

typically has one all-consuming passion

passionate; has deep emotions

arrogant

cynical; sarcastic

sophisticated and educated; or even street smart

intellectually superior

cunning behavior; ability to adapt

a troubled past and/or suffering from a hidden crime or past sin

self-critical and introspective

mysterious and charismatic

seductive and can be very sexually attractive

moodiness; tortured

isolated (this can be both emotional and physical) from society in some way; an outcast or an outlaw

dark attributes

disregard for rank and privilege

above the rules of society; distaste for social institutions

jaded, gets easily bored

self-destructive behavior

sympathetic despite his rejection of virtue

capable of being redeemed

capable of heroic behavior

individualistic

rejection of classicism

While a Byronic Hero can have many of these traits, they won’t necessarily have all of them. It should also be pointed out a character may have a few of these traits and not be Byronic as well. Of course, some characters will constantly be up for discussion and debate.

Sam and Dean do not have some of the unlikability that characterizes many Byronic types (though they may not always be likable), they have the psychological/emotional depths yet lean more towards pure Romantics in action a lot of the time, but how many of those traits do they alternately embody? Romanticism is decidedly sincere and impassioned and redemptive, it is not the model of the antihero (Byronic heroes get conflated with antiheroes, but the types aren’t the same). antiheroes are something that, despite their flaws and mistakes and the blood soaking their hands, the Winchesters never are, either. (Romanticism itself can be cast in chiaroscuro and tumultuous crimson, haunted, wandering the wilderness.) they are flawed protagonist heroes (one of the few things S15 did right was highlighting this conclusion). they strove constantly to do better, and never believed how good they were, yet inspired kindness and bravery in others. they were sympathetic and courageous even when struggling, even after transgressions. they never wanted the violence or the destruction, but they chose to continue to fight and be champions to save people. (it is saving people, first.) the Winchesters are many definitions because they fit and also deconstruct a variety of archetypes, but at their centers for me, personally, because it is My Thing, they have always been Romantic heroes. they’re brothers, so they break the mold of it in certain respects - the youth to death connective golden thread unfurls between them in a distinctive way - and it is filtered through modernism and pop culture and an American ideal (then upended), but it’s still their basis, more than perhaps any other modern male heroes I’ve seen on television (and exemplified ESPECIALLY in Dean, likely the formative reason WHY I first fell in love with him is based here, and then it grew outwardly and blossomed from that point, as did he. teenaged me was all about the Romantic/Byronic heroes. frankly, if you didn’t go through copious angst over Heathcliff and Rochester and The Phantom of the Opera and Interview with the Vampire, and, for me, even Anakin Skywalker, I’m a mess but I’m the mess that you wanted, well...I don’t know what to tell you. for the record, I was obsessed with the heroines in all those stories too. I won’t get into any sort of subtextual coding here because it’s a complex and semi-controversial topic, and it doesn’t erase/alter other true things at all, but it does have its place in the discussion.

Dean blazed into life on that screen in September 2005, and I went, “yes, him,” and it took me a while to realize the Romanticism wasn’t imminently apparent to everyone else, and that’s okay! but I’m explaining it because it’s a core value for me.)

I wrote this here, and I’d love to write a longer post regarding SPN and folklore and just haven’t had the chance, but: I’ve thought a lot about the meaning of folklore as a concept, stories that are passed down, retold, interpreted differently along the way, always held dear. How humanity so often paid homage and showed reverence for heroic figures through ballads/folk songs, epic poems, fairytales. SPN was all folklore. Be it urban legend or pagan mythos or Biblical, their cosmology was folklore. Dean’s a fairytale hero, in a classical sense, the brave and noble emblem of light who faces the dark. I mean, he’s a little bit noir and a little bit Americana and a little bit Byronic hero and a little bit fantasy archetype and a little bit theological martyr, but he’s a little bit fairytale, too, a little bit of a folk song, whispered about and sung in hushed tones and shimmering out of the dark only to fade into it again. He’s all that, and yet ferociously, beautifully himself.

all the posts talking about how Dean battles self-loathing, but everyone knows he’s exquisite. how Dean is somehow the one with all the friends, the one everyone devotes themselves to, why Bobby tells him “you’re my favorite” and Cas has a “more profound bond” (there are a few exceptions, Eileen, maybe Rowena, are both closer to Sam, but many of their found family members are closer to Dean). do you ever ask yourself why? it’s certainly not because he has narrative priority, per se, which is part of where the cognitive dissonance about the characters comes in (Sam and Dean SHOULD have equal footing, but Sam often gets mytharc focus while Dean gets emotional focus. this is why, for example, we get a long-running storyline of Sam’s experiences in hell, and like, an episode and a half about Dean’s, yet we all remember, “I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing” more powerfully). the answer is, to quote a friend, because Dean makes connections wherever he goes. Dean gets called the repressed and guarded one by certain parts of fandom (baffling), but he is intensely emotionally honest quite often. Dean apologizes the most, expresses his feelings the most (and is usually immediately shut down for doing it), tangibly shows love the most through direct action, actually says “I love/need you” the most. Sam is the FAR more careful one. I keep talking about Dean’s expansive heart and his underlying, but easily discernible vulnerability - his heart is unfailingly open, even despite himself. Sam cares deeply too, but Sam doesn’t let anyone truly know him. he lies to his “normal” girlfriends. he’s more easily manipulative - and I am not saying this as a disparagement, it’s often a useful trait, but it’s a sharp-edged one (Dean’s sharp edges are utilized in very disparate ways from Sam’s). his shrewdness and ambition are a part of him. his identity itself is far more malleable. if Dean is the sun, Sam is the moon. he hides parts of himself away. there’s only one person who’s allowed in to know him wholly, and that’s his brother. they fear this as a weakness:

and then the narrative repeatedly, consistently reveals to them, no, it’s their fundamental strength (Dean, my gorgeous babe, sorry about this awkward screencap):

which, again, is why I wrote what I wrote about the meaning and power of love (“love as the Platonic ideal - ie: the true and essential nature of things that cannot necessarily be perceived by substantive/reflected reality because it is so much more sublime - that love is the most tremendous force imaginable, and is stronger than prophecy, death, and any religion”) as a triumphant force in Swan Song, as an irrevocable extension of Dean, as an epiphany for Sam.

what does this have to do with the finale, you ask a simple question and get a dissertation for an answer, but here it is - this is the reason why blurry wife was blurry, and why that kid feels like a shadow, and why Sam was only surrounded by things that were extensions of Dean. because they didn’t matter. if we have to analyze the straight-up canonical ending here, Dean’s death was painfully centered around Sam, but Sam’s life was then mournfully centered around Dean. I’ve cried and criticized this aspect (in regards to Dean’s death especially) and its diminishment of them so much that I’m not even going to bother here, I’m just going to run off textual facts - this is why blurry wife was not Eileen, because we knew her, and she mattered to the audience. she had an identity. they wanted us to see Sam grieving alone, entrenched in it, and with someone who knew Dean, who knew about hunting, who knew anything at all, he couldn’t have that. so Eileen gets erased, to up the angst of his mourning. I’m not defending this, it’s admittedly twisted, I’m just saying...it’s what the writing did. the remainder of Sam’s life is spent in a form of exile, separated from his true Romantic nature, and from the only other person who can fully understand it. he is removed from the path - he doesn’t end, but his journey does, it’s a symbolic kind of death (wrapped up in something we’re supposed to read as “happy” and “normal,” but it is colored everywhere by bereavement, it doesn’t work that way). Dean’s death being brutal and nihilistic as it was...it was a betrayal of him, and unfair in every sense, but it also was a betrayal of the Romantic ideal, and once the immediate shock wore off and that began to hit me, it made me feel even more solid about how wrong it was. Romanticism can be deeply tragic (when despair becomes an aesthetic), but its internal workings still thrive on beauty and meaning, which we did not get. I will never for a moment defend his death. it was cruel and the wrong decision. I will never not hold profound grief and fury about it in my heart. if you think about it, Sam is forcibly removed from the folklore, but Dean forcibly becomes the folklore. (maybe this is why we’re finding him anew in lyrics, in poems.)

Shelley wrote an elegiac poem called Adonais when Keats died (we’re talking Romantics here, after all, they were not restrained in their affections nor their mourning). it is very long, but bits of it keep rattling around in my head. Dean is so very much the Adonais of the lament. in part, it reads (bolds are mine):

XL He has outsoar'd the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain; Nor, when the spirit's self has ceas'd to burn, With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn. XLI He lives, he wakes—'tis Death is dead, not he; Mourn not for Adonais. Thou young Dawn, Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee The spirit thou lamentest is not gone; Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan! Cease, ye faint flowers and fountains, and thou Air, Which like a mourning veil thy scarf hadst thrown O'er the abandon'd Earth, now leave it bare Even to the joyous stars which smile on its despair! XLII He is made one with Nature: there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own; Which wields the world with never-wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above. XLIII He is a portion of the loveliness Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light. XLIV The splendours of the firmament of time May be eclips'd, but are extinguish'd not; Like stars to their appointed height they climb, And death is a low mist which cannot blot The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair, And love and life contend in it for what Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.

[...]

LIII Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart? Thy hopes are gone before: from all things here They have departed; thou shouldst now depart! A light is pass'd from the revolving year, And man, and woman; and what still is dear Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither. The soft sky smiles, the low wind whispers near: 'Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither, No more let Life divide what Death can join together.

LIV That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.

LV The breath whose might I have invok'd in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.

it is about the constancy of love, the depth of mourning, the light which does ultimately outlast it.

there are endless Siken quotes I could pull here, because of course I could, but one I’ve returned to so many times - We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

my we are all just trying to be holy tag comes from the same piece. so take these lines for him too:

Imagine my legs crossed, my hair combed, the shine of my boots in the slatted light... This is the map of my heart, the landscape after cruelty which is, of course, a garden, which is a tenderness... Goodbye. Goodbye. No more tears. I would like to meet you all in Heaven. But there’s a litany of dreams that happens somewhere in the middle... A page of the book where we transcend the story of our lives... We have been very brave, we have wanted to know the worst, wanted the curtain to be lifted from our eyes... Our Father who art in Heaven. Our Father who art buried in the yard. Someone is digging your grave right now... It’s a fairy tale, the story underneath the story, sliding down the polished halls, lightning here and gone. We make these ridiculous idols so we can pray to what’s behind them, but what happens after we get up the ladder? Do we simply stare at what is horrible and forgive it? Here is the river, and here is the box, and here are the monsters we put in the box to test our strength against... Monsters are always hungry, darling, and they’re only a few steps behind you, finding the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren’t stitched up quite right, the place they could almost slip right through if the skin wasn’t trying to keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side of the theater where the curtain keeps rising... The hunter’s heart, the hunter’s mouth, the trees and the trees and the spaces between the trees, swimming in gold.

Dean may be relegated to heaven, but he is too transcendent to die.

so, blurry wife is not with Sam when he dies. there could be any number of reasons for this - maybe she died first. maybe she died years earlier and that’s why we only see Sam with their son. maybe she’s too frail to be there. maybe they split up. who knows? it doesn’t matter. the photos don’t include her? it doesn’t matter...imagine this poor woman, who was probably never entirely let in. who knows what Sam even actually told her? assume she has other family of her own. sure, the walls are down in heaven, but why would this random, seemingly “normal” woman want to be in eternity with a bunch of people she doesn’t know, has never met, and cannot relate to? furthermore, why would their son? I guess it would be awesome to meet Uncle Dean, but it would also be...weird. so it’s essentially amicable separation in eternity, blurry wife gets custody. we are not meant to consider this (Sam would theoretically be a different person after all those decades, the finale regressed them both, bad writing is bad!), but I cannot imagine a heaven where blurry wife is coming to join them. non-entities in fiction are supposed to pass through our consciousness like water. (is there a misogynistic aspect to his, to not giving her an identity? absolutely! does it get even more laughable when you think about the meaning of, again to reference another conclusion, Swan Song? yes! is this what we’re stuck having to parse? unfortunately!)

Dean’s and Sam’s heaven was always shared, Dabb himself established and co-wrote this premise in Dark Side of the Moon (and it was much less pleasant there). the moment he finds out he’s in heaven, knowing they’re both dead, his immediate conclusion is that Sam is there:

Romanticism revels in the concept of people being knit together in their souls. now, this often is done in the easier to recognize dichotomy of a traditional romance (because of the origin of the genre’s timeframe, although there are a LOT of subtextual elements that go on in Romantic literature and poetry), but it does not HAVE to be that narrow of a definition, it can be something else altogether, and much larger than that. you start getting into the metaphysical aspects of soul mates and it does not have to be romantic/sexualized (frankly, that’s reductive of the concept).

this spiritual connectivity is often an essential aspect of the genre, but not necessarily a “good” one, as it can be destructive as much as it is resilient. SPN baked this into their construct of heaven, except heaven was a frightening, oppressive place because it wasn’t real, it was already lived highlights.

my one existent solace now, and the reason I’ve very slowly managed to accept heaven conceptually (but, to be clear, NOT EVER how they got there) is because it’s no longer Memorex, the Eye is Watching You heaven. and they can be with other people they love, which is fulfilling, which we have to imagine will allow for some healing and growth. still, their heaven was always linked. that one part of the canon established in Dark Side of the Moon remains. Cas, through the radio in the Impala (remember, the Impala, symbolizing home and unity, was always there too), says, “for you, it’s a road. follow it, Dean. you’ll find Sam. follow the road.” that remained true. don’t get me wrong, it’s cold comfort because he’s dead. he didn’t get to live, he didn’t get to follow whatever path he wanted, experience new things, spend more time with Miracle, take that normal job, express himself, be whoever he wanted to be, keep experiencing and sharing that enormous love. I wanted him to fall in love with whomever he wanted, with the world, most of all, with himself.

I was such an exposed nerve after Carry On aired that I was thrashing violently against everything. if I think too closely about heaven as a “peaceful” reward when he didn’t get to live, it still throws me into paroxysms of distress, and that’s why I fantasize about them breaking out. I still loathe the finale as a whole because it’s awful, inexcusable writing. I have discussed, multiple times, the devastating effect and very real grief this has personally had on me how it felt like they murdered a loved one in front of me (I look at my posts from that night and the days immediately following and almost feel bad they exist, they are raw with the agony of it). ultimately, for my own sanity, I had to come to terms with heaven in some way, because I could not live in that distressed nihilism forever. S15 punished and tortured them and ran them through mazes as they clawed for their freedom, and the writers intentionally allied themselves with the villain who apparently chose to ruin the Winchesters' lives for sport, and he was canonically a BAD writer? make it make sense.

I wrote to a friend: it really feels like they were just trying to take everything from us. I hate that I keep thinking about how sad "everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love” (an ULTIMATE Romantic hero trait, if ever there was one) is now, how useless it was, because in the end, he still felt no worth for himself ("you've always been stronger than me." DARLING, WHEN? was it when Sam was possessed by Lucifer and pummeling you to death, and you did nothing but tell him you were there for him? was it when a mind-controlled Cas did the same thing, and you had to tell him you need him while on your knees? was it when you were fighting every day for Cas in purgatory? was it when you made it 30 years in hell without breaking and never forgave yourself when you gave in? was it when you saved the entire world through compassion, by talking to and hearing Amara rather than attacking her? was it when you kept your sense of self with Michael in your body? was it when you bore the Mark of Cain and resisted it for longer than anyone ever anticipated, and again hated yourself when it got to be overwhelming? was it when you had to raise your baby brother from the age of four? at least when Metatron beat him to death and stabbed him through the chest with an angel blade, he got to say, "I'm proud of us," before he died. the fact that Dean had the three most graphic, painful deaths on the show, in three different finales...and those don't even count his many other deaths...he was brutalized consistently and there are disturbing layers to it all). Sam not saying "I love you" back to his brother, and how elements of that scene caused interpretations of it to be crushingly unequal...I lose it whenever I think about it. all their potential progress EXISTS in the text. it's logical. there's foreshadowing, emotional resonance, groundwork, character development. it exists in 15x20 itself! they just chose to throw it away.

why do it this way? why make it this hollow? why include blurry wife at all, why not get them to heaven by some other means? is it idiocy from a writer who did not understand the characters’ hearts, narrative arcs, nor the value of the journey? who likely didn’t see it this through its kaleidoscopic Romanticism? is it maliciousness towards the characters (Dean particularly) and some measure of sadism aimed at the audience? did they think about the horrific and damaging implications regarding the sublimation of his identity, the martyring aspect of it, the depreciation of his personhood, the fetishization of his pain and the agony they put him through, the terrible message regarding trauma/abuse/depression/suicidality? or were they so stupid that they really thought that ending was positive and uplifting?

but I don’t believe you have to worry about Dean’s heaven being fractured or him ever feeling replaced or like second best again. that’s over now.

ALL THAT SAID, to end this somewhat serious post, here’s some levity - you can also go with one of my (many) headcanons that gets us out of this mess, I’ll give you two that I’ve given to others:

1. the dark one: none of Sam’s life with blurry wife even happened, Dean was imagining it while driving. that is why she is blurry - he could’ve imagined Eileen, who he liked very much, but he probably didn’t want to box Sam in like that or pressure him when he wasn’t sure who he’d choose to settle down with, thus...blurry. the son, though - hilarious. Dean is the one who had connections to kids, Sam has NEVER expressed this or even been notably good with kids. of course he’s named Dean, with big letters plastered across his chest, Dean is thinking, “friggin’ Garth named his kids Sam and Castiel? damn it, Sam, I’m counting on you to name a kid in my honor...” that twin situation hurt his feelings a tiny bit more than he’d like to admit.

Dean was the one who thought Sam WANTED that apple pie life, Sam did try to convince him he doesn’t.

Sam, meanwhile, goes out and gets himself killed on that very first solo hunt that he gets the call about. he throws himself into the maw of it and doesn’t even care. you think Sam looks restored to the same age as when they were parted because heaven is neat like that? Dean gets to the end of that road, to the bridge, Sam shows up, and it’s like, “did you have a nice life? how long was I gone? forty years?” “you’ve been dead for three days, Dean.” (don’t worry about Miracle, Sam dropped him off with Donna).

2. the light one: Sam, using the brain we know he has, actually gets help, Dean does not die, but he DOES pass out from pain/blood loss, and everything is a hallucination. the clues that this is a hallucination are abundant, none more than the portrait of John, Mary, and the boys from “Lebanon,” a picture which should not exist after the destruction of the pearl. the reasoning with blurry wife and Dean II is the same. heaven is generic and empty because Dean only has a vague idea of how it might be improved over what it was before. none of it was real, he's going to wake up in the hospital, tell Sam about it, and Sam is going to roll with laughter. "as if I'd let you die by MIMEPIRES. on a rusty nail? really?" “are we thinking mimepire or vampmimes? besides, it was actually rebar...don’t make me laugh, it still hurts.” this becomes a running joke. Sam teases him at many occasions about pathetic death by mimepire. "shut up, Sam." anything weird happens, at least it wasn't a rusty nail. "the only thing you can imagine in heaven is...driving the car? you drive the car every day, Dean." "you've never understood us, Sammy." "for FORTY YEARS?" "it was the blood loss!"

have a gif of him laughing because he’s fine:

conclusion: even if we must examine the ending, sink in the sorrow of it, the truth is this - the story said, at every major turn in the road, their connection is paramount, and the halo of light that radiates from that point illuminates everything else around them. it’s unbreakable, and their ethos as Romantic heroes does not ever die.

there are things the writing damages and vandalizes, but not this:

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky, Dean is burning through that inmost veil of heaven, and his world defining love and its meaning is eternal.

#spn liveblog #this isn't really a liveblog post but i'm putting it there #dean feelings #dean meta #dean winchester #sam winchester #my boys #we keep each other human #supernatural #a rambling thesis if ever there was one!#dean winchester is a Romantic hero #(this is about them both! obviously! but for tagging reasons we are going to say):#Romanticism: when despair becomes an aesthetic #anonymous #letterbox #long post #*#this was my last anon to answer <3 you all have so many thoughts and i appreciate them #q

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jurisffiction · 3 years

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pay attention. castiel is rose tyler in that they’re the shining angelic force that teaches the self-hating eternal warrior man to realise he should let love into his heart and because they are both the reason he finally wants to settle down despite his entire life fighting it AND now the reason he never can, whereas castiel is also the doctor and dean rose because cas holds magnificent otherwordly force and operates in a far off cosmic bureaucratic family that dean/rose could never understand. obviously also cas is rose because they’re the ones who can bring themselves to say i love you out loud (BONUS meta reasons for that one regarding who the audience/network cares more for) but crucially cas takes a long time to learn what’s happening whereas rose truly Knows early but in both it’s strongly a case of their eternally repressed warrior man creating an environment where they think they’re both too at risk to say it. also they’re always on the run/at war.

and so castiel IS brennan because of all the network tv level neurodivergent coding and the literal both “i don’t understand that reference” of it all except of course dean is faithless and booth is faithful. and castiel is teaching dean to accept love for himself after excessive family/childhood trauma which is the same role booth is playing for brennan. (and rose for the doctor, keep up.) but also booth is a literal soldier who brennan is ALSO teaching to love again even if she doesn't intend to. whereas then booth is the one who is doing the long term just happy to Be With You style pining as brennan has to reckon with what it would mean to admit out loud she’s in love. meanwhile of course booth is dean because action hero man’s man pop culture encyclopaedia. castiel yes is also an action angels but it's played similarly to brennan’s action moments because it’s 2005 and she’s a woman. oh booth also is castiel (is the doctor) for the note about the bureaucratic all powerful family meddling in affairs (that they turn against for love! to varying extents) and that's the fbi.

the doctor is obviously bringing rose into his world (of travel and wonder) and dean is bringing cas into his world (of hunting but also of humanity and emotion) and that’s the primary set but specifically rose IS bringing the doctor into HER world of humanity and emotion, too. she essentially domesticates the doctor the same way cas truly just ends up living in their house. similarly (to supernatural, the doctor who balance is far more equal due largely to budgeting) bones is set that booth disrupts and enters brennan’s world but he is, once again, teaching her humanity though of course in quite a different way to the literal species differences of the other shows. of course also the dynamic of being secretly and for the first time desperate to settle down with the same reason you now can’t settle down is thriving strong throughout all of them.

there are countless not-quite-meta episodes where people are essentially fans of a written version of the doctor's life story but crucially brennan is literally her own chuck writing novels about her own life. except that one episode where hodgins is chuck except maybe he's metatron.

jack is tony is parker.

#i cant remember anything i just wrote #long post #??#doctorbonesnatural

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unalivex · 4 years

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13 Reasons Why | Season Four Review ( SPOILERS )

i just finished watching season four, and it’s got me DEEP in my feelings. so, i’m going to review it and give my opinions. first i’m going to do main characters, then the side characters, and then my overview of the whole season. i’m going to keep it as short as i can!

MAIN CHARACTERS

clay | clay has and probably always will be my favorite character. this season finally addresses some of his mental issues and his trauma. i feel like all of the other main characters forget that clay went through everything too and he also has some serious issues, so it was nice to see him talk about it. he was kind of frustrating though. this season there was a severe lack of communication between him and others. like dude, tell your damn therapist you see dead people!! he was also a dick to justin throughout the whole season, and i did NOT dig that. overall, though? i still love him. he had an interesting plot. he had a really good glo up though 10/10 he was hot this season.

justin | HOW DARE THEY KILL HIM OFF. he was fucked with all season. first he and jessica break up, then she starts seeing diego, then clay starts being a dickhead, then his mom dies, then he relapses, and then he fucking dies!! what the fuck!! he didn’t deserve this after all of his character development. he and clay can never be happy.

jessica | every season her and justin do the ‘will they wont they’ thing and i think it was over done and unnecessary. jessica was kinda immature in s4, especially when justin broke up with her. i do love her, but i got frustrated with her at times. she wasn’t the worst though. her friendship with ani was cute, and she is still the baddest bitch on the block. her and bolan’s relationship was one of my favorite things tbh.

ani | surprisingly pleasant. i’m really glad the writers managed to save her character. i still think she’s not really needed, but i didn’t hate her at all this season, and i actually managed to like her. her hair had a major glo up like damn sis. i loved the hairstyle with the bangs!

alex | BABY BOY. i loved him so much this season. alex has never really annoyed me, but this season i especially loved him. after getting messed with every season i appreciated seeing him thrive. i loved seeing more zalex (even if its just a friendship but hey they kissed!!) and he and charlie were SO cute. some of his relationships were a little rushed, but i could still enjoy them.

zach | i used to adore zach up until this season. he just kinda showed up drunk and then never stopped. there was no build up. he had some scenes where i cheered for him, and he does have some badass and fun scenes. he’s the one main character that annoyed me a lot though, which is sad because he used to be one of my favs.

tyler | he deserves the world. i think tony and clay were right to suspect he was up to something, because he was acting suspicious, but i’m glad he wasn’t doing anything bad. i’m so happy he’s getting more comfortable in his own skin. his and winston’s friendship was cute while it lasted, and him and estela were hella cute too.

tony | meh. he didn’t really do much this season tbh. i still love him, but i feel like the last two seasons haven’t been giving him enough screen time. i also was disappointed that his friendship with clay isn’t really shown anymore. he was best in seasons one and two.

SIDE CHARACTERS

winston | i feel like i’m alone when i say that i love winston. i can understand the disappointment though. the trailers made him out to be a big threat and then didn’t really do anything with it. i also feel like the only one who didn’t care about him and alex? they were fine together, but i don’t see the chemistry that others seem to. him saying he loved alex was wack. winston and monty hit different than any other relationship on this show and i’m not gonna apologize for saying that. i cried like a baby during the prom episode. it’s bs that he apparently only knew the version of monty that he wanted to see, when he was the only one who really knew monty the person and not monty the jock or monty the bully. winston was the only one to know monty in an intimate, vulnerable state. winston was done dirty this season and he deserved better.

monty | he gets his own category because he may be dead but he was a prominent character. i hate that i get really emo about monty but i do. he was an awful person, and i’m not gonna make excuses for him because he doesn’t deserve them, but i just get really emo and sad about him and i’m not sure why. maybe because the show redeemed bryce (bleh) but didn’t allow monty the same luxury. i really wish he wasn’t dead. they didn’t need to kill him off at all. the plot wouldn’t really change much if he had been alive. clay could’ve still seen him bc he felt guilty, and winston still could’ve gone to the school.

estela | i love her so much!! she is mourning her brother but understands what he did was gross and disgusting. she didn’t really do much but i still appreciated her. her and tyler were cute.

diego + the football team | diego was kinda shitty and he fucked with clay when he didn’t need to but i don’t think he’s a bad person at all, and i believe he genuinely cared about jessica and wanted her happy. he was kinda used as a plot device for jess and justin so he didn’t really do much after the first few episodes besides be there to make justin jealous. the football team was actually kinda fun this season and i didn’t hate them. kinda asses but not in the way the past ones were.

caleb | caleb and tony are perfect for each other but caleb is also too good for tony tbh. they’re cute though and i’m happy they have each other, but shit tony doesn’t listen to him. caleb doesn’t do much in the show but he’s cool.

the parents | i’m only gonna speak in detail about one parent and that’s mister bill standall. idk i just kind of love him and i think he’s an amazing father to alex. every time he kisses alex on the head my heart goes soft because it’s what alex deserves. the whole standall family is super cool and i like peter’s reaction to alex dating charlie. clay and justin’s parents try really hard and they love both their boys though. jessica’s parents also love her very much and i love her dad. we only see ani’s mom once this season and i love her even if she’s strict. mrs. walker is cool and i wish the best for her.

gary bolan | he and jessica have really funny interactions. you can tell he does actually really like her and values her input but he also thinks she’s overbearing and it’s amazing. he sucks sometimes but you can tell he’s trying.

the dean guy and also that one police guy | i don’t remember their names and i don’t care enough to look it up. the dean guy was kind of a dick sometimes but woah i was not expecting the gay from him. i thought the police guy was awful at first but he grew on me when i realized he wasn’t out to fuck with tony.

scott | he was in one scene and it wasn’t even really him but i love him so i’m gonna mention him. 10/10 stole the show.

charlie | i saved my favorite for last. CHARLIE IS BABY. he literally has done nothing wrong in his entire life. the sweetest boyfriend. not closeted and isn’t afraid to show affection. would literally do anything for alex. his and alex’s relationship was a b i t rushed but i enjoyed it nonetheless. i don’t know how people could prefer alex and winston over charlie and alex literally they’re so cute and charlie is the best.

OVERVIEW

i think this season was pretty good. a bit fucky here and there, but overall a lot better than season three. i do wish some things were different, and i don’t know why there weren’t thirteen episodes because that would’ve helped slow things down a little so some things didn’t feel too rushed, but eh whatever. this season tackled some interesting topics like mental illness, AIDS, sexuality, and police brutality. i was super stressed out watching but in a good way. i do wish some things were done differently. that’s what fanfiction is for i suppose. i’m gonna give this season a 7/10. it was good and i enjoyed it, though i think some decisions were questionable and i think there should’ve been a happy ending for all of the main characters since they’ve been put through literal hell. please interact if you share the same opinions or if you think differently because i would love to discuss further!! i feel like i have a mixture of both popular and unpopular opinions about this season, so i’d love to hear about what anyone else thinks.

#13rw spoilers #13rw season 4 #13rw #13 reasons why #thirteen reasons why #clay jensen #justin foley #jessica davis #zach dempsey #alex standall #tyler down #tony padilla #ani achola #13rw review

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leam1983 · 4 years

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Cyberpunk 2077 Thoughts

Having perused Dark Horse Books’ The World of Cyberpunk 2077 over the past few days, I’ve gotten a better feel for the various basic hooks that structure V’s inception as a protagonist. The short of it is the Polish wizards are on the right path to nailing Pondsmith’s treatment the same way they nailed Sapkowski’s works.

Consider the following as half a brain dump, half a series of prospective spoilers, and also half projection, so either skip this, find some other entry to read, or come back to this come late November.

I know I mentioned three halves, but it’s late and I don’t give a shit.

I’m serious - DO NOT PRESS ON IF YOU’RE THE TYPE TO BLOW A GASKET IF YOU’RE INADVERTANTLY SPOILED.

The latest Night City Wire as of August exposed three incipient “life paths”, or starting branches of V’s path. I’ll tackle my personal narrative approaches to them in the order of my choosing.

Nomads: CP2077 is set in a world where much of what we understand to define a family has been blown up, tossed around by climate change and nuclear fire and then stitched back together using grit, resourcefulness and the last dying embers of human decency. Nomads are less a group of people defined by blood relations and more a cadre of individuals that share something more significant than mere genes. It might be a common history, a set of shared hardships, a yen for similar automotive and engineering-related projects - whatever it is, that something pulls people together in ways Corpo rats and street kids will never experience.

This seems to define even the average Nomad’s degree of education. Surprisingly, Nomads are the most well-read group in Coronado Bay’s greater area, some caravans reportedly including entire RVs packed with books. Nomads generationally elect teachers and record-keepers and seem to care for those cultural remnants of the old world, before Pondsmith’s paranoid alternate sixties kicked off more than a century’s worth of technological progression and rampant dehumanization. To a Night City native, a Nomad’s speech patterns appear precious and uselessly florid, while they might appear almost normal to us - maybe slightly touched by the fact that Grandpa Joe or whatever really wanted you to have your Greek classics down before you were old enough to repair your first CH00H2 carburetor on your own.

That new, mega-clustered version of family matters immensely to the Nomads. You identify to yours the same way Orcs in Shadow of War might refer to their clan, or the same way a Scottish clan might design specific visual cues identifying its members. In normal circumstances, Nomads live, thrive and die in service to the clan - and the opening segment for V’s Nomad origins suggests that something happened to his clan. They’re gone, or so the narration says, without going into further detail. Is V responsible? We don’t currently know. As it stands, however, he is a lone Nomad in a clan of one, and soon finds himself pushed out of the Californian wastes and into Night City’s neon-drenched streets.

Seeing this, I considered the narration as an admission of guilt on V’s part. He feels responsible, and hopes that grinding his way to success will in some way atone for what he’s done. Consequently, my Nomad V would be as gruff as could be, but as moral and upstanding as the setting allows. He considers himself as having been invested with an example to set, and would intend to set his sights on more than just filthy lucre. Honest filthy lucre is what matters to him, if that concept even is possible: he might deal in unsavory types and illicit activities, but he always does so with a certain moral rectitude - as a tough and gruff, lean and stringy type you can occasionally catch in his battered Thornton pick-up truck with his feet up on the dashboard and a dog-eared copy of Plato’s Republic in hand. Jackie honestly wonders how he can put up with that Greek pendejo’s endless words and the lack of scrolling animations, while V keeps his Kiroshi optics’ News ticker locked onto grassroots Leftist RSS feeds that stoke a bit of an ignored Rockerboy ethos in him. Quoting Marx in Night City might feel like trying to teach lab rats in the finer points of string theory, but it at least feels genuine to him, compared to the predigested sociopolitical pap Militech, Arasaka and their ilk are more than happy to spew on the airwaves.

There’s a lot to be pissed off about in Richard Night’s failed utopia, a lot of fat cats to gut and buildings to burn. Still, he leaves the glowering act and the churning rage to Johnny Silverhand’s imprinted ghost. Being more of a down-low, gun-toting choomba than a classic Street Samurai, Vincent “V” Carson thinks first and strikes second.

Vinnie isn’t much for electric guitars and anarchy in the UK, much less in the Free State of Southern California; but he does love the occasional Leonard Cohen ballad or the occasional shot of Johnny Cash’s melancholy. Having picked up something of a Northern Texas drawl while cruising, he might feel like Harry Dresden’s Good Ol’ Boy cousin, magic tricks here pushed aside in favor of a measure of dermal plating and a good ol’ fashioned twelve-gauge and revolver combo. Not being much of a techno-fetishist, he considers his optics and his skull jack as being begrudging concessions to an era that looks down on fully “ganic” types. Having grown up with TV serials and the occasional visor-based Braindance all depicting cyberpsychosis as something vile that utterly dehumanizes its sufferers, he’s naturally wary around anyone who seems a little too giddy with the prospect of taking a few scalpels to perfectly decent muscles and bones.

His Thornton is where most of his Eddies go, and yes, he’s named his truck Suzie. Suzie’s done right by him, and he’ll do right by her - unless someone else with a pretty smile and a working moral compass makes him swoon.

Street Kids: if you weren’t taught on the highways or in corporate arcologies, odds are you became a positive blip in an otherwise grim statistic, one of the myriad fucked-up kids raised by other fucked-up kids with more seniority than you. With no roads and paid-for nannies, you survived off of grifts, grit, violence, deceit, smarts and gumption - and that, in its own screwball way, creates its own blood ties. You’re wise by Heywood’s standards - streetwise, that is - and you speak the back-alleys’ lingua franca of threats, insinuation and casual intimidation like no other.

If only Jackie hadn’t fingered that Rayfield, huh? This beaut could’ve been paydirt! Well, at least for a week or so, judging by the fact that hundreds of car thefts are reported across Night City on a daily basis. At least, Dean - who also goes as “V” - got to make a new friend while out in the pokey, and managed to shake a few proverbial trees... They’ve got a short-lease in with Trauma Team’s frequency and could maybe hook themselves up with a sweet finder’s fee for anyone who’s on the verge of death at the hands of the city’s Scavengers...

Little does V know, that’s selling Trauma Team as well as their clients painfully short. Shows of gratitude don’t mean anything if you’re not packing the right social status. He barely remembers his birth parents as it is, and grew up the fifth grubby prospect of one of the Valentinos’ “school clubs” (hence the nickname) - where the points of study refer to the proper observances to be held in Jesus Malaverde’s presence, intensive Chicano and Spanish immersion, as well as the handling of common types of weaponry.

Vincent and Dean would be likely to shoot one another, if placed in the same room. One clings onto nearly-lost value systems, while the other commodifies what can be discarded like so much flesh - only inasmuch as his efforts to pacify his unofficial five or six abuelas force him to forego extensive modifications. His knives and wrist-mounted data port are his main tools of the trade, although Dean keeps his hacking creds along the bare minimum. Why bother, when melting an ATM’s ICE wall and whacking the cops with a baseball bat is all you need? There’s a type of gun for nearly anything else, if someone knows where to look...

Dean has no last name, and is consequently registered as “Dean Smith” in the city’s Census records. That doesn’t suggest, however, that he wouldn’t want to make one for himself. As he’s less focused on the city’s legends than on its kingmakers and pawn-movers, Dexter DeShawn strikes him as someone to emulate, watch and learn from - all with a decent degree of caution.

Being on top matters a little less to him than eventually pulling Heywood’s stings. With a little fear and a lot of persistence, Dean “V.” Smith knows that one day, he won’t go hungry on a weeknight. To that end, he’s certainly a hearty eater, here paired with extensive free-weight training regimens and the use of anabolic stimulants. Oh, sure, he’ll speak of family and blood like the best soldier festooned in Santa Muerte visual codices, but his friend Jackie’s got a mind like a slow and steady steel trap.

Either Dean blows his new fellow Street Samurai out of the pond, or he does. Unlike Jackie, however, Dean isn’t realistic about it. Friendships are a rare gift in Heywood, if not the rest of Night City, and Dean’s convinced that Jackie could conceivably look past his final betrayal.

Corpo: nowadays, we’re mostly familiar with the idea of one-percenters creating a bubble of affluence for themselves. Boarding schools, private villas, prebooked vacations across the globe’s priciest spots, access to the hottest trends on the minute of their inception - what this tends to forego is the level of social disconnect that’s required in order to stay relevant. We’re only just waking up to the consequences of letting an aging, crusty first-generation Yuppie be crowned the ruler of the free world, and even someone who’s behind on their Bret Easton Ellis could tell you that Donald J. Trump is a sociopath and a narcissist.

Take that mindset, and cultivate it into an ethos that’s taught to children from a very early age - children who live, eat, shit and breathe in accordance with their parent corporation’s tenets. The more placid, mid-tier lifers in the genre are called sararimen, in reference to William Gibson’s use of the term to designate low-level company workers in Chiba City. A bit like Shenzhen’s factory workers and execs, everything in a corpo’s life is in service to the corporation.

In Night City, as of 2077, two major players have installed this culture of total obedience in their roster. Their names are Militech and Arasaka. One is a juggernaut in the field of military-grade personal defence, the other has a wider grasp and reach, but is more fragile. Arasaka owes that fragility to the last fifty years having involved its re-establishment and reconstruction. Fifty years ago, Night City’s Corpo Plaza was blasted open by a thermonuclear discharge that sent the Japanese giant packing. The charges had been set by three Edgerunners: Rogue, Morgan Blackhand and Johnny Silverhand - accessorily a well-respected Rockerboy and front-line member of the band SAMURAI. Only Rogue survived that fateful night, or so the street lingo goes, having gone on to start a legitimate consultation business as well as a fruitful career in the hospitality business. Her bar, the Afterlife, is Night City’s hotspot for every techie, script kiddie and accomplished cyber-spelunker.

Our gal Vivian knows this. She knows this, because Vivian “V.” Banks lives two lives.

In one of them, she’s a lean and hungry Junior Executive in Arasaka’s Counter-Intel division. In that line of work, you either fuck someone’s prospects or protect your own, or ensure that no up-and-comer just out of the company’s Law School program manages to push you off the board. She knows full well that in centuries past, corpo-speak was made up of mild euphemisms that at best referred to destroying a rival’s prospects or lifelihood. Taking a life was something that required careful deliberation, especially when tossing a fat severance bonus into an aging CFO’s three-piece pockets and letting your erstwhile rival snort cocaine off of the rolling hips of Tahitian dancers was so much cheaper...

Nowadays, zeroing someone is commonplace.

You’re born for Arasaka, and chances are you’ll die for Arasaka just the same. Viv’s killed, lied, cheated and even stole her way to her position, remorse being this vaguely churning sense of coldness in her gut that keeps one-night stands coming in and out of her bedroom. She only remembers her parents as being credit-chip enablers and personal enhancement drug addicts, cutting ties with them so completely on the day of her official hiring that it felt more like a tacit understanding.

On most days, sex and booze keep the cold at bay. On most days, Vivian Banks is a class-act of a sociopath. The stronger she gets, however, and the more paranoid her targets become - which reinforces her own paranoia. Before long, playing the part of one of Arasaka’s several poisonous flowers won’t work anymore.

Unfortunately, she trusts no-one. No Fixer could put her in contact with any hacker she’d trust, no rando fresh off the street with a retro-tinted National Arms plinker would satisfy her. To climb up the ranks and maybe share tea with Old Man Saburo himself, she needs a spotless performance record. She needs skills.

More importantly, she needs a reputation. That means leaving Arasaka Tower and mingling with the experts in their own field - and it means filling out her back book of successful hits. The drinks at the Afterlife are decent enough, but what she’s after is an official in.

If she can get to Rogue, or maybe even hook up with a ripperdoc not bought and paid for by the company, she might be able to score both new skills and increased performance...

If it were as simple as slitting Janet’s throat in HR and diving her way to an orgiastic performance review quite innocently left on the department’s server, she would’ve done that already. Viv is my obvious Pure Stealth build candidate, my main-line hacker and would-be engineer with a thing for black power skirts and designer offensive augments.

With that said, we’re months ahead of schedule, all the good shit’s already come out, so we’re stuck playing the waiting game...

What are your own character or build ideas for Cyberpunk 2077?

#cyberpunk 2077 #spoilers #build ideas #characters #roleplaying

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