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helloooo my dearest darling listeners, i am back on my soapbox to regale you all with the marvelous things i witnessed/experienced on my Whimsical As Fuck™️ three hour drive today. not necessarily in order <3
some cute does with bigass floppy ears / very sweet waitress who called me "hon" and put the most tasty looking crepes on my table / a pair of hawks divebombing a golden eagle / a kite (the bird) / a flock of magpies / some GORGEOUS scenery / a rainbow / lovely rain sprinklings / MORE gorgeous scenery, i mean what the fuck / fields of purple/orange/red tipped bushes / a meadow of buttercup-yellow very tall grass, in which many picturesque trees stood / lots of fluffy, adorable, tasty cows / a large herd of likely-feral horses with a wonderful variety of patterns & colors / the fluffiest husky ever / the juxtaposition of cold wind through an open window + warm sunlight / the most stunning snow-coated mountain of whites and blues in the sun, wreathed in clouds / no seriously some really fucking Gorgeous scenery, i was near tears with some of it
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priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly?
constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you?
priest: you did what...?
constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?
constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know!
and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!!
...
constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way.
— hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"
babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)
anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.
80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.
and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?
hm. i just don't know about all that.
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Lmao sorry not sorry that I don't open the door when the police knocks at 1 AM, I'm too busy being naked in bed after taking Nytol and knowing my rights
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When somebody only uses my chosen name while putting me down, it kind of makes me wish I didn't have a name at all.
And when somebody only uses my pronouns when they try to coerce me into something, then switch back to they/them when talking about me to anybody else, it kind of makes me uncomfortable af.
I sincerely do not enjoy being labeled or referred to. Being referred to is such a negative experience for me irl.
Yet not giving people a set of name/pronouns when they ask automatically seems to make them think you're secretly a serial killer trying to cover up something?????? Or like you're untrustworthy and must be hiding because you're a Bad Person instead of just not wanting to label yourself.
Can I just please not be forced to label myself for everybody else's comfort?
I feel like that information is so personally intimate anyways like unless you know me and we're close, why do you even care? I don't think it's necessary for the first stages of getting to know somebody even though in this culture we've normalized it to be that way.
Plus if I don't give you a name then I have the opportunity to earn one. Give me a name that you think I deserve and let it be what you honor me by instead! How about that? It's probably the only way I'll be comfortably perceived since some people will change my labels as they see fit regardless. Just call me what you like, I feel like my name/pronouns have been corrupted as is
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O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.
— W. H. Auden, 'As I Walked Out One Evening', in Another Time (1940)
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I’m graduating this week and I definitely didn’t have a breakdown over what to wear (under my black grad gown so NO ONE WILL EVEN SEE IT) but I got some pink cargo pants so all is well.
I never actually thought I would graduate from university so this just feels wild and overwhelming to me
It’s especially funny that I’m getting a degree in fine arts because I can’t draw for shit! What arts?
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