i’m frothing at the mouth about this episode. i don’t even know where to start. finding out CHIM is the one who set up karen and hen? iconic. delicious. unmatched. (also gives extra hilarious context to the drunk chim and karen scene in 3x17). bobby’s “i love you now let us do our job”?? i died. hen’s little “i don’t know if i’m ready for serious”? hilarious. adorable. i’m sitting here rubbing my hands together and laughing at her (affectionately) knowing full well she MARRIES THIS WOMAN.
chim and hen eating lunch at the beach atop the ladder truck? karen and hen staring at baby denny in the car seat and trying to figure out what to do with an infant? “as long as we’re here, on this earth, as long we have tomorrow, it’s not too late”?! “this was your dream”/“now i have a new one, here, on earth, with denny”!!!! to quote the formidable, beloved, iconic dr. christina yang: SOMEBODY SEDATE ME.
(honorable mention to buck’s “you can live without a spleen, right?” i love you, you big himbo!!)
i'm also IN TEARS about hen's medical school arc. no way can i put my feelings into the right words, but there’s something so fucking tender and empowering about realizing that the thing you thought you wanted, the thing you fought so hard to make happen, the thing, the thing, the thing—is maybe, in practice, not actually what you want? that dreams change, and that's okay? that you ARE ALLOWED TO STOP DOING SOMETHING? if it ends up not being what you expected? idk. just. henrietta and karen wilson, i love you both so fucking much.
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sighing and putting my head in my hands and crying and throwing up as i think about stanley uris and how he was the most terrified loser.
how he was deathly scared of being dirty, of not knowing where he was, of not being able to predict the world around him. how he was more scared of his world order being offended than anything else. how knowing that pennywise is real sent him down this spiral of 'what else can be real' and it broke him. but he STILL was the one who cut everyone's hand and made the oath. how bill constantly reminds him of his bird book and how it saved him. how he is more mentally fragile than eddie. how he's one of the only Losers who ever says "i can't do this", but he still gets to his feet and makes jokes right after he cries. stan uris, who, after Mike is like, "i just saw a killer bird!" goes, "what kind of bird?"
thinking about how we really don't know how his death went down so we don't know what he was thinking in those last moments. how he threw away his whole picturesque life because of a promise he made, and because he couldn't honor it. how he's such a private person, a quiet one, but he's so so so sharp and graceful. i wish they showed more of his fear in the movies, how much it fucked him up in the end.
stanley uris i think about you a lot.
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when life gives you emotions, write your blorbos in those situations to cope with said emotions. Perfect plan!
Teru (terumob) drabble (sorta no idea the length of this), rambles, whatever you want to call them. Wrote this in 10 mins with a cup of coffee, probably won't become anything else, so throwing it here.
putting some in front of the read me some below it.
Teru sips his coffee. It's too bitter, but perfect for today as rain belts against the windows of the kitchen, loud, but also comforting in their sound. The flavor of burnt beans sits heavy on his tongue long after he removes the cup from his lips.
Shigeo had been gone for over a week. At first, Teru loved the fact that he could spread out on their bed. Stretching his limbs long, like he used to do when he lived alone. Taking up all the space he needed to sleep soundly.
The novelty faded after two nights. The spot on Shigeo's side grew bigger each passing day, and Teru found himself curling up on his side, pressed to his side of the bed, wrapping himself in all the sheets and comforters they had. The space next to him was vast, gaping, and loud.
Teru slept hot too.
Shigeo's natural aura was cool, like fresh sheets on an autumn day. He never slept warm since they moved in together.
Now he wakes up in a sweat, disheveled and sticky. Armpits uncomfortable and warm, the space between the back of his knees slick. It felt gross.
It was also 2am.
Teru had to go back to sleep. And eventually, he did. But the sleep didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel satisfying.
Last night he stayed up as late as he could, distracting himself with internet videos. He placed his phone on his night stand, bringing all the blankets on the bed up around his shoulders to cozy into the mattress. He was in a good mental place, the distraction had helped. He was fine.
Tears explode from behind his eyes, aggressive, and unwanted. The space beside him grows.
It’s too quiet.
The space is too big.
It’s just an apartment.
But the space is too big.
Shiego would be back, he was going to be home soon. Just a few more days. But the space yawned wider next to him, expanding across the rest of the room. The pillows had started to loose his scent. Same with the sheets. He needed to wash them, as he sweated through the cold nights.
He sips his coffee again. it's bitter on his tongue, but welcomed. His stomach flips in reaction to the acid.
Teru never realized how much love could make you hurt so bad. Shigeo would be home in a few days, they would kiss and snuggle as they once did. He knew this, he knew this in his bones.
But this period, this time, this in-between the day and night and floating between dead horizons, sunk claws into Teru's chest, stronger than he ever expected. He saw other people, he went to work—he wasn't alone.
But he was. He was lonely for just one single person. He knew these feelings existed, he knew his feelings for Shigeo were strong. But when Shigeo left, they exploded like vines from his heart twisting around his throat and his eyes and his fingertips. He didn't realize how much this love rooted deep into his soul. How painful it was. How amazing it was.
Even though the knowledge that Shigeo would be home soon fills his chest with sunlight.
The coffee still tastes bitter.
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I have so many thoughts about the centennial meetings like I think the reason why Hob waited 33 years is yes because Dream is his Friend and he wanted to see him again but I think Dream is more than that. He is Hob's constant. The only thing that he always knew (or at least thought) he could count on. And of course he loves life and he loves change but I think he also needs that constant that is Dream to know that there will at least always be Dream even when everything else changes and fades and dies. To know that he won't one day end up a million years old and alone. I think thats what gives him the stable foundation to then go and live and live and live. He needed Dream to come back, he needed to know that he was still there and he never lost hope... Yeah I'm fine
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the subtle ache in your heart that comes with knowing that you’re just a person in the eyes of your friends. That you could die tomorrow and they’d only care for a week. That most of them wouldn’t notice until they’d need you and even then they’d just find someone else to use.
The burning pressure behind your eyelids that comes with knowing that you’ve devoted your life to love and yet out of everyone you know, you struggle the most. That the people who couldn’t care less about it have people who love them. That no matter how much you’ve tried you’ve always burned.
the tension in your joints that comes with the want, the need to hold and be held. To feel safe when you’re around people. To have someone hug you without holding a knife to your back.
The simple torture in your mind that comes with knowing that the common denominator is you. That you’re apathetic about the people who care and pathetic about the people who don’t. That you’re too caught up in the memory of friends who crowded around the base of a tree because you’d climbed it and you were crying and they refused to leave until you did. That you’re too caught up in the nostalgia of good morning and good night. That you’re too caught up in the game of life to realize that it’s not a game to win but rather an experiment to enjoy.
that no matter what you do, you’re too damaged to be loved as you are.
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YOU'RE SOOOOO RIGHT ABOUT EZRA YOU'RE SO RIGHT IT'S LIKE YOU LOOKED INTO MY HEAD AND WROTE EVERYTHING DOWN
he's so in tune with the force I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS
NO YOU'RE RIGHT HE IS
And it's like. Being in tune with the force is one thing, right? Lots of Jedi are, lots of force users in general are, even!
But like. Okay so Hera mentioned in the pilot that Ezra opening the Holocron being a level of test, right? And it sounded like she and Kanan had discussed before something about him opening the Holocron meaning Kanan would train him.
But that's such a horrible test! In clone wars they specified that you could only open a Jedi Holocron as a Jedi. You had to be so dialed in specifically on the light side of the force.
So walk with me here. Ezra Bridger. He not only has a strong connection to the force. He not only instinctively calls on it without knowing a thing about it. He effortlessly tunes into the light side of the force, like it's as natural as breathing.
"but Void" I hear from the crowd "Ezra also tunes into the dark side of the force"
Indeed. Yes. Correct.
No but just stick with my crazed rambling for a sec okay? Because the dark side is supposed to be the easy path, the one that's so simple to fall into, it calls to force users, I mean, we see that the dark side is exactly that time and again.
I bring this up because. It's not for Ezra. The first time he grasps for the dark side he's in a panic, and it hurts him. It does get them away from the grand inquisitor but it almost doesn't. And the next time? It's after encouragement from Maul, and even then he's having to actively pursue it. He has to try to use the dark side.
And, because I think of this oh so much, when Maul needs him to open the Jedi Holocron--after he's been using the dark side and frequently, mind you--Ezra still can.
And like I have so many more incoherent thoughts about him and his force connection there's just so much he has taken up my entire brain<3
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