an-anonymous--flower-blog

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

当我看见加粗的“关键是，孙杨和汪顺从未否认过潘展乐是他们的儿子”的时候我真的笑成傻逼了哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈哈开抖！！！

Don't know if you guys have already heard of it or not, but people in China have begun to speak of a certain "happy family of three":

Yeah, "Lele's (that means Pan Zhanle's) family", consisting of Lele's Dad, a.k.a Sun Yang, and Lele's Mom, a.k.a Wang Shun.

"How did it come to this?" well,

1. OGG (= Olympic Games Gold) Sun Yang, Wang Shun and Pan Zhanle are the only three olympic gold medalists 🥇 on the Chinese men's swimming team (for now). So as far as their abilities are concerned (and because of the OGG exclusivity), they "form a unit/family".

2. Pan Zhanle's Idol

I mean, one cannot blame him, those stats are impressive:

(Though he looks up to Wang Shun as well.)

3. The "Zhejiang ABC"

Now, what do those Chinese vehicle registration plates have to do with these three men?

The answer is easy: Sun Yang comes from Hangzhou (A), Wang Shun from Ningbo (B), and Pan Zhanle from Wenzhou (C).

(People are predicting, that the next olympic gold medallist most probably is going to be somebody hailing from Shaoxing (D).)

4. Similar "record-breaking experiences"

Pan Zhanle and Sun Yang both have similar "record-breaking experience". Both of them first set new records in the world championships before doing so for the second time in the Olympics.

(5. the most important point [according to Chinese netizens]

Sun Yang and Wang Shun never denied the "accusation" that Pan Zhanle is their child.

You see the similarities. DO YOU SEE THEM?)😏😝

Whatever the case is, Sun Yang took it with good humor (or more like he tried not to break out in laughter) when he was being confronted with this on a live stream.

And the netizens have already mapped out the whole family by now:

...or more like the "four great families".

And yes, Mr. Balenciaga is the older brother.

....

Now,

PS: there is now a translated version of the somewhat confusing relationship chart.

Sources:

https://weibo.com/7797545096/OqqXOg9Vz

https://weibo.com/7405411647/OqSvPuveH

https://weibo.com/5516423116/OqRsMqVlg

https://super.sina.cn/shequn/post/detail_961365383284023297.html

(FYI, they are entirely in Chinese.)

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

LMFAO THIS HAS AN ENGLISH VERSION YO WHAT 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

the four great families..... and acquaintances

I shall take any request that was put forward and update the post with each new addition.

Perhaps we will end up with a global, international, "family tree"/relationship chart, perhaps this post will go under, no one knows.

But here it is:

I should perhaps still mention that this relationship charts does not reflect reality and is more or less the result of an accumulation of brain rot and/or a very active and imaginative fantasy.

This is all meant in good humor, there is no intention to harm anyone with it.

The Original Translation and Relationship Chart can be found here.

And if you want to know, how this all came to be, perhaps visit the post that I published before.

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

Rue Royale | Rose & Viktor | Vamptember Day 24 (Free Day) | Claudia Day 7

Rose wants to see Rue Royale to connect with her lost sister, Claudia. Viktor is there as moral support. Tagging this for Claudia Appreciation Week as well, though it does not have Claudia in it, it is about her. @claudiadelionlac

Like mortals, summer became a quieter time at the chateau, though their reason differed from the mortals. While mortals cavorted in the extra heat and sunshine, vampires were confined to shorter waking hours. Only the ancients or those with extraordinarily powerful blood could overcome the rising sun, though even they were constrained to a time limit. Rose was able to stave off the effects of the sun for a few extra minutes, giving her the chance to look over Viktor as he slept, smooth his hair, kiss his temple without him reacting, she still succumbed without fail. In the evenings it was Viktor who rose first, though Rose never had confirmation whether he was as affectionate as she was before drifting off.

Since the summers at the castle were so quiet, they always took advantage of the time to travel themselves. Of course they promised to be careful, to be smart, to not arouse any suspicion. She would have thought that after almost a decade of them exploring the world that Lestat would have lightened up a little, but he was always so serious the night before Viktor and she were due to leave. This trip would take them across the Atlantic, far too long for them to fly on their own. While they were both skilled flyers, any ocean was a step too far. This trip Lestat himself offered to take them both, an offer so sweet that Rose couldn’t help but kiss his cheek. After that meeting she was sure that the only reason he suggested himself was because they were going to New Orleans.

Neither of them had been in the city, and with it holding so much history for their kind, their family, they both knew it was long overdue.  Louis had said nothing when she told him of their plans, at least not at first. But Louis was often silent during many of Rose’s ramblings, simply taking in what she had to say. She was flighty by nature, so perhaps he didn’t take her initial statement as seriously as she had been. It wasn’t until she and Viktor were confirming places to visit, venues to pretend to eat at, that Louis had rested his hand on her shoulder, quietly saying that they should try to have a good time, that the city was prime for youth and vitality, and that they ought to explore the city as it is now. The unspoken part of his words was not to go seeking the past.

But that was the whole point of the trip for Rose. Viktor was less convinced that they would find anything worthwhile at Rue Royale, but Rose was sure she would see a connection or feel something that explained so much of their lives. While he didn’t fully understand her need to see the house for herself, he was supportive of her idea, insisting that he join her when she visited the home. Rose didn’t overly like the idea of him feeling the need to look after her, but she was grateful that he wanted to support her. Viktor was often that way, with less ideas of where they should travel but with all of the encouragement in the world for her usual half-baked ideas.

They packed light, only what they could carry, and not very heavy items so as not to encumber Lestat. He would never tell them if what they brought was too heavy, but to save his muscles it felt better to be considerate. The trip to America meant that Lestat could visit Trinity, and Louis had already made plans to join them in New York after a few days. Let Lestat and Armand work out their pent up desires on their own. 

The hotel was in the French Quarter, but not one of the most popular. Smaller, boutique hotels often acquiesced to their strange requests better than hotels that had a larger clientele base. Especially with a few extra bills slipped in during check in. Lestat left them soon after, kissing both of their heads, telling them to be good and if they needed a tour guide he would be back in the city sooner than one could say laissez le bon temps rouler.

Viktor’s hand pressed on her shoulder, eager to begin their exploration. But it was Rose who tempered his excitement. After all, she couldn’t sense Lestat and if he was lingering in the city then only he would be able to sense where Lestat was. Rose wasn’t convinced that Lestat had left New Orleans, sure that he was hanging around, at least for a bit, to ensure that they were getting on properly.

So they became drunk college students for the night. Screw the fact that Rose was turned at 20 and Viktor at 19, they were able to get into every bar they wanted and order drinks for those they thought smelled divine. They got a little blood drunk and blended in with the mortals cavorting in the streets. It felt like the ideal cover to act so uninhibited. They were both careful with how they took blood, not a drop spilt, and if Lestat had still been spying on them all he would have seen is them acting their age. Nevermind that Rose turned 30 this year, and Viktor 29. They were being normal. Not preoccupied with events from centuries before. 

They waited a few days before they went in search of the past. Their nights had been filled with sightseeing and little adventures. They dined at the best restaurants, Rose sometimes biting a bit of the food only to be disappointed each time. If this were merely a simple vacation, they had done their best to have a wonderful time, both beginning to understand why this city entranced anyone who came close to it. There was an air to New Orleans wholly different from the rest of the South. Though she’d grown up near Miami, as far south as south goes, she and her aunts had gone on quite a few road trips to states their car could reach comfortably. She wondered if Lestat had instructed them to never enter Louisiana, but that hardly mattered now. The city and the outskirts beckoned, and they were both enjoying it immensely. From flowers that seemed to never stop blooming to even a pre-season football game that had begun just at dusk. 

But Rue Royale waited impatiently. Rose kept her hand tight in Viktor’s as they walked the street up to the home, certainly squeezing his palm though aware she could not hurt him.

“Do you think it’s just as they left it?”

“No, Rose. Don’t you remember? Lestat wrote of this place recently. How the furnishings were modern and it was maintained. They could turn it into a museum, most likely, but neither of them ever would.”

“That would be too much for them to bear. Our fathers. Well, some of our fathers.”

Rose never begrudged Viktor holding Seth and Fareed as his primary parents, and Lestat and Louis as his secondary pair. She understood that he grew up among scientists and labs and beakers and she grew up with luxury and excess and privilege. Their second daughter, however. Not that Louis had much of a say in the matter. But he loved her now just as Lestat did, just as they both did Viktor, and if their words were not enough, it was clear from the way they looked at both of their children, especially when they thought Viktor or Rose weren’t looking at them. 

The gate was secure and neither one of them wished to break it. It was lovely, with clear craftsmanship put into every detail, each swirl expertly wrought. They opted to fly over instead, landing gently in the back garden, a fountain gurgling nearby. 

“We did not think this through. We have no key. We cannot break in like a pair of hooligans!”

“Charming, did you think I didn’t come prepared?”

From her boot, Rose pulls out a key, waving it in front of Viktor’s face.

“I found the spare at the castle and made a duplicate. Put the original back before they ever knew it was missing.”

She earns a kiss from Viktor for being the one to actually think ahead for once. Using the key at the back door, there was half a second where neither of them were sure that it would work, but the door opened upon a back parlor. Rose tentatively stepped in first, an odd sensation passing over and through her. Not a chill, not like the way others talk of ghosts, but a sense that she was stepping into a place where she didn’t belong. 

Viktor thankfully locked the door behind them, though it was unnecessary, it did help to ease her mind. The parlor itself seemed typical. The furnishings matched the time period based on her study of the years that this house had been occupied by three vampires. There were a few modern touches, but to her untrained eye they were easy to miss. Viktor didn’t remark on the decor either, instead making his way further into the home, to the stairs, flicking a light on, though their vampire eyes had been able to see properly in the dark. Some of the bulbs still emitted an incandescent light, and Rose reached up out of curiosity to feel the burgeoning warmth. 

“We should tell them to get those energy efficient bulbs. These can’t be good on their electric bill.”

“Or the environment. If we are meant to live forever then we must live sustainably.” Though Viktor’s words were earnest, even he knew that a vampire’s life inherently meant living unsustainably. There was a meeting once with the council with a group of younger vampires who had all grown up with climate change as part of their human education. The elders were not phased by their calls for the coming end of the world, as they could survive without humans if need be, and live only off of the blood of animals, or the prisoners far beneath the council chamber. 

As Viktor began to head up the stairs, Rose stayed behind. She was trying to picture what this room would have been like for her fathers and their daughter. Did they sit together reading, writing, playing small games? Were they happy? Could they have been? Even with both Louis’s and Lestat’s account of those years she could never imagine an average night for them. Their lives now were so much more complicated, with the court and playing host for guest vampires from all over the world. They all made time for leisure, but the nagging feeling of needing to get something done always lingered. 

She sat in one of the chairs, running her fingers across a table’s edge. Dust, but minimal. Vampire dwellings were never quite as dusty as human ones. Did her sister, the one she was deprived of ever meeting, sit in this chair? Did she see the way the moonlight filtered through the curtains in the same way Rose was watching it now? The brightest light in the night’s sky. They would never see the sun again. The sun had been taken from them, though Viktor and Rose had been given a choice. The one…

I’ve found her room.

Viktor spoke into her mind, rousing her from her thoughts. She was incapable of sending back a reply, but she rose from the chair, sensing out her mate through the house, taking note of the decor, the deliberate choices that must have come from a woman’s touch. 

The room instantly made her think of her own bedroom in the house she’d lived in the longest. With Aunt Marge and Aunt Julie and so much pink it felt like an explosion of everything feminine. Here, the pinks were muted, in tones that were achievable before modern methods of color fabrication. The bed was made, a doll sitting in the middle of the pillows, its blonde curls perfectly styled to frame the angelic face. The room smelled of nothing, disappointing Rose. She had hoped to find a perfume that had been left behind, or perhaps a scent that lingered on the sheets. But there was nothing, nothing to truly help her envision what life was like here. 

Sitting at the edge of the bed, she reaches down to caress the doll. How long had it been sitting here? Who had placed it? Was it as old as her fathers, or was it a new purchase? One for a daughter that was lost but never forgotten. 

The pain was unfathomable, as if all of the anger and hatred and suffering that existed here was coursing through Rose currently. To be underestimated by all, with little recourse to change how her sister had been perceived. If… but what could Rose have done? Lestat had wanted a sibling for the home in Antoine and that plan disintegrated. Rose wouldn’t have existed in that time to begin with. And if she had, she was sure that her existence would be looked down upon with the same harsh cruelty. 

She hadn’t spoken since they were downstairs, and Viktor was equally quiet, letting her absorb this moment. Rose looks back to him, taking his hand, kissing his knuckles. “Thank you for coming with me. Can you give me a few minutes? I’ll be down soon, I just want some time alone.”

He nods with such ease that perhaps he had been thinking of suggesting he leave her for a bit. Ever the gentleman, Viktor kisses her hair before vanishing, the room suddenly colder in his absence. 

Rose picks up the doll properly, setting it in her lap, combing through the curls with her fingers, though not to loosen them. This would be the closest she would ever get to Claudia. Until she herself died, of course. 

“I’m sorry. You don’t know me but… I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to help you. I would… you could have my body if it was possible, but I… you deserved a chance to live. To live properly. I’d always wanted siblings. The curse of the only child. You… we could have been sisters. Claudia… I don’t know if you still hate our fathers. But I will try to love them for both of us. They deserve that, at the very least.”

With a kiss to the doll’s forehead, Rose arranges it back upon the bed as it had been, smoothing the sheets so no one would be the wiser that anyone had been here. Viktor was on the road already, smelling flowers that wove their way through the bars of the gate by the sidewalk. The moment he sensed Rose he opened his arms for her, and she ran to him, embracing him tightly. Though she did not cry, it felt as though she were releasing all of the emotions of the house, the home, the past that neither of them had had a chance to experience. Hand in hand they began to walk the streets of New Orleans, hunting for prey as had been tradition in this city for hundreds of years. 

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

Jack figuring out that Sam and Dean are soulmates and being super blunt about it, like they are all eating dinner one random monday and Jack turns to Sam and Dean and asks them "why are your souls all mixed together? All intertwined? I've never seen other people like that before." To which Sam and Dean are silent and Cas is like " *sigh* well jack, they are soulmates. Their souls are perfectly matched to be together. I too have barely seen any other true soulmates. It is rare yet so magnificent." And Sam and Dean are so embarrassed and awkwardly sitting there and Jack is just like "cool!" and goes back to eating his dinner

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

Happy birthday 哥，希望你在天堂一切都好，第二次过你的生日（technically first time）

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

Dean：what the……？

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

Happy WW! Question for this lovely Americana week: If you HAD to take the boys outside of America either on a quick job or to live for awhile, where would you make them go and why? I hate that we had that quick phone call with Bobby where Sam and Dean went abroad (Scotland, I think?) and we saw NONE of it! As much as I love my red-blooded American boys, I think we've been deprived of a great plot point!

hello!! what a great question thank you!!

the short answer: I'm Canadian and would love to see some Canada action, but the only canada-related plots in TV are hamfisted and cringe, so I can't imagine what spn would actually do with that that would be good

the long answer is a snippet from a fic I'll never publish that I KNOW I've posted on tumblr before but I can't figure out where, so I'm posting it again:

"You hung over?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"Nah. Took some Advil."

"Good, good." Dean let a smile spread slowly over his face. "You, uh, really had a few."

"No more than you."

"You went on your little rant again."

Sam went still and looked over. Dean's smile was cranked up to a thousand watts.

"Which rant?" Sam asked carefully.

“You know which rant. Every time I get more than four drinks in you, you find a way to bring up moving to another country and telling people that we have the same last name because we’re married.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean saw his back get tight. He was embarrassed.

“Excuse me for finding creative solutions to the ongoing problem of dating my brother.”

"Have you considered not dating your brother?"

"Shut up, Dean."

Dean put his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands and made faces at him.

"This time it was Portugal. You said we could live in a seaside shack in Portugal. You were worried they weren't progressive enough, though. Then I said, if we want progressive, we're stuck with either California or Canada or maybe Oregon on a good day, and you said that wasn't far enough away, except maybe Canada."

"Would you please—"

"You know a surprising amount of Canadian lore, turns out. Have you been doing research? House hunting? I'm not moving to Canada, we'd never get guns again."

"Canada's too close," Sam grumbled. "Go away."

"Canada's big. And rural. Bet we can find a place backwards enough for our, uh, alternative lifestyle. But—"

"Alright, that's—"

"—I'd be willing to bet that any fucked-up commune that's down with the incest part would be extremely not down with the gay part—"

"Dean."

"—So maybe we'd just better keep being weird, violent hermits in Kansas for now."

"Are you done?" Sam asked, sounding physically pained. 

"Are those pancakes done?"

"If it'll shut you up, they are."

"Deal."

Sam took the plate of warmed pancakes out of the oven and all but threw it down in front of Dean, leaving him to get his own utensils and syrup.

Sam had been very excited about Portugal. Dean thought it was grossly sweet, but he wasn't about to miss an opportunity to rib Sam by doing something as stupid as agreeing with him out loud. He knew it would never happen, but thinking about it made his heart turn over; two matching silver rings tapping on the railing of a balcony, sun-bleached stucco and curtains fluttering in the hot wind. Drinking vinegary pilsners and driving along a winding coastline, two old American guys with omnipresent sunburns and no past. Sam with his hair in a ponytail, reading a book under a beach umbrella.

Dean blinked and shook his head as if clearing sun spots from his vision. Maybe Sam thought about that life while he was drunk, but Dean thought about it sober. He really, really tried not to dwell on that delta. It made everything less funny.

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

Tumblr Masterlist

Thirty fabulous fics full of filial fumbling later, the Bro Bone Bang is happy to present its Tumblr masterlist with this entertainingly varied list of locations in which Sam and Dean have been getting sweaty over the last few weeks. As always on AO3 we recommend that you heed the tags in order to ensure that whichever item of incestuous intercourse you select is perfectly tailored to your particular taste; with that said, BONE APPETIT!

In a dark alcove at a carnival

In the Bad Place

Right behind John while he’s driving

In a box underground

On the bridge where they meet in Heaven

At Centennial Point Wilderness Area from Changing Channels (Sampala)

In the Dean cave

At a fancy party

In a fetish club

In the first hotel room Smith and Wesson stop at

In front of an audience

On a hexed bed in a witch’s house

After a hunt, covered in blood and surrounded by corpses

In a laundromat

In Mary and John’s bed (non-hunting AU)

In a motel room with broken AC

Outside, during a rainstorm

At an S&M club

Under the table at an all-you-can-eat buffet

On a throne in Hell

In an abandoned house

On a desk in an office

In the hospital when one of them was injured

In the Impala during 10x12 About a Boy (deaged!Dean)

On a motel balcony

In a motel pool on a hot day

At the Mystery Spot

In the Roadhouse’s bathroom

On a sacrificial altar

Against a window

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

Okay, time for a rant that probably no one's gonna care about, but I'm over here thinking about season 9 and I just realized that in the first episode at the hospital, Sam looks perfect? I mean like pristine condition. Hair? Brushed. Face? washed. Hospital gown? Perfectly tied. Like even the sheets are perfectly folded? And as someone who's been admitted to a hospital before, I'm like 99% sure this is not the nurse's job. I mean like they care about your physical well-being and all but if your hair isn't perfect, that's really not their problem.

So basically, I'm saying the only way this would have happened is if DEAN WAS THE ONE to brush Sam's ridiculously long hair or fix his sheets or whatever it is because that's how Dean is. He can't just sit there and do nothing while Sammy is dying, so he's just like okay what can I do? He feels so powerless in this situation so he's probably looking for even the tiniest ways to help Sam and THAT JUST KINDA MAKES ME EMOTIONAL OK?

[rant over]

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

“some people's lack of empathy for sam genuinely concerns me as a fellow human being” SO DAMN TRUE

But also great analysis…😢

you know swan song was a fucking tragic ending but also.. so damn good cause it's one of the most heartbreaking stories about growth… I mean seriously that speech dean gave sam at the beginning of swan song was the most grown up thing dean ever did in the show. ("it's not on me to let you do anything.") and sam is literally doomed by the narrative(I'm saying this again he's just like a greek tragic hero) so that growth leads him to eternal agony but it's also... i don't know what to say… I don't like the idea of redemption by death but in this case.. well.. that discussion needs a whole new post so anyways, dean finally learns to leave the overprotective love behind and respects Sam's choice, and by that, they both could be their own person. it was all about freedom and liberation. but because of that…. they lost each other forever(at that time)… they knew there was heaven where they could be together but sam being trapped in that cage means there's no afterlife for them to meet each other again. sam's gonna spend eternity with satan and dean lost his baby brother forever… it's so tragic it really breaks my heart every time I think about it and i love it. they save the world but get the exact opposite things they wanted. sam always wanted a normal safe life, but he died tragically and heroically. and dean was the one who got the apple pie life, but he couldn't enjoy the world without his baby brother. ugh… I kinda get why dean got worse after s5 cause I mean… who would want to feel all that pain again? just give no choice to your brother ever again to keep him safe by your side forever haha

no but seriously though. before all of these… obviously season 4 happened. the thing about when the levee breaks&lucifer rising was that dean locking up sam didn't make any difference. (except for sam being traumatized ofc) Sam broke the final seal after all, thanks to a certain demon and a certain angel. but in 5x18, when sam could make the same decision for dean, he didn't make the same mistake and chose to believe in his big brother that he would make the right call when things happen. he respected others' free will he never had and that's how the change was made. it's so beautiful and heartbreaking aaahhhhhh!!! how can you not love sam? some people's lack of empathy for sam genuinely concerns me as a fellow human being.. like. is this where humanity heading???? I don't like it. how can you say such mean things to this hero. to this beacon of hope. HOW.?? I will never know. sam is a person who seeks redemption, forgives others and sees good in them. he believes in people. and sam actually changed the world by following that kindness. he literally made a new god. yes, he also made mistakes and failed a lot during the 15 years of his journey, but that just makes him shine even brighter in the end... umm how is this show so good and so bad at the same time… I will never know this too.

why am I randomly having a full on mental breakdown about this goddamn tv show again... help

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

They sure as hell do lolllll

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

😢😢😢

We always talk about how Dean's heaven is not complete without Sammy but we dont talk about how Sammy felt all the time he spent alone without Dean...

This is sad but I'm sure that Sam spent his life waiting for Dean to show up at his door again, to resurrect like so many other times before. He couldn't bring him back to life because he promised it but Sam still hoped Dean would somehow come back to him.

This doesnt mean he wasnt happy with his kid, what I'm trying to say it's that a part of Sam's soul died with Dean, and Sam spent the rest of his life without his other half, he was happy but not as happy as he would had been if Dean was there

And this was the only time he knew it was time to see Dean again, finally. He was going to be a complete soul again⬇️

So it was...

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

I just love how Dean Winchester went from someone who got all awkward at the mention of loving his brother to a total sap who not only bares his soul to said brother but unabashedly stares at him like he’s his reason for being.

I!!! Agree!!!! So!!!!! Much!!!!!!!!!

It's not that he's bad at showing that he loves Sam -- he's not -- but he's always skirted around the L word. I remember how sarcastic he sounded in s5 as he told Adam, "We're working on 'the power of love.' " when Adam asked him how they planned on stopping the apocalypse. You could hear his air quotes around the words the power of love. (Which is hilarious considering how the power of their love for each other is the one (1) thing that's always, always helped them overcome their enemies. It's their number one weapon.) And again in s9, there's this scene:

Dean is uncomfortable whenever he's confronted with the sheer magnitude of love he holds for Sam, and it's the word love that really makes him flounder. The thing is, we know he loves Sam. It's in the way he's always protecting him, making sure he eats his meals when he's sick, passionately yelling grand speeches to him about always putting him first in a church -- but the L word he's always been resistant to ("I love you for trying." he's let slip, though, in a moment of vulnerability and desperation). And that's okay, because it's not like he has anything to prove: actions speak louder than words and all that. Let's be real here: whenever he calls Sam "Sammy" he's saying "I love you."

BUT THE FINALE. He lays his soul bare in his last moments, talks about a time in life when he was at his most vulnerable -- him standing outside Sam's dorm for hours because he feared his reaction, his rejection -- and finally gets over his fear of saying the L word to Sam. All of this, while he's looking at Sam like he's the love of his life. It's such a stark contrast to how Sam and Dean interact with each other in the s11 finale, where as far as they know, Dean is going to die to defeat Amara. Dean knows Sam will be a mess after he's gone so he tells Cass to look out for him, and again, It's Dean who pulls Sam into an embrace. But these two can barely look at each other because of how overwhelmed they are. Now compare that to Dean in the finale, who tells Sam to stay with him, grabs his neck to get a good look at him -- "There he is." -- and he's at peace. He's accepted his own mortality, he's no longer at war with himself, and he's dying looking at Sam like he's the sun and the moon and the fucking stars in his sky, because he is. And he's secure in the knowledge that Sam loves him back, the fear of rejection left far, far behind.

Now that's character development.

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

so true

a scientific analysis of brother-angst in kripke era spn

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

This just struck me as interesting in light of Dean’s speech in the finale (Honcon 2017)

[an-anonymous--flower-blog]

And now it’s perfect ♥