bardthestoner - Tumblr blog

[bardthestoner]

I will never be over them smiling at each other

[bardthestoner]

I am looking neither respectfully nor disrespectfully. I gaze without recognition of your form, and without understanding.

[bardthestoner]

Hugh's favorite scenes: the scenes they filmed together in the second episode were the heart of the show

For Mads it's Mizumono

[bardthestoner]

okay obviously destiel agenda forever but if we’re being real dean should have been kissing men before castiel was even introduced. dean should have been doing it sloppy style with victor henriksen by the 3rd season at least.

[bardthestoner]

season 1 sam and dean are such a great case study of children from a dysfunctional family. specifically one where one sibling has discovered the abuse before the other. sam is constantly trying to get dean to recognize the reality that he sees, the traumatic nature of their upbringing. dean is constantly resisting this. partly to maintain status quo within the family dynamic (typically role of a golden child) and fight off the cognitive dissonance resulting from sam repeatedly shattering the illusion of their childhood. in this essay i will-

[bardthestoner]

Dean’s visible relief when Jack picks the angel food cake over the devil food cake lives rent free in my head. (And I’m not complaining)

[bardthestoner]

there’s an exchange at the end of 1x18, something wicked, that’s been haunting me.

when sam expresses how he wishes he had a normal, innocent childhood… dean says this:

“i wish you could too.”

not i wish i could have, not even i wish we could have—he has no existing framework in which his innocence is preserved, not even in idealistic fantasies or what-ifs. because dean never got to be a child, even as an adult he can’t imagine a childhood where he maintains childlike qualities.

even in this utter fantasy sam is confessing to, this wish to have had normalcy or stability… dean cannot imagine a universe in which he is included in that. in this ideal world of make-believe where sam keeps his innocence, dean still does not. because he doesn’t even know what that degree of safety or comfort would look like.

dean’s loss of innocence was so young he can’t recall a time before it, and he’s spent his entire life protecting the fractured remains of sam’s at any cost.

[bardthestoner]

No disrespect to all the other actors (I seriously love them all) but can we take a moment and appreciate Misha Collins and Mark Sheppard's acting skills?

I mean, let's just think about it.

60% of what Cas says is "Dean" in infinite inflections, the other 40% literally makes zero sense and it's totally unfunny if the lines are not delivered to perfection. Yet, Misha slays every effing time.

On the other hand, 60% of what Crowley says are sexual innuendos, the other 40% are pop culture references that I personally don't get half of the time (I'm not from the US). Yet, Mark eats and leaves no crumbs every effing time.

And they both have spent 8+ years in the same frigging costumes.

I mean, I'm just blown away, they literally carried the show on their shoulders and I'll appreciate them forever.

[bardthestoner]

This actually makes me laugh every time

[bardthestoner]

that one post talking about how supernatural fans know each writer by name and have an opinion on them and it’s like well yeah. one was writing destiel explicitly in the last few seasons, one is on twitter in 2024 saying that he did perceive destiel throughout his time of writing, and the others thought it was appropriate for the night we met by lord huron to be playing while writing a scene between two brothers. like where do you even go with this.

[bardthestoner]

It's incredible how people have been protesting pants and skirts not having pockets but not a single peep is heard over the fact that skirts no longer have underskirts by default. Underskirts (or lining) was a thing when I was a child, no skirt would be made without lining, you didn't have to think and check if your whole ass is visible in a skirt because lining was a thing!!!! Now most skirts don't and it's simply because it's cheaper, fuck the fact that a customer doesn't want their panties shown in broad daylight, it saves a couple of cents on material.

[bardthestoner]

Jason using his guns as blunt weapons is so funny like imagine ur getting shot at by the Red Hood, he runs out of ammo, you think you have a chance and he just throws the fucking pistol at you

[bardthestoner]

My stage career began when I was a little under two months old, when I took the spotlight as Baby Jesus in a Christmas pageant. I’m told that I did a wonderful job and slept calmly through the whole thing, which can only speak to my talents as an actress, because I was 1. the wrong gender 2. a colicky screaming demon of a baby and 3. about as far from divine as it’s possible for an allegedly-human child to be. 

I continued to be actively involved in theater as a kid (and frequently played roles of various small animals, because I was tiny for my age). Around the age of ten, I was cast as the lead character in a musical about cowboys that I no longer remember the name of. It was my first real lead role, and I took it very, very seriously. And because I am myself, that means I maaaaybe went…a little overboard.

My character’s introduction was early in the play, accompanied by the crack of a bullwhip. This was more-or-less pre internet (or, at least, our director was not tech-savvy enough to find sound effects online) and we didn’t have a sound effect track for that noise. There were plans to acquire the appropriate sound effect before opening night, but I rapidly tired of making my entrance during rehearsals to the sound of someone yelling “BULLWHIP NOISE!”

This, I thought to myself, is a problem I can solve.

I learned early in life that it’s good to be friends with people who have skills; they always come in handy eventually.  After rehearsals one day, I put on my cowboy boots and biked a couple miles over to my friend Grace’s house. I went down to their basement and knocked on her older brother’s door.

“Hello,” I said. “I need to learn how to use a bullwhip.”

“….Okay,” he said. It did not seem to occur to him that he might ask further questions about why I, a tiny horrible munchkin composed exclusively of rage and pointy elbows, needed to be weaponized any further. Clearly, I had come to the right person.

My friend’s older brother would have been an SCA nerd, if SCA was a thing where we were. Instead, he was one of those unsupervised 4H kids with weird hobbies, largely oriented around ancient forms of combat. He was somewhere in his late teens at this time, and he liked to make stuff. It was an urge I, even at age ten, could sympathize with. His name was Aron. 

Aron got out his bullwhip (which I had noticed hanging on his wall on a prior visit, and had filed away mentally under a for future use tab) and we went to the backyard. 

“Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron began, “Swinging the bullwhip.” 

We rapidly discovered that since I was god’s tiniest, angriest creation, a full-size bullwhip was way too long for me to use. Aron’s shins suffered for my attempt. 

“…Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron said, “Making a bullwhip.”

So we went back inside, found a tanned cowhide (that he just…had? I don’t remember if there was a reason for this.) and some razor blades, and I learned how to cut and braid a bullwhip. It took a few tries, and I wound up coming back for a while, because I kept getting frustrated with the bullwhip-braiding process and Aron kept distracting me with bait like: “Hey kid, wanna learn to make some chainmail?” and “Hey kid, wanna fletch some arrows?” and “Hey kid, wanna try doing horseback archery?”

Obviously the answer to these questions was “BOY, WOULD I EVER!” Some delays are necessary to the artistic process.

(At one point my mom asked me “Hellen, what are you doing over at Grace’s house all the time?” And I, perfectly innocent, said, “Making weapons!” and my mother, who never understood why I was like this, but accepted that a girl has needs and those needs occasionally involve stocking a personal armory, said “Okay! Have fun!”)

Soon, the bullwhip, size extra small, was finished. The lessons on actual bullwhip use commenced. 

It should be noted that Aron was self-taught, and really had no idea what to do, so this was mostly an exercise in the two of us standing twenty feet apart and flailing wildly with our respective whips until snapping noises happened. And then we figured out what we’d done to make the snapping noises. And then we kept doing that. Extremely vigorously. So vigorously that at one point one of the bullwhips launched into the air and caught on a tree branch and we hand to drag the trampoline over so Aron could bounce me high enough to grab it. But we persisted!

Eventually we reached a point where we could line up pop cans on a fence rail and hit them off three times out of five.

Feeling extremely accomplished and like I finally understood method acting, I packed my bullwhip into my backpack for the next play rehearsal. Soon enough, it was time for me to make my entrance. 

I leaped on stage in my cowboy boots and cracked the bullwhip as hard as I could, immediately launching into the song despite the fact that the sound of five feet of braided leather breaking sound barrier had startled the accompanist so badly she’d keysmashed on the piano.

The director shouted something she probably shouldn’t have shouted in a room full of small children, and then demanded, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!”

“I made it!” I declared proudly. “I’m a cowgirl! I can make my own bullwhip noise!”

“You…made it?” 

“Yes! Because we needed a bullwhip sound effect. And bullwhips are where bullwhip sound effects come from!”

This was, of course, impeccable logic.

It is apparently difficult to argue with a gleeful ten year old who happens to be armed with a bullwhip longer than she is tall. After some negotiation, the director agreed that I could use my bullwhip for my opening song, provided that I didn’t pop it while anyone was anywhere near me on stage and I didn’t let anyone else play with it. These terms were acceptable to me. 

Somehow, no one was injured and the play went off without a hitch. We can only chalk up these things to the magic of the theatre. 

Nearly a decade later, an unsuspecting college classmate asked me, “Hellen, wanna take a class on bullwhip combat with me?”

And obviously I answered, “BOY, WOULD I EVER!”

[bardthestoner]

HANNIBAL + Text Posts 28/∞

[bardthestoner]

season one of supernatual is so funny to me. sam and dean will literally show up to the crime scene in some fuck ass flannels and dean is in his leather jacket and the cops are like "who the hell are you?" and dean will be like "oh, us? well we are obviously from the us fish and wildlife service who else could we possibly be???" 

meanwhile theyre in the craziest outfits known to mankind with no badge or anything, so the cops will ask for their IDs and they'll hand them the most unconvincing fake id you'll ever see. the thing will be crumpled to no return and look like it was all hand written by a toddler and SOMEHOW THE COPS STILL BELIEVE THEM??

and then, they'll start questioning the victims family like "aw man :( I'm so sad for you :( that must be really hard :( so like what happened? and on a completely separate note, did you see anything? feel a temp drop? did you feel a cold spot? did you see something weird? like a creature mayhaps? like a ghost? did you see a ghost? do you believe in ghosts? please tell me it's a ghost?" like that's a totally normal line of questioning for a random drowning from two members of the us fish and wildlife service.

[bardthestoner]

take his ass to the timeloop

[bardthestoner]

You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me