Ephostame - Phos

every saturday passes me by and i think maybe i should post those fun little textposts that i enjoy making because they make me laugh. and then i don't. this has been in my drafts since late october. all i had to do was tag. and yet. and yet, | spotify wrapped sucked this year and it made me remember youtube rewind's existence somehow. anyone remember her? she was great. anyway, if you also want to go back in time, click here!

oh hell naw bro not my sport 😭🙏

FILTH TEACHES FILTH.

not normie enough to fit in but not fringe enough to lean into being a freak, worst of both worlds, pure liminality, just the weird coworker, and unrelatable classmate. and your mutual

that one line from bobby's hunting guide or whatever, about how john picked up dean one night on the side of the road after dean had gone out looking for him... in my gut I know john was a "get out of the car; you're hoofin' it from here" kind of parent. a "quit that right now or you're walking home; hope you can find you way" kind of parent.

so I need sam waiting on tenterhooks in the motel room of the week, up way past midnight waiting for john and dean to get back from a hunt. for him to breathe deeply for the first time in what feels like days when he hears the rumble of the loudest car in the universe rolling into the lot, and for john to give the special knock at the door and sam's so relieved to let them in, equilibrium resettling, all three of them together under one roof.

only dean's not with john.

he's not out under the weak light of the parking lot sodium lamps. he's not crouched over the back seat of the impala, rifling through the footwell. he's not unpacking gear from the trunk or coming back from the bank of vending machines with condensation-wet cans of squirt jammed in his pockets or leaning bloody and spent against dad's shoulder.

he's not. fucking anywhere.

I need sam losing his absolute shit, zero to feral in six-point-three seconds flat. screaming and scrabbling at john, "where is he where is he where the fuck is he?!" I need sam just sobbing with his whole chest because it finally happened, this is his nightmare, his literal worst fear realized because dean's dead out there somewhere and knowing dad, he's probably already salted dean down and soaked him in gasoline and lit him up, a tragedy with no loose ends.

I need sam just wailing, can't catch his breath crying, the ugly snotty gagging kind of crying as john finally just manhandles him back into the room and tries to tell him, "jesus, sammy. he's fine. thought it'd be a good idea to run that smartass mouth of his on the way back, so he's taking a little time to himself and walking the last stretch here."

I need sam who looks at john with more disgust and visceral loathing than a twelve year old should be able to manage. who grabs his coat off the bed and his knife from under the pillow and is out the door into the night before john can get a hand on him. I need sam sprinting down the busted concrete drive to the main road and taking off along the sloping gravel shoulder in the oh-dark-thirty blue-blackness, still crying but trying to get his breath back so he can holler for dean.

(I need dean trudging along in the pre-dawn dark, pulling up short when he hears the slip-slide of running feet on gravel headed towards him and his name screamed into the dark. dean who takes off at a dead run because sammy sammy sammy sammy shit-fuck sammy what's the matter)

(I need sam who launches himself bodily at dean when he finally gets close enough. who lets his heart pound rabbit-quick against dean's chest through their jackets. who's probably too big to be picked up and held like this, really, but who can't won't let go once he's got dean wrapped up in his arms. who slides around to dean's back and pulls dean's collar aside so he can put his ear to dean's pulsepoint as he's piggybacked the rest of the way back.)

anyways... john pretends to be asleep when they make it back to the motel. they know he's awake, he knows they know he's awake, but no way is he gonna look at sam's face again without at least five hours of sleep under his belt.

(nobody says a word about it when they pack up and check out in the morning. nobody says a word about it, ever.)

That s6 episode is also the one where dooku punts obi wan into orbit is it not? top ten Star Wars moment tbh just bc of how fast he forcibly exits stage left

YES, ANON, IT IS

It’s also the fight where Dooku literally rolls Obi-wan like a bowling ball:

But then I was looking at it again (for like, the thousandth time), and I realized just how good Dooku is in this duel. (And how almost good Obi-wan is.)

(And small disclaimer here, I have no knowledge of “real” sword-fighting aside from what I’ve absorbed through general cultural osmosis and a curious google instinct, this is just an interpretation from my over-excited brain.)

Anakin, for the most part, sticks with Djem So as his primary fighting style, incorporating elements of Ataru in his more acrobatic moments. This holds true throughout the entirety of TCW and is the form by which he eventually overwhelms Dooku in RotS. 

Dooku, however, gives a minor masterclass in sword(saber) fighting in this sequence, not only using his preferred Makashi (although I have to say, the man can take on Obi-wan and Anakin at once with one hand behind his back and my gods, is that not evidence of skill), but also demonstrating his ability at

Djem So:

Soresu (at least a bastardized form, but I can’t be the only person who recognized that stance Dooku uses):

and Ataru (I mean, Dooku did train Qui-gon):

But what I really love is the fact that Obi-wan tries to adapt to this, matching Dooku’s *Makashi:

and Ataru (in this case, exactly copying his movements):

Which...I mean, Obi-wan is essentially being a mini-Dooku here, although he isn’t quite at Dooku’s level for a variety of reasons I have discussed previously in terms of Obi-wan never being on his game around Dooku and actually consistently underperforming when he’s in the presence of his Grandmaster.

But you have to hand it to Dooku for not only winning a(nother) duel against two of the best Jedi in the Order, but doing it with style.

I love this evil, old man. 

“Mother Void” 2024, Emil Melmoth

"Maybe we'll be different, Dean." "What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man?"

SUPERNATURAL 4.12 Criss Angel Is a Douchebag

Study of an autopsy

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