Someone made a comment to my last post of Kristoff being the first one who had really caught Anna for the first time since Elsa. They said that Hans said “Glad I caught you!” But here is why I don’t think that counts.
Hans: I have said this before and I will say it again: Hans is flirty. Everything he does is to win over Anna. Here Anna is pushed to the group, so why not catch her? It’s the perfect flirting tactic. And look at him how he smoothly pulls her up while putting his oh so sophisticated champagne glade down. Then he raises his eyebrows in a flirting manner as he leads her into a waltz. Everything he does is to please her, seduce her. Catching her is part of that plan.
Kristoff: This guy isn’t catching her for him, he’s catching her for her. He doesn’t expect to get any love from her. He doesn’t try. She just asks him to catch him and I think he would have anyways. I mean look at his worried face as she falls down. What if she falls? What if he doesn’t catch her? But he does and as you can see, he’s breathing heavily. He’s not trying to affect her because she already affects him. And that is confirmed by the lovestruck gaze he gives her once she leaves his arms.
So why don’t I count Hans as someone really saving and catching Anna? Because even without being knowing he is evil, he’s too smooth. He’s not doing it for her, he’s doing it for him.
Kristoff on the other hand is actually worried. He doesn’t want to have anything back, he just wants her safe because that would be his greatest reward.
Sometimes, I wish that Dean would have talked to Cas. I wish he would have told Cas all of things that he’s never told another soul. All of the things that he keeps trapped deep inside of him. All of things that he hides, even from himself.
Sometimes, I wish that Dean would have understood that Cas saw him at his worst, when he was less than human. That Cas embraced his ragged soul and raised it from Perdition. That Cas mapped every inch of his physical being, every inch of his soul as he rebuilt the Righteous Man. That Cas understands true evil and knows that his soul has been immersed in torture and filth and the decay, and yet it survived and it shone brighter than the Sun.
Sometimes, I wish that Dean would have sat down with Cas and told him his story. I wish that Dean would have told Cas about that little boy who gripped his baby brother tight as he watched his entire life burn to ground. I wish he would have told Cas about that time when he was just a little boy and couldn’t speak the words that drowned in his heart. When his daddy wasn’t home and baby Sammy couldn’t tell him that he’d be okay. I wish Dean would have told Cas that he’s never told a soul that he rock bottom at four years old and he’s never gotten back up. That the day the world went away, he became a four year old man under the weight of it all. That his biggest fear is dying one day, knowing that he never had the childhood that every kid deserves. That his only solace is that he tried his damnedest to give that to Sammy, and it was enough.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas about that time he broke because the tattered remains of his family fell apart. That he crumbled under the weight of the dissonance between following his daddy’s orders and letting Sammy leave. That he spent years lying, and cheating, and using, and being using in order to survive, in order to feel..something. That he finally found that illusive contentment that people talk about when his brother was back in the passenger seat, when he set out on an adventure to put the pieces of his family back together again. That when he found out contentment was a lie, when his daddy died after every trial and test of pure will, he finally realized that his both of his parents burned away in that godforsaken house. That he’d just been to blind, too hopeful, to see it.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas about the weight of knowing that Sammy would have to die. About how he stretched and reached every bit of his tired soul to the brink to find the will, to find a way to change his baby brother’s fate.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt it like to hold his dying baby brother in his arms. To know that he was too late. That no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t enough to save Sammy. That not being enough is what broke him in the first place. That at four years old, he thought that he did something wrong to deserve this - to lose his mom, to lose his life. That he never thought that he was enough and that’s why mom left, why dad left, why Sam left, why God left.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to sit in the room with his baby brother’s corpse. That the smell and the evidence of his failure was oppressive. That it beat down on him so hard that the fragile strands of his connection to this plane of existence broke away, leaving him in the free fall of self-deprecating grief. That in his desperate pleas for guidance, the thoughts of his own death that surfaced were akin to relief. That a part of him yearned for the reprieve of hellfire rather than living through Hell on Earth.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas how it felt to know that his days were numbered in every sense of the word. To know that his greatest fear was coming true – that he was dying, he was leaving Sammy behind, that he broke his promises to his dad, that he failed his momma’s memory, that he was headed toward a dead end in a life he never got to live.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to be torn apart, layer by layer, limb from limb, piece by piece until he shattered into nothing and was rebuilt again - for thirty years. To be tortured and used for thirty long, dark, filthy years. To feel the relief of the weight of the blade in his hand, to feel the control and the sense of utter, maniacal calm. To inflict the pains he suffered on others sevenfold under the guidance of his master.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to wake up in the suffocating dark. To wake up trapped inside a box that denotes deaths and decay. To have to claw his way out of his own grave, into the sunlight and the field of destruction that mirrored his own soul. To be reborn into this world of tragic hopelessness where his existence has no name to the masses and his purpose is to be used up by the Universe in some unholy mission of vindictive destruction.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas why he wasn’t strong enough to complete his mission. That it wasn’t because he was weak. That it wasn’t because he was broken. That it wasn’t because Hell left him a shadow of his former self. That Dean out of the hellfire was the same Dean that went in – broken, lost, hopeless, hapless. That the reason he wasn’t strong enough was because he knew, his soul knew, every particle of his being knew, that his fate was to watch his brother die. That he wasn’t strong enough because no man can live through the loss of the only thing that keeps him alive twice in a lifetime that never should have lasted this long.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to carry the weight of the world, the weight of Hell on Earth, the weight of Heaven, and the weight of the future of mankind on his shoulders. To know that one simple word would spell the fate of the cosmos. To know that being alive hinged humanity on his choices and his ability to kill his own brother. To know that the only escape was to just say yes. That in the alley, for a moment, he thought that Cas was going to kill him. That in that moment, he felt the weight ebb to the relief of being done. That being left alive was his torment. That always being the one left behind is a certain kind of destructive darkness that you carry in the deepest part of your soul, that grips your heart in such a way that it can barely beat.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it was like to think that, by some miracle, his brother was saved, only to discover that the man standing before him was a shadow of his former self without his soul to guide his conscience. That he was slowing walking toward the cliff of his own downfall. That while Sam wasn’t Sammy anymore, he needed Cas more than ever. That it was a whole new kind of pain that he couldn’t comprehend that he felt when Cas chose Heaven, again and again, over him.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to feel his heart shatter and crumble under the weight of Cas’ betrayal. That a more humane method of assisted suicide would have been to be trussed up and flayed apart by Alastair by choice. That knowing the only rock, the only constant in his life had deceived him. That after everything they’ve been through - the rebellion, the battles, the loss – that his one cornerstone of constant loyalty and camaraderie was a liar with the capacity to tear down Sam’s one shot at sanity while simultaneously tearing down every shred of trust that he has given freely from the bottom of his mangled heart.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what his life was like when he was gone. After Cas walked into the middle of a lake and disintegrated into a million pieces of broken promises and misguided intention. That he couldn’t sleep at night because his dreams were flooded in lake water. That he lost his ability to trust anyone, even his own flesh and blood, because the betrayal and the loss ran too deep. That while his nightmares were a Technicolor rehash of his failures, Cas remained an inverted, esoteric presence in his mind where the grip on his heart was too tight to release the coloring of understanding. That the only way to drown out the lake, the loss, the grief, the utter gut-wrenching pain that throbbed through the entirety of his soul was to sink under the weight of his alcoholism. That he drank because he couldn’t comprehend the burden that Cas’ loss placed on his soul, because he’s lost so many in the past, yet this was comparable to losing Sammy all over again. That without Cas and without Bobby, he wasn’t capable of living beyond his quest for revenge. That once again, death would be his release from this particular kind of Hell on Earth.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it was like to see him again. To know that Cas had no memory of him. That everything they had been through, everything that Cas had done had been erased. That he couldn’t find it in his heart to shock the truth back into Cas because, while he had his best friend back, to have a moment of simplicity amidst the chaos, he couldn’t bring himself to make him remember the terror and mass destruction that he inflicted on Earth and in Heaven. That he tried so goddamn hard not to care anymore, but the things he felt for Cas ran too deep to be ignored. That in the end, on their last day on Earth, he wanted Cas by his side because there was still no one in this world that he trusted more than him and Sam.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to immerse himself completely in the purity of the stink and decay of the wasteland that was Purgatory. That he set his mind on the destruction of every beast within the realm that obstructed his path back to him. That the moment he laid eyes on Cas for the first time in months was the happiest he’s felt in longer than he could possibly remember.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it was like to fall through the wrinkles of time and space, landing back on Earth, alone. To know that he failed another person that he loves by leaving them behind. That knowing that it was Cas’ choice to stay to do his penance provided him with not a single drop of relief because Cas made the choice to leave him. That knowing the truth was just one more slice of Alastair’s blade through the lining of his heart, just a tighter grip on his heart that could barely beat by its own strength any longer.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to kneel at his feet, submissive to his violent intent. To look his certain death in the face and beg. To not beg for his own salvation, but to beg for Cas’. That the trust between them lay shattered on the floor amongst the rubble of the tablet encasement. That even within an inch of his life, he still fought for Cas. That he will always bring him back from the edge. That promises of brotherhood are illusions in the face of the emotional depth of a bond that runs deeper than they can fathom. That even “I need you” was insufficient to define the meaning and importance of family. That “I need you” was a forcible attempt at speaking a word with a connotation that burned to the ground thirty years ago.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to race to save his brother’s life again. To finally, finally make it there in time, to tear him away from the brink of death, only to watch him fall closer toward it in the end. To feel the weight of the inevitability of Sammy’s death fall across his shoulders again. To make a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to see him sitting lifeless in that chair. To have to pull the blade out of Cas’ chest, to feel the give and take of human flesh under his hand. To feel the abyss open beneath his feet and swallow him, if only for a few moments of horrified bereavement. To feel the part of his heart that he allows to love under the duress of the ever-present vice around it cry its own lament. To feel the burst of relief when Cas was, yet again, saved. To feel a few more moments of completion and complacency in between the strains of abject desolation.
I wish that Dean would have told Cas what it felt like to walk a broken road of isolation and self-inflicted misery. That he was so far gone that burying his soul six feet under the essence of his existence was the preferable manner of feeling alive, of feeling anything at all. That propelling himself on a wayward crusade of mutually assured destruction of the enemies was a welcome chance at release from the life that he has been cursed with. That holding a blade that was drenched in the rot of millennia-old death and destruction was a rush of power that he had lacked for the entirety of his life. That staring death in the face no longer gave rise to feelings of fear or loss of the life that was taken from him by fate. That death brought him purpose. That death brought him a cold calm that encompassed his soul and dragged it down deeper into the shifting, growing depth of darkness within.
I wish that, in the face of his death, Dean would have told Cas how he felt. How everything he’s ever done his entire life has been about protecting his little brother. That Cas is family now, and he’s been family for a long time, and the he would do anything, give anything to protect him, too. That without Cas, his life stopped having meaning, stopped having purpose. That without Cas, he was lost in an incomprehensible flood of emotion and grief that continues to torment him to this day, the same way that losing Sammy twice continues to influence his every thought and every choice. That every loss feels like a failure because his job is to protect his family. That he is supposed to reconstruct that memory of a house and a life full of light and hope and love by building a new life with the two people who always came back to him. That a real life, a happy life, is hidden just under the ash and the rubble. That family is bound by love…and he loves. That he loves his brother more than anything else in the world. That he loves Cas in a way that is driven by the omniscient force of inevitability. That he loves Cas with a depth that finds their souls bound by an unbreakable long foretold divination. That he loves Cas in ways that he will never be able to express. That he will try every moment of each day, until he draws his last breath, to tell him.
More than anything, I wish that Dean would have been able to say goodbye…
I love how the further Dragon Age progresses as a series, the more retroactively badass everything the warden did in the first game becomes.
I mean, the guy you pulled out of a cage can become the freaking Arishok. That odd woman you meet in the tavern and decide to bring along can become Divine Victoria. Alistair can be king. That witch who turned into a dragon when you fought her was actually an ancient elven god. If we count Dragon!Andraste and the arch demon, that’s three potential dragon gods you can kill in that game.
You manage to resolve tense political situations that would take other groups months of efforts and tons of diplomatic resources and military presence with just yourself, your colourful band of misfit/murderous companions, and your dog. In under a year.
You can even make friends with one of those insane darkspawn magisters that almost destroys the world in DA:I. Just like, palling around with him. Swapping notes. Doing trust building exercises while everyone else is losing their shit over Corypheus.
And it’s just hilarious because the Hero of Ferelden is this person who some of the most powerful individuals in Thedas will actually fall in line behind, this ridiculously competent and influential figure who solves world-ending problems like they’re Sunday morning crosswords, and it’s going to be useless in the coming crisis because they can’t bring the warden back.
What I really love about this couple is the trust that is developing between them. Of course I could not find gifs for all the moments but I feel like these are the biggest ones. They go from completely doubting eachother, to jumping off cliffs together and being dragged around in a blindfold. I feel like this development of trust is a very real one and one that isn’t shown in most disney movies.