a part of me just goes

Demoneering

Since I’ve fallen way behind, I’m gonna divide this into 3 blogs. First is general feelings before presentation, second will be environment work, third will be parts! Bare with me, prof.

So the presentation is upon us! My team all have cloaks and horns and are ready to get on stage to showcase our game we’ve spent the past 12 or so weeks developing. Despite being really shy, I volunteered to actually help give the presentation instead of just standing there and being a pretty face. Hopefully I don’t fumble my words too much. Capstone’s been really surreal, I can only hope my team goes through because we really all did poor our hearts and souls into this little game. I hope everyone has as much fun summoning and fighting with demons as much as I have! 

Little Les Mis usa tour things

Grantaire and Gavroche’s relationship was so flipping cute. They hugged so much. And comforted each other when things got bad.

After Grantaire’s part in “drink with me” he went of to the corner and Gavroche followed him and they CUDDLED.

When they took Eponine’s body away after she died, Gavroche walked over to Marius and handed him Eponine’s hat.

WHAT A GOOD LITTLE BOY! HIS SISTER JUST DIED AND HE’S COMFORTING THE DUDE WHO IGNORED HER FOR YEARS.

During “red and black” when Grantaire was singing the lines, “you talk of battles to be one!” He jumped up on a table and when he sang, “and there he goes like Don Juan!” He had his bottle and started waving it around like a penis. (Enj was horrified of course)

Then Enjolras took his bottle and passed it to Combeferre (I think) and Grantaire ran to get it. Combeferre proceeded to throw it to someone else and it became a game of Monkey in the middle.

It ended with Enj holding the bottle, glaring at Grantaire. Then Enjolras started singing “it is time for us all…” And Grantaire walked away, while mocking Enj and found another bottle, so he could admire Enjloras from a distance.

Grantaire’s part in drink with me gave me all the feels he nearly fought™ some people. But Enjolras stopped him and they got so fucking close.

They honestly could have kissed and I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

Grantaire stormed away and Enjloras watched, helpess. (and continued to stare at him)

THE FLIP FLAPPING BARRICADE SCENE WAS AWESOME.

It was all like “Boom!” “CRASH!” *Sparks*

Enjloras caught Gavroche’s body when he died. And handed him off to Grantaire. And the Grantaire was full on having a panic attack. The actor was so good oml.

Also Phoniex Best was AMAZEBALLS

I don’t even know what to say! Her singing, acting, and everything was on point. During Eponine and Fantine’s duet she did this amazing riff. Ahh I love her so much. She was my mom’s favorite.

I actually walked passed her on the street after the show. But I was in the other side of the street and she was on the phone so I didn’t want to bother her.

I actually saw the cast when they were about to leave.

Also Julian Lerner (Gavroche) walked right by me and a lady told him how good he was. He was so sweet and thanked her.

Matt Shingledecker was brilliant as Enjloras. So filled with passion and fire. He was amazing .

Nick Cartell and Josh Davis blew my Flipping socks off. Their voices are amazing and they are perfect for their roles

The ensemble is perfect in every way and I love them all so very much.

“Turning,” gave me chills it definitely one of my favorite parts of the show

“Empty chairs and Empty Tables” had me so emotional. I have a deep rooted emotional connection with this song and Joshua Grosso did exceptionaally well performing it.

THE CANDLEEES

This isn’t even half of the magical-ness of Les Mis. It’s truly something you have to expirence for yourself, and I highly recommend you do.

Diane Creech Clinic Recap

In a cryptic preview post early, I noted that my coworker said of my lunge warm-up with Savannah right before my clinic ride: “Yeah my favorite part was when she just like… stood up for awhile bellowing at you from her two feet…”

So yep, there she is, auditioning for two rodeos and a circus 😑 I was thinking to myself maybe today just wasn’t our day, or maybe with enough time I could work it out of her… and right then the trainer says from the door: “ok Natalie it’s time!” At which point my coworker audibly goes “oooooh nooooo.” She is clearly not expecting to see me again alive today. I’m inclined to agree.

So I walk in to the arena that will surely be my grave, and my little monster is jigging like a river dancer. The clinician has to hold her so I can mount. And then, in a plot twist worth of M Night Shyamalan, perhaps PURELY to fuck with me…. she proceeds to be perfect. Moving forward in what the just-as-confused trainer described as a “floating trot.” Dead straight lines. Lovely bends. Circle, serpentine. Boom. Done. We even got some really productive work done on balancing her canter (she did get a little spicy with some classic buck-departs, but overall VERY good).

The clinician LOVED her, my trainer was surprised (and I think impressed), and I am just further convinced that my horse is too smart for her own good, and a big-time show off. Girl needs an audience -_-

Just want to point this out

Anyone remember in rvb season 13 the little maneuver Felix does right after this part:

Originally posted by sunsass

Felix goes between and under the guys legs and throws him to the ground.

(Can’t find the actual gif)

It’s reminded me of this:

Originally posted by shawciopath

THAT is how you know he’s shorter than most men because he uses moves that most women would use. Women are usually smaller so they have to get their opponents to the ground and Felix does the same thing some of the time. He somehow looks bigger and taller in the armor but I just put that as they hadn’t decided his actual appearance yet.

so i was listening to the suffering game arc again because apparently i hate myself so i got to the part where taako has to give up his beauty and magnus goes “ill take two spins if u need to say no” and i??? theres just so much there u know??? magnus was willing to sacrifice twice more after losing his memory of kalen losing hp hell even after losing those ten years he was still willing to lose more for taako to keep his beauty???? like he knows how hard it was for taako to make that decision and he basically said ‘hey ill support u either way and i wont judge u no matter what u choose” and im just;;; compared to what they lost in the past doesnt beauty seem like the most inconsequential thing (at least for most people) but instead being like “dont be an idiot taako its not worth two more spins” magnus is like “im going to take the punishment for u if u say no because i recognize what this means to u” and i think it shows how deeply magnus understands and just trusts taako u know??? and it rly showcases the protectiveness too??? like “im gonna protect u and whats important to u even if others think its stupid or worthless  maybe i dont get it but its important to u so i will protect it even at cost to myself” and he would never judge him if he said no even if it would be incredibly selfish because thats who taako is and magnus just doesnt care idk he just rly understands him and its killing me

Thor: Ragnarok my absolute fave part

- SPOILER if it’s not yet obvious -


So Valkyrie and Banner are complaining about how Loki tried to kill them and there’s Thor saying

Yes me too, on many occasions...

and he literally could just list out all the times Loki went all murderous rage against him but he goes

There was one time when we were children, he transformed himself into a snake, and he knows I love snakes, so I picked up the snake to admire it and he transformed back into himself he was like ‘WAH IT’S ME!’ and then he stabbed me.”

and they all look at Loki and he has this smirk of absolute pride and fondness in the memory, so thank you for this little scene my will to live is restored

The time I messed with RNGesus

Context: My Players are coming back from a quest and getting a reward and pass a test to enter the Adventurers Guild

Guildmaster: Alright, S0 as per the agreement, I’ll give you 3000 gold each.

Bard: …

Ranger: …

Sorcerer:…

Bard: … Okay, then

Me OOC: Oh shit wait, I messed up I meant 3000 total

Ranger: I’m gonna roll to persuade him for that 3000 total, you can’t each get 3000 gold

-Rolls a Nat 20-

Me: No, no, no, this is non-negotiable, that was just a verbal mistake on my part

Sorcerer: I’m gonna roll too

-Another Nat 20-

Me: Guys, no, like I get it but this can’t happen

Bard OOC: If I roll a Nat 20, you have to give us 3k each

Me, after roughly estimating the odds of 3 Nat 20’s in a row: You know what? Sure, but only if you get an honest to god Natural 20

The Bard goes to roll and get a real for real, Natural 20, I proceed to roll on the floor laughing for 5 minutes after being thwarted by my own hubris, and regain my composure

Me, in my DM Voice: So after 30 minutes of very long and tiresome negotiation, substantiation, and just straight up gumption you now have 3000 gold each, leaving the Guildmaster a shell of his former self

omg something wild just happened. okay so i was just sitting on the couch minding my own business, my sister was sitting on the other one, listening to music through her earphones. then suddenly i hear her go “shimmy shimmy ko ko bop, i think i like it” like just whisper-singing along you know

so i just look at her like

siNcE wHEn dO YOu LiSTeN tO EXO

and then she notices me looking and she goes like

“the fuck do you want”

so i just ask her “what are you listening?”

and wanna know what she said? i kid you not, she legit said

“one of those russian bands you like so much”

………

russian

RUSSIAN

where did i go wrong fml

Instagram Is A Tiny Speck In The Ginormous Oil Painting of Life

One topic I think about obsessively: Instagram. More specifically, the psychological effect it has on me.

A while ago I posted a tweet saying I felt conflicted about social media, and the responses I got were surprising. People said that Facebook gave them anxiety, only going on certain sites when their mood was stable, whilst others deleted and re-activated their accounts regularly.

Illustration by Ana Galvan

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with these platforms but they have so many pros that it makes them hard to quit. They connect me to like-minded people, are informative, make me laugh and give me an instant connection to my fanbase. It’s amazing to feel a level of relation in real time. However, in the last year I’ve noticed that every time I go on Instagram I feel kind of flat + zapped afterwards, like somebody has literally sat on my brain for 5 minutes. It’s oddly deflating.

Social media apps are designed to make us addicted to them. Human behaviour is reward based and each time we get a “like” or a message, our brains release a hit of dopamine, which makes us feel rrrreeeeal good (until the dopamine level drops and we feel real bad). Instagram is basically digital meth. So, for the past year I’ve been deleting the app off my phone for large periods of time, then re-downloading it if I want to post something. Interestingly, the feeling I get upon returning is always the same: I’ve missed nothing!

I understand social media’s appeal most when in relation to constructing a fantasy world. I’ve used it as a creative tool on every album I’ve made. Tumblr was key to “Electra Heart” and Twitter was key to “FROOT”. But what at first seemed like an opportunity to communicate our thoughts in an uncensored way has become a vehicle for us to present ourselves in the way that we would like to be seen by others. And this is what makes me feel weird about posting sometimes. A review I read of the film ’Ingrid Goes West’ nailed this feeling: “We use these platforms to lie and intentionally curate our lives”. The curating part hits a chord with me. It makes me feel icky, because I’ve surely, if subconsciously, done this - the majority of us have if we’re using the platform. How do I get around that and use it in a healthier way? Do I just delete the whole thing or do I need to be aware of the reason I want to post something? i.e. Is it to share an image I love, or is to make people think of me in a certain way? The latter creeps me out. It scares me.

Illustration by Allegra Lockstadt

Recently, a friend said he had been going through a difficult period, so he hadn’t gone on Instagram for about a month. “Why would I? Everyone is having such a great time”. Ohhh, the digital illusion of happiness. OK, some people are genuinely having a great time, and they want to share that great time with you, but they’re not having a good time all the time. And that’s the key to remember when we’re embarking on a scrolling spree into the darkest depths of existential hell at 2am. Social media is a tiny speck in the ginormous oil painting of human life. We all have problems. We present the good parts of ourselves because it’s anathema to document the true nature of our lives, which inevitably consist of moments of disappointment, loneliness and embarrassment. None of these things look pretty or cool (no, not EVEN if you put the Mayfair filter on top of them), and I can totally see how it all started out innocently. We all love sharing special moments, but because these moments hold social currency online, we’re now doing only that. It’s easy to see how people can feel disappointed when their own lives don’t measure up in a similar way.

Illustration by Lan Truong

We’re still in the infancy of the internet, trying to navigate technology in a way that is beneficial to our lives, but I sense a shift towards a desire to portray our lives more realistically. I notice more people sharing an experience or story in the caption of a selfie/ photograph that provides more of a picture of their life than the actual photo ever could. But I still wonder how we can evolve online culture into a space that is less image-focused/ self-driven, because I worry about the psychological effects that an image-focused culture might have on a young person’s self-esteem. 20 years ago, posting a stream of pictures of only my face would have been considered borderline narcissistic, but now it’s normal. And I’m not judging this - I’m talking from the perspective of someone who has done this a’plenty and who has been a part of that culture, particularly at the height of an album campaign. Maybe all Instagram has done is magnify what seems to have always been true, that humans value beauty to excess.

Ok, I’ll end this post by saying this: If I never go on Instagram again, my life won’t lack anything because of it. Assuming I use it 20 minutes a day, I’ll get back 122 hours a year - for free! The reality is, I’ll probably continue to use it, but it’s important to me to see these platform for what they are, not what they appear to be. They’re addictive, comparative, take my time and give little back in return.

I’ll leave you with my fave comment which came from @FKASimon.

Quite, Simon, Quite.

Love, Marina

Ask a question or a share a thought here!

You know, it really shocks me to think that some people will go their entire life without ever knowing Ryan Haywood.

there’s no denying that Hearth is a cutie🌸

About Virgil being soft

I get that Virgil isn’t the softest character in the world, but there’s something so soft about him, at least to me personally. He is dark, and cynical and often quite scary, but he is so much more than that. There seems to be this part of him that’s so caring and warm, and it comes through when it really counts. We’ve been getting to see that side of him a lot lately, and hopefully we will see more of it as time goes on. I’m just really passionate about Virgil and how he’s really just secretly a softie at heart, I mean all the sides are really, because they are part of Thomas and he’s the softest guy around. Virgil is strong, and not at all helpless that is certain. He can hold his own, but he’s got a really warm heart.

you know what shook me so hard about the sixth episode? (SPOILERS)

the fact that Jonathan was already coming into Nancy’s room when she opened the door to see him, AND the fact that Jonathan went in for the first kiss JONATHAN. awkward, shy, cautious Jonathan WENT TO KISS NANCY WHEELER FIRST. he spent the first part of this season and pretty much all of last season being so incredibly cautious around her.

when steve destroyed his camera in the parking lot, he was too scared to even say sorry to her…

when nancy asked him to come up on the bed with her, the amount of nervousness and tension he was feeling was so so evident in his body language…

after everything happened, he still didn’t make a move on her (“i waited for you” “yeah like a month”) though granted he did have so much going on with Will and his family…

when Nancy confronted him about taking her home after the party, he lied and said steve asked him to (which he clearly didn’t. we see him walking right part jonathan and out of the party after the fight)…

when the receptionist at the hotel and even the scientist guy asked them about sharing rooms, he was just as quick as Nancy to point out they they were “just friends”.

but then it just gets to the point where he realizes he can’t hold it in or fight it anymore. after hearing what the man said about them, and when meeting nancy in the center of the room, he realizes he just can’t wait anymore and this man GOES FOR IT. i really cant believe the Duffer Brothers love me this much i’m blessed

anonymous asked:

Can you draw south park pairing of stendy and kybe with son and daughter In your art style?

happy fam~

The Dozens of Times Eddie Kapbrak Came Home, and the One Time He Didn’t

(A Story in Sonia’s POV)


–There was the one time Eddie came home angry. Slamming doors, cursing under his breath. I was upset at the language, but more worried he’d catch a little finger, or a toe in the cabinets or doors. I asked why and he pushed me away. He had always been doing that lately. Am I being too much of a worrier? Maybe I am. He’s older now, and doesn’t need me as much. As much as that hurts to admit, seventeen is old enough to be independent. 


–He came home crying again. He’d been doing a lot of that, too. Something was different. He came to me for once. I was selfishly happy, but that left me when I saw him. He had a bruise under his left eye. His lip was cut, and his hands were shaking and red, a sign that he’d had a panic attack again. Those signs used to be foreign to me until he told me those weren’t asthma like I had thought for years. I’d like to think of myself as an almost expert on them now. The only thing hard for me to tell anymore is what might cause them. He has them so often. Eddie comes to me, and sits down, panting. He looks worn down and sad and resigned, as if he’s accepted a heavy fate, or like he was waiting for a piano to fall on him. 

This time when I ask him what’s wrong, he crumbles and starts to cry again. He tells me Henry and his psychopath friends cornered him in the locker room, and roughed him up. He shows me his ribs, and I see red. Partly the dried blood, partly rage. That little freak carved the word “Fag” into Eddie’s little side. It takes everything in me not to take him to the hospital, but Eddie insists he cleaned and dressed it as much as it needed, and it wasn’t deep, no stitches needed. I prayed with everything in me that it wouldn’t scar. When I asked him why they would choose that word, he becomes silent again. He seems to be trying to find the right words to say, and eventually he does. He tells me, stuttering more than the elder Denbrough boy, that it’s because they saw him kissing Richard Tozier. I had nothing to say, and he goes to his room before I could find the right words. I did eventually, over dinner. I tried to make a lighthearted joke, and said he could do better than little Richie Tozier, and that I loved him. He did laugh, but he also cried. This time it was the good way. 


–One time he came home excited, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran upstairs. I called out to him to get the door, but he was down just as fast heading out again. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright, and I can’t help but to think that just a few months ago this same boy was crying in shame over what had happened. He was a lot happier in general, due in part I suppose to coming out, but mostly Richard. Richie, Richie this, and Richie that. I almost wanted to tell him I was tired of hearing it, but his happiness wasn’t something I could get tired of. Despite being a trouble maker and a bad mouth, he did take care of Eddie. I did tell him to stop coming home with love marks- unsanitary and shameless little things. I tried not to think about the fact that he still probably got them where I couldn’t see them. He may be an adult next month but he’s still my little angel.

He tells me he’s finally going out on a real date, just the two of them. That they’re going to see a movie, and he tells me not to wait up. I know I’ll try to, but he always manages to come home after I fall asleep. Sneaky little boy. He tells me he’s already left the name, address, and number of the movie theatre on the counter, and that he’ll be with Richie who can be reached as well. I have his number in my Rolodex, as I do his parents, and the rest of his friends- you never know when you might need them. He kisses my cheek and practically skips out to the beat up truck Richard drives. It has a bench seat and the driver seatbelt doesn’t work most of the time, and I cringe thinking about Richie just sitting on it so he doesn’t get a ticket for not actually wearing it. Eddie promised me he’d never drive it, so at least there’s that. 


–He came home today, silent. It’s almost worse when he does that instead of crying. Eddie was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. I asked if he was okay, and he just stares at me. It feels like an eternity when he opens and says “The school won’t let Richie and I go to prom together… They said if we showed up they’d kick us out.” His voice sounds so fragile and small, like he doesn’t feel like a real person. I’m furious. I tell him I’ll call the school, but he begs me not to. He says it’s okay, he knew it would happen, that this is just the way things are. I, however, will not stand this. As soon as he goes to his room, I call his principle. I can’t remember exactly what I said, though I am equal parts embarrassed and proud to have used foul language in place of his name. “Mr. Shitstain” and I came to an agreement that they may attend as long as they are within a larger group. He will not allow them to have couple’s pictures, but he did reluctantly allow that they dance together. I tell Eddie in the morning and he cries and hugs me. He goes to Richie to give him good news. 


–He comes home after prom with a photo- the whole group is in it, all holding a sign that says “Loser’s Club”. I cringed at the name, but they chose it for themselves years ago. Eddie and Richie are next to each other, and I suppress an eye roll that Richard had ripped open his shirt to reveal an exclamation point painted on his pale abdomen at the last moment. The picture is slightly blurred, and Eddie confirms my theory when he laughs and says the camera guy was startled and tried to lunge at Richard to put all of his clothes back on. Despite this, I see the stars in his eyes. He is happy, so I am happy. 


–Lately he’s been coming home with heaps of papers, college letters, essays, SATs, tests. I try not to think about him leaving. I turn up the volume on the TV or the radio when he uses the phone to talk to his friends about it. It hurts and he knows it hurts. I’ve never been good at not worrying. This goes on for weeks. I fail to keep my tears in when he’s at school or out with friends, but at the same time, I’m immensely proud. He’s such a good boy. 


–This time he comes home, and he doesn’t say a word, and I can’t see him from the kitchen but I know something is wrong. His feet are dragging and his breathing sounds funny. I drop the spoon into the soup when I hear a crash. He’s laying on the floor and crying. Despite him being curled up in a ball I can see he’s covered in bruises and cuts, and bleeding badly. I try not to scream but when I rush to him I can’t hold it, he’s been cut up badly again, more words carved into his soft belly and his thighs. I can see the word “Queer” seeping through his khaki pantleg as he sobs. This time, he does need stitches. In many places. The only thing he says to me from the hospital bed is that he is oh so tired of this town. Richard never leaves his side, growling at anyone who causes him pain or wakes him up, like a wild animal. I’ve decided that I am incredibly grateful that he is who he is. 

He’s in the hospital for three days. Night one was cleaning and stitching and recounting what happened. The police had been called to file a report. He hesitantly confesses that Henry, Patrick, and the other cretins did this to him. Chief Bowers is red with rage. I hear him in the hallway calling my son a “flamer” but that his boy was “going to get it”. This is the first and only time I’ve yelled at a cop. Richie laughs and holds up his hand for a high five, something I wouldn’t usually reciprocate, but tonight is a night of firsts. Night two was observation and tests to see how bad the internal injuries might be. He has a concussion, but they found no internal damage aside from bruises and a cracked rib. They send him home wrapped in Ace bandages and taped up like Richard’s glasses. That night he tells me he needs to leave, that he can’t take this anymore. I’m angry, and admittedly irrational. We do not speak to each other for a week. 


–When we speak again, he walks in the door with Richie, William, and Michael. Out of his friends, Michael is my favorite despite where he lives being so messy. He brings me flowers and fresh fruits and vegetables. He washes them himself, but only once he gets here so I can see it. He’s a very well mannered and intelligent man. William is wonderful too, but I feel guilt in having trouble understanding him, and he has a habit of talking with his mouth full. He’s not as messy as Richard, so at least there is that. Eddie has healed nicely so far, most of the stitches are out already, and the scars he has, though sadly legible, are hidden under clothes. His lip and eyebrow have small scars, but they are hard to notice. The boys have folded boxes in their hands. I knew this was coming, but I still couldn’t bear it. I stubbornly told him I wouldn’t help him, and that I wouldn’t watch him either. He only nods his head, looking down. 

They pack up his belongings, and I step out into the yard, smoking my first cigarette in years. I swiped one from the Marsh girl months ago, when Eddie was starting to talk about college. I thought that was the worst, but this hurts more. He’s leaving too soon, and I can’t stop him. He promised me he’d finish high school, and go to college, but that he would not live here, in Derry. Because we weren’t completely speaking, I have no idea where he’s moving, and now I’m too embarrassed to ask. When I go back inside, William hands me a piece of paper, his handwriting surprisingly neat, with Eddie’s address, and number. He was moving just outside of the city, into the matchbox apartments. With Richard. I can’t help it. When he walks out of the front door with his things, he kisses my cheek. I can’t help it. When the car drives away, their silhouettes in the windshield. I can’t help it. I sit down on the porch, and I begin to cry. I can’t help it. 


–He doesn’t come in the door anymore. Not the way he used to. No angry slams, no excited pops as the door hits the wall. No silent entries when he’s tired. No little footsteps. He doesn’t come home. He visits, sometimes with Richard, and with his friends. He calls frequently, too. He’s a good boy. Time passes, and he came to visit after graduation. He got accepted to a college in Maine. I try to hide how happy that makes me. I promise I won’t go to the dorms too much. He and Richie talk about their lease ending and moving on campus. His little group of friends are trying their best to stick together. They all got accepted to the same school, and will try to attend until their majors take them elsewhere. It’s nice knowing that he’ll have so many friends. 

He doesn’t come home, but he visits. Holidays he even stays in his old room. Sometimes. Other times he stays with William in his new house, just down the street from mine. Sometimes they visit Richie’s parents, or Michael’s farm. It’s a lot like it used to be, but it isn’t the same. I know it never will be, and while I’m sad, I’m happy too. He doesn’t come home, but he gets married in the same church I was married in. They make the paper as the first same sex couple to get married in Derry. Someone booed them as they walked to their car, but before anyone said anything, Richard flipped them off. I don’t tell Eddie, but I caught it on camera. It’s framed in my room, shameful but endearing. He doesn’t come home, but he visits often, asking for advice. We’ll have lunch together and talk about stain removal, and he’s picked up cross stitching for Richard’s anniversary gift. He’s going to make a sign that says “Tozier-Kaspbrak” for their sitting room. 


He doesn’t come home, but he visits often. Many times with Richard, and even more happily with their new daughter. I’ve always wanted a daughter, so I spoil her rotten. I try not to be so overbearing as I was with Eddie. I know it had the wrong impression on him, and I don’t want her to feel the same. I give her sweets when they aren’t looking, and I teach her all about keeping a good home, and let her watch football with me when they need a babysitter. Eddie doesn’t know, but sports are a guilty pleasure of mine. I want her well rounded, too- to know that girls can like whatever they please. Her name is Amelia Isabelle, and she grows so fast. He doesn’t come home anymore, not like he used to. And I’m so, so grateful. He’s leading a good and proud life, and I’ve never been more proud to be the mother of Edward Tozier-Kaspbrak. He doesn’t come anymore, but when he visits, it’s like he never left at all. I’ve lived a good little life, I feel.



“Sonia Kaspbrak, 65, passed in her sleep in her home of Derry, Maine. Natural causes. She leaves her son, son-in-law, and granddaughter. Funeral to be held this Saturday, July 17th at the First Church of Derry. She will be fondly remembered by all who knew her. Everyone is welcome to attend the open service ceremony being held to celebrate her life. 
Thank you, 
Richard Tozier-Kaspbrak”

The Destiel blanket of 13x01

So… I’m rewatching 13x01 and I just have to say. Wow.

Dabb has no chill.

I know I’ve said this a lot but come on, I mean COME ON Dabb. I watch this episode and see all the other excellent meta and plot points of course, but over the top of it is just this blanket of Destiel that affects pretty much every other meta reading in some way or another but especially around Dean and especially when you put it back into chronological order. You can see how the grief over Cas specifically leads his story forwards in this episode and how this will affect him moving forwards and…I’m just stupidly in love with this episode.

There is an undercurrent of Dean’s feelings for Cas present throughout this whole episode, strongly romantic in the Dean scenes and present as a plot mirror even in scenes that Dean is not in. This is the episode that sets up the season. This is the episode that sets up Dean’s arc for the season and in the future, it takes what has been built in the last 12 years subtextually, textualises it and is the foundation for the season to move forwards.

I just… I want to wrap myself in a blanket but I feel like I have to write about the Destiel blanket over this whole episode that tore my heart out and left me needing my own blanket to curl up in a ball on the sofa so, here goes :)

We have an opening sequence that parallels Sam/Eileen again to Dean/Cas and the music, dammit the MUSIC. Literally in the first few seconds of the season we have “Nothing Else Matters”, a Metallica ballad, referring back to Dean in season 1 and linking it to later aspects of Dean’s character growth. Metallica is a part of his performance facade from 1x04, the “scared of flying so humms Metallica” episode, they then show Dean literally blowing down the metaphorical walls of the bunker whilst “never opened myself this way” plays over the top. I MEAN COME ON!

So, performing!Dean’s facade coming down and parallels to the canon romantic couple (and Chuck dammit Dabb you are bringing Eileen back or so help me). 

We end the sequence with this 

Just to remind us, you know, that this is Dean’s key emotional drive for the episode and season.

We then start with Jack/Sam and this again, of course

Dean’s face goes from grief to angry determination. He runs in and immediately tries to shoot Jack in the face. This is the set up of his emotional arc over 01-06. He is angry and enraged because of his grief. This is not a good hark back to good old Dean hunting and being badass, this is utterly devastating.

At this point he’s enraged, sure, he can barely say what happened, but he does. Because he still has a smidgen of hope that there could be a way back. He doesn’t want to face the fact that he might be gone for good yet so he’s just angry that he’s dead in the first place and wants revenge on Jack who did this.

So then we have the search for Jack. But after the prayer scene which chronologically happens here, we see the shift from rage to despair after his prayer goes unanswered. 

We had grief then rage 

And now…hopelessness.

Keep reading

Fuel to Fire (4)

Stucky x reader

Notes: fluff, tattooing, some angst, smut (m/m and m/m/f), anxiety, depression, mentions of parental negligence, swearing.

Summary: Living their dream, Bucky and Steve run their tattoo shop ‘American Ink’ together, happily married for several years and business is going well. When a girl walks into their shop and inevitably into their lives right after they’ve received some exciting news, they have no idea how their lives are about to change with some harmless but straight-forward flirting.

Fuel to Fire (intro) Fuel to fire (2) Fuel to Fire (3)

A/N: it gets hot and steamy. And sexual. 

“Where are we going?” Y/N asks as she has to walk a bit faster than she usually does to keep up with Steve. Bucky’s at American Ink, his entire day booked with appointments, and pouted only a little when Steve left with Y/N to run an errand.

“New York museum of modern art” Steve smiles at her and slows his pace to match Y/N’s.

“Is this because I told you I took art classes in college?”

“That’s part of it” Steve smiles secretively, “you remember the first day you came in to the shop?”

“When you were necking with your husband like teenagers?” Y/N grins and mumbles a ‘mission accomplished’ when Steve’s face goes a pretty shade of red.

Keep reading