concrete watch

On the shooting of Delphine Cormier

I heard a few of the ecstatic cries of “Delphine lives!” that echoed ‘round the internets back in June, before I knew who Delphine was or had any concrete plans of ever watching Orphan Black, so when I dove in a few months later, I was already aware of the following:

  1. there was somebody named Delphine
  2. at some point, she would appear to die
  3. except not

I wasn’t there for the Great Fandom Mutiny that erupted in the wake of the season 3 finale. From where I was sitting, Delphine was only gone for like two days, and there was never any doubt that she was coming back. I can imagine how it might have felt to be left wondering about her fate for fifty-one weeks, but I can only imagine. The disappointment, the anguish, the sense of betrayal? I never got the chance to feel any of that.

Furthermore, there’s the issue of representation, which I like to think I understand, but being a member of the most over-represented demographic in the history of American/Canadian television, I’m aware that my understanding is limited by the fact that it isn’t something I can experience.  I can denounce the constant killing of wlw characters on TV, both as a trite, lazy cliché and as a harmful way to represent a marginalized group, but I can’t know how it would affect me to have prime-time dramas repeatedly reinforcing the idea that stories about people like me can only end in tragedy. So I acknowledge that even if I had been there from the beginning, Delphine’s shooting wouldn’t have had the same impact on me that it had on much of the fandom.

All right, I’ve got the disclaimers out of the way, now on to the point: in the debate over the showrunners’ true intentions in the infamous parking garage scene–whether Delphine was actually meant to die or not–I lean towards believing the official line, which is that they planned to bring her back all along. From a storytelling standpoint, it just doesn’t make sense to have such a fan-favorite character die off-screen between seasons, and then leave her fate unaddressed for so long. Confirming her death nearly a year after she was shot–after so many viewers had given her up for dead–would have had no real plot-twist value; it would have been the very definition of anticlimactic.

Admittedly, this is not an ironclad argument. It hinges upon the assumption that Graeme Manson and John Fawcett do not have their heads up their asses, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my multiple decades as a watcher of TV, it’s that this can never be safely assumed about television producers. Compound this with their unambiguous denial that Evelyne Brochu would be returning for season 4, plus their tone-deaf response to everyone who rebuked them for perpetuating the Bury Your Gays trope (essentially “Yeah, but it was different when we did it*”), and I can easily see where the other side is coming from. So for those who are still angry about it, be angry; I’m not telling anyone how to feel. If Delphine’s eventual return/resurrection was not sufficient atonement in your book, that’s your business.

But I’m jealous. I wish I could believe they meant for her to die. If they killed her off and then caved to fan pressure to bring her back, do you know what that means? It means they understand that they fucked up! It means they’ve learned that we will not stand for these shenanigans! It means Cophine is safe!

Or maybe not. This theory, too, is dependent upon an uncertain assumption: that the showrunners have managed to keep their heads out of their asses ever since those heads were dislodged by the uproar over Delphine’s apparent death. Still, I can’t help thinking that I’d be a lot more optimistic about a Cophine happy ending if I believed Fawcett and Manson had learned a lesson from all of this. If they always intended to bring her back–as I suspect is probably the case–then what lesson was there to learn?

*which, incidentally, is what all TV producers say when confronted about this

anonymous asked:

I think Starlight, by notebooksandlaptops has lovely writing, it's so idk just read it

oh that is a really lovely one

Starlight by notebooksandlaptops

The year is 1934, the month is September (the 30th to be exact) and James Buchanan Barnes has come onto the roof of his best pal Steven Grant Rogers’s crumbling concrete apartment building to watch the comet the crackling radio on the kitchen side spoke of that morning with Steve by his side. How could they know when they brought the pillows and blankets up there that this night would be a night of confessions and comfort and starlight?


The one where Bucky comes out to Steve on a rooftop in the 1940’s and the aftermath of that small yet enormous event

The AP United States History Exam is right around the corner. These next few weeks are the most stressful time of the year for most students. So, if you are going to procrastinate, you can procrastinate with style! Here is a list of movies, musicals, videos, ect. that came to mind while I was studying during the year. They are a lot of fun to watch, but they are educational, and most of them are free!

TV Shows:

Liberty’s Kids: a super cute, animated series that takes place during the American Revolution, and highlights some of its aftermath. There are 40 episodes, but each thirty minute episode is full of concrete details. Start watching the first episode here 

Drunk History: Really funny with some topics not often discussed in the textbooks, but very relevant. 


Hamilton: obviously this is a no-brainer. The music is full of concrete details and has helped me so much during my multiple choice practice tests dealing with early US development. You can listen to the full soundtrack here. Below is a shortened list of songs that have the most relevant concrete details.

Dogfight: Probably my favorite musical. It’s one night in America during the Vietnam war, and there aren’t a ton of concrete details, but the parts here (starting at 1:19) and here (10:25) accurately reflect the time period. You can start watching the whole musical here. (warning: there is a lot of cursing)

Pocahontas: Okay, let me preface this by saying that there are a lot of inaccuracies in this movie. A lot. But if you disregard the portrayal of Pocahontas and John Smith, there are some CDs. Listen to the Virginia Company for some of the highlights. 

EDIT (7/9/16) : Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson: Though there is some explicit language I picked out the songs that have some great concrete details on Jackson’s presidency and philosophies.

  • Populism Yea Yea: a helpful definition of populism
  • The Corrupt Bargain: this event always confused, and this song definitly clears it up (featuring Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun and John Quincy Adams)
  • The Saddest Song: really sums up Jackson as a president in a different point of view


Schoolhouse Rock: Reconnect with your childhood and refresh on some historical events!

The XYZ Affair: i

t may be weird, but you will definitely remember it

The Gadsden Purchase:

Never forget

So that’s my list. All of the links are italicized. If you have any movies/musicals/videos/songs/ect that you think would help feel free to message me and I will add it to list. Good luck to everyone on the test this Friday!

rosy-red sunrise

took my bundle of problems
from my coat pockets,

drop-kicked them onto
the cold, hard concrete before me

& watched them shatter & melt
in the ever-increasing heat & light

of the morning’s rosy-red sunrise.

something about enchantment,
that startle of succinct splendor

a blowtorch to the boorishness
belying my bouyant bonhomie,

burdened by the lottery of misery
that is Chicago, its chill & sunless skies;

the frequency with which someone dies,

this litany of rhyme & alliteration finds a foundation 
in the rose-dipped tinge - flipped & soul-gripped - 

by a particular urbane, urban pup
sipped from this morning’s winter cup.
2/17 - lebuc - rosy-red sunrise

Above Water 

Written by: @helvonasche & @madamelibrarian  

A/N: We wrote this monster. Hel is the Sam to my Dean. Brace yourselves for a good time.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 898

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Warnings: Accidental Voyeurism, Masturbation

This Time With Feeling series

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 

After taking a few laps, Sam relaxed as he floated on his back in the deserted pool. Not thinking about what he was going to do when he left his dad and brother for California or the gripping fear that he was in over his head; just the cool water and warm sun on his skin.

Keep reading

When I was young I thought that I wasn’t Mexican, because ‘Mexican’ was someone who labors, and I hadn’t labored yet.

In some ways, I was right.

My abuela was Mexican. She showed me the tan lines on her skin once, permanent marks from when she had picked cotton in the field and the sack on her back had left part of her pale. And in my young mind where the world was still arranging itself into rules, I thought, 'This is why Mexicans are brown, and this is why I’m not Mexican.’

My mother was Mexican. She drove me through the barrio where she used to live once; streets riddled with potholes, concrete Guadalupe’s watching over small gardens in small lawns. It reeked of poverty, and I thought, 'This is where Mexicans come from, and this is why I’m not Mexican.’

My cousin was Mexican. I met him at a funeral in Texas. My abuela nudged me in the pew and pointed at him and said, 'His name is Juan Pablo too.’ He was covered in tattoos; he wore a long white tee and a gold chain. 'This is what I would look like if I were Mexican,’ I thought, 'but I am not Mexican.’

My classmates would dress up as Mexicans on Halloween. Some of them wore ponchos and sombreros and mustaches while others wore hard hats and orange vests and holey shirts – construction workers. I was angry but I didn’t know why. I had no reason to be. 'They are not dressed up as me,’ I thought to myself. 'I have never mixed concrete. I have never built a house. They are dressed up as Mexicans.' 

My streets were paved by Mexicans. My food was prepared by Mexicans. 'Mexicans,’ people would say, and I knew they meant 'workers.’ 'Mexicans,’ said the news, and I knew they meant 'thieves.’ 'Mexicans,’ said my abuela, and I knew she meant 'us,’ but I felt uncomfortable standing in that word with her. 'Mexicans,’ said my mother, and I wondered if she meant me too, and if she did, I wondered if she was wrong.

When I was young I thought that I wasn’t Mexican, because 'Mexican’ was someone who suffers, and I hadn’t suffered yet.

In some ways, I was right.

I took a million pictures
of you, like a sun rising
through a photographic lens,
watching you bloom, through concrete
slabs, I watched you rise.

Pedals fell, swaying in the air,
like a loving hand, rocking them
to a peaceful sleep.

Every smile, a streak of sunlight,
through Autumn painted groves,
like a forest on fire.
Every face, painted or no,
waking or sleeping,
a brush stroke of Leonardo.

Every sparkle of light,
in those dreamy eyes,
a starry night,
a masterpiece, like Paris all
lit up at night.

A voice that breaks open
gray clouds filled with rain,
a hymn in a church,
or like Heaven’s bells,
where a voice
fell in love with a soul,
created through symphonies,
together through destiny.

Frequencies causing vibrations
in the ground, up you came.
I hear music in your sunrise,
an angelic chime,
of finely tuned vocal chords
that resonate
like heavenly hymns,
played on harps.

—  Letter for my Queen XXXI ( Heavenly. )

30% of French Jewish Students Stay Home After Attacks

As much as 30-40% of France’s Jewish schoolchildren stayed home Monday, Channel 10 reports, on the first day of school after Friday’s attack on a kosher supermarket in Paris. 

France has deployed nearly 5,000 security forces and police to protect the 700 Jewish schools in the country this week following the attacks, according to special instructions from Interior Minister Bernard Cazeneuve. 

Students arriving at school saw policemen or soldiers guarding the entrances like a military base, sources told the Israeli media; some schools, such as the Lubavitch (Chabad) elementary school in the 19 arrondissement, were guarded by a full squad of French soldiers on a 24-hour watch - after concrete threats were made against it and shots were fired. 

At the Pardes Hana school, security has been heightened, and students were asked to present a passport at the entrance. Police is conducting regular patrols around the clock near the school and a police car is parked outside the building at all times. 

The school’s principal told Channel 10 that the terms “life” and “death” mean nothing to children at the elementary school level, and that it is netter to tell them that God will lead them to their proper destiny.

 However, students have not stopped talking about death, he said, with students saying they are afraid of being attacked and expressing fears that their relatives could be murdered.

Lost It To Trying (Closed)

Starter for thegirlwiththebuffytattoo

“That’s what I like to hear. You’re taking initiative now…Very good choice,” He released Arcadia’s hair, retracting the gun from her back as he stepped to her side. Opening the chamber, he poured the remaining rounds out onto the concrete floor, watching as they scattered about. Dumping the gun onto one of his minions, he crossed the room to stand before Cosima once more.  “Words mean nothing unless shaken on,” He hissed, seeing the hesitation in Cosima’s stance as he reached out his hand to the other, quickly making a pass to grab her by the wrist that held the scythe. Squeezing tightly, he waited for the metal to clash against the concrete before pulling Cosima in close, fangs waiting to sink his teeth into her pale flesh. 

Cosima was helpless as the vampire sunk his teeth into her neck, unable to make any noise as shock overtook her. She could feel her heart beating rapidly and pounding through her entire body. It slowly turned into pain that overrode any other feeling. There was a small part of her still aware of her surroundings and- no one was coming. She could hear some of the vampires laughing as they cheered on their leader. This had been a trap, they had known there would be backup. Opening her eyes again she looked up towards the ceiling, seeing edges of black creeping into her vision. All of those times she had been saved, saved in some way. And this was how it all ended for her.

She managed to get out a weak grunt when his fangs left her neck. Feeling his strong arms hold her up against the wall she watched through lidded eyes as he used a sharp nail to cut at a vein on his own arm. Why was he doing this? With some maneuvering he had his arm slid behind her neck and was bringing her closer to his now bleeding arm. Feeling the blood touch her lips she couldn’t even attempt to fight him off and that’s when she heard the doors open. Both hands desperately grabbed at his arm, feeling a hunger she had never felt before. She had to drink this blood, something in the back of her mind was telling her to and she had no will power to stop it. It was all she could focus on, eyes drifting shut as she finally let the darkness take over her vision. She was distantly aware that he was suddenly gone and could feel dust against her before she fell to the ground.