I must share to you readers that I am in the middle of a very much expected but somewhat rough decision at the moment. After about six or more years of having the same black Toshiba laptop that has stored information from middle school crossover fanfiction to job resumes to questionable png files, I’m afraid it has officially kicked the bucket or at least fallen into some kind of cybernetic limbo.
After one faithful day when it gave itself one less kick to grant me the privilege of finishing Miss Koboyashi’s Dragon Maid and was forced onto an infinite black screen for all eternity, it dawned on me that my little pal that has been my partner in blogging for years just couldn’t pull through the strength anymore.
It was an old, busted thing by now-touch pad now replaced by a wireless mouse, brown-gray dust permanently caked onto the screen and in between the keyboard from lord knows wear, a severe lag that regularly musters an effort to keep my video files and word documents secure as I mindlessly surf the internet, and a battery that kept my computer at a pathetic half way point that threatened to undo all of my current progress if a passing dog were to trip the wire at the slightest.
Little Tobi (as I called them) was a good friend and I will dearly miss them and the disposable information I will lose from letting it rot in the bottom of my bed for now. I write this now from my mother’s laptop as I secretly plan out my next move.
The likely preceding from here is that I have plans to buy a new laptop to continue my work, to which you are entirely right. I am already aware that the simple black Toshiba with its decent screen size and functional keyboard are all I need for a few extra years of blogging and book pitches, but it’s so…boring.
Beyond my desktop customization, there’s not much to old Tobi that really sparked the imagination of what kind of person I am and what business I have with a laptop from the get-go. To any passerby I could easily be an accountant or an overworked college student grinding through an essay.
It’s a bland but perfectly usable piece of machinery that has done me no wrong for years, and yet I find myself eager to pursue something different. Something more pink.
I am set for my next laptop to be a pink one and my itchy buying finger might just make that happen before the summer ends. And my strong, personal desire for every item within my reach to be pink-or something related to pink-tends to skew my idea about features and actual quality.
My sights have been set on a smaller computer with less memory and detachable keyboard for about a week and I am so very close to just finalizing the deal without anyone else’s input because…it’s pink. And I like pink.
Based on that tumblr post about being in a musical and suddenly having to participate in a duet because your soulmate is singing even if you are nowhere near one another.
Some people have these full-on, over-the-top, Broadway-style musical numbers—fully choreographed original songs that have other participants and all that jazz. Scott and Allison have that kind of insane West Side Story love and as such, lots of songs. The first one is about that stupid pencil loaning moment and takes up half of their history class. Stiles ends up with a bunch of sidekick exposition songs in the epic love story of Scott and Allison. He knows his own soulmate is out there somewhere since he has songs running through his head often enough, just nothing as over the top as an original song about pencils.
Derek always knew he wouldn’t get a big show-stopping musical number with his soulmate. After how much love has jerked him around in his short life, he would rather pretend he doesn’t sometimes feel the compulsion to sing along to 80’s power ballads he hasn’t actively listened to since high school.
They’re sitting in the car, and Stiles’ dad is poring over the scans, gesturing violently at the air. ‘I just don’t understand!’ he says. ‘There’s never been anything out of the ordinary on any of your tests, and yet you always have seizures! How come nothing ever comes up?’
Stiles shrugs, has heard his dad complain about this a dozen times before. Stiles is pretty sure that he and Derek are some kind of magical soulmates and this is the way the world has decided to connect them, but somehow, he doesn’t think that’ll fly as an explanation.
The guy was really too young for the leather daddy aesthetic, but with the leather and the more-beard-than stubble and the eyebrows… Yeah, he was kinda working the hot grumpy leather daddy biker gang leader look.
And Stiles liked it.
For the prompt: Sterek soul mark fic wherein marks never match, they just line up perfectly to be a shape.
After being beaten up by a door, werewolf Stiles Stilinksi finds himself bonded to Derek Hale, of the Hale Noble Bloodline. For a scrawny, wimpy, Tainted Bloodline werewolf, Stiles runs away, embarrassed and humiliated as he worries about bringing shame to the Hale Family, and even more shame to himself. Because the Nobles and Tainted just don’t mix, never have, never will.
Except, things aren’t exactly what they seem.
With the help of the (meddling) Hale family, his adoptive (meddling) human parents John and Claudia Stilinksi, and one very persistent Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles might come to see himself as more than just the blood that runs through his veins, and open his heart to find the happiness, friends, pack, and the family that he’d always wanted.
#Supernatural TippiTV Recap: 10-10 “The Hunter Games”
Please see the end of the recap for info on my new Kickstarter campaign!
Previously on Supernatural
Man, I thought this was bow-chikka porno music for about two seconds, and then I realized it was an ELO song.
Anyway, Dean died. Then he got better! Then he got worse. Then this happened:
Then he got really worse. Then he got better again! Then he got kinda worse again.
Currently on Supernatural
Instead of going right to Dean after that preview, we drop in on Crowley having a nightmare about his crummy demon minions turning on him. This seems like a normal dream for any ruler of Hell to have, considering how disloyal demons are. But it turns out his witchy mom, Rowena, is inducing the dream with a hex bag. Where do you even get the makings for a hex bag in Hell? Seems like the kind of contraband they’d keep out of there.
At the Lair O’ Letters, Dean sits in his bedroom and ruefully remembers killing Creepy Randy and that band of aspiring rapists. Good riddance to the lot of them, I say. But apparently it’s sometimes wrong to kill people on this show and this was one of those times. He goes to look at himself in a symbolically cracked mirror.
In the library, Castiel and Sam mull over Claire’s loyalty to Creepy Randy. Castiel says the guy didn’t deserve to die, but I ain’t gonna offer kind words in his obit. Dean walks in right when they’re talking about his murderous rampage.
But Dean feels even worse about it than they do, and begs Castiel to burn the Mark of Cain off his arm. Castiel says he can’t. “It will take a very powerful force to remove it,” he says. A very powerful force like…
Right? Right? Alas, they don’t mention Cain. Why would they mention Cain in relation to removing the Mark of Cain? He’s only the dude who put it on Dean in the first place. I just… I don’t… I… insert frustrated flailing here. Castiel gets a really bad idea.
Rowena tries to convince her baby boy that the demons are plotting against him. She does this so broadly, so comically, that Crowley should be able to smell her deception a mile off, but he’s not quite as suspicious as he should be. Maybe hanging out with the Winchesters has made him soft.
****** An angel named Ingrid brings a shackled Metatron to Castiel at the playground that apparently no human children ever use. “He must be returned intact,” she reminds him. So, like, don’t get him neutered or whatever.
Sam gets him all chained up in the LOL, then reveals that Dean is still alive. Metatron is surprised at first, then delighted to learn that Dean is a killing machine. You’d think he’d be pooping his pants about now. So Dean comes lurking out of the shadows to put some fear into him.
Castiel has some drama with Claire. I’m sorry, but it’s super boring so I’m keeping it super short. Claire is upset over Randy’s murder. “Dean Winchester is a monster,” she seethes. “It’s possible there’s a little monster in all of us,” Castiel says. Well, perhaps if one plays their cards right. Claire hits the road in a fury because he’s defending Dean. Girl hasn’t seen the past six seasons.
Metatron spends some time Metatronning. “Blah blah I’m a weasel blah failed attempt at humor blah.” You know the routine. He agrees to help them remove the Mark. “You’re gonna need one specific thing… your old bud…” I inch to the edge of my chair during his dramatic pause. Is he gonna say it? Tell Dean that he needs…
“…the First Blade,” he finally finishes. NooOoooOOOoooo!
Crowley drops everything the instant he gets Dean’s call. Like, literally he’s in Hell and he gets a call on his cell. Reception in Hell is that good, but demons always be using those complicated blood sacrifice deals.
As soon as Crowley is gone, Rowena goes over to something that looks like disused fuse box where Crowley keeps an assortment of neck ties. That’s so… random. She snips a piecce off one of them for a magical Etsy craft project.
Claire makes her way to a pool hall that’s haunted by the ghost of Bobby Singer.
She makes friends with a couple of drifters and pretty much instantly tells them her entire life story, including the parts where her father and father figure got murdered. Talk about oversharing. I thought these drifters were gonna turn out to be angels or demons pumping her for info, but no, they’re just random losers.
****** Rowena uses her magical Etsy craft project to spy on Crowley’s meeting with the Winchesters.
She sees Crowley being dismayed at the thought of retrieving the First Blade. Then she sees him reluctantly agreeing to get the blade, which he stashed with his entombed bones, in Guam. Question: Why in the flippy hell would he tell the Winchesters where his bones are buried, thus giving them the ability to destroy him? Answer: Because the show needed Rowena to find out about the blade and then persuade Guthrie to go fetch it.
Castiel blows a fuse when he learns of the Winchesters’ plan. “I don’t have a choice,” Dean says. You don’t have a choice? You don’t have a choice?!
Castiel changes the subject to his terrible sorta-family issues. He asks Dean to talk to Claire. The idea is so awful, it circles all the way back around to being brilliant! “I thought there would be a connection,” he explains, “one extremely messed-up human to another!” Dean’s like, “Whatever, we needed these storylines to cross by the end of the episode anyway.”
By the time Crowley gets to Guam (did he stop off to watch a movie?) he discovers the blade has already been taken. That’s because Guthrie has unwittingly delivered it to Rowena, who promptly kills him.
When Crowley walks in and sees this, Rowena quickly covers up her treachery by saying Guthrie was disloyal and she had to kill him. Since this jibes with Crowley’s earlier anxiety dreams, he seems to buy it.
Claire has taken up with the loser drifters in an RV park. When Claire complains about Dean wanting to meet, the drifters offer to kill him up real good for her. This is even after she tells them he butchered a whole bunch of people all by himself, which just goes to show you the ego and/or stupidity these new friends are saddled with.
Metatron tries to blackmail Dean into giving him a bunch of stuff before he reveals the rest of the Mark-removal plan. Dean’s just like, “Ha ha no,” and locks himself in the torture dungeon with Metatron and an angel blade. Dean rattles off a list of Metatron’s offenses, starting with stealing Castiel’s grace and ending with killing Dean.
Metatron’s like, “Well, you did a bunch of bad stuff, too, so nyah!” So Dean punches him in the face. Metatron is delighted, and tries to Emperor Palpatine him into the Dark Side of the Force. Dean punches him a whole bunch more, then takes to carving him up a little with the angel blade. Metatron exposits that hurting the Scribe of God will juice up the Mark even more than demons. I wish this show had exposition in song form like Galavant. You know what else Galavant has?
At some point, Castiel and Sam realize Dean is in the torture dungeon alone with Metatron. The door’s lock must have some magic to it, or something, because even Sam’s moose powers aren’t able to bust through it. Castiel has to use some of his angelness to break it open.
Sam pulls Dean back. Castiel grabs Metatron and scoots him back to Heaven before Dean can neuter him.
Later, in the library, the brothers talk things over. “He said the river ends at the source,” Dean says. “What does that mean?” Sam wonders. It means Cain. Cainnnnn. Sam posits that perhaps part of the “powerful force” has to come from Dean himself. And then, finally, someone mentions Cain. It’s not part of a proposal to contact him or look to him for removing the Mark, but at least it’s a mention. Cain, Sam says, has managed lived with the Mark for years. “Dean, maybe there’s a part of you that wants to give into it, and you have to fight it.”
Honestly, that would be the most interesting angle to take with this storyline, because otherwise Dean is just a victim in his own story, helpless, without choice or responsibility. It’s just something happening to him.
The next morning, Dean drives up to the RV park to meet with Claire. Keep in mind it’s sunny and there are people around, but the drifters decide to approach Dean with a baseball bat and an ax. At the last moment, Claire calls for them to stop. They keep going.
Dean disarms them both like he’s blowing out a candle on a cupcake. He looks like he might take the ax to them, but Claire shrieks. Instead, he brings the ax down on an unsuspecting park bench. BASTARD. What did that bench ever do to you, Dean? The Mark is out of control.
Later, Castiel catches up to Claire as she’s hitchhiking, sans drifters. She says she’s going to try letting go of the “little monster” inside. So, like, no more contract killers in her future? But she still wants to be alone, although she offers to call Castiel once in a while. “Oh and I liked you better in a tie,” she says before he drives away. Perhaps he can borrow one from Crowley’s fuse box.
And.. that’s the end of the episode.
I give this episode three Hellhounds
and a poem:
“Limerick for a Lost Bench”
There once was a park bench named Billy Where sat lots of bums and a willy. He supported all backs ‘Til Dean threw an ax On a day he was feeling all killy.
Kickstarter Stuff: Would you like a super classy limerick like that? Just pledge funds to my new recap campaign. A bunch of people banded together and pledged funds for the first 11 recaps this season, since TWoP died and took my recaps with it. I hope you’ll decide to back the next 11, too! (I’m covering the finale regardless, so I didn’t include it in the project.)