TODAY MARKS THE 1-YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THE VERY FIRST TIME I DREW SUPERNATURAL SO!!!! I’m finally gonna do a Supernatural giveaway!
(1) person is going to win:
- (12) 1.5” Diameter Pin-Back Buttons
- (10) 4”x6” Photo Prints of their choosing
(you can get a better view of some of the photo prints at my store!)
Like and reblogs count and you don’t have to be following me! I don’t know how the note system works anymore, but let’s just say one reblog per account. I’ll pick a winner on Friday, June 28 around midnight (if you don’t have your askbox open, I’m going to pick another winner so keep it open!)
Thank you all for being so wonderful to me over the past year ♥♥♥
Tattlers and Fannibals, I am so pleased to bring this to you. I was lucky enough to sit down with Bryan Fuller himself and ask some of the questions that I was dying to know the answers to.
This article is FULL OF SPOILERS for upcoming seasons/the books/the movies so you are warned!
I HAVE SO MANY THINKY THOUGHTS NOW
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—-Those dying generations—-at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unaging intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
-William Butler Yeats