Whistle Blower, just recently adopted (originally named Whistle Tracker but I renamed him)

RP character mostly

I should probably start pointing that out more, that a lot of the characters I make are RP characters and not project characters which is why they aren’t getting their own blogs and such.

(that or some are for waaay in the future)

Fifty years ago, the Voting Rights Movement marched through Selma and over the Edmund Pettus Bridge. The marches across the bridge led to the passage of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, and today the bridge is a symbol of nonviolent victory for change! Unfortunately, the bridge is STILL named after a man who served as Grand Dragon of the Alabama Ku Klux Klan, was a Confederate General, and was later elected as a United States Senator. The bridge was the site of “Bloody Sunday”. On March 7, 1965, hundreds of nonviolent protesters attempted to march from Selma to Montgomery for their right to vote. But as they crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge, they were met by Alabama state troopers and deputized civilians who were armed with billy clubs, tear gas, and cattle prods and attacked the marchers and drove them back to Brown Chapel Church. How could a landmark that holds so much significance for the civil rights movement be named after a man who not only supported slavery, but held one of the highest positions within the Ku Klux Klan? It’s time for the state of Alabama, the city of Selma, and the National Park Service to remove a KKK leader’s name from the historic bridge.  Selma and the Voting Rights Movement altered the course of history forever, and Selma has done too much for this country to remain unchanged. Selma is currently 80% African American, with a black mayor and majority African American local city officials. The name Edmund Pettus is far from what the city of Selma should honor. Let’s change the image of the bridge from hatred and rename it to memorialize hope and progress. Please sign our petition calling on Selma and Alabama leaders and the National Park Service to rename the Edmund Pettus Bridge.


Yahoo! celebrates 20th anniversary

It’s been 20 years since two Stanford University electrical engineering students created a small website that would become the tech giant Yahoo! Company founders Jerry Yang and David Filo debuted “Jerry and David’s Guide to the World Wide Web” in January 1994. In its first iteration, the site was a directory other pages on the web, organized in a hierarchy.

It was not the massive searchable index of online destinations that the Yahoo! search engine is today. The site grew faster than the pair expected. They renamed it Yahoo!, an acronym for, “Yet Another Hierarchical Officious Oracle,” and on March 2, 1995 it was incorporated. As we celebrate 20 years of purple and yodeling (the company’s iconic audio trademark), here’s a look back at key moments in Yahoo!’s history. (Yahoo News)

See more photos from Yahoo’s anniversary and our other slideshows on Yahoo News.

Today’s feature: @tressaernst
Today’s location: Mitchell Point is a cape in the Columbia River Gorge in Hood River County. Little is known about the man named Mitchell for whom the point was named. He was believed to be a trapper who lived and died in the area. There have been some efforts to rename the point Storm Crest, but they have not been successful.
Image selected by @ericmuhr
. via Instagram

*tries to make a new folder* *computer crashes*

*tries to rename a folder* *computer crashes*

can i go one fucking day without this godforsaken shitwreck computer crashing

Beginnings and Cherry Blossoms: Another Perspective

Note:This is Elsa’s POV of the first chapter of One Year. For Tuesday’s prompt (First meeting). That bit about renaming San Fransokyo was from The Art of Big Hero 6.

“Areyou sure about this, Elsa? Surely you don’t have to go all the way to SanFransokyo to complete your studies—it’s an ocean and a continent away!Professor—“

“Papa.” She normally would not interrupt her father, but her mind was made up. She couldn’t live like this anymore, this limbo of being so close to someone she cared for so much, yet out of reach—literally. She couldn’t bring herself to touch her sister Anna, fearful she might be hurt by her once more because of her curse.

Elsa needed to get away. While she had accepted long ago that there was no escape from the storm inside of her, staying physically away would bring her a measure of relief. She was so tired of carrying her burden.

So when she learned that Robert Callaghan, one of the foremost minds in robotics, was teaching at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, she jumped at the chance to study under his tutelage. Not only will going at SFIT provide her the escape she desperately needed, it was also her chance to further her interest in programming and coding for robots. Elsa suspected that her interest stemmed from her need for a semblance of control in some aspect of her life. At the very least, it would help her prepare for her eventual role as the CEO of Arentech when her father retires.

Elsa forcibly brought herself back to the present. “I’m sure of this,” she said, her steady gaze meeting her father’s worried ones.

Agdar Arendahl sighed. “If that is what you want,” he capitulated.

A month later, Elsa stared at the tiny figures her father, mother, and Anna through the window of her family’s private jet. Anna looked stricken with disbelief that she was leaving. “It’s what your sister wanted,” Agdar had tried to placate his younger daughter over dinner, after Elsa had announced her decision. But Anna, true to her stubborn nature, had refused to accept such a thing, redoubling her efforts to make Elsa notice her by knocking at her door and pleading to talk and clear the air between them.

Elsa had proven to be just as stubborn as Anna, keeping the door shut between them.

“No, Papa,” Elsa whispered. “I never wanted this. But what else can I do?”

Knowing that she was alone in the jet’s cabin, she choked out a quiet sob as snowflakes danced gently around her.

“Here you are, Ms. Arendahl. Please fill out these forms to complete your registration,” instructed Mrs. Jones, the matronly registrar, handing Elsa a sheaf of papers. The tall, amply-bosomed woman had a head of curly white hair that reminded Elsa of clouds and a beaky nose. “Be sure to have these submitted by next week if you want to start by this coming semester,” Mrs. Jones continued, peering at her through horn-rimmed glasses.

“Thank you,” Elsa replied politely, tucking the papers into her satchel. She made her way downstairs and exited through the administration building’s double doors, shielding her eyes from the bright San Fransokyo spring sun.

Though the decision to leave her home and everything she was familiar with was the most difficult and scariest one she had ever made, she was beginning to see that it was the right one. Her first night alone in a strange city left her sleepless and anxiety-ridden that when she finally lost the battle out of sheer exhaustion, she found herself waking up amid a large, wet patch on her bed that suggested she had let loose a small snowstorm while unconscious. But over time, as she got used to the city’s sights and sounds, her confidence and sense of comfort grew. The business of living had left her no choice but to shunt those initial feelings aside, creating a façade of normality.

Two faint male voices snapped her out of her musings, and she found herself walking along a cobblestoned path lined with cherry trees in full bloom. A light breeze blew by, dislocating some petals and carpeting the path with pink. A sense of whimsy overcame Elsa—cherry blossoms were unusual in Arendelle, though not unheard of. Before she left for San Fransokyo, she researched about her new, temporary home and found out that it was originally named San Francisco. But after an earthquake in 1906 practically ground the city to rubble, many of its Japanese immigrants helped in reconstruction efforts that it was renamed San Fransokyo.

The cherry trees all over San Fransokyo were said to be from a hundred fifty-year-old cherry tree from Japan, which Elsa found a little incongruous considering that for the Japanese, cherry blossoms symbolized life’s transience.

That jarred Elsa out of her whimsical mood. “Life’s transience, huh?” she muttered, plucking an errant petal from the air as it passed her by. Once again, she was reminded of the accident. That her carelessness almost snuffed out Anna’s life.

She sighed and let the petal go, watching it flutter away. No matter where I go, what I did will always haunt me, won’t it? she realized, gritting her teeth to keep the tears at bay. She blinked them off when she heard the male voices coming closer, sensing one to be nearer to her than the other.


Elsa started at the exclamation and whirled around to see a guy sprawled by her feet, his papers (she assumed) strewn all around him. “Are you okay?” she blurted out, concerned. She wasn’t sure because a black cap obscured his face, but it seemed he was okay, if highly annoyed that he had stumbled and made a mess of his papers. He pushed himself up to his knees and collected his things, muttering something under his breath.

Elsa guessed he wasn’t saying something nice, even if she didn’t understand anything.

She stepped back when he suddenly looked up at her. Brown, almond-shaped eyes blinked at her in surprise and widened before they quickly over her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked again, bending down and resting her hands on her knees to get a closer look at the guy. She started to wonder if he really was, because he looked rather gobsmacked. That was the correct term to describe the slack-jawed expression on his face, right?

“Ah—yeah! Yeah. I’m fine.” The guy shook his head briskly as if to clear it. Elsa saw a flash of embarrassment cross his face, so she tried for a reassuring smile. “Here, let me help you with that,” she offered, going down on her knees as well to help gather his scattered papers and things. She adjusted her gloves which attracted his attention, but thankfully he didn’t say anything.

Elsa surreptitiously studied him out of the corner of her eye as she helped him. Underneath the cap he had black hair, an aquiline nose, and a strong jaw. He was cute, she supposed. Japanese-American, perhaps, considering that San Fransokyo had a sizable Japanese population.

“Th-thanks,” he stuttered when she handed him his notes.

“It’s no trouble,” she replied, nodding and rising to her feet. “Do you have everything?” She was a little taken aback when he rose to his full height—a little over six feet, she guessed. Same as her father.

He bobbed his head in a jerky nod and grinned down at her. Though his grin was wide, there seemed to be an undercurrent of tension about him. Was she making him nervous? Why?

I didn’t…do anything, did I? she fretted.

“Absolutely,” he asserted, his voice a touch too loud, probably to mask his apprehension. He stuffed his notes in his satchel and brushed off his jeans, presumably for her benefit. “See? I’m good.” He grinned again.

For a moment the two of them stared at each other, unsure of what to say. Elsa resisted the urge to fiddle with her gloves—the fact that she wore a pair was unusual enough, and the last thing she needed was to call attention to it.

The guy cleared his throat. “Anyway, uh. Thanks. You know, for helping me and stuff.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cluing her in that she really did make him uncomfortable, sinking her spirits a bit more. But as always, she didn’t let her face betray her feelings. Elsa nodded to acknowledge his thanks.

“Good. You’re welcome.” She gave him another slight smile, intending to walk away.

“I’m Tadashi. Tadashi Hamada. And you are?”

Elsa stopped and glanced back up at him. Why was he asking for her name? She made him uncomfortable, didn’t she? Did he have some kind of agenda? And besides, she was here to study, not make friends. This guy—Tadashi—he—

“Elsa Arendahl,” she found herself saying.

Maybe it was his earnest brown eyes. Or his crooked smile when he introduced himself—it was cute the way one corner of his mouth was higher than the other when he did. It was genuine and friendly, which had probably disarmed her enough to introduce herself too.

Tadashi nodded. “Nice to meet you, Elsa.”

She liked the sound of his voice—a warm, slightly raspy baritone. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but she guessed that the slight frown she was feeling between her eyebrows was probably making her look standoffish. Just as well, because she wasn’t in SFIT to make friends. “Take care, Tadashi,” she said, spinning on her heel to walk away.

Elsa sighed and shook her head. No surprise there over how awkward she had been with him—after all, she did spend years trying to keep away from people. Normally she would have shrugged it off, but this time it bugged her like a pebble in her shoe.

The sound of running footsteps alerted her, and she had barely turned her head when Tadashi sped past her. A jolt of awareness shot through her when his brown eyes zeroed in on hers. “Hi and bye, Elsa!” he tossed over his shoulder, waving.

When was the last time someone had been that happy to see her? She couldn’t remember, and Tadashi’s happiness over seeing her had unhinged her jaw slightly with disbelief. He had only just met her—there was no way…

Don’t be ridiculous, she berated herself mentally. Shaking her head again to clear it of such thoughts, Elsa decided to head home and fill out the forms the registrar gave her.

Probably check out what’s on Netflix, too.

You’re here in San Fransokyo to study, not make friends. You’d best remember that.

Tagging the usual suspects makingtodayaperfectday, blunaowl, copper-anise, geometrynerd, et al.

History of Japanese Learning

Just for fun!

Here’s a Japanese phrasebook, One Thousand Familiar Phrases in English and Romanized Japanese, published in 1867, written by Rev. John Liggins. In the preface, Yedo and Miaco refer to Tokyo and Kyoto respectively. Kyoto was the capital of Japan until 1869 when Yedo/Edo(江戸)became the capital and was renamed Tokyo(東京) meaning Eastern capital. The old name for Tokyo is the reason that Tokyoites are known as 江戸っ子(えどっこ).

It’s interesting to see ye cropping up instead of e, for example iiyenu instead of ienu for ‘cannot say’, and also the use of older speech styles.