87 years old

Resources for 125+ languages

I’ve found this list with resources for over 125 languages on pastebin (https://pastebin.com/UjkfE3qk - I can’t use hyperlinks in this post for some reason). I reposted it under the cut in case it ever gets lost but it includes the following languages:

Afrikaans, Ainu, Akkadian, Albanian, Ancient Sanskrit, Arabic (MSA as well as six dialects), Aramaic, Armenian, Assyrian, Azerbaijani, Basque, Bengali, Berber, Breton, Cajun, French, Cantonese, Catalan, Cherokee, Classical Armenian, Classical Greek, Classical Latin, Coptic, Cornish, Crimean Gothic, Croatian, Czech, Dari, Dutch, Egyptian, English, Esperanto, Estonian, Faeroese, Farsi, Finnish, French, Frisian, Furlan, Genovese, Georgian, German, Gothic, Greek (Modern), Greenlandic, Guarani, Hakka, Hawaiian, Hebrew, Hindi, Hittite, Hungarian, Icelandic, Igbo, Indonesian, Inuktitut, Irish , Italian, Japanese, Jèrriais, Koine Greek, Khmer, Korean, Latvian, Lithuanian, Malay, Maltese, Manchu, Mandarin Chinese, Manx, Maori, Mari, Mayan (Classical), Mayan (Tzotzil), Mayan (Yucatec), Mixtec, Nahuatl, Norwegian, Okinawan, Old Church Slavonic, Old English, Old Iranian, Old Irish, Old Norse, Old Prussian, Old Tupi, Persian, Middle Polish, Portuguese, Proto-Indo-European, Quechua, Romanian, Rromani, Russian, Sami, Sanskrit, Scottish Gaelic, Serbian, Serbo-Croatian, Shanghainese, Sicilian, Slovene, Sm'algyax, Spanish, Sumerian, Swahili, Swedish, Tajik, Tengwar, Thai, Tocharian, Tok Pisin, Toki Pona, Tongan, Turkish, Vietnamese, Volapük, Welsh, Wu, Xibe, Yoruba, Yup'ik and Zulu

Some of the links are broken and there are more resources for some languages than for others but I still think it’s really worth checking out, especially for those of you interested in lesser known languages.

Keep reading

I’m 87 years old…I only eat so I can smoke and stay alive.. The only fear I have is how long consciousness is gonna hang on after my body goes. I just hope there’s nothing. Like there was before I was born. I’m not really into religion, they’re all macrocosms of the ego. When man began to think he was a separate person with a separate soul, it created a violent situation.
The void, the concept of nothingness, is terrifying to most people on the planet. And I get anxiety attacks myself. I know the fear of that void. You have to learn to die before you die. You give up, surrender to the void, to nothingness.
Anybody else you’ve interviewed bring these things up? Hang on, I gotta take this call….. Hey, brother. That’s great, man. Yeah, I’m being interviewed… We’re talking about nothing. I’ve got him well-steeped in nothing right now. He’s stopped asking questions.
—  HDS
The One That Got Away

<Hopefully I’m doing this right and it isn’t too terribly long…>

The humans don’t talk about the Fair Folk they notice, so none of them seem to think about the ones that don’t reveal themselves. We don’t exist - never have, never will.

I’m one of the younger Fair Folk at only 87 years old. My abilities lie in shape-changing and glamours, and I like to blend into the background. Because of this I can ensure that my features are normal; I have the proper parts - no more or less, and my hair and eyes are a perfectly normal brown and green respectively. In short, I look like a normal human girl.
I guess that’s why the actual human girl felt comfortable approaching me. I’d been sitting in the library reading when she walked right up to me and introduced herself.
“Hey, I’m Melody. What are you called?” (No one ever asks what your name is. Answering truthfully would be as unwise as lying. It’s one of the first “customs” that incoming students learn about.)
“I suppose I’m called Siné.” I don’t know what to think of this bold, blue-haired, dark-skinned girl. Her eyes are a lovely shade of blue-grey.
“Neat name. So what’s your major? English somethin’?” She gestures toward the book I’m holding. It’s Shakespeare and I’d been considering Taking it for my collection.
Instead of answering, I shrug. She seems to think that I’m a student, and I’m certainly not going to correct her.
Rather than getting suspicious, she takes it as a yes. “That must be fun! I’m a double major in the arts - Music Theory and Creative Writing.”
Interesting. Such a clever and creative mind she must have… “You write and you compose?”
“Yeah…” She blushes. “It’s really fun but also really stressful. Especially here.”

In the end, we talk until the library clocks have moved forward several hours. The clocks outside have probably marked less than 45 minutes since she introduced herself.

(“Why did you come over anyway?” - “It’s been hard settling in. I’m from southern Louisiana, so I don’t know anyone here. Everyone else is too scared of the… forest… to talk to strangers, but you don’t seem to mind.”)

She invites me to her room when the librarian starts glaring at us.

(“I need feedback on my latest piece. How do you feel about the fiddle?” - “It’s a lovely instrument and I’d be honored to hear you play.”)

I was right, she is very creative. The Shakespeare is back in the library, but some of her sheet music goes missing. The other Fae try to find her, but her room is blocked from Their sight. They’ll just have to be content with listening.
That night, I enroll as an English major and arrange to be roommates with her. Melody’s original roommate gets moved to another building. The humans assume I’m a late transfer, and the other Fae don’t care.

Eventually, she learns enough of the Rules to understand why she still can’t find her music, no matter how hard she looks. After that, it all gets locked inside a hawthorn box with an iron lock within a circle of salt. She tells me this while complaining that she worked hard on that music and it’d be nice if They’d at least left a note or something.
The next morning, she finds a politely worded and complimentary letter on her desk. It has no signature. The music is not returned.

Months pass while we grow closer. I go everywhere with her; we have writing classes together (I try to see what she writes, but the angle is bad), and I wait outside her music classes (at least I can listen to her play). When she goes to a party, I’m always by her side. She dances sometimes, and I’m always watching. Eventually she stops going to parties.
One night she shares her stories with me and I have to fight the urge to Take her as I listen to grand tales of adventure and magic. It’s good that she wears enough iron to stop me.
The other students start to notice that we’re inseparable. So do the Gentry.

The Fair Folk never stopped looking for the musician whose performances hold the entire campus in awe of their beauty. They just could never find her until they saw how I favored Melody. After that, it was a simple matter for them to peel back my protections and confirm their suspicions.
I should have Taken her while I had the chance. I would have taken care of her, given her anything she wanted in exchange for her creations.
The students aren’t surprised when we both disappear one night.

It’s easy enough to find Melody. She’s inside a golden cage in front of the entire Court of Underhill. A Fae made of sharp edges and glitter is using her like a puppet, forcing her to play. Their magic shines like silver threads as it wraps around her hands.
I’m about to act when Melody speaks.
“Are you happy with this? Because this is all you’ll ever get from me again. Old music, old tales. I’ll give you nothin’ new while I’m trapped here.” Her hands keep moving, but it’s obviously only by rote.
The Fae tilts their head. “I could just kill you.” A string of magic twitches toward her mouth before disappearing once more.
“You could. Why should I care? If I stay, I’m dead no matter what.” I couldn’t be prouder or more scared. This could set her free, or it could get her killed. If this goes wrong, I’ll just have to step in like I’d been planning.
“Aren’t you scared?” The Fae rests fingers like knives around her throat. “You’re in mortal peril. Don’t you want to live?” The only thing keeping her alive is the curiosity of Fair Folk.
“Course I wanna live. But I’m not going to get to if I stay. You’ll make me a caged bird; you already have. This’ll kill me as sure as anythin’ else.” Her eyes stay open and unafraid.
With a hiss, the Fae steps back. “You aren’t willing to bargain for your life then?”
“I’m not willin’ to bargain for my death, but I’ll stay where you can hear me if you send me back unchanged. That’s my bargain and it’s the only one I’ll make.” The Court titters.
Minutes tick by as I hold my breath waiting for the Fae’s response. The Court starts shifting - some impatiently, some uneasily. Then, just as I start to think the deal has been rejected -
“I find these terms acceptable.”
I step out of the shadows to guide her back home.

When we come back, there are whispers. They’re shocked that we came back the same as we left; that we even returned at all. Some speculate that we tricked our way out, others that we were never with the Fair Folk at all. No one thinks that it was sheer stubbornness and determination that saved her, or that we weren’t together wherever we were.
Melody never asks why it took so long for the Gentry to find her in the first place, nor how I knew the path from campus to Court. She knows, and all she says is that if I ever try anything she’ll never speak to me again. I accept her bargain, because what else can I do?
Our days return to normal, except the Fair Folk are all terrified of her now. They address her as The One That Got Away, and when she passes by the lesser Fae bow and the Gentry simply nod. Once she loses her iron rings after a shower. For the entire week it takes to find them again, none of the Fair Folk risk being seen by her.

When I finally ask why she was willing to trap herself at the University when she was so against being trapped at the Court, her response is simple.
“I was already plannin’ on bein’ a professor here.” She grins toothily, “I just made them think they got the better end of the deal while giving up nothing.”
My collection is now in our room so she can be the centerpiece. I don’t want to Take her anymore; she’s already mine.

[x]

anonymous asked:

barlee: retweets hance, my life: saved

who the fuck is barlee

oh hey a voltron storyboard artist!

AHH THEY RETWEETED HANCE! finally…. someone working on this show that isn’t cursed I GOTTA SEE MORE WHAT ELSE DID THEY-

……..anyway i can’t believe hell is empty and all the devils are here

9

Here’s my final for my character design class (2016)! I managed to crank this out in under 2 weeks and I’m pretty happy with it. I was really trying to push shapes and design more in this project and I looked at Okami and Ni No Kuni for reference.

In this thrilling non existent RPG, you play as Grandma Mao (G-Mao) who goes on her first adventure at 87 years old!

A lot my friends are graduating and many are worried about not having a job right out of college. Our animation club (PMC) has brought it in A TON of amazing speakers from all over the industry. They’re all really inspiring and each story is different. I always feel inspired by the ones who got started much later in their life but managed to break in with a lot of hard work. They show that it’s never too late to do what you love (though it might be harder) and I really wanted to capture that with G-Mao.

So what’re you waiting for?
GET OUT THERE!

anonymous asked:

How i told my 87 year old grandpa i was ace (true story and all legit quoting) Grandpa: You got a boyfriend yet?? Me: No, im not interested in that Grandpa: ooooh, girls Me: no Im not interested in anyone, im ace Grandpa: wats thats Me: I dont like anyone Grandpa: Well its about darn time people dont, too many people being brought into this world too much dang plague and not enough space to put them all ! -how my grandpa became the coolest guy i know

I love your grandpa, he seems like a cool dude haha. Thank you for sharing! :D

-Sarah

“ I’m 87 years old…I only eat so I can smoke and stay alive.. The only fear I have is how long consciousness is gonna hang on after my body goes. I just hope there’s nothing. Like there was before I was born. I’m not really into religion, they’re all macrocosms of the ego. When man began to think he was a separate person with a separate soul, it created a violent situation.

The void, the concept of nothingness, is terrifying to most people on the planet. And I get anxiety attacks myself. I know the fear of that void. You have to learn to die before you die. You give up, surrender to the void, to nothingness.

Anybody else you’ve interviewed bring these things up? Hang on, I gotta take this call….. Hey, brother. That’s great, man. Yeah, I’m being interviewed… We’re talking about nothing. I’ve got him well-steeped in nothing right now. He’s stopped asking questions.”

~ HARRY DEAN STANTON

Ok guys, I know that it’s important to talk about Weinstein and what it means but he isn’t the first and he surely won’t be the last because when you have a industry full of men in positions of power, you have abuse. 

I was just reading about actress Tippi Hedre. She recently talked about the Weinstein case and sexual harassment and that’s because she was once a victim too, when she worked with Alfred Hitchcock on the movie “The Birds”. She was constantly abused, verbally abused, called names and she was even forced to record a scene she wasn’t even aware that she was filming. Hitchcock’s reasons? “Because I told you to go.”

“She was then assured that the crew would use mechanical birds. Instead, Hedren endured five solid days of prop men, protected by thick leather gloves, flinging dozens of live gulls, ravens and crows at her (their beaks clamped shut with elastic bands). In a state of exhaustion, when one of the birds gouged her cheek and narrowly missed her eye, Hedren sat down on the set and began crying. A physician ordered a week’s rest. Hitchcock protested, according to Hedren, saying there was nobody but her to film. The doctor’s reply was, “Are you trying to kill her?” She said the week also appeared to be an ordeal for the director.” (From Wikipedia)

She even compared Weinstein to Alfred Hitchcock. She said:

“I’m watching all the coverage on Weinstein,” the 87-year-old said. “This is nothing new, nor is it limited to the entertainment industry.

“I dealt with sexual harassment all the time, during my modeling and film career. Hitchcock wasn’t the first.”  

She continued: “However, I wasn’t going to take it anymore, so I simply walked away and didn’t look back. Hitch said he would ruin my career and I told him to do what he had to do.

“It has taken 50 years, but it is about time that women started standing up for themselves as the appear to be doing in the Weinstein case. Good for them!”

She sure wasn’t the only one. If you guys don’t know about it, Maria Schneider once left the film “The Last Tango In Paris” with PTSD when director Bernardo Bertolucci and Marlon Brando filmed a rape scene without warning her.

“Schneider described the director Bertolucci by the following: “He was fat and sweaty and very manipulative, both of Marlon and myself, and would do certain things to get a reaction from me.” As for her working relationship with Brando, she said that he had a paternal relationship with her on the set. But Brando suggested the acted sodomy scene, and Bertolucci did not reveal this scene to her until just before the filming of it. In 2007 she said:

I should have called my agent or had my lawyer come to the set because you can’t force someone to do something that isn’t in the script, but at the time, I didn’t know that. Marlon said to me: ‘Maria, don’t worry, it’s just a movie,’ but during the scene, even though what Marlon was doing wasn’t real, I was crying real tears. I felt humiliated and to be honest, I felt a little raped, both by Marlon and by Bertolucci. After the scene, Marlon didn’t console me or apologise. Thankfully, there was just one take.”

In 2013 Bertolucci said he had withheld the information from her to generate a real “reaction of frustration and rage”. Brando alleged that Bertolucci had wanted the characters to have real sex, but Brando and Schneider both said it was simulated. Actress Jessica Tovey, writing in The Guardian, argued that Bertolucci’s defense of pursuing an artistic vision was “bogus” and that what occurred was “a violation."”

Disgusting. She began doing drugs including heroin after she did the movie because she was suffering from PTSD. This isn’t a new phenomena, this film was filmed in 1972. It’s not just Weinstein or Michael Bay. I wonder how much more things happened behind-the-scenes that we do not know or will never know because women are never believed in.

Stephen Sondheim, Theater’s Greatest Lyricist

By Lin-Manuel Miranda for T Magazine’s The Greats issue

Sondheim: I hope you don’t mind doing this upstairs, I’m feeling a bit under the weather.

It’s July 2017. We are on the second floor of Stephen Sondheim’s Midtown Manhattan townhouse, and he’s nestled on his writing couch. There’s a famous picture of him reclining in this very spot from 1960: young Sondheim staring intently at a pad of paper, Blackwing pencil at the ready, framed by two windows. His right hand on his face, deep in thought.

Sondheim: The writing’s not going well today.

Nearly 60 years later, Sondheim is on the same couch. He is 87 years old. He’s wearing his rumpled-writer T-shirt and sweatpants, he’s got a sour stomach. He is writing a new musical with David Ives for the Public Theater, an adaptation of two films by the late Spanish director Luis Buñuel, and he’s staring down a deadline. And here I am, interrupting his writing day for this interview.

It’s hard to overemphasize Sondheim’s influence on American musical theater. As a young man, he was mentored by Oscar Hammerstein II of Rodgers and Hammerstein, the songwriting duo who revolutionized musicals with “Oklahoma!” in 1943. Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote fully integrated songs that advanced the plot and revealed hidden depths in their characters; in their hands, musical theater matured into a storytelling art form. Sondheim built on Hammerstein’s innovations by experimenting relentlessly with subject matter and form: from his early lyrics for Leonard Bernstein’s music in the seminal “West Side Story” (1957) and for Jule Styne’s music in “Gypsy” (1959) to more than 50 years’ worth of scores that have pushed the boundaries and subject matter of musical theater in every conceivable direction. He is musical theater’s greatest lyricist, full stop. The days of competition with other musical theater songwriters are done: We now talk about his work the way we talk about Shakespeare or Dickens or Picasso — a master of his form, both invisible within his work and everywhere at once.

Go read. It’s awesome. And don’t miss Lin’s footnotes.

7

Here’s more Hank, feat. @junkieprophet‘s OC Sam (More pics of him coming probably soon) and the Subtle ENB!

Can you tell I only use the Starlight Drive-In to take my screenshots?

cupcakes4747  asked:

Hey I'm just curious, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but how old are you?

Originally posted by descepter

Old enough to know better.   Also old enough to not care.

In an excerpt from The Man Who Could Not Kill Enough, Anne Schwartz writes about the media sensationalism of Jeffrey Dahmer’s case, and one of the people it probably affected the most: Dahmer’s grandmother, Catherine.

By the time the furor died down, the media had left countless wounded in their wake while pursuing the story. Unfortunately, at its peak, the tidal wave of publicity crested on the frail, eighty-seven-year-old Catherine Dahmer. On July 24th, 1991, the day after the discoveries were made in Jeffrey Dahmer’s apartment, Lionel Dahmer tacked up a note on the door of his mother’s West Allis home:

“Please do not ring the doorbell or phone. A Milwaukee reporter woke us up at 7:30am after a very hard night of stress and crank calls. Catherine Dahmer cannot endure more harassment. She is 87 years old, just recovering from pneumonia, and had her car damaged in a recent accident. She really cannot put up with the stress of the media people such as yesterday and this morning.”

True to form, a reporter called and asked her to comment on the note.

anonymous asked:

Murven text post AU where Raven and Roan are dating and Murphy schemes to break them up because HE SAW HER FIRST AND THAT ICE NATION BASTARD HAD NO RIGHT TO ASK HER ON A DATE BEFORE HE DID! 😉

The Island of Misfit Delinquents

10:09 am

Caw Caw Little Birdy: WHO’S GOT TWO THUMBS, A SEXY RED DRESS, AND A HOT DATE WITH ROAN AZGEDA TONIGHT?!?!?!?!?!

Murph-Man: Your mom?

Caw Caw Little Birdy: THIS GIRL

Caw Caw Little Birdy: Dammit Murphy

Caw Caw Little Birdy: You fun-sucking, last-piece-of-pizza snatcher, lotioned foot slipping around in a sock, uncouth garbage human, son of a bitch

Blake 1: You’ve gotten real creative with your insults lately

Blake 2: Rey just shit on your entire life son

Commander Clarke: #loveofmylife

Blake 1: #rude

Caw Caw Little Birdy: ANYWAY

Caw Caw Little Birdy: Roan’s got it all planned out He’s picking me up at seven and we’re going to a fancy dinner and a show. There’s also talk about getting coffee as we leisurely stroll back to my apartment under the light of a thousand brilliant stars, conversing about interesting topics 

Murph-Man: Roan Azgeda: A modern day Jane Austen

Blake 2: Calm yo tits, Mr. Darcy

Commander Clarke: Murphy is SUCH a Darcy

Murphy-Man: Wut

Blake 1: Clarke is Jane Bennet and I’m Mr. Bingley

Blake 2: I’ve always wanted to be a snotty society lady

Blake 2: Count me in as Caroline Bingley 

Murph-Man: I actually hate you all????

Caw Caw Little Birdy: I’M LIZZIE BENNET

Caw Caw Little Birdy: Watch me read all the books and slay men’s hearts with a slightly haughty attitude

Caw Caw Little Birdy: I deserve more than to be married off to a rich man I don’t love to save my father’s estate 

Commander Clakre: ^^^ Same

Blake 2: ^^^ My new Instagram bio 


Blake 1 + Murph-Man

10:40 am

Blake 1: So……

Blake 1: How you doing with all this?

Blake 1: And by this, I mean Raven and Roan

Blake 1: And by Raven and Roan I, of course, mean them dating 

Blake 1: Murphy?

Murph-Man: Sorry I can’t guzzle vodka and text at the same time

Blake 1: It’s not even noon dude

Murph-Man: Then I’ll put the vodka in some orange juice

Murph-Man: Make some toast

Murph-Man: Call it brunch

Murph-Man: Like a middle-aged rich white woman

Blake 1: Buddy…… no


The Island of Misfit Delinquents

12:34 pm

Caw Caw Little Birdy: When you actually care about how this date will go so you shave your legs

Blake 1: Wow, when should we expect to receive the invitations to your wedding?

Murph-Man: Too much work. Just wear sweatpants and call it done

Commander Clarke: Darcy strikes again


Misson imPOSSIBLE 

2:15 pm

Blake 2 added King Azgeda to the group chat

Blake 2: Plan is working perfectly

Blake 2: Or WAS

Commander Clarke: Don’t be passive aggressive to my boyfriend 

Caw Caw Little Birdy: Yeah just be flat out aggressive towards him

Blake 1: Well maybe next time we try and secretly try and set up our friends, yOU GUYS WON’T BASE THE PLAN AROUND ME TRYING TO COMFORT PEOPLE

King Azgeda: Our first mistake

Blake 1: Roan you absolute winter coat made out of Wookie fur

Blake 1: Fight me 

King Azgeda: With pleasure

Blake 2: #TeamRoan

Commander Clarke: (I-think-tf-not-you-trickass-bitch.jpeg)

 Caw Caw Little Birdy: FOCUS YOU BUNCH OF MEME DUNCES 

Caw Caw Little Birdy: We WANT Murphy to come and try to stop the date. Not be drunk off his ass

Blake 1: Before we all start yelling at me again, I DID fix things

Blake 1: Miller is covering Murphy’s shift at the precinct tonight. Jasper and Monty are on their way with coffee and the world’s greasiest burgers to sober Murphy up

Blake 2: Then Bell and I will go over right around the time Roan picks Raven up and trick Murphy into sabotaging the date

King Azgeda: And double check him for weapons before he leaves for said sabotage 

King Azgeda: That’s important 


The Island of Misfit Delinquents

6:43 pm

Caw Caw Little Birdy: I look bomb if I do say so myself

Blake 2: Yeahhhhhhhhhh Rey

Blake 2: Get. Some. ;) 

Commander Clarke: Bow-chicka-bow-wow

Murphy-Man: Bow-chicka-bow-wow?

Murph-Man: My eyes have been sinned upon

Commander Clarke: SEND A PIC OF YOUR DRESS

Caw Caw Little Birdy: (Date-Night.jpeg)

Blake 1: Our little girl is all grown up

Commander Clarke: 21 years of sleepless nights, blood, sweat and tears… All for this moment

Caw Caw Little Birdy: Thanks mom and dad <3

Murph-Man: You look really really pretty Rey 


Mission imPOSSIBLE

8:09 pm

King Azgeda: We should have picked a restaurant that served an actual meal

Caw Caw Little Birdy: What even are these portions

Caw Caw Little Birdy: My name is a bird, but I do NOT eat like one

Blake 2: Murphy has left Casa De La Sadness and is on the move

Blake 2: I repeat, on the MOVE

Blake 1: dfsjghorejgirjgjbfdk 

Blake 1: I FORGOT TO TAKE THE BASEBALL BAT OUT OF HIS CAR

Caw Caw Little Birdy: FAILamy Blake 


Murph-Man + Nathan Miller

8:58

Murph-Man: Hey man what beat are you patrolling tonight?

Nathan Miller: The usual 

Murph-Man: That’s good

Nathan Miller: These vague texts aren’t tho

Murph-Man: If you want to pass a polygraph, you drive really slow to the Dropship Theater and you do NOT look closely at the face of the man with the baseball bat when that call comes out

Nathan Miller: WTF 


Mission imPOSSIBLE

9:24 pm

Commander Clarke: I’m stationed at the coffee shop across from the theater

Commander Clarke: Also, this coffee tastes like piss so it’s a good thing this whole date is fake because if I were Raven and Roan bought me coffee from this place?

Commander Clarke: I’d dump it all over that nice-ass suit and there would be NO second date

King Azgeda: wow ok

Blake 1: I’m in love?????

Blake 2: Murphy’s on the move

Blake 2: And by move, I mean he iS HAULING ASS WITH A BASEBALL BAT SHHHHIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTT

Blake 1: I’m stuck in traffic what’s happening !!!!!!!!!?

Commander Clarke: Roan looks like a gallant European prince 

Commander Clarke: Murphy looks like a disheveled…. Well just like straight up disheveled in a big old grandpa sweater and dark jeans

Blake 2: Roan snatched that bat from Murphy right quick

Blake 1: Catch them hands too lmao

Blake 2: You right lols

Commander Clarke: We’re like all sitting together watching this right now? And we’re texting each other?

King Azgeda: Raven dragged Murphy back around to the parking lot so they could scream at each other in private. And make out

King Azgeda: (my-longest-yeah-boi-ever.jpeg)

Blake 2: You’ve done well young grasshopper 

Blake 1: Yeah come across the street and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee as a thank you 

King Azgeda: The same coffee your girlfriend said tasted like piss?

Blake 1: That’d be the one


The Island of Misfit Delinquetns 

11:02 pm

Caw Caw Little Birdy: (We-Cute-AND-an-Offical-Couple.jpeg)

Blake 1: Murphy flipping the camera off as you guys kiss is everything I expected your relationship to be 

Blake 2: AWWWWWWW!!!!! TOGETHER AT LAST

Blake 2: My skin is clear, my bank account is full, an angel delicately plays the harp in the background 

Commander Clarke: YOU GUYS CAN DOUBLE DATE WITH ME AND BELL

Murph-Man: Pass

Blake 1: Pass

Caw Caw Little Birdy: Sometimes I’m jealous over how in sync you guys are

Blake 2: *added King Azgeda to Island of Misfit Delinquents*

King Azgeda: Happy for you guys!

Murph-Man: I could have done without the emotional trauma tho tbh

Murph-Man: I’m only 178 pounds of delicate pale skin and sarcasm

Murph-Man: I’m fragile

Caw Caw Little Birdy: It was the only way

Blake 2: We knew your anger would win over your pride

King Azgeda: Why confess your feelings when you can try and beat the fake boyfriend with a baseball bat and hope your point gets across as you shatter the competitions knees?

Blake 2: I would have intervened before he shattered your knees

King Azgeda: Thanks babe <3

Blake 2: NVWIPVNHPIVHFVNFUGFNROKAETR

Commander Clarke: YOOOOOOOOOOOO 

Caw Caw Little Birdy: I KNEW WE FORGOT SOMETHING

Caw Caw Little Birdy: It was supposed to go- Go on Fake date, Murphy confesses his feelings (finally) and Octavia somehow breaks the news to her brother that she’s daTING ROAN

Blake 2: I was going to buy him a history book and get him about three glasses of fancy wine deep before I told him

Blake 2: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

King Azgeda: …….. well this is awkward

Blake 1: YOU OVERGROWN SCRUFFY LOOKIN, FUR COAT WEARING, WANNABE WARRIOR PRINCE OF SOME APOCALYPTIC UNIVERSE 

Blake 1: I WILL FUCK YOU UP

Commander Clarke: Guys you gotta break stuff to him gently he has the heart of an 87-year-old man

Caw Caw Little Birdy: He’s gonna go BOOM

Blake 1: DON’T TOUCH MY SISTER

Murph-Man: I’d actually like to retract my earlier statement about double dates and propose a TRIPPLE date instead 

Murph-Man: I think that would be good for our friend group 

Mischief Managed - harvey x mike

inspired by this post, and my reblogged tags

Five minutes, and he’s already lost the damn dog.

His neighbor had warned him that Buster was a wanderer, but Harvey hadn’t exactly taken it to heart because, firstly: his neighbor is 87 years old and known to forget things, so it’s very possible that she’d actually wandered off from Buster and not the other way around, and secondly: Harvey isn’t incompetent. He can keep an eye on a dog for an hour or so.

Except it turns out she was totally right. All it took was the leash being unclipped and Harvey looking down for a half a second to bundle the leash and Buster was gone.

Which means Harvey is screwed, because this dog is the love of Betty’s life.

He turns a slow 360, eyes tracking every dog in his sight line in the hope that one of them will answer to the name Buster, but he’s out of luck, and Buster is nowhere in sight. So he takes a path and starts jogging down it, calling out Buster’s name, asking people he passes if they’ve seen a golden retriever run by this way.

New Yorkers are not helpful people.

He’s been running around the park for 30 minutes and he’s just about to lose hope when he turns a corner and spies a dog that looks suspiciously like Buster sitting in front of a man seated on a park bench, watching the man happily as the man reads to him.

Harvey isn’t close enough to hear the man speak so he moves closer, stops when he’s still a fair distance away. Buster’s mouth is open in a grin and a light pant, and when the man pauses speaking, Buster nudges his hand with his nose.

He laughs, reaches forward and scratches Buster as he says, “Okay, I get it…don’t stop.”

When he starts to read again, Harvey almost does a double take. Harry Potter?

It’s a well-loved, paperback copy, creased and bent. And when he speaks he gets into it, leaning forward toward Buster.

“The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn’t sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger.”

Buster whimpers and the man stops, looks up, reaches forward and pets him.

“I know. But Hagrid’s coming soon. You’ll like him.”

Harvey smiles to himself, walks over. “I think you have my dog.”

The man looks up, taken aback. He looks down at his book briefly and starts to blush, the color rising in his cheeks. “Sorry…he just…uh…walked up and sat there. And then he nudged the book so I thought he might like it if I read to him.”

Harvey shouldn’t feel so charmed, but the guy is reading his book in the middle of Central Park to a damn lost dog.

“Harry Potter?”

The man points the book at him. “Hey, Harry Potter is a new classic, appropriate for all ages and…species.”

“If you say so.”

“Your dog agrees with me.”

“It’s not actually my dog, which explains its suspect taste level.”

The man looks at him strangely, as if Harvey is some deviant with a leash who wanders the park, claiming random, misplaced dogs just to strike up conversation.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s my neighbor’s dog.”

“And you’re walking her dog as a favor in the hopes of getting in her pants?”

“No, she’s too old for me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Harvey nods. “She turned eighty-seven last month.”

A slow smile is beginning to grow on his face. “And that doesn’t do it for you?”

“Well, she’s pretty spry so I might’ve gone for it, but she’s always calling me Morty, and really…I deserve better than to live in her dead husband’s shadow.”

The man barks out a laugh and throws his head back and Harvey grins.

“I’m Harvey, by the way.”

“Mike.”

Buster leans forward and nudges the book in Mike’s hand. Mike looks down and pets his head but stands, looks at his watch. “Sorry, buddy. I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”

It’s clear he’s not just talking to Buster when Harvey detects the regret seeping into his voice, the sudden downturn of his mouth.

“You’re really going to do that to poor Buster just when Hagrid was about to show up? You’ve got him interested now.”

Mike smiles, slow and wide, and looks away for a moment before he says, “Well…maybe Buster and I should make a date to meet up again. Is he free next Saturday? Same time?”

“I’ll check his calendar.”

Mike nods. “You do that.”

He walks away, down the path, looking over his shoulder once with a smile and shake of his head before he disappears around the bend. Harvey reaches down and clips the leash onto Buster’s collar and says, “Well done little Weasley.”

+

Betty gives him a bit of a hard time when he asks to walk Buster again the next Saturday, but it’s worth it when they come around the bend in the path and see Mike sitting there on the bench, waiting for them, two cups of coffee sitting on the bench next to him, the book curled in half between his hands. Harvey lets Buster off his leash and Mike looks up and stands when the dog comes bounding toward him, a smile splitting his face. Harvey walks slowly forward, returns Mike’s smile with one of his own.

“So Buster had room in his schedule after all.”

“We squeezed you in.”

They share a grin, hands reaching down blindly to pet Buster when he noses at their hands for attention.

“Besides…he was dying to know what comes next. And I didn’t want to disappoint him. What comes next, Mike?”

Mike bites his lip, looks down at the book in his hands then back up at Harvey.

“Magic.”