87 years old

  • Wikipedia about Aragorn: Tolkien gives a brief but detailed description of Strider in The Fellowship of the Ring: lean, dark and tall, with shaggy dark hair "flecked with grey", grey eyes, and a stern pale face. It is also stated that he was the tallest of the Company. Some time after the publication of the books, Tolkien wrote that he was at least 6 ft 6 in (198 cm) tall. Although he was 87 years old at the time of the War of the Ring, this was the prime of life for a Dunadan of royal blood, and Tolkien wrote that to those unaware of his lineage "in character Aragorn was a hardened man of say 45". In "The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen", found in the Appendices, he was described as often grim and sad, with unexpected moments of levity
  • Me: Well...This is basically Jon Snow in his 40's, if you ignore that Kit Harington could have been cast as one of Thorin's dwarfs.

Anne Frank could be a 87-year-old woman living in Boston today. But was denied a US visa.

“As President Trump prepares orders to wall out Mexicans and shut out refugees from America, today marks one of the most hateful days in our nation’s history… Today the Statue of Liberty weeps over President Trump’s discrimination. President Trump is beyond the wrong side of history. He is driving our nation off a moral cliff. When President Trump uses national security as a guise for racism, he doesn’t strengthen our national security. He compromises our national security by engendering disrespect for America by people around the world. Make no mistake, suspending visas for citizens of Middle Eastern and African countries is not called national security. It’s called prejudice.

President Trump is now exacerbating the largest global refugee crisis in history. His slamming America’s doors on the starving, the wounded and the abused is a grotesque blot on our nation’s history of freedom. The President’s actions are an embarrassment to the timeless vision of America as inscribed by Emma Lazarus to “give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Demonizing refugees and immigrants, and spending billions of taxpayer dollars to keep them out of our nation, will go down in American history as one of the most tragic deviations from our national conscience.”

- Statement of Steven Goldstein, Executive Director of the Anne Frank Center for Mutual Respect

2

87-year-old visits slave cabin she was born in, now at African-American History Museum

  • On Tuesday, Isabell Meggett Lucas, 87, visited the home where she was born in Edisto Island, South Carolina. Except she had to go visit it in Washington, D.C. That’s because Lucas’s childhood home was a slave cabin on display at the African-American History Museum. 
  • According to local television station WRC, the Edisto Island slave cabin is the only one remaining of 10 such cabins that were built on a patch of land owned by Charles Bailey, who became wealthy through slavery.  
  • Lucas told WRC that, though she was born there, she did not know it was a slave cabin when she was growing up. Read more. (4/13/2017 11:30 AM)

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

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:

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

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.

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?

Lajos Erdelyi, de 87 años, posa con un dibujo hecho por un compañero del campo de exterminio en Budapest el 13 de enero de 2015. Erdelyi fue enviado a Auschwitz-Birkenau en mayo de 1944 y más tarde fue trasladado a otro campo. Cuando fue liberado pesaba menos de 30kg, trató de llegar a su casa caminando, pero se desplomó y fue llevado a un hospital por un agricultor.

Lajos Erdelyi, 87, holds a drawing made by a campmate. Erdelyi was sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau in May 1944 and was later moved to another camp. When he was freed he weighed under 30kg, but tried to walk home. He collapsed, and was taken to a hospital by a farmer.

elizabethan-ho  asked:

An 87 year old woman said something very politically incorrect and instead of saying "that's mean" or "you can't say that" or something else that I probably would have sad under other circumstances, I said, "Mrs. Wellson, that is a very rude thing to say" and she apologized and asked what she should say instead. I was shocked at how well she responded; she has not responded well to this type of correction in the past. She hates PC culture, but because I framed it this way, she was more accepting

That’s really cool. It’s a great reminder to us all that thinking a little more about how we phrase something or how we approach people can make all the difference.

Thank you for sharing!

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 

anonymous asked:

My 87 year old grandma laughed so hard she got a migraine because of the FAQ question. You've done good, Tim

C:\Users\Tim\My Documents\Resume.doc

Edit: 

Skills
-Supports the elderly through sheer charisma

Save changes

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.”

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!

Imma tell you somethings about Harry:

Okay so it’s the new year and I’m drunk off me arse so I have the non-filterness to tell you some things about your boi Harold:
1. He’s 100% everything you think he is. Wildly awkward but you don’t care cos he’s Harry. This is equally annoying as it is endearing. His eye contact is out of control. You will feel like you are the center of the universe when talking to him. Don’t worry, this happens to everyone. Boy, girl, man, woman, plant, muppet, aluminium, banana… literally nothing is safe.
2. He’s got the humour of your grandad. Honestly. You think it’s cute? IT’S NAHT because he means it.
Which, FINE, can be endearing in its own weird way…but also, HARRY! LISSEN: you were born like two minutes ago… why you got the humour of an 87 year-old-man?
3. He loves attention. He humble AF cos the universe constantly humbling him, but also he loves this platform. He loves that you care. He loves that he makes a difference. And that truly is beautiful, Harry, cos lord knows he got what he always wanted and is doing good with it. He’s living his dream, He living his truth. And you feel compelled to live yours in his presence. And that’s respectable.
4. He smol. He tol, but also he smol. But you know it makes sense. And you hate him for being better and worse than you imagined and love him for being weirder than you gave him credit for.

The End. Happy New Year errbody. May 2017 be better for all of us, and may Harry’s summertime and butterflies all belonging to our creation be lit AF. 🙌🏼

2

I can hardly believe it.

The man on the right is Bob Singer, who was the head of character design for Scooby-Doo, and also did numerous storyboards for the show. He’s 87 years old, still drawing, and is the long-time mentor of a wonderful illustrator (and SDM fan) Marilyn, on the left.

She showed him our post about the Klondike sign (which approaches 100k notes), and he told her all about the production of the show. How he drew 13 spreads a day even while managing character design, how amazingly fast Hannah-Barbera worked to make the show happen… and how, naturally, everyone didn’t always end up with their prop sheets due to time constraints.

And then, he drew the absolute most-amazing sketch of Shaggy for me.

This blog would not exist without Bob – and without Marilyn, he would never have known about its success. Never know about the ever-growing thousands that still love the show he worked so hard to bring into existence, 47 years ago.

We pick on Scooby-Doo a lot here – heck, the title is ScoobyDooMistakes, after all. At the end of the day, though, we’re all here because we love the timeless charm of the show… and that includes the funny faces and little errors that were accidentally made. In fact, we love the show all the more because of them.

So, a thank-you to Marilyn, with a lovely art blog that everyone needs to see, a thank-you to all you viewers, with a love for Scooby that’s lasted since 1969… and most importantly, a thank-you to Bob, who shaped far more childhoods than most men ever dream of doing. I, myself, am but one of many that you made smile.

Your pal,

–Colin