i made this is an hour

4

FUNNY STORY so I made a valentine for a friend a while ago and said friend posted it on twitter and tagged Cam, without telling me. he found it and RTed it and not even half an hour later I get a message from him and his fiancée telling me how much they love my art, and would I do a piece for them? you bet your ass I said yes - Gasson Hall at Boston College, acrylic on canvas, 12hrs total work time. they arranged to have me come down after the game at Verizon yesterday so I could give it to him. I was nervous as hell and this man who is clearly older sees me and smiles and says “oh! you must be scout! hi there, I’m Mr. Atkinson, Cam’s dad! nat [fiancée] told me you’d be here!” and he just picks up a conversation with me like it’s nothing. luckily my mom knows more New England lore than I do. Cam comes up and looks for us and the first thing he does is grin and go “hi!!” and then apologize for not being able to grab me a stick from the game before they packed them up. we talk for a while about college and the pride tape thing and the scooter gang and he’s just marveling at the painting the entire time, I was about ready to die, ok. i mentioned I didn’t own an NHL jersey yet and he’s like UM we need to fix that send us your address! it was so cute. he made sure to give me a hug and was like “we need to get a picture together!” and WOW I was exceptionally anxious but Cam Atkinson is the sweetest human being and everything worked out and now my art is going on the wall of their house!!! WHAAAAAAAAAAT

They say not to bring home girls with hollow backs, boys with wings under their skin. But this is neither of our homes, and somehow I think that protects us both. On his land, I don’t think he would dare to touch me.  When the night began to grey I heard the first peals of the bell and then the cawing of the crows. I curled my face in to his shoulder and breathed him in, almost surprised at how solid and present he still was. Wood smoke pine maple sweat sweet sky wine and something animal and alive. He didn’t smell like he’d be gone in a few hours, but fairy gold never does for all that it’s made in their image. Though perhaps made in mine too, being gone just as soon, and his sort always did love shiny things. For a moment, his face winks out in to the darkness, but when I look back up from his shoulder it is there again, gently blowing smoke in his sleep.  With the next ringing the crows again threatened to drag the sky in to daylight but darkness still held our corner of the room. Light enough though that for a moment I was scared to turn around, that though I could newly see, I would not find him laying against my back where I’d remembered him, or that he would be wearing a different skin. A deep inhale behind me, an exhale through the nose that blows cool air between my shoulder blades, where he had asked me to press against on his own back a few hours before (“a thumb, or your chin”), a curious feeling of wings under skin when I did so. I had rested my face there, wrapped my arm around and nearly scorched my fingers when they rested above his heart. I find myself surprised at the lack of fire on his breath now, though his chest still heats the bed on its own. When I wake in a few hours the muscles between my own shoulder blades will be unusually tight, but for now I let the steady puffs of air pull me back to sleep. I do not turn to look.  He was up before the third chime, and suddenly – no more space between us, no careful blanket distance or borderlands. He wrapped around me less like a man than a large cat, a dragon curled round its hoard. There was the sense beyond what I could touch, of too much body and too many limbs, collapsing in to materialization upon contact, a flock a birds landing on me relentlessly one after another, shockingly heavy in their multitude. And then as quick, untangled and up, putting on boots heavier than they should need to be and gathering bits of himself from around the room.  As he opened the front door, I heard the ring of the third bells, but now, no crows cawing. They wait. When the door closed behind him, a sunbeam filled the space he left, illuminating the yellow stairs with his afterimage, the radiance of transformation. From outside, I heard something like a purr, footsteps rumbling and rolling, and a great rustling, as though a tree had unfurled all its leaves at once with the snap of a lady’s fan, as though they had browned and dropped crackling against each other in the next breath, as though a great many wings were headed skyward and south, away from the still-warm bed and me in it. They say not to go home with girls with hollow backs, boys with wings under their skin. I wonder if a kiss can be somewhat like a bite of food, a taste of something irrevocable, a contract signed on contact. I wouldn’t know. We don’t kiss. Just hold each other or more often a careful space between. We chart a different elsewhere in this no mans land between bodies. Although somewhere the sap boils in to syrup and perhaps there will come a time when the crows demand their gold paid in truths…here, now, this, is enough.  With the third set of bells he was gone, and a little later so too was I.  

[x]

i have recently come into possession of a barnes & noble gift card

rec me the last book that made your heart go boom, regardless of what you think the actual quality of the book was. just boom factor. that’s all i’m looking for. 

Little Houdini~

Caught up on some cartoons today, but I got tired of scouring Netflix after a few hours and looked around on Vudu for anything I hadn’t seen yet, and I came across an adorable little 2D animated french film titled Houdini~

Here’s a summary to give a general idea of what it’s about:
“New York, 1886. Harry, a ten-year-old boy, dreams of becoming a magician since his early childhood. But learning magic requires a lot of sacrifice and work. Will he be able to become the greatest magician of all time?”

The story wasn’t what caught my eye, but the animation style. It made me think of what I typically see in webcomics. It’s a simpler style, but they made it really work! Check this out:

As you can see, it’s adorable. The backgrounds are wonderfully painted, though, and I was very impressed with this show! The voice cast was great, and even the English dub was decent (which is difficult to find, let me tell you). 

I found a quick trailer on YouTube, too, so check this out, as well:

I just really want people to check this out. I guarantee this couldn’t have had the biggest budget, but they did an absolutely lovely job! Am I right or am I right?

Here’s some more awesome character sheets, just for the heck of it:

All good stuff. Please, do yourself a favor and go watch it! (FYI, it’s available to stream for FREE on Vudu (with ads! But it’s still free!!)

Faking It (G.E) Part 10/10

Summary: Your bestfriend Grayson is attending a relative’s wedding and he needs you to act as his girlfriend. Cue lots of pining from both your sides, smug looks from Ethan and their family pressuring you into marriage and babies.
Word Count: 2,457
Warnings: None.
A/N: We have reached the end my lovely friends. I wanna thank you all for supporting me through my first mini series and making it a memorable one. I’ve had so much fun writing this and I hope you liked this series! Let me know what you thought! x


The Dolan cabin was chaotic the next morning. Every person in the cottage was running around like they had caught themselves on fire, as they tried to balance eating breakfast, fighting over who gets to take a shower first and getting dressed. The bride, groom, best men and the brides maids had all made their way to the church hours ago, but you were still a lot of people in the house and it was hilarious to watch how everyone ran around.

You had woken up early to avoid the line to the bathroom and taken a shower, taking your time to wash your hair and body before jumping into some sweats. Right now you were sitting on the kitchen counter beside Cameron, she was eating her cereal while you were nibbling on your granola bar, hair still wrapped up in a towel, legs dangling back and forth.

“Is it weird that I’m actually gonna miss this cabin?” You asked, looking around, feeling weirdly nostalgic. Even though you’d had your fair share of painful memories, the good memories overrode them by far.

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anonymous asked:

I work nights at a hotel, and I love it because it means means I deal with very few guests. Sometimes people come talk to me at 4 am and that's fine, they can't sleep or whatever, but this one asshole who stays with us once a week will check in at 2 and stay in the lobby until breakfast starts. I've made it very clear I don't follow sports, I have paperwork to do, but every week like clockwork I get forced into a 4-hour conversation about football and his racist uncle opinions on immigration.

youtube

This fanvid is utterly PERFECT.

I love it when they’re storydriven, like also this other one:

Be sure to say thanks to the authors.

Also, i made a collection of all the jarchie fanvids i could find on youtube. it counts 165 vids at the moment. Be sure to check it out for hours of jarchie

What makes me afraid for Season 4...

…is that Thrawn knows Heras tendency to sacrifice and her weak point. Confronting her he stated that they would “kill the Jedi first” if she didn’t surrender.
The episode made it, again, very evident that Hera and Kanan care deeply for each other.
I’m fearing that in the upcoming season Kanan may find his end sacrificing himself to protect Hera.

Oh

so @saavikam77 made this post and naturally i went, “angst?? angst!!” so here have some maybe implied atomwave ??? (didn’t really have that in mind but if u squint……..)

[…]

Ray walks past Mick’s room at least four times within the hour. He means to go in, no one else will. He doesn’t blame them. Mick betrayed them, turned the spear right over, and joined The Legion of Doom. Ray won’t blame it all on Mick though. He’s not going to pretend he and the others didn’t give Mick the respect he deserved. Trust, at least. He was a part of the team, had their backs. He fought along side with the rest of them. The least they could do was stop treating him like he was still that criminal that hopped on the Waverider all that time ago. Because he was so much more than that.

Ray finally works up the nerve and goes inside. He tells Gideon to turn on the lights and, as he looks around, the emptiness overwhelms him slightly. There’s a set of weights in the corner, shelves with all kinds of thing on them, things Mick most likely stole (and, okay, so Mick still takes the occasional piece of priceless art or jewelry. Ray is not gonna chastise him for it). His bed is made, and there’s a small pile of books on the floor next to it. Ray walks over, intending to look through the pile, but he nearly trips over something.

It’s a cage.

A cage with a rat in it.

The rat.

Ray picks it up and the rat perks up, wiggling its nose up at him.

“Hey, little fella,” Ray says, “remember me? You tried to eat me.”

The rat continues to sniff at Ray and he smiles.

“Yeah, I guess I was a lot smaller then.” Ray sits on the bed and places the cage next to him.

Ray looks around the room. It’s packed with all kinds of stuff, but it feels so empty. Lonely. He looks down at the small animal.

“You know, it was very irresponsible for Mick to just leave you here,” Ray says, voice cracking towards the end.

Ray shuts his eyes, feeling heat behind his lids. He scrubs his hands over his face, and sucks in a deep breath. It’s shaky and Ray almost chokes on the small sob that follows. He’s not going to do this, not here, not in this room. Mick would roast him he caught him crying in his room.

Ray turns his attention back to the rat.

“How would you like to stay in my room with me?” Ray asks the rodent. “I mean, as usual I have to be the responsible one,” he snorts and stands from the bed, picks up the cage and looks at the rat.

“Just until Mick gets back, okay?” Ray says, and his chest feels tight. Yeah, just until Mick comes back.

Ray steps out of the room, cage in hand, telling Gideon to kill the lights. He looks back for a second, then slides the door shut, and walks away.

Broken Utopia pt1

Note: this takes place in a “Utopian” world that is (mostly) under one government. Space travel is a thing, but other technology was set back somewhat after a war. The Rebels have taken over a sizable portion of the world, and are trying to gain more. Once a criminal, you think you’ve outrun your past and made a new life for yourself–a good one, at that. But it comes back to haunt you at the worst of times, and you end up running for your life and back to things (and people) you thought you abandoned years ago. 

Jackson x Reader

Rating: Mature, for violence and such 

Warnings: Will have death, destruction, probably some gory stuff. Will probably be much more violent than what I usually write.


Papers littered the floor in the living room, your original plan of setting up work just on the coffee table tossed out the window hours ago. Developing a fail-safe security plan was a job all in of itself—finding its flaws, and figuring out a way in was a whole other ball game. You had done both in the past, but currently you just trying to find a hypothetical way in—you would send in a team next week to test it.

Your job was relatively simple—a company came to you to make sure that their information was safe, and you would give them the answers they wanted. You would hack their security system, jam their cellphone and alarm frequencies, march in through the front door and plant a tag on all the computers that proved you were there. Of course, it didn’t always go so smoothly—what would be the fun in that? After your job was done, you would bring a report back detailing the flaws in the security system back to the original company.

But while at times you got jobs that were interesting, this particular one was not the case. There were endless files to sort through, piles upon piles of information that you didn’t need. It was mind boggling that they didn’t have it all on electronic files, these days it was practically mandatory.

The door to the penthouse chimed, and you heard small footsteps hurrying over to you.

“Hey, Milo.” You said, smiling for the first time in hours, shifting in your place on the floor to face the eighteen month old as he toddled over to you.

“Look!” He said excitedly, holding out an ice-cream cone for you to see, and nearly shoving it up your nose in the process. He hadn’t quite gotten the hang of hand-eye coordination yet, but you didn’t mind—he made up for it in cuteness.

“You got ice cream?” You said, acting scandalized. He nodded happily, biting the top of it as it dripped onto the papers on the floor.

Jackson was right behind Milo, scooping him up in his arms and kissing his cheek. “That was our secret, remember when I said it was?” Milo just laughed, wiping one of his sticky hands on Jackson’s shirt. You stood, stepping carefully over the paper on the floor and over to where your boyfriend of four years stood holding his nephew.

“Sorry about that.” Jackson said, pointing with his foot at where the ice cream had dripped, the ink smudging and running.

You shook your head, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Don’t be, it’s all garbage anyway.”

“Bad day?” He guessed by your tone.

“Better now.” You replied, giving him a small smile. Jackson was more than just a “boyfriend,” but you were never sure what else to call him. You weren’t married, weren’t even engaged, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him. At one point, you had talked about getting married, having a big ceremony (his idea) and making a bid deal out of it. That had been about a year ago. 

Then his sister died in an accident after the self-driving taxi she was in malfunctioned. After that, his brother-in-law had a mental breakdown, and the two of you found yourselves adopting their son, Milo—well, Jackson did. You were still working on becoming one of Milos’s legal guardians. After that, marriage was the last thing on either of your minds.

“Oh.” Milo had spotted one of his toys sitting on the couch, and he leaned sideways in Jacksons arms in an attempt to reach it with is free hand, his small fingers wiggling. As he did so, his ever-melting ice cream collided with the side of Jackson’s face. “Give it.”

You picked the stuffed bear up, examining it before handing it to Milo. “I’ll never understand why you like this one the best.” You said to him as he took the toy happily, clutching it to his chest. “You have a million other toys that were twice as expensive.”

“Maybe it’s because it’s simple.” Jackson suggested. He had somehow taken the ice cream from Milo without his noticing, and licked it happily. A year ago, you would have pointed out that Milo had probably spit on it as much as eaten it, and there was no telling what other things that kid had tried to eat that day (no matter how much you watched him or baby-proofed the apartment) so who knows how many germs there were on it. But now? You would do the same as Jackson in his place.

“You’ve uh, got something on your face.” You pointed out. His entire right cheek was covered in sticky goop.

“I’m just glad it’s only ice cream.” Jackson said seriously, carrying Milo over to the kitchen. As he did so, Milo realized that one of his hands was empty.

“Mine!” He whaled, flailing for Jackson’s hand, looking thoroughly offended.

“I paid for it.” Jackson pouted, handing it back none the less. “Are you okay with pizza for dinner?” He asked you, picking up a hand towel and dampening it before wiping off the side of his face.

Both of your phones started buzzing before you could answer, the tv turning itself on and switching to the news. Emergency alerts had come a long way since the time of storm sirens.

“It’s just the border again.” Jackson shrugged, adjusting Milo on his hip. “I wish they would let us turn the volume down at least, it isn’t stuff a kid should hear…” His voice trailed off as he registered what the news casters were saying. It wasn’t the border, not this time. Drones had gotten past it, and were moving fast.

“At this time, we are advising that people stay in their homes. If you are not somewhere secure, follow safety protocols and calmly make your way into a covered space…”

“Shit.” Jackson whispered, even Milo had gotten quiet (which was a very rare thing, the only person who talked more than him was Jackson).

“This would never have happened if frequency jammers weren’t illegal.” You muttered. The government could be quite stubborn when it wanted to be, and now you were all going to suffer for it. “How long have I been saying they should be along the border?

“Can’t they… I don’t know, make some?” Jackson said, and you shook your head.

“Not in time. They’ll be in the city in a matter of hours, maybe less.”

“We’ll be fine though, right?” Jackson said, and you weren’t sure why he thought you would know any better than him. “The rebels don’t want to kill us, just… Take the land.”

“Right.” You agreed, not as sure as you probably sounded. “As long as we don’t do anything to anger them, we’ll be fine. It won’t last long, anyway. The government will step in, drive them back. Just to be on the safe side, we should stay at the bunker tonight.” A penthouse wasn’t exactly the safest place to be while under attack. 

The bunkers were (supposedly) a safe area for civilians, much like the bomb shelters that were around so long ago. They were also “No hit zones,” where, according to the semi-treaty that had been signed twenty years ago, civilians would be safe. The rebels had their own safe zones, where their civilians hid during attacks, and it all survived on faith that the other side would abide by the rules.

“I’ll pack Milo an overnight bag,” Jackson said, setting Milo down so he could move faster.

As if on cue, the moment he was out of the room your phone buzzed again. You glanced at it, about to ignore it when you saw who was calling.

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TalesFromTheFrontDesk: I'm not crying you're crying

Hey TFTFD. Most of my tales here are that of annoyance and bothersome guests but today I have a nice story to share with you all.

About an hour ago I got a call from a gentleman who had a question about getting charged. He had made a reservation for April 4th through Expedia and was told that he would not be charged until he arrived, but his bank was showing a charge (not an authorization, I checked) from our actual hotel name, not Expedia, and we had his personal card on file for the reservation instead of an Expedia virtual card.

Just for a little context, we have two types of already paid for reservations: 1) suppressed rates that come from third party reservation websites where the guest pays them and the third party sends us a virtual card, and 2) pre-paid reservations that aren’t suppressed, usually booked from our brand website so that we receive payment directly from the guest. Somehow, even though he used Expedia, the reservation came through as pre-paid like it was from our brand website.

Our general rule of thumb is that we can’t cancel third party reservations to give a guest a refund, the third party has to do it. So I tell the stressed-out sounding guy on the phone to give Expedia a call and if they can’t figure out to call us back. A little exasperated and not satisfied, he said he would do that and hung up.

I was confused as to why the reservation came through as pre-paid instead of suppressed so I called my boss and asked him if sending the guest to Expedia was the right thing to do. At first he said yes, but then he got confused and had me give him some information on the reservation, and he realized that somehow the third party came through as a brand-prepaid, and that he would have to be the one to refund the guest, not me since I don’t have administrative permission, and not Expedia since they aren’t the ones who took the payment. So he told me that the guy would probably call back, and just to tell him that my boss would take care of his reservation and refund in the morning.

About 5 minutes after talking to my boss, the guy calls back. Says Expedia couldn’t help him, which I was anticipating. He sounded like he was getting more and more stressed out. (M) for me and (G) for guy.

M: I’m so sorry sir, it looks like there was a system error and we were actually the ones to charge your card. I apologize for the inconvenience! I passed along your reservation information to my boss, and he said that as soon as he gets here tomorrow he’ll take care of everything.

G: sighs heavily Oh, thank you so much! You don’t know how much that means to me, a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. You see, the reason we’re staying with you is because my daughter is having surgery at [nearby very well-known children’s hospital]. She is legally blind and they’re doing surgery on her to give her permanent contact lenses that will allow her to see again. They changed the dates of the surgery, and I wouldn’t have been able to afford paying for that room if we weren’t staying in it.

M: tearing up That’s amazing, sir, I’m so happy for your daughter and your family! I’m so sorry again for the inconvenience, but like I said, my boss will take care of everything for you.

G: Thank you so, so much. I appreciate you being so accommodating and I’d just like to let you know that as soon as we figure out the dates for her surgery, I’ll call you guys directly to make a reservation.

M: That’s great to hear! Please give us a call when you find out and we’ll help you out as much as possible!!

G: That’s awesome. Thank you so much again, have a great night.

So now I’m sitting here, typing this out with tears still lingering in my eyes. When I was a young child I also had to have eye surgery to correct my partial blindness at the same hospital the man’s daughter is going to. It absolutely fills my heart with joy that another little girl will get to see better thanks to that amazing hospital and that I get to help out a tiny bit by doing everything I can to make sure they have a nice, comfortable stay (and you can guarantee I’m gonna tell my boss to give him a discount).

It’s little things like this that make me adore my job. <3

By: arnber420

Tbh Zero Hour was like fanfic

Delicious tropey fanfic with bucketloads of stuff-put-there-for-angst-and-epicness (mostly courtesy of Thrawn)

The only thing that would have made it MORE tropey was if Thrawn moved Kallus forward during his holocomm call to the base just so the Ghost crew could see their Fulcrum beaten

SPOILERS FOR ZERO HOUR

- I have had like three bloody heart attacks.
Jeez
That was intense for me.
- Thrawn is my heart and my soul, god, I’m so glad he made it. I was like 99% sure he was going to be beaten on the ground. Thank you, Mr. Filoni, for my belief in you was strong and it was not shattered.
- That Thrawn Theme moment during the bombardement oh hell it was awesome.
- Kallus looks great beaten up.
- WHERE’S MY KALLUZEB??
- “I see your defeat. Like many arms surrounding you in a cold embrace”.
Nope, I didn’t like that. Not a single moment. Though he might have meant Endor, though I doubt it due to the “you” and “embrace” going together. Not gonna dwell on it yet. Maybe later. I’ve had enough fear for today.
- Thrawn ordering to shoot the storm made me pause and freak out like WHY DID YOU ORDER THAT YOU IDIOT HE’S GONNA KILL YOU. And then it, like, worked. And that’s why we all are not Thrawn. We would have run. I definitely would have run.
- The confrontation all went down to Thrawn vs Bendu lol
- Thrawn’s alive and I heavily doubt he’ll appear in the 4th Season, so this makes place for another book or two by Zahn’s hand and for Thrawn to appear in Episode 8/9.
I’m waiting for April.
- All in all, these episodes were great. Tomorrow I’m gonna drink to Thrawn’s honor.

anonymous asked:

Hi guys. This isn't really important... but I recently made a drawing. I was really happy with it and I really liked it but for some reason the file deleted. Now I'm really sad and I'm crying. I don't know why. I feel really sad. I have a picture of the drawing but I'm still really sad.

That’s a reasonable reason to feel really sad. Losing the master file to a work is awful. It’s hours and hours of work and having a picture of it, even a high res one, just isn’t the same. You can’t use it in the same way as master files. If you have the cash, you could pay someone to fish for it. Deleted files are rarely actually deleted and some people can help you rescue it.

-Lou the Lobster