ReduxI am sixteen years old. It’s my first day of school - though the school year started a month...

Redux

I am sixteen years old. It’s my first day of school - though the school year started a month or two ago for everyone else here - at the American School of Kuwait.

The location is not what bothers me. The thing that makes today incredibly weird, is that yesterday I was thirty-eight and working for a living making tiny things.

There’s an old hypothetical question, “If you could go back to any time in your life, would you?”

I’ve always answered that question with a ‘no’ to be honest. There’d be so many cruddy things I’d have to go through again, and I’m sure that if I tried to change things I’d miss out on all the really good things I’ve had.

But apparently the choice has been taken from me. Of all the things I wouldn’t mind doing, high school would have been far, far down the list. Here I am, all the same.

The bus ride is over though; that would have been fun. At least, I remember it, unlike the details of my first day. Hareef picked me up by driving the wrong way down a divided highway, and then trundled off through the desert on paths that might have resembled high tech roads a couple thousand years ago. It was hilarious and startling.

From what I recall, I was really depressed and introverted the whole time I was here last; spending my recess/lunch times reading and rereading some favorite books (there had only been so much weight allowance for books after all). I kind of made some friends, but the only one I still talk to, the one I was the maid of honor for and still see once a year, won’t show up for a month or two.

My class schedule is weird. It’s a six day rotation kind of thing, so no two days in a row are the same, and no two weeks in a row are the same. Today is a “B” day. And since weekends in Kuwait are Thursday and Friday, today happens to be Saturday.

More than anything, I feel irritation. Seriously: I didn’t ask for this. There were no weird fortune teller machines, magic lamps, creepy old ladies in alleys, nothing. I just woke up standing here in the plaza, looking at the paint-chipping white and blue buildings and holding a too-full backpack.

I roll my eyes. The school has lockers, but I remember that I carried all of my crap around with me until a month or three in, when I finally got assigned one of them. It was weird starting a school year later than everyone else around me.

I don’t have time for this crap. I go to the office and ask about a locker. I’m sure that that rib that likes to pop out of joint when I’m older is from all that time I spent carrying around a backpack full of books for a couple of years. At least I’ll be doing future-me a favor. They’re out of junior lockers, so I get one in the row with the seniors, at the end of the third floor. I think it’s the same one I remember having, so if the world’s going to explode in a paradox, it probably won’t be from that.

School here starts with a homeroom class that lasts fifteen minutes or so before we go off to our first classes. Mine is with the drama teacher - an american woman who is a lot of fun and has long ginger hair like my friend Jennifer (seriously, if I’m stuck here, at least I’ll get to hang out with her again - maybe it’ll give me a chance to be a better friend). Rats: if I’d just gotten here a couple weeks earlier, I could have signed up for drama class. If you want to be an animator, you should totally take some acting classes. Something I wish someone had told me when I was younger.

Oh well. Maybe I can try out for a play this time.

I have a lot of trouble finding my first class. It’s the first indication something is wrong.

I don’t remember having trouble finding my first class.

Granted, I don’t remember much of my first day. But this seems wrong somehow.

I show up extremely late, but it’s one of my two favorite teachers. I remember how I hung out in her classroom during lunches periodically, talking books and art, and when Jennifer showed up it was the three of us. She goes with it, and I know what she’s teaching (Beowulf), so it goes fine.

But my backpack has a pile of crap in it that I don’t recognize.

I pull out a messy notebook full of doodles and pages hanging out. I don’t recognize any of these drawings, and there are pages and pages of them. The handwriting is mine, but the linework doesn’t resemble anything I’ve ever done. Many are better than anything I’ve ever done.

I don’t know why it hasn’t occurred to me until now that this is probably a dream. I mean, it doesn’t feel like one, but don’t dreams feel real when you’re in them?

I pinch myself. It hurts. I sigh. Nothing for it but to ride it out, I suppose.

In the pile of crap in my backpack, I seem to have lost my class schedule. I have no idea where to go next, and while I can remember many of the classrooms I spent time in at this school, it’s a vague guess at best where to go next.

The throng of people around me breaks around a teacher like a river around a rock, and the teacher grabs me as I try to pass. He yells at me for leaving this mess on the floor and demands I clean it up

The mess on the floor is a pile of garbage; paper with doodles on it that look like what I found in my bag and some kind of liquid substance that looks suspicious.

“I’m not cleaning that up. Are you serious? That smells like pee, which is a biohazard; there’s no way I’m touching that.”

The teacher glares at me. “You’re going to do it because I said so.”

Since I have the experience in my head at least of growing up and realizing that adults are just as fallible as I am, and I don’t necessarily have to do what they say when they’re being completely unreasonable I tell him no and walk off, and try to find my next class.

The day goes more and more wrong, in a way that suggests more that it’s a dream and I begin to wonder when I’m going to wake up. I don’t have any of the work done for one of my classes (it’s my art class, and instead of being the incredibly cool teacher I remember, she treats me like my Oceanography teacher did, which was horrible).

At the end of the day I magically miss both of the buses home, though each of them leave an hour apart and it feels as if no time has passed.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” I shout to the sky. “It’s a dream. I’m not in school any more, I don’t live in Kuwait, and I like my life the way it is, thanks, so can I wake up already?”

Instead of answering, my coworker from the future shows up. “But we’ve missed the buses; how are we going to get home?” he asks.

I quickly do the math. He would have been six when I was sixteen; there’s no way he’d appear the same age as me at this point in my life.

“What are you talking about,” he asks, “are you insane?”

“No. I’m not insane. This is some crazy dream where I go back to my school days and everything goes wrong. I’m just surprised I didn’t end up missing my clothes all of a sudden.” I roll my eyes.

He backs away, looking askance at me. “Do you WANT to end up without your clothes..?” He seems half serious.

“What?” I back away. “No! God no. Ew. Geez. We are not that kind of friends.”

He looks confused a moment. “We’re not?”

“Oh. My. Lord. No. We are not,” I say. “Who are you, because you’re not who you’re pretending to be.”

His look of confusion remains a beat and then he straightens. “Oh fine.”

My coworker’s facade shimmers and a creature stands before me. It looks vaguely humanoid, but not like anything I’ve ever seen before. “This is one of the weirder dreams I’ve had,” I say to it, unfazed.

“Hmm. Yes,” it says, regarding me. “It is. I wonder why it didn’t work this time.”

The question seems rhetorical. “Because I just watched an episode of the X-Files and this is so ridiculous it can’t be real, maybe.”

I’m not impressed. This is by far the weirdest dream I’ve had, and I’ve had some pretty memorable ones before. Aliens aren’t really new, but I wait to see if it has anything else interesting to say.

There’s a pause. I think it’s annoyed at me for answering but I can’t tell. It stares at me for a few moments longer while I wait, eyes half lidded and waiting to wake up.

It makes a few comments into what appears to be a recorder that I can’t quite hear, then takes out another device that looks like a stapler and approaches me. Before I can react with the jujitsu skills I’ve gained since I was sixteen it grabs my left arm and applies the device to my forearm. A burning sensation radiates out from where it hits me and searing pain, many times worse than the pinch I gave myself makes my eyes tear and I try to pull away. The alien’s grip is vice-like though, and I can’t pull free.

He let’s go and makes another note. “Well there you go. You’re out.”

I’m crying, and there is a two inch seal burned into the skin of my forearm. “What the hell, man, that’s not cool!” I shout, or something like it.

“Subject is no longer viable as a test subject. Removal from study pool is now complete.” It turns its face to me. My vision goes white as it continues speaking to me.

I wake up later, in my bed, in my house, with my kitten standing on my bladder as I’ve become used to having in my life so far, well past my sixteenth year.

That dream was the weirdest ever. I reach over to absently rub the cat scratch on my left forearm before actually getting a look at it.

Burned into the surface, and half healed, is a seal; a design I don’t really recognize but definitely isn’t a cat scratch, and the alien’s last words come back to me. “Dream study complete.”

————

@whiskeyandwashitape @artofstevetownsley

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2Ev2rEs

beaky-peartree: remember when lol meant “laughing out loud” instead of “this is to indicate that...

beaky-peartree:

remember when lol meant “laughing out loud” instead of “this is to indicate that this brief text isn’t hostile”

That was before texting.

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2n7IoEY

Arrival[I’ve decided to write a short story a week, all year. Here’s my third.] On the day my life...

Arrival

[I’ve decided to write a short story a week, all year. Here’s my third.]

On the day my life changed, it was midnight dark outside when my cousin announced he had to leave for a lunch meeting. I laughed at him from my spot at the table, playing a handheld game. “Where is this meeting, Canada?” I asked, trying to navigate a particularly difficult area of the game.

He looked at me like I was the crazy one. “What are you talking about, it’s noon.”

I looked at my watch and sure enough, it was the middle of the day. He hadn’t noticed it was still dark, and I hadn’t noticed how much time had passed while I played. I’d gotten up early because I couldn’t sleep, the sort of thing that often happens when one sleeps in a bed not their own, and I’d been staying at my aunt’s house for several days now. I was divorced and sad, and not sure what to do with myself since I didn’t think I was cut out for what everyone else defined as a relationship. My aunt and cousin had been a nice escape from my new reality.

“What the hell..?” I said, making my way to the window. “Was there another eclipse today and nobody mentioned it?”

“Uhm. I don’t think so?” he said, finally concerned and confused.

I slipped on my shoes by the front door without adding socks and went outside. It was snowing and the yard and road were covered with a good few inches of the stuff, suggesting my trip home was going to be delayed at least a day. The horizon was lit a little bit, but sure enough, the sky was dark and cloudy; more dark than usual for a snow storm in a place it rarely snowed.

Above us, the clouds seemed even darker than they were on the horizon, suggesting the sun’s light wasn’t even hitting them. There was something up there.

My cousin stood next to me and we stared at the sky. The air rippled a little, as if with a sound we weren’t equipped to hear, and the snow stopped suddenly. Through the clouds the shape that had been blocking the daylight descended and stopped just above the house.

It was larger than anything I’d ever been able to comprehend and still float in the air. In the darkness it was hard to make out details, but the surface seemed industrial; full of pipes and panels and metal. I could feel a slight pressure in my ears, but it was not altogether unpleasant. I looked over to meet my cousin’s eyes and he had the same nonplussed look on his face that I imagined I had.

A soft light shined down and we looked up to see some kind of opening. The light beam ended behind the house, and we saw three dark shapes start to descend slowly. My cousin and I pushed past each other to rush into the house and out the back sliding glass door, rushing around the table and chairs to get our hands on the lock and push it open, getting tripped up by the wooden stick holding the door closed.

I grabbed it and flung it out of the way, knocking over a chair while my cousin slid the door open and flew out onto the back deck.

I arrived a breath after, stopping beside him to see the beam of light ending in the center of the yard, and in the center of it were three cats. A fourth cat, one I recognized as a familiar neighbor cat, jumped the fence to flee at the sight of us.

The remaining three stared at us, and we stared back, and the light faded away.

“Holy crap,” I said, my voice sounding much more calm than I thought it would.

“Yeah,” replied my cousin, equally calm. “Aliens finally arrive, and they turn out to be house cats.”

We hesitated a moment longer, looked at each other as if deciding something, and both shrugged. “What the hell,” I said, and stepped forward gently.

The cats were normal looking house cats. One was an orange tabby, muscly and big-pawed. The second was a fluffy calico, washing its shoulder. The third was black with short hair, sleek and shiny. They watched us approach, their eyes intelligent, their muscles relaxed.

I knelt several feet away from them and held out a hand for sniffing purposes. They all seemed to exchange a look and make a similar decision, for they approached my cousin and me.

The black cat came close and sniffed at my hand, then rubbed its whole body luxuriantly on my outstretched palm. It purred loudly and startled itself and its fellows, as if none of them expected that to happen. The other two cats took turns approaching my cousin and me, and my cousin grew bold enough to pick up the calico. Its eyes widened, but he had many years of cat cuddling experience and the calico seemed to relax after a moment and purr itself.

The air shook then; the unheard hum reaching into hearable range as the ship started to whine. We all looked up to see it start to break apart, but before we could decide to run for cover, we realized it was staying aloft in its pieces. Light started to break through and we could see the dark metal pieces converting to something else and separate from each other, floating off to join the still heavily snowing clouds. They seemed to evaporate. Perhaps they turned to ash and fell to the ground with the snow; neither of us were sure afterward.

The black cat jumped to my shoulder, startling me, but balanced expertly without digging in its claws. The orange tabby jumped to the highest point it could get: the railing on the deck. They all watched in rapt fascination as the ship disappeared. My cousin and I stared as well, the snow falling onto our upturned faces.

“Well. What now?” asked my cousin, absently petting the calico in his arms and meeting my eyes with his.

“I don’t know. We didn’t have a plan other than getting here,” said the black cat, matter-of-factly from my shoulder.

My cousin and I stared. Apparently aliens were less surprising than talking cats, for we were both suddenly speechless and shocked.

“What?” said the orange tabby.

“Oh. Oops. I guess these don’t talk here.” said the black cat. “Sorry, we thought we’d pick a form that wouldn’t scare you, but we didn’t know much about these. What sound do cats usually make?”

My cousin cleared his throat. “Er. Usually they meow.”

The calico tried out the word, “meow.” It sounded very human and not like a normal cat meow. “That’s weird. How do you communicate with them? What does ‘meow’ mean anyway?”

“Um. All kinds of things. Usually it’s just cats trying to get us dumb humans to do their bidding.”

“Meeeow.” said the black. “I don’t like it. What kind of language has only one word?”

“Not a very good one,” I agreed. “We usually spend a lot of time guessing.”

“That’s just silly,” said the orange. “We’ll just keep using this language instead.”

The cold finally registered on me, since I was still in my hoodie and pyjama pants and I shivered. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

My cousin and I had a long talk with the three cats. They had been fleeing their planet, where their population was dwindling for no reason they could understand. What once had been a three planet empire had been whittled down to a small civilization with less than twenty individuals.

These three, siblings it turned out to be, had decided to leave and live their last remaining years somewhere else, where they wouldn’t slowly watch their friends and family die off for no understandable reason.

“And so we came here,” finished the orange, who seemed to be the eldest or the leader of the group. “Cats seemed to be pretty loved on this continent, so we picked that form to use. Seems to have worked.” he licked a shoulder with what seemed like smugness.

“I guess that was a good call,” said my cousin. “Just… maybe don’t talk around other people until we’re sure they’re not going to sell you to the military for vivisections or something. Not everyone likes, al- I mean, cats, as much as we do.”

“True” I said, then remembered something. “Wait, can you pick other forms?”

“No, not anymore. It was kind of a one time thing now that the ship is gone,” said the orange. Neither my cousin nor I noticed the hard look he gave the other two at that.

“How, er,” my cousin cleared his throat and tried again. “How much time do you have left, if you don’t mind me asking.”

The cats did some calculating, figuring out the differences in time from their planet to ours and then agreed, “Probably a hundred years or so.”

“Oh,” I said. I had been picturing months or weeks. A hundred years was a long time to be a cat, I thought.

And that’s the story of how my cousin and I have had between us the same three cats for the last thirty years. The black chose to stay with me, and the other two went with him. We hang out often, since we live in the same town, but Renna had had just about enough of being stuck with her two siblings all the time and was ready to see them only in smaller doses. Being stuck in a ship for a thousand year journey will do that to you, I gather.

He went on to get married and have a pile of kids - all surprises, I gather. The orange and calico were named Daris and Marna, respectively, and they helped babysit that pile of kids every now and again. His wife was ecstatic when she found out they weren’t normal house cats, and they all get along famously.

As for me, I spend my days exploring the Earth with Renna, seeing it and its people through new eyes. I spend my nights writing down her stories and sending them out into the world - her mind and my typing fingers pay the rent and keep us fed.

And for us, it’s enough.

———

@artofstevetownsley @whiskeyandwashitape

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2Du2I9n

purplecyphers: rhube: eldrake: thranduilland: unidentified-an...

My pile of shoe! @laughingcrowe #footshapedshoes #leatherworking...

My pile of shoe! @laughingcrowe #footshapedshoes #leatherworking #newhandmuscles

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2DXhWoz

I’m learning how to make boots!! 💚 #laughingcrowe #leatherwear...

I’m learning how to make boots!! 💚
#laughingcrowe #leatherwear #fabricationlife #handmade

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2FW0gKx

wejumpedoutawindow: frostbackcat: karenhallion: candyviolence: ...

wejumpedoutawindow:

frostbackcat:

karenhallion:

candyviolence:

Now THIS is art.

Have I reblogged this before. I don’t care, How absolutely amazing this is. 

IT JUST GOT BETTER

This is fantastic.

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2mL5909

writing-prompt-s: A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who...

writing-prompt-s:

A super hero fights evil by wiping memories of both the villian and everyone who knew of them so that they can be reintroduced into society safely. Today, as you were combing through old newspapers, you discover that you were once the world’s most powerful supervillain.

The day began like any other. Coffee. Teeth brushing. Pushing my cat off the kitchen counter. Everything in a vague sort of grey because my life seemed a vague sort of dull.

I sat down on my couch with my screen and scrolled through the combination social media and news site that everyone used these days and sipped my coffee, trying to wake up my sleepy brain. My attention span was short, like everyone else’s, and I barely noticed half of the content I was seeing in favor of the rabbit holes my thoughts chased each other down. I wondered briefly what it would have been like, a hundred years ago, before everyone had computers and social media and were connected all the time.

It took a few tries. I opened a new tab to see if anyone did print news any more, or if there were dedicated news channels that didn’t deal in sensationalism. To be fair, my thoughts weren’t this coherent. The tab ended up showing me a cooking video or five before I dragged myself back to the thought.

I managed to find a news site based on one of the old tv networks - the ones they had before everyone just went with internet streaming services. I had no idea these were still around.

The first few articles were about celebrities and gossip; the sort of crap that grabbed readers in this day and age and gave them something to be mad about with other strangers online, and I got lost in one or two of those also before again dragging myself back to the earlier thought.

The archives took another half hour to get to, partly because I kept getting sidetracked, and partly because the site must have been designed in the early 2000s. It was tacky and badly designed, but I found the archives in the end.

I just needed to figure out how far I should go back. It seemed they’d managed to scan old papers that had been honest to god, dropped on people’s porches. I was stunned at the archaic-ness of it all.

I was also quickly bored.

Before I closed the tabs down though, in favor of social media and gossip once again my attention was grabbed by an article. I still don’t know why; there was nothing particularly intriguing in the title other than it made me remember those old articles about super heroes from the 2050s.

Super heroes were a thing of the past as far as I knew - a flash in the pan of humanity. Thankfully, super villains were as well. Somewhere in the last thirty years they disappeared as quickly as they came, which was good for the rest of us. All you needed was one city leveled because someone with crazy powers had delusions of grandeur and everyone got over it pretty fast.

Anyway, I didn’t really pay attention. Super heroes were not my thing.

That article though… my hand navigated to it of its own volition it seemed. And for the first time in a long time, I felt able to focus without getting distracted.

“Dark Mantle Razes Building with Molten Rock.”

The article had a picture, of some freak in a costume with a black cape, and the destruction they had wrought. I skimmed the article but it ended with the villain apparently getting away.

There were links to other articles about this ‘Dark Mantle’ character. She robbed banks, murdered people; really the list went on.

Before I knew it, I’d devoured every article on this person. Early in her reign of terror, apparently she’d been latched onto by some self-styled hero or other who claimed to be her arch nemesis. How cheesy is that? I mean, this “hero” didn’t have anything to do with being the opposite to a magma-summoning badass. What even was this “Captain Phoenix’s” power?

I did some more digging. My coffee was cold and forgotten, and my cat had long since wandered off, having not gotten the affection she was trying for, but I had to know everything about this hero and villain.

Just when my searching was becoming a frenzy, my power went out with a sound like a transformer blowing. I jerked and dropped my screen and looked around the dark room, eyes temporarily blinded in the change from bright screen to curtain-shrouded room.

My eyes adjusted and my heart rate returned slowly to normal, but I jerked in surprise at a knock on the door.

Curious, I unlocked and opened it.

Four people stood outside, one with some kind of scanner pointed at me.

“Ms. Manning, how are you today?” Asked the woman not holding the scanner.

“Uh, fine? What happened? The power just went out.”

The woman with the scanner said to the woman that had spoken, “her readings are up ma’am. Inconclusive though.”

“Inconclusive? Readings?” I frowned. “Who are you and what are you doing here?

“Calm down Ms. Manning. We’re just here to check on you and make sure you’re okay.”

It was then that I saw the other two people behind the two women clearly. One was a man holding a case of what looked like delegate equipment, but the other had a newly familiar face. He was trying to stay out of my sight, but I recognized him immediately: Captain Phoenix.

Memory flooded through my mind in a jumble of flashes and I fell to my knees. Captain Phoenix staring at me, chasing me down a street, catching me at the site of a destroyed building with magma setting things aflame.

I couldn’t breathe. The air was hot and the woman without the scanner was shouting orders and Captain Phoenix rushed towards me, gathering me up in his arms and whispering calming nonsense words, keeping me from hitting my head on the floor.

“Damn, she’s getting it back. Wilson, get the apparatus ready!”

“No!” Captain Phoenix shouted, glaring at her and the man named Wilson. “We’re doing this my way this time, Kathryn.”

They backed off, slightly.

Memory flooded through again, causing me to convulse in his arms. More visions of destruction wrought by this Dark Mantle person, but I was looking out through her eyes. I tried to push away from Captain Phoenix but he held me tight.

“You can’t do it again; it didn’t work the first time!” Said the woman - Kathryn.

“I can and I will. Back off.” His voice was steel and the woman faltered.

And this boring, grey reality looked even more fake with the vibrancy of the memories flooding my mind, coming faster and faster, and then the memories changed.

I saw this man before me trying to calm my temper and talk instead of throwing trucks at me. I escaped him, but the next time we exchanged a few words. It came clear that he was letting me go, talking me down until I didn’t feel quite so much like destroying things any more.

And then I saw other people. Trapping me, drugging me, and causing me pain. Captain Phoenix told them, he could stop me without killing me, without hurting me any more. He could erase me and let me become a good person.

He’d done it before, after all. There were several villains just like me he had memory wiped. He’d erased them and their misdeeds from the collective human consciousness. It hadn’t been hard; people were easy to fool these days. All it took was a new story with loads of drama and people with unpopular opinions shouting and his power had to work very little.

But he didn’t care about them. It had been easy to erase them.

It had been hard to erase me.

My final memory before this boring, lifeless existence was of the sadness and regret on his face before he erased me from everyone - including myself - save him.

I reached up a hand, my vision clearing from the onslaught of memory, and touched his face. How could I have forgotten that face?

“My love…” I rasped, wonder at having feelings again making my voice husky.

Whatever he saw in my eyes made his go wide and tear up. He blinked and steeled his expression, deciding something.

He set me against the door jamb gently and stood to face the other three. They now had weapons trained on me.

“Did you do it? What did she say?” Asked Kathryn.

The mousy man with the case added, “has she forgotten again? Is it safe?”

Part of me noticed so much in the following moments. How the air had cooled but I still felt like myself. How he had genuine regret in his tone when he apologized to the three. How they didn’t realize what he was about to do in time to stop him.

He took all three of them in with his gaze and pushed his hands at them. Power I could almost taste flooded into them and they collapsed, drooling and dazed to the floor.

He sighed deeply and turned to me. He looked exhausted, but the hand he reached down to me was strong and steady as I pulled myself to my feet.

“Its you? It’s really you..?” He asked, searching my face.

My memories were settling down, but I remembered all the destruction I had wrought, and also the person who had given me a reason not to, long before he’d wiped my memory. I smiled. “Its me.”

He hugged me tightly. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Wait. I can’t.”

His face froze and then he began to doubt he’d done the right thing. I dashed back into the house proper and picked up my cat, Midnight, and headed back to the front door cuddling her furry bulk and presenting her to him for ear scratches.

“Okay. Now we can go.”

He grinned and lead the way, into our future.

———-

@whiskeyandwashitape @artofstevetownsley

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2rhtFLU

Be the Mr. Rogers you want to see in the world.

Be the Mr. Rogers you want to see in the world.

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2mEaVRv

Click here to support Help Me Fix My Life

Click here to support Help Me Fix My Life:

komatsujo:

I hate having to beg more than I already have, but after what’s happened tonight, I’m not sure what to do.

I never raised enough money to cover all of Alternis’s vet bills, which totalled over $2400 and maxed a credit card, but I’ve been putting the money raised toward the bills every month so i can try to pay off other things so that when the money runs out, i can afford it.

Then last week I was rear-ended by someone who ended up not being insured. She insists she did no damage to my vehicle, but the insurance adjuster says otherwise and now I have to come out of pocket $250 dollars if I want my vehicle repaired. 

On top of that, I’ve been really sick and unable to take time off work to get myself looked at. In the middle of a coughing fit, I ended up spilling water on my laptop and now it’s starting to… not work. My laptop is how I supplement my income and write, draw, etc. Which I now am unable to effectively.

To make matters worse, my workplace cut my pay so that the company could save money, and I’m bringing home less every paycheck. I hate having to beg, but i genuinely don’t know what to do.

Any donation helps toward the cost of repairing my vehicle, replacing my laptop so I can return to commissions, and continuing to pay off those vet bills. If you can’t donate, please consider reblogging and signal boosting.

Signal boost.

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2FGYpcj

keialaar: rangari: margaritash: I’ve finished the animation,...

keialaar:

rangari:

margaritash:

I’ve finished the animation, but have realized that using complicated colors isn’t a good idea, it is really better to concentrate on lines.

@keialaar

You have no idea how much I needed to see something this cute tonight, thank you!!!!

I adore red pandas.

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2EL2ET3

Captain Marvel paper cut! Keep an eye out, she’ll be for sale on...

Captain Marvel paper cut!
Keep an eye out, she’ll be for sale on my Etsy page.

#marvel #captainmarvel #papercut #hero #princesssparklefists

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2AYslx0

Like having your art reblogged? Look no further! Reblog if you like your art reblogged!

artist-promos:

Inspired by @artists-everyday , artist-promos serves to signal boost all art on tumblr! Submit all your art to us and we will reblog it! It is our mission to promote all art and make sure it’s seen by everyone! But in order to make this happen, we need your help! Reblog this post, follow our blog and we will promote your art!

Happy arting everyone!

@chlorofluoro-artist

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2mBkUre

What is the $10 Revolution?

sweaterkittensahoy:

10dollarrevolution:

The $10 Revolution is an idea to transform the relationship we have to online media. The idea is this:

Set aside $10 of your budget a month. Just $10.

Then use that $10 to directly support creators you enjoy in whatever way you see fit. Maybe that means donating $1 to 10 different creators’ Patreons. Maybe that means subscribing to someone on Twitch for $5 and using the rest as a direct donation. Maybe that means giving the entire $10 to your favorite creator, and letting everyone else go.

But imagine the change if everyone set aside $10 to support their favorite online creators. If everyone who watched that tiny YouTube channel supported with $1. If everyone who read your favorite webcomic gave $1 a month.

Suddenly, an artist who has 300 fans has a legitimate source of income.

A YouTube channel with only 1000 subscribers might be able to sustain itself.

And the reliance on the ad-free model of media, where creators have to make clickbait to even have a chance of being seen, starts to end.

The $10 Revolution is not an idea, but a call to action.

Set aside just $10 a month, and ask your friends to consider doing the same.

Let’s see what we can do.

#10DollarRevolution

I have resolved to self-promote like a shameless carnival barker, so here I go. 

etsy store (which has a couple $10 items, and I hope to add more).

ko-fi for Errata-Hate (my crochet youtube channel)

ko-fi for Blue Stones (original writing: read it here)

I am telling you from a year’s experience, $10 does a LOT for creators. I can use it to make more shit. I can use it to buy more shit to review. I can use it to pay for at least some food while I write. 

It’s a big fucking deal.

Let’s do this thing!

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2D4oYtu

writing-prompt-s: You are an NPC who has fallen in love with the player character. Sadly for you,...

writing-prompt-s:

You are an NPC who has fallen in love with the player character. Sadly for you, you are unable to say more than a few pre-programmed words to them.

I always looked forward to her visits more than any of the others. While most of the patrons in my shop were excellent and beautiful specimens of their races, she stood out. For some reason I didn’t understand, very few female dwarves left their homeland as far as I could tell.

She had a pleasant face with a ready smile, always eager to laugh at some joke. Her eyes danced. She had two long, ginger plaits that ran down her back to her waist, and while she was stocky - as dwarves tend to be - she had all the right curves.

The other adventurers that pass through this small town, just a waypoint really, seem to always be in a rush. They stop in and sell bits and bobs collected in their quests and always hurry me along, like they just don’t have time for me to express even the fewest words possible to do our business. I feel as if they don’t even hear me

But she… she always gave me the time to say all the shop’s required spiels whenever she came in.

Ah my dear, let us be true to one another.

Unfortunately I don’t think she knows the depth of my feelings for her, because every time I see her all I can manage to say are inanities.

Just the other day, she came in to give me those ten [kobold ears] I needed (for what, I can’t recall; every other adventurer had similar piles that were all necessary in the moment), and though I wanted to ask her if she had time to grab some mead, all that came out was a hearty, “Keep your feet on the ground!”

…keep your feet on the GROUND?!

Why would I even say that?!

Maybe I hadn’t noticed. Perhaps I say that a lot?

I started to pay attention after that.

Over the next several days many adventurers came through. They wore motley scraps of armor that didn’t look all that impressive - that didn’t seem to have a passing interest in even matching - and were always in a hurry. Always dropping off bundles of ten kobold ears, or selling rabbit skins, and rushing out just as quickly. Every now and then a few of them would gather in the doorway or right in front of me like I wasn’t even there, (getting in everyone’s way of course), and for no apparent reason they’d burst into laughter, or song, or dance. One fellow even started crying for no apparent reason and then snapped out of it just as quickly.

Has it always been this way? Did I not notice? What had changed?

She returned again, a few days later, looking just as wonderful as she always did. She gave me those eight pieces of [tough wolf meat] I needed for that…thing that I couldn’t quite recall. She smiled and waited patiently for her reward, and while in my heart I asked for her name and what she might be doing later, my mouth said, “Watch yer back!” And she left.

The days and nights run together between the times I see her. Literally. Like, why hadn’t I noticed until now that I never seem to sleep? I mean, I have a bed in the back (I think), but all I do, day and night, is stand here in this exact spot in the shop, giving people shopping lists of things I need and then rewarding them small pittances when they bring them.

And there are a lot of them! What am I going to do with eight [tough wolf meat] from each of the hundred adventurers that come through here each day? For that matter, where do I even put them? It’s like, they go in my pocket, never to be seen again.

Panicked, I look down to see if my pants are bulging at the seams with old, rotting meat. Thankfully I look normal. Wherever they go, perhaps they are magicked into some store room somewhere in the world.

I can’t imagine what use the stacks of ten [kobold ears] are for. Disgusting.

Time starts to blur and I lose myself in fantasy for a while, imagining my dwarven love and I taking a long hike in the snow and end the day drinking warm beverages in front of the fire. We’d warm our toes and I’d tell her all the things I love about her. How the firelight makes her eyes glint, and the way her freckles make me smile.

It keeps the days and nights from feeling monotonous.

She startles me from another fantasy and I think I blush at being caught but I can’t be sure. Do I know what it’s like to blush?

I greet her with a, “Great to meet ya!” And wince internally. Great to MEET you?! What am I saying?! If all the stars winked out tonight, there would be one constant in the universe, and it’s that I love this adorable dwarf. I’d know her in the dark, or dressed in rags, or, I don’t know, anything, and I act like I’ve never seen her before.

I don’t understand. I want to tell her how I feel, to start living the fantasies I’ve been dreaming in this short time I seem to have become aware, but all that comes out as I pay her five copper pieces for her six [stringy boar haunches] is, “Be good!”

I would sigh, but I find I can’t.

————-

@whiskeyandwashitape

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2m9koAC

whiskeyandwashitape: tilltheendwilliwrite: this-kitty-has-claws: pegasusdragontiger: glynnisi: p...

whiskeyandwashitape:

tilltheendwilliwrite:

this-kitty-has-claws:

pegasusdragontiger:

glynnisi:

paranoidwino:

latessitrice:

I was tagged by @w1tchmom to post the last sentence I’ve written for a fanfiction/original work/any piece of writing and tag as many people as there are words!

There was no use raking over soil where nothing could be sowed.

Tagging: @leftennant @amidtheflowers @fudebusho @bloomsoftly @meleedamage @octoberland @ragwitch @dresupi @ibelieveinturtles @zephrbabe @paranoidwino @librarian-amy

I was tagged by the amazing @latessitrice . to post the last sent ence I’ve written for a fanfiction/original work/any piece of writing and tag as many people as there are words!

She was beautiful, her eyes dancing.

Oh, lucky easy one haha.

Taaagging.

  @holdmecloseandfast @hollyspacey @directorcartinelli @probablyunnecessary @gstarshine @glynnisi yaaay!

thinks for thanking of me, @paranoidwino :)

“Not if you keep calling me ‘daddy’ in that voice, I’m not.”

@mcgregorswench, @wahwahwaffles, @aenariasbookshelf, @typhoidmeri, @pegasusdragontiger, @idontgettechnology, @dresupi, @captain-amoruca, @spacenerdevans, @avenger-nerd-mom

Aww @glynnisi I love you!

“Shall we get started now on the story for the day?”

@magellan-88 @princess-evans-addict @ilovethings-somuch @bolon-tiku @bucky-plums-barnes @buckyappreciationsociety @buckybarnesstar @suz-123 @this-kitty-has-claws @tilltheendwilliwrite @littleplebe

@pegasusdragontiger thank you love ❤

“I’m going to kill them all Stevie.”

@tilltheendwilliwrite

“Steven, I love you, but if aliens fall from the sky I’ll kick your ass for jinxing us.” Kennedy motioned him closer so she could kiss him, no longer willing to meet him halfway.  - Canadian Girl Christmas

Yes… I’m working on it.

@whiskeyandwashitape @fanfics-and-coffee @taleasedubh

Okay, A) yay! @tilltheendwilliwrite

B) My last sentence was kind of short but I’ll give it to you any ways. It’s from Haunting Me.

For now, you could just be.

@call-her-little-bird @bitsandbobsandstuff @danie-dreams @wingsyouburn @buckyappreciationsociety

The frog interrupted impatiently. “Wonderful. Lovely. Now that you’ve introduced yourselves, let’s get down to business,” he said.

Well. The last three sentences anyway.

via Tumblr http://danie-dreams.tumblr.com/post/169418616353

n8thegr8-stickanime: thotslayer-supreme: emo-sanders-sides-lovin...

n8thegr8-stickanime:

thotslayer-supreme:

emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn:

stars-in-mine-eyes:

i-m-p-a-l-a-6-7:

shipqueen-of-the-otps:

hellaintp:

emospritelet:

anonymousnerdgirl:

cerulean-leopardess:

bluerainst0rm:

studying-tips:

chipthepunk:

littleblackmariah:

kingfisherfaker:

gailsimone:

morenamagia:

equiusinamaidoutfit:

p41g3r4nk1n:

listenforthesteel:

Some assholes have been putting nails in cheese and treats in dog parks in Chicago and Massachusetts. Also adding antifreeze to water bowls.

Please watch out for your dogs. And if you find out the address of someone doing this, give me the address and tell no one. I will disembowel them.

Antifreeze is fucking deadly as shit. Whilst my mom worked in the vets office the neighbor of a cat owner had become sick of his neighbors tom spraying by his house so he left antifreeze out for the cat. Animals are weirdly attracted to the smell and will drink it.

The cat was given to the vets and for 2 days it’s insides were slowly dissolved by the acids and it bled from his nose, mouth and even eyes.  

On the second day, the vet not being able to help and refusing to let the cat suffer any longer put the cat down. The neighbor who did not deny his crimes didn’t even offer to pay the woman’s vet bill.

SO THE BIGGEST FUCKING SIGNAL BOOST TO THIS POST.

Fuck who ever is doing this. They can fucking burn.

my friend had a cat and it drank antifreeze that was puddled in the driveway and one day they were knitting and it just vomited up all of its internal organs and fell over dead on her lap.

The perpetrators of all of this will burn in Hell. 

A neighbor of mine threw a ball of hamburger full of rat poison pellets over our fence for my son’s dog. He survived, barely, but has had nerve damage ever since.

Okay, listen up, if your pet drinks antifreeze, do you know what the cure is? Alcohol. That’s right. To save your furry little friend you have to get them drunk out of their faces. Antifreeze is an inhibitor and stops your enzymes from working, but luckily alcohol stops that from happening. I learned this from my A Level Biology lessons, but here’s a source anyway http://ift.tt/1wIhDVe

Shit this is important SIGNAL BOOST THIS THANK YOU ALICE

BOOST.
FUCKING BOOST.

I know I run a studyblr, but I do not care

BOOST THIS THING.

and man fuck those guys who poison our pets.

save my children

IMPORTANT POST

Signal boost to stop an asshole!

This is the once in a moon when I repost something not MBTI but I think everyone can agree this is important. Signal boost this!

Boosting the f*** out of this

Protect all the pets

protect the kitts and doggos

Protect the wonderful creatures!

#PROTECCTHEPETS

Asterix wanted me to

via Tumblr http://ift.tt/2CPaHRm