Whatever Lola Wants

artgalleryofontario:

Zurich Cathedral seen from the River Limmat, c. 1925  - 1926Ernst Ludwig Kirchner,  German, 1880 - 1938Ink on wove paper16.5 x 20.5 cmGift of Dr. A.D. Taliano, 2006© 2014 Art Gallery of Ontario

artgalleryofontario:

Zurich Cathedral seen from the River Limmat, c. 1925 - 1926
Ernst Ludwig Kirchner, German, 1880 - 1938
Ink on wove paper
16.5 x 20.5 cm
Gift of Dr. A.D. Taliano, 2006
© 2014 Art Gallery of Ontario

standardizedbogey said: Ralph, Alex, Kate

character: Ralph 

hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with: Lloyd (Texas)

important friends: Owen, Ilan, Lloyd, 

general opinions: My conception of Ralph is a lot like a kid on the cusp of adulthood. Suddenly there is all this responsibility and business and holy crap money! but at his heart he’s still a farm boy trying to adjust

character: Alex 

hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with: Oliver

important friends: George, Oliver, the original 13

general opinions: I never expected to like this character as much as I do, but I find him hilarious and a tiny bit charming in an a brash sort of way. Now the stupid Brooklyn bastard is probably my second most written character.

character: Kate 

hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with: Ilan

important friends: North West, Ilan, Victoria, Ben

general opinions: Kate’s another blank slate to me. :( I see tons of potential, but waaay more research is needed. I do think she’s probably the most level headed and practical out of all of her siblings though. Also, she’s totally Macgyver when it comes to making things.

theforgottenkey said: Manitoba/Ilan, Oliver, Owen

character: Ilan 

 hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with:  Kate

important friends: Owen, Ralph, Kate, Joel

general opinions: this is harder than I thought. I’ve basically headcannoned Ilan into basically a giant ball of adorable earnest awkwardness. Also I seriously need to write him more.

character: Owen 

hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with:  um, sort of forever alone sorry sorry I just havent found the perfect person for him yet

important friends: Ralph and Ilan, also he gets included in his cousins’ NFL fantast draft parties because he loves football so much, but then he tries to draft CFL players…

general opinions: Still shamefully very much a blank slate to me. Though I do think he is calm and steady on the outside and a never ending snark train on the inside

character: Oliver 

hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with: Alex, Jean 

important friends: Alex, Jean, Jane, Victoria, Henry, (haha and JP in that particular universe)

general opinions: unabashedly my guinea pig, as I’m not mortally afraid of offending someone else’s province when I play with him. He’s also the one I find the easiest to write. 

send me a character

finnickswand:

character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with:

important friends:

general opinions:

(via randomoranges)

IAMP SHORT FIC

so this bunny bit. I’ve always wanted to write something with just these two. It probably should be more angst riddled or something but I can’t do that so there is is this. …..yeah….

The meeting had, for once, ended with smiles rather than empty platitudes spoken around gritted teeth. Handshakes were had all around, and Ralph watched has his boss was led away down the stairs to stand in front of the throng of media gathered at the foot of the large staircase which dominated the entrance hall of Queen’s Park. One by one, secretaries and political aides followed, until Ralph was left standing alone in the hallway.

Well, almost alone.

His eyes drifted slowly to the man standing next to him. Oliver was staring intently after the fast disappearing group of politicians. It didn’t take much for Ralph to guess at his thoughts. This part had always bothered Oliver, when their bosses disappeared to step in front of cameras. For the sake of secrecy they couldn’t follow and Oliver, for a brief moment, was no longer in control. Ralph was fairly sure he hadn’t so much as blinked in the last minute, desperate to hear even the faintest sound of the press conference down below.  He rolled his eyes.  Whatever stick was jammed up Oliver’s ass, by now they’d need an archaeologist to get it out.  

Ralph shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. No doubt their bosses thought that Oliver and he were doing the traditional off the cuff catching up that representatives supposedly did once the politics were done with. And, if it were Owen or Ilan, or anyone else he would be, but it was Oliver, and he was sure Oliver cared as much about his recent backpacking trek through the badlands or the documentary on the Triassic period he watched last night than he did about the upcoming opera season or the Asian stock market. Idly, Ralph thought of ditching and heading back to the hotel to wait for his boss with the added bonus of Netflix; but that would, he supposed, be considered a slight, and though this meeting had gone well, Oliver still hadn’t completely signed on to the cross Canada pipeline.

He rocked forwards again, flat footing with a thump. “So…”

Oliver’s phone beeped.

Oliver held up a finger as he slid it out of his pocket, not seeing, or deliberately ignoring, the unimpressed look Ralph gave him. Whatever the beep was, Oliver dismissed it quickly by tapping a few buttons and slipping the phone back into his pants. He looked up at Ralph, studying him for a moment;

“Would you like to help me with something?”

***

“Something” was a basket full of tiny furry bodies in Oliver’s office. A chorus of “mews” greeted their arrival as one by one the kittens, who couldn’t be more than three weeks old, wobbled from the plush wicker basket onto the floor.  

Upon seeing them, Ralph did what any red blooded male would do. His heart melted and he rushed to sink to the plush carpet, immediately scooping one kitten up and making a silly face at it.

“Their mother rejected them,” Oliver’s voice floated out from the small private kitchenette, its counter over flowing with tins and jars of tea, attached to the office. Ralph wondered for a moment who in their right mind would have a kitchenette in an office, and then promptly wondered if he could convince his boss to let him have one too. “They’ve got to be fed about 5-6 times a day at this point.” Oliver emerged with a bottle in either hand, the beep from the phone, it seemed, had been a reminder. “Makes for some interesting scheduling.”

“So this is why you wouldn’t come to Alberta.”

Oliver sank to the ground next to him. “Sorry.”

“Nah, I don’t blame ya.”

Oliver showed Ralph how to hold them, cupping a kitten in the palm of his hand, their head raised, so they could suck at the nipple of the bottle, and then gently rubbing their stomachs afterwards to get them to burp. It wasn’t so different from hand rearing a calf, Ralph thought, only tinier and fuzzier. He smiled at the kitten, thinking back fondly on memories of early mornings in warm barns and the feel of a warm flank under his hand.

“You know,” Ralph said, running a finger over a tabby striped head, “next time you try to bully us I’m going to remember this. A man with a basket full of kittens in his office isn’t very threatening.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, but laughed anyway. “I’m going to remember the weird squeaking noise you made when you saw them.”

Ralph made a face at him. After that, they drifted into idle conversation. Ralph had always felt more comfortable when there was something for him to do with his hands, and suddenly the pressure and awkwardness of before felt long gone. There was, he found, some common ground between them after all, even if it was reminiscing over Gretzky.

“So do they have names yet?” Ralph asked a little while later, leaning back against the large mahogany desk.  Now fed, the kittens were exploring the thick patterned carpet.

“Not yet, why?”

“Because that one,” Ralph pointed to the silver tabby kitten, “totally looks like a ‘Picard’.”

Oliver tilted his head to the side, as though trying to see it himself.  “And that one?” He pointed to an orange kitten with one tiny paw resting on the lip of the basket.

Ralph grinned. “Riker.” 

historical-nonfiction:

How Canada came to be, in pretty time-lapse map format

historical-nonfiction:

How Canada came to be, in pretty time-lapse map format

(via randomoranges)

A Short Poem About Hockey

goaliesticks:

Where the fuck
Is the puck

(via randomoranges)

howtotrainyourdragon2:

Animation.

lifting-spirits:

mr-noodle-arms:

willycheesesteak:

Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy - Dancing Groot

“Baby Groot dancing is 100 percent me. I was too embarrassed for anyone to be there, so I made everyone leave the room and I set up a camera and I videotaped myself dancing. Then I sent the video to the animators and had them animate over that. I begged them not to leak the video! Two of my closest friends came to an early screening and said ‘Hey, I recognize those moves! That’s you dancing isn’t it?!’” - Vin Diesel

reblogged before but that comment just makes it that much better

(via nedcan)

“i don’t want to write this fanfic i want to fucking read it”

—   a novel not written by me (via kingxxxwizard)

(via randomoranges)