Ok So I got this idea from the lovely @bamboozledeagle who wrote a post about Donald thinking he isnt needed when Della gets rescued from the moon, except I didnt put the ending, which does end happily and I love it. 

OH MY GOD YES THIS IS ABSOLUTELY GLORIOUS YOU BEAUTIFUL TALENTED PERSON YOU

If you’re a fan of the Pokemon anime’s latest iteration, the Sun and Moon series, read LeDiz’s fanfiction, A Professor and a Student. It focuses on the parental relationship that has fostered between Professor Kukui and Ash in canon, up to the field trip to Kanto- and it’s complete, so you don’t need to wait for an update for the next chapter. If you’re not a fan… read it anyway, because it might just change your mind :D

Not that… I’m forcing you to do it or anything… It’s just… I love it a lot ^_^

The link to it is here if you’re interested: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10694409/chapters/23685771

Still one of the best Pokémon fics I have ever read!

Oh.

How dare you make me live with this knowledge.

Wolf pup howling for the first time

I’ve reblogges this before but words cannot express how my face lit up when it came across my dash again so here you go, you’re welcome. This is my favourite thing.

please excuse my grandpa in the background but here’s poncho enjoying her thanksgiving superworms

i will NOT excuse your grandpa he is INTEGRAL to my enjoyment of this video

Black cats are lucky. (via leahweissmuller)

MAN [IN THICK ACCENT]: Black cat bring good luck.  Not bad luck.  I have black cat - See, him face - And I am not dead today: Good luck!

“See him face”

I sure fucking do see him face

Him face

Reblog him face for good luck in 2021

Reblog him face for good luck in 2021 (2)

Please help us pay for our dog’s cancer treatment

I know most of us aren’t going through the easiest of times right now, so reblogs are very appreciated. Please only donate if you are able. 

https://gofund.me/de8e67de

Meet Obie, the 10 year old australian shepherd/border collie/great pyrenees mix who brings a whole lot of love and happiness to my mom, my sibling, and me. He’s recently been diagnosed with a large prostate tumor. Due to the size and location of the tumor, surgery is not an option for Obie. 

My family has decided on radiation treatments to shrink the size of the tumor and hopefully give Obie another 1.5 or more years of quality life. He’s still in great health otherwise, and we want to extend his time with us as long as possible. Obie will have low dost radiation every weekday over the month of March.

Unfortunately, radiation treatment is very expensive. We are attempting to raise funds to help cover the cost of treatment, the ~2.5 hours round trip drive to the radiation center every day, and Obie’s other medications, which comes out to about $14,000. 

Obie is an incredible companion and we want to give him the best last years of his life possible. Please help us out by reblogging this post and donating if you have some to spare. 

If you’d like to keep up with Obie’s treatment journey, please join us on his instagram account here (@obiegoes). <3

https://gofund.me/de8e67de

Obie is now officially done with his radiation treatments!! His tumor has shrunk and the treatment was an overall success.

However, we still owe about $13k total– we are at 1,041/14,000.

Please reblog and donate if you can. Thank you so much for the donations so far 💖

gofundme

instagram @obiegoes

it’s the 21st day of the 21st year of the 21st century.

you can only reblog this today.

This is... almost too good

When my blood sugar is low: Critiquing Agency as Cultural Mediators

It's NOT GOOD: Critiquing Narratives Through A Critical Lens

Critiquing Normativity As a Form of Erasure.

Could be worse, I guess.

Embodying forms of oppression as transformative justice. ..... dang

The sound of laughter snapped Tadashi out of his trance.

To be more specific the sound of Hiro’s laughter caught Tadashi’s attention.

Angel wings fluttering, Tadashi sought his brother out in the crowd. It had been five long years since Tadashi’s death. The higher ups had allowed Tadashi to stay on Earth to watch over his family and friends instead of forcing him to move on. So even though he was invisible to everything and everyone, Tadashi had walked with Hiro through the grieving process, saw Professor Callaghan’s fall, and watched his baby brother grow into a hero.

Just when Tadashi was about to move on, confident that his family and friends would be okay without him, puberty hit Hiro. Suddenly his baby brother was no longer small and adorable but tall and cute and the admirers started flocking to Tadashi’s endless ire. How could he move on and leave his clueless baby brother defenseless against these… creeps!

“You’re really cute,” an older scientist told Hiro.

Tadashi’s eyes narrowed. He knew that Hiro attending this science convention was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Nearly everyone in the room was a good decade older than Hiro and Tadashi could see the leers and glances coming from everyone.  

Hiro laughed. “Haha, aren’t you exaggerating? I’m pretty average.”

Tadashi floated behind Hiro, glaring at the brown haired mousy looking man. “He’s too young for dating,” Tadashi growled. “Come back, NEVER.”

To Tadashi’s delight, the older man paled and took off. He grinned, smug at the outcome.

“What’s his problem?” Wasabi asked as the gang joined Hiro.

Hiro shrugged. “I don’t know. He said I was cute, then when I told him I’m pretty average, he suddenly paled and took off.”

“But you are cute, Hiro!” Honey Lemon said.

“Maybe to you,” Hiro said, smiling. “I think I’m pretty average. Oooo! The next lecture is gonna start. C’mon guys!” He took off with Wasabi and Honey Lemon in tow.

“Unbelievable,” Tadashi said. “How can Hiro not know?!” His poor clueless baby brother.

Once Hiro was out of earshot, Fred remarked, “Paled and ran away for no reason huh? I bet Tadashi is still looking for his baby bro.”

Definitely. Absolutely. Tadashi always thought Fred was secretly a genius. Maybe not in terms of math and science intelligence, but a genius in life and the unexplained.

Gogo snapped her gum. “Even he isn’t, we’ll have to be more careful. The kid doesn’t know how cute he looks. We’ll be beating off his admirers with sticks for years.”

Invisible to them both, Tadashi grinned, wings fluttering. His friends were awesome. Hiro was definitely in safe hands.

A/N: Just something quick. Un-beta, sorry for any mistakes you see.

omg im dead

DEAD I TELL YOU

-liesdown-

Home Is Where the Weird Is

Summery: Pacifica is kicked out of her home, and the only place she can think of to go is the Mystery Shack. A Stan and Pacifica bonding fic.

Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Obvious issues of child neglect, as well some blood/injuries at the end

Whew, finally finished! This turned out a lot longer then expected. This is from a post I made, about this scenario that many people seemed to really like, and abaikgirl​ girl suggested I write a fic! Hope you like!

Pacifica’s POV

Pacifica hesitantly stepped out of the Sheriff’s car and into the Oregon night. She shivered slightly,  but it wasn’t because of the cool mountain air.

“You’re sure you don’t need anything else, missy?” Sherriff Blubs asked, scratching his head in confusion.

“Yup! Just needed a ride,” Pacifica answered casually. Sheriff Blubs wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but something about the situation didn’t sit right with him.  “I have to say, it’s mighty strange to see you on this road so late by yourself. Especially since you’re a Northwest! Don’t you have some fancy limo to drive you? Where are your parents?”

Pacifica felt her stomach tighten. Why is this guy suddenly doing his job? Just play it cool, Pacifica. She brushed a strand of blond hair from her eyes, and waved a hand at him. “They’re just busy at some party. I was supposed to meet some friends to hang out, but the limo broke down! Pretty weird, right? I’m running late to meet them.”

Sherriff Blubs adjusted his sunglasses (Pacifica still wasn’t sure why he wore them at night, or how he could see. Small town quirks) and he shrugged. “Well, if you say so missy. Have fun with your friends!” Pacifica let out an internal sigh of relief. That was a close one. Blubs slammed the door closed and the car winded back down Gopher Road, small dust clouds in its wake. 

Pacifica watched until the red tail-lights receded completely into the night. Then she swallowed and adjusted her purple book bag, turning toward her destination. The Mystery Shack’s interior glowed with a warm yellow light. ‘Welcoming’ was never something she thought she would consider the run-down tourist trap. But right now, it seemed more inviting than the cold mansion she grew up in. Still, she wavered. The hesitation stretched on until she heard an owl hoot somewhere nearby. 

“You got this, Pacifica,” she breathed out. “Mabel and Dipper sort of like you now… right?”

Keep reading

Going thru old likes and found this gem again! Such a sweet fic.

Some fairy tales retold:

Cinderella:

Sleeping Beauty:

Snow White:

Beauty and the Beast:

Robin Hood:

Rapunzel:

Aladdin:

The Frog Prince:

The Little Mermaid:

Bluebeard:

East of the Sun and West of the Moon:

King Aruthur:

What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect–what if she took him in?

Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them).

Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes–she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow. When Harry was two and Vernon Dursley bought Dudley a toy car and Harry a fast food meal with a toy with parts he could choke on Petunia packed her things and got a divorce.

Harry grew up small and skinny, with knobbly knees and the unruly hair he got from his father. He got cornered behind the dumpsters and in the restrooms, got blood on the jumpers Petunia had found, half-price, at the hand-me-down store. He was still chosen last for sports. But Dudley got blood on his sweaters, too, the ones Petunia had found at the hand-me-down store, half price, because that was all a single mother working two secretary jobs could afford for her two boys, even with Vernon’s grudging child support.

They beat Harry for being small and they laughed at Dudley for being big, and slow, and dumb. Students jeered at him and teachers called Dudley out in class, smirked over his backwards letters.

Harry helped him with his homework, snapped out razored wit in classrooms when bullies decided to make Dudley the butt of anything; Harry cornered Dudley in their tiny cramped kitchen and called him smart, and clever, and ‘better ‘n all those jerks anyway’ on the days Dudley believed it least.

Dudley walked Harry to school and back, to his advanced classes and past the dumpsters, and grinned, big and slow and not dumb at all, at anyone who tried to mess with them.

But was that how Petunia got the news? Her husband complained about owls and staring cats all day long and in the morning Petunia found a little tyke on her doorsep. This was how the wizarding world chose to give the awful news to Lily Potter’s big sister: a letter, tucked in beside a baby boy with her sister’s eyes.

There were no Potters left. Petunia was the one who had to arrange the funeral. She had them both buried in Godric’s Hollow. Lily had chosen her world and Petunia wouldn’t steal her from it, not even in death. The wizarding world had gotten her sister killed; they could stand in that cold little wizard town and mourn by the old stone.

(Petunia would curl up with a big mug of hot tea and a little bit of vodka, when her boys were safely asleep, and toast her sister’s vanished ghost. Her nephew called her ‘Tune’ not ‘Tuney,’ and it only broke her heart some days.

Before Harry was even three, she would look at his green eyes tracking a flight of geese or blinking mischieviously back at her and she would not think 'you have your mother’s eyes.’

A wise old man had left a little boy on her doorstep with her sister’s eyes. Petunia raised a young man who had eyes of his very own).

Petunia snapped and burnt the eggs at breakfast. She worked too hard and knew all the neighbors’ worst secrets. Her bedtime stories didn’t quite teach the morals growing boys ought to learn: be suspicious, be wary; someone is probably out to get you. You owe no one your kindness. Knowledge is power and let no one know you have it. If you get can get away with it, then the rule is probably meant for breaking.

Harry grew up loved. Petunia still ran when the letters came. This was her nephew, and this world, this letter, these eyes, had killed her sister. When Hagrid came and knocked down the door of some poor roadside motel, Petunia stood in front of both her boys, shaking. When Hagrid offered Harry a squashed birthday cake with big, kind, clumsy hands, he reminded Harry more than anything of his cousin.

His aunt was still shaking but Harry, eleven years and eight minutes old, decided that any world that had people like his big cousin in it couldn’t be all bad. “I want to go,” Harry told his aunt and he promised to come home.

Keep reading

God I still love reading this, it is so good.

THEY LITERALLY HANG THEM UP TO DRY IN CRYING OH MY GOD

WHY IS THIS NOT MY JOB?!?!

THE NOISE