Bro Valued Becoming His Scale-sona More Than His Daughter

Instant Karma

word of the day: “woowoo”

definition:

For those who can't tell, I based Luka's clothes off of Jet, for this crime I had to draw him twice.

The band is now called Pigmy Puma Section

Marinette | Alya | Nino | Adrien | Kagami | Julerose

we really need to push this like we did with mineblr so.

PLEASE if you are writing about an smp on ao3 JUST use the smp tag, not the minecraft tag. right now its literally fucking impossible to use the minecraft tag to find fics about the actual fucking game and there are people who are very frustrated about that

Me too :)

but I haven't had them at the same time yet

Not only pineapple pizza eater but also a mushrooms hater?

UNSTANNED. FOREVER.

Long ago, the cabbages were sold in harmony. Then, everything changed when The Avatar attacked.

A boy holds a sack of cabbages at a vegetable wholesale market in Jinan, Shandong province, China, on July 13, 2014. (Reuters/Stringer)

Fanfiction isn’t written for you, it’s shared with you.

You walk along the path as you have many times before, the cracked concrete familiar beneath your feet.On one side of you is the cliff; the cliff is familiar too. Numerous cracks run up the pale face; they greet you as you pass them by, an old friend. You counted them, once. Sometimes moss spills out of the rifts caused by time and bad weather, bringing life to the otherwise empty stone. Scraggly plants cling to it's crumbling surface.On your other side there are long stretches of grass, punctuated by trees. In the distance you see the figure of someone with a dog that bounds faithfully alongside them. You smile and continue walking. The sky above you is cloudy and grey. The weak sunlight permeates the air around you and lights your way. It's cold. You wish you bought gloves. You hear chirping above you, and when you look up, you see them. Peering over the nest at you, the chicks ruffle their downy grey feathers and call for their mother. You continue to walk onward. You can see the old abandoned railway, upon its throne of pebbles and stones. No train has run along that track in decades, it lays silent now. When you finally arrive it is a welcome sight; the walk here had tired your bones and you need to rest. You are relieved to see the familiar grainy wood framed by the cold black metal. A brass plaque bears her name.

You lay down the bouquet you carried here and you sit down and remember. You watch and are content.