All right my wonderful people, these two gorgeous babes desperately need our help.
These are the two from a reblog the other day located in Leesburg, Fl 34748. They are in need of homes!
Some background information about them that we’ve seen so far:
Ruby (black) :
This once mother is a very sweet girl who can’t be much more than 5 years old at the very most. (based solely on my own personal experience with pits and dogs in general.) She’s eager to learn and please and has a thing for toys. She can be a little rowdy once you first get home, but soon settles and is happy to just lay next to you and sleep.
With the right amount of love and dedication to training she could make an amazing family member.
Delilah (brindle) :
This little girl seems to be a few years younger than Ruby, possibly in the 1-2 year range but is just as eager to please and learn. She doesn’t jump like Ruby does but does have some shyness and skiddish tendencies from what we assume was physical abuse.
She is an adorable sweetheart who just wants to love and be loved. She also seems to be the quieter of the two.
Ideally we’d hate to see this pair separated because they’ve so clearly bonded and are showing some separation anxiety from one another, but if the right homes for both of them are with two different families then arrangements can be made.
I’m sorry this post is so long but please, if you’ve made it this far share this with everyone and let’s get these two their furever homes.
Also, if you’re in the area and would like to meet them or know of someone who would take good care of them give a shout to myself or @promisesofamazing and we’ll make things happen!
I will be sharing updates as the pair gets checked out by a vet and temperaments are tested.
As of right now we see potential for them to be good with children and potential to be good with other dogs given the right introductions and handling, as Ruby has shown what could be aggression to at least one of the smaller dogs in the home.
Updates will happen hopefully every two/three days.
Why is it that one of the biggest arguments against Wonder Woman is the fact that there was a romance subplot? Like honestly? It was barely even a subplot. First and foremost, Steve and Diana were friends. He helped her navigate a world she didn’t understand, but her motivations were always entirely hers. And secondly, literally almost every other action movie on this goddamn planet has a romance subplot, except the difference is they had male leads and female love interests, who are almost always damsels in distress. Diana’s romance with Steve never once made her out as someone Steve had to save, or even vice versa. They were friends and colleagues with the utmost respect for each other. No one makes this big of a fuss in male-led action movies with a romance subplot. People just take it as it is because it’s the ‘status quo’ but in order for a female-led action movie to have any merit, the woman shouldn’t have a love interest because that diminishes her strength as a woman. Well, sirs and madames, kindly fuck off. Just because Hollywood has conditioned you to believe that a woman in love is weak and submissive doesn’t actually mean it’s true. Love has always been the driving force of Diana’s moral fiber and strength. If you think her falling in love is somehow an inherent weakness of hers then you clearly don’t understand Wonder Woman to begin with.
For people struggling to understand what this all means, it just means that Harry’s management company, Full Stop Management, is merging with Irving Azoff’s (a known powerhouse manager in the music industry) company.
Basically, this means that Full Stop just got some real power behind it, in the form of a father aligning with his son.
Larries have been predicting for a LONG ass time that Irving would play a role in a managerial transition for the boys. Right now we have solid confirmation of that for at least Harry. Most of us believe that when One Direction comes back, they will do so under the guidance of Irving and Jeff Azoff.
Hey guys, I honestly can’t believe I’m in a position to make this kind of post but this is where we are.
This is an old friend of mine I knew growing up. That black and white photo is a picture of the two of us all the way back in kindergarten, happy as clams on our way to a girl scout meeting. When I knew her she was always very sweet and quiet, but also had the best sense of humor and was incredibly talented. We were good friends in grade school, and played basketball together later on in middle school. Later on, I was best friends with her neighbor as well. I haven’t seen her in years, despite attending the same college, but she is a huge part of who I was growing up.
Her name is Mary Carmen Nichols. She’s 19 years old and lives in Vestavia Hills, Alabama. She currently attends school in downtown Birmingham. Earlier this morning, her parents found her missing from her home. Both her cell phone and her car were still there. I’ve known her and her family for a very long time and they are all incredibly wonderful people. She would never just run away, not like this. If you have any information to offer, please please please call the number from the article.
Even if you don’t know her or you don’t live in the area, I’m begging you to please signal boost this. Please.
Okay, so here I am, an innocent lurker, having just found this blog, when I see: "what if the skywalkers were cthulu-type monsters." excuse me??? please elaborate you just wrote that and nothing else im dying ex p la i n y o ur s el f
The Force is everything that ever was and ever will be, every storm and every silence, the hunting krayk dragon and cowering bantha calf: it is huge, all-consuming, completely inhuman. How, then, could its children be anything short of monstrous? (Wonders, yes. But monsters all the same.)
Anakin Skywalker is boy-shaped, but Obi Wan cannot bear to look at him.
A clarification: he can look at him with his human eyes; but he must clamp down the extra eyes his Force-sensitivity gives him, because when he doesn’t – well. The first time he met the boy he hadn’t closed those eyes; he’d open them, wide and curious and seen –
teeth and claws and roiling shadows, a slipslide of features and starfire, the white blur of warpspeed and it hurts –
Anakin Skywalker is the son of the Force, half human and half something extraordinary. There’s a reason the Jedi don’t like him, why Yoda mistrusts him; they all have to close their extra eyes around him; and even when they’re white-knuckled with effort, clamping down so the Force can’t so much as whisper to them (and that hurts Jedi, of course it does, it runs counter to all their training about opening up and trusting in the Force) and even then they still feel the velvet quiver of unseen limbs over their skin.
And more. And worse. When he is angry – which is often – his shadow warps into something awful, and even the least Force-sensitive being quails at the profound wrongness of the sight. His features warp and melt, teeth spiralling out from his pupils, his mouth cracks open wide, his tongue growing scales and feathers and catching fire and he smiles, oh how he smiles and –
nothing like him should exist and
and you blink, lose the moment, he’s just a young man glowering at you, and his shadow is the same, but the memory of that horror is seared into the back of your brain.
It is no surprise that Padme dies in childbed.
The first child’s cry makes Obi Wan’s bones rattle. It – you could not call it anything but an it – is a twisting, squirming mess of light and dark. There’s a wing, a thorned branch: you cannot focus on it. You cannot pin a shape to it. Obi Wan wants to run away, run and never look back. But the Med Droid is offering it to him; and it is a child, of a sort; and Obi Wan takes it, and it coalesces into a soft pink baby girl. He places it – her – against Padme’s white breast. Padme cradles it. “She’s beautiful.”
The second is just the same: pushed out like any human baby, but a roling mess of lightening and thick syrupy cloud, one moment tentacled and the next furred, pure power condensed. Obi Wan takes it in his arms and it solidifies into another fat baby, small and squalling.
He’s not like the other babies, Luke Skywalker. He’s a funny one. When he smiles, you have the sudden absurd impulse that he’s got too many teeth for his face. His hair is corn-gold, but when you see it out of the corner of your eye you swear that it isn’t hair at all, but fire and teeth. Looking at him too long is like staring into the sun.
The other children are scared of him, Behu says to Owen, once. And Owen says: children always know. And Behu says: he isn’t a bad kid. Owen says: he’s a wonder. And that’s the problem.
Jabba’s goons go to the Lars farm to collect water once. Only once. They return to Jabba’s palace gibbering nonsense, with their eyes burned out. Both mumble something about there’s something wrong with the boy and then jump into the ragnar pit.
Don’t do that again, says Owen, but he hugs his nephew all the same, pulls him close, kisses his temple. He feels something hot-cold run over his spine, like something far larger than the child is trying to embrace him back. That night, Behu runs her fingers over the new white scartissue on her husband’s back, and says, he’s a good kid. Owen says, I know.
If I was there I could have saved them, Luke says to Ben Kenobi, years later, and in that moment he has a thousand thousand eyes and all of them are burning, and he has no limbs but a dozen wings bearing him aloft, and each feather is molten gold and each feather drips blood. Ben thinks of Anakin, screws his Force-sensitivity closed. Luke is a monster. A wonder. But first and foremost he is a boy, and he is grieving.
Ben Kenobi holds him while he weeps.
When Leia comes, she turns into a celestial horror with more teeth than Han cares to count. “Huh,” he says, after their first time. She’s so little in his arms, but so vast. He feels something gentle his back. He says, “Next time, I’ll wear a blindfold, princess. Don’t want to blind me, do you? Then I won’t be able to see when you’re doing stupid shit.” She titters, presses her face into the curve of his neck.
I really like the idea that the Hales are kinda enamored with Stiles and he's just as drawn to them. Like if the pack was still alive would he be giving Talia headaches bc cousins and other relatives are asking if that boy is single, and if he bothers Talia so much they can take him off her hands, maybe an arranged marriage would be a good idea, you know for pack stability. Stiles has no idea, he's just gotten used to the Hales being pretty and weird, besides he's got his eyes on a local Hale.
And all these people wondering aloud to Talia if they should open negotiations with Stiles’s father, and Derek’s scowl is getting deeper and deeper and deeper.
At last Talia tells them all to back off, and that Stiles’s father has already opened and closed negotiations, and Stiles’s “bride price” (an outdated concept but not quite dead in supernatural circles) has been paid.
“Oh,” says cousin Henry from Minnesota. “What was the price?”
“Three cheetos and a Matchbox car,” Talia says.
Henry’s jaw drops. “The fuck?”
Talia puts a hand on Derek’s arm, and Derek smirks to himself.
“Well,” Talia says, “Derek was only eight when he fronted at the Sheriff’s Station demanding Stiles’s hand in marriage, and that was all he had in his pockets at the time.”