cat in a diaper

Oh God I got into watching My Cat From Hell and there’s this episode where apart from having a cat, this lady has two dogs on who she puts diapers, feeds them from a baby bottle and a fork and takes them out in a stroller. This is Jackson Galaxy’s face when she tells him she uses the stroller so that the dogs don’t get germs from walking in the street.

I can’t stop laughing. He has to deal with so much weirdness.

“Ted... ever wonder why some words are funnier than others?”

Ted the Animator: “…no?”

Carl the Animator: “Like, take ‘mule deer.’ Why are mule deer funnier than most other animals?”

Ted the Animator: “Are they really, though?”

Carl the Animator: “Yes! I’ve done a lot of mule deer thinking, lately.”

Ted the Animator: “…that’s a sentence you don’t hear every day.”

Carl the Animator: “Take a look at one. Visually, at best, they’re just marginally-funnier than a regular deer… but the phrase ‘mule deer’? That puts it over the top.”

Ted the Animator: “I’m not sold. Give me an example.”

Carl the Animator: “Well, let’s say someone is advertising hot sauce. Saying it’s ‘hot enough to kill a deer?’ Not funny.”

Ted the Animator: “Nope. Not at all.”

Carl the Animator: “Now, ‘hot enough to kill a mule deer?

Ted the Animator: “…that’s kinda funny. Wait, why is that funny?”

Carl the Animator: “I KNOW, RIGHT?!”

Ted the Animator: “…after googling them, you find phrases like ‘1000+ images about mule deer on Pinterest,’ and somehow that’s so bizarre it’s definitely funny.”

Carl the Animator: “Now, try ‘2017 mule deer calendar.’”

Ted the Animator: “…it might just be because it’s really late at night… but that’s freakin’ hilarious to me right now.”

Carl the Animator: “’Mule deer’ just gets funnier the more times you say it.”

Ted the Animator: “Is it because it’s so specific? A combination of words you hear independently, but almost never together?”

Carl the Animator: “I’m still tryin’ to analyze it all. There are also inherently-funny single words, like ‘Popemobile.’”

Ted the Animator: “That’s juxtaposition, alright. Combine the pious-sounding word “Pope’ and the silly suffix ‘-mobile,’ and you get instant comedy.” 

Carl the Animator:And, it doesn’t hurt that the Popemobile always looks ridiculous, too.”

Ted the Animator: “Phrases like ‘potato juice’ use juxtaposition similarly.”

Carl the Animator: “…ewwwwwwwwwwww.”

Ted the Animator: “Gross, certainly… but that moment when your brain processes that yes, it is in fact a real thing you could theoretically acquire, triggers humor responses.”

Carl the Animator: “…of course, we are forgetting what is quite possibly the funniest phrase known to man.”

Ted the Animator: “Hold that thought, I’m on my last swig of coffee.”

Carl the Animator:…cat diaper.

Ted the Animator: *spittake*

Carl the Animator: “Sorry. I had to.”

Ted the Animator: “…you’re the worst, and cat diapers are the worst, and I’d scowl at you but my mouth hurts from smiling too much.”

Carl the Animator: “That’s the magic of mule deer and cat diapers, Ted.”

Why I love Amy Santiago

- So smart that skipped 4th grade

- Is a notary 

- Failed  recess in second grade : “Teachers need a break too, Amy”

- In high school was voted “most appropriated” 

- In her magnet school was voted “Most likely to befriend a school administrator”

- Goes to an adult puzzle camp every summer

- Went to a math conference called “Funky Cats and their Feisty Stats”

- Has ~ possibly ~ worn a diaper during a test 

- Plays the french horn

- Perfect at lip-reading

- Has a blog of her fav laminated stuff 

- Took that sudoku cruise

- Also smart, badass, competitive, kind and the greatest dork around

Fancy Seeing You Here

A little oneshot I wrote a while ago. Hope you enjoy!

Harry and Ginny run into the two people Harry least wanted to see on their first date. As if he wasn’t nervous enough.
Harry regrets telling James anything ever

It was a cool October day and the students at Hogwarts were buzzing with excitement due to the Hogsmeade trip scheduled that day. Amidst the crowd of excited students, however, was one student who had been dreading this visit for weeks: Harry Potter.

It’s not that Harry didn’t like Hogsmeade; he loved buying new pranks at Zonko’s and enjoying a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks as much as the next kid. No, what the young man dreaded most about the visit was the date he had to go on.

After skirting around his feelings for her all summer, Harry had finally plucked up the courage to ask Ginny Weasley on a date, much to the chagrin of Ron (her older brother and Harry’s best friend). Harry had been worrying for weeks over whether or not the date would be a complete disaster.

What if he tried holding the door and hit her on accident? What if when he tried to pull her chair out for her, he pulled it too far and she fell? What if she got bored of him?

Oh, Merlin. What if he forgot money and she was forced to pay for everything? None of these imaginary scenarios, however, compared to the fate that awaited the two Gryffindor students.

Harry finished getting dressed and double-ok triple-checked that he had enough money to pay for whatever he or Ginny wanted. Checking his hair one more time in the mirror, he headed down to the common room to find Ginny chatting with another girl in her year Harry knew to be called Sarafine. Ginny politely excused herself, however, when she noticed Harry coming down from the dormitories.

“Finally. You were taking a while up there and it led me to wondering which one of us is the girl here. Tell me, Potter. Was it your makeup that took you so long?” Ginny teased once she caught up to him.

“Actually,” Harry retorted. “It was figuring out what shirt to wear. I just couldn’t find the right one to match my eyes.” He accompanied this comment with an over exaggerated fluttering of his eyelashes.

The two chuckled and Harry relaxed at the light banter, enjoying how easy the two got along. Harry forgot why he was so nervous in the first place as he tentatively took Ginny’s hand and led her out of the portrait hole. He tried to steady his breathing when her hand tightened slightly in his.

Once the pair arrived at Hogsmeade, they spent some time at Honeyduke’s (where Harry insisted on buying Ginny anything she wanted) and, after Harry noticed Ginny shivering a bit, they spent some time in Gladrag’s where Harry bought Ginny a new scarf and jumper.

(He may or may not have gotten a kiss on the cheek as thanks and he may or may not have blushed at the contact)

The two walked around for a while, talking about nothing and everything with a bit of shameless flirting thrown in for good measure. At around six, Ginny suggested they go to the Three Broomsticks for a drink and a bite to eat. Once inside, Ginny went to find a booth for them while Harry went to fetch them some drinks.

On his way back to the booth Ginny had chosen, Harry was confused to see a head of messy black hair identical to his own. Dread set in Harry’s stomach as he let out a list of expletives. Ginny smiled and waved her date over as the stranger turned to greet him.

“Hey, son. Fancy meeting you here,” James Potter smirked at his son  "I was just talking to this lovely lady here about how your date is going.“ Harry never regretted anything more than telling his parents about his first date with the youngest Weasley. “Wow, you didn’t have to get me a drink, Harry,” James said, taking the two butterbeer Harry had been holding and offering one to Ginny with a wink. Ginny started to giggle but quickly covered it up by taking a sip of her drink.

Harry took a seat next to Ginny while simultaneously shooting a death glare at his father that could have given the killing curse a run for its money. “Dad, what are you doing here?” he asked through gritted teeth. The young boy calmed down slightly when Ginny delicately took his hand in hers under the table.

“Well, when I heard my son was going on a date, I was so proud. But then, I realized that you have yet to fully master the ways of the Potter charm. Naturally, I felt it was my duty to help you so you don’t ruin your chances with the girl you’re so crazy about-”

“Dad, please,” Harry interrupted.

“And who you go on and on and on about. I swear all I hear about is Ginny this and Ginny that. Poor kid is completely and utterly infatuated,” James continued, ignoring his son’s protests.

“A Potter so obsessed with a red headed Gryffindor that he can’t stop talking about her? Sounds familiar, eh Prongsy?” a deep voice called out. Harry groaned and slouched in his seat at the sound of his godfather’s voice. “Sorry I’m late,” Sirius Black started. “The line for the loo was terribly long. What’s going on?”

James moved over to allow room for Sirius to sit as he filled his best friend in. “Just helping young Harry on his date here seeing as he has yet to fully master the use of the Potter charm.” At this, Ginny snorted and Harry let out what must have been his fiftieth groan in the span of two minutes. Sirius called over Madame Rosmerta and, after flirting for a bit, ordered two more drinks for Harry and himself.

Harry sat low in his seat, mortified at the story his father was telling about how to two got a bit carried away with a bottle of firewhisky on Harry’s birthday (which Lily thankfully never found out about) and how Harry went on a long spiel of all of Ginny’s best qualities, ending with a quite embarrassing poem about her freckles.

Ginny was fully immersed in the embarrassing tales being recounted to her by Harry and his godfather. “Now, I must know. Has there been any more poems since that incident?” Ginny asked, trying and failing to conceal the smirk playing at her lips.

“Sadly, no poems, my dear,” James said grimly. “But,” Sirius interrupted, “There were so many letters. All of them stating how beautiful you had gotten and how he needed our expert skills in wooing you.”

“Padfoot, those letters were for mum!” Harry cried indignantly. Sirius and James shared a knowing look before James said, “What’s mine is hers and what’s hers is mine, including mail. Plus, your mother is not an expert in the use of the Potter charm so of course I was the only one who could properly help you in wooing your lady love.”

“And I just tag along simply to embarrass you,” Sirius added.

“You know, I think you two have done more than enough to help. Mum must be so worried that you’ve been gone so long and we should really be heading back to school. Maybe you should leave. Ya know, now,” Harry mumbled.

“Alright, alright. I know when my presence is not welcomed. C'mon, James-y. Let’s leave Prongs Jr. alone with his special lady friend so they can get some quality snogging time,” Sirius sighed dramatically, causing the two young teens across from him to blush profusely.

“Right you are, Snuffles!” James started. “But, what encounter of meeting your significant other’s parents is complete without-”

“Dad, don’t you dare!”

“Baby photos!”

Harry groaned and wished he could melt into the floor right at that moment. Ginny, on the other hand, was excited to see what pictures James had brought along and her face lit up like a Christmas tree when James pulled a stack of wizard photos from inside his cloak. He promptly laid the pictures out on the table and pointed to each picture, explaining the story behind them to a giggling Ginny, a smirking Sirius, and a mortified Harry.

“Here we have Harry’s first room ride. The kid was always destined for Quidditch. He got the athletic genes from me, of course. Oh, Harry’s first steps! Lily had just changed his diaper when Harry spotted the cat and got up to start chasing it around. Ah, here’s a personal favorite of mine! Harry’s first bath. Look at his little bum!”

“Would you look at the time! We must really be heading back to Hogwarts,” Harry said hastily. “It was great catching up with you guys. I’ll owl you. Make sure to send mum my love. C'mon Gin.” And with that, Harry grabbed her hand and made a mad dash for the front doors of the pub while trying to hid his red face that could rival that of a Weasley’s.

“It was nice to meet you Mr. Black and Mr. Potter! I’ll make sure to write you, I’d love to hear that poem sometime!” Ginny called over her shoulder before she was pulled out the door and onto the streets of Hogsmeade.

Harry ran a gab through his hair and began to ramble aimlessly. “I’m so sorry about them, Gin. Honestly, I had no idea they would be her. And bloody hell, the baby pictures. I really am sorry. Today was going so well and we were having a great time and then those two show up and ruin it because they just had to embarrass me! Next Hogsmeade weekend, I promise-”

Harry was unable to continue because Ginny, who had been fondly watching him talk, had grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him down for a kiss. The green eyed boy immediately placed one hand in her hair and the other on her hip, sighing into her mouth as he forgot all about his bothersome father and godfather. Just as Harry had started to deepen the kiss, he was suddenly knocked over. As he sat on the ground, he looked around for what could have caused his sudden fall.

A few feet away from the couple, Harry noticed a shaggy, black haired dog wink at him before running off. He was just thinking of creative ways to get revenge on his godfather for interruptingpozzibly the best moment in his 16 years of life when a smug voice broke him out of his scheming thoughts.

“Wow, Potter. Only one date and you’ve already fallen for me.”

Harry smiled up at Ginny as she offered him a hand. “What can I say, Weasley. You just have that effect on me,” he smirked, taking her hand and standing up. He decided that he could forget about the Three Broomsticks incident for now.

“Now, about that poem…”

Or maybe not.

Mind Over Matter

Read it on Archives:

*I was in a mood™ when I wrote this.*

There is…something holding his throat.

Holding is actually a pretty loose term; in actuality, something—or someone—is grabbing it with an intense grip, enough that it makes him lose the breath of air that he gasps into his lungs. It hasn’t completely stolen his airways yet, but he can just feel that pair of thumbs pressing harder and harder into the column of his neck and, he’s not sure why, but he knows he deserves it.


A familiar voice, but faint past the blood rushing through his ears. Oikawa can feel the way his body picks up with adrenaline pricking through his veins; he knows his body knows that it’s dying—or going to die—and it’s trying to fight back. Oikawa is too, trying to fight back at the invisible force that he can’t quite see—the room is dark, pitch black openness that he can’t even tell who his assailant is—but his wiggling and squirming warrant nothing but a tighter grip and the next time he tries to suck in for air, he’s struggling.

Oikawa blinks several times, tries to get his vision adjusted; tries to see who his killer could be—he might as well know if he were going to die by their hands—but all he can hear are the linger whispers of his name, so light and airy that it almost sounds like he’s imagining it. It kills him because it’s said in that familiar tone, but he can’t place the name…!


He gasps.


The picture of the person in front of him becomes so clear that it’s crystal. He sees Iwaizumi—can make out the ridges of his nose, the contours of his cheek, his frown, that furrow in his brow, everything that just screams Iwa-chan, his Iwa-chan!—and he can even feel the familiar callouses on his hands that are on his neck—

And that’s when it registers that Iwa-chan is the one holding his throat.

Choking—Iwa-chan’s choking him.

Oikawa thrashes immediately, startled cry more of a wheezing breath as he can’t suck in enough air to put voice behind it. It’s terrifying—he’s scared! Iwa-chan why…? But there’s no emotion portrayed on the other boy’s face. He can’t even find that hint of annoyance or that tiny frown he sees when he knows he’s really fucked it up with Iwaizumi; he is, for a lack of a better words, dead, even though Oikawa’s now the one not breathing.

He shuts his eyes because he’s afraid—not afraid of dying, which is something that should have happened years ago; no, he’s afraid because Iwaizumi is going to kill him. His best friend, his Hajime, after all of these years he was finally done carrying the luggage that came with being with Oikawa’s friend—maybe Iwaizumi was done enough that he, like all the others, didn’t think he should exist.

Oikawa stops fighting; he has no reason to keep going, no reason to fight Iwaizumi like this.

His consciousness rolls in and out—his body is burning. His chest aches like somethings missing and he isn’t sure if it’s the lack of air or watching his best friend try to kill him.

He doesn’t have another gasp to give; his air has all but run out inside him for too long. His eyes roll back and he knows this is it, this is it, this is it—

It’s Iwaizumi’s scream that brings him back to reality.

Without even a cohesive thought, Oikawa releases his own telekinetic grip on his own neck, allowing the air to rush back into his body like a swift punch; he sputters, he chokes, and it almost feels worse to be breathing again than it did to lose all of it in the first place.

Past the violent rush of blood and the intense ringing sound piercing through his psyche, he can hear voices talking to him—his mother talking through one of her dreams in the next bedroom, the neighbor next door wondering if he should get up and change the baby’s diaper or wake his wife, the stray cat on the roof’s thoughts on getting the bird—

His telepathy is working a mile a minute and he can’t find the strength or energy to try to control it. Oikawa groans, bringing trembling hands to his ears to try and block out the incessant noise—it’s too much, oh god, why couldn’t he just have died, why couldn’t he be dead—

Hey, a gentle voice—he knows that voice, that’s Iwa-chan’s voice—speaks in his mind, I’m right here Tooru…I’ve got you. Try to take deep breaths. Just listen to my thoughts, okay? Don’t focus on anything but me…

Oikawa blinks once and tries to focus more on the soothing talking in his thoughts.

When Iwaizumi tells him to take a breath, he does.

When Iwaizumi tells him to release the breath, he does.

When Iwaizumi explains that he’s going to move his head into his lap, Oikawa lets him. Lets him start dabbing tissues to his nose after Iwaizumi explains that it’s bleeding again.

He can’t help it, but he does make the smallest whimpers when Iwaizumi tilts his chin—his throat hurts to even think about, let alone touch; he already knows he’s going to have some nasty bruising and vaguely he wonders if the marks will be worse than last time.

“Don’t think about.”

Iwaizumi’s voice surprises him; Oikawa hadn’t realized he’d created a link between them so Iwaizumi could hear his thoughts too.

“I know you didn’t mean to make one without asking. It’s fine, it’s not overwhelming like last time.”

Oikawa makes a noise and tries to pick up his head—he needed to break the link, he didn’t want to flood Iwa’s mind too…

“Shh…don’t worry. We’re fine. You can keep your mind calm, I know you can. You’re not going to hurt me…”

Now if only we could get you to stop hurting yourself…

The thought slips in Iwa’s brain and Oikawa knows he isn’t meant to hear it; there’s a lot of things he’s never supposed to hear but he does, because of this stupid, worthless power—

“Stop. Stop trying to think like that. This power is a part of you Oikawa…actually no, we aren’t going to focus on this right now. We’re focusing on you and the first thing we need to do is get your medication. Is it still in the medicine cabinet down stairs?”

Oikawa opens his mouth to respond and it’s right about then that his mother comes scurrying into the room in her blue silk robe with hair askew, looking like she’d been woken suddenly from a dead sleep.

“Is he okay?!” Of course her empath powers are going wild now; she always could sense when he was suffering like this.

He tries to open his mouth again, but Iwaizumi answers for him instead in that calm, everything is going to be okay voice of his, “He needs his medicine and a glass of water if you don’t mind, Auntie. I think his nosebleed has stopped for now.”

His mom leaves without another word and Oikawa watches her go almost listlessly.

You don’t deserve all the trouble I bring you.

He rolls his eyes up because he knows Iwaizumi’s heard it, he sees that pinched look in his brow and that purse in his lips when he thinks he’s being too hard on himself. To his surprise, Iwaizumi doesn’t give him another lecture on how he shouldn’t be thinking this badly to himself. Instead, he leans down and places a chaste kiss to his forehead, gently resting them together.

Love you Tooru. Is what his voice says in his head.

You shouldn’t. He thinks back immediately because he really can’t help it.

“I do anyways,” Iwaizumi returns, this time out loud, “I really love you, Tooru.”

Iwaizumi picks his head up suddenly as if he’s sensed something, giving Oikawa’s face a once over. He quickly reaches for one of the boxes of tissues near the bed and starts dabbing at his bleeding nose again, trying to soak up all the blood.

Oikawa doesn’t know where the strength comes from, but he finally manages to shut out the link between him and his best friend. Iwaizumi makes a concerned noise when he does, patting his cheeks a few times when Oikawa grows drowsy from the extra energy being expelled.

“C’mon Tooru, just stay awake a bit more. Take one of your capsule locks at least.”

Oikawa looks to him almost apathetically, why do you even bother?

Oikawa knows for a fact that the link has been broken between them; he knows because he can’t feel Hajime like he can when they are connect—a strong force by his side or the safety net holding behind back—so he doesn’t expect it when Hajime, again, leans down—this time to kiss his lips—and tell him with all the seriousness and surety he can muster:

“Because I love you, Tooru.” He says it vocally and within his mind that Oikawa’s still unwillingly reading.

Oikawa blinks and he doesn’t understand why, but he almost wants to laugh.

He wonders how many times Hajime will say that before it starts to mean something.

kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls  asked:

Bucky reads all the parent-to-be books of course and practices changing diapers. One day you come home and there’s diapers on all the plush animals he’s bought for baby. The cat rushed past you sporting one. And the watermelon you bought the day before? Yup, it’s clad in a diaper. “Bucky, it’s getting a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” You state wide-eyed when you catch him putting a diaper on the dog.

oh my god yes and you swear you see your cat outside with a diaper on 

Daddy Wednesday™

Killua Vs. Arryn (Commission)

Commission #1, Part 1

My very first commission comes to you in the form of a three-panel comic strip about Killua from Hunter X Hunter having a run in with a young boy named Arryn with powers not yet encountered by the poor overconfident assassin. Arryn has the power to completely halt someone’s ability to use nen and is an expert at catching people off guard with both his taunts and his demeanor as a young child.

In the first panel, he’s calling Killua out for wearing diapers. He doesn’t wear diapers of course but the notion that he could be being shouted out loud like that is enough to make him blush and scream even louder that he doesn’t. This backfires because there’s a ton of people around at this public venue and they all can hear them.

In the second panel, we’ve seen the fallout from the antagonistic behavior from the boy as Killua has been subdued with the straps of his backpack tying his arms behind him and with his yellow Chocolate Robot boxers being wedgied by Arryn after a pantsing. Arryn finds he’s not wearing any diapers but does notice a pair of cat themed underoos underneath these already childish boxers.

In the third panel, Arryn has tied Killua to the pole outside of the Carnival Ice-Cream shop with his pants, dumped a full on banana split ice-cream dish on top of his head, pulled his boxers off and put it over top his head, allowing the substance to leak out from the top, and is now pulling back his underoos to dump more ice cream down the back of them. All while out in public in front of who knows how many kids enjoying their day.

Hope you enjoy this.