scrawny specky git
i'm holey and i know it
warning: this blog may make you cry. tissues are reccomended upon visiting. i am not held responsible for break downs. be advised.

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100 HP facts | head-canon

George to my Fred.

customer(s) roaming weasley's wizard wheezes.
FF Blog



im alive.

Hey! I'm so sorry to hear about your dog, but he sounds like he was a true blessing and I just wanted you to know you have someone sending you some positive thoughts!
ASKED BY Anonymous

he definitely was. thank you<3

terribly sorry you had to put down your dog
ASKED BY Anonymous

me, too. 

i miss my boy so much already
Ever since I could remember, I wanted a dog.
I wanted a dog so bad. 
I would stay up at night just thinking about how much I wanted a dog. About all the kinds of things we would do. About how infinitely awesome my life could be if I just had a dog. I was a weird kid, and beyond just being weird - I have ADHD, and a lot of the symptoms were more evident in my youth than they are now. Point is: I didn’t make friends easily, but boy, could I make bullies. I was miserable. For the most part - I was generally alone. I had rabbits, but they weren’t dogs (and this is not their story), and so I thought up a plan.
If I could show my parents how good I was at taking care of a dog - surely they would get me one! So I made my bed, and then I would make a second, right at the foot of it. And there I would lay this huge golden retriever plush-toy I had, and beside my bed, on the floor, I would put two empty, imaginary dishes. I remember thinking to myself, “This is gonna work! I’m gonna have a dog. Dad’s gonna be so proud of me that I’m going to get a dog.”
I did not get a dog.
Not right away, at least.
By a strange occurrence of events which were, ultimately, some losses: we stepped into a store. This pet store usually had pups in little ring-gates that you could interact with, and lo-and-behold: there was this puppy. He was kind of goofy, kind of small, and his eyes just didn’t shut entirely. He didn’t seem to fit with his litter mates. Which was startlingly like myself. Now, as a dog lover, of course the first thing I did when I saw these guys was basically try to pick every one up, but only this runt dude came to me.
This would later be Patches.
I begged my dad to get him. Dad said no. We left with a new rabbit. Ok, simple enough. Then, dad went back. Brought back another rabbit. Cool, not a puppy, but cool. Then, the rabbits started to fight. Dad went back to get another cage.
And came back with a puppy.
I will always remember the first time I met Patches in his new home. My sister lived with us back then, and we were stretched out on the floor, watching TV. We heard the car, so we had sat up - but no one moved faster to greet this dog than me. This bag of fur and bones just tumbled down the steps, he was so tiny - and he flopped. All on the ground. And my mother said: “Meet Patches!”
I was so excited I took him around the block on six-week-old tiny paws. Tuckered him right out.
My life expanded. I moved away from cruel bullies, and to somewhere I did not know. I experienced heartbreak, and I experienced severe let downs. I experienced abuse and I experienced the fear of what it’s like to nearly lose friends, and then actual lose them. I experienced the hardship of living with someone you think you might love but mistake it for something else. 
And the constant in all of these things is not evident; it’s Patches, who has been like a rock to me. He was always there, when I needed to shove my face somewhere soft and cry. His ears were like velvet, and they always perked when I spoke. He always breathed so loud and when he snored, he shook the floor. He did this thing, when he got excited, where he tap-danced around the house. He loved cheese, though we didn’t love his farts. 
I could tell you everything about him, but we don’t have time for that. The one thing you should know is that he was a good dog. He was so good, even if he took off across the road, and laid on the couch when he wasn’t supposed to, and left half a pie because he couldn’t reach the other side. Those things would never make him a bad dog, not his barking or his knack for eating shit he wasn’t supposed to and then vomiting up. He was a good dog, and he was my friend, and I will miss him every day. I will miss vacuuming the carpet and the stupid cover we had to keep on the couch so his fur wouldn’t get on it. Or his terrible licking habit. I will miss the warmth of his belly against my feet at night, and the way he would literally shove his foot against my ass to get more room.
I will miss his breathing, when it’s late, and I can’t sleep.
Patches was a good dog. And he was loved. And he knows that. I made sure of it.
my sweet boy.

i’m not even sure if anyone remembers me.

but i just.

my dog is dying. and i miss the friends i had here. and i just realized that, talking to someone i had lost contact with, and it’s such a strange thing that my dog dying made me think of it.

If you’d take a second to read (and maybe reblog?), we’d appreciate it.



I know some of you despise when we ask for money, so I want to reassure you that you are under no obligation to give any, you don’t have to reblog this or like it if you don’t support our cause. We are asking because we are hopeful, nothing more and nothing less.

Now I have a story for you.

My partner and I, we met on June 29th, 2012. We met on Tumblr - or, more specifically, through a mutual friend on tumblr. We met and fell for each other so quickly that by October, she was driving 1800 miles from Texas to California to take me from a less-than-desirable home life and to give us a chance to be together.

You know us as Murphy and Dean, and we know you as kindhearted people and so we dare to tell our story.

I left my family and she risked hers by bringing me here so that we could build a life. And we are, and we’re so happy. So happy, in fact, that we’re trying to have a child. We’ve gone to fertility clinics and the process is underway. If all goes well, the procedure will happen as soon as we can afford it. The success rate is only twenty to twenty five percent, but it’s too late to go back now. We need, in total, $800 at the least for the procedure alone, though the bills and medications will rack up to $1500 or more.

We are perfectly stable in our home- a beautiful home, at that- and have one child from a prior relationship that is comfortable and loved. We can care for this child without fear, and we can do the same for the next if we could only get the process done.

We don’t want to ask for donations, but the process is a lot quicker than we anticipated and our bills and car (which is guzzling gas) make it too tight for us to do this on our own. Any little help is appreciated, even just a reblog or word of mouth. Please don’t feel obligated, we know the economy is tough on everyone. We understand that, so even a reblog is welcome. This is Tumblr - this is where we started, and we’re hoping you can help us even more. We figured if there’s one place that might be sympathetic to our cause, this is it. Donations can be made here. Thank you for anything you may do. 

YO HOLLA TUMBLR ya you folks with the faces behind the screens that are probably wibbling a lip like me because this is beautiful

read, cherish, do the thing. if you can’t do the thing, spread the word.

i have 12000 of you. c’mon guys. help the thing get around <3