how in holy fuck do you not like hawaiian pizza i’m seriously gonna call the police
LISTEN UP DICK NERD. THINGS U PUT ON PIZZA INCLUDE: TOMATO, CHEESE, MEAT, SOME VEGGIES (NOT LIKE CARROTS BUT LIKE ONIONS) AND THATS IT. DONT FUCKIN PUT FRUIT ON PIZZA. FUCKIN
brooke tomatoes are fruits
so Hannibal and Will are now Abigail’s dads.
and the fandom explodes
OH MY GOD THIS EPISODE OF HANNIBAL JUST KILLED ME! THE ABIGAIL FEELS AND THE WILL GOING CRAZY FEELS AND OH WILL AND HANNIBAL BEING DADDIES TOGETHER AND THE FUCKING HOMOEROTIC SUBTEXT! This show is going to just destroy me, especially since I just know it can;t end happy, but god am I addicted
HANNIBAL BEING A FATHER, I DIDN’T KNOW THAT I NEEDED IT IN MY LIFE UNTIL NOW!
Oh god Hannibal’s episode was so good tonight. I love how the three of them care about Abigail so much. Alanna looked like she was gonna bitch slap Jack. Will figured it out but he’s keeping it a secret. He totally didn’t deny it when Hannibal said they’re basically daddies now. Hannibal hugged Abigail and it was just the cutest thing ever sfkdshfkdsjfsdkl
Also I loved Will and Freddie’s little sassy snark fest.
Harley asks the real questions.
[Harley Quinn 10 vs Legends of the Dark Knight v2 50]
Harley knows what’s up.
These are important questions.
They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.
See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.
I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
____________ _________ _________ _________
To Whomever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.
Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”
He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.
I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.
Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.
____________ _________ _________ _______
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.
The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.
His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
face into his scruff and hugged him.
“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.
“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.
“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”
Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”
right in the feelings every damn time!
dont even fucking touch me i am crying so hard this is just ugh
Holy shit this is so happy and sad and I just
i remember reading this so long ago, and i just couldn’t get it out of my head for days. :(
i’m fucking hyperventilatin g
omg, I fucking love this weirdo fandom so much, auuugh.
A Mom went to have dinner with her son who lives with his roommate.
During the course of the meal, his mother couldn’t help but notice how handsome his roommate was. She had been suspicious about her sons sexuality but being a good mother she felt that he would let her know if and when the time was right but seeing the two together just made her more curious.
Over the course of the evening, while watching the interaction between the two she wondered even more if there was more here than meets the eye. Her son, sensing his mothers watchfully eye volunteered, “really Mom, I can tell what you’re thinking and you can just get it out of your mind, we are just roommates and nothing more”.
About a week later the roommate remarked, “ever since your mother was here the silver serving platter has been missing, do you think she took it?”
He responded, “Well I’m sure she didn’t but I will email her and ask just to be sure” he sat down and wrote:
I’m not saying you did take the silver platter from the house and I am not saying you didn’t take it but the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
A couple days later he got a response from his mother:
I am not saying that you do sleep with your roommate and I am not saying that you don’t sleep with him and you know I love you and could care less either way but the fact remains that if he was sleeping in his own bed he would have found the platter under his pillow.
When are the two of you coming for dinner?