About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I had a pokemon. Second, there was a part of me - and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be - that wanted to be the very best, like no one ever was. Third, Gary Oak was unconditionally and irrevocably a douchenozzle.
Reblogging for the comment
How old are you?
How long have you been ten?
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TEN
Misty looked at Ash, his breathing still heavy from carrying her on his bike as fast as he could through the long grass outside of Pallet Town.
“You’re eyes are impossibly huge and black,” Misty said. “Your hair is… incredibly pointy, and doesn’t need product. Your face changes size and shape based on your feelings… and sometimes you speak like - like you’re from the 90’s. You never spend money on anything; you don’t go to the bathroom.”
The silence hung there, thick and heavy like a Snorlax blocking the bike path.
“How old are you?” Misty asked, not sure if she wanted to know.
“Ten,” Ash replied, with a slight smirk and an almost amused tone.
Misty new that wasn’t true. Ash wasn’t like the other boys her age. He wasn’t even like her older sisters who ran the gym in Cerulean City. He was wiser and his passion was genuine.
Ash didn’t just want to catch them all, he needed to. He was going to be the best there ever was no matter how long it took, which gave Misty this nagging in the back of her mind. She had to know for sure.
“How long have you been ten?” she asked. Her voice weak, knowing full well the answer could change everything she thought she knew.
“A while…” Ash said. His voice trailing off, as if he were losing himself in a flood of memories.
Misty let out a faint gasp. She knew now. She was certain.
“I know what you are,” she declared, as if whatever had been holding her back from accepting the truth, finally let go of her hand and let her fall right down the Diglett hole.
Ash eyes were alive now, flickering like the flame on a Charmander’s tale.
He stared right into her and said, ”Say it… out loud. Say it.”
Misty’s heart was pounding louder than the thud of a Marowak’s bone club attack.
Despite the now eerily silent meadow, she could barely be heard as she whispered, “Pokemon Trainer.”
OH MY LORD HELP
Headcanon: None of Les Amis can figure out whether Enjolras and Combeferre are just best friends or boyfriends or secretly married, and they constantly go back and forth on it. The only one who knows is Courfeyrac, and he’s not telling
WHERE ARE THE NOTES???!?!?!
This fucking post doesn’t show notes… I think this job is for the Winchesters
forever alone lol
to many notes to show baby
I think we broke it
WE BROKE ITTTT
IM LAUGHING REALLY HARD
- Me in the Hunger Games: What's the wifi code for this arena?
I think this is exactly what would Grantaire and Combeferre’s shelves look like.
New Sherlock trailer
Song: On My Own
On My Own, from Les Misérables, performed by Carrie Hope Fletcher on July 8th, 2013.
I feel like both Combeferre and Courfeyrac edit Wikipedia pages in their spare time, but for vastly different reasons.
The Doctor Games [x]
EIGHT AND A HALF OR SOMETHING
OH MY GOD.
more in the oddly specific “cartoons of Frictional characters playing cards in Hell” series. yes
"Is there anything you would not do for your family?"
Anything to knock junior-high students down a peg or two.
I always find that the best way to dress is somewhere between 'Last of the Time Lords' & 'Wizard trying to be a muggle'
So my outfit today was apparently a big hit
When your parents think you’re dating your best friend
When EVERYBODY thinks you’re dating your friend…
"—a revolutionary approaches the gate to the Republic and meets two National Guardsmen blocking the way. One Guard always tells the truth, and one Guard always lies—"
"—a revolutionary is brought into a hospital with a terrible bayonet wound, bleeding profusely. The only mother he has is the Republic, who grasps his hand as he is rushed into the operating room; but when the surgeon on duty sees the revolutionary—"
"—IF A REVOLUTIONARY THAT WEIGHS 150 LIVRES IS SHOT ATOP A BARRICADE AND TOPPLES TO THE GROUND AT THE SAME MOMENT THAT A JACOBIN FLAG THAT ALSO WEIGHS 150 LIVRES—”
"SERIOUSLY COMBEFERRE NOW IS NOT THE TIME”