feeling sick because of it

Thanks for not posting my post asshole tumblr. Looking okay, feeling horrible. Had the worst evening yesterday. I’ve gotten urinary infection again and yesterday it got so painful 😖 it ended up with me lying on the bathroom floor, crying and shaking and me feeling sick and dizzy because of the pain. I was so close to ask baby to call the ambulance boat. I feel better today but the body hasn’t recovered fully from the crazy breakdown. My friends told me to go the doctor but I don’t really want that. I don’t like the doctor and I have antibiotics for the infection so I’ll go on with this. See what happens, I’m okay now so 🙌🏼

10

Don’t forget Gorillaz fans, Jamie Hewlett exist! He made all you’re favorite band members come to life in the music videos, shorts, ect! He continues drawing them countless times and works day and night to give you new content with the band members! So please appreciate him!!! ❤❤❤

zoerussle  asked:

These crossovers are amazing! I think kid also disguises as women sometimes, would he ever be bridgette?

(previous installment; 2DPV Ladybug/Magic Kaito crossover)

KID very much does disguise as women! bridgette might be trickier for him because of her height, but i’m sure he’d find some way around that (stealthily putting lifts in everyone else’s shoes?)

felix doesn’t kick the suspicious bridgette in the face like bri did to the fake felix, but he gets a heavy sense of unease when she turns down spending time with him (after being his diligent stalker for the entire school year so far)

he brushes it off and welcomes the reprieve - bridgette can do whatever she wants, right? so what if she’s suddenly decided she isn’t interested in felix any more; isn’t that a good thing? - but deep down in his chat noir bones he knows something weird is going on.

anonymous asked:

I just got out of surgery and feeling a little weird and in pain. Would you do me the honour of drawing some recovery Bokuroos? I totally understand if not. Have a nice day!

He tried Anon… he tried.

sometimes it all just hits you like a train. all the memories, all the feelings, all the inside jokes. you could be sitting in a library, reading some book for university, or even walking to your best friend’s place. in that moment time just stops and you remember every single kiss and every single touch. remember how you first met and how you had the infamous butterflies when he took your hand in his for the first time. all of a sudden you remember whole conversations you two had, and you can even hear the exact words he used to tell you that he likes you.

sometimes everything that once was, runs through your veins again. it makes you stop whatever it is you’re doing for a moment, because it makes you feel physically sick. it makes you feel as if you’re suffocating, and even your heart seems to stop for a second.

but the next thing you know, you’re breathing just fine again and you’re telling yourself to keep it together.

- e.s. // aftereffects.

4

“Guess it runs in the family.”

Yuri on Festival voice drama (detailed report)

I went to watch the next-day viewing of yesterday’s Yuri on Festival event, and this time I took notes for the drama so I’ll write a more detailed summary, also because this one isn’t going to be sold on DVD. I believe other people have probably written reports too, but in cases such as this I think “the more the merrier” because it’s not recorded so it’s better to have more accounts. Also, now you’ll start seeing more Japanese reports & art too. Most people were keeping quiet out of consideration for the ones who could only watch the viewing and didn’t want spoilers.

Official title of the drama: “Fundoshi da yo!!! Sekai Metsubou Daipinchi Hasetsu Kunchi Spiritual!!” which roughly translates to “Fundoshi!!! The world is in danger of being destroyed. Hasetsu Kunchi Spiritual!!”

It was in 3 parts, separated by game and information corners.
I hope it’s not too confusing, but especially the last part is impossible to summarize decently because they talked a lot and I couldn’t possibly take note of everything, not to mention what they say is mostly crazy stuff, lol. For some parts and lines I double-checked looking at other Japanese comments online. If something is not clear feel free to send me an ask.

Continue under “keep reading”.

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Ear Biscuits: Uncut

So Ear Biscuits got released at midnight eastern time last night, and my trusty podcast app, Overcast (not a sponsor, but seriously, best podcast app ever), immediately downloaded it for me and gave me a notification for it as I got in bed. I caved and listened to the first few seconds just to see if it really was the episode or if it was I don’t know, a blank file? This is what I heard.

The episode that was released about 20 minutes AFTER this one does not start like this. I recorded all the way to the actual episode opener, though my version doesn’t have the intro music playing over it.

Sorry about the audio quality, I tried to reduce the noise as much as possible. What you’re listening to is a recording of my phone playing a recording, so there was only so much I could do. But it’s worth a listen just to hear an innuendo-laden exchange between Rhett and Link involving soft and hard sticks.

PSA

At the risk of starting some discourse, this blog will no longer be posting anything involving Nick Robinson. I won’t delete the posts that are already on the blog, but in the future, no more Coolgames Inc, no more Touch the Skyrim, nothing. I don’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Crying

masterlist || coming soon//recently posted || tell me something?

Requested: Can you please do an imagine where y/n is crying bc she feels herself so bad (smth hurts or she’s giving birth) and Shawn hates it cause he can’t do anything about it?

Your name: submit What is this?

~~~

When you’re really sick, you have a tendency to cry or whimper in your sleep. You’ve been doing this for as long as you can remember. It used to freak your parents out because you’d be asleep and they couldn’t help you without waking you up, and then the same thing happened with your roommates once you started attending Uni. While it is happening, you are vaguely aware of it, but not fully because you’re actually asleep so you can’t stop it unless you wake yourself up.

“Shhhh,” You hear your boyfriends soft voice cooing in your ear as one of his arms is wrapped around your shoulder holding you securely close to his chest, while his other hand is gently pushing your hair from your tear stained cheeks and wiping the tears from your face. “Shhhh,” He tries to comfort you more as you slowly wake up and realize what is happening. “It’s okay y/n, I got you.” His voice is low and soothing. He knows you were asleep and making all these noises in your sleep, but he’s still trying to comfort you because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

Your eyes open, and it feels like your headache gets even worse if that’s even possible. You move slightly and he looks down at you to see that your eyes are open, he exhales audibly, “Oh thank God you’re awake. I don’t know how much more of that I could take” he says honestly. And you know he’s talking about the way that you were crying and whimpering in your sleep.

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I don’t think I’ll ever get over how right before Jason et al barge into the room and start preparing for the bar mitzvah, the very second before that door opens, Whizzer was getting ready to give up. He was literally just about to lay down and die, but then his family showed up and he put on a brave face instead. He didn’t ask them to leave, he didn’t ask for a minute or tell them he wasn’t up for a bar mitzvah or for anything else. He just smiled and lasted as long as he could before quietly slipping away and if that’s not love I don’t know what is.

Professor

In which Andrew didn’t choose Exy but still chose Neil, which meant Neil had to learn how to talk about something other than stick-ball. 

warning, mention of implied sexual assault/non-con


Lucy had not anticipated what she was dealt. 

Her first day of second year brought a tone of finality to it all: it wasn’t just a year-long dream of terrible decisions and alcohol and chaos. It continued on, and so would she. 

Her first day also happened to bring Professor Andrew Minyard, five feet and blond and utterly terrifying. 

Introducing the course had started off mundane enough, until Eddie Court – an asshole she’d regretted sleeping with dearly – decided to lean over her shoulder. He never got the chance to say anything because a pencil dotted him squarely in his forehead, so hard that a tiny droplet of blood threatened to bead. 

Everyone stared. Shocked, confused, but remaining in complete silence as they  – Lucy included – tried to remember if anyone had mentioned anything about the man, whether or not this was normal or out-of-the-ordinary behaviour. 

“Name.” He sounded bored. 

Eddie rose his fingers to brush his forehead, smearing the tiniest of droplets. He stared at his fingertips, then at Minyard, then at the pencil that had clattered on his desk. Then at Minyard again. “Eddie Court.”

“Court. Christ.” The professor said, with a palpable distaste to his tone. “I will say this once, despite having to repeat it every year, because students seem to get thicker with every new class.” His face was blank. Stone. Lucy had never heard someone utter insults with such apathy. She didn’t know whether or not to be scared or curious: Such a mask was difficult to maintain. “Shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. Understood?”

Swearing in class. At the students. Completely against protocol. 

Lucy couldn’t help but smile. Just a little. 


Within weeks, the class had learned how to abide by Professor Minyard’s rules. His previous students were sought out, but they merely grinned at the mention of his name. One student dared to ask another law professor, questioning the teaching methods of the criminology expert. They shook their head, leaning to the professor next to them and sharing a laugh, an inside joke that none of the second years were a part of. 

Yet. 

Curiosity won out over fear eventually, and what that said about Lucy, she wasn’t sure. Eventually, he won her respect: The piece of white chalk he’d flung had imbedded itself in her tightly curled hair when she’d fallen asleep at the eight AM lecture on a Tuesday morning. 

“You think I want to be here, Rone?” 

That piece of chalk rested on her bedside table. Lucy didn’t want to be weird, especially considering her professor hadn’t played Exy since college, but he’d played with Neil Josten and Kevin Day. The Neil Josten, and the Kevin Day. And if she had spent nights watching old Palmetto State Fox games, sitting in awe as she watched him flick balls away from the goal like it was absolutely nothing, no one was going to know. 

He was just as apathetic as he had been back then. Lucy had decided he was just emotionless: That didn’t make him any worse at teaching, so it wasn’t really her problem. 

And then she became his problem. 


Her grades had dropped dramatically low. Andrew stared at the results that he’d just drawn up, picked the paper up off the desk, and leaned back in his chair. 

It was a midterm. He’d eyed Lucy Rone’s bad results in the past two mini-quizzes, her surprisingly worsening attendance, and this was enough to force his hand. 

Half an hour later, he was convinced this was abnormal behaviour, if her patterns rang true. 

Caring, caring. Perhaps the internal monologue would never leave him alone, but he knew better than to listen to it’s mocking tone. Watch yourself turn into Wymack, why don’t you. Call Dan and say you’re taking over as coach of the Foxes. 

He almost told himself to shut up, but the chime of his phone snapped him out of his head. It kept chiming and he sighed, picking it up and wedging it between his shoulder and ear, returning to stare at the mark scrawled in the corner of the exam paper. 

“Are you going to be here for dinner?”

“Not if you’re attempting to make something.” Neil had improved past the broke-college-student level of cooking skills, but he wasn’t apt enough to cook dinner without some form of disaster. 

It hadn’t taken long for Andrew to learn the sound of Neil grinning through the phone. A particular tone of voice, a particular exhale. “It’s already done. Just has to be heated up again.”

“Edible?”

“Can’t really be the judge of my own creation, can I?”

“I’ll be home soon.” Andrew liked the way his mouth curled around the word home.”Lucy Rone. Sound like someone problematic to you?”

“Not particularly. Lucy’s always been the name of that old woman sitting on the front porch, knitting. Five cats, crocheting and all.”

“So, you?”

“If old ladies swung heavy sticks at other people, sure.”

Andrew let himself smile. He allowed himself this. The small curl up on his lips. He’d earned that, after all this time. “Sure.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Unusually bad performance. Moved from sitting front and centre to back corner. Shit attendance.”

“You’re probably a much better judge of character than I would be, now.”

Because I’ve studied criminal, suspicious and victimised behaviour for a long time, Andrew wanted to remind him. But this was no longer a sore spot for Neil: He no longer needed to read people’s intentions in need to survive, because he was safe. He could let that overly-analytical part of himself behind. It had been almost 12 years since their first win against Edgar Allen. He was still alive, well. 

Happy, even. 

Hard to believe that was partly Andrew’s fault. 

Focus. 

Andrew emailed Lucy to visit him before their next class at nine o’clock the next morning. 


She was five minutes early, he was five minutes late. He couldn’t say anything about her appearance, considering he was wearing Neil’s jersey under his coat and that he had walked out of the door with a coffee, slippers and nothing to comb his hair with but his fingers. 

His students knew not to say anything. 

Lucy sported a pair of sweats that had her high school’s initials printed on the front, with a pair of exy sticks embroidered just underneath. Her name was printed on the back pocket, and they only just came down to her ankles. 

Exy fan, then. Andrew wouldn’t have guessed. 

She didn’t say anything, sparing him a hollow looking before following him into his office. He’d used to share it, until he’d bribed the finicky financial law to move somewhere else. It was entirely his own space, clean and devoid of decoration. 

He motioned towards the desk and she leaned against it, clutching the binder to her chest. 

Brown skin didn’t usually lose this much of it’s valour, even during winter. 

And winters in South Carolina were hardly anything worth mentioning. 

“Your grades.”

She was staring at the floor. Her eyes didn’t move when she nodded. 

“All I need is a reason.” 

She said nothing. 

“It’d probably be easier on you if you told me. I’m your criminology professor: I’ll find out eventually.”

“I’m not on drugs.” She said, quickly, but not so quickly that it was an immediate red flag. An orange flag. Andrew settled back into his seat and propped his ankle on his knee. 

“Never said you were.”

“I’m fine.” 

Andrew gave her a flat look. “You know who also says that?”

She shook her head. 

“Surely someone who still wears her high school’s exy uniform would have an inkling. Yay-high, hair like a fire-engine siren, mouth like one too.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to ask if he knows that you wear his old Palmetto jersey. I thought he hated you?”

“I hated him.” Andrew corrected her. “I hate him.” He corrected himself. “And he knows.”

She looked wistful. “Cool.” 

“Lucy.”

She looked back at him. 

“If there’s a problem, you come to me. Alright?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because you can trust me. I can be a lawyer, a therapist, an advice column, what have you.”

“Can I trust you?”

“When you’re ready to.” 

She seemed satisfied enough to nod, murmur a timid thank you, and slipped out the door. 


Lucy banged on the door, feeling sick. She couldn’t go back to her dorm, because it made her want to crawl into a corner and be enveloped in a shadow. To be the smallest, most insignificant thing. 

She wasn’t sure how on earth her criminology professor was supposed to empathise with her, when he was the human embodiment of a brick wall, but here she was, trembling, feverish, panicked, and knocking on his office door at ten o’clock at night. 

He opened the door with a mildly annoyed expression, which flattened out immediately at the sight of her. 

She’d only seen him this morning, but that felt like a whole world away now. 

“Hello.”

She wanted to ask why he was still here, on campus, this late at night. What on earth he could possibly be working on, at ten o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Instead, she blurted: “What does it mean if I didn’t say no?”

He stilled. 

Too much, too much, too much: She had asked too much of him, a middle aged professor who apparently had two cats and a boyfriend, if the senior’s rumours were true. Criminology professor aside, this was the last thing someone like him would want to be dragged into –

He stood aside and motioned for her to come in. She shuffled by him, arms around her stomach. He shut the door. 

Lucy wanted to be sick. 

He pulled a pen out of his pocket – professors always had pens on them, didn’t they? – and tore a corner off a piece of paper, scribbling down a phone number. 

“This woman helped me.” Betsy. “She can help you, too.”

“You said you could be a therapist.” Lucy hedged. 

He sighed, and she’d never seen him so reflective. “I have my limits.”

She nodded. She took the piece of paper. She left. 


“Where the fuck is Court?” Andrew leaned on the edge of his desk at the front of the lecture hall, eyeing the empty seat. Second lesson in a row. 

Lucy Rone sat in front of it, back straight, gaze steady. 

“Suspended.” 

Andrew looked at her. “For how long?”

There was a hesitant smile. “Undetermined. Charges have been pressed against him.” 

Andrew drew a long line through Eddie Court’s name on the attendance.


Lucy waited by the door and saw her professor approaching, with the stack of papers in his hands. She was anxious about this mark, more-so than the others. Her dip in performance would be hard to get back up from, but if she could do it in criminology, she could do it in the rest. There was a cluster of students waiting to get their essay’s grade back, but Lucy was first in line. 

“Yay or nay?” She asked. 

Professor Minyard gave Lucy a flat look, and opened the door. 

Lucy promptly had a heart attack at the man beyond the door. 

“Feet. Off.” Her professor said, looking flatly at Neil Josten, with his feet propped up on the desk, arms folded. He, too, was wearing a faded jersey of the Palmetto Foxes’ colours, but it was too bunched up for Lucy to read the name. 

“Surprise.” Neil Josten said, and Lucy wanted to scream. 

“Get your fucking feet off my fucking desk.” Her professor dropped the large stack of papers next to where Neil Josten had propped up his heavy boots. Neil did not get his fucking feet off the fucking desk. 

Lucy almost had the nerve to scream: do you know who that is? Do you have any clue how famous he was? But she remembered that the two of them were friends. Sort of. She held her tongue, and let her heart thrum in her chest, happy to be completely ignored. 

“Leave.” Professor Minyard flicked Neil in the temple. 

Neil smiled. Neil Josten smiled. 

Lucy was having heart palpitations. 

He slowly drew his feet away from the desk to stand, still smiling. “Have a nice day.”

“You weren’t meant to be here till tomorrow evening, Josten. Explain.”

“You’re busy. Later.”

Lucy watched her professor’s arm reach out to brush along Neil Josten’s forearm as he slid past, and there was a startlingly foreign crinkle of warmth in his eyes. 

The back of Neil’s Palmetto jersey read Minyard. A thin platinum ring, identical to the one her professor wore around his neck, clacked against the doorknob as he pushed it open. She remember her professor occasionally wearing Josten. 

There was a startling curve of her professor’s lips, an almost smile that made him look almost human. 

Neil grinned before slipping out the door. 

Oh, Lucy thought, and then she said it aloud. 

Her professor turned on her, pointing. “If you dare to ask me for a single autograph, I will fail you.” 

Lucy was still smiling. 

“If any word about this gets out, I will fail you.” He warned. 

“Are you married?” Lucy laughed. 

His face was stone. 

“Holy shit. Professor Josten-Minyard. Two cats and a husband.”

“It’s Minyard-Josten.” He said coldly. “Get out.” 

Lucy got out.


By the next class, everyone knew, despite Lucy not breathing a word. Which meant the entirety of Neil Josten’s personal but still public Instagram account displayed his home life. But that was none of his student’s – or anyone’s– business. 

And if Neil started coming in with breakfast on those Tuesday morning lectures during his off season, that was none of their business either. 

Taehyung takes being mean to you too far. Part.3

[Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4] [Part.5] [Part.6] [Part.7] [Part.8END]


Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Taehyung’s p.o.v

I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know how I suddenly ended up walking my way here. But here I am, standing right in front of her front door. I knocked and I heard slow shuffling on the inside, I could’ve sworn she took five minutes just to get to the door. I hear the door unlock and the door handle turn. 

“Ya-” I cut myself off from telling her how she took so long to open the door. “You look like shit, what’s wrong with you?” She honestly looked as though she was about to pass out any second now. So I held her arm. 

“What are you doing here?” She slowly spoke out, obviously didn’t have the energy to fight back when I said that she looked like shit.

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5 Ways To Say I Love You || Kim Namjoon

Originally posted by rapnamu

Word Count: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff


1.

It was the first week you had been dating Namjoon and you were enjoying it. He had asked you out a week prior and it was one of the happiest moments of your entire life. Without a second thought you had happily agreed, saying you wouldn’t want anything else, and you had never seen a bigger smile on his face then in that moment.

Namjoon had asked you if you wanted to spend the say with him and you had agreed, the idea of spending time with your new boyfriend sounding more entertaining than anything else you had planned for the day. So there you were, walking along the river side, the sun having just set in the distance and darkness surrounding you and Namjoon.

The stars were making an appearance in the sky and you couldn’t help it as you let a small yawn, stretching your arms up and into the air. You swore if you had stood on your tip toes you would have been able to grab a cloud and feel the fluff against your finger tips. It was a beautiful sight as the stars glinted off the water and reflected back into your eyes, and you listened gently as Namjoon continued to talk about something that happened to him a couple of days ago.

It was one of the most peaceful moments you had ever experienced, being here with somebody you cared so much about and being able to spend time together. You took a deep breath, turning to look at Namjoon and smiling as you nodded along to what he was saying. As the two of you continued walking, you found yourself getting more and more drowsy, the day finally catching up with you.

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