have i got something for you

  • Clary: I’m cold
  • Jace: here, have my jacket
  • Alec: hey, I’m cold too
  • Magnus: what? *taking off jacket* I told you to bring more layers but of course you didn’t listen and now *piling scarves on alec* now look, I’ve got to make sure you don’t FREEZE to death and *taking somebody else’s hat* how long have you been cold you should’ve said something sooner

Tae: Im sorry you and Jungkook didn’t get snow on your wedding day like you wanted

Jimin: Yeah i was kind of disappointed but don’t worry i got 8 inches that night

Jungkook:

Tae:

BTS:

Jin: HAVE YOU NO SHAME? HOW COULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT IN FRONT OF YOUR EOMMA

Something Worth Fighting For

A small house in Godric’s Hollow. April, 1980.

James: A boy? You’re Sure?

Lily: That’s what the doctor said. They tend to know these things

Lily: Oh well let’s hope he inherits his father’s modesty then.

James: I hope he get’s his mothers sense of humor

Lily: I hope he looks like you- even that messy hair of yours

Lily: …I hope he has no reason to fight…

James: We’ll make sure of that.

Baked Goods

A/N: I actually forced myself to write, so sorry if this is actual rubbish. Also shout out to @buckthegrump bc I only wrote tonight bc of her

Warnings: Talks of cancer

Word Count: 820

When you moved into your apartment, you soon noticed something about your new neighbor, Bucky Barnes.

Firstly, he was insanely attractive. Second, he baked. A lot. And he often brought you things he would bake. He said that he could never finish it by himself. Not that you were complaining. You got good treats and didn’t have to make a mess of your kitchen.

But the longer you lived next to him, the more you realized a pattern. When you first moved in, you got surprise goods maybe once or twice a month. But more recently the baked treats were coming more often and in larger batches.

Keep reading

In the tons of relationship books I have read, I noticed that they always talk about ‘what to do when you lose the spark’. They usually have advices like, change the routine, or do something exciting, or go on dates.

So it got me thinking, after a while of practicing in Islam, we tend to lose that spark that was there in the beginning of our road, that spark that made us weep for our sins, and the same spark that made us have an unquenching thirst for knowledge.

So how about we start applying the relationships tips to have a more awakened heart?

Change the routine: do a new act of worship, or change your schedule abit. Go visit the sick in the hospitals. Go visit the elderly in the nursing homes, portray what a Muslim should be; you could be a reason that someone would die upon the truth. Go to an orphanage, play with the kids. Wallahi although these may seem little, but they have a huge effect on the heart, and inshallah they would have a huge weight on the scale too. So renew your repentance; renew your relationship with Allah.

anonymous asked:

Hi. :) Since you're bored. :) I am also bored. :) Do you know any anti-phan blogs? I promise I won't engage with them, (I do not believe in sending anonymous hate messages and I have no intention of stirring up drama) but I am relatively new to the phandom, even though I've been watching dan and phil for several years, and I am actually genuinely curious about what they think??? This is probably something you don't want to answer and that's fine. But since you said you were bored. :)

ngl all the prominent anti blogs deleted bc dnp got too obvious and they realised they were wrong

Something Entirely New (Cullen x Inquisitor/Reader)

Cullen never really knew what it was like to be in love until recently.

Word Count: 600

I haven’t got much to say other than I hope you have a beautiful day and enjoy!! Thank you (❁´▽`❁)*✲゚*

Edit: Sorry!! Posted onto the wrong blog, so here it is! Please reblog/like this version instead please!! Thank you again!!

———————————————————————————————————–

You.

You had completely changed his life like he’d never thought possible.

He had felt his heart pound around others before, his mind draw to an utter blank, or even feel so flustered as to rush off.

But you were different.

Utterly and wonderfully different.

His stomach used to twist or tie into knots at the sight of you, and there were more times that he could count that you left him at a loss for words, hardly able to muster more than a few murmurs.

But you made him happy.

Happier than he thought possible.

Despite it all the moment he’d see you approach him his heart would skip a beat and a warmth bloom in his chest.

He hadn’t entirely thought he was in reality when you admitted the same to him, somehow able to maintain that sort of calmness you always had.

How you did, he hadn’t the faintest idea.

He could make a list about all of the things about you that amazed him.

But the idea of ever saying it to you left him near shaking.

But somedays he could come close.

And one morning he had come close.

He had woken to find you cradled in his arms, streams of sunlight pouring in from the glass of your quarters as his eyes opened.

He couldn’t help but smile as he felt your hands ribboned around him in return, only stirred as he let out a small yawn.

You crinkled your nose briefly, stretching before sinking back against him, your lids opening as you looked up to him, smiling.

“…Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He hummed, grinning at the sleepiness entangled in your tone.

You glanced up outside, folding your lips. “I’m not…I’m not sure I want to get up yet.” You raised your brow, sheepish. “What about you?”

“I don’t mind.” He simpered.

You thought for a moment. “I’m not…I’m not tired I just…” You giggled meekly, the tips of your ears reddening. “I don’t really want to leave this.”

It clicked in his head almost instantly, feeling his heart threatening to burst.

He hardly even thought before the words slipped from his mouth.

“I love you.” He said softly. “I love you so much did you know that?”

Your eyes widened like saucers, your face erupting into red in a moment’s notice.

And you began to laugh.

It was a beautiful sort of laugh, quiet and flustered as you responded.

“I love you too.”

He couldn’t seem to stop smiling you said that to him, tipping his forehead against your own.

“I…” He sighed. “I don’t even know how to begin to describe you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just…” He folded his lips, trying to muster the courage to confess it. “I can’t believe I’m blessed enough to have this-to have y-you with me.”

You were speechless for a second, gaze shining with a sort of surprise in your expression.

And then you melted.

You curled your hands around his cheeks, peppering his face in kisses, eventually finding your fingertips tangled in his hair.

“You want to know something?”

“What?” He asked, trying to mask his embarrassment, his face slightly hidden within one of the pillows.

“I think I just might be the luckiest person in Thedas when I’m with you.”

anonymous asked:

My dude I just been hit by the red demon need to know how lotor would handle smol s/o that on her period.

Ahhhh… Satan’s Waterfall of Sacrifice… . 

Lotor:

  • This guy is real patient with you, and does whatever he can to help you.
  • He gives into your cravings as well, but tries to limit how much you eat.  You’ve already got cramps, he doesn’t want to give you anymore from an upset stomach.
  • All the cuddles.  ALL.THE.CUDDLES
  • If you get mood swings Lotor handles them real well, either with snarky remarks or saying something to make you laugh.  
  • He’s not afraid to go into some store and buy you tampons, pads, or medicine.  His lady is having a hard time so he’s going to get her what she needs to be comfortable.
  • Did I mention cuddles?
  • And kisses.  Lots of those too.
I just noticed something in the recent Forces trailer

So I was rewatching the latest Japanese Sonic Forces trailer we got a few days ago, and I noticed something in one scene of the trailer, specifically something with Classic Sonic

If you look closely at his eyes, they aren’t a Solid Black but rather you can see his pupils wrapped around a grey iris. This most likely isn’t a developer screw up since a long time ago Sega released some wallpapers and in those wallpapers Sonic didn’t have solid black eyes, rather he had brown eyes or had grey/slat blue irises like in the Forces screenshot. Examples:

In conclusion, Classic Sonic doesn’t have solid black eyes, and I felt like this could be a fun thing to share.

Hello! Time for another development update. Today, I’ve got both exciting and disappointing news, and then a few sneak peeks.

First, the disappointing news: it looks like we aren’t going to reach our hoped-for November release date for the game. I know this is frustrating, but I hope you’ll be understanding. Things are still steadily moving forward with development, just not fast enough to have it all ready by next month, and we’d rather release a polished and delayed game than a rushed and shoddy one.

But here’s the exciting news: we are going to release something substantial in November, even if it’s not the complete game: we’ll be showing off the entire Jeb route. There may still be a few placeholders in it, and things might change in the route between this release and the final game, but hopefully this will tide you over, and let you see some of the hard work that we’ve been doing. The route will include new art, new music, and new writing. I’m excited to show off the progress we’re making, even though it isn’t as much as I’m sure you were hoping for.

There are several other cool things in the works in the meantime, and we’ll announce them here and on our facebook page as they develop. For now, here’s a look at some sprites of the faculty of Grand Old Academy. Again, apologies for the latest delay, and thank you for your continuing patience!

almost prompts

  • “we never got the right timing.”
  • “if you asked me years ago, i would have said yes.”
  • “we aren’t the same people. not anymore.”
  • “don’t you want to know what could have been?”
  • “it’s too late.”
  • “i used to daydream about us.”
  • “maybe in another life we could have been together.”
  • “you’re not the one i love.’
  • “do you ever think that if we had been single at the same time, that we could have been something more?”

anonymous asked:

how would the boys act to know that their partner is depressed for not being a typical thin and tall girl, if not small and a bit chubby?. Sorry if you do not understand something, it's difficult to write in English when you're not accustomed to it QnQ. I love it like Donnie's headcanons <3

Leo:

Personally loves how small they are

Their chubbiness makes him relax

Leaves kisses over all their voluptuous curves, loving each and every one

Trails his hands over their skin like they’re a perfect work of art (which they are)

Constantly whispers to them how sexy they are, churring deep in his throat sometimes to see their blush

Originally posted by tenebrae-mrok

Raph:

The King of Curves

Skinny? Psh. Gotta have a lover that’s got a great ass, or it ain’t worth it, in his opinion. And chubs=ass to the max

Praises them when they walk around without a shirt on (if partner is female, they’re gonna have a sports bra on, but nonetheless, it’s hot AF to him)

Loves to squeeze them curves

The feeling of soft skin under his rough hands makes him melt

Honestly can’t understand their self consciousness, because damn, their chub has him falling to his knees for them

Originally posted by freaky-addiction

Donnie:

He thinks chubbiness is natural, not skinniness. Did you know that earlier in history, it was HOTTER to be CHUBBIER? He definitely is old-fashioned in his views of looks.

Proceeds to be their own personal hype man, pretending to faint anytime they walk in

Whistles lowly when they come in wearing tight-fitting jeans and showing off their curves

He loves cuddling with them, because their softness shuts his brain off for a while

Also, their shortness? LOVE. He likes that he can bend over them and kiss them upside down, while they’re still standing

Originally posted by admireforever

Mikey:
He’s the ‘chubbiest’ of his brothers, so he’s known the mild taunts that get thrown at chub

Comforts them by saying their shortness correlates perfectly with his own

He proceeds to carry them around everywhere, to prove that ‘chubby’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘heavy’ - if he can lift you into his arms, that’s all that matters, right?

If Raph’s the King of Curves, Mikey’s the prince of them. He loves what to say to make his SO feel better, and he’s always so sincere about it

Originally posted by relationshipaims

The Difference Between Allies & Friends - Dunkirk Cast Preference

Summary: These are times of support from the members of the Dunkirk cast to their friend, who is transgender (FTM)/nonbinary and presenting as masculine. It’s up to you if the reader is a friend or in a relationship with them.

AN: Just some wish fulfilment and positive vibes to the LGBT+ community. I’m gonna do an MTF transition as well.

Perma-tag: @tomgcsglasses and @lowdenglynnstyles

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

aren't you upset that aussies got invited to LA SS, but not you?

No anon. I’m so happy for them. They are some of my favourite people and it’s amazing that Taylor would do this for them. I’ve been trying to meet Taylor for a long, long time and it has never happened, the odds of it happening I think are small. I’m not someone who really stands out to ever be picked for loft or something like that so I’ve never thought that Taylor would have noticed me/my blog specifically. I’m just going to sit here and enjoy the stories and photos of everyone who have had this amazing experience and be filled with love for Taylor for caring so much to do any of this.

areallykindpsychopath  asked:

PLEASE do the song thing based off Your love by the outfield 🖤 (if you want ofc ily)

(Amazing song choice!)

~Richie felt the harsh heat of the sun bouncing onto the hood of the car as he sat directly on it, his bare hand keeping himself stable. The red glittered off the car, he would’ve admired the sight if the situation weren’t so troubling. Eddie shoved another suitcase into the back of the car and came around to the front, standing as if he was waiting for something. And Richie knew he was. 

“You still got time….just stay another night.” Richie hopped down, leaning back and cupping Eddie’s chin. Eddie shook his way out of the grip. 

“I can’t, Rich. That would just make this so much harder.” He swallowed and looked over his shoulder. Richie sighed. He didn’t have much luck or hope in this. There weren’t many Loser’s left to talk to. Bev, Bill, Stan and Ben had all left previously. God, Richie hoped Mike wasn’t next. He needed his friends. 

He swiped his hand over his mouth, feeling the damp sweat on his skin. He felt his stomach burn as he replayed the song he’d heard on the way over in his head, staring deep into Eddie’s big brown eyes. 

“I don’t want to lose your love tonight…” Richie sang softly and Eddie grimaced. He could tell the smaller boy was fighting back a grin though. Which only encouraged Richie. “I ain’t got many friends left to talk to. Nowhere to run when I’m in trouble. You know I’d do anything for you. Stay the night but keep it under cover. I just want to use your love tonight….”

He brought Eddie close until their foreheads were touching. “Please stop. God, Richie you can’t do this to me, it’s not fucking fair.” Eddie repeated that last part over and over in a struggled whisper that broke Richie’s heart. So he stopped. Eddie pursed his lips and sighed. 

“I’d love it if I could stay another night, Rich. Y’know that but I can’t so I’m gonna have to do this the hard way.” Eddie ripped himself out of the tight hold and started his way to the drivers side of the car. Richie tried to follow, But Eddie opened the door, hitting Richie. He grabbed onto the ledge where the window was rolled down. 

“Eds…”

“Don’t just don’t ok?” Eddie started the car and reached over, slamming the door once he ripped it from Richie’s tight grip. And in ten seconds flat, Eddie left Richie in the dust….and Richie couldn’t really blame him. There were better things waiting for his boy. He kicked a rock out into the street and shook his head. 

“But I can’t hide the way I’m feeling. As you’re leaving please would you close the door? And don’t forget what I told you. Just ‘cause you’re right that don’t mean I’m wrong. Another shoulder to cry upon…I just want to use your love tonight.”

Richie sang miserably the whole way home. 



(Send me the 60s-80s lyric or song of your choosing, whether you want a Hc list or oneshot , Reddie or Stenbrough, and I’ll do it!)

2

Noah: “Roxy, would you please take this rose?”

Roxy: “Why, yes, Noah! I look forward to getting to know you better.”


Noah: “I’m really sorry, Victoria. But I got more of a friendly vibe from you than something more romantic.”

Victoria: “I had the same vibe. I am happy to have had this opportunity, though.”

anonymous asked:

How did you get the bmc bootleg? Do you have to pay for it or something? (Sorry if you've answered this before)

its a drive link it’s only like the first 35 minutes
it’s past view and download quota rn i got there just in time

A/N: This isn’t a request - simply a story that came to me randomly. So I wrote it and now I’m dedicating it to @dont-look-so-good/ @ocsickficsideblog because today is April’s birthday! April you are my amazing wee sister and I love you lots lots lots! I hope you like this and have had an absolutely amazing birthday because you deserve the best!! 😊💙


“Relax!” Zubin placed a drink down in front of Lyle, who thought it better resembled a fishbowl than a glass. “I got you a San Francisco so it’s not got any alcohol in it, just fruit juice and grenadine.” Lyle eyed the glass with caution, he’d never done the cocktail and mocktail thing before and it put him so far out of his comfort zone that he was struggling even to trust Zubin.

“Are you having the same?” Lyle asked; he expected Zubin to have something alcoholic, but the drink in front of him looked very similar to his own.

This bar was new, but had already succeeded in building a reputation as a good place for performers. That was really what Zubin was interested in, he was scoping out whether this was the sort of place that he could do his drag act in. He’d wheedled Lyle into going along with him because everyone else was busy. Lyle had tried to be busy too, but Zubin won.

“No, I’m having a Sex on the Beach,” Zubin replied, and Lyle felt his cheeks go a bit pink at the name, “it’s the same but with vodka and schnapps.”

“How do you know which one’s which?” Lyle looked between the glasses again, he couldn’t tell any difference.

“Because your one has the orange and mine has the lemon,” Zubin tapped the garnishes on the side of the glasses.

“Okay,” Lyle said, picking up his glass to take a drink and very nearly needing both hands to keep it steady. The fruit juice tingled in his mouth and Zubin grinned as Lyle seemed satisfied.

“I really like these pods,” Zubin stroked his hand across the fabric of the seat, “it gives it a bit of a cosy, upmarket vibe, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Lyle agreed; this wasn’t the sort of place that he would go if it wasn’t for Zubin’s encouragement. It was busy – at least the pod gave them a little bit of space and at least the illusion of privacy. The wall behind Lyle allowed him to feel secure, but all the people made him feel antsy. Zubin, on the other hand, was in his element – he sipped at his drink, his eyes darting around taking all the surroundings in.

“And you can still see the platform area from in here,” he pointed out. Lyle didn’t say anything, but took another gulp of his drink just for something to do. There was a tight knot in his chest, an increasing anxiety about where he was, that he was struggling to dampen down. “Are you okay?” Zubin asked.

“Yeah,” Lyle lied, although his lips were hard to move and he really hoped that Zubin didn’t notice that his hand was shaking as he took a large gulp.

“We don’t have to stay if you’re not comfortable,” Zubin offered, his dark eyebrows furrowed down as he watched Lyle. “We can finish these and go, I’ve seen the place now.”

“No, it’s okay,” Lyle heard himself say, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew he couldn’t take it back. He took another gulp, the fruit juice was nice – but it had a sharpness that Lyle hadn’t expected. Perhaps next time he’d just have a fruit cider.

The lights on the platform had changed, a soft white spotlight cut though the pale blue light which had made Lyle feel like he was under the sea from the moment they’d come inside.

“Good evening,” one of the barmen had appeared on the platform and his voice came across the speaker loud and clear. “It’s my pleasure to introduce, on behalf of Polo bar, our first spoken word artist in tonight’s line up. Give a warm welcome to Seerhere.”

A round of applause swelled through the bar, bouncing off the roof and in the pods. Lyle looked across at Zubin, and from the surprised look on his face he was just as oblivious as Lyle.

“Did you know?” Lyle asked anyway, but Zubin’s eyebrows had raised so high up on his forehead they nearly disappeared into his hairline.

“No!” Zubin shook his head, feeling perhaps Allah really had been smiling down on this trip.

Spoken art was one of Lyle’s things. He’d always loved poetry but when he’d discovered spoken word artists on YouTube he’d instantly fallen in love. The applause had died down as a young man wearing a suit accessorized by a beanie hat stepped on to the platform. There was something about the way that he stood, feet planted firmly on the ground with a sense of certainty, and Lyle watched in anticipation – a cold tingling along his arms.

“Lists.
Tickboxes.
Type your answer here.
Delete as appropriate.”

His voice was not what Lyle expected, it was high and breathless – and sounded like music to Lyle’s ears.

“Deletion.
Backspace.
Step back.
Stop.”

Zubin watched Lyle’s face, his expression had changed entirely as he listened. To Zubin it was just words, but for Lyle it wove a pattern.

“Red light.
Green man.
Crossing.
Lives.
Interwoven.
Moments.”

The atmosphere in the room had shifted and Lyle felt welcome among the group of listening congregants. He gulped another large amount of his drink, the sharpness was growing on him now and he was quite enjoying it.

“Moments in time.
Time’s up.
Stop.
End.”

There was a moment where the room collectively held its breath, then the applause started.

“That was amazing,” Lyle thought aloud, clapping so hard his palms hurt.

“It’s pretty good,” Zubin agreed, and Lyle looked across at him trying hard not to laugh.

“I know it’s not your thing Zu,” Lyle told him, taking a long drink of his mocktail which left the glass empty, “you don’t have to pretend to me, I don’t mind.”

“But it’s your thing,” Zubin looked embarrassed at Lyle’s frankness, he drained his own glass. “I’m going to get another, do you want one?”

“Yeah, why not?” Lyle shrugged, more interested in the artist on the platform. Zubin slipped out of the pod and disappeared off to the bar; Lyle edged slightly closer to the edge of the pod so he could get a better view.

“When feet meet the street
It’s tarmac and rubber,
When feet meet the street
But can’t leave
It’s cold toes and sleeping bags.”

Lyle closed his eyes, as this person spoke the words seemed to curl and dance like a trail of rising smoke in front of his eyes. He was entranced by it, goosebumps were rising on the back of his neck. Zubin returned with the glasses and slid in beside Lyle.

“This would be a good venue for one of your poetry things,” Zubin said when the artist had finished his next piece.

“It would!” Lyle agreed. He’d never thought about that; their previous poetry soc readings had always either been jammed into the English department’s common room, or in one of the dingier pubs on campus where the air became so thick and hot it was difficult to breathe. “Maybe I’ll have to suggest it at the next meeting.”

For the first time in their friendship it was Lyle who wanted to stay out and Zubin was waiting for him; there was two girls who followed the first performer, one who Lyle didn’t rate too highly and the other who he thought was phenomenal. Lyle was so enthralled that he hadn’t noticed Zubin refilling his glass every time it was empty; what notified Lyle to the amount of liquid he’d drunk was the need to go to the toilet. He wobbled as he got out from the pod and was unsure as to why he felt so unsteady on his feet.

Normally his anxiety prevented him from going to the bathroom on his own in such a busy place, as the mere thought of having to walk across a crowded bar to get there made his knees weak. But tonight he simply waved off Zubin’s offer and set off across the gathered clumps of people, heading towards the area next to the platform where there was a sign for the toilets. He pushed through a door and found himself in a corridor with an open door out to the smoking area, and both sets of bathrooms – the cold air from outside hit him with a ferocity that made him wobble again.

He stumbled a little as he entered the bathroom and, as a precaution, decided it might be better for him to use a stall. Lyle’s head was swimming as he closed the door and locked it with trembling fingers; he sat down rather heavily on the toilet and sunk his head into his hands. He hadn’t been sure why he was feeling so woozy, but as he sat on the toilet with his eyes closed, the realisation that he definitely had a bit of alcohol in him presented itself.

Anger rose in Lyle’s chest – had Zubin known all along that he was giving him alcohol? If that was true he was going to be really upset with him. He knew Lyle had a lecture in the morning and he really didn’t like going out before his classes. He had to psyche himself into moving because his surroundings were swirling unsteadily; he focused on keeping himself steady as he washed his hands. His cheeks were flushed and his glasses were sliding down to the point of his nose.

The sound seemed much louder as Lyle re-entered the bar, and he focused on putting one foot in front of the other while not banging into those around him. When he slid back into the pod he felt a lot worse than he had when he went to the toilet; Zubin was there with another two glasses, but the thought of drinking more made him feel queasy.

“There’s alcohol in that,” Lyle said, pointing to the glass in front of him.

“No, it’s the San Francisco,” Zubin told him, but Lyle shook his head and shoved it towards him.

“Try it,” he insisted, so Zubin took a sip and then his eyes widened; he took a drink of his own.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking horrified. “Shit Lyle! I must’ve got them mixed up!”

“Yeah,” Lyle nodded. He was trying to take deep breaths as the effects of the alcohol hit him all at once, and he could feel the baked potato he’d eaten for dinner churning inside his stomach.

“Oh shit Lyle! I’m sorry!” Zubin put his hands onto Lyle’s arm and gave it a quick squeeze.

“It’s alright,” he replied, although he was increasingly feeling not alright as he sat. “You didn’t mean it…” Lyle felt like his lips were made of rubber as he spoke; his mouth had gone rather dry, but he was swallowing repeatedly as he felt something rising in his throat.

“Are you alright?” Zubin asked, he’d moved round in the pod so he was right next to him. Lyle paused, trying to establish just how he was feeling; his stomach was doing somersaults and he could feel his glasses sliding down his nose as he shook his head quickly. “What’s going on?”

Lyle wanted to reply, but his stomach gave a jolt and he clapped his hand to his mouth as a gag pushed up. Watery liquid filled his mouth and he looked at Zubin, absolutely petrified, but not knowing what to do.

“Are you gonna be sick?” Zubin put his hand on Lyle’s shoulder and Lyle nodded, not removing his hand from his mouth for fear of what might come out. “Fuck, right…”

Kmmmmchh!” Lyle heaved, his back banged against the wall as he tried to push himself back; if he was going to throw up he didn’t want to get it on himself. He could taste acid as he tried to swallow down the mouthful of sick, but he was failing. “G’rrrkk!” Lyle could feel his cheeks straining and he didn’t know what to do… He really didn’t want to be sick in the middle of this club, that was just beyond humiliating!

“Here, Lyle,” Zubin grabbed one of the large empty glasses from the table and held it up to Lyle’s face; Lyle shook his head, but then a contraction from his belly had him grabbing the glass with both hands.

Brruuurrrllluuuukkk!” Lyle cringed as a gush of mushy sick poured into the glass, half filling it immediately. He tried to take a few gasps of air now his mouth was empty, but his body had other ideas. “G’kkkhhhuuuh!” Another wave of puke came rushing up and out of him.

“Oh fuck,” Zubin put his hand on Lyle’s back and rubbed across his shoulder blades, “it’s okay Lyle.” Zubin could hear Lyle breathing raggedly and could see the glass he was clutching so tightly was very nearly full. “Let me take that from you.” Zubin tried to take the stem of the glass to prize it out of Lyle’s hands but he was shaking his head again. His stomach was still rebelling and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep the rest of it’s contents down for long. “Use this one,” Zubin picked up another glass and managed to swap them.;

Uuuuarrrp!” Lyle belched loudly and a spattering of vomit fell into the glass; he felt awful – his head was spinning and he could feel sweat and tears mingling on his face. “Huuuaaaargh…” With every retch Lyle only managed to bring up a little amount of sick and Zubin could feel the muscles in Lyle’s back straining to get it up.

“It’s okay – you’re okay,” Zubin gently put his free hand on Lyle’s leg and could feel it trembling.

“It – hic – hurts…” Lyle forced out between gags, he couldn’t quite get his breathing back under control and his stomach muscles were tensing so much that they ached.

“I know,” Zubin placated, “just try and breathe – in though your nose and out through your mouth.” This was one of the techniques Lyle used when he was panicking, so Zubin reckoned it might work now too.

Hrrrk! Hmmmk!” Lyle was holding the glass over his mouth and nose, heaving repeatedly but not bringing anything up. “Huuurrp!”

“Don’t fight it Lyle,” Zubin said, rubbing Lyle’s back more and gently using his other hand to push Lyle’s glasses up.

Huuuuaaaarrrraaallpph!” Zubin felt Lyle jerk sharply and the glass was suddenly full and overflowing, dripping down onto the seat in between Lyle’s legs.

“Alright…” Zubin tried to make Lyle let the glass go, succeeding and placing it on the table. Lyle close his eyes, leaning slightly into Zubin – he felt like the whole world was blurring around him. “Lyle – don’t fall asleep, come on, let’s get you home.”

Mmmm…” Lyle hummed, he was breathing slowly now and his stomach felt hollow and sour.

“Come on,” Zubin gripped Lyle’s upper arms and managing to haul him out of the pod; he wrapped his arm around Lyle’s waist to hold him upright. “That’s it…”

Lyle retched again as the cold outside air hit him, but he had nothing left inside him so he was hanging limply from Zubin, heaving emptily towards the ground.

“Oh Lyle… I’m so sorry…” Zubin felt awful for his mistake to have caused this.

“It’ – hrrrk – okay…” Lyle mumbled.

“It’s not,” Zubin shook his head, “but I’m going to get you home and make sure you’re okay… You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Thanks Zu.”

zeeoddwyn  asked:

Hi! I’ve got a question about Errant. What came first to the Isles, Man or Magic? If the magic was always that strong, what prompted folks to settle down there? And if it was Man first, what happened? A Magic sinkhole?

Magic! Again, it’s a natural resource like water and air and the like, so it existed before and will exist after humankind.

As for why people live in such a dangerous area…well, magic poisoning takes a long time to manifest, and while you might have the one weird aunt who grows and extra eye or something the average person never suffers a mutation. Humans have a tendency to live wherever there’s real estate, yknow? The Capital (and the many smaller capitol cities that govern each state, once the individual European countries before they unified) was built on one of the lowest points of magic in the area and civilization expanded outward into more dangerous regions.

People learning to harness magic brought an uptick in mutations, too, as did introducing police-type jobs that required interacting with the arcane frequently.

Also: magic’s interactions with technology weren’t an issue thousands of years ago, so that kinda thing is a modern complication that’s set Europe behind the rest of the world by a few hundred years. The tech that remains reliable in saturation zones varies a lot, so in order to get aid/medication/other tools they can’t manufacture or maintain themselves Europe trades heavily in their magical resources, mainly batteries. 

While The Crown heavily regulates the whole process and prohibits their own people from using most magitech/arcane battery systems (aside from some necessary things like Soaks), the fact remains that someone still has to go into hotspots to gather the stuff, so fuckery abounds with get-rich-quick idiots accidentally poisoning themselves arcanely by harvesting magic bullshit bare-handed and prancing through ocean zones without protection.

I have spent my entire conscious life looking forward to my future self. Maybe that isn’t the best way to put it.. but basically, everything was, “in the future I can wear that” or “in the future I’ll use makeup when I lose this weight” or “I dont have a style now but I will once I lose weight”. I only had fleeting moments where I felt I could do something in the now. And I’m done with that.

So. After watching some inspiring vloggers one night (lookin’ at you @oatsnjen ) I worked up the courage to order leggings that I had been wanting a long long time. Not only that, I ordered the pair I wanted which were plain black, and then I got a little excited and brave and ordered this pair that actually had some style, it had mesh accents and cute pocks.

When they came, I tried on both. The mesh ones were a little tight going on and I had an instant anxiety attack. I got sweaty and angry and took them off and threw them in the back of my closet. I was mad at myself for allowing myself to even buy them. How could I think I could pull off something like that? Keep in mind I hadn’t even looked in the mirror. I just hated that they felt different, and was positive it wasn’t made for me.

[I’d like to take the time to say that I wish Gym Shark was a little more inclusive of plus sizes both in availability and models. I have learned my lesson and will now be researching a brand further before spending a chunk of money with them]

So this was probably 3 months ago. Since then, I packed up my stuff and moved to Arizona. I’ve been bouncing around hotels as my boyfriend travels for work, and I realized tonight I packed the wrong pair of leggings. I packed the ones I hated myself for buying.

As you can see, they look fine - great, even. I deserve to wear nice things. I deserve to wear things that make me feel good. I dont have to hide behind black clothing and baggy everything.