sick glasses

Preferences: When You’re Sick

I just hit 4,500 followers today and I’m super sick rn so I decided I had a lot of inspiration for this particular preference because its just what I want right now

Requested by @dreams-of-feysand @writergash and some nonnies

Preference Tag List: @dreams-of-feysand @runesandfaes@autumn03 @fiery-feyre @januarystears@caitlyn-blackwell @starzablaze @writergash @illyriangoddess @wyrdtoyourmother @perks-of-being-a-lunar @justbooklover @aelinxfeyre @queen-archeron@twirling-pages​ (Let me know if you want to be added to this list!)


You have a fever, so Rowan uses his powers to keep you cool when you’re overheated or warm when you have chills. He keeps fresh air circulating the room to help your overworked lungs and has an ice pack constantly ready to soothe your pounding headache. He fusses over you all day and it’s the most adorable thing ever.


He takes you to the cabin when you are sick, both for fresh air and some alone time to get better. The cabin’s magic takes care of both of you and without responsibilities and plenty of sleep, your health improves fairly quickly. You get back to Velaris a week later even though you were only sick for three of those days. That alone time was definitely used to it’s fullest extent.


She makes you into a roll of blankets and then realizes that she didn’t leave you enough room to move your arms. So then its a process of unrolling and re-rolling so she can hand you the steaming cup of tea she’s been keeping warm –and proceeds to keep warm enough so that it soothes but does not burn your throat. When you’re done, she provides an abundance of books to read and says ‘bless you’ literally every single time you sneeze.


The King of Adarlan gives you a massage when you are sick in bed. With both his magic and physical hands, Dorian rubs your shoulders and feet until your body is completely relaxed. He then proceeds to kiss up the length of your body and you honestly completely forget about your pounding head and screaming throat. Especially when Dorian takes it upon himself to place a sweet peck right on the tip of your red nose.

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You guys ever just think about the fact that Aelin and Lysandra are only 19 years old and have been through so much fucken shit??? I think about it all the time.

Chaol cover drama

“They didn’t want a disabled guy on the cover”

“They didn’t want a tan guy on the cover”

What makes you so sure that that’s the reason why he’s not on the cover? What makes you so sure they’re discriminating people of color and people with disabilities. Were you there when the cover was being planned? Were you in the meeting? Were you told that this was the reason?

People are just so fast to hate. People are so fast to judge.

Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it’s supposed to be.

Give me a character that isn’t a “geek” or a “nerd” with asthma. Give me a track star that has to use an inhaler. Give me an Olympic swimmer that has to work harder and harder to breathe because their lungs need to be trained for the vigorousness. Give me a ballerina, a baker, a flourish, a cyclist. Give me ordinary people from all walks of life. Give me a character that isn’t portrayed as weak because their lungs didn’t form fully when they were born. Give me someone who was the best at what they did and then asthma was formed, and then show them working harder and harder to get what they have always wanted. Don’t tell me you can’t, because we exist in the world, and it’s not fair to pretend that we’re only stuck in one corner of an entire cinematic universe. Put us in books, give us a voice.

@collegeanon-sickfics gave me the final push to write a fic about that one prompt I wrote about wearing the ugly Christmas sweater! I really wanted to but kept putting it off and being a goof about it, so finally having someone else say go for it got me to. It was super fun! Keith’s sweater is based off one I have actually seen out in the wild of the mall (h&m last Christmas if you want to look it up).

That Sweater Tho

“Yeah, sounds good we can meet you there,”  Lance said into his phone, “Tell Pidge to chill, we’re on our way. Just gotta pick up something- pie would be good right? Pecan pie or something?”

Lance looked around the parking lot while Hunk was rambling in his ear about the different options and how close he, Shiro, and Pidge were to the farm they were going to meet up at. Keith didn’t live very far, and said it wouldn’t take him more than fifteen minutes to walk there, but Lance had been waiting for ages

“If he doesn’t get his butt here in the next 2 minutes I’m just going in to buy a pecan pie. Pumpkin pie is so overdone, and you know Allura is going to bring homemade tarts- they could be pecan, but you know they’ll be that cinnamon pumpkin whipped stuff. Thats her specialty… Oh! Tell Pidge I heard that! Puh-lease, we’re so doing the wagon ride. Twice now.”

“Lance!” Keith hollered from the edge of the parking lot. He scrunched his nose at the grating pain in his throat from shouting, but was too glad to finally be there. He had his side-slung bag over his shoulder and his hands stuffed into his pockets. The wind whipped through the parking lot and blasted his hair out of order again. The cold wind ripped through his clothes and made his nose start to drip as a shiver jolted up his back. None the less he started jogging over to Lance’s car.

“Oh shit, the boy, he here. Look I’ll get Keith to call on speaker while we’re driving, gotta go.” Lance swiped off the call and turned to watch Keith half-run-half-walk through the crowded lot. He crossed his arms on the roof of his car and watched with a half smile. “About time! I was going to shop without y- What is that?”

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hey dude watch this it’s so sick *takes my glasses off and flings them thru the air w/ all of my might only to have them fly back around like a boomerang and smack me directly in the face*

anonymous asked:

Okok so it can be a scenario or a list of things idc buuuuut super insecure MC going to an art exhibit with V to find out that his entire gallery are beautiful pictures of her /a lot of them are nudes too because insecure but V obviously finds her beautiful/ and he wins?? And everyone finds the photos incredible. And she's never felt more happy and beautiful. I just want V to have a good happy damn ending with MC

This is wonderful yes! I’ll write this as V has his eyesight.

~Okay but I changed it just a little bit, I’m sorry. I love the idea but I also don’t want anyone putting nudes up of someone without their consent? So MC has said yes to the photos but hasn’t seen them so that’s the surprise okay? I hope you don’t mind!


Fluffy fluff <3

Word Count: 1,278

     “Don’t be nervous,” V spoke in that calm way of his.

     It was easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one about to be put on display for everyone to see. Months ago he had asked if you would be his sole subject for an upcoming gallery. It was his big comeback after getting the eye surgery, and the only thing he said he wanted to shoot-was you. How he talked you into this, you’ll never know. Well…you did know. It’s because he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, and the way he talked had you believe it yourself for the first time. But staring at your reflection in the mirror now, thinking about all those people who had been anxiously waiting for his return and packed in to the space like sardines gawking at the photos, your stomach was doing flips. What if they didn’t like them? V hadn’t even let you see the pictures, he said he ‘wanted it to be a surprise.’ You were standing in front of the bathroom mirror taking deep breaths to calm yourself and fumbling with the stupid clip of your necklace.

     V moved your hair to the side and took the clasp from your hands, kissing your neck softly after securing it. He rested his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you from behind. He smelled of his cologne.

     “Ready?” he hummed excitedly.

     “No,” you pouted.

     “It’s going to be alright,” he chuckled, “have faith in me.”

      Just as you expected, the space was packed. An uproarious applause incited by your arrival lasted for what seemed like an hour, and your cheeks were feeling hot. A few faces stuck out in the crowd of strangers. People you’d had dinners with or photographers friends of V’s. The room was buzzing and you were feeling sick.

     “I need a glass of champagne,” you squeezed his hand.

     “Alright, love. Wait right here, I’ll be back,” he replied before disappearing.

     You had tried to avoid looking at the pictures but you supposed you had no choice now. The memory attached to each photo replayed in your mind while looking at them. That close up of your face. He had pulled the camera up and snapped that picture in the middle of a conversation, “your eyes are sparkling so brightly right now,” he’s said.

     And that angled photograph on you among tall trees looking towards the sky. You’d both been out on a nature hike that day and you stopped to admire the sun shining through the leaves.

     And the black and white portrait of you nude on the bed, body parts peeking out through the silk sheet. You almost choked. That was taken one night after you’d just finished having sex. He’d rolled out of the bed and reached for his camera.

     “V, no…” you had put your hands over your face.

     “Please…you’ve never looked more beautiful. I’d love to capture this for the gallery. The flush of your cheeks and your messy hair framing your face…you look sexy and elegant and confident. Please, would you let me?”

     “Well…alright…but keep the compliments going,” you laughed.

     You had forgotten about that one. Oh god, where was that champagne? Looking around you caught soundbites and snippets of conversation.

     “This really is his best work yet.”

     “What a comeback!”

     “These are really inspiring, I’ve already chosen the one I’d like to purchase.”

     “This whole collection is so beautiful and raw, I’m in love!”

     It was almost too much to take in. People were liking photos of…you? Buying photos of you? It was like being in the twilight zone. How many times had you cried in a dressing room when something didn’t fit right, or looked at yourself in the mirror after a shower with disgust? And now here you were, body on display for the world to see, and they were enamored with you? At some point in your trail of thoughts a smile had spread on your lips. Perhaps you hadn’t given V enough credit…

     “That’s you, correct? You’re the girl in these?” a tall man had taken a spot next to you.

     “Oh…um, yes. I am,” you nodded and blushed.

     “These are excellent. I am particularly interested in this one here,” he gestured to a photo of you smiling with his cocktail, “what modeling agency are you with? I think I have a few opportunities for you. Would you like to go to dinner maybe, talk things over?” he took a confident sip of his drink.

     “Careful, buddy. Don’t steal her away from me now,” V appeared with your champagne glass and handed it to you, chuckling and slipping his free hand around your waist.

     “V! My apologies, I didn’t realize… Well, can’t blame me for trying, right?” he shrugged, “excuse me, then,” he took a few steps and mingled himself into another group.

     “I’m sorry I took so long. Every step I was getting pulled in for a chat”

     “It seems like everyone is raving about your work,” you noted before taking a much needed sip.

     “Yes. But what do you think?” he replied in that serious tone, like he was nervous to even ask.

     “I…I love it. I’m shocked, but I love it.”

     “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear you say that. I know you were hesitant at first. But, I wanted everyone-including you, to see just how beautiful you really are. To see you as I see you. Come on, let’s look at them all together,” he beamed.

     It was a night of praises and cheers. It seemed everyone was pining over the photos and praising your looks. Every group had something wonderful to say. ‘You’re a lucky man, V’ ‘What a beautiful couple you two make’ ‘I’d take her photos, too’ ‘Will you be doing a second collection like this one?’

     As the evening dwindled down you felt like floating. All of your fears and insecurities seemed so small and insignificant now as V held your hand and kissed your forehead in pure joy at the responses you both had received.

     “V, all of the works have sold! I can’t believe it. What a night!,” the woman who ran the gallery was gushing. She might have even been a little buzzed off of champagne in celebration of the success.

     “I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled.

     “But there is a man who wants to talk to you. It’s about that photo, the one you didn’t want sold?”

     “Oh? Alright then, where is he?”

     She led you both to a large man in a thick black coat. He was holding a drink in his gloved hand, his eyes transfixed on that black and white portrait of you on the bed.

     “Ah, the man of the hour!” he shook V’s hand, “now you can explain to me why this lady here says I can’t buy this piece.”

     “I’m glad you like it,” he laughed, “but it’s just as she said. It’s not for sale. I wanted to add it to the gallery, but I’m afraid I can’t part with it.”

     “I’m a determined man, V. I’ve been a fan of your work for a long time now. This photo is emotional and brilliant. This woman looks fierce but elegant. It’s truly captivating. I don’t like to take no for an answer. Now, if it’s a matter of money…”

     V couldn’t help but smile and nod, all three of you were now gazing at the picture.

     “Right you are,” V replied, “but I’m sorry. This one is just for me.”