this is less terrible


Sweaty running gif! Hard lifting gif!

It is not always a pretty workout but a non pretty workout I will take before no workout! 😊💪 my back and arms are pretty sore which is fantastic! My form for the lift was getting rough but I am glad to have put in the work! 😂

Yesterday I got to meet up with my best friend and a guy I have great admiration for! Him, his wife, and girls were on there way to Grammies house for spring break and were passing through while we were visiting my fam! (They moved from NM a couple years ago)

After further review I like the way I look next to my buddy, I can see my progress! He has lost a lot of weight too and that is awesome!

We are enjoying time with my family, I have missed my Mammau (grandma) terribly! We grew up less that a mile away from each other most of my life and this 1000 mile business is for the birds!

Hope y'all are having a splendid day!


Drinking or being sexy or smoking never really held any allure or excitement for me. I wanted to wear a sports bra up until I was like, 22, I couldn’t care less. So I guess I’ve just never been in a terrible rush to grow up, or be seen as a woman all of a sudden.


Here are some Valentine’s day cards! 

Don’t have any pick up lines? Don’t worry fam, i got u 

I’ve wanted to make these since i was like 15 and it fINALLY HAPPENED WOO 

Feel free to use them! Wanna write your own (possibly less terrible) pick up lines?

Slytherins and decision making

We might be cunning but that doesn’t make me any less of a terrible decision maker…

• Having been ill for the last 3 days I’m still going to be awake in the early hours of the morning reading.

• Got work to finish for college? Yeah… but I really want to draw Credence Barebone.

• Need to send emails to communicate with my lecturers but you know, procrastination.

• *insert Ravenclaw friend to shout all things you need to get done at you*

• *some how manages to get everything done*

Slytherins might be ambitious but without inspiration there is no motivation.

‘Tis The Season

Just a little holiday-themed fluff to try and ease me back into this whole writing thing. Ignores Cat leaving CatCo, because I still like to pretend that that never happened. Happy holidays, lovely people; I hope you have a wonderful (and safe!) few days :)

Cat is quiet as she presses open her front door and slips inside, smiles when she hears the sound of laughter echoing from the kitchen down the hall.

It’s a sound that, up until just a few months ago, had been so rare in her apartment – she was used to coming home from work to find Carter curled up with a book or his homework or playing video games, with Ella nearby watching him with a quiet but careful eye.

Now she is much more likely to find him chasing after the woman that has lit up both of their lives with so much brightness and joy, and today is no exception, as Cat kicks off her heels and pads down the hallway towards the sound of Carter’s voice.

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shipper trash gandalf: part one

#don’t worry gandalf #we’ve all been there #he’ll come around

anonymous asked:

Bokuaka, relief.... for the prompts :))

Akaashi is late.

This is a sentence that almost never happens, and it scares Koutarou a lot. Koutarou himself is often late to a variety of things: school, dentist appointments, weekend hangouts, buses, dates. The only thing he’s not late to is volleyball practice.

But Akaashi. Akaashi is not someone who arrives late—he doesn’t even arrive on time, he arrives early. He once admitted to Koutarou that it makes him anxious when he keeps other people waiting, so he’d rather take the earlier bus and scout out the place where he can see the other person coming. Koutarou doesn’t really understand, but it’s what makes Akaashi Akaashi, so he just shrugged and apologized for being late to their shopping trip.

Akaashi is late today.

Koutarou has checked his phone twenty-four times in sixteen minutes. He’s paced back and forth in front of the train station enough times that the security guard is eyeing him warily. He’s sent thirteen texts and seven voicemails to Akaashi’s phone, but there hasn’t been a single reply. Koutarou’s hands are shaking. He’s scared.

He pulls out his phone again, meaning to dial Kuroo or Konoha or someone who has a calmer, better head on their shoulders than he does. Someone who can tell him to sit down and stop overreacting. Someone who can tell him that Akaashi’s just fine, he’s probably overslept because Koutarou kept him up last night video-chatting him about his latest term paper, maybe he got held up helping an old lady find her cat because Akaashi’s nice that way, even though he doesn’t really like cats. Yeah, Akaashi’s just fine. He’s on his way. His phone is dead. He’s not dead. 

Akaashi is late, and Koutarou is on his knees in front of the station stairs, blocking people’s path but he’s breathing a little too fast, clutching his phone a little too hard, panicking a little too much. There are concerned voices above his head, but his vision is all blurry. Is he crying? Again? What a baby, Koutarou is. 


He still doesn’t understand why Akaashi would want to arrive early to his appointments, this waiting game is no fun, no fun at all.


There’s a slight pressure on his shoulders, and Koutarou glances up to find familiar green eyes watching him in quiet worry. It takes him a moment to catch his breath again, to recognize the boy with the messy curls kneeling in front of him.

“A-Akaaagsheee,” he says, but Akaashi understands him just fine. “Y-You’re l-l-late.”

Akaashi nods. He helps him up, leading him to the side so people aren’t staring at them anymore. He offers Koutarou tissues from his pocket, always prepared, but he keeps a hand on Koutarou, letting him know he’s here. He’s here. 

“My phone died this morning,” Akaashi says, “and I had to take my neighbour’s kids to their daycare. It’s not an excuse to make you worry though. I’m sorry.”

Koutarou shakes his head. His hand is probably squeezing too hard on Akaashi’s hand, but the other boy doesn’t complain. The panic has receded, leaving behind heavy relief, crashing through Koutarou hard enough to make him want to sit down. So he does. Akaashi follows suit, sitting closer than usual, close enough to press his side against Koutarou.

“You’re here now. It’s okay.”

“I’m here,” Akaashi agrees.

feel free to send in a prompt!


Way too many puppy eyes…

I’ve been thinking lately about recovery from my eating disorder. For months on end, I was sure that I would relapse. It wasn’t that I wanted to or even felt that strong of urges, but more that it seemed to be a thing people did, and I was stressed and depressed, and had the opportunity to, so why wouldn’t I?

For whatever reason, though, I didn’t. I kept eating normally and all that jazz. I’m almost two years into recovery. I honestly take my functioning for granted; I’ve been learning math and classical Indian dance and languages. I have showed up on exchange as much as I could, and really implemented healthy coping skills.

I was just musing about the possibility of things going downhill this summer, and then my host mom knocked on my door to give me some ice cream. I was like, oh, ice cream, great! And then I ate it, end of story. Something my old dietitian said to me once was that I was afraid of both being okay and not okay, which is probably really apt. Relapse is always a possibility, and at least for me, right now, it would be a conscious choice. To quote @velvettruce, “I am afraid that I will fail at greater things than this.” The thing is, the stakes of my life are higher now.

The focus is not on my using behaviors, but how I can (potentially) use a postposition in Hindi. Expectations are higher, and I think that’s a good thing. The idea of maintaining recovery indefinitely is overwhelming, and yet, I might as well. Relapse would give me a break; it would be safe and familiar and what-have-you, but I want better for myself. I have proven, time and time again, that I’m willing to do what it takes in order to ensure that I have a future.



This took more time than what I hoped for, but anyways is pretty cute once looking at it complete

also, before you all think these are in perfect sync, this is Kozmotis with open eyes

terrible and wonderful

A bit of an AU where Killian remembers and Emma does not. Not really speculation, more just inspired by recent spoilers and the thought of Emma “meeting” Killian in full pirate swagger mode.

Killian Jones has lived through a lot; some of it terrible, some of it less so, and some of it (the smallest portion, but the one he treasures most) rather wonderful.

This current predicament definitely ranks among the terrible—ripped from the new home he’s only just begun to build, away from his family, his friends, his love. Cursed, not like the others to forget, but to remember. He remembers, even as he walks across the deck of his ship, acting like the ruthless captain he once was. He remembers as he listens to talk about the royal family and their beautiful daughter, the princess Emma.

The woman he loves. The woman who loves him. The woman who has forgotten that he even exists.

And once again, he is powerless against the magic that has torn them all apart. Part of him is relieved that it’s him, this time; the last time, it was Emma who remembered, Emma who had to bear the burden of knowing who she was amidst people who did not remember, Emma who had to look at him and see the total lack of recognition in his face. He would not wish that on her again.

But she was always the one with magic. She’s the Savior. He’s a pirate. All he has is a steel hook, a sharp blade, and a silver tongue.

And the finest ship in all the realms at his command, but that no longer carries the same meaning it once did.

He doesn’t know what to do. He does not expect her to figure it out.

But when she walks into the tavern one night, he knows her immediately. She’s wearing a peasant’s dress, similar to one he pilfered for her long ago (so long ago, hah!) but more modest in cut. She carries herself with the same sure grace, the same commanding air that he swears he would recognise anywhere.

She sits alone, and he can’t help it. He’s drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And it’s such a bad idea, for so many reasons, and he’s begging for trouble and he knows it…

He walks over.

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Twitter unveils new anti-abuse tools that could help combat harassment in the Trump era

On Tuesday, Twitter announced updates to its policy and product that aim to make the digital wilderness a little less terrible to navigate. These changes couldn’t have come at a more vital time. Besides retraining staff on its harassment policies and adding a mute function, Twitter is providing better tools to users.

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I’ve run out of the strength it takes to be nice - and niceness is not an innate quality of the human race. It’s a facade we construct to make ourselves seem a little less terrible, a little less like wolves. We were never designed to be nice. We were made to be kind, when it suited us, and cruel, when it didn’t.

I’m terribly afraid that kindness doesn’t suit me anymore, and that you’ll be dealing with the realities of that change. I hope you choke on me.

—  Feedback, by Mira Grant