#magpie inflatables

[willgrahamsbecoming]

what is your opinion on the bunnings Christmas magpies

HKHKJSJKDHSD

KILL! !!!!!! ! ! DESTROY

[just-another-bite]

two friends having a sleepover, one of whom, decides it might be fun if the other put on a couple pounds. Just in good natured intent though, honest.

So during the night, she grabs all the cans and bottle of soda that she can find, getting around a quarter of their contents to fit in a large punch bowl she had laying around. She dips one end of a funnel hose into the bowl and slips the other into her friends mouth, taping her lips to the tube to prevent it from slipping out. She begins pouring the soda into the funnel, watching her friend choke for a moment before instinctively swallowing, breathing through her nose as her throat bobbed. In all honesty, she's surprised her friend hasn't woken up yet, but she won't complain. By the end of the first bowl, she gently pried her friend's shirt up to inspect her handiwork, and she's met with the sight of her friends bloated belly, rounded as though she's gorged herself on a hearty meal. She smiles and gently rubs the curve of it, admiring the slosh and give that the soda provides, alongside the gurgles of the carbonation trapped inside.

She prepared the second bowl, pouring slower this time considering how tight her friends belly already seems. She hears her friend grunt, the occasional whimper leaving her lips as she continues chugging. What brings a smile to her lips is when she sees her friend's shirt begin to lift up, clinging more tightly to her friends chest as her belly domes, swaying gently with each chug. When she finished the second bowl, she crouched at her friends legs, noticing how her belly now blocked her friends face. The skin is obviously straining, a bright pink gracing it's surface as she reaches forward and begins rubbing it again. The churning of soda in her friends guts is a nice choir as she watches the show of her friends stomach.

She's onto the third bowl, watching her friend begin to struggle. Sweats on her brow, stretch marks on her stomach as the soda fights for space inside an already cramped stomach that must be nearing its full capacity. She hears more whined and grunts, before the bowl is finally empty and her friend is left laying on the bed looking nearly double 9 months pregnant with a quivering and sloshing stomach.

What else are friends for, right?

[saintsenara]

the war of the roses - a snippet

sirius black/severus snape explicit read here

i'm hoping to finish this chapter in time for the weekend. in the meantime, have a snippet of sirius remembering that harry has two parents.

Harry bounces alongside him and chatters away about nothing in particular - about Ron and Hermione and summer and brooms and breakfast - and his voice mingles with the birdsong. He walks on the balls of his feet - just like Lily always did - and he’s wearing odd socks and he has knobbly knees and he’s got a stupid bruise on his thigh because he and Ron were competing to see who could punch the other the hardest while Hermione looked at them like they were idiots.

And it all makes him seem so young and so real. He’s no longer a ghost - a composite of memories, made blurry by the fog of Azkaban. The cold is receding and Sirius can see his own hand in front of his face and Harry’s just… a boy. His boy. His silly, funny lad - a scoop of bravado and a pinch of uncertainty wrapped in a sweatshirt - and he’s only sorry that the thing which kept him from understanding that earlier - from knowing Harry as he is and offering Harry himself as he is in return - was his own refusal to look.

They stop, lean on the gate overlooking an orchard. A pair of magpies - screeching and chuckling - are picking through the emerald-coloured grass in search of worms.

‘My OWL results came this morning,’ Harry says, dropping this information - which, as a man of thirty-six, Sirius thinks he probably ought to have led with, but which ranks, for some bizarre teenage reason, much lower on his list of priorities than going over the minutiae of his summer plans with his mates - into the conversation.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah.’ Harry grins - a little cocky, a little relieved - and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of his jeans.

And Sirius realises - as he smooths out the creases and looks down the page - that he never lets himself remember how excited he’d been - back when Harry was born and he held him in his arms as he squeaked and dribbled - about the fact that he’d get to take pride in his godson’s ordinary childhood experiences, that he’d get to guide him through the everyday rites of passage of all young wizards.

He’s spent half a lifetime having to be so proud of Harry for wriggling out of Death’s clutches over and over again that everything else has been subsumed by it.

Being proud of him for getting his OWLs is like drinking Felix Felicis.

‘Fucking hell, Harry. These are brilliant.’

Harry adopts a fake-disappointed expression - although the sheer glee glinting behind his glasses renders the exercise pointless - and sighs theatrically. ‘Obviously I’m completely devvoed that I didn’t get an Outstanding in Divination… I was in tears all morning. It’s my favourite subject.’

‘I’m more upset that you didn’t get a Troll in History of Magic, to be honest.’

‘I know! It’s fucking outrageous! I ran out halfway through the bloody exam and I still managed to get marks.’

Sirius laughs. ‘No wonder there was something in the Prophet this morning whining about grade inflation. The examiners are giving out points just for turning up.’

‘What’s the world coming to, eh?’

Something flickers beneath Harry’s pantomime disappointment. It vanishes - like the catch of sunlight on a dragonfly’s wing - but still… Sirius notices it.

‘They are brilliant results, Harry. I mean it.’

‘Yeah…’ He takes the piece of paper back, scrutinises it. A furrow appears over the bridge of his nose. ‘Yeah. I’m still a bit - I dunno - a bit miffed about Potions though…’

‘An E in Potions is nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘It is when it means I won’t be able to take it for NEWT… Snape only lets you in the class if you get an Outstanding.’

‘You wanted to voluntarily spend two years with Snape?’

Harry’s shoulders stiffen a bit. ‘I wasn’t planning on taking Potions for the good of my health. I need the NEWT to be able to apply for the Auror Office. That’s’ - he shifts awkwardly on his feet, like sixteen-year-old boys always do when they’re forced to shed their nonchalant cloaks and admit they have ambitions for the future - ‘what I want to do when I leave school. But yeah…’ He shrugs and stares forward - stares out across the orchard - and the setting sun turns the lenses of his glasses into pools of molten amber. ‘That dream’s over, I guess…’

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘They require a NEWT in Potions -’

‘- to join the Auror Office straight from Hogwarts. But that’s the least common route in by far - most of them start off in other fields and then apply to be Aurors once they’ve got a few years of specialised training under their belt. Kingsley started out in Defensive Spell Research. Scrimgeour was a lawyer. Mad-Eye did a decade in Accra as a Curse Breaker - he reckons an Adze bit him and that’s why his hair started receding -’

‘Of course he does.’

‘There are dozens of ways into the Auror Office. They’re always desperate for people who have a solid grasp on the more metaphysical side of magic - you know, portents and prophecies and so on. You could start out as an Unspeakable, breeze through the two-year probation, and then switch careers.’

A slither of hope makes its way into Harry’s face. ‘I can’t believe McGonagall didn’t mention that…’

‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? She wanted you to get an Outstanding in Potions so she could rub it in Snape’s face.’

‘Ah.’

‘That’s what she does every time you beat Slytherin at Quidditch.’

‘I’m not looking forward to her realising I’ve let her down then…’ He laughs. ‘But who am I kidding?’ he says, his shoulders sagging again. ‘I don’t have a couple of years to fuck around being an Unspeakable. What good will that be against Voldemort? I’m already struggling to think of how I’ve got a chance in hell of killing him as it is…’

And there he is - Voldemort - bursting into their summer evening and sucking all the warmth from the air, interrupting their normal conversation about jobs and school with his hulking, malevolent presence.

‘But you said it yourself, didn’t you?’ Sirius says softly. ‘You versus Voldemort doesn’t come down to strategy or politics or knowing how to duel. It’s weirder than that. The training you’d get as an Unspeakable is probably going to wind up being much more useful than spending six months in Mad-Eye’s seminars about elementary wand safety.’

‘Yeah…’ Harry examines the paper containing his results again. When he looks back up his expression is considerably more smug. ‘They’re not bad grades, are they? All things considered…’

‘They certainly aren’t.’

‘I’m happy with them.’

‘You’ll be Head Boy before we know it.’

Harry shudders. ‘Just like Voldemort.’

‘I was going to say just like your dad.’

‘Oh yeah.’ He snorts. ‘Well, that’s a lot nicer…’ He stows the paper back in his pocket, makes a satisfied sort of hum, and starts to walk again.

And Sirius follows him, watches his lolloping, bird-like gait, and is struck by - in his worries, in his disappointment - how unlike James he suddenly seems.

James never brooded over an exam result in his life. He’d just assumed - they’d both just assumed - that they’d breeze through life - picking up top grades, strolling in any jobs they wanted (if they even wanted jobs… it wasn’t like either of them would ever need to work for a living) - and be fine.

The morning their OWL results had arrived - they’d been reclining on the sofa chatting shit while Effie bustled around the kitchen making them breakfast - they’d each opened the envelope, run a cursory glance down the page, tossed it aside like an apple core, and spent the day messing around on their brooms.

(And laughing about how Moony and Wormy - so much swottier, so much more try-hard, so much less clever than the two of them - were probably in bits.)

But Harry’s like Lily.

She was always much more studious than James. She wasn’t a neek, obviously - she had just as little time for Mary and Diana and What’s-Her-Face’s flapping about essays and house points as they both did - but she was someone who took the whole “learning about magic is the reason we’re here” part of Hogwarts seriously, instead of assuming she already knew everything better than the teachers…

(Well, she had to, didn’t she? That was the truth he and James never bothered acknowledging. They could fuck about and leave everything to the last minute and trust in their own brilliance because the blood in their veins ran pure.)

[arodeku]

"Bumping slits." "Eat my pigeon." "Choke harder." "Three inches which way?" "It ends two inches from the hole." "It's a double-ender. You can either go in the top end or the bottom end." "Have you been empowered to get a tattoo by your slit??" "Oh I hate this little teasing edge bit-" "(singing) He cannot get it in. He's right by the entrance but he can't find it." "That has been inflated." "Sonic! Is that you? What did they do to him? My boy!!" "I'm in the water now. Blob." "This is what the inside of. Some of my mind looks like." "What happens if you get bopped by the hammer? Do you just become a flat ball?" "You die in real life." "Are you actually strocking my freaking pig?" "Oh that was almost full. Sex." "What?" "Well, y'know. That was almost straight sending it in." "Like sex??" "Like sexual,, feeling moment." "Yeah." "'Gender,' said The Magpie." "I GOT FUCKING SMACKED." "(Recites the entire magpie rhyme????)" "Just a slit between them." "Why do I hear canon fire?" "OH he's pissing." "Out of his hands?" "Yep that's how gingerbread people work; do you not know anything about anatomy." "I usually go for the head first." "You reckon I could get it between his legs?" "Yeah, right through the. slit." "Oooooh, nooooo. Get your goose out. (honk)" "You weren't high enough last time." "(awful australian accent) Killed it." "Choose your hole." "Yes. Into the man." "(excessive moaning)" "Backwards into that pink hole."

[hourlyeternaldiva]

Oh well I knew about that stuff with Targent and the Nautilus Chamber because (Throws off my conveniently convincing costume) I was actually BRONEV the whole time! I’ve been adding asks relating to the events of this movie since the blog began, as this specific Tumblr url is actually the oft-forgotten FIFTH Azran site! And, you know, this entire time, I have been present since this movie’s inception! I took the close-up picture of Grosky’s chest hair! I deliberately delayed the frame where Emmy kicks the guy in the balls! I was the one who convinced Masakazu Hashimoto to add the really weird inflation scene for no reason other than to cause mild discomfort to you and all your followers! And the whole time…

I’VE BEEN HIDING BEHIND THE WALL ON THE BLOG’S BANNER, WHERE NOBODY HAS NOTICED MY PRESENCE UNTIL NOW! Even the thorough analyses of @magpie-trinkets were not enough to consider there could possibly be someone behind that wall!

This blog will be my Azran Heritage Posts blog, unless anyone dares to stop my plans! Unless your pitiful followers can successfully combat my efforts, you’ll have Brambled your last Takato, Descole!

(Also please do not spoil Azran Legacy on 3DS for me because I have been meaning to get around to it at some point and I’m deliberately trying to avoid plot details for now! We here at Targent are big 3DS fans and we play Kid Icarus Uprising a lot!)

BRONEV ?! IMPOSSIBLE... I WILL NOT LET YOU STEAL THAT OF WHICH I HAVE EARNED !!!!!

[tinylongwing]

top five birdiest locations you've been to?

Oooh good question! I don't have like, hard numbers on these so they're not super well ranked except for by vibes.

First is NE Queensland, Australia. I did a semester abroad there in undergrad and my god the sheer number of new birds all around! I saw so many absolute treasures! From birds of paradise like Victoria's Riflebird, to absolute icons like the Galah and the Southern Cassowary. 10/10 bird destination.

Second I'll put southern Nicaragua. All the diversity of Costa Rica, with birds like Scarlet Macaw, King Vulture, and Keel-billed Toucan. Hundreds of amazing species. Absolutely unforgettable. I'm so thankful that I've been able to work there on and off over the years. I've traveled most of the country but the southern portion has the highest bird diversity from what I've found.

Third, let's go the US Southeast. I think generally it's accepted that this has the highest bird diversity in the US. I've spent plenty of time in Arkansas, Louisiana, and Florida and seen so many excellent birds there! Florida in particular gets a special mention for endemic treasures like the Florida Scrub-Jay.

Fourth is just a smidge to the west over in Texas, particularly the portion along the whole Rio Grande. Highlights for me include Whooping Crane, Aplomado Falcon, and all three US kingfisher species! Plus Plain Chachalaca which is just hilariously noisy. Big fan.

For five... Man now it's hard to pick, I have several places sort of on par with each other. Hawaii is goofy because of all the introduced species, giving it a ridiculously inflated diversity on top of the absolutely amazing native species. South Korea was really fun, though I went in winter when diversity was relatively low, and still got to see fun birds like Azure-winged Magpie, Eurasian Goshawk, and Varied Tit without even leaving Seoul. And then of course like, California has a ton of species and some of the most incredible vagrants that just show up at random sometimes.

I think that's eight locations now so I'll just stop, haha.

[harrison-abbott]

A Small Start

When Pat woke up he felt pretty bad. He drank some of the water from his pint glass. It gave him momentary respite. Then he was lying there looking up at the ceiling. With yellow light beyond the curtains. Dehydration across his whole body. “How did I ever get to this point?” he said, quietly, to himself. Eventually he got up. His hair swished in his eyes. Had been doing that for weeks; badly needed a haircut. His face always seemed to look worse in the mirror in the mornings. But, maybe he shouldn’t be thinking about his appearance at all. He put his coat on and walked out into the street. With a brief wonder over the daylight that smarted the eyes. Pat wished that there were some things in life that he had done way differently when he was younger. He supposed that was the irony with older age: you were more mature, now, but you wished you’d been this way, back then. Hmm. Maybe he couldn’t call himself ‘mature’. It was when Pat was bathed in the sobering sunlight that he most felt like a nobody. He walked down to the supermarket. A pair of magpies flumed overhead in brilliant black n white and he saluted both of them. When he got to the supermarket carpark he remembered the story of the man who had been stabbed here. A few years back, there’d been a stabbing. And it was odd how, when it happened, he didn’t know about it until he saw it on the news: considering how close he lived to the building. Pat went inside the market. There was an odd mixture of workers in there with different nationalities. One of them was a very pretty woman who was hard to look at. Pat wondered whether he’d ever be with another woman in his life … Maybe not. Boo hoo. It wasn’t the most important thing. Pat figured that if he could work on survival, and keep his health in check, then he could think about other things such as those. He picked up some humous and a bag of tomatoes and a cucumber. The prices had gone up 10p since last time. Inflation. Hey: at least the city he lived in wasn’t being bombed to smithereens. … There were entire sections for the Easter weekend coming up; as in, a whole cacophony of chocolate eggs. Pat didn’t eat chocolate anymore, or eggs. Though when he was a kid he used to do the painting thing with them and roll them in the garden, the hard boiled eggs. It was odd how mass atheism in this country had turned into millions of overturn on chocolate products in bulky plastic boxes, sold by among the larger corporations in the world. Pat wondered what Jesus must think of it now, if indeed he was watching from Heaven. … Pat took his stuff to the checkout and scanned the items. There was an older chap there with a white fuzzy beard, who was always friendly and chatty with the customers. Even though it seemed like such a gruelling job, you never saw him in a grouchy mood; and Pat wished he could be like that, like him, most of the time. Pat went back home, up the long road. Maybe being a nobody was fairly normal. He was only 31. He hoped he could get to the age of 40 without dying. It’s just that it was getting harder to move as fast at this age and he really had no clue how his future would play out, and it often seemed that he could use his imagination well in certain ways, but not at all in others. He got back into the house. There was no other option than to deal with his issues. He went up into his room and reopened the book that he’d been reading last night. This was a small start.                                                                 

[thefingersofgod]

Just gonna add and rate some birds in my (London) backyard:

blue tit 2/10. Tiny, adorable; doing tiny adorable violence to the aphids on my roses.

great tit: 2/10. Same as above, only slightly larger.

sparrow: 5/10. There's a gang of 5-25 of them and sometimes they're wonderful and best friends and get along great, and then suddenly they're screaming at each other and flying off in a huff. Violence level: it's prom night, and two frenemies just showed up in the same dress.

dunnock: 1/10. Slightly larger than a sparrow, entirely less violent.

wood pigeon: 0/10. Have you seen this bird. It's like someone took a street pigeon and inflated it. Very hard to take seriously. No violence detected.

blackbird: 3/10. Blackbirds have that glint in their eyes that suggests they're extremely capable of violence; they simply choose not to particpate.

european robin: 6/10. Cute af, but we all know that a) you're singing because you hate other robins and want to let them know you're standing on your patch, reading to eff some ess up, and b) you eat a lot of worms.

magpie: 9/10. Magpie violence is entirely mischief-related; they sit in my trees or on the eaves and chatter at my cat and it drives him mad. One violence point is docked for lack of actual violent intent.

crow: 8/10. Not quite as devoted to mischief as their cousins, the magpies, but too smart not to be scary.

sparrowhawk: 10/10. The sparrowhawk has discovered the sparrows in my garden.

Honourable mentions to the various gulls that fly overhead, screaming at each other (espcially the black-headed gull; my god, the noises they produce), the ring-neck parakeets that aren't at all interested in us, the water rails that honked at us once from like 50 feet overhead, and the goldfinches, long-tailed tits and wrens that all live nearby but don't come into my garden, darn them. And the swifts and swallows in the summer, of course!

Rating the birds in my backyard by tendency toward violence

Northern Cardinal, 4/10

I'm sometimes worried the male is sexually harassing the female but I'm pretty sure they're just doing some elaborate public pickup roleplay. The rest of us didn't agree to participate in your kink, guys.

American Robin, 1/10

Literally just some dude hanging out. Never bothered anyone but worms. Big fan of the way you just stand there in the middle of the grass like you forgot what you were supposed to be doing.

House Sparrow, 10/10

You're a gang. You're participating in gang violence. There's ten billion of you living in a single wood pile and it's been civil war for three years now. When will the bloodshed end?

Tufted Titmouse, 1/10

A shy baby. A pretty little guy. I saw you on the neighbor's garage roof and time stopped. There were anime sparkles around you. Come back.

European Starling, 9/10

Why is it always you? Listen, I know, I KNOW the sparrows are the problem, and YET. When the fighting starts, it's always you in the middle of it, provoking them and then screaming like you're an innocent bystander defending yourself. I'm onto you.

Carolina Wren, 3/10

This rating is not for physical violence, which you don't engage in, but for your role as an incurable narc. A tattle tale. I know they're fighting again, okay? I see it. Our yard has been a warzone for years, you don't have to make a big announcement every time someone misbehaves.

Eastern Wood-Peewee, 0/10

If this were "birds who think they're better than everyone else," you'd get 10/10.

Red-bellied Woodpecker, 6/10

It's a utility pole. It's not a tree. You're surrounded by trees that are full of bugs. But there you are, on the utility pole. Committing vandalism.

American Crow, unrated

For who am I to cast judgment on the actions of La Famiglia? I assume you are doing what is best for the neighborhood. If I could, though, without criticism, make a single observation. That when large numbers of you gather in the ominous dead cottonwood - no? No, you're right. None of my business.

Great Crested Flycatcher, 5/10

Frankly, I think you could be doing more. I think your name implies a great potential. I think you should massacre the insects. I think your beak should drip with viscera.

Stay tuned for more criminal activity!

[just-another-bite]

The idea of letting someone lead me giddily out to a buffet and just load up my plate. Steaks? Sure. Macaroni piled high? Sure. Enough soda to make me a burping mess? Hell yeah. Just sitting there and letting someone sit on my lap as they keep feeding me, my pants splitting as I groan around another mouthful, my skin tight as they pat it reassuringly and tell me how good I'm doing. The best part is the dessert though. They simply have me walk, though it's more akin to a waddle, over to the soft serve machine. Letting me sit down before attaching a tube to the dispenser and letting me put it into my mouth. They begin to hold down the switch. A few seconds later, my stomach gurgles. A few seconds more and I watch it puff forward with another roll of fat as I wipe my face of sweat. Each swallow sends my stomach gurgling as it domes in front of me, a ball of lard between my legs as I sit. I think the person will finally lay off the ice cream, but instead they seem invigorated. Continuing to hold down the dispenser as the weight drags me forward, my hands gripping the side of the dispenser as my stomach fills every viable inch between my chest and the floor, my stance widening as the fat rounds between my legs as well, soon leaving me balancing on a yoga ball sized ball of lard underneath me. They pet my head and tell me how good I did and I whine softly around the tube, cheeks fattened with pudge. They reach over and rub my straining skin as I lay there still swallowing.

That'd definitely be my ideal date.

[alexanderwales]

Went looking for a citation for this.

'The thieving magpie'? No evidence for attraction to shiny objects was published in the Journal of Animal Cognition in 2015.

It is widely accepted in European culture that magpies (Pica pica) are unconditionally attracted to shiny objects and routinely steal small trinkets such as jewellery, almost as a compulsion. Despite the long history of this folklore, published accounts of magpies collecting shiny objects are rare and empirical evidence for the behaviour is lacking. The latter is surprising considering that an attraction to bright objects is well documented in some bird species. The present study aims to clarify whether magpies show greater attraction to shiny objects than non-shiny objects when presented at the same time. We did not find evidence of an unconditional attraction to shiny objects in either captive or free-living birds. Instead, all objects elicited responses indicating neophobia in free-living birds. We suggest that humans notice when magpies occasionally pick up shiny objects because they believe the birds find them attractive, while it goes unnoticed when magpies interact with less eye-catching items. The folklore may therefore result from observation bias and cultural inflation of orally transmitted episodic events.

Funny enough, I read this paper on SciHub, and what's their mascot?

We wrote the "birds like shiny things" AU we wanted and deserved.

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[this-goat-is-on-fire]

A Trip to the Beach by Bingo

[harrison-abbott]

You open your eyes and find that you’re still alive. Right-o. Up you get and you play a videogame made in the early 00s on the PlayStation 2. With the neon colours of the retro TV screen as a lead-in to opening the curtains to the day. The cold day; frosty streets. They say there will be sleet tomorrow and it’s certainly in the temperature zone for that. You finish the videogame and you pick up the book you were reading last night: Russian author: his first novel, about some affair he (presumably) had with a woman in his younger years. You hope that the other man – of whom he had the affair against – wasn’t too upset that the author went on to become famous and so on, whilst he was cheated on. You finish that book and tick that off the reading list for the year … and then you head outside to head down to the supermarket. Super chilly. You normally like the cold. But as you get older it can be harder to prepare against. You pass the houses with their puffing sides. Everybody worried about the gas bills going up, again. Many more people worried that Russian madmen might do something crazy (more than they already have). They were part of the whole inflation thing. Only meaning the war criminals, and not the whole Russian people. … Along the road, the magpies flurry overhead in silky black and white and you salute them. Then at the bottom of the road you see the droves of the high school kids walking by in black. It’s their half day today; and you’re glad for them: now that they’re out of that hell hole. This school is considered quite a ‘rough’ one. But when you look at the kids – the boys, even – they’re not squabbling or being rough with one another, only walking home. You move along to the supermarket and head in. Pick up some tomatoes and a tub of houmous, and look around for that pretty Polish lady that works here, hoping to see her. She’s not working today it seems. The security guard is. In his fluorescent garb. It must be the most boring job imaginable, standing around like that all day; the ‘work’ must drive the man nuts. You pay for your stuff and leave. Head back home. You’ve a plan to watch a movie with your friend today. So you call him up. He has a Russian [sorry to keep using this word / nationality] film that another friend recommended to him. So you look up a link and watch it. It’s about regular people living in Russia in the time period nearing the collapse of the Soviet Union. And the movie starts out quite playfully. Then a third of the way through it gets darker and from then on it progressively gets more fucked up … and by the end of it, you’re genuinely depressed. And what makes it worse is that there’s a message at the end saying that it was based on a true story. That actually happened! Jesus. … It was quite a short film. And you and your mate have nothing else to do for a few hours. So you suggest you watch another movie: preferably something totally different. Okay. He suggests this French comedy film. Which is about two men who discover a gigantic fly in the boot of their car. Cool – sounds like a change o’ scene. And after half an hour of that you’re cheered up again. Some goofy entertainment. And, along the way, you speak to your mate about cultural stuff. He’s one of the few mates that you have, and it’s a fair thing to simply ‘have a friend’ on the planet. … After the movie ends, you say bye for now. To your friend, and then move on to a next novel that you got yesterday. It’s set in early 1980s Berlin. And it’s about the tension between either side of the Wall. And, as you’re reading, you remember that time you went to Berlin, back in January 2019. You loved that city. And because it was such a long while back, you pine that the memories of it are fading. So you wish to go back one day. In the future. Especially when, reading the novel, the names of the districts come up, and you recall going there yourself. The nouns playing on your nostalgia. You read the book for a couple of hours and figure you’ll get a nap in. Hoping that you may wake up again in a few hours, also still alive.

[just-another-bite]

Okay so stick with me here.

Some shrimpy kid on a basketball or football team who's constantly patronized or condescended for his size. It's not like he's a bad player, he's just puny. So he starts trying to bulk, searching for quick ways to put on pounds and gain the respect or at least get them off his back. So before a game, he's cooped up in the locker room munching away on an energy bar, chugging some water, just getting ready for the game. He finishes, tosses away his trash and tells his teammates he'll be out in a second.

He tugs on his jersey but pauses and looks down as he hears his stomach gurgle. He scrunches his brows together in confusion and places his hand on his stomach, tentatively pushing in on his jersey, only to find a potbelly providing resistance. With a yelp of confusion, he looks around but he's alone in the locker room now. A moment later, he feels his stomach swell underneath his hand and he stumbles back a step as he feels the weight sag on. He's terrified, and begins to try and stumble to the door, but his stomach lurches again, tearing his jersey clean open and sagging down to his knees over his shorts, gurgling all the while.

He's panting, holding what he can of his stomach like a mother in labor as he waddles, leaning heavily against a row of lockers that he soon collapses nearby as his stomach lurches again, dragging against the ground and bringing him down with it. He's practically lifted off his feet as his stomach begins expanding horizontally as he's forced to lay on it.

He hears the buzzer going and can only assume someone's subbed in for him, no ones going to check-on him. He whimpers as his stomach gurgles again, he hears the lockers groan as his stomach pushes against it.

~

A hearty game of sports, sweat and adrenaline later, the team is cheering, high-fiving each other as they make their way back to the locker room. However, upon opening the door, they're met with the gurgling, groaning, sloshing, straining belly of their teammate as it fills every viable inch of the room. They hear a groan from inside, among the fat rolls. A second later and another gurgles sounds loudly to the team and they watch as the bloated gut of their teammate begins swelling, pushing through the newly opened doorway.

World's best bulk

[dominomortemhq]

The days are getting longer, the temperature is heating up, and summer is here. With Voldemort now gone, it seems the Wizarding world can finally embrace summer for the first time in years, and all the joys that come along with it. In celebration of the newfound freedom, the Council has decided to truly celebrate the start of the Professional Quidditch season with a week-long festival, culminating in the first game of the season, The Montrose Magpies vs The Falmouth Falcons.

The opening game will be held at the Falmouth Quidditch Stadium, beginning on the 27TH OF JUNE, but the fun doesn’t start there! Beginning the preceding weekend, the first annual Quidditch Festival will take over the stadium and town. With games of chance and skill, to stalls filled with not only Quidditch memorabilia, but arts and crafts too, there’s something for the whole family!

Important Information:

This event will run for four weeks, from 20 JUNE at NOON EST- 13 JULY at NOON EST after which no new starters should be posted. However, any threads created during the event can, of course, continue

There will be themed sentence starters posted at the start of the event

If you have any suggestions for stalls and/or you would like to have your character be a part of running one, please let us know!

A list of stalls can be found under the cut!

The tag that can be used when tagging starters / edits / etc. is dmhqevent01 as we’d like to reserve the dmhqevent tag for admins to post information regarding the event! 

Stalls

Falmouth Falcons Official Merchandise - Are you a fan of the local team? Maybe you just want to support the English in their first game against the Scot’s, either way, the Falmouth Falcons Official Merchandise tent has you covered!

The Montrose Magpies Official Merchandise - Rooting for Scotland? The Montrose Magpies Official Merchandise tent will have you decked out in black and white with style, and even the occasional kilt!

The Leaky Cauldron - The Leaky Cauldron is bringing it’s popularity to Southern England with a stall filled to the brim with butterbeer, firewhiskey and homely pies

Lucky Logan’s Lagniappe - A stall filled with questionable good luck tokens and items, supposedly infused with potions and enchantments that can provide luck for the wearer, or their team

Quick Quaffle - Try your hand at dunking your favourite old quidditch stars by throwing the Quaffle at the target! Some of the best and brightest retired players are donating their time, so make sure you give it your best shot!

Bumper Brooms - Just like bumper cars, but magical! For safety reasons, all brooms have been enchanted to only fly four feet off the ground, at a slower pace, so all ages can play.

Egg and Spoon Race - You didn’t think it would really be that simple, did you? Hop on one of the provided brooms and race your friends to the finish line! But be careful, that’s not just any egg you’re carrying, that’s an Ashwinder egg. Make sure you get to the end before it explodes!

Inflatable Wizard Chess - Ever wanted to be part of your favourite board game? Well, here’s your chance. Put on one of the inflatable chess costumes and join your team in taking down the opponent!

Games Tent - After something a bit more traditional? We have you covered! Gobstones, Exploding Snap and regular Wizards Chess can all be found here!

Petting Zoo - Ever wanted to pet a kneazle or feed a hippogriff? The petting zoo is the place for you! With expert handlers on standby to make sure everything runs smoothly, there are a range of safety approved creatures to cuddle with

Arts and Crafts - Need a break from all the sports? London’s very own Arts and Crafts society has banded together to provide relief from all the noise and chaos with an array of different arts and crafts for you to try!

Costume Contest - Want to show your quidditch pride with flare? The last day of the festival will hold a costume contest, the chance to show your creativity in your fashion!

[magpie-69]

Race Day Pt.2

We arrived on site at 09:45. Registration was at 10:15. I'd been informed there were to be some road closures for the event, but even though the race was being held in my local area I had no idea which roads they meant so I made sure we got there in plenty of time to accommodate this. In fact we parked about 1/4 mile away and walked there. I have a near pathological hatred of being late to anything, btw 😂 Upon arrival we realised we didn't have to register at all because we already had our race numbers. This is what it is to be a race virgin, lol. However, despite the fact it was raining, the time passed fast. I used it to get into 'the zone' (as best I could while having to entertain my two teenagers), and to do a little warm up and stretch myself. Soon enough we were called into the pen where we were greeted by a lady on a stage with a microphone. She welcomed us, told us we were brilliant for being there and let us know how much our event had raised so far... £73,000! Whoa! She then played a recorded message from a lady, who was diagnosed with breast cancer one year earlier, and her husband and kids. The lady had died 6 months after diagnosis. It was heartbreaking, my son and I held hands and cried as we felt their pain and remembered ours. Then the tempo changed. They took us through a 5 min warm up. That was hilarious because there wasn't much space! After that we were lead to the start line. We were about half way in the pack. We counted down from 10 and then we were off......

.......slowly because of all those in front of us. As we managed to increase our pace my son said to me, "Mum, I'm going to run ahead but I'll wait for you later on." I wished him well and off he went. It was his first 5k afterall and he needed to do it his way. I plodded on. Most of the course was on grass with some road. The first 1/2 km was downhill, then on the flat. The 2nd 1/2 km was uphill. I ran, or walked fast, the uphill. Then came the first obstacle. A crawl on hands and knees followed by two waist high inflatable tubes to get over. Then a little more uphill followed by a bit more flat. Downhill again to the next obstacles. Two waist high jumps into pools of muddy water. Downhill some more then onto a short piece of flat road. Double back on some grass to the next obstacle, an A Frame cargo net. Up and over that and continue on the flat for a short while until we turned left to go downhill to the next obstacle. An A Frame climb with footholds. Then downhill a little more with a left turn to the muddiest part of the course. Two cargo nets pinned to the ground with thick gooey mud under them. Head down and push through. Covered head to toe in mud. Fantastic! I got to the 2nd cargo net and there was a younger lady struggling because her hair bun was getting caught up in the net. She was to my left so I used my left arm to hold the net up for her while we crawled through side by side. We were, afterall, in this together! Then a 1/2 km run to the next one. A plastic corrugated tube pointing up with a rope in it. I had to wait 5 mins at this one for my turn to pull myself up it and carry on to the next one 1/2km away. I have to admit that my heart dropped as I saw what it was......space hoppers! Fucking space hoppers! What sadist thought it a good idea to have you bouncing 10m around a cone very close to the 4km mark!? 😈🤣 Damn, that was hard! Onwards we went. All uphill from now on. The next obstacle was getting through stretchy ropes strung across at all angles and heights. Easy peasy! 😊 The last stretch and the last obstacle. As I approached it I saw my son. I thought he'd finished and come back. But no, he'd waited there for me so that we could do the last one together. Bless him! (Although I do actually wish that he would've gone on and finished without me for his sake). We ran together to the last obstacle. A very high inflated A Frame with a cargo net on one side and a slide down into a mud pool on the other. We arrived at the top of it together and slid down together. What a splash! 😂 Then a short run to the finish line and ring the bell! All over. Very muddy, very wet, and very satisfied! It took me 55 mins to complete. My son and I raised £245 together, so far. The donations still keep coming. A fucking good do! We looked a sight walking back to the car I can say! My eldest, who had been looking after our bags while we ran, my youngest with very muddy legs but with a clean and dry coat on, and me, soaked and muddy with a green towel draped over me because I was very cold. All walking over a very busy road junction where no one had any idea as to what or why 🤣🤣

Magpie'69 💜☠️🍒

21/7/19 🇬🇧

[megalony]

So many reasons- Part 3

Another part of my latest Roger Taylor series, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback already.

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae  @langdonzvoid  @butlegendsneverdie  @jennyggggrrr  @radiob-l-a-hblah  @luvborhap  @rogertaylorsbitontheside

Series taglist: @rogertaylors-lipgloss  @scarecrowmax  @demo-wise  @asquiresofftime

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She felt like a magpie.

No matter what she tried to busy herself doing, the small rose gold band wrapped around her wedding ring finger would always catch her attention like a beacon demanding to be observed. It was one of those things that wouldn't leave her mind alone, like getting a new haircut and always stopping to look in any mirror or window that you passed. Just to make sure that you looked right or that it was still there and not from the imagination.

When (Y/n) said yes to marrying Roger, she didn't think it would happen so quickly- not that she was complaining at all.

The drummer had been prepared, giving her a ring the next day when he saw her at the studio before anyone else had arrived. It was so intriguing to (Y/n) that since the band had been placed on her finger she could do nothing but stare down at it in awe. The rose gold of the band sparkled and shined in any sort of light that (Y/n) wondered if it glowed in the dark from the shine that it gave off. Sitting delicately on top of the band was a neatly placed diamond that kept drawing back her attention. Roger knew her taste in jewellery, he didn't need to ask what kind of ring she wanted to know that the one had picked would be one that (Y/n) would love.

The actual wedding was a small ceremony by both their wishes, content with only a few people there to be witnesses, including the boys and Lily and Rosie. (Y/n) had told her friends about Roger only after getting married, which of course came as a shock when all of her friends rightly thought that she was single up until now. It was easier to tell the lie that they had kept their relationship a secret than to say that she married Roger because he needed help looking after his daughters and making sure he kept custody of them. (Y/n) could believe the lies better if everyone else did, they even told the band this white lie and they believed it wholeheartedly.

Trying to make a relationship work with Roger was a dream come true, but to marry him first was a reversed fantasy that (Y/n) couldn't believe she was actually living. 

Right now (Y/n) was trying to unpack some of her things into the chest of draws in front of her, but the glistening ring on her finger was making that so much harder. After talking it through with Roger, they both decided they would share a room instead of (Y/n) having a different one. Knowing it would be a bit easier for the girls to understand since they knew they were both married now. Finding them having separate rooms might just confuse them both.

Setting down the few shirts folded neatly in her hands, (Y/n) placed them in the draw in front of her before tracing her index finger over the band on her other hand. Marriage was something that (Y/n) had thought about a lot, sometimes she didn't think it would ever end up having. Now things seemed to have happened in the reversed order, marriage, moving in and then trying to be in a relationship with Roger. (Y/n) would do things in any kind of order she could have if it meant she got to be with Roger and the girls. It felt better to know that they were going to try and make this work instead of just creating a lie and living by it.

"Do you know why that's the finger the ring goes on?" Roger's voice cut through the deafening silence cocooning around (Y/n). A smirk pulling at his lips when he pressed his chest flush against her back, feeling her shiver and jump against him from the sudden shock.

His chin resting on her shoulder as he watched her left hand stay holding onto the draw in front of them as her right hand moved to press to her chest trying to calm down the sudden speed of her heart. The drummer had a very bad habit of sneaking up on people, (Y/n) was going to have to get used to that, living in the same home as him now and working with him at the studio too.

"No, enlighten me." She responded, turning her head to look at him as a small smile curved her lips upwards making his heart jump in his chest.

"It's the only finger with a blood vessel connecting straight from your finger to your heart." He responded, his head absentmindedly leaning to the side as he smiled through his words. Watching how (Y/n)'s eyes drifted from Roger down to her finger, wondering how that was possible, assuming of course that Roger wasn't making this up from the top of his head. Although when she looked at him again the look in his eyes showed he wasn't lying. "So, all unpacked yet?" He questioned, his arms wrapping themselves like vines around her waist as he glanced around the room.

Seeing a few now empty boxes resting near the door, two piles of clothing resting on the bed and a bag resting on the floor but he couldn't tell if it was empty or not. Truthfully, Roger never saw himself to have a serious relationship in the future. He always saw himself just being on his own looking after his girls and that always seemed enough for him.

But now, with (Y/n) here and starting to move all of her things in Roger couldn't help but feel that he had been wrong in his previous assumption. Maybe she was just what he needed, maybe this new family was just what they all needed. Even if a few lies had been told on all of their parts for this to happen.

"Almost." (Y/n) responded with a smile, her eyes drifting between Roger's baby blue eyes and his blushing pink lips that looked so inviting.

Roger seemed to take the initiative, his arms unwinding from around her frame so he could spin her around to face him instead. His hands gently holding her waist before he leaned down to capture her lips with his own. A feeling that was so new to both of them yet so intoxicating that it left them breathless and asking for more. Reaching up (Y/n) gingerly rested her hands on either side of his neck, gently tilting his head as her stomach flipped. A sense of bliss washing over both of them that they didn't think was even possible.

A very familiar tightening feeling suddenly appeared in Roger's chest, one that he knew all too well these past few months. The abruptness of the feeling causing his fingers to dig into (Y/n)'s hips suddenly before his grip released as if realising what he was doing.

The tightening in Roger's chest only got worse as if someone had their hand around his ribcage and was slowly squeezing like they were trying to break each individual rib one at a time. This feeling overwhelmed the drummer to the point that when (Y/n) pulled back for air, he pressed his head to her shoulder so she couldn't see the sudden look of pain on his features. Thinking that he was simply hugging her, (Y/n) moved her hand so her fingers were carding through his bleached blond locks. Frowning when Roger shuddered before pulling back.

One hand still rested on her hip as if making sure she wasn't about to run away before he turned his head to the left, his left hand smothering his lips to hide his coughs. Snapping his eyes closed Roger tried to breathe but every molecule of air was forced straight back out of his lungs to the point they were deflated without the option to inflate again.

Rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone, (Y/n) frowned when Roger started to wheeze, showing he clearly couldn't catch enough air to keep him going. He seemed to get to the point where he was forcing out strangled sounds that resembled a cough but no air was going along with them. Moving her hand she started rubbing up and down his back before patting between his shoulder blades to try and force his lungs to take in some air.

"Jesus, Rog..." (Y/n) mumbled when he finally started to breathe again, his body doubling over as if that would make it any easier for him.

Closing his eyes the drummer tried to get rid of the sudden spots that decided to dance across his eyes from the lack of oxygen in his blood. Slowly pulling his hand away from his mouth, Roger opened his blurring eyes to look to the palm of his hand. His fears confirmed when he saw small specks of blood coating the palm of his hand like little blotches of paint. Pressing his hand to his jeans he rubbed the flecks away like they were nothing before grabbing (Y/n)'s hand. Tugging her with him when he decided to move and sit down on the floor, his energy suddenly burnt out.

A laugh escaped (Y/n)'s lips when the drummer pulled her down onto him, her head pressing into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around her. His head turning in the direction of the door when he heard a little patter of feet heading their way.

(Y/n) slowly moved so she was sitting beside Roger instead of laying on him, a bright smile on her face when the three-year-old toddled into the room, her sights clearly set on the drummer. Her small body propelling into his own as she flung herself at Roger's chest causing a sudden groan to leave his lips as his chest was still burning from his sudden coughing fit.

"Hey, baby." He whispered, not trusting his voice in case it cracked or wobbled giving away what he was feeling on the inside.

Roger didn't know what he would do if (Y/n) hadn't agreed to marry him, he hadn't been lying to her when he told her the main reason he wanted to marry her so suddenly was because of his daughters. Roger needed to know that if anything happened to him, his girls would be cared for and loved and there was no one else who would be able to do that if anything happened to the drummer. He doubted if their mother would want to care for them again and that meant either his parents or his sister would be stuck bringing them up or possibly even going into care and that thought sent shivers down his spine and tears prickling in his eyes.

The drummer needed to know that if, or quite possibly when, his health got worse someone would be there for Lily and Rosie. If (Y/n) married him like she did then she would have legal rights to look after the girls and they wouldn't be stuck with a stranger or someone else to look after them. They would still feel they had one parent there for them and that was what Roger craved the most.

Roger had panicked a month ago in the doctor's office being told that his health was taking a turn for the worst. He needed to prepare for any scenario in the future and that meant making sure his girls were taken care of in the event that he either got worse or God forbid he suddenly died.

The thought of having to leave his girls like that made Roger tighten his arms around Rosie just that little bit more. Reassuring himself that she was there with him and that he wasn't dead yet.

(Y/n) didn't see the single tear escaping his eye.