anonymous asked:

daddy Michael getting your baby to laugh for the first time??


so michael was dying to hear and get your baby to laugh or giggle for the first time. and so michael was doing everything he could think of to get baby clifford to laugh, but this little boy would not budge at all. “just do what I do, babe. tickle his tummy and blow raspberries on it. he’s like his daddy with being so ticklish,” you winked, and michael grumbled out something incoherent. “okay bud, your daddy is going to make you laugh because mommy has said that it’s the cutest thing ever. so that’s what daddy’s gonna do” and michael tried everything, from making silly faces to watching baby television, but he still couldn’t get the little tike to laugh. so finally, he caved, rolling up his little boy’s onesie. and michael baby talked, “I’m gonna get’cha!” and his finger tips started tickling his son’s tummy, the little boy starting to break into a tiny fit of giggles. and michael pulls back in awe, and is in love with the sound of his son’s giggles. “babe!! I got him to giggle!!!!” and michael goes back to tickling the little boy’s tummy, blowing a raspberry square in the middle of his tummy, causing the little boy to be laughing so hard, and pushing his tiny hands against michael’s hair. and michael decided that this was his new absolute favorite thing to hear: his son’s laughter

anonymous asked:

Prompt- Ruby red lips

Carol was waking up with the morning as Daryl was finallyturning in from the night shift. She had taken a shower and gotten dressed just as he came trudging into their bedroom, all but tripping out of his shoes and flopping onto the bed, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable.

“Good morning,” she chimed, pulling on her socks.

He grunted, sprawled on his front with one arm and half of his leg hanging off the edge of the bed. He liked to exaggerate how boring the night shifts were, the kind of boring that left you drained, but this morning, he was clearly exhausted from actual physical exertion. Carol smirked and walked across to him, bending over and pressing herself against his back in a half-hug. He mumbled incoherently at her, something along the lines of a hello, and she nuzzled her face into the back of his neck briefly before standing up. It had been a long night, and she was feeling skin-starved for him.

She watched him wiggle around until he was on his back, already half-asleep, as she reached for the tube of red lip gloss. She wasn’t much for make up nowadays, but the dry winter air had been leaving her lips feeling parched, and this particular gloss had some kind of chapstick built into it…So she dealt with the ruby red lips that it gave her, because leaving red lip marks on every cup that she drank from was preferable to painfully dry lips.

She applied it absently and sauntered over to Daryl, noting that his head hadn’t quite made it onto a pillow, and he seemed to be foregoing any kind of blanket. He did really look exhausted. With a soft frown, she leaned in and brushed his hair from his forehead.

“Everything all right? Just tired?” she asked.

He grunted again, not opening his eyes and speaking in a low rumble. “Yeah…Herd hit the wall, about four dozen of ‘em…Took ‘em out, just took a while…Had to go in hand to hand.”

Carol paused, giving him a onceover look, but the telltale walker blood and grit wasn’t there.

“You did?” she asked.

He nodded lethargically. “Washed up ‘fore I came home…Didn’t want you to know…except now I just told ya…” He finally opened his eyes to half mast. “Whoops.”

Carol eyed him, snorted, and kissed him softly on the lips. He returned it lazily, and she was amused to see some of the red of her gloss lingering on his mouth after. With a grin, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead, making sure to leave a nice, bright red imprint of her lips there.

Daryl whined, tilting his head away and trying to get comfortable. She snickered and stood.

“All right, fine. You get some sleep, and I’ll see you this afternoon.”

She started to walk away, but Daryl’s hand reached up and touched her arm, stopping her.

“Hey,” he mumbled, on the last cusp of awareness. “Give ‘em Hell today.”

She chuckled. “I always do.”

He nodded, eyes still closed and the bright print of her lips shining at the corner of his mouth and on his forehead. Carol swallowed her giggle until she was out of the room. She closed the bedroom door quietly after herself and made her way downstairs.

Given how Daryl rarely looked at himself in the mirror, she wondered just how many people would see her kiss mark on his forehead and not say anything, just letting him walk around like that whenever he went out again? Because she sure as Hell wasn’t going to tell him.

This was going to be hilarious.

  • <p><b>Me:</b> "Just... play it cool. Smooth. Assured. It's ok man. You got this."<p/><b>Her:</b> *comes online*<p/><b>Me:</b> [random incoherent noises]<p/><b>Me:</b> [falls off chair]<p/><b>Me:</b> [agonises over what to say]<p/><b>Me:</b> [forgets how to type]<p/><b>Me:</b> [typing] hey<p/></p>

iandebbie asked:

tbh mickeys nose appreciation bc his nose is the cutest shit ever and like his whole face in general?? we don't focus on his actual face enough: but like mickey asleep and all cuddled into a pillow and ian just running his fingers over the bridge of mickeys nose and forehead and cheekbones and leaving small kisses there and mickey wakes up and mumbles something incoherent and ian just smiles a little "youre so fucking beautiful mick"

okay as much as i love them fucking i need more about how fucking beautiful ian finds him

mickey looking up at him (legs around his hips) (hands tracing his face) and ian leans down to kiss him so, so softly and hes whispering against his neck “i love you i love you you’re so beautiful” and mickeys like kissing his throat shaking and shaking his head too and ians like “you are, you are, i love you so much, fuck”

sometimes when theyre laying on the couch (mickeys head on his lap) (their fingers clasped together) ian just traces a finger down his cheek and the arch of his throat and tells him “i cant believe this” and mickeys like ?? and ians like “i cant believe i get to have you” and he just feels so lucky and mickey wants to argue i’m nothing i’m nothing how can you love me like this but he looks up at ian smiling and looking so softly down at him and he can only pull him down into a kiss, lips moving against his, “i love you, i love you, you’re the best thing i’ve ever had”

anonymous asked:

i noticed that the description for dan and phil's book mentions text messages they've sent to each other. omg what if they mention ur blog???? that would be amazing. luv ur blog btw alice and kari u guysare amazing

Haha the possibility of that happen is nil, but if by some miracle (or tragedy, not sure which it would be) they did mention this blog, rest assured that there would be mass hysteria from the both of us and a lot of text posts of just incoherent caps. 

We’re both super excited for the book! I just pre-ordered it because I am phan-loving trash who has no filter when it comes to spending money on shit I don’t need. I think we’re most excited to see how they actually text so we can compare/contrast our text messages and hopefully make them better! 


Achilles and Glory Feels

So apparently today I feel like actually writing posts, and I’ve been feeling the Achilles/Patroclus pain today. So here goes.

Mainly this is just gonna be me incoherently crying about how perfectly the myth ends. To make references easier I’ll be mainly using The Song of Achilles as the basis.

So in Greek culture, everything, and I mean absolutely everything you were worth was based around bravery in war. They have these words, like ἄριστος, which yeah technically means best, but it’s so much more than that. (I’m taking Archaic Greek right now, and the brilliant thing about the language is that there is so much meaning behind each word). So ἄριστος, it’s best, but pretty much the implication is best in battle, which is directly related to one’s worth as a person, especially for a prince, like Achilles.

And the thing about Achilles (especially in TSOA) is that the reason Patroclus is capable of liking him, and he references this several times, is that Achilles is so much better, and faster, and more skilled than anyone else, that there is no chance of comparison, and so there is no use in resenting him. And Achilles was born with these abilities, right, so he doesn’t act like he thinks he’s better than anyone else, because he simply is, it is a fact. In fact, you’ll notice that Achilles doesn’t even really brag or care about his honor and glory and others perception of him until he goes to war, when suddenly people are trying to compete with him, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

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Just how badly has Barack Obama and his administration damaged relations with our allies in the Middle East? NBC’s Richard Engel reports that the Sunni nations in the region have begun to fear that the Obama administration leaks intel to Iran as part of its efforts at rapprochement with the mullahs, which is why the US got blindsided by the Saudi-led coalition’s operations in Yemen. The White House’s “incoherence” in policy, Engel reports, has most of them losing confidence in American leadership, according to Engel’s contacts (via Free Beacon):
  • Lynn:After [Dissent] though I really wanted a custom response.
  • "If you weren't there..."
  • "So I'll just always be here. With you."
  • Amy:/Yes/
  • Lynn:/adorable forhead bump of love, "You can always count on me. I will be here for you."
  • Like I kinda wanna rewrite all of the end of that quest beginning of romance thing.... Just to be sappy and ridiculous.
  • Amy:/nodnod
  • Lynn:Short romantic fluff seems to be my forte these days...
  • Amy:Chalk up any romance fail to "Varric wasn't there and is guessing"
  • Lynn:Varric "Why did You Make Me Write Romance" Tethras
  • "I don't know, they were probably really dramatic bodice-ripping romance."
  • Hawke reads the book like "......Eh, I won't correct him, I'm pretty sure there was more awkward crying, mumbled incoherency and getting tangled in robes."
  • (First night Anders and Hawke have sex involves them both getting tangled in eachother's far, far too complicated clothing. Hawke falls off the bed, his feet trapped in a mess of buckles and feathers.)
  • Amy:(LOL)
  • [Hawke:Yet another reason for you to let me buy you a new outfit]
  • Lynn:(Anders: *nervously peeks over the bed*
  • Hawke:*is stunned for a moment before trying to strike a sexy pose, mostly naked and half off the bed* ...hey. *eyebrow waggle*)
  • Amy:/cackling
  • Lynn:And that is why they never told Varric the truth...
  • they probably ended up telling Isabella though... While getting wasted at the Hanged Man and making fun of each other.
  • Amy:Hahaha
  • Oh yeah
  • Lynn:Like Anders will sometimes turn to Hawke and be all. "....Hey. /eyebrow wiggle" And Hawke will blush and kinda giggle. And it's like an injoke for a while.
  • Amy:/giggle
  • Lynn:(I love fluffy domestic nonsense. I'm so sorry universe. I want Hawke and Anders fumbling their way through baking a cake. I want awkward first times where they talk out what each other likes, I want breakfasts in bed, and trying to clean, and how people sleep and so much sap.)
  • Amy:(/the grabbiest of hands)
Brief Encounters & Pop Illuminations

So I want to end this by saying: thank you for reading my rather incoherent ramblings on Franz Ferdinand and for suffering through my endless posts. Who knew there was so much to say? I hope you found out something you didn’t know about them, or at least found cause to revisit their material.

I also want to end this by saying: I really like this band.

I’m thankful they existed. I’m thankful they continue to exist. I’m thankful they were part of the wave that brought back guitars but were still confident enough to admit that it was okay to enjoy music on a superficial level – that you didn’t have to pull apart the complexities to get the appeal. 

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Name: Justin
Time: 12:43 AM
Avg hrs of sleep per night: 7-9
Last thing I googled: ‘brandon teena’
Nickname: None, really. Mother Magpie?
Birthday: January 18th, 1996
Gender: Of the lady variety
Height: 6′2″
Favorite color: Black
One place that makes me happy: The pond next to the FAC
How many blankets do I sleep under: 1 comforter
Favorite film: Why would you this to me?
What I’m wearing now: Nothing.
Last book you read: Zami: A New Spelling of My Name
Most used phrase: “Heihei”, “That’s fair”, “*incoherent screeching*”
First word that comes to mind: Dick
What I last said to a family member: “See you soon!”
Favorite beverage: Strawberry daquiri, rooibos tea, vanilla chai
Favorite food: NAH BRAH
Last film I saw in theatres: The Imitation Game
Dream vacation: Something fun and productive. 
Dream Wedding: A ceremony on the rocks of Two Lights in Maine, and a reception on the hill overhead, beach lights and a tent set up, music, dancing, and a whole lot of good feelings. (I don’t want to get married, but if I ever did, this is how it would be.)
Dream pet: Cute tiny dog.
Dream job: Bringing together the spiritual healing in social justice work, teaching social justice, making art, writing social theory, touring and lecturing said theory, creating radical queer coalitions with homeless trans youth, organizing with homeless queer youth for housing