because i have to get out of bed

Popcorn & Coke

Pairing: Dean x Reader
Words: ~1200
Warnings: Smut, oral (giving and receiving), post-sex fluff,
Summary: Kinda just a post-sex Dean headcanon but really just an excuse for me to write smut.
A/N: This is inspired by the gif you see below and also kinda inspired by this JDM gif set (but specifically the second one) because I may or may not have just found another crisis. Oops. Again, please let me know if you’re on the tag list but aren’t getting the notification.

Dean stayed up late tonight, still sitting at the kitchen table when Sam had already gone to bed hours before. You rubbed your eyes as you walked into the kitchen. You were about to call out to him when you saw that bottom lip poked out to the side. You bit your lip as you walked up behind him, draping your arms on each side of his neck as you leaned down to see what he was reading. “Baby, come to bed.”

“Hold on, sweetheart. I’m almost done.”

You sighed. Pulling out the chair beside him and sitting in it. “Fine. I’ll stay up with you.”

He had already tuned you out, focused on the article he had found. You couldn’t help but stare at his lips. The way his tongue ran across it before he took it between his teeth. You wished he was biting your lip, or that you were biting his. You ran your fingers through the hairs at the base of his neck as he continued reading. You slowly moved closer to him, his lips drawing you in like moths to a flame. You reached over and shut his laptop. “Babe, I wasn’t-“

You cut him off, your lips crashing against his as you moved into his lap. You pulled away just as his tongue touched your lip. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Hm, what? Nothing.”

Keep reading

Good Little Soldier

For @hawkeykirsah because she’s been going through a rough patch and needed some cheering up! It’s not as nsfw as I’d planned; it’s just slightly spicy!

Good Little Soldier

“Why me?” Kaidan asked, his voice loud in the silence despite the softness of his tone.

Shepard froze, unsure of what to say as her stomach churned alarmingly with nerves; as though a baby Thresher Maw was inside of it trying to get out. The question was so simple, so basic, but she didn’t have a clue how to answer it as she shifted uncomfortably on the bed and picked at the sheets with idle hands.

Why him? Why Kaidan?

 "I don’t know,“ she said eventually, glad for the cover of darkness to hide her uncertain expression, even if some of it leaked out in her tone. "I just … liked you.”

Kaidan moved, the bed giving under his weight. “But why?” He was plainly puzzled. “You had lots of people who went after you, I saw it every time we stopped at the Citadel. So why me?”

Shepard sighed, thinking over the handful of pushy men, women and aliens who had come in and out of her life over the years. Some had swaggered in, full of themselves and certain that she would fall all over herself to be with them, while others had been star struck; with wide eyes and trembling hands as The Commander Shepard graced them with her presence. The outcome had always been disappointing, and after a time she just avoided relationships all together. It seemed that the people who were attracted to her were never the kind of people who she was attracted to.

Until Kaidan.

The rest is under a cut for space!

Keep reading

I know you think I’m lazy
But how do I say
I can’t
I remembered the heaviness of the stars

How do you say
I didn’t get out of bed
Because I was mourning for everyone
Who died thinking they were unloved

How do you say
I can’t go to work
There are children starving
And men crying
And souls dying

And we stopped dancing in the rain
We’re only drowning

How do you say
I can’t !
Today I have to be Atlas
And hold the universe upon my shoulders…


my hair is fading again x.x

depression has hit me hard again and i’m back in a slump. i feel too tired to get out of bed, and doing things as simple as eat, shower, brush my hair, etc. have become so exhausting and even the thought of them seems overwhelming.
dishes have piled up in the sink over the last few days and i hate myself for not cleaning them right away but i’m fucking exhausted. my body feels 100x heavier than usual and i’m just dragging myself around.
i don’t want to talk or move or breath. i just want to sleep as much as i can because the thoughts that have been racing through my head are hell. killing myself seems to be my only option right now and i have the means to do it but i’m trying to take it one day at a time and just make it to tomorrow. it’s difficult as shit but at least i’m trying (though i really don’t know why).

Pregnancy Venting

Morning sickness is holding me back in so many ways. This is a 24/7 event involving nausea and vomiting where I’m too terrified to get out of bed before noon, because the nausea is so strong when I’m upright that I can’t hold water or food down. I have to wait until the day is half over to be upright and eat something. Once I make sure that what I’ve eaten will stay down, I have to psych myself up to take my prenatal vitamins (and I don’t care what the packaging says; these are not way to digest or gentle on your stomach). Once the vitamins are down (and seem to be staying down), I have to eat again so the vitamin-induced nausea doesn’t rear its ugly head.

I’m lucky if I can even think about walking Ritter before 4 PM! This limits my walk options, because even with the energy to tackle 3-6 miles I have limited light to work with so the local trails are out of the running. We’ve been averaging 1.5 miles since my fatigue isn’t as bad as it was. I just want my symptoms to subside enough so I can take Ritter for a nice long walk and actually accomplish something before my husband comes home. Maybe even workout…. I am held hostage by the nausea right now.

Birds of a Feather (Nightmares)

Trigger Warning: Detailed descriptions of physical and emotional child abuse. Mention of domestic abuse.

Ozpin was being dragged out of his bed by the arm. “Dad please stop it!”

“Your mother is gone Ozpin!” His father yelled. “Do you know why she’s gone? It’s because of you!”


His father slapped him across the face. “Did I say you were allowed to talk? She would have never left me because she loved me.”

Ozpin knew his mother had left because of his father constantly hitting her. But why had she left him behind? He felt tears down his face before his father slapped him again.

“You don’t get to cry and feel sorry for yourself. Now you better get out of my face before I really lose my temper.”

Ozpin ran out of the house his face was stinging from where his father had hit him. He found a tree to sit under while he cried. He wanted to run away but he had nowhere to go.

‘Please let me find a way out of this.’ He thought. ‘Please someone help me.’


Ozpin sat up gasping for breath. Every inch of him was shaking. He felt dizzy and was drenched in a cold sweat.

“Ozpin?” Qrow muttered from beside him. “Everything ok?”

Ozpin didn’t say anything. His breathing was finally calming down and the dizziness was going away. He began wiping the tears out of his eyes.

Qrow turned on the lamp and turned to Ozpin. “Another nightmare? Was it the war again?” He put a hand on Ozpin’s shoulder.

“It was a nightmare but it wasn’t from someone else’s memories.”

Qrow gave Ozpin a concerned look but didn’t pry for details and Ozpin was greatful for it. He wasn’t quite ready to open up to someone about his childhood yet.

Qrow understood better then anyone that it took time to open up about these things. Ozpin was the only person he had told about the bandits.

It was no wonder they cared so deeply for each other. They had both experienced too many things when they were too young. ‘Birds of a feather.’ Ozpin thought.

He leaned over and began kissing Qrow. It was rough and needy. Qrow was equally as passionate in his his kisses. The unspoken promise they would keep each other safe from their own demons. Eventually they pulled away from each breathing heavily.

“We should get back to bed.” Ozpin suggested. “We both need our rest.” Of course he wasn’t going back to sleep after that but there was no reason to keep Qrow awake.

“Hey Oz.” Qrow hesitated. “It doesn’t have to be anytime soon but promise me one day you’ll tell me what that was about. When you feel ready tell me and I’ll be here.”

Ozpin noded. “One day when I’m ready I will tell you everything Qrow.

When he had made that promise Ozpin had no idea that he would never be able to tell Qrow anything himself.

(Oh my gosh this was hard to write. There is going to be a sequel to this because apparently I enjoy emotionally hurting myself. Everyone please give Ozpin and Qrow all of the hugs.)

anonymous asked:

I have been struggling with depression on and off for the past few years. Lately it has really bad and all i could do was get out of bed. Today was the first day i feel 100% okay. And this made me really happy because it felt like i was finally able to live my life. (Btw i love your blog. It brings me so much joy even on my down days.) I hope you have a good day and this cheers you up.

This ask really floored me. I’d struggled through something similar a year or so ago and lately I can feel it poking at me again, and hearing about someone recovering is always such an amazing thing to hear. I hope it’s all better for you from here on out, sweetheart, keep fighting ♡♡♡

Top American History Moments - I'm Not Done Yet Motherfuckers

- Thomas Jefferson having a mockingbird named Dick

- Andrew Jackson’s parrot being kicked out of his funeral because it wouldn’t stop saying ‘fuck’

- Andrew Jackson beating the shit out of his would-be assassin with a cane

- Andrew Jackson throwing a huge public party in the White House for his inauguration and having to sneak out because it got out of hand. He could only sneak back in when someone got the idea to move all the alcohol outside.

- John Laurens getting out of bed at Valley Forge and hitting his head on the ceiling

- Ben Franklin wanting the national bird to be the turkey

- Caleb Brewster’s reason for joining the continental army basically being that he just wanted to kick some ass and have some fun

- Caleb Brewster signing his name in big letters on spy reports for the Culper Ring

- George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Alexander Hamilton going on a fishing trip together, for Washington’s health

- gay brothels being called “Molly Houses”

- Benedict Arnold ploughing through 337 pages of William Blackstone’s “Commentaries” just to find the word militia for a secret code

- baby farmers (this is some crazy shit look it up)

- Thomas Jefferson having a ram that he called “An abominable animal”. It killed a young boy on the White House lawn.

- Aaron Burr having to ban snacks from the senate floor

- George Washington refusing to respond to a British letter because they didn’t address him correctly

- Aaron Burr being attacked by bedbugs and then proceeding to sleep on the floor for five hours

- Thomas Jefferson being a frat boy in college

- Alexander Hamilton being reported dead after going to burn barns and then showing up hours later soaking wet because he fell into a river

- Martha Washington outliving four children and two husbands and still saying that the worst day of her life was when Thomas Jefferson came to visit

it is incredible how quickly i second-guess my diagnosis. it had been three days without an anxiety attack; maybe i had been faking it. fifteen minutes after this thought i was sweating in below-zero weather, my teeth chattering and my heart racing. but maybe it was what i ate. i stopped drinking caffeine a long time ago; i find new things it could be. maybe i’m dehydrated. maybe i don’t get enough sun. maybe i need to spend less time on the internet.

i feel like i’ve never not been depressed. maybe i don’t even have depression, i’m just like this. this is who i am to my core and i just don’t want to admit it. plus sometimes i’m happy. it comes in streaks, like contrails - but sometimes i am happy. there are people who are suffering and i’m sitting here worrying because i feel blue sometimes. if i wasn’t so lazy i’d just get out of bed. am i depressed? am i run down? am i just wasting everyone’s worry?

i just don’t know what part of me is me and not mental illness, and i think i’m scared to find out exactly who i am without this.



READY YOUR WALLETS FRIENDS now we can purchase both Yuuri and Viktor and give up our beds for them and let them sleep together while we resign ourselves to sleeping on the floor so we don’t disturb their love 

THEY’LL GO ON SALE FOR 9,000 JPY (that’s around 80 USD or 74 Euro)

anonymous asked:

I've seen you say a couple times that you don't see or that you're disabled. Do you mind talking about it? I ask because I am an aspiring writer and it is really hard for me. I wanted to know how you managed or what it was like?

I don’t mind talking about it. It’s something that made me who I am.

When I was about 12, my health sort of started to eat itself. I suddenly had a ton of allergies, and there were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I got sick all the time. In freshman year of high school, I suddenly couldn’t see. For a long time a thing had been going on in my eyes, but I guess I didn’t think it was abnormal until it made it impossible for me to see. Basically this hole was kind of growing in my eyes, but it was more like a rainbow.

When I started having trouble with colors and detail vision, my mom freaked out a bit, because at the time, I was an award winning artist who had ideas of going to college for art. Then I started tripping over things, hitting my head, having trouble with depth perception. Then I got sick, and I mean sick.

I spent about 23 hours a day in bed. I had almost constant migraines. I had pain in my entire body. My skin turned yellow. I went to every kind of doctor you can think of and was tested for everything there is. One day, I had about 12 vials of blood drawn. No one knew what was wrong. The eyes weren’t that big a deal at first, because it seemed like I might have something really serious. The first couple of eye doctors I went to kind of looked at me and said “Oh it’s nothing big.” I actually had one guy tell me that my brain was just shutting off my eyes because I wasn’t using them properly. Yeah.

Then finally, my mom took me to a friend of our family who happened to be an eye surgeon. She did a free exam. I’ll never forget it because it was the first time anyone believed me. I’d been told by doctor after doctor that there was nothing wrong with me. I’d been referred to therapists, told I needed depression meds, told I was just going through a phase or needed attention. Then this doctor put on her head gear, looked into my eyes…took off the head gear…got new head gear…looked into my eyes…took off the headgear…got hand held tools…looked into my eyes…and then stared at me with her mouth hanging open.

“I can’t see the back of your eye,” she said. And suddenly the world simultaneously healed itself and flipped upside-fucking-down for me.

Then it was all about my eyes, the one symptom we could see happening. The one that was the most dangerous. But by then it was too late.

What happened is pretty simple: I apparently have some weird recessive DNA. It triggers certain bizarre immune issues at puberty. My immune system decided to attack my body. The eyes are a delicately balanced system. They show symptoms first. My immune system attacked them with a vengeance. They swelled up like balloons. Normal eye pressure is about 14-17. Mine was at a 22 at its best. It put a tremendous amount of pressure on my Retina, specifically my macula, cutting off blood flow like when you sit on your foot. You know those little shadowy things that float across your eyes? They’re called protein floaters. My eyes had produced so many of those that the doctor could not see through them. It was a fog.

They had to find a way to map my eye, to track the damage. Cue the eye exam from hell. I have always been, even before my autoimmune disorder, deathly allergic to melon. Any kind of melon. But now I was allergic to all sorts of shit, fruits vegetables, all kinds of crap. My dad is allergic to contrast dyes. So when the retinologist suggested this dye-based eye exam that is kind of like a CAT scan, my mom said “no”. See, they inject you with this dye and then they flash this weird light in your eyes. It causes the dye to glow, and then they can see the things through the fog. My mom told them I was too sensitive to stuff for that to be safe. The doc assured her they’d put a butterfly in my arm, meaning the vein would be kept open, and a syringe of benedryl was set on the counter. They’d never had anyone react, and they needed the pictures or there was nowhere to go from there.

So they put this dye into me, and it was like I’d been injected with fire, but there was no way around it, and to me, I knew they only had about 90 seconds to get the images they needed. So I sucked it up. finally the burning began to spread. Suddenly my back felt like I was being stabbed, and I suddenly couldn’t speak. I tapped my hands on my mom, then began sneezing spontaneously. My mom lifted my shirt, and I had quarter-sized hives. The nurse said “Stop sneezing on the camera”. Yeah.

My mom went ballistic. The doctor flew up the stairs and gave me the emergency meds. I slid into a dissociation state and nearly out of my chair. They had to prop me against the camera for the next couple minutes and reinject the dye. No other way, you see.

They did this test every few months for a few years.

But then there was treatment. Not much they could do, except try to get the swelling under control. Only way to do that was corticosteroid injections in the eye. Yup. A needle in the eye. No, they don’t knock you out. They numb the surface of the eye with the same numbing drops they give you for the exams and then they come at you with a needle, tell you to look down and to hold still. And you fucking do.

I was 15 when that started.

I went to experimental clinics, labs, and joined studies. I dropped out of those. Why? It’s pretty simple. The first day I came to the exams, I was kept waiting for over two hours. I was taken into a room. I was left there. No information, no talking. Suddenly a man came in followed by a group of people, all in lab coats. He started moving me around like I was a doll and talking like, “The patient presents with…the patient this, the patient that…”

I shoved him back and said, “The patient’s name is Kristina, and she is 16.”

He finished his exam, and when he left, after the students had gone, he took two Q-tips, dipped them in that pink shit your dentist uses to swab your gums before an injection, and SHOVED them under my eyelids with a cocky smirk.

The patient will never be an snotty little bitch again, I guess.

So yeah. Fuck those guys. They gave me two injections in one day, which no one had ever done before, because it was almost impossible to function with two pimple-like bubbles on your eyeballs.

Still my health was bad. Then all of a sudden, when my mom had given up, It just wasn’t anymore. Suddenly, I was fine, and all that was left were the eyes. I went back to school, except now I was blind.

In a few months, I’d lost about 80% of my perfect vision. I was photophobic. I got horrible and constant headaches. I walked with a cane. And not a single fucking teacher believed me, except my civics teacher, who had gone blind at a young age due to some other weird eye disorder, and my physics teacher who was deaf. I had teachers send me to the office for wearing my sunglasses (with a note on file). I had teachers get on my case about having an audio recorder and CD player for my books. I had teachers call me names, make fun of me, make me leave class to photocopy their notes larger, so that I missed the lecture the notes were on. I had teachers take my medications which had to be in my possession because of their time-sensitive nature and constant administration and hide them in their desks as punishment for asking questions or demanding help. I had classmates pick on me, but luckily, I was well-liked, and I was an officer in the ROTC. I even excelled there in spite of my vision, because my Captain believed in my leadership skills.

I always tell this story because I think it is funny. We had this special boot camp we got to go to if we were in the upper ranks of the ROTC. If you joined the military after high school (which I could never do) you got a higher paygrade for having gone through it. Almost like taking a couple JC classes in the military. It was grueling and all physical fitness, obstacle courses, PT, classes, guard duty…fucking blah. Our unit was allowed six participants. I sort of figured that it wasn’t really fair for me to go, even with my high rank (a company XO). To my complete fucking shock, my Captain recommended me to go, cutting out a classmate (and ex) of mine who was higher in rank. The boy went ape-shit. He went on and on about how unfair it was. He even went to the school board. My Captain made his reasons clear; he told them that the academy isn’t about military sponsorship. It’s about skills and quality. He didn’t care if I had a disability. In his eyes I had more innate ability than anyone there because I had worked so hard just to be where I was. The boy was angry. I told my Captain I appreciated the gesture, but honestly, we ought to make it fair. I told him that we should train to meet the PT standards, and that if this kid could make his, but i couldn’t make mine, he should go. I made mine. He didn’t. He complained about that too. At the last minute, we were told one extra person could come because another school had lost one. So he came anyway. The whole time he bitched about me being there. When I got there, the real military officers gave me shit like you wouldn’t believe, because they weren’t used to dealing with disabilities or recognizing that they can’t discriminate against high schoolers by law. The commander of the unit tried to dress me down in front of everybody for wearing sunglasses. I was pretty pleased with myself for telling him off but still sounding respectful. He kept saying “Take off my glasses”. I told him they weren’t his. They were mine, by law, and that if he had a problem with that, he could consult my attorney, the DOJ, and the doctor who prescribed them. He tried to fuck with me. I didn’t say anything except to ask him if he wanted me to have a migraine, because that’s what taking the glasses off means. He was so confused by me he walked away and called my Captain over. There were words. After that, he came up to me once or twice, almost like a test, to ask me if I needed him to slow down or if I was getting around alright. He wasn’t being nice. He was egging me in a condescending tone and with very bullying language. He’s a drill instructor, and you know what, that’s his job. I told him I was fine. But I made a decision: I wasn’t just going to make the female PT marks. I was going to test out of this fucking place at the male PT marks. And I fucking did. That boy…had an asthma attack on the track (I had asthma too, but I worked my ass off while he coasted on his “boyness”) and failed. At the certificate ceremony, the commander came up to me and said I had really impressed him, and that it was a shame I couldn’t enter the Navy. I thanked him, but what I wanted to say was, “Go fuck yourself and take the NAVY with you”. I ended up the Battalion XO Senior year. This would have given me a guaranteed spot in Westpoint if I could have taken it. My Captain cried when he told me he was sorry he had to give it to one of our Company XO’s. I told him that it was best for everyone, because I am not the type of person to enjoy taking orders. I had learned that about myself.

He laughed.

Around Junior year I got people to pay attention. My doctors got the DOJ and the Social Security people involved. A woman came to my school and enforced compliance in a tone of voice I’d never heard anyone but my mother use. She threatened to rain brimstone down on them if they didn’t give me what I needed, and things changed.

My parents wanted me to take a full scholarship to a local school, but I wanted to get away. So I did. I wanted to travel abroad, so i did. And when I was 19, they perfected one of the surgeries they had been working on the entire time I’d been struggling with this.

See, the injections had brought and kept the swelling down, but that meant that the fog was still there (since ocular fluid doesn’t replace), and the structures in the eye had been stretched all to shit, and were laying in my eye like melted plastic wrap. The old surgery was like a blind man hacking with a machete, but the new surgery used fluorescent dyes to track movement. Dyes that wouldn’t kill me. The old surgery had a 50-50 shot at complete loss of vision and made you lay on your face for three weeks. The new was fool proof and took 45 minutes. So, I got one eye done. They swapped out all the fluid and replaced it with saline. They peeled the distorted membrane off the macula. They stitched up my eyeball and gave me a sick metal eye patch. Looked like a fucking space pirate. It was rad.

But the blind spot is still there. The cataracts caused by the steroids are still there. The scars are there.

A few years later I had the other one done too.

My college was great. It took a lot of work getting all my reading done, about 500 pages minimum, per week, done via audio. I used to spend hours at the pool table in our residence hall, listening to my books and practicing. I got pret damn good too, at pool. It was difficult taking notes or working with a note taker. It was scary traveling by myself. It was hard to get people to understand there wasn’t anything WRONG with me. Just that my eyes don’t work even though it seems like I’m normal and fine, and like they should. People always think to be legally blind you have to be completely blind, and they think you’re not going to be able to defend yourself. I’ve been targeted by pickpockets. I’ve been followed by scary dudes. I’ve been treated like shit, laughed at, and accused by full grown adults of faking to get privileges, all because I can look at the place where their head should be and smile at the blank spot there. All because I can walk down a flight of stairs with a few neat tricks I know that have nothing to do with a cane.

But shit…you probably didn’t mean to ask for my life story. I’m going to get back to the point. My writing. What has it done for that? Like how can you be a writer if you can’t fucking see? Technology. It’s been amazing. I can use a computer same as anyone. The Kindle has been a fucking revolution for me because for the first time in a decade and a half I could read without pain and suffering. Just…all the things it does have made life so much easier than it used to be. It got me out of bad relationships with people who used my disability as a control. It gave me a little bit of confidence back. It helped me know I could handle myself.

And really, I think my vision loss had a lot to do with my writing. In some ways it gives me different perspective, sure, but it’s more than that. I was undeclared when I entered college. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I thought about history or sociology. My mom had a degree in that and she was an English teacher. I wanted art history, but what the fuck was the point in that? Couldn’t see a damn thing. And then I had a class in poetry, and shit…That made sense. I’d always loved language and writing. Always been okay at it. Dorte stuff but never thought about doing it for a living. But then it was like yeah…yeah I’m gonna fucking do that. Just like when I decided to meet the male PT standards.

If it is in you. If you love it. If it defines you and possesses you, it does not matter how fucked up you are. You will find a way. You don’t have a choice. You are that thing. And you’ll adapt. You just have to let yourself. You have to keep pushing. You have to learn how to handle frustration. you have to train yourself into stamina. You just keep going. I’m nowhere near as successful as I want to be. I’m still going. I hope I get even better. I hope I can say things that make truth more obvious, or that help people put words to things they have always wanted to say.

I don’t need my eyes to be a fucking firestorm. That’s just me. Eyes don’t mean shit.

So keep going. Keep doing whatever you need to. Do it better and better. Bend yourself around it. People who see you struggle will think they’re lucky, but you and I know the truth: they’re not even close to the kind of strong you are. Not even a little bit.

In order to cleanse the salt from my system, I’ve been imagining cute post-ep 12 scenarios like

  • Victor insisting on carrying Yuuri across the threshold when Yuuri comes to live with him and Yuuri being embarrassed as hell about it
  • Victor announcing brightly that he only has one bed, but it’s no problem because “Yuuri, you were going to sleep with me anyways right?” 
  • To differentiate between the two Yuris, everyone calls Yuri Yurio which annoys him to no end (”I was here first, what the hell?!”) 
  • Mila and Yuuri friendship 
  • Victor getting jealous of the attention Yuuri receives on the first day he meets everyone
  • Yuuri and Victor coming home after the first day and Yuuri admitting to Victor that having to meet so many new people took a lot out of him and he’s happy to just be home alone with Victor 
  • More Yurio and Yuuri bonding time 
  • Yurio going through a growth spurt and being slightly taller than Yuuri but still shorter than Victor
  • etc…

Season 2 needs to be announced so I can truly be at peace. 

I can’t wait to find the love of my life. I can’t wait to buy her flowers and cute clothes that I think would look good on her. I can’t wait to bring her her favorite food when she’s having a bad day, or even when she’s having a good one! I can’t wait to take her out to dinner and watch her face light up when the food gets to the table because she so excited to devour it. I can’t wait for lazy days where we lay in bed watching movies and eating junk food. I can’t wait for those days where we can’t get enough exploring into one day because 24 hours doesn’t seem like nearly enough time. I can’t wait until we’re walking around the mall talking about life, and holding hands with her makes me feel so complete. I can’t wait to look at her and tell her that I love her and mean it with all my heart. I can’t wait to compliment her and watch her blush like she’s never been complimented before. I can’t wait to be all hers and for her to be all mine. I can’t wait

“Aren’t you afraid? Aren’t you afraid that one day he will look at another girl the way he used to look at you?” her best friend asks.

“Not anymore, not since I realised that I deserved better. I can see him falling for her, and I am okay with that. I wish him happiness and fulfilment. But he has to understand that some day I am going to look at someone else the way I used to look at him. He has to know that some day someone is going to look at me the way he used to, and they are going to choose to stay. My world will not stop turning because he no longer is there to help it turn when I can’t get out of bed in the morning. I have learnt to be a complete person without him.

when I say I wanna have sex I don’t mean I wanna get fucked and cum I mean I wanna makeout with someone for half an hour on my couch with grabby hands all over my body and our teeth clashing because we get so into it that we can’t stop kissing, I mean slow desperate, needy grinding on each other before we take it to the bed, bumping our heads, giggling as we take our clothes off, trying to adjust and get into the right position, I mean having someone on top of me and looking up at them to see that blissful little grin on their face before they scrunch it up a lil and moan because it feels sooooo good and I mean making each other cum so good we end up all out of breath, a sweaty, happy mess, fingers still intertwined, my legs still around their waist, making out again, that’s what I want and it would be kinda cool if I could have it now - @hermuis

Your OTP + Kids
  • Who in your OTP carries them from the couch/car to the bed?
  • And who soothes the kids after a nightmare?
  • Who wants to throw out the car seat because the stupid thing won’t strap in?
  • Who cries on the first day of school?  
  • Gets the kids into the local sports team?
  • And who’s the parent that gets way too aggressive at these games?
  • Who in your OTP lets the kids stay up and watch movies and who sends them to bed?
  • Who sneaks candy to the kids before school, whilst the other pretends not to notice?
  • Who is the parent that yells at the kid for being called to the principal’s office and who is the parent who yells at the principal?
  • Who teaches their son to tie a tie and who
  • Explains periods to their daughter?
  • Who cries at graduation?
  • Who reads the book in silly voices?
  • Who’s the one against sweets before dinner and who lets it slide?
  • Who gets rid of the monster in the closet and under the bed?
  • Which parent sneaks veggies into the kids’ dinner and who doesn’t like veggies themselves?
  • Who in your OTP does the “hurt my baby and I’ll kill you” speech when their kid brings someone over?
  • Who goes on all the rides with the kids because their partner gets queasy on rides?

anonymous asked:

Okay but.... Imagine blind!Lance and Keith hanging out after everyone's gone to bed and having Keith describe what things look like because he was born blind. And letting Lance feel his face since he's never seen it before, he should get some idea. And Lance having Keith describe what Lance looks like to him and he goes on for abt 10 minutes in detail about how beautiful Lance is and he just. Beams. Keith doesn't even realize he's rambling abt how pretty Lance is

i need to lay down

@ third party voters: i hope you enjoy your moral integrity while kids are watching their parents get kicked out of the country, while women are scared to leave the house because half the country has just said that sexual assault is ok, while LGBT people are losing their right to love

i hope you go to bed tonight knowing that you could have stopped this. this is on you.