marital rights
German MPs approve gay marriage in snap vote - BBC News
Gay men and lesbians are given full marital rights - but Chancellor Merkel votes against the change.

A clear majority of German MPs have voted to legalise same-sex marriage, days after Chancellor Angela Merkel dropped her opposition to the idea.

The reform gives gay men and lesbians full marital rights, and allows them to adopt children.

At present, same-sex couples are limited to civil unions.

But Mrs Merkel, who only decided to allow the vote on Monday, voted against the measure. Her political opponents were strongly in favour.

(Read more)

Many Marry in Germany Following Marriage Equality Vote

Photos compiled by Mashable.

“The lower house passed the bill by a margin of 393-226 and the measure is expected to be put in place by the end of the year. The reform means same sex couples now have full marital rights, including child adoption. The German legal code has been updated to say ‘marriage is entered into for life by two people of different or the same sex.’“


Author’s Note: Hey guys! This is my entry for @frickfracklesackles‘ Natalie’s 1,000 Follower Celebration Movie-Trope Challenge! CONGRATS GIRL, you deserve it! Go give her a follow if you haven’t already! For her challenge, I picked a character (actor in this case!), trope and a movie quote! Prompts are below and quote will be bolded in the fic. As always, I love feedback so much and my tag list is open; send me an ask if you want to join. :) I hope you like this! Also thank you to @avasmommy224 for reading this and giving me your opinion! It helps so much you have no idea :)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 4,000-ish

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (a tad), mentions of cheating, I don’t want to give too much away!!!

Trope: 12. Meet actor on vacation and become lovers

Movie Quote: m. “Marriage! The end of spontaneous sex, traveling by yourself, and buying whatever you want without having to ask permission. Right?” - How To Be Single

Song Inspirations: “I Want You” by Kings of Leon, “Send My Love (To Your New Lover)” by Adele and “Rich” by Maren Morris

Originally posted by mishasminions


Honey. Moon.

Who the hell came up with that word anyway? As I’m sitting here on this charter bus that’s taking me to my resort hotel, I’m watching about three newlywed couples about to get it on on the nasty, itchy seats that probably haven’t been cleaned in years. Rolling my eyes, I decided to grab my headphones out of my carry-on and shove them in my ears before I said something to them.

I decided to look up where the word ‘honeymoon’ came from before I had to witness post-marital bliss conjure right before my eyes.

Typing quickly on my phone, I could feel the bus pulling to a stop, but I wasn’t paying attention. It would be at least five minutes before I was able to get off this godforsaken bus anyway. Why did I choose a seat in the back again? I’ll never know.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Rosvolio + wedding night?

There was not enough wine in the world to ready Benvolio for what he was about to do.

God knows, he had done his best to fortify himself for the task at hand, having finished off several glasses of his uncle’s best Rhenish between all the feasting and the dancing – and, for his pains, was now feeling more than a trifle light-headed – but he could not yet bring himself to rise from his chair and make his way upstairs, where his all-too unwilling bride waited.

The ceremony had taken place that morning in Capulet’s cathedral, as his uncle had wished, for the remaining structural work had miraculously – and mysteriously – been completed before the arrival of autumn. All of Veronan society had turned out for the occasion, dressed their most colorful silks, velvets, and brocades, making the interior of the basilica resemble nothing less than a great casket of jewels. His bride, for her part, had made her way towards the altar dressed in a gown of deep cerulean blue, and Benvolio couldn’t help but notice the bodice, cut square and delectably low across her chest – before he had the good sense to shift his gaze upward.

As the assembled nobles stood watching, the two of them had knelt, their hands joined together by the bishop, followed by an exchange of vows in Latin. There was a brief mass, and those gathered took communion, beginning with the newly-married couple, both of them dutifully parting their lips to receive the body of their Lord. It had been difficult for Benvolio not to think back to the last wedding he had attended – a secret one, with only two witnesses, the ceremony performed by a humble friar – and draw altogether unfavorable comparisons. For all the misfortunes it had brought, his cousin’s marriage had at least been born out of love, not politics, and there had been no mistaking the joy and passion in the eyes of Romeo and his Capulet bride as they had uttered their vows in that candle-lit chapel. Benvolio’s new wife would not even look at him – although he could hardly blame her, given his rather cowardly lack of resistance to the news of their betrothal. And if her heart secretly belonged to another, as he had come to suspect, gazing upon his face would no doubt bring her only pain.

At the celebratory feast that evening, they had proved a somber pair as they sat together at the high table, sharing from the same plate and goblet, but saying almost nothing to each other. She drank but a half-glass of wine and ate very little, and part of him wondered if she planned to escape this marriage simply by refusing to eat, intent on wasting away from lack of sustenance. As the revelries proceeded into the night, Benvolio found himself reaching for the wine time and again, refilling the glass from the silver flagon that sat nestled among the platters of food. The warm evening air was heavy with torch-smoke, thick with the sounds of the drum and pipe as they sung out over the voices in the crowded courtyard, and Benvolio had slowly felt his head begin to spin with it.

In that haze, his eyes had found occasion to seek her out, drawn to her as to a lodestone, although he did not dare to let them linger long. For even in her silent indignation, his wife truly was beautiful – no man could deny it. In the warmth of the torchlight her skin shimmered with rich tones of gold and umber, pulling attention to the winged jut of her collarbones and the length of her neck. She had been endowed with wide, dark eyes, made more expressive by her frequent displays of wit, and a pair of full and rounded lips that seemed to have been formed for no other purpose than to be kissed. He remembered how she had once spoken of her desire to enter a convent – but by Saint Peter, what a waste that would have been.

Yet in the end it mattered not what he thought of her neck or her eyes or even the fullness of her lips, for she did not want him and had only consented to marry him by means of great persuasion from her uncle and the prince. And as Benvolio stared into his half-empty glass, he had realized he could not bear to have her think of him the same way, as yet another man who sought to break her will upon his own.

By and by, the night had grown late, the torches burning low within their sconces, and the time had come for the bride to take her leave and excuse herself from the assembled company. She had risen to her feet amid the ribald cheers and customary encomiums to her beauty and virtue, and just as quickly departed – all without a single glance in Benvolio’s direction. A pair of serving women had been directed to escort her upstairs to his chambers and there she was to make herself ready for bed.

Benvolio waited as long as he possibly could to follow, and he might have waited a while longer, had not his uncle come and clasped a strong hand around his shoulder.

“Go, Benvolio, and make a Montague of her,” he urged, nodding his head towards the stairs, “or at least put one in her.”

Benvolio’s face burned bright with shame – for they should all have been ashamed, having cruelly used this young maid as a pawn in their dealings – but his uncle mistook it for excitement and laughed lustily, quickly pulling Benvolio out of his chair and pushing him in the direction of his chamber.

His feet were like lead upon the stairs, a sharp contrast with his dizzy head, and a hopeful part of him latched onto the possibility that she had simply gone to sleep rather than await his arrival.

Alas, fortune did not favor him, for as he quietly opened the door he could see that a single candle had been left burning and his new bride was sitting up in bed, very much awake. She was clad in a nightgown of fine ivory linen, her unbound hair falling in loose curls over her shoulders. A pair of dark eyes instantly turned towards him, her hands stiff as she clutched the bedclothes tightly against her chest. He had not imagined that he could possibly feel more abashed, but the way she was staring at him, with equal parts defiance and fear written into her gaze, made his heart twist forcefully against his ribs. Had she imagined that he would straightaway attempt to claim his marital rights, he wondered, even in the face of her unwillingness? One look at her was all it took for him to know.

“Fear not, lady,” he muttered with a sigh, “I will not impose myself upon you.”

His words seemed to put her at ease, but only slightly, her wary eyes still fixed upon him as he stepped into the room.

“And what of tomorrow night, and the nights that follow?” she asked. “Will you say the same?”

“I will say it every night you do ask it of me,” he answered quietly, “for I am not the unrepentant blackguard you imagine every Montague must be.” Benvolio rubbed his hand along his forehead, a sudden weariness overtaking him. “But for tonight, put out thy candle and let us have peace. I will rest elsewhere…” – he nodded towards the long wooden bench set flush against the opposite wall – “…and leave you to your dreams.”

He did not wait to see her reaction, but made his way over to his makeshift bower and swiftly stripped himself down to his shirt and hose. It was not until he had laid down upon the bench, using his wadded-up doublet as a cushion for his head, that he realized she had not blown out the candle. Let her keep the light, he thought as he closed his eyes, if it brings her some comfort.

He had almost surrendered to the weight of sleep when he heard her shifting upon the mattress.

“I wonder, my lord,” she murmured, “if you had decided… to impose yourself, what might you have done?”

Benvolio’s eyes snapped open, uncertain that he had heard her true. He glanced over and saw that she had turned onto her side to face him, propping herself up upon an elbow. Something had shifted in her expression, for while she still held herself guardedly, she no longer looked quite so apprehensive, and her eyes glinted with a spark of curiosity. Still, in the thick fog of his mind he could not be sure she knew exactly what it was she was asking.

“What might I have done, when I came into the room?” he stammered.

She nodded, her gaze wide enough that he could see the light of the candle reflected there. Time seemed to slow for a moment, in the stillness of his half-darkened chamber, and all Benvolio could feel was the rough pounding of his heart within his chest. He did not entirely understand why she had thought to ask such a thing, but he would give her an answer – a truthful one.

“Well… to begin, I would have come to sit by your side, lady. For ‘tis all very dependent on proximity.”

“Of course,” she said, her features softening ever so slightly. “And then?”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a wry smile, the first time it had done so all day. “Perhaps I would have kissed you,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Gently at first, and then with greater urgency.”

With her gaze still caught on his, she bit against the fullness of her bottom lip, perhaps in innocence, or perhaps to tease him – and with a tightening sensation in his belly, Benvolio realized he did not care in the slightest which it was.

“Is that all?” she asked.

He exhaled roughly, his breath half-mixed with laughter. “Oh, my Rosaline, had you no nursemaid to tell you of such things?” He paused and pursed his lips, taking her coy silence as his cue to continue with his answer. “No, ‘tis merely the beginning. For then I might have taken you into my arms and held you close, until naught remained to separate us.”

Her lips parted a little, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “And what of our clothes?”

“I would fain have us unclothed,” Benvolio replied, and her dark eyes widened, as if scandalized at the thought. “As husband and wife, there should be no secrets between us.” He swallowed hard, allowing his mind to momentarily cloud with visions of his new bride, her bare skin velvet-smooth and flush with yearning. Perhaps it was only the presence of such distracting thoughts that could explain the liberties he took in speaking to her so brazenly. 

“And I would wish to see you, my lady – all of you – as you laid back and pulled me down with my weight upon you. For then there would be nothing left but for me to possess you fully, our bodies joined together in the most intimate of ways.”

He fell silent, knowing not what else to say as he gazed at her, recumbent upon his bed, the wild tendrils of her hair spilling onto the sheets, her eyes shining with something that could only be desire. His breath came heavy, caught in his throat, his hunger for her coiling and nestling deep within his groin. Benvolio found himself filled with the compulsion to rise to his feet and make his way over to where she lay, so he might in fact begin to enact that sequence of events he had just described to her. Before he could do anything, though, she tilted her head, her gaze leveling him with cool appraisal.

“Perhaps it is fortunate, then, that you were compelled to restrain yourself,” she said, her eyebrows raised into uniform arches. “For now, armed with such knowledge, I feel wholly prepared to resist any advances should they be attempted.” She gave him one final shrewd glance before she put her lips up to the candle’s flame.

“Good night, my lord,” she whispered, and with a single breath plunged the room into darkness.

For a moment, Benvolio could only lay back upon the bench, fully awash in bewilderment and frustration, listening to the rustle of the bed linens as she settled herself down for sleep. But as he recalled the words that had just passed between them, he finally came to the realization that she had provoked him deliberately, drawing his mind towards thoughts of carnal pleasures all the while knowing she would allow him no satisfaction of them. But her response to his words had been clear enough – she could not have feigned such desire, could she? Jesu, what sort of bold little minx had he married?

And then he couldn’t help but smile, and shake his head, knowing that he had all the remaining days – and nights – of his life to figure it out.

[my Still Star-Crossed ficlets are on AO3 – read them here]

LOL! That smile that Archie has on his face looks so fake at the CS wedding! I imagine that he’s thinking, “Why does the asshole pirate, who tied me up and kidnapped me deserve a happy ending? Why am I marrying these two assholes? It was so much more fun to marry Rumple and Belle. Where did those two beautiful true lovebirds go wrong? Why am I not helping Rumbelle? I should be giving them counseling, and saving their marriage right now. Instead, I’m here, marrying these two fake assholes right now because Hook forced me to be a minister for the wedding by tying me up and kidnapping me, and Emma let him do it because she’s given up all her self-respect and personal values for this total tool, who doesn’t deserve her. Still, it’s ‘true love.’”

Because, I mean, just compare Archie’s very fake smile when he’s marrying CS to the very real smile that he had on his face at the Rumbelle wedding when he married them.

Originally posted by nightingale96

Originally posted by rumbellesource
Germany to vote on same-sex marriage after Merkel drops opposition
Bill to grant marital rights to gay couples hastily put on agenda after chancellor signalled shift in her position on issue

AFP, via The Guardian

Germany’s parliament is due to vote on a bill to legalise same-sex marriage on Friday after the lower house legislative committee put it on the agenda, its chairwoman said.

“The path to equality is open,” said Renate Künast, of the left-leaning ecologist Greens opposition party, in a tweet on Wednesday.

The bill is widely expected to pass as it is backed by most parties and the chancellor, Angela Merkel, has told lawmakers of her centre-right party that they can vote according to their conscience.

The reform would grant full marital rights – including the possibility to jointly adopt children – to gay and lesbian couples, who in Germany are only able to enter civil unions.

The bill was hastily put on the parliamentary agenda on the last day before the summer break by the centre-left Social Democrats, Greens and far-left Linke party.

They acted after Merkel dropped her opposition to the reform, sparking widespread calls for a speedy vote.

Merkel had long voiced personal reservations about gay marriage with adoption rights, citing concern about “the wellbeing of the children”.

Last Sunday, her junior coalition partners and election rivals, the Social Democrats, upped the ante by declaring they would insist on same-sex marriage in any future alliance.

All other political parties hold the same view, leaving Merkel’s party opposed, along with the hard-right Alternative for Germany.

Merkel signalled a shift in her position on Monday in an on-stage interview with the editor of women’s magazine Brigitte.

She said her thinking had changed after a “memorable experience” when she recently met a lesbian couple who lovingly care for eight foster children in her Baltic coast constituency.

{Part 1} I Can’t Lose You // Jackson Wang (Highschool AU!)

Originally posted by ughjacksonwang

Pairing: Jackson x Reader (featuring Jooheon from MONSTA-X as the schooll bully!)

Genre: HighschoolAU!, angst, fluff

Summary; Your best friend Jackson goes head to head with Jooheon, the school bully - and you stick up for him as best you can. Later, Jackson learns that Jooheon physically abused you after school; and he feels a certain type of anger he’s never felt before.

WARNING: This scenario contains mentions of bullying + physical abuse

Read {Part 2} here!

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I Marched For My Students

I Marched For My Students

I marched because children of undocumented residents shouldn’t have to live in fear of their family being split up.
I marched because my students will someday grow up and they deserve the right to make choices concerning their bodies.
I marched because my students don’t understand why making fun of people and bullying people isn’t allowed at school, yet you can still become president if you do it.
I marched because some of my students might someday realize they are gay, and they deserve the same marital rights that I have.
I marched because some of my students might someday realize they are trans or non binary, and their life is so much more valuable than being reduced to what bathroom they should use.
I marched because I have access to lifesaving healthcare, and every single one of my students deserves that too.
I marched because public schools need more funding– not diminished funding due to a “voucher system”.
I marched because if any of my students convert to Islam, they deserve to practice their religion with the same freedom that I as a Christian have.
I marched because I love my black, brown, and white students with all my heart, but all lives won’t matter until black and brown lives matter.

It wasn’t because my candidate lost that I marched. It’s because of the values I believe in that are being encroached upon. Although the march may have ended, the labor that it will take to fight for these values has just begun.

misscrazyfangirl321  asked:

Captain Canary 5 Headcanons? :)

Once again, you have successfully thrown a challenge at me, because, while I ship them, Captain Canary isn’t my OTP.

But, here is what I came up with.

#1: Thanks to a device Ray had created on the Waverider, he was able to power down the Oculas right after Sara and Leonard kissed, but right before it exploded. This caused Sara to run back to him, throw herself at him, and give him mulitple kisses in relief; kisses, that Len readily accepted, of course. When Ray saw them kissing, he groaned and said something about owing Mick 20 dollars.

#2: Len was with Sara when her dad broke the news to her that Laurel died. She was too stunned to say anything and Len just led her back to the Waverider where her shock wore off after she finished the hot cocoa he had given her. That’s when she attacked Rip resulting in having to knock her out and put her in a seperate room. Rip sent Len ahead of him so she would be more calm in advance when he arrived. Leonard had never seen Sara more broken and helpless than he did at that moment and didn’t say anything at first and pulled her into a hug. That’s when her emotional dam broke and she started to weep and cling to Len saying how she couldn’t do this without her sister. Len rocked her back and forth rubbing her back saying he knew how she felt.

#3: Len and Sara accidently got married in 2050 when the team had to split up and they were partnered up for the day. They stopped at a bar for a drink and Merlyn someone slipped something in their drinks so he could easily subdue them. But, he was very reluctantly pulled away by Thawne to do something “far more important” so he left (at this point %1000 done with Thawne) without Len and Sara even seeing him. By the time they came down from their drug-induced high, they had a marriage certificate in hand and rings on their fingers that Len must have swiped. Len smugly showed everyone on the Waverider the certificate while Sara was grinding her teeth telling him to shut up. Ray groaned and gave Mick another $20. Len and Sara got it all sorted out, but for months after that when someone would catch them in a fight, he would smile and say it was “Nothing more than a marital spat, right, Mrs. Snart?” This would result in Sara throwing a larger fit, and a knife getting thrown into the wall right beside Len’s head.

#4: Len and Sara had a running bet on if Mick would ask Amaya out or vice versa. When Mick finally got the guts to after she nearly died in World War II, Sara groaned and gave Len the $100 she owed him; he turned around and used the money to buy Sara a new set of throwing knives for her birthday. He bought them in Japan where they were cheaper and were very keen on taking American dollars. They quickly became Sara’s favorite set.

#5: They got married for real when they got back to 2017, and settled down in Central City. (It took her dad a while to accept that #1: Sara lived so far away and, #2: that she was with a formally convicted criminal). They had a set of twins, Tanner and Sierra. Tanner was a lot like Sara would have been, had she not been stranded on Lian Yu and Len had not been abused as a kid. Quiet, but with a generous heart, while Sierra was the sassiest girl on the planet, kicking butt with Barry and Iris’ kids at S.T.A.R. Labs and being one of the most popular girls at school.

Originally posted by captaincanarylegendsoftomorrow

ikhamohd  asked:

Hi, can i request scenario ? When n and you arranged married. You don't have any experience in love.

Here you go! I added the ‘kidnapping’ part you asked for. I hope you like it :D

N x Reader


Word count: 2,676


“But dad! I don’t want to marry him.” 

You whined over and over again, but your father didn’t seem to listen, or even care. But this time, he put his spoon down and exchanged looks with your mother before addressing you:

“We’re doing this for your own good, and for the family.” 

Your mother gave you an apologetic look and you turned to look at your father.

“But… I don’t know him. I don’t even know his name. How am I supposed to marry him?”

“His name is Hakyeon. He’s 26 years old and next Saturday you’ll be his wife. End of discussion.” 

You gave your mother a pleading look but she averted her eyes away from you. You turned to look at your brother.

“I’m sorry.” 

He whispered. You felt blood boil in your veins. You put your spoon down, stood up and looked at your father as you said: 

“You never allowed me to date and now you want me to get married?”

He darted his gaze in your direction. 

“I did it to protect you, and I’m doing this to protect you too.” 

“I will not marry him! You can’t force me!” 

You yelled and ran up the stairs toward your room. You locked yourself inside your room, flopped into your bed and cried yourself to sleep.Your father has always been strict about dating. Being a member of the Parliament, he was very careful about the people surrounding his family. Your friends were carefully chosen by him and your mother and boyfriends were never allowed. Now that his position was at risk, he managed to obtain the support of the Prime Minister by marrying you off to his only son. 


Your mother walked into the room with a sad smile on her face. She stared at you dotingly and then asked the bridesmaids to leave the room for a minute. She closed the door before walking up to you. She knelt down in front of you and the smile on her face disappeared when she noticed the tears welling in your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry.”

She almost whispered. 

“I don’t want to get married. Please.” 

She placed her hand on your knee and held your chin up as she said: 

“Hakyeon is a very nice guy. He’s handsome and kind…”

She paused when a tear escaped and rolled down your face. She wiped it away with her handkerchief and then said: 

“I tried to convince your father to postpone the wedding, but… you know how stressful the period of elections is for him.”

“But what about me?”

Before she could say anything you heard a knock on your door. The door was opened and you saw Hakyeon’s mother walk into the room with a smile on her face. You looked away not wanting her to see you cry as she and your mother hugged and kissed. 

“Is our beautiful bride ready?”

You hummed in response. 

“Great! I’ll let them know you’ll be down in 5 minutes. Is that enough?”

You hummed again. 

“Let’s go. The girls will help her get ready.” 

Your mother said as she led Hakyeon’s mother out of the room. The room was then filled with servants and bridesmaids who helped you fix your make up before leading you downstairs to where the guests were waiting. 


You took your father’s arm and held the bouquet with your other hand as you walked down the isle. You lifted your head up to look at your future husband to find him looking at you with a grin on his face. He was handsome with his sun-kissed skin and dark hair covering his forehead. His eye smile was pretty but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe he was smiling at you. He’s smiling because he has to smile, you thought to yourself when you noticed the cameras capturing every step you took toward him. 

When Hakyeon shook hands with your father, your heart sunk. A few seconds separated you from being Mrs. Cha and you had no idea what to do to stop that from happening. Your father pulled you in his arms and patted your back before handing you over to your groom. Hakyeon smiled at you and help up his hand for you to hold. You hesitated for a couple of seconds before placing your hand in his. Your heart skipped a beat when your hand touched his. He walked you toward the officiant before turning to face you. Exchanging your vows and ending them with “I do,” you froze in your place when the officiant announced you husband and wife. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

You stared at Hakyeon in terror. You’ve never been kissed before. Feeling his lips on yours hypnotized you. As soon as he pulled away you averted your eyes away from him. He noticed the blush creeping into your face so he leaned closer to you and whispered:

“I’m sorry. I had to do it, for the press.” 

You looked up at him to find a light shade of pink covering his cheeks. You didn’t expect him to apologize. You gave him a tiny nod before allowing him to lead you out of the wedding hall and into the garden where the reception was held. 


As soon as the reception was over, you and Hakyeon were heading toward the hotel you were spending the night at. You struggled to stop your body from trembling and you hoped Hakyeon didn’t notice the scared look on your face. You didn’t know what to expect from him once you were completely alone with him. You definitely didn’t expect him to sleep on the couch and leave the bed for you to sleep on. You also didn’t expect him to leave the room as soon as he woke up to give you the chance to change your clothes comfortably. Bottom line, you didn’t expect him to be this considerate. You thought he’d take advantage of you and demand his marital rights from the first night. But you still didn’t trust him. Therefore, after having breakfast with your mothers and going back to your room, you decided to talk to him. 

You were sitting on the couch in your hotel room waiting for him to come out of the shower to talk to him. He walked out of the bathroom fully dressed. Taking the seat next to yours, he turned to face you and said: 

“I need to talk to you.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. You were about to say the same thing. When you didn’t answer, he said: 

“I know you were forced into this marriage. I won’t say I was forced too. I… I’ve seen you before and I… I wanted to talk to you on several occasions but I never got the chance to do so.” 

He paused for a second when he noticed the surprised look on your face. 

“When my father told me about the arranged marriage I said yes, and I was hoping you’d say yes too.” 

“I didn’t really say yes.”

You said. He lifted his hand up to hold your chin but you backed away. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He apologized. 

“I… I’m just not used to being touched like this.” 

You explained.

“I haven’t been in a relationship before… so this all is new to me. I know we’re married but I still can’t… can’t take being touched by you.” 

“Don’t think of us as a married couple. Let’s take our time to get to know each other before we consider ourselves married to each other.” 

You stared at him for a few seconds before asking: 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because… I like you and I want you to be happy. I’ll do anything it takes to see your smile.” 


He kept his promise. In front of your families, he was your husband. Behind closed doors, you were left to mind your own business and he wouldn’t bother you whatsoever. This lasted for a whole month. The bedroom was yours and he’d only enter it when you’d grant him permission. You’d spend hours chatting or just watching T.V. together without him trying to touch you or hold your hands. You were starting to get closer to each other the more you spent time together. He was funny and had interesting stories to share with you. He was also sweet and kind, always complementing your dresses or your hairdo without you asking for his opinion. You were starting to feel attracted to him and he made sure to always tell you that he truly liked you and cared for you.  

One day while shopping with one the assistants hired by Hakyeon, you noticed a weird looking man following you around. Every time you walked into one of the shops he’d wait outside and keep following you once you were out. Almost half an hour later he approached you. You flinched when you turned around and found him standing behind you. He bowed and then said: 

“Mrs. Cha, Mr. Cha is waiting for you. He had asked us to escort you to the restaurant where you’re supposed to have lunch together.” 

You turned to look at your assistant who said: 

“I don’t think he said anything about lunch today.” 

The man glared at her and then said: 

“Ma’am, we need to go now. We shouldn’t be late.”

You reached for your cell phone as you said: 

“Let me call him first.” 

“Ma’am please. We’ll get scolded if you’re late. We’ll call him on the way.” 

You hesitated for a second as you exchanged looks with your assistant. Hakyeon didn’t tell you about a lunch date so you weren’t sure what to do. You didn’t want him to scold his men either so you decided to leave with them while the assistant when home. 


As soon as you got in the car, you realized these weren’t Hakyeon’s men. There were 2 other men in the car, both dressed in black and looking suspicious. The man who had led you toward the car sat next to you. 

“Where are we going?”

You asked. 

He looked at you and then grabbed your purse before saying: 

“You’ll know when we get there.” 

You were starting to panic, especially after noticing that one of the men had a gun. 

“Give me back my purse!”

You said in a demanding tone, trying to seem as brave as you could. The man laughed and then took your phone out before saying: 

“Didn’t you say you want to call your husband? We’ll call him for you.” 

He dialed Hakyeon’s number and told him that they have you. You could hear Hakyeon yelling from the other end of the line but the man stated his conditions before hanging up on Hakyeon. 

“Where are you taking me?”

You asked and the man shushed you again. You tried grabbing your phone out of his hand but he pushed you aside and threw the phone out of the window.


You yelled and he grabbed your arm forcefully before saying: 

“Shut up or I’ll cut your tongue!” 

You retreated into your seat, a hot silent tear rolling down your cheek.  


An hour passed as the car kept breaking through the streets toward an isolated area away from the city. You looked through the window to see very few cars driving by the car of your abductors. One of the men pulled you away from the window when you attempted to ask the passersby for help. 

“Don’t make me hurt you!” 

He almost yelled, and you were shivering in fear as you nodded lightly and retreated into your seat again. You didn’t know what to expect. You had no idea why you were here in the first place. It could be because of your dad and it could be Hakyeon’s dad. It could be both; anyhow, you were sure it was because of the elections. The Parliament has been in a mess over the past three weeks and both your father and your father-in-law were involved in reform movements, and the left wing was against their policies. 

Suddenly, sirens were getting closer and the situation inside the car was getting chaotic. The men were looking out of the window and yelling at the driver to speed up. Police cars were starting to keep pace with the car and your heart skipped a beat when you realized this could be an attempt to save you. 

The car was soon trapped between 6 police cars on both sides no matter how much the driver tried to escape. You clung to the seat in front of you as the car moved back and forth. You let out a cry when you realized Hakyeon was driving the first car to your left. You yelled in terror as he leaned into the abductor’s car and hit its side once, causing it to slow a bit. He sped a bit more until his car was blocking the abductor’s way.    

After a few more minutes, the car finally stopped. You tried opening the door but one of the men pulled you back as he shielded his body with yours. A few police men had sneaked behind the car and grabbed a hold of the driver and the man sitting in the passenger’s seat. The door was open and you were face with another police man. You let out a cry when the man behind you pushed you at the police man and attempted to jump out of the car only to be surrounded by three more police men.  

Hakyeon left his car and ran in your direction upon seeing you get pushed away from your abductors. You were surprised to find him standing in front of you. He stared at you for a second before pulling you in his arms. He stroked your back and hair as he said: 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone. This is all my fault.”

You hesitated for a second before wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your face in his warm, safe embrace. You took a deep breath as you stilled in his hold before saying:

“Please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m fine.”

You pulled out a few seconds later. He stared at him before cupping your cheeks and asking: 

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” 

“I’m fine.” 

You said and he leaned forward and printed a kiss on your temple causing you to blush heavily as he hugged you again, and for the first time, you knew what it means to be loved. His gentle strokes on your back, his reassuring words, the visible worry in his eyes, he definitely didn’t do this because he had to. He did it because he loved you, and he was afraid of losing you. You could really feel it. It was unlike anything you’d ever imagined. Over the past couple of months you could feel that he liked you, cared for you, but this hug was different. At the first contact between your bodies, you felt his love radiating from his warm embrace and shielding you with an invisible aura. It made you feel safe, comfortable, at home. 

You remained in each other’s arms for a couple more minutes. He pulled out and cupped your cheek as he said: 

“I won’t let this happen to you ever again, I promise.”

You gave him a tiny nod and he printed another kiss on your temple before taking you home. You linked your arm with his and he looked at you with a beautiful smile adorning his face. 

“I think I’m starting to like you.” 

You said as you smiled shyly. His smile became wider and his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. He tightened his hold around your arm and took you toward his car before helping you get in. The smile didn’t leave his face as he drove you home, and you could feel this would be the beginning of a new chapter in your life, a chapter called love.

Rejecting Pakistani and Islamic Marriage Stereotypes: why being asexual does not mean I must conform TW: Rape, marital rape, domestic violence

I am single and most definitely not ready to mingle. You may be wondering why an aromantic asexual like myself needs to worry about ‘mingling’ if it’s something I don’t want to do? Well, my fellow peers, I have the great privilege of belonging to the Pakistani Muslim community, and if you happen to be an adult woman in such a community, much like myself, you are expected to take the next step in life: marriage.

Marriage is considered a natural process amongst my people. You grow up, get an education, pursue a career if necessary (because why would a woman need to work when she will end up a housewife?) and get married. The general consensus is that a heterosexual marriage is the final step to completion for a woman. A woman is only ‘whole’ when she has a husband and children. Daughters are just extra baggage for parents until they can be married and sent away. Emphasis is laid upon the daughter, rather than the son, to find a partner, and parents go to extreme lengths and efforts in order to make that happen. Once their daughter is married, parents can sigh a relief and pat themselves on the back for doing such a great job and making it through such a difficult time. And the sons? They can wait, because “no woman is ever good enough for him anyway”. The unmarried daughters who are still trying to figure out their lives already know that we are a burden to our parents, simply because we identify with the female sex.

We know, because the one question you can guarantee any unmarried Pakistani woman has been asked by members of the community is “have you found a husband yet?” Pakistanis don’t care if you are enjoying your studies or managed to get a promotion a work, they just want to know when the next wedding will be so they can dress up and gossip with their old cronies. ‘Why are you not married yet? What are your family waiting for? Do you want to grow old and become a spinster? Is our boy not good enough for you?’ Questions asked countless times seem harmless enough to an outsider, but for the responder, it’s hard to miss their implications. The message is clear: why are you still single when you would be happier and safer with a husband?

 Yes, aunty-jee, once I am married I will be ‘happy’ and ‘safe’. I will be ‘safe’ from your intrusive questions about my personal life. I will be ‘safe’ from my own family’s criticisms and instead fall mercy to the scrutiny of my new in-laws. I will be ‘safe’ from the gossip, societal shunning and violence that unmarried Pakistani women face, and all because I have the immunity of being a wife. Yes, aunty-jee, I will most certainly be ‘safe’.

The fact that unmarried woman are not considered safe and are targets for public shaming seems to be the bigger problem here, but every Pakistani woman knows that. After all, it’s been embedded into our minds practically all our lives. Once we are old enough to understand what it means to be desirable, we are taught to condition ourselves to fit the stereotype of a good Pakistani wife. And this starts young. I’m talking about little girls at 3 yrs old using skin whitening soap so they can grow up for men to call their fair skin ‘beautiful’. I’m talking about teenage girls being told a good girl is unassuming, unassertive, submissive and obedient.

This isn’t just a few among many. I’m talking about a culture from a country perpetuated by a long history of misogyny: where sons are seen as a blessing and daughters a burden, where honour killings, daughters killed for the shame of being female, still take place, and where Malala Yousafzai was shot for campaigning for a woman’s rights to education. I’m talking about the women who are guilt tripped and shamed for their lack of femininity, the female rape victims who are shunned by society for being ‘bad luck’ and the acid attacks inflicted on women because they were ‘too successful’ for a man to bear.

Woe betide the Pakistani woman who chooses not to marry, for she will garner the hatred of all men and women who think a woman’s place is in servitude to her husband. And woe betide the Pakistani woman who wishes to marry but does not want to conform to the housewife stereotype, for she must face rejection from her own community. And woe betide again for the Pakistani woman who does marry, for her family will abandon her to suffer in silence when she becomes victim to the abuse of her husband and in-laws.

And still, you ask me, why I am worried?

I do not wish to marry because I am afraid marriage will destroy me. I am expected to marry a Muslim man, but how many will actually be accommodating to my asexuality? How many will lure me in with lies and sweet promises to treat me well and then force themselves on me once the contract is signed because it is their marital right? How many will point the finger at me, telling me “do not refuse your husband” because it has been ingrained into every single Pakistani Muslim mind that a woman is submissive and obedient. I will try to seek help from my family, who will use my religion against me and say “you are his wife, it is your Islamic duty to obey him”.

I think I do not need love if marriage is the only way to obtain it. I question why my asexuality feels like a burden on me. Why can I not assume my marriage will be a happy one? Are all people so sexually charged that to even deny sex is wrong? I am left wondering, am I a bad Muslim for not feeling sexual desire? Is my asexuality a sin? Why do I not feel pleasure when everyone else does? Why am I unable to be a good Pakistani and Muslim wife?

I look to my religion for respite. What does Allah actually say about women in marriage? Islam encourages marriage because it contributes to half your deen (faith). Marrying sooner is better for men and women who want to avoid committing illegal sexual activity outside of marriage. Marriage was also recommended by the Prophet Muhammad PBUH, and thus is considered a Sunnah. Some of the benefits to marriage are having a spouse who can provide emotional and spiritual support, receiving certain rights upon marriage and having the ability to create a family of your own.

As an aroace Muslim, I do not consider myself in need to marry for the sake of receiving spiritual and emotional support. I understand the benefits this would have for a couple who are romantically and sexually involved (and for aces who wish to marry), but fail to see how this would apply to me. In my opinion, I find it more appealing to establish that type of bond in a platonic relationship outside of marriage as it avoids all the unnecessary marital expectations that a Pakistani Muslim must face, as mentioned previously. For myself, I believe my spiritual and emotional connection to my faith works best with Allah, as there are no societal/cultural pressures which Allah imposes on me and is a relationship I can establish on my own terms.

I can dismiss the benefit of fulfilling my sexual desire without fear of sin as sexual desire is not something I experience nor is sex something I want to do either. Something worth noting though is that the Prophet PBUH did insinuate that marriage was not necessarily required for those who do not experience sexual desire as there is no fear of sin being committed. I guess you can only listen to the best, right?

Regarding the rights received once married, some would be: a wife’s right to a dowry, sexual satisfaction, financial support and good treatment by her husband. Again, for an aroace woman, none of these rights would personally benefit me as I have no wish to be satisfied sexually, nor do I have the need for someone to treat me well (that would just require good friends/family) and lastly, my aroace identity does not really affect my desire for money nor a dowry (although the extra cash would be handy, it’s not worth the hassle to get married for).

The Prophet PBUH encouraged marriage for those who would most benefit from such a contract, and I believe that, as an aroace with no particular desire for a partner, to fulfil my sexual desire nor to receive the benefits, marriage is not necessary for me. Although there is no obligation to marry in Islam, there is still pressure to conform to the general consensus amongst Muslims to get married, especially as it would be following in the example of the Prophet PBUH. As marriage is so overwhelmingly commonplace, the concept of a Muslim choosing to not marry is seen as unusual, and for someone like me, who chooses not do so for the reasons mentioned above, it is even more radical.

Although my asexuality and desire to not marry is not an issue in Islam, I find that the choices I make in how I practise my religion comes under a lot scrutiny, largely due to the fact that Muslims have a monopoly on following the Islam best tailored to their cultural environment. Muslims in general believe that the hetero-norm of marriage is the only correct way of living your adult life. This means that if I am amongst a Muslim community who believe that I should get married for the benefit of society, then I will be under societal pressure to do, regardless of what I or what Islam itself has to say on the matter.

It is here in this grey area between culture and religion that my conflicts lie. In accordance to Islam the decision to marry is my own, so even if my family and my community are pressurising me and I refuse, I am not ‘technically’ disobeying God. I say this sceptically because although it is my Islamic right to refuse, Islam also tells me that I should be obedient to my parents and avoid unnecessary conflict if they do not directly oppose Islamic teachings.

Unfortunately, this is where my culture plays an important role. If I was to refuse marriage and explicitly state so for the reasons I discussed above, my parents would assume I was intentionally causing conflict as my opinion is so obscure to the set Pakistani norm. They would consider my opinion highly disrespectful as it insults the beliefs they have held their entire lives, and as a result, I would be creating a huge division within my family. I care far too much about the relationship I have with my parents to risk breaking it by suggesting something as not getting married. To me, my parents are the most valued people in my life. They are the people who sacrificed so much in order to give me the best of everything, they fed me, clothed me and cared for me like no one else could.

I remember how my father spent 5 days every week after work tutoring us so we were ahead in class and thus had one less worry as Asian Muslims in an all-white Catholic school. How my mother worked during the day and then attended GCSE classes at night to get her UK education as she didn’t grow up here. When I realise that they must have given up their own selfish desires in order to make sure I never experienced that same sacrifice, I think to myself, surely this once, I can return the favour? If my marriage will make them happy, don’t they deserve that happiness? They deserve better than to be hurt by my own selfishness and pride. When I think about my parents in this way, I understand why God said I should listen to them.

In all honesty, I would be quite happy to avoid marriage at all costs if I could, but that would not help my circumstances nor be conducive to my family situation. As a Muslim, it is during these times I remember that this life is not my paradise. I am not a woman free from obligation, I am in subservience to my Creator, Allah, and not everything I wish for will be granted in this world. That is not the life of a Muslim, and I must remind myself that this life is a test.

As a result, I am left praying that in the near future either my opinion of marriage will change or that I will be able to find a partner understanding of my asexuality. In making this choice, I realise some may think I am no better than the society I criticise for making women conform, for I too have conformed to my own fate. Perhaps I am just a hypocrite, slave to the very traps I sought to escape, or perhaps I can reject the notion of accepting my fate quietly and instead choose to control what is inevitable, and turn it into something I will accept only on my own terms. That too, I think, is also a way to not conform.

Jacqueline & Jack Kennedy Story Time: Romance + Wit

1. Edward Kennedy talked of his brother’s love for Jackie, saying, “My brother really was smitten with her right from the very beginning when he first met her at dinner. Members of the family knew right away that she was very special to him, and saw the developing of their relationship. I remember her coming up to Cape Cod at that time and involving herself in the life of the family. He was fascinated by her intelligence: they read together, pained together, enjoyed good conversation together and walks together.”

2. “Both loved books and presented them to one another as gifts. Both of them were writers…Both had lived abroad. Both ignored their wealth and made their own way in the world, among people who were not equally affluent. Both kept their personal lives to themselves."  (Mini Rhea on how Jack and Jackie fit together so well.)

3.  On Jackie’s trip to Paris, when she was supposed to be taking her mind away from Jack on her mother’s orders, "kept buying all these political books and telling me they were for her stepfather. I knew perfectly well they were for Jack. He loved Aldous Huxley, and so she had a whole suitcase full of him. He had asked her about marriage before we [Aileen and Jackie] left and she was having a very hard time making up her mind about whether she wanted to marry. After the coronation, we went over to Paris. We just went out, to bookstores, to antique stores, to the Louvre. I don’t think it was indecision about him. She was worried about being taken over by politics and another family, because she always wanted to be herself, and I think that losing her own personality was what she was most worried about.” (Aileen Bowdoin Train)

4. On the prospect of engagement while Jackie was away in England, Janet received a call from Jack: “He called me up from, I think, Cape Cod, the day she was flying back…I said,” She’s landing in New York and then flying down to Washington.“ He said, "That plane, I think, stops in Boston and I’m going to meet her there.” It was the first time that I felt that this was really a serious romance, at least on his part. I had suspected that Jackie cared a lot although she had never really said so because she is the sort of girl who covers her feelings.“

5. After their marriage, Jackie wanted to help Jack and be involved in the things he loved, chiefly politics.  She packed him lunches, watched him give speeches with great delight, wrote his witty notes to send with the page boy, and helped him do research and answer mail. Many mornings, she drove jack to his office and stayed to help read through the Congressional Record for issues on educational programs. According to Dave powers, Jackie was  "a perfectionist; anything she did, she wanted to do very well–and she became very, very good at it. That went for politics too. She worked logically, starting with what she did well. She was excellent with languages. She realized that she could help him with the ethnic mail that came into the Boston office from all over Massachusetts–Italians, French, Portuguese, Spanish, Polish.”

6. Jackie dealt with stress, change, and the impact of being First Lady through her humor and pen (writing and art). She tended to dash off humorous sketches of white house workers, people surrounding her, friends–and most infamously her husband was not spared the pen. She drew him on the road-washing his socks in a hotel bathroom- and another for their anniversary, which showed her putting face cream on at her dressing table while he moaned from under the sheets, “I demand my marital rights!”

7. Jackie would leave cartoons and limericks fro Jack in unexpected places to cheer him up when the nation’s affairs were going badly. She would arrange for a special treat–like Joe’s Stone Crabs from Miami–old friends would pay morale boosting calls at her prompting. Her most effective weapon was a surprise visit to his office with the children. And she labored more over his birthday celebrations than over nay state dinner. Many days she would be waiting by the elevator to help him when he emerged from it, dragging himself on crutches. (Letitia Baldrige)

8. Many aides and friends noticed how Jack lavished his focus on her. “He enjoyed her reaction when he surprised her in the family quarters by bringing up guests that she revered, like Robert Frost. On a photo of him and Jackie, he inscribed ‘For Mummy and Uncle Hugh D–with thanks for helping to create the best of half of this photograph.” He told one friend, “you have no idea what a help Jackie is to me, and what she has meant to me. Didn’t she look beautiful?” While the cost of her tastes often set him off, in fact, it was he who usually surprised her with gifts of the sort she cherished– a Renoir drawing, for example, was his first White House Christmas present to her. Arthur Schlessinger says “Jack loves picking out gifts for her; her birthdays would be a profusion of boxes from Keljman and drawings from Wildenstein.”

anonymous asked:

I'm a little surprised about Germany. I live in one of the neighbouring countries and I could have sworn gay marriage was already legalized... It isn't that radical thinking in this part of Europe.

Oooh I looked it up. Registered partnership has been a thing since 2001, that was what I was thinking about. I believe this law is church/marital and adoption rights. Nice!

Yeah, it’s pretty rad! I have yet to talk to any of my family over there to see what they think about it, but I hope to at some point.

–Mod Mercy

emei  asked:

Hi! One of the captive prince-new follower influx, jumping on the opening for prompts! Charls the successful cloths merchant finding out who Damen actually is. (Or anything with Nikandros.) :D

“Come this way,” the servant said.

Charls looked around with interest as he was led through the palace. Every few yards he also glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the men carrying his huge leather books, full of the samples that represented the best fabrics he had to offer, were not endangering them through careless handling.

Charls fiddled with the hem of his tunic, brushed away a tiny speck of dust, then smoothed it. Yes. The green one had been a good choice. This was one of the most important meetings of his life: surely, it was a short step from being invited to provide fabric for the royal wedding clothes to being named Official Cloth Purveyor to the Crown.

He wondered what King Damianos would be like, or if he would even be present. These political marriages; it was a pity, really. The Veretian King was such a bright, attractive young man. But that was how it had to be for aristocrats. Charls thought fondly of his own wife and his lover, the one in Arles and the other in the busy trade port of Basouy. Oh, Floriane had been his old employer’s daughter, and marrying her had guaranteed Charls access to the man’s trade contacts and production sites when he was setting up on his own, but Charls wouldn’t have agreed to it if he hadn’t also genuinely liked her and respected her as a shrewd businesswoman in her own right. Marital harmony was worth a thousand bales of silk.

The servant bowed Charls through a final door, the heavy pile of sample-books was deposited on the floor next to him, and all the men retreated.

There was someone else in the room, who turned from the window when he hears Charls enter: it was the King’s companion, the tall Patran lord, who had met and talked with Charles in an inn and then, later, played at being the King’s assistant. He was dressed simply but well, in Akielon garb that was clearly of the finest grade linen.

“Lamen!” said Charls, delighted. “Or no, is it Alfar, as it was when we first met? I must admit, given everything that has happened, I have never been sure of your true name.”

The Patran, whatever his name was, gave Charls a look that started out surprised and settled somewhere between discomfort and hilarity. Before he could speak, however, the door opened again and His Majesty Laurent the King of Vere strode into the room. He had the same open and irrepressible confidence of manner as he had when playing merchant or prostitute, but Charls thought that his throne suited him: there was a relaxation to his shoulders, a sense that he had finally stepped into the role he’d been born for. He was not wearing the Akielon style, but an embroidered shirt tucked into his Veretian trousers.

“Hello, Charls.”

“Your Majesty!” Charls swept a bow, making sure to flip his cloak over his arm in a way that showed off the quality of the wool. “I was just saying to your–” assistant? bodyguard? “–friend here that I remain ignorant of his name. Much as I have enjoyed our various exploits under false guise.”

There was a pause, so pregnant with unsaid things that Charls was puzzled. And then something began to sparkle in the King’s gaze that Charls, veteran of hundreds of fierce negotiating tables, recognised as the birth of a wild idea.

The King directed that sparkling gaze onto possibly-Lamen.

“And how long do you think you could maintain it this time?” said the Patran, as if responding to something the King had said. He was looking at King Laurent with a fondness that went far past familiarity and into something else. And the King was looking back.

How romantic! How unfortunate! And here the man was, to loyally support his royal beloved, even in the task of preparing for his marriage to another. Charls was touched.

“Laurent,” said Lamen.

“Oh, very well,” said the King. He turned back to Charls. “Charls, this is King Damianos of Akielos.”

Charls opened his mouth. Charls closed his mouth. He looked, unable to help himself, from the top of King Damianos’s head, down to the sandals on King Damianos’s feet, and back up again.

“I know,” said King Laurent, as if in commiseration. “But just think how many yards of fabric I shall be forced to buy from you, in order to cover him.”

Always Put Away Your Toys

so this is for @plumfondler because she kept her promise and gave us another lovely chapter for Co-Star! (even though the characters haven’t fucked yet and we eagerly await the day that they do so, but i digress…) As far as this story goes, usual rules apply: NSFW, Bucky Barnes smut, sex toys involved, etc.

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