my husband was my best friend

i literally cannot think of a heterosexual explanation for the fact that dan and phil share a bank account. that’s legit something you only do with your spouse or like…. super serious significant other. like i don’t think my mom even did that when she was married to my dad and she sure doesn’t do it now with her new husband. i….. im at a loss. can someone possibly give me some kind of platonic excuse for this????? bc im pretty sure one doesn’t exist. just best friends do not share bank accounts. roommates do not do that. family members other than spouses do not do that. your move, doubters.

Also, today is my parents’ anniversary!  They’ve been married for thirty-eight years, and together for forty.

I don’t want to preach, but if you are ever afraid because you are asexual.  If you have a relationship that isn’t based on romantic love.  Mom is asexual.  She also said no to my dad’s proposals three times because she wasn’t in love with him, and she was and still is repulsed by sex.

When Dad asked the fourth time, my mom broke down in tears.  Because she didn’t want to break his heart, because she still cared about him so damn much even if what she felt wasn’t romantic love.  Because the only reason she would have sex with him or anyone was because she wanted to have biological children.  And you know what?

Dad still wanted to be with her, from the time he was eighteen until they both were ready for the grave.  Because he didn’t want to ever be without his best friend in the whole damn world.  Mom meant that much to him.

I can count on one hand how many times my parents have ever kissed in front of me, and every time was on the cheek.  But their hugs are the most heartfelt you’ll ever see.  When they laugh together, you know there’s a deep love between them.  They truly are each other’s best friends.

So congrats, Mom and Dad!  For always being there for each other, for me and my brother, and for my husband and our friends.  You are both amazing, wonderful people, and I am so glad that you found one another.

Source Material
It was fine morning. I woke up, ate breakfast, and headed to work.

Fantasy AU
It was a blessed new dawn. My eyes cracked open, I drank a potion at the tavern, and headed to the local guild to grab a quest.

Victorian England AU
It was a grim and rainy night. I awoke and drank down a bottle of good ol’ whiskey and took a puff of my pipe before heading down to the precinct. Somebody’s been murdered.

Edgy AU
The morning was as dark as my soul. I was already awake. I gulped down a cup of murky water and went to work, where I kick puppies for a living. If you can call my miserable existence “living”.

The AU Where That One Character Didn’t Die
It was a beautiful morning. I woke up in the arms of my 100% alive best friend who’s now also my husband. We ate breakfast together and he wished me a good day before I headed out.

Highschool AU
The alarm clock rang. Oh no, I was gonna be late for the first day of school! I quickly gulped down the breakfast my mom made me and headed to catch the bus.

College AU
The alarm clock rang. Oh fuck, I was gonna be late for my afternoon lectures. I quickly grabbed my clothes and fucked off to class before my dorm mate/girlfriend woke up.

Medieval AU
The sun did shine on that fateful day, as I woke from my slumber and walked out of my chambers and down to the court, where mine father was examining a list of possible suitors.

Space AU
Captain’s log, Stardate 2217.5. It is day 1023 of our 20 year mission to explore new worlds and expand the frontier into the unknown depths of space. I’ve taken my nutrition pills and I am ready for today’s adventure.

Pirate AU
Captain’s log, January 29th, 1717. Yesterday I thought would be my final log, as my ship sunk to Davey Jones’ locker. But behold, as I was having my last meal, a beautiful maiden, half woman and half fish rescued me from the depths.

Space Pirate AU
Captain’s log, 29.01.3017. The galactic authority were on my tail, nearly got us last night. I didn’t get much sleep. The ship’s kitchen system is busted too, so no breakfast either. Still, I’ve got alien hotties to mack on.

Wild West AU
Another sunny day in the Mojave. Five-Foot Joe is still out there. A kind lady gave me a jug of milk because I helped herd her cows. I didn’t stick around for her to thank me though. My work is never done.

Post-Apocalyptic AU
I woke up today, I don’t know what day it is. It’s cold. I slept inside the remnants of an old hotel last night. We were safe from the Creeps there, but I don’t know how long I can keep this group together without food.

Prehistoric AU
Gobrak find meat last night. Eat good. Gobrak find new meat today. Gobrak eat good. Gobrak go hunting.

The Really Weird And Specific AU That’s Popular In One Particular Fandom For Some Reason
It was a fine morning. I woke up, ate breakfast, and headed to work. Also half of my friends are intelligent pets.

I want lance and allura to become best friends in that way where they call each other ‘wife’ and 'husband’
- “hang on let me get my wife’s opinion - HONEY, SHOULD KEITH WEAR THE RED SHIRT OR THE BLACK SHIRT”
- “sorry my husband is the handy man around here” “allura I just want to know how the toaster works”
- random declarations of eternal commitment during briefings
- “my handsome soulmate, my dear husband, your footing is wonky and it’s throwing voltron off balance”
- “my dear, sweet allura - would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? - because right now your name is 'angry tired and stressed’ and I need u to take a fucking chill pill”
- “allura, the love of my life, the essence or my being, would you come shopping for sparkly shit with me?” “of course, my little dove”
- coran introduces a 'one term of endearment per sentence’ limit to keep meetings efficient
- shiro is 'the mistress’
- hunk is 'side ho number one’
- pidge is 'side ho number two’
- keith is 'side ho number three’
- “lance I’m ACTUALLY your boyfriend why the fuck am I side ho number three” “first come first serve bitch”

Dear Liberal Feminists: The Hijab is Not Empowering

I am in Baghdad right now and I have my back to the wall as I type. I am slowly moving my laptop closer to my chest and looking around to make sure nobody else sees what I am writing. I am Iraqi. I am a woman. I am Christian. And I am not a hijabi.

Iraq, much like Iran, used to be a more secular place. The Saddam regime was brutal, but he kept Islamism in the country under control until the end when he sensed his loss of power and began turning to Islam. That is what regimes here usually do.

Liberal feminists will tell you the hijab was a response to the West. It is a defiant act against imperialism! It’s not. I am here and I promise you, the hijab is not empowering.

First, not all Iraqis are Muslim. If Islam is what unites us against imperialism, then where does that leave me? Subjugated. As a Christian and as a woman.

Second, and more importantly, women cannot reclaim our bodies by falling beneath another form of hegemony. “We do not want to submit to the Western men, and therefore we submit to the Arab men” is hardly a step forward.

Let me clarify: I do not want the Western armies in Iraq. They rape, torture, and kill Iraqi women and attempt to steal our limited resources for themselves. I do not, however, think abuse by Arab men is somehow a step in the right direction.

When Saddam fell, Iraqi men quickly searched for power. Those who did not find it are doing what emasculated men always do. They are practicing power over the women in their families.

I find it disgusting but expected that women’s clothing is always inspected. Whatever we wear, it is always the wrong thing for some people. I am not here to tell women what to wear. I am trying to dissect the idea that the hijab is empowering especially here in the Middle East.

In Iraq and in every other Middle Eastern country where the hijab is not required by law, (it is required in Iran and more extremely in Saudi Arabia), there are two specific demographics I have noticed wearing it:
1. Poor, uneducated women
2. The family members of Islamic leaders

I will focus on the first of these before moving on to the second. It is my experience that in almost every country in the world, poor and uneducated people are the most performative in their religion. When I lived in Spain, this was the case. The poor old women who walked along the beach were more devoted to their Christianity than I, a Christian from a place where my family was persecuted for it, ever was.

But both my parents are professors in biology and studied when Baghdad was the best place in the Middle East to study. None of my friends here, who are mostly Muslim, cover their hair. They come from educated families. They do not need to lean on religion.

For poor women, this is different. They are not likely to receive an education and understand from a young age they will need to depend on a husband or be a burden to the family. They often do not have jobs so if there is abuse in the household they are trapped. They have to follow the rules of men to survive, more than I do.

If these woman do not cover from a young age, they will not find a good husband. Men are close-minded and possessive and they cannot deal with a possibility other men saw such “intimate” parts of THEIR wife.

Their families pressure them to follow these rules. An uncovered woman will bring shame to the family first by revealing herself and then by not finding a good husband to provide for her. They are pressured to cover as young as eight and nine years old. Can any person that young devote themselves to an outfit for life?

Street harassment is very common in Baghdad. The few times I have been harassed when outside with hijabi women, they have blamed me for not covering. “I am Christian” I will say. “The men know that” is usually their response. The culture is so toxic that women with the hijab believe they are superior to those without it.

But materially they are inferior and they know that. In almost every case, women who do not cover are wealthier, more educated, better-employed, less-dependent on men, and live materially better lives. So what do poor, uneducated women have? Religion. I really can’t blame them.

Religion is also used as a tool by the second group I mentioned, the Islamic leaders, to unite and control the masses. Sure, your family is starving and your babies are dying from preventable diseases. But what do I offer you? Eternal life in heaven as long as you do everything I tell you in the name of God.

This makes people feel included and gives them purpose. It also creates a hierarchy in society. When men are permitted and even encouraged to oppress the women in their lives, they are more likely to follow the leaders that allow this. It makes them feel powerful. Men, especially poor men, want to feel power over something or someone.

In this way, the hijab is empowering… but only for men. It strips power away from women. It represents a society moving backwards in many ways.

Many women will tell you they choose to wear the hijab or they wear it for Allah. Once you ask questions, you will find this is less true. In almost all cases, they began wearing it at a young age (and always under eighteen) and were pressured by family.

I am hypocritical because I too perform “feminine” things because of family or society pressure. I wear my hair long even though it bothers me and I wish I could shave it off because I do not want to face society’s judgment for doing that. But at least I realize the source of this contradiction.

Western liberal feminists who praise the hijab are forgetting about the rest of us. I am terrified of a day I live in a place where covering is the law. Iraq is my home and I don’t want to leave, but sometimes I think maybe I don’t belong here especially if something like my hair can get me killed.

In every country, we need to have a larger conversation about what women say we want and what we really want. We also need to realize the broken logic of “wanting” to do something because it pleases men.

Liberal feminists: I know it is scary for you to criticize the hijab because then you have to admit some of your personal choices are actually part of your effort to serve the patriarchy. We all need to face this fact because if we don’t, we cannot get any closer to liberating ourselves.

2

This is my Frankie. She was found dead Tuesday evening, unexpectedly. She was a healthy 10 year old as far as we knew. She died under my bed where she loved to nap. I miss her so much. I’ve never been this upset about losing a pet. It just happened so suddenly. She was affectionate with my son and husband, but she was my cat. She let me hold and cry on her the nights when I was depressed and having anxiety attacks. She cuddled my belly every day when I was pregnant. She slept next to me every night. She would come when I called her name. She would lay on my chest and sniff my face in the morning. I’m so sad my son won’t remember her because she loved him before he was born and she would have been his best friend.

fem!ed/havoc happy au

@arrowsbane well i guess we’re going to just have to keep being inspired by each other. i read her amazing post HERE, which was in turn inspired by my post HERE and you don’t need to read any of these to read this, but can i just say –

holy shit. havoc/ed. what a brilliant fucking paring that i’ve never even thought of before. holy shit, it’s perfect.

so – to set the scene. trans female ed. trans ed who performed human transmutation not to bring anyone back to life (both her parents are alive, but gone, trisha was not content to be left behind this go around) but instead to give her the body she always desired. and she succeeds. she and al are still trained by izumi curtis, and this gives ed her driving passion, her goal in life – to be a housewife.

so she and al go about her adventures, dragging winry along more often than not, but they stay away from central and they always come home. and ed’s about to turn twenty, and pinako is talking to her old friend ellie, and ellie is moaning about her unmarried grandson, her grandson who refuses to inherit the general store and won’t settle down and is off in the military, of all things. he’s a bright, handsome boy, elle says, he just has his head in the wrong place.

and pinako taps her pipe and goes – you know i’ve been raising three kids right, my granddaughter and my neighbor’s kids, a boy and a girl. and ellie is surprised, she thought both elric children were boys, but she dismisses the thought easily. she remembers ed as a tomboy, of course, and with that name who can blame her. but no one’s first thought is unprecendented human transmutation when presented with someone’s who’s a different gender than the one she remembers.

ellie is like oh, is winry looking to settle down? but pinako scoffs, says she’s a career gal through and through. but her other girl, eden – she has a wandering spirit, but she’s a good girl, a lovely country bred woman who’s looking to be a housewife (ellie’s idea of housewife and ed’s idea of a housewife vary wildly, but pinako’s not about to bring that up).  so pinako sends a message to her children, and ellie sends one to her grandson: she’s sending a young woman to central from their hometown. she’s single, and looking to settle down, and the granddaughter of an old family friend.

so jean havoc gets this letter, completely and utterly horrified. the whole team makes fun of him. but grandmother eleanor rules the family with an iron fist, and havoc better come up with a damn good reason not to marry this girl. he’d not interested in a country mouse for a wife. before he can think of one, eden has already agreed and is on a train to central. she convinces al to stay behind, just for a couple of weeks, because she doesn’t want him scaring this jean havoc off.

ed is gorgeous, and a genius, and an absolute terror. she’s dated a lot of men, slept with just as many, and hasn’t found a single one worth her time. she doubts she’ll be interested in a boy from their little rural town, but pinako knows her and she trusts the old woman’s judgement. if she thinks jean havoc is someone who could make her happy, eden is more than willing to give it a shot.

so havoc has to leave early from work to meet his amost-maybe-fiance at the train. obviously, the team minus hawkeye follows him. they’re dying to know.

a country girl. they were expecting a country girl, someone wide eyed, unpolished, a little out of her depth. instead they get eden elric, a girl who’s been to cities and knows how to dress for it. they get eden elric, black boots and black leather pants and a black shirt with a dramatic red coat flaring out behind her. eden elric, golden eyes and golden hair and in the setting afternoon sun just golden. she smiles when she sees him and jean’s mouth goes dry and his heart goes zing! and havoc is going to send his grandmother some really nice flowers. “you must be jean,” she says, voice low and smoky, eyes crinkling at the corners. “you look like your father.”

“i, you,” he fumbles, holding out his hand to shake and stepping forward to take her bag at the same time. “hi.”

“hi,” she repeats, and he’s screwed, she’s already laughing at him and it hasn’t even been five minutes. “did you know you’re being followed?”

he sighs and doesn’t look behind him. “those would be my coworkers and my superior office.”

“delightful,” she says, dry and completely unimpressed, and she’s from resembool, his job and his rank is worse than useless with her, it’s a detriment. none of that crowd like the military. his mother hadn’t talked to him for over a year after he enlisted. “that won’t do. we’ll have to ditch them.”

“how?” he asks, and she grins, sharp. he takes her to his car and she shoves him in the passenger seat and climbs in the driving one, breaking about a thousand laws as she careens down crowded city streets. jean’s horrified for about thirty seconds, then he’s egging her on and cheering, directing her down roads whenever she hesitates and laughing the whole time.

they make it to where he was supposed to drop her off, beaming. “usually men throw up when they drive with me,” she says, beaming.

“nah, that wasn’t scary, it was fun,” he says, and he’s already kissed this relationship goodbye before it’s started. she’s beautiful and brave and exudes the same type of easy confidence the colonel does, and that’s not something he’ll ever be able to match. she’s no country mouse. she’s a supernova, and he’s stardust.

eden smiles at him, and says, “would you like to meet me for lunch, jean?”

havoc peers up at the building, and it’s central university. he wouldn’t have expected a country girl / wanna be housewife to be pursuing a degree, but clearly he should toss every preconceived notion he had about eden out the window, because none of them are going to be right.

“yes,” he says, because eden will make an effort with him for a while, he knows, since she’s here on the insistence of both their grandmothers. but she’ll grow tired of him eventually, like they all do, and jean intends to spend as much time with her as she can before that happens.

except it doesn’t happen. she’s kind and smart, so unbelievable smart, and dry and biting. she snores when she sleeps and get snappy when he interrupts her reading, refuses to drink milk and hates brushing her hair, so more often than not it’s up in a truly awful ponytail. he likes these things about her best, because her little imperfections, her temper and her skittering attention, the messy way she eats, all make her human. she’s flawed, and each new one havoc finds delights him, because the fact that she leaves crumbs on the counter brings her just a little closer to his level.

they keep going out. the brother shows up, and gives him one overly-firm handshake, then takes his lead from eden. she’s happy with him, so alphonse is happy with him, but he imagines the easy friendship he shares with the other man would disintegrate the second eden indicates she’s moved on from him. eden talks about her classes and the kids in them, which ones are good students and which ones aren’t, and havoc keeps meaning to ask what exactly she’s studying but it keeps slipping his mind. he listens to her talk about it for hours, but it’s all science mumbo jumbo and honestly goes in one ear and out the other. he just likes listening to her talk when she’s excited.

she follows him home about a month in, and the sex is so amazingly mind numbingly good it almost doesn’t seem real.

she comes to office one day to meet him for lunch, a first because she hates his office and his work and the impasse they’ve managed to maintain about his career is that they just don’t talk about it much. but she shows up, pretty pale pink dress and softly curled hair, looking close to the delicate country girl they all expected her to be. havoc is running late, and when he shows up it’s to eden sitting on hawkeye’s desk and laughing with the woman. it’s a terrifying experience. he didn’t know hawkeye could laugh.

but she’s around more after that, befriends hawkeye, and jean finds out that eden met catherine armstrong on campus and they’re fast friends, she spends a lot of time at the Armstrong mansion. and havoc is sure that’s it, that eden will meet strong, rich alex and their relationship will go out in flames. but it doesn’t happen, eden keeps asking to see him and he keeps saying yes.

it’s been almost a year when eleanor barks down the line, “are you going to marry this girl or not, jean?”

“i don’t know if that’s something she’s interested in,” he says, because he’s not the marrying sort, but for eden? he would be willing. he’d be a husband if it meant having eden as a wife.

his grandmother scoffs down the line, “she’s a smart girl, jean. if she’s still seeing you, she’s interested in it. she didn’t move to central to date you. the girl wants to be a housewife.”

and jean hems and haws, but the thing is he does love eden. and maybe, just maybe, eden loves him. so he goes to hawkeye for help, and she goes, “oh thank god, finally.” havoc is offended for all of two seconds before realizing that means eden’s been waiting for him to propose. yes.

he’s walking down the street with her after a movie, holding up his jacket over both of them as some sort of minimal protection from the rain. there’s a ring burning a hole in his pocket, but thanks to the torrential downpour this is not the romantic evening he intended. they see roy, and are confused for about to seconds until they see serial killer scar going to attack him. havoc yells at eden to run, and she does – right at the serial killer.

but then she does something he’s never seen her do, she claps her hand together and blue energy cracks in the air, and – she’s an alchemist?

he really should have had that conversation about what she’s studying at university.

she good, incredible good, and he knew she worked out, but he didn’t know she was combat trained. she launches a relentless alchemica/physical attack against scar that has him running away with his tail between his legs. ed’s helping roy up when jean runs up and grabs her by shoulders to shout, “you’re an alchemist!”

“what,” she blinks, “of course I am? i talk about it all the time! i know i teach the advanced theoretical alchemy seminar, but my knowledge isn’t theoretical. what kind of professor would i be if I didn’t’ test my own theories before teaching them?”

“teach,” he says faintly, “professor. right.” he’s such an idiot, eden isn’t attending central university, she’s teaching there.

she gives him an odd look, and okay, his girlfriend is way more awesome and too good for him than he previously thought, but that doesn’t change anything.

“will you marry me?” he asks. they’re sweat, rain, and blood soaked. roy has horrible gash on his side, and he thinks eden might have a broken arm. he had a speech planned, but he can’t remember it right now. “you do still want to be a housewife, right?” he knows better now, that eden will never be the traditional housewife. but he can give her a home and his name, and, oh god, kids, when she wants them. he’ll give her everything within his power to give her, if only she’ll take it.

finally,” eden and roy say at the same time, and havoc doesn’t have the time to get flustered before she’s kissing him.

and they all lived happily ever after

  • Charles introducing Erik in First Class: And this is my best friend soon-to-be-husband Erik Lehnsherr, isn't he gorgeous
  • Charles introducing Erik in DoFP: And this is my former colleague Lehnsherr, isn't he a dick
  • Charles introducing Erik in XMA: And this is Erik.
  • ~
  • Erik introducing Charles all the time: This is my only friend and if you touch him I will murder you slowly.
You, in your white t-shirt,
your elegant smile, 
and your deep dimples,
and your brown eyes,
hotter than the sun.
My summer paradise is really made of all 
these things. 
Your tan skin, 
and childish angels, 
wet kisses and watermelon baths. 
My summer paradise is you running 
after me in a field of white flowers,
under the azul sky
and butterflies in my belly. 
Your playful hands and the French music 
in your car, driving all over the city.
You say; mon ami
all eyes on me.
And you are my summer paradise. 
Pink sunglasses and diamond rings, 
we re-new our I love you’s and 
I let my hair grow long for you. 
Kisses on my cheek from kids,
and picking flowers for you.
I promise I will become your summer paradise.
You love me in a sweatshirt 
when my eyes are full of soft rain.
You buy me chocolate
and walk me down the beach at sunset. 
You collect the prettiest rocks for me, 
and you are my best friend. 
My summer paradise is writing you 
love letters. 
Your small prayers, you say
when my head is on your chest. 
God have put all the paradises and all the summers in you, my darling.
—  Summertime Paradise by Royla Asghar 
Can We Pretend: Part 1

Author: @sincerelystiles
Pairing: Stiles x Reader
Word Count: 2,783

Warnings: public sin ;)

A/N: i wasn’t too sure about writing or posting this at first, but after thinking it over multiple times, i decided to just do it. thankyou so much to my baby @dylanobsessed for encouraging me that this was a good. i hope that by putting this out to you guys in such a way, will make you more aware of someone’s true intentions with you.

Originally posted by sensualkisses


Parties had never been my thing. The idea of being almost suffocated by intoxicated bodies never really tickled my fancy. But, this was Lydia’s party and God knows she’d have my head on a stick if I didn’t attend. It was only an hour in, and I had already drunk more than intended.

You see, I hardly drink. Being seventeen and best friends with the “popular girl” would make you believe that I party and drink all the time. But I don’t. However, when I do occasionally drink, you’d think I was a forty year old alcoholic who’s husband and kids just left with his secretary.

Keep reading

Alright kids buckle up this is gonna be a long one

Viktor owns a dacha that he inherited from his family that’s way out in the middle of Butt Fuck, Russia on the shore of a lake the name of which Yuuri cannot pronounce. 

Yuuri finds out about the dacha because the key to the place is an actual skeleton key and Yuuri asked about it while holding Viktor’s keys for him one day.

“Oh, that’s just the dacha,” Viktor took the key and spun it around in his fingers, contemplative. “I haven’t been there in years, not since the deed was put in my name. Maybe I’ll take you there someday.”

Keep reading

HOW HOTWIFE STARTED

 I am a Hotwife. My husband and I are very much in love. We have a great, honest, open and trusting relationship and we are best friends. He is amazing and I respect him deeply. It just so happens that we both like it when I get fucked by other people. My husband is NOT a cuckold. He enjoys watching me or hear stories about me fucking others. I enjoy getting fucked. It’s nice when things work out like that, huh? For many of you I’m sure your heads are spinning and you are passing judgements as fast as they can come of of your mouth. Stop right there! You don’t know me, my husband or anything about us. We are very normal people. We have kids and a very hectic life. My husband and I both have great jobs and we NEVER share this part of our life with the people around us. To all our friends we are just two people in love who like to travel a lot.

We have been married for a number of years. We are more in love today than ever. As many couples know after a few years the magic wears off and the wild and crazy sex tends to get fewer and farther between. Face it, at some point you’d done it all, right? WRONG! One night while having sex and watching porn my husband made a comment about how good the girl looked getting fucked by that big cock. I happened to blurt out something about me looking good with that cock in me too. My husband exploded inside me about 2 seconds after that. He said it was the best orgasm he had had in a while. That was it. Nothing was said about it and frankly I never really gave it another thought. Hubby on the other hand was still thinking about it. The idea stuck in his head and he didn’t know what to do about it. Was he crazy? Why would a man want to see his wife get fucked by another COCK! Still, he could not shake the idea. Next time we watched that video his comments started a little earlier and were a little dirtier and more nasty. That is when I first got the idea he was serious about this. 😉

After sex I asked him about it. Was he serious or was it just him talking dirty. At first he was shy. The man who 10 minutes earlier was fucking my ass and telling me he wished that BBC was deep in my cunt fucking me so he could feel it in me was suddenly shy about it. Heat of the moment, things get said, I get it but this was more than that. This was something I could tell he wanted to happen (ME TOO) Shhhhh….😉 Why, what, how, who? All great questions running through my head. Did my husband not love me anymore? Did he just want to fuck other women and he thought this was his best chance? At that point I had never heard of a Hotwife or a Bull. I did not know anything about this world I was about to become a part of or what was ahead of me. Frankly I was a little scared but excited😉 Was this the end of my marriage? Turns out…NO! It was the beginning of the best chapter of our lives. I just wish we had figured this out sooner.

The question I think you are asking now is what is your Normal day like? Do you and your husband still have normal sex? Has anything changed between you two? The answer is, we are great. I love and respect him more today than ever. We have great sex and he pleasures me endlessly. Our dirty talk might be a little more dirty than yours but we still have normal sex all the time. BTW, I hate the world normal. What is normal anyways? What we do is normal to us. What you do is not normal to us. Once you stop trying to make the world revolve around your idea of normal you might just find out you have a lot of  new things to try! GET OUT THERE AND LIVE LIFE!!!💦🍻💦


#THEREAL

💦🍻😈

Animal Crossing Starters:
  • “I figured you must be blackmailing that poor girl to have lunch with you.”
  • “I think it’s fair to say that I’m pretty sexy.”
  • “I don’t want to live in a world where I have to eat sugar free sugar cookies.”
  • “I remembered today was your birthday so I thought I’d say hi.”
  • “You have nothing to lose except your lonely loser status.”
  • “Shut it, you faker!”
  • “I sure am tired from all that relaxing I did today.”
  • “Then I can spend my entire allowance on comic books and video games and no one can stop me.”
  • “When you listen to pop music, you often hear them saying ‘shawty.’”
  • “[NAME] made fun of me because I say 'poot’ all the time.”
  • “I waited and waited because I really wanted to see you.”
  • “Tell papa/mama what’s up.”
  • “It hurts my face just looking at you.”
  • “Marry me.”
  • “I look forward to seeing what you’re gonna do with my butt.”
  • “A trash bin..? Is this a clue to your true identity?”
  • “I’m beautiful, but I’m also deadly.”
  • “I hope you go to jail.”
  • “What did you do to my body?”
  • “Stick to chocolate and comic books. You’re too young for love anyway.”
  • “I’m sorry.. please don’t be too mad at me.”
  • “I have a big favor to ask you.”
  • “Maybe I’ll just go home and lock myself in a closet.”
  • “I gotta admit, I really love that one show where all those people do the stuff and then something happens.”
  • “Here, touch my skin. It’s totally slimy right now.”
  • “I probably look in the mirror 24 times a day just to be sure I’m still so darned handsome/beautiful.”
  • “Guess what I’ve got in my pockets right now.”
  • “Better not catch you making goo-goo eyes at my wife/husband.”
  • “No one understands me. I’m hungry all the time and no one cares.”
  • “Are you suggesting my style is outdated?”
  • “Don’t play with stink bugs, especially when you’ve got a date coming up.”
  • “They don’t even care who wins. They just all flex their pecs.”
  • “Love means accepting that there will be times when you don’t get the last scallop.”
  • “Yeah exercise is totally hard and stuff. I think I’m gonna go take a nap and read a book or whatever.”
  • “Today was the day my best friend in the whole wide world was born.”
  • “Whoa you look so weird. And not weird in a hip way. More like 'weird’ as in 'makes me want to barf.’”
  • “End my suffering.”
  • “Not to sound corny but I really like you.”
  • “I wonder how I can say 'swaggy ’ in the most grown up way possible.”
  • “Just because two people are good friends doesn’t mean they’d make a good couple.”
  • “Sorry, I was staring at your face because I don’t know you. Not because there’s something wrong with your face.”
  • “Would it surprise you if I said I’m pretty proud of my legs?”
  • “The truth is never free.. but sometimes it’s on sale.”
  • “I hear the sound of rap coming from somewhere.”
  • “They tell you to sleep on a problem. But what if your problem is insomnia?”
  • “I’ll just observe your friends from the shadows.”
  • “I heard allergies are caused by the government.”
  • “Watch out, 'cause I’ll compliment you until you puke.”
  • “So D.I.Y. stands for 'do it yourself’? Well, if these guys think I’m going to do my own manual labor, they’ve got another acronym coming.”
  • “I can smell your confidence. Smells like soup.”
  • “I’m gay.”
  • “You’re my hero.”
  • “Please don’t call on me.”
  • “I think I dropped my house key somewhere. That was my favorite key… it opened my house.”
  • “Do you want to hear the brutal truth? That outfit is a hot mess.”
  • “Oh, I get it! You’re playing it cool. Trying your best not to cry.”
A woman I used to take care of would stay in her pajamas and watch Rachel Ray in the morning. English breakfast tea with just enough milk to make it light. She’d make jokes about staying dangerous when buying a spontaneous extra can of cream of mushroom soup. Some of us never lose our jokes.
 
My best friend closes her eyes when the summer wind runs its fingers through her hair. She inhales deep, like she’s about to dive down into the sun. It is something special to watch someone fall in love with the world.
 
My husband keeps an art gallery of growing greens. There are wildflowers on the windowsill and succulents by the back door. He tells me the snap peas are almost ready to harvest; that he can’t wait to show our kids how the earth works, how good things require care.
 
In small glimpses, I am stealing snapshots of people in their purest moments. I am pasting moments over. I am scrap-booking the good in humanity, the little visions of light, and saving it when everything else goes dark.
—  Schuyler Peck, The People I Know

anonymous asked:

"... and to my soon to be husband, thank you for supporting me through this new experience. Thank you for showing me how much you believe in my capabilities by reassuring me during every step of the way. Thank you for being my best friend, my lover and my number one fan since I was sixteen. I love you."

Business and Pleasure - Part 13

Summary:  Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.

Word Count: 1,413

Warnings: Swearing


Originally posted by naih-reedus


“Y/N Barnes?” the nurse’s voice, however kind it may have seemed to everyone else in the room, sent shivers down your spine. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t want to be here. In fact, you could think of several places you’d rather be at the moment, but you tried to keep a neutral expression as you stood.

“Do you want me to come in with you? Or I can just wait out here. Whichever you’d prefer.” Steve asked, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Nodding, you squeezed back tightly, “Please. I feel like I’m either going to puke. Or pass out. Maybe both. I don’t really know.”


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Wedding Bells - HS Imagine

A/N - I have been trying to post this for several says now and it just wouldn’t load so I hope this goes up. 

(Based on Harry blessing us with Hawaii)


You sat with Glenne and Jeff at one of the many tables at brunch. You were all in Hawaii for the wedding of a mutual friend of their and Harry’s and you being Harry’s girlfriend – well, now, fiancé, attended as his plus one. You thought back to last night, remembering all that had taken place.


The ceremony was beautiful. Harry had decided to of course wearing one of his dad shirts claiming, ‘We’re in Hawaii, love, course ‘m gonna wear this shirt,’ as he sassily pulled his white jacket over top of it. You had asked Harry what to wear since you didn’t know anyone apart from him, Glenne, and Jeff, and he told you to wear whatever you wanted because, ‘you’d look beautiful in whatever you wore, love,’ he shrugged with a loving smile. So, once you were satisfied with how your hair and makeup looked, you guys were off.

And here you were, wondering when you would get married…wondering if Harry wanted to get married. After the ceremony the reception had kicked off – various people sat at tables while the bride and groom had their first dance. Harry introduced you to everyone later, as his ‘lovely girlfriend,’ but what rubbed you the wrong way was when he winked at Jeff after saying it. Knowing he had a glad of champagne prior, you shook it off and chatted with Glenne as the dance ended. The announcement was then made for all of the single women to try and catch the bouquet. You froze, feeling awkward – you didn’t know the bride and groom, so you chose not to participate.

“You’re not going up there love?” your boyfriend’s sweet voice asked. You looked at him, shaking your head no with an uncomfortable smile. He seemed kind of disappointed.

“Come on, y/n have a little fun,” Glenne encouraged you and grabbed you by the hand dragging you to the dance floor. She ran off before you could question why she did it. The bride strangely made eye contact with you, nodding to herself as she turned around to fling the handful of flowers past her head. Funny enough, they came soaring straight towards you, as you reached out and caught them. Everyone cheered, and you looked over to Harry knowing the meaning of catching the bride’s bouquet.

There he sat, acting like that Kermit the frog meme, sipping his tea (which was really champagne) like it was none of his business, but the smirk on his face behind his glass said otherwise. Awkwardly, you stalked back over to your seat and sat staring at the table, not knowing what to say. They started playing music for the guests to dance to as you and your group of four made your way to the dance floor. Harry had brought the flowers with him, showing them off as he danced, pretending to throw them at Jeff.


 When all of the festivities were over, the four of you headed back to the hotel. You all walked towards the front doors of the hotel, and had almost reached the giant fountain in the middle of the pavement, but you noticed everyone else’s footsteps had stopped. You came to a halt as soon as you realized they weren’t trailing behind you anymore. You turned around slowly, and the confused look on your face caused Harry to turn to his manager/dear friend smirking and raising his eyebrows, with an arm behind his back – keeping something out of your eyesight. They were speaking some sort of language that you didn’t understand – they knew something that you didn’t.

“Guys, what is going on?” you laughed at their boyish behavior. Harry stepped out in front of them, and made his way towards you slowly and revealed the bouquet behind his back.

“I think you forgot something when we left, love,” he smiled cheekily.

“Harry, where are you going with this?” you shifted from one foot to the other wondering what could possibly be running through that gorgeous head of his. You stared at him amused at the fascination he seemed to have with an arrangement of flowers.

“Here,” he outstretched them towards you, nodding for you to take them. You grasped them slowly, still staring at him unknowingly.

“You know what catching ‘em means, don’t you?”

“Yes, Harry…I know what it means,” you smiled cheekily at him. But your face grew serious when you realized what those flowers had meant. Why the bride had thrown them right to you.

“Oh my god,” you clasped your hand over your mouth, tears forming in your eyes as Harry knelt down on one knee, right there in front of the hotel fountain. You tried not to cry until he got the words out, and he seemed to notice.

“Haven’t even asked you yet, love,” he shook his head with his dimples popping promptly into place as he let out an affectionate laugh at your reaction.

“Shut up,” you laughed as you tried to contain yourself. Your laughter caused a sweet chuckle to rumble from his own chest. He took a deep breath before starting to speak.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he slowly pulled the little velvet box from his jacket pocket, opening it as he continued to speak, “you’re not only my best friend, nor my girlfriend, you’re the love of my life. I want to spend the rest of my nights how we did tonight – with each other, dancing, laughing, holding one another, whatever you want. And I want to spend the rest of my days as your husband. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

By the time he had finished his sentiment, he was getting choked up himself.

“Yes,” you nodded enthusiastically. He smiled tearfully as he gently took your hand in his, sliding the ring onto your finger. He quickly brought your hand to his lips pressing a tight kiss to your knuckle before standing up and kissing you properly, picking you up and swinging you around like a cliché scene you had watched in one of his favorite romantic comedies. After placing you on your feet, he peppered kisses all over your face until you couldn’t contain that cute little laugh he loved so much that bubbled in your chest. When you had finally calmed down and Harry had been sweet enough to wipe away any leftover tears, you turned your heads back to Glenne and Jeff. Glenne was holding Harry’s phone and was clearly taking a video, by the guilty look on her face.

“You little shits were in on this,” you shake your head laughing. Harry laughs and goes to retrieve his phone. Once he’s placed it back in his pocket, Glenne and Jeff walk past the two of you, going up to their hotel room.

“Yes, yes we were,” Jeff chuckles nodding nonchalauntly.

You watch them walk away and make their entry into the hotel lobby, shocked by the epiphany that has just set itself off in your brain. The fact Harry winked at Jeff when he said ‘girlfriend,’ the fact the bride literally threw the bouquet directly to you, and the fact that Jeff and his girlfriend had waited for you guys while Harry proposed so they could get the video. You go to respond to their cleverness, but you’re interrupted by your lovely fiance’s voice, as he brushes your hair off your shoulder from his stance behind you, his other arm snaking around your waist. He kisses your neck once before his lips brush against your ear.

“Why don’t you forget about them,” he whispers, “and go back to your hotel room with your fiancé so that he can get you out of that damn dress.” Your body went rigid but filled with excitement. You said nothing and didn’t turn to look at him. Smiling to yourself, you simply grabbed the arm that was wrapped around you and started walking him towards the door.


You snapped back to the present when your eyes scanned the grass for Harry and found the sight before you. He was playing with the little girl he had met at the reception last night, ‘booping’ her nose, scurrying away on his bare feet before she could catch him, his champagne flute in hand.

  You decided right there and then, that you were going to tell Harry that you found out that morning that you were pregnant - obviously not from the previous night. 

Handled

Drabble Prompt: “Can you struggle a little? I feel like you’re taking this way too calmly and I’m worried.“

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Requested by: @torn-and-frayed


“Happy Birthday, sexy!” Your boyfriend exclaims when he saunters into your best friend’s house.

“Thanks, sexy!” You sass jumping up, wrapping your arms and legs around the insanely gorgeous man.

“You made it.” You whisper into his ear sounding muffled.

“Of course I made it, gorgeous. I would never miss this.” He whispers back leaning his forehead on yours.

“Ok ok. There’s other people here, you fuckers!” Jared cracks making you bury your face into Jensen’s neck, trying to hide flushed cheeks.

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12x10 - “Pterodactyl Screeching into the void” - Part 1

My title is borrowed from @postmodernmulticoloredcloak comment on my crazy blogging after first watching this episode earlier. I feel like it is a fitting title for how this episode made me feel. To clarify, these are very very happy pterodactyls.

Steve Yokey wrote this episode and he appears to have well and truly taken up the gap left when Robbie Thompson sadly left the show. In fact this episode to me channels the ghost of Robbie in many different ways. From the fanfiction-esque moments of poor suffering third wheel Sam, to the meta nod to Charlie Bradbury, there is much of Robbie to be found here. Basically, it was bloody perfect.

I feel like there is so much to talk about in this episode that fandom will be chewing on it for months if not years to come. Yokey has picked up the characterisations brilliantly, and seems to have an understanding of what the fandom desperately craves in terms of Castiel, his character, his personality and his development. I adored his sass in this episode. Some other writers *cough*bucklemming*cough* struggle to really capture Castiel’s sass and humour. Showing their lack of understanding of Castiel’s persona and his intelligence and instead writing him in a way that is jarring and sometimes basically stupid. Castiel is far from stupid. In this episode he was written perfectly, in a way I haven’t seen since Edlund’s time. Is that a sweeping statement? Maybe. But I’m still riding my high so let me have it this time.

This episode gave us three of my favourite things. Badass and Sassy Castiel, Overprotective grumpy husband Dean, and poor long suffering brother Sam. (baring in mind this is how they are usually written in fanfiction nowadays this is exactly my jam and I am so so happy to see it play out on screen. Seriously who sold their soul to Crowley for this episode?)

This review will also be in two parts. Because I have so freaking much to say about it.

The first part will focus on destiel, the second on everything else including Castiel’s emotional arc (as separate from destiel), his relationships with angels, angels and gender and Lily Sunder’s character.

PART 1 - ALL THE DESTIEL

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