the whole story

A friend of mine asked me recently for a quick summary of what my son has been through. He wanted to know a little backstory on our life with him and before him and his diagnosis and prognosis and all that. I sat down and ran through the list. Then I ended up writing something I should have written a long time ago.

Jess and I met at her brother John’s wedding in June of 1999. I was with the other groomsmen, setting up chairs. The door to the sanctuary blew open and I saw my future wife standing outside in the parking lot. Not thinking, I quickly slammed the door, turned to her brother, and yelled, “There’s a beautiful girl outside!” All the groomsmen ran to look. Then John sighed deeply and said, “That’s my sister.”

I spent the rest of the day trying to get her attention. I stuck grapes in my cheeks and acted like a monkey. You know, stuff like that is tough to resist. When that didn’t work, I wrote my number on a piece of paper tablecloth, ripped it off, and gave it to her mother.

My job was lighting the floating candles on the banquet tables. I would pick one up and touch the flame to the wick, and drop the candle in the jar of water, and Jess followed behind me, lighting the floating candles again. She’s been cleaning up my messes ever since.

After five years and two healthy daughters, life was looking pretty rosy. We decided to go for one more child, and might have had more if Fin hadn’t been such a surprise. And boy, what a surprise. His birth was difficult, he was huge, and after a lot of pushing, Jess had an emergency c-section. I was allowed to peer over the curtain and see my only son. I cut the umbilical cord. Then they took him to the NICU and we went back to our room and had supper, all smiles.

In the middle of our dinner of hospital pork chops, a doctor came to visit and said our son was not breathing so well. He said they gave him oxygen and C-PAP, and we’d hope for the best. We put down our forks. He was just born an hour ago, and now we were hoping for the best? What did that mean?

The next week was not easy. He got worse. He was put on a ventilator. He ended up on an oscillator. There was a feeding tube down his nose. They shaved part of his head and put in an IV. We got to hold him every now and then, but there were all these tubes. We smiled and put on our bravest faces. Then there was the family meeting. After a month of trying to wean him from the ventilator, he was not tolerating it, and the doctors were out of ideas. We were sent to Portland and a new team of doctors would weigh in with their opinions.

They immediately had things they wanted to try, and he had surgery to close a vessel between his heart and lungs. It worked, and the next day, he was looking like a different kid. Then he coughed just right and the device they put in place popped out. They had to do the procedure all over again. We spent the first surgery nervously tapping our feet and learning how to play Sudoku. We spent the second surgery in the bar.

For five weeks, we stayed with my in-laws in Portland. For five weeks, I was out of work. They made me sign FMLA paperwork and saved my job. Fin got better and better. He was weaned off oxygen successfully and prepped to go home. The day before we were scheduled to return to Bangor, we stopped in his room to see him back on oxygen. We asked what was happening. The nurse said she had a theory; he didn’t need the oxygen, he needed the flow. She couldn’t explain it. But it turned out, she was absolutely right.

However, pursuing that thought was put on hold. On New Year’s Day in 2010, Fin woke up screaming. My son hadn’t made much of a sound up until that point. Months of being intubated had left him with very little voice. But that morning, his cry was loud and clear. We picked him up and found a diaper full of blood. We rushed him to the hospital and he stayed there for a long time. They diagnosed him with ulcerative colitis, but he also had RSV. He was put back on a ventilator. Then back on an oscillator. We were right back to the day he was born.

Slowly, his systems started shutting down. His lungs, his heart, his kidneys were all affected. RSV was ravaging his already sick body. Then the doctors found that air was trapped in his abdomen, and it was not supposed to be there. They rushed him to the OR for emergency exploratory surgery. He had a perforated bowel and the equivalent of a bowel movement in his abdominal cavity. The doctors told us they could take out his entire small intestine and leave him a short gut kid, or we could sew him back up and let him go peacefully. We were all for the latter. But our pastor and pediatrician were in the room, and I could not make that decision with a good conscience. I said if there was a chance, we had to take it.

I didn’t have to make a choice. Half an hour later, the doctor came out and told us that the pieces of intestine he’d given up on completely had turned pink again. He only had to take the bad stuff, and then give him an ileostomy, and Fin would be okay. After calling everyone in the family and telling them Fin wouldn’t make it through the night, we called back and told everyone about the miracle. Fin would pull through.

And he did. He got better and better. We took him home and fed him intravenously and changed his sterile dressings in our kitchen. He got bigger and stronger. Eventually, he was able to lose the bag that collected poop right above his belly button. His colon was reconnected. Things were looking up. Until he got sick again. We noticed that although he was sleeping and his chest would rise and fall, he was not moving air. After a few nights of this, he turned blue, and stopped breathing. We rushed him to the hospital again. And again, they told us, they had to start over. We were back to square one.

Finally, at eleven months of age, they discovered something. His airway, which they knew was floppy from looking down on it from the top, was scoped with a camera and a light. It was completely flat. In fact, it was nearly nonexistent. How the kid was able to breathe at all was impossible to tell. But he had done it. He’d done it for a year. The roomful of doctors saw pictures of his airway on the screen and all gasped. We were sent back to our room with a diagnosis of severe tracheobronchomalacia. His airway was floppy and weak all the way down into his lungs. Everyone who had taken care of Fin apologized up and down. They didn’t know how they missed it. We said it was okay; survival had been number one. But, we asked, what next?

No one knew. We found ourselves in Boston. The doctors there determined that Fin should have a tracheostomy. For five weeks, Jess stayed with him in the hospital, and I traveled back and forth with the girls. For five weeks, Fin was unconscious on drugs, a hole in his stomach so he could eat, and a hole in his throat so he could breathe.

And he has thrived. He’s grown. He’s found his voice, and then some. He’s gone on road trips with us, charming people everywhere. He’s been to Disney World twice. And he’s been through Pre-K and kindergarten. He’s gotten sick a few times, but nothing too scary. He sees a specialist for every major system and they make adjustments as necessary. When we think back on what he’s been through, it seems like an unfair lifetime of problems for one little boy, but he’s managed to survive. I think back on that nurse who told us he didn’t need oxygen, he needed flow. She was right. The vent gives him the flow and the pressure to keep his airway open. Her name was Posey, and I think of her every time I look at Fin’s trach ties, which are made by a company called Posey, and it says so right on the back of his neck. They told us that with tracheobroncomalacia, the first year would be the hardest. Boy, were they right.


requested by its-pineapple-me

You could barely breathe and your heart was racing. Pietro was in front of you instantly, “Hey, hey, you’re okay,” He panicked, “Nothing can hurt you and nothing will hurt you, okay? Just breathe, (y/n). Deep breaths, there we go. It’s okay,” He bundled you in his arms, one hand rubbing your back soothingly, “You’re okay. I’ll protect you.”

Has anyone else paid attention to how much Hawlucha has changed since its debut? In the episode it was captured in it didn’t smile even once, it didn’t seem excited about mastering Flying Press, nor about joining Ash really.

To this it responds with a simple nod like “Kay”. And the same goes for the rest of the episode, Hawlucha just seems kind of awkward and even while deciding to join Ash it feels more like “I guess I’ll roll with this guy he seems okay”.

Compare that to

Hawlucha is excited about the challenge, looks pleased after a success and even charges to hug Ash after the battle. Now of course this kind of change in interaction is natural after them getting closer over time, but I’d like to think that its time with Ash and the rest of the team has had a positive effect on Hawlucha’s life and made it a much happier person in general. Even its voice has changed somewhat, having a bordlerline goofy tone at times.

tattoobird asked:

Okay, I gotta ask. I just recently started following you and am so confused. What is this "It's not gay if he's dead thing" that seems to surround the Danny Phantom posts you reblog? I feel so outside the loop but laugh at nearly every one that passes by my dash. Mind clearing it up? lol

Haha oh jeez, okay. I’m gonna assume you’re at least somewhat familiar with the show. If not, oops! Sorry, I’ll try and keep it simple at least. 

So one of the big name writers in the phandom (as the DP fandom is called by the phans because shut up we’re adorable) is the lovely phantomrose96, aka Chrissy. She’s a fantastic writer, and excels at tragic fic. Serioiusly, check out this archive. There’s oodles of stories where Sad Things Happen. It’s pretty much exclusively what she’s known best for!

Until she made a mistake.

kinqdanny posted a joke what-if to the tag, of Dash (the bully) having a crush on Phantom while still happily treating Danny  (same person) like shit all the while, and then it spiraled into his whole high school crushing on Phantom, and then Chrissy struck with a bit of add-on phic. The opening line?

“It’s not gay if he’s dead.”

This beautiful disaster coupled with a lot of other big name people being mutuals with her coupled with the phandom’s absolutely crippling love of bad jokes = memetic status literally overnight. It didn’t help her birthday was this week too (which she foolishly reminded us of!!), so people everywhere had a readymade excuse to meme the hell out of her.

Basically, shit’s hilarious and nobody’s gonna let Chrissy live it down.

george devalier headcanons

Gilbert lives.
Vash accepts Roderich and Gilbert’s relationship.
Tino and Berwald find each other.
Mathias and Lukas make it out okay.
Sadik moves on for the better.
Yao realizes he deserves better, and Ivan learns to accept it.
Feliks and Toris are reunited.
Eduard is there for Raivis when the lights go on again.
Lili and Elizaveta live a long and happy life together.
Kiku and Heracles are doing well wherever they are.
Francis and Matthew are able to bond without a war in the way.
Roma lets his grandsons be themselves, and is proud of who they’ve become.
Lovino finally tells Antonio he loves him.

George deValier is happy. 


“…Adding silver to cut flowers makes them stay fresh for longer.”

“Sorry,” Ibushi says ruefully, “but my element is actually wind.”

Fic: Reminders of Her

A/N: for kiki’s post ep fic fest and from my own prompt that I made up after this episode aired: [A short end tag type of thing. Remembering how Annie inspired him last year, he runs into her and asked her if she has a pencil. She hands him two purple mechanical pencils and he leaves one on his office desk and one in his actual classroom as a reminder to not slack off and actually work to teach his students.] and based off my headcanon that the desk we see in the new opening sequence is Jeff’s desk. Also in the 609 tag we see him at his desk presumably grading papers so that plays into this too. 

Thanks to thecloseryoulook-thelessyousee for the beta. 

word count: 778. 


This needs to stop.

It never ceases to surprise Jeff how Anni-esque his internal voice sounds.

You need to start taking your teaching seriously again and put some effort into it. Stop being lazy. Think of your students. Stop fooling around in class. Even if it’s a blow-off, make it count like your own blow-off classes in the past.

The little Annie voice refuses to let up despite Jeff’s efforts to banish it. Okay, so maybe he is feeling a bit guilty over his noncommittal treatment of his students, and his lack of effort in preparing his curriculum and so forth, but it’s not like any other Greendale teachers strive to make any effort either. In fact, there’s only one teacher he can recall who gave a rat’s ass and it was Professor Kane.

Not even Duncan or Chang or Professor Whitman put as much work into their classes as that man did. Not even the Dean really seems to care, so again he’s wondering why this little Annie-voice continues to niggle at him.

Annie isn’t even in his class anymore why is this even mattering to him? Or bothering him? He puts it down to basic human decency but ever since he nearly lost Annie (and the group) to the world outside the school, his zest for life has faded. He can’t lose Annie or the group again, but he just feels they’ve outgrown him anyway so why put in work for losers who don’t even truly care for him?

Jeff’s so lost in his own thoughts he doesn’t see Annie right in front of him until the last moment. He puts on the brakes, stopping himself from running her over.

Annie’s on her way to her forensics class, he can tell by what she is wearing: jeans, a simple blue sweater, and a determined expression, and a handful of (purple) mechanical pencils and carrying a notebook.

“Oh, hey Jeff,” she greets him. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, you know, nothing much, wandering the hallowed halls of Greendale,” Jeff cracks wise.

Annie raises her eyebrow at him.

“Are you looking for someone? Jeff, you’re acting weird.”

“No I’m not,” Jeff grumbles. “And, okay, maybe I was just very accidentally looking for you.”

“Jeff, why do you need my help?” Annie says, her tone suspicious with a bit of flirty mixed in.

He falls into step alongside her as he explains.

“I just… I dunno, Annie, I can’t get invested in my students right now.”

Annie gives him a hard stare.

“Jeff, I’m not taking your class again to prompt you into doing your work,” she says, squashing his hopes of spending more time with her. “You’re on your own now, you’re a big boy you can do it.”

“Annie, my class is a blow-off. It’s always been a blow-off. However, my students don’t have life-changing experiences in it because I’m no Professor Whitman and my life currently sucks. I don’t even want to grade papers.”

Annie lets out an irritated sigh. She stops in the middle of the hallway as students swirl around them in the rivers of life, handing him two of her purple mechanical pencils. 

Keep reading

Imagine Kaneki being one of those kids who would always get lost in the hallways and one day Hide found him crying in a corner and from that day on Hide followed him everywhere. And even when they were older he would still pay close attention to wherever Kaneki goes so that he could always go looking for him if he ever ended up taking too long. 


“Spend time with a baby? You must be joking!” scoffed Iain, speaking down a grainy phone line from the 1970s, where he apparently seems to live. “Dads don’t want to be spending time with their children and bonding and forming a relationship, that’s what women are built for, you know. No, the way I see it, all a dad needs is to be working, remote, emotionally detached, occasionally violent and willing to buy the sprog a pint when it turns 21.”

“Except if it’s a girl, obviously.” he added, the phone line crackling again. “Then the mum would buy her some needlework or something. Look, I’ve got to go, there’s a strike on, you know.”

(with many thanks to Ashles3000 over on Twitter for this one)

anonymous asked:

I really need some davekat sadstuck. <3


they beat the game. alternia and earth are both reset to be ideal places for them to live. the god tiers are still god tier- dave still has his powers. karkat goes home basically empty handed.

dave spends years trying to get ahold of the trolls. he doesnt stop, doesnt slow down, because hes terrified if he does hell stop altogether. its exhausting work but karkat was his closest friend and he has to know if hes okay.

he finally gets a signal, finally fucking hears back from one of the trolls, and when he asks about karkat it gets quiet for a very long time.

and finally, a single message followed by a block to his user.

karkat tried to get ahold of you but he was culled for his blood over a sweep ago.


Remember when S1 ended with “Vide Cor Meum” from Dante’s La Vita Nuova?

Well, La Vita Nuova is a book consisting of poems concerning Dante’s idyllic love for Beatrice. Beatrice to Dante…is everything that is pure and righteous in a person. Dante puts Beatrice on this pedestal that no other human can achieve, because to Dante no other person can move him spiritually nor fulfill him physically. But its an unrequited love. Beatrice and Dante met very briefly once and Beatrice never saw him again. Obviously things are a bit (okay more than a bit) different with Hannibal and Will but the basic premise is the same.  

To Hannibal, Will is his Beatrice. And here is why:

Immediately, he can see and witness that Will’s purity and the righteousness that he utilizes while working on cases with the FBI is something unique. A gift. That integrity and keen sense what is right and wrong allows Will to see clearly what the motives and symbolism behind the murders are. Will is someone who can see the world Hannibal lives in for what it is. Hannibal picks up on this and realizes that he has found someone with whom he can pour his passions to. He wants to create a setting for Will. He doesn’t have to hide. He wants Will to see him and yet he wants to see Will fall while he does this. Why?

Will Graham is his antithesis.

What would take a good soul like Will’s to fall to my level? Hannibal is presented with a perfect opportunity to experiment firsthand. All the clues, all the signs, all the words, and time that Hannibal will leave behind will be seen by Will. So Will, of course, inevitably figures this out as we all know and we all see the unfortunate happenings as a result of this. But it’s only the beginning. Hannibal wasn’t done yet. Isn’t done yet. We witness the visceral reaction (x) Hannibal has to Will during the S1 ending. This has gone far beyond mere simple curiosities to a deep yearning. 

And thinking of her, sweet sleep overcame me.
I am your Master. See your heart.
And of this burning heart, your heart,
She trembling, humbly eats.
Weeping, I saw him then depart from me.
Joy is converted to bitterest tears.

This prose in particular is fitting to the setting (although it twists the meaning behind the words) because now we know that Hannibal is up to no good. Bad boy Hannibal is finally out to play. He has steadily lead Will to the gate of Hell with cleverly veiled half-truths only to push him into Acheron himself.

Through me you pass into eternal pain:
Through me among the people lost for aye. ||
Canto III, Inferno.

Hannibal is flawlessly conducting the tragic aria of Will’s fall from grace. And Will’s vita nuova is him grievously realizing that Hannibal has forcibly taken him into Hell with no foreseeable way out.

Hannibal has thus far impeccably paved the way to create his own Divine Comedy. Because traditionally, Beatrice guides Dante through Heaven. Dante has to make the arduous journey from the pits of Hell, climb through Purgatory to then be received by Beatrice before entering Heaven. But there’s no way Hannibal is going to heaven and he realizes that, but he craves to have that companionship with his muse within the bowels of Hell and so we witness his craft in the demise of Will Graham. This isn’t about love, this is about corruption.

This trailer begins with Hannibal reciting Dante’s first sonnet from La Vita Nuova:

Allegro mi sembrava Amor tenendo
Meo core in mano, e ne le braccia avea
Madonna involta in un drappo dormendo.

Joyous appeared he in his hand to keep
my very heart, and, lying on his breast,
my lady, veil-enwrapped and full asleep.    

As per usual, here he tells everyone cleverly of his crimes with no one the wiser yada yada he’s done this before, this isn’t new. Oh but now everything is different. Now he knows that Will is awake and that this will push Will into action. Will Graham will fight him, but will not compromise his morality by doing so. 

And that is what Hannibal wants. 

So long as Hannibal runs and hides, Will is going to give chase and search. This is now a game of touch and go, cat and mouse, and Hannibal loves it.

That stagnancy of life is no more, the predictability of humans, no more. Things are no longer easy, no longer quaint. And only Will can provide that for him. Has provided that. And exactly like Beatrice, Will fulfills him and provides constant inspiration. Just as muses are supposed to envoke.

Except instead of heaven, instead of the normalcy of these ‘earthly plains’, it is an inferno. Hell on earth.  And in the very center of Hell, we see the Divine Comedy’s Satan, whom is also depicted in this trailer. 

Mads Mikkelsen compared Hannibal to Satan from Paradise Lost. Oh no, no no no. Hannibal doesn’t even pretend to play God. That is not Hannibal’s modus operandi. He embraces the humanities, the arts, culture, you name it. The ability to cause destruction, wrath, is something humans have done for so long historically anyways.

Dante is the you and me, the everyday person that has flaws and sins that learns through Virgil and Beatrice to surpass them. This Dante strives to be allowed entrance into Heaven and be alongside Beatrice

Hannibal Lector however, is the Dante that embodies sin, vice and indulgence. And he indulges his compulsion by violating Will in the cruelest way possible. By forcing Will’s hands to do something so macabre it will damn his already damaged soul into remaining in Hell for the rest of eternity. Into the very same Hell he himself situates in.

Kiss and Makeup // Luke Hemmings

Request: Can you do a Ross imagine where it’s fight and make up sex?/Okay, could you do it Luke then?

♡ ♡ ♡

Your skin boil underneath its surface, the tension rises to the top as you stare down your damn husband. It takes everything in you not to slap the stupid man in front of you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You hiss at your, maybe soon-to-be ex, husband, causing him to turn around and face your angry appearance.

“What?” He exclaims, suddenly surprised at your sudden outburst.

“You’re going out, again?” You snarl. “Luke you just got back from tour, and you’ve been working for awhile. How could you possibly go out?”

“I need a drink.” Luke insists, his lame excuse always fails to persuade you.

“All the time?!”

“I’m stressed out.”

“How the hell are you stressed out?! All you do is go to bars with the guys, doing God knows what. You could be hooking up with girls for all I know!” You croak, tears threatening to fall off your lashes, but you dare not to cry in front of your neglecting husband.

“Do you really believe I’d do that, Y/N?” He asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest while putting his foot down like an eight year old girl would do.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” Tears leak one at a time down your reddened cheeks, you wipe them away with the back of your hand.

“I need to leave,” he says the same saying he does every night, whether you want him to or not.

“Go ahead. That’s all you do anyway.” The frustration in your voice overcomes anymore sadness left at your still pending husband on his threatening count to leave. All you want to do is throw a vase at him to unleash the building tension inside.

“What the hell is your problem?” Luke barks, halting his actions to turn the doorknob.

Didn’t you just discuss this? “You wanna know what my problem is? My problem is that you go out drinking in bars and clubs while I’m stuck here caring for our one-year-old daughter and then you come home drunk at four in the morning! I didn’t sign up for this! All I want is a husband who is there for us but obviously we’re not gonna have that! You’re a shitty, lousy father and husband, Luke.”

Luke takes long strides over to you using his tall legs. He tangles his calloused hands in your silky, long hair and smashes your aching lips together in a fiery kiss. It utterly takes you by surprise at this sudden outburst of his, you can’t help but to melt into the kiss and place both of your dainty hands on his soft cheeks and kiss him back.

Your husband kisses you with such a passion that he’s never used before—it’s new, exciting. It makes a thousand tiny butterflies dance around in your stomach, and you loved it.

He starts to walk forward, backing you up into the nearest wall. You feel the cold wall against your back as you rest yourself against it while Luke hovers over you and moves his warm lips in sync with yours, fiercely and wildly. His lip ring is nice and cool against your skin, massaging your lips lightly as you both share a kiss; it was always one of your favorite feelings in the world. You feel Luke’s tongue swipe against your bottom lip, begging for entrance to the warm cavern of your mouth. You happily agree and allow his tongue to slither past your lips to meet yours, where they battle for dominance; something he always wins at.

Luke pulls away from the intense kiss, gasping for air slightly as he begins to sensually pepper kiss your neck. His lips suck on your soft spot, biting down gently on the sensitive skin, creating a visible mark that will clearly be seen the next day. He trails his fingertips down your torso and to your jeans where he pops the button and pulls down the zipper, shimmying them down your silky legs.

His fingers find their way inside your lacy panties to your clitoris. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves in figure eights, causing you to sigh quietly in his ear, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth. His tongue smooths over the fragile spots where he left deep purplish love bites all up and down your neck.

You’re in pure bliss when he slides a finger in, pumping in and out of your burning sex.

You moan his name uncontrollably in his ear. “Luke…Ah, Luke, faster, please I need it.” You whimper, bucking your delicate hips into his hand.

He looks down at you with his lustful sapphire eyes, a little smirk comes to play across his lips while his finger works faster, adding another one, then another.

“Fuck, Luke!” The tingling feeling in the pit of your stomach grows as you unravel on Luke’s slender fingers, your walls clench around them as you ride out your peak. Gasping for one single breath while you try to come down from your orgasm, you look up to meet his eyes burning holes into your soul.

His devilish grin grows while he brings his fingers to the tip of his lips, his tongue swipes off the dripping juices and he hums at the delicious, sweet taste of you and remains to keep eye contact. You watch him intently, whimpering and whining, already yearning for his throbbing member to be inside of you, deeply.

The nimbleness of your fingers threaten to never get his belt unfasten as you try to hurriedly strip him of his jeans while he pulls his shirt over his head, his hair falling right above his handsome eyes, sexily.

Once you unloosen his belt, you go straight for his button and zipper, unfastening both and pulling his jeans down his skinny legs. He hops out of them, when your hand comes in contact with his stiff cock being trapped by the confines of his boxers. A visible wet spot on his trousers from the leaking tip indicates that if you don’t touch him now, he’s going to do it himself.

Pulling down his boxers to his knees, you grab his hard dick, giving it a few tugs before swiping your thumb around his velvety tip, collecting and swirling around the pre-cum streaming from the tip.

Your lips wrap themselves around the head of him, taking him into vault of your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. His breath hitches in the back of his throat, he knew he wouldn’t even last thirty seconds like this.

“Y/N, I wanna be in your tight little pussy instead.” He grunts and removes his tip from your mouth and hoists your lightweight body up so your legs are tightly around his waist. The wall helps support your back, while he grabs his cock in his hands and gives himself a few tugs before pushing the tip into your flaming heat.

As he pushes more of his pulsating length into your warm sex, you rest your head against the wall and close your eyes in pleasure, grabbing onto the back of Luke’s hair, tugging tightly while he thrusts his pulsing dick in and out of your fiery desire.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re so fucking tight. Jesus Christ,” Luke groans, pumping in and out of you quickly and deeply. His hand travels down to rub your clitoris again, inducing the wave of pleasure coursing through your veins, bringing you closer and closer to your high.

“I-I’m close, L-Luke.” You’re a whimpering mess, unwinding as he tries to bring you closer to your release.

“Wait for me, babe.” He says, nipping along your jawline as your back comes in contact with the wall every time he thrusts in.

Ecstasy runs straight to your head and your mouth flies open in pure bliss when your walls clench around his thumping dick, tightening around him so it’s harder to move in and out. And it also brings him closer and closer to his own peak.

Luke orgasms, shooting his hot liquid deep into your core. Your liquids mix together again like it did a whole year ago when you got pregnant with your daughter.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he pants, resting his head against yours when you try to control your staggered breaths. “You’re incredible.”

“No I’m not.” You quietly disagree, pushing him back and forcing him to let you place your feet back on the ground again, putting your stripped clothes. “Apparently not incredible enough for you to always leave.”

“Y/N, you are. I am so, so, so, sorry. I know I’m such an ass, and a dick, and a douche, and a jackass. But I swear, I love you and Charlotte so, so, much it hurts. I-I know I’m a lousy father and husband but I know I would get better if I learn. I promise, I’ll never leave again.” He promises you with his dear heart. He puts back on his clothing and looks at you with soft, light blue sapphire eyes.

Luke grabs your right hand and kisses the back of it softly, holding on to for dear life before the baby monitor squawks, and a little crying baby is on the other end of it.

“That’s Charlie, I gotta go get her.” You say before a hand on your shoulder halts your movements.

“I’ll get her, Y/N. You just go to bed okay?”


He walks past and kisses your temple softly before climbing the stairs to your daughter’s girlish bedroom.

A small smile creeps up onto your beautiful lips, and you thought, Luke Hemmings, I love you so damn much, before heading up to bed and letting him take care of your little bundle of joy.

♡ ♡ ♡


theoutsidersstory asked:


It’s not exactly what the prompt asked for, but I hope that’s okay? I just felt better picking one of the guys for a romantic interest and then having the others as more sibling style x

You spent a lot of time at the Curtis house, everyone did…it helped that Ponyboy was there and in the years after Johnny and Dally had passed on he’d grown into quite the young man…however, recently the brothers had been having trouble paying their bills, it wasn’t that they didn’t work hard, but the bills had suddenly spiked probably due to how many people used their utilities now or perhaps prices had just risen with the economy falling further down…you didn’t really know, all you knew was that it was cold and dark in the Curtis house. The power had been shut off and they were using candles to light the rooms. 

The cold was something that they couldn’t fix easily and Darry had suggested you all sleep in Pony and Soda’s bed as it would fit you all, you agreed mainly because you knew the boys wouldn’t try anything and because being close to Pony in the middle of winter was pretty much a dream of yours. 

It was certainly comfortable and warm being surrounded by the three of them, you weren’t sure whose arms were behind you, you thought it was probably Soda, but you knew that Pony was in front of you and lying against his chest was incredibly surreal…you’d never felt more peaceful then when you laid there surrounded by your favourite greasers and listening to the heartbeat of a guy you’ve fancied for 3 years…Snuggling with them was the best thing that had happened all week. 

anonymous asked:

lmao I'm just imagining taehyung and kookie marathoning bleach one night and that episode comes up at around 3am and they get so dramatically emotional that jin comes up to quiet them but then he just ends up watching with them and getting twice as emotional


Okay, but imagine Jake being like intensely scared of frogs, and Hal finds out by bringing him a frog he’s found and he’s like, “Look, Jake, these things are cool.” And Jake starts like screaming at him to get away and go put the frog back and Hal’s just like are you serious. So, he starts fucking with Jake by like walking up to him with his hands covered and mentioning finding a frog just to see Jake freak out. 

anonymous asked:

My bf does this thing where like instead of just saying alright or okay he makes some comment and I respond to it and then he acts like Im the one who drags dumb things out and will get irritable and I don't know what to do about it...

When he does that, respond with how you’d like him to respond. Sometimes its just not worth it, let it go. And communicate with him. Be kind, don’t come off as attacking, but actually have a conversation about it. Let him know how you feel. Relationships are about compromise, you’re not always in the right nor is he. Good luck!!