**weeps at his beauty**

Yesterday in clinic an 90 year old patient came in with a little booklet of his medical history so beautiful I want to weep. 

Not only did it list his medications with dosages, frequency, and which pharmacy he gets them from. 

Not only did it list who his living family is, how to contact them, and who holds POA in the case of medical decision making. 

Not only did it list his surgical history *with* year of procedure. 

It had his complete vaccination history, carcinogen exposure history, and screen exams by year and finding. 

Is it possible to fall in love with a document?  


AN: I wrote this in the two and a half hour break I have between my classes. I’ve literally just been sitting here, in the middle of my universities student union, typing away at a fucking smut in public.

What have I become.

ANYWAY. It’s not my best, but it’s something xD Enjoy~

Words: 1,321

Genre Smut

 Everything is a blur. You don’t remember getting home and sitting on your couch. You don’t remember what you had texted Taehyung to get him so riled up—but what you do know is that the brown haired boy is striding towards you with promise for punishment in his dark eyes.

“Tae?” you ask, flushing red when you look down to see that you’re naked from the waist up, and the only thing covering your womanhood is a pair of sheer panties that you don’t remember buying.

The door to the apartment clicks shut as Taehyung’s footfalls echo into the dimly lit apartment. He passes into the living room, his hands moving to his belt—an inch of tan skin on his stomach revealed to you as he unloops the buckle and tugs the belt free. The sight of Taehyung alone has your gut flourishing, arousal slicking your wall, and yet—

“Taehyung? What are you doing here? I–,” you begin to say, confused and embarrassed as you hug the blanket which had been next to you to your chest. Saying nothing, Taehyung rounds the coffee table, folding his belt in his hands, and your press yourself into the back of the couch. You can see the bulge beneath his fitted slacks, the outline of his cock showing perfectly against his thigh.

“Up,” his deep voice finally speaks, and a shiver racks your spine. Is he serious? The question bleeds into your mind as your wide eyes look up at him, searching his handsome face for any indication of a joke. You can’t find one.

“Up. Now,” he speaks again, fingers tightening around his belt. Swallowing, nervousness and excitement muddling in your chest, you press off the couch and stand in front of him, continuing to hug the blanket to your chest. He clicks his tongue in disapproval when he notices, and with one swift tug any coverage the blanket had provided is gone, leaving you to grapple to cover yourself, pink embarrassment sneaking onto your cheeks and down your neck.

“What a cute, shy little princess,” he chuckles, reaching forward. He grips one of your wrists and leans in, his lips connecting to yours. The contact immediately has you swooning, all of your worries momentarily forgotten as you step forward and kiss him back. Taehyung hums in approval at your submission, his teeth playfully tugging at your bottom lip, and already you’re going insane with lust. What has gotten into you?

“Good girl,” he comments nonchalantly, tongue teasing into your mouth, and it’s at that moment that you realize your arms aren’t shielding your chest anymore. Instead they’re in Taehyung’s grasp, wrapped tightly with his belt, and when you tug at the bonds, they won’t even budge.

“Tae–,” you begin, surprised at the dominance he’s suddenly exerting, but yet again Taehyung cuts you off. He leans back in and captures your lips, his tongue snaking into your mouth and his large hands moving to press against the curve of your spine. Hands tied in front of you, you’re somewhat helpless to resist him as he pulls you in, caging your body against his. Taehyung then proceeds to kiss your breath away, and you moan at his touch, gasping when his hands slide down to your hips, his fingers teasing at your panty line.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, princess,” he growls against your lips, and you gasp at his words, any remaining sanity flying out the window. You want nothing more than for him to follow through with his heated promises.

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The rain fell hard, a stubborn rain that seemed in ache to wash away the blood and sobs of the land.The world howling in abandon as thunder roared about the tiny apartment complex, shrouded in darkness, the electricity long since giving out.

The atmosphere, however, was not one of sadness, but of melancholy, a bittersweetness akin to poetry. So the tanned boy with unruly blonde locks paid it no mind, in face, it felt quite in place that the Earth would be crying.

Sasuke was leaving again

Naruto had felt it pulsating in the hospital walls, as the two of them healed from the damage they had inflicted to one anothers body, out of hate, out of indescribale passion and love, it hurt to dwell upon.

Another roar of thunder and said blonde looked at the only other occupant in the small room that was brimming with a silence, that was both comforting and telling, each knowing what the others soul was aching to spill, but such feelings have no name.

His onxy hair so black there were hues of midnight blue when the flashes of lightning scattered a brief array on his porcelain skin.

A face angels weep over, such beauty in those features, and such rage, it was a concept that reared the idea there must be a higher power, for this perfection was surely made of Gods.

Naruto smiled shyly at him, not feeling shy of his presence, no, that was the magic of it, rather, it was the words caught on his tongue.

Sasuke eyes the look with both adoration and certain exasperation.

“Naruto…I understand wh…., I will not ever harm this village nor the tailed beasts, for you. But realize this is for you alone, but you cannot ask me to stay here…I will not and ….”

He looked away, throat constricting, why was this so hard? He had rehearsed, imagined how this would be but looking into the expected dread in those blue eyes threatened his will, like it always did when he was near Naruto.

“Sasuke….” Naruto gulped. “Sasuke, I… I’m so sorry.” Teary eyed and honest, Naruto looked at his best friend, blue eyes fixated on inky black.

“I was so selfish, selfish for you to be near me, I wanted you to be safe and I knew no one…” A golden skinned hand, ran its fingers in frustration through his scalp. “I knew no one would since Itachi would ….”

Love you as I do

The words did not come out, they felt insufficient almost. For the devotion was maddening and it was not just love. It was friendship, loyalty, heart wrenching feelings that made him weak and strong, euphoric, safe, like he had a home everywhere he went because this boy…had melted himself into his soul.

The rain outside continued, another soft song of thunder encompassing them, the darkened room filled with the occasional array of lights from the bolts weaving down into the sky.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at Naruto’s unfinished declaration, not so much that he was curious of what he was to say, but in a childish antic to urge the other to toughen up and be pure.

Naruto laughed at the look but turned away, still part of him angered, to be honest, his soul was being shattered.

Sasuke was leaving again. Again. And this time, Naruto would let him.

Abruptly, the raven hair stood gracefully, a movement of form that would have ballerinas weep, but behind it was something even greater, a lethal grace.

Naruto, whom had been leaning his back against his twin bed, looked up at Sasuke, whose delicate, slim fingers reached out to him.

Naruto, thinking the boy was helping him to his feet, took the pale hand in his own, that same spark soaring into every nerve like static. Beautiful, terrfying, lovely….

However, Naruto was surprised that once his toes had planted their place on the hard floor, Sasuke did not relinquish his grip.

Another cry of thunder and Sasuke drew nearer, causing Naruto to catch his breath.

Getting the idea, as the raven invited Naruto to lean his chest against the others, guiding him with one arm into his embrace.

The rain did the crying for them, it seemed nature had concocted a moment of such emotion, the two boys could not very much speak it, but it was intimately shared, and it somehow broke and melded the heart at once.

Sharing these delicate stares, hurt, But in a way that meant the world to them. It hurt because it was love, and love hurt because love exists side by side with loss, with intangible fear of loss, love was painful and insufficient.

Naruto’s left arm snaked across Sasuke’s back to rest at the crook of is neck, and cheek to cheek they swayed to the sound of pouring rain.

It was too gentle to be clumsy, though neither had ever danced, they had much practice in melding their bodies to form in a sync that took even those utmost skilled ninja to perfect, it was something that occurred because their bones, their very essence knew one another and so the solemn dance went about smooth and dangerously close enough that each boy thought about forsaking their dreams to just be here, to be with one another and lock themselves apart from the rest of the world.

It seared within them a pain they had never tasted. Not because it was more tragic but because neither had ever intended to fall in love and that particular sense of being tied and bound was a loss that neither had ever thought they would experience.

It felt so good to be near one another, both eager for more, for it all, to completely possess and devour one another entirely so that they may merge completely.

A whiskered cheek caressed Sasuke’s high cheekbone, lovingly, a smile playing on their lips.

“Sasuke…” Naruto whispered, gently, no one ever spoke his name quite like that and it sent chills up his spine and he almost hated it, he hated being so quick to be effected by this ….idiot.

A tan hand cupped his face and Naruto stared into him deeply, as if to etch this feeling into the others very being.

“I’m…..sorry, I … You know…… but I gotta say it.. ya know? I ….I’m just sorry. I understand and even if I will always wish that you would stay here just like you wish I would leave…”

Sasuke smirked at his flustered nature,

“Don’t you laugh at me, bastard.” he pouted, but a glint of humor shown in his eyes.

Sasuke was smart, he knew that Naruto would never walk away from Iruka, his team, his friends, his home. Something he had fought his entire life for, something the child on the swing within him still needed.

Who was Sasuke to be angry?…

He would often ponder, For different, but strikingly similar reasons was the very fact Sasuke could not stay and Naruto could not leave, Sasuke knew, but both had seen it in one anothers soul, however in love, however madly in love… These ideals were concrete.

“I would have asked you to come with me….” Sasuke murmured, almost as if it were a prayer “But it makes much more sense for you to remain here.”

Naruto’s face, mere inches from his own could feel the sigh that ghosted from his pink lips.

If Sasuke were to beg, Naruto would surely accompany him to every facet and crevice of this earth, but he was an Uchiha, above all, he was Sasuke and that was not something he was made to do.

“So….Would that mean you would not come back?” Naruto said, timid, hopeful….

Bodies touching, feet swaying, the rain, relentless making tunes among the glass.

“It would mean you and I….” Yes, Sasuke wanted to say…..Yes I would not live here again…. but instead he made clear the nature of what was to become of them.

“Would never be more than this.”

That was all. That was all that was whisked across Naruto’s face to know that -  he could bear his heart out again and again, this boy was not coming back and he could not ever ask that of him again.

Left foot, right foot, hands roaming onto one another’s skin, leaving trails of goosebumps.

Naruto’s fingertips grazed across a cheekbone, Sasuke’s arm gripping tighter and closer to the small of the others back, feeling one anothers heart beat through the thin fabric of their pajamas.

“In you, Naurto, an honest smile will always arise in me, this…..” Sasuke said, reaching for a tan strong hand to intertwine fingers and place it across his heart. “This, this is yours…and yours alone.”

Tightening his hold, Naruto shut his eyes as fallen streaks of tears stain at his whiskered cheeks, he wanted to beg for him to hold on, to not let go….

“As all of me is yours.” Naruto, sighedwith a sunshine grin.

They continued to sway to the beat of the rain, the music of the thunder, as they gripped closely, sharing breath, as lips grazed onto each other.

@pastelcruz @it-started-over-sasunaru @elenaki663 @narutoandsasukearecanon @sasutohisnaru

anonymous asked:

Will you write something fluffy with will like him as a teenager?

I am going to consider this my submission for the “write what you don’t write” challenge – I’m not in the business of family fic. But…

drabble; pg-13; fluff; MSR w/ William AU; William is a lot of things and there is something he is not.


William speaks three different languages, and he looks at people funny when they think mean thoughts about him. William plays the bassoon. William reads his entire textbook front to back the night before a major test and could ace that test, kill it dead, were you to give it to him years later.

William can’t hit a baseball to save his goddamn life.

It’s not that like-father-like-son projection bullshit you see in the movies. His father doesn’t push. William joins little league because he wants to join little league – baseball is kinda cool. He likes the numbers, the angles, he likes the single sip of beer his parents allow on nights the Yankees are playing. Beer is disgusting.

William tells his mom that she’s going to drop the prized crystal pitcher before she drops the prized crystal pitcher. His warning never stops it from happening, so she just sighs and accepts defeat. William volunteers at the animal shelter on Saturday mornings and the dogs tell him their war stories. William needs a lot of iron in his diet.

His dad never gives up on him. They play catch, they run sandy circles, they slap baseballs into the night sky like they’re being paid to do it. It feels like they are. The need to get it right is similar to the crushing weight of high school coming at him like a fastball. It’s gotta happen. He needs to move forward. He’s gotta hit the ball.

His father is patient, almost quiet when they bat up every night. He gets a faraway look in his eyes that William would try to decipher if his dad wasn’t so emotional all the time. It’s disgusting. Being in his head is sometimes like watching Oprah and other times like one of those Tarantino films his mom lets him watch but dad shakes his head at. And then sometimes it’s like Star Trek: The Original Series. A lot of the time it’s like Star Trek: The Original Series.

William can compose beautiful songs that make his grandmother weep, but he prefers the fart noises on the old Casio. William didn’t realize breathing underwater was weird until his mother started screaming and yanking him out of the tub at the tender age of five. William could join the swim team, but he doesn’t want to.

William, in all honesty, could tell the ball where to go, could lift it over the trees and into the sky like a badass fighter jet. But he looks at his father. Looks at his mom, when she comes out to join them and kisses his dad and makes him want to puke. William could win the game and score homeruns and hit the ball so far out of the park the Mars Rover might be in for an unwelcome surprise.

But it’s not about that.

He just wants to hit the damn ball.

Thomas has a copy of the Book of Common Prayer by his bed, he prays in the morning and in the evening. He has read the Bible, Old and New Testaments, front to back. He knows the Lord’s word and knows his own opinions on that word.

He and God have differing thoughts on some things, Thomas knows that this is not a “good Christian thing” but he cannot help his nature. If God made him, and God is perfect, is Thomas and his imperfection not then perfect? Is his love for his fellow man not then perfect? Is his desire for man not perfect?

The Bible would say no, it isn’t. But Thomas does not believe that God had final say in His word.

He struggles at times with his faith. For it is true; man cannot live on bread alone, and Thomas cannot live on science and logic alone. Faith completes him, gives him goodness to strive for. Even when the bishops and clergymen shout from their pulpits about sin and redemption and judgement, Thomas doubts they truly understand what they are saying. All men doubt, no matter how close to God they may be.

In Bethlam he isn’t allowed a Book of Common Prayer, but he is allowed a Bible. He reads it again. He doubts more, angers more and rages against God for how He has punished Thomas for simply loving and being happy.

He prays for mercy, for release, but never for forgiveness. There is nothing to be forgiven.

When he is taken to the New World and out to work on the plantation, he takes the Bible and finds a copy of the Book of Common Prayer. Slowly, with no small amount of doubt and determination, he comes to love God again. He begins to see good and light in the world agin in the shape of men enjoying sunlight and fresh water, of birds flying overhead, the sound of laughter and stories being told…

And, when chains rattle and a man stands across the field from him, shaved head and dark clothes so foreign from Thomas’ own knowledge of him, he feels God’s love flow into his very core.

He kisses the man he loves, holds him and weeps. James, his beautiful and perfect James, weeps as well and holds him as though he would crumble if he let go.

God did not put him in Bethlam. God did not put him in this simple prison. God brought his love back to him, and Thomas prayed silently in thanks for that moment and let his tears flow.

beautiihurts  asked:

" Fragile like Glass "

hi hi hello !!!! thank you so much for reading the rules <3 also i love mtt but his hair is killing me slowly


Dorian/Trevelyan, Post Trespasser.

For @daficswap​ round 5. Featuring @lateforerebor​ /  @trashwarden​‘s Vaxus Trevelyan, Dorian, and their adopted son Felix.

Also known as oops I tripped here’s a silly fic about babies and why can’t we just hate the people who were cruel to us for all the wrong reasons.

ANYWAY I loved reading  up on Vaxus, you have such an expansive history of character reference to work with!!! I hope you like, if you want me to change anything at all then please, let me know.

Dorian supposes that hating Halward Pavus would be easier if his father never loved him.

This is not a new thought—not a new thing to be churning around in his mind, this little bright and gleaming cog among all the filthy, jumbled clockwork that makes up Dorian’s memories of his father. The one that still turns right, when all the others would stutter and fail without it.

Sometimes he wishes it would tarnish. That he could find some long-repressed memory that will show his father’s to be a false thing from the start—and then he might wash his hands of the whole mess. Move on with his life, and let the name Pavus and a seat in the magisterium be the only things he takes from his father.

He almost—almost succeeds.

Then Felix falls, rather neatly, into their lives.

“Your son is still screaming.”

Dorian is certain that Vaxus’ response is, in fact, utterly inappropriate for young ears. Never mind that the beholder of said ears is but two hours into his fourth day on Thedas, or that the words themselves cannot be heard over his unending howling.

“What? Speak up, please, I cannot hear you over the sound of a very small despair demon.”

Dorian finds it utterly unfair that Vaxus still has the ability to laugh. All he’s been able to do is grow ever more snappish and disheveled the longer this goes on.

Vaxus is in bed, although he’s managed to sit up now. Blinking slowly, and a smile spreading across his features that is as equally vexing as it is charming.

“He’s a baby,” Vaxus informs Dorian, a level of amusement in his words that is simply ridiculous, for how little sleep they’ve both gotten. “They do that.”

Infuriating man.

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anonymous asked:

ooh!! can i please request nurseydex 10 or 19? thank you!!!

You guys. I am so excited about all the prompts I got. This was a particularly fun one. It started out in my mind as a typical hurt/comfort fic, but I decided to put a twist on it – Nursey is feeling absolutely no pain at all!!! Dex is in charge of taking care of him after his wisdom teeth are removed. Poor Nursey is so high and whiney lol! Enjoy!

10. It really hurts.

Nursey moaned as he rested in the recovery room. “It really hurts…” He had had four wisdom teeth removed.

“How? You have enough painkillers in you to kill a horse,” Dex said with a raised eyebrow.

“I can’t feel anything…”

“Ya think?”

“I dreamed I married you,” Nursey confessed, his head lolling to one side. He reached out to touch Dex’s face, but it ended up closer to a poke in the cheek. “We had a house with a little frog porch and we sat there holding hands.”

“A frog porch?”

“On the house.”

“Do you mean front porch?”


Dex grinned. “Okay, dopey. I think it’s time to get you home.” He patted Nursey’s arm gently before standing to grab his hoodie from the back of the chair.

“I was so happy, you know? I really like you, you’re beautiful. I only chirp cuz I wanna tell you but ssscared of reaction.”

“You’re scared of how I would react? Really?”

Nursey had already moved on to the next part of his drug-induced confession. “The other day when I was writing a poem? It wasn’t a poem. I wrote ‘Derek Poindexter’ over and over and over…”

(More after the cut)

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Doctor! Jackson

•He wears his kitty mouth mask all the time to seem less scary toward ppl

•makes the patients laugh with his jokes

•brings presents for the young ones

•always smiling

•always nice to the old ladies

•takes care of the cancer patients

•but it’s not nice in games

•he goes to the mad house

•he’s someone that nobody want to be near

•he always comes to your cell first

•smirking like the devil

•you having imaginary synonym making it seem like the most beautiful and kindest king

• you weeping at his every touch

• you getting excited from saying your name

•you loving when he brings new toys for you to play with

• you loved when he ties you to the bed

•you loving when he sticks dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, fruit and all they kink shit inside you

• you also loves it when he chokes you

• you two breaking the bed

• you thinking that he loves you

• you’re like his puppy

• your just happy to even be around him

• you won’t have your medicine until he comes and gives it you

• you loving him taking care of you

• you having huge breakdowns in the middle of the night

• only Jackson could calm you down

• he would come up behind you before squatting down and covering your ears from the noise you always hear making it shut off and you calm the fuck down

• you asking him to take the pain away and making you feel like the queen you are

• him being a total sweetheart

• he carrying to your new bed and tugging you in and telling you bed time stories

• staring at you for long time

• before taking your hands and pressing his lips against your thumb

• gets so fucking jealous when other doctors think they can come into your room

• give your punishment when you smile at the other doctors

• you thinking it okay so you take it like a strong woman

• calling him Doctor wang makes his wee wee happy

• loved when you beg for him

• him kissing all the needle scars and old cuts when you’re sleeping

• he hates when you see him being a softie

• him calling you annoying, bratty, whore, peasant and all that bad things

• but calling to this princess, Queen, goddess when your sleeping

• he has this off and on switch with you

• one day the hospital let Jackson take you outside to get some fresh so you both went to the park and had ice cream and fed the ducks and played with children and just had fun time but then you woke up and realize it was all a dream

• yelling for Jacksons but realizing he’s not real and he was all in your head

• you getting worst and worst

• so you smashed your head against the wall and crack your head open

Originally posted by wangmins

Nette~ idk why I made this so emo WOWOWOOW


George Harrison (with Ringo Starr and Mal Evans) during the Let It Be sessions, January 1969. Photos presumably by Ethan Russell.

“[O]n her [Doris Troy’s] wall were photos of people she admired and who most inspired her. Martin Luther King was among them. Another was Billy Preston, who slept on the floor until he found a roof of his own. Another was George Harrison.” - Apple Records website [x]

“[George] was into his spiritual life - that was who he was, he wasn’t a partying person. He always appeared to be really cool and really calm, he never cursed nobody. He was just a good guy - the child was serious.” - Doris Troy, While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Music of George Harrison

“George was beautiful, his soul was beautiful, and his mind was beautiful. His attitude was beautiful, he was just a beautiful guy, he was one of a kind. There’s not many people like George, I’m telling you, and I’ve met a lot of people over the years. The man was one of a kind.” - Doris Troy, While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Music of George Harrison

The Party

Over the years, Jim had gotten really good at dying.

Like, really, reallygood.

Call it a hobby—like knitting or Sudoku. He dabbled in dying, you could say. Mortality wasn’t just some game or abstract concept to him, despite what his illustrious death toll led everyone to believe. He knew exactly just how embarrassingly capable he was of dying at any given moment; explosions, stab wounds, burns, alien parasites, angry non-corporeal entities, radiation poisoning, you name it. He’d been there, done that. If losing a pulse was a medium, James T. Kirk was a goddamn artist.

He also happened to be a hell of a good actor.

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Le Petit Prince et La Petite Coccinelle

For @polkadotsdesign :) She was having a long day so I made her a present. (Warning: Kind of long.)

Once upon a time, when magic still flowed through the land and its people like a river, there came into this world a prince who would grow to be so beautiful, his features would make angels weep, and his smile would brighten even the poorest beggar’s day. His mother, a woman so loving and kind that her mere presence could melt the cold and hardened heart of her husband, was a sorceress who had fallen in love with the king after he’d broken a curse placed upon her in which she’d spent the last one hundred years as a peacock. Since that day, they had been inseparable, and when it was announced that the Queen Sorceress was expecting a child, their entire kingdom rejoiced.

But the joy of his son’s birth was short-lived for the king.

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