i met the doctor on the weekend


So, we happened to do something huge this weekend at Dragon Con. I proposed to my long time girlfriend, @sinfulmarinette, on Saturday, Sept 2nd, 2017.

We met through Doctor Who. I roleplayed as the Eleventh Doctor and she roleplayed as Clara Oswald. We met each other as those characters so I knew I had to propose to her as those characters and Dragon Con was the place to do it. After a kick of motivation from a friend, @riallasheng, and several others, I finally decided to follow though with it this year. After some thorough sneaky planning, I was able to get the ring box and rings here in time and coordinate with the guy in charge of the cosplay photo shoot so he’d gather a group up together and then call us up to come forward. She had no idea of our plans. It caught her entirely off guard (as well as the others involved in the shoot, as you can see) and it was a huge success. I’m honestly still shocked that I didn’t completely screw up my speech, haha.

And the fact the entire Pond family was there to celebrate with us made it all the more amazing! They all seemed so excited to be part of the event and that made us both feel over the moon.

You could say it was OUT OF THIS WORLD. (Hahaha. Yeah. I had to go there.)

It was wonderful and so was the rest of the weekend. We were surrounded by friends and support and that made everything better. We can’t thank everyone there enough for a perfect engagement weekend!


- Why Can’t It Be Like That , by @taggiecb : Louis Tomlinson, head of his local hospital’s charity fund, suddenly finds himself in the heart of the Royal family when his mother marries the third son of the reigning monarch. Such an upset in lifestyle brings a lot of changes for Louis, one of them being the need for a stylist. Enter Harry Styles, a cutting edge fashion stylist who loves his job and prides himself on his passion. The first time he sees Louis Tomlinson on the cover of a tabloid he wants to dress him, style him, make him as beautiful as Harry knows he could be. When he’s hired to do just that, he knows this will be a perfect partnership. That is, until he actually meets the man.A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn’t need a stylist, Harry’s thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they’re both very wrong about each other.

Larry Royal AU with a twist (93k, E) : Stylist Harry and newbie kind of Prince Louis, totally hate to love and angsty (meaning ammmmaaazing angry sex (bottom Louis) ) and miscommunication. read this !

- How Fast You Fall , by @fullonlarrie : They meet as transfer students at university orientation, and Louis wants Harry the first time he sees him. But Louis isn’t looking for a boyfriend. With school and work, he doesn’t have time for anything more than a casual hookup. When they become roommates, Louis decides it’s best not to pursue Harry and take the chance of messing up their living situation. They quickly become good friends and soon Louis realizes that his attraction is much more than just physical. However, because Harry has a plan to stay single and celibate until he graduates, Louis assumes that he doesn’t stand a chance, and tries everything he can think of to make himself forget about his feelings for Harry. 

Larry Uni/Roomates/Friends to lovers AU (50k, E) : aaahhhhhhh this fic is awesome !! A lot of pining and sexual tension, and also an amazing plot twist I don’t want to spoil (but it’s linked to Love Actually). So fucking good ! (hot smut too, kind of share that)

- Looking Through You , by @allwaswell16 : Just as Louis and Liam were starting out in the music industry, writing and producing for up and coming artists, a fateful meeting with new pop singer Harry Styles changes everything. Four years later, just as Harry is set to embark on his next world tour, a drunken confession causes a rift between once inseparable friends. As Harry tries to make sense of his feelings for Louis, he begins writing his next album to express them as it may be the only way to break through the walls that Louis has built between them.

Larry BFF to lovers AU (41k, E) : my heeeeeart. My feeeels. Songwriter Louis and famous singer Harry, so much angst omg, it’(s amazing read this. (bottom Louis)

- Too good to be bad, by @latitta : “You’ll never guess who’s here,” Louis rushes out, knowing very well that this is not how it’s supposed to go. “Louis, we should focus on the mission.” “I know, but it’s Harry, Li.” Liam falters for a second. “Training camp, sexual awakening Harry?” Or: Two spies, one mission, zero things left in common between them.

Larry Spy AU (24k, E) : with a ex to lovers and hate to love plot, some sexual tension and high sex (bottom Harry).

- Have Me And Hold Me , by @letsjustsee :  His clumsy trips were now even more burdened by the sudden downpour. Twice he almost fell making his way back to the ceremony area, mostly due to his insistence on running across the lawn in between trips. The rain was relentless, coming at him from all angles with a deafening wind that muted everything outside of his own heavy breathing.
He felt like he was making pretty good headway, all things considered. His pace was stalled only momentarily when, on his tenth or so trip, he thought about what someone looking out the window at that moment would see. Louis in his formal shirt and trousers, barefoot, stomping through the muddy lawn to gracelessly lug two chairs at a time towards the building.
Or, a wedding day AU in which Louis will let nothing stand in the way of a perfect day - especially a little rain.

Larry established relationship and Wedding AU (6k, NR) : OMG i genuinely cried !! so fucking cute and fluffy, and not at all what I was thinking about ^^’

- Outside Is Just A Blur , by  daggerandtherose : Louis’ son might just be a technology genius as he has quite a knack for calling strangers up on Louis’ phone.  Repeatedly.

Larry single dad Louis (18k, NR) : fluffy and cute, with no smut :)

- Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake  , by @all-these-larrythings  ( Rearviewdreamer ): Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn’t know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he’s ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.

Larry mpreg AU (58k, M) : When Doctor Harry met Teacher Louis in vacation … It’s been a long time I haven’t read mpreg , but this one is really great !! barely angsty, fluffy and sweet :) (obviously Bottom Harry for the smut)

- The Melody You Never Heard , by @anylessreal ( bananasandboots ): It’s one last adventure. One last chance to be young and carefree. One final weekend before they take up their internships, their corporate positions, before they enter the real world, fresh out of university. Niall’s his best mate. Liam’s been there for him since they were lost, little freshmen, trying to find their ways through an overwhelming first year. Harry can’t disappoint them, even if it means enduring four days with Louis.  Louis, who he does share a history with, a history he’s never told anyone about, not even Niall, a history he hasn’t brought up in three years because it’s stupid and embarrassing and confusing. Or, the one where Harry gets roped into a four-day camping trip with the boy who kissed him and never called back.

Larry Camping AU (30k, E) : hate to love, full of banters and flirting and boys being bad at communication :D  (not top or bottom, but - great- smut)

New In Town Starters

“I don’t look older, I just look worse.”

“I always thought quicksand was gonna be a much bigger problem than it turned out to be”

“if you watch cartoons, quicksand is like the third biggest thing you have to worry about in adult life behind real sticks of dynamite and anvils falling on you from the sky.”

“I think I’m becoming more like my mom. I was watching Access Hollywood, and one of the reporters said ‘up next we have and exclusive interview with Sandra Bullock’s former husband, Jesse James.’ And out loud I went ‘uhg! This oughta be good!’”

“One time I was in bed and my dad came in and said ‘good night (name) did you brush your teeth?’ And I said ‘yes’ but here’s the thing… I hadn’t.”

“If the court reporter reads back my remarks you will see that I did not purger myself.”

“She would just make wild accusations all day long and wait for something to stick.”

“My mom would blame me for things that happened on the news. That is true.”

“(Name) I have been here all night! You can feel the tv, it’s warm.”

“Luckily I had a good alibi because I was in Wisconsin and twelve.”

“My brothers and sisters and I had this babysitter when we were kids and I was in love with her.”

“Why was she in charge?!”

“That’s just like hiring a slightly bigger child.”

“That would be like if you were going out of town for the week and you paid a horse to watch your dog.”

“Why do people shush animals? They’ve never spoken.”

“This is the height of luxury!”

“Lost in New York? The streets are numbered! How did you get lost in New York?”

“It’s a grid system motherfucker. Where you at? 24th and 5th? Where you wanna go? 35th and 6th? 11 up and 1 over you simple bitch.”

“When I was in grade school I was bullied for being Asian American and… the biggest problem with that… is that I am not Asian american.”

“On the first day that he met me, the guy that is now my best friend went home and said ‘papa, today I met a boy with no eyes’ and that was me.”

“Thirteen year olds are the meanest people in the world. They terrify me to this day.”

“8th graders will make fun of you but in an accurate way.”

“No! that’s the thing I’m sensitive about!”

“First off: no.”

“If you’re comparing the badness of two words and you won’t even say one of them, that’s the worse word.”

“Midgets were never enslaved! Unless you count the Wonka factory!”

“It was really easy to get away with murder before they knew about DNA.”

“Here’s how easy it was to get away with bank robbery back in the 30s: as long as you weren’t still there when the police arrived, you had a 99% chance of getting away with it.”

“Oh good it has a mind of its own, that’s very reassuring.”

“It’s 100% easier not to do things, and so much fun not to do them. Especially when you were supposed to do them.”

“In terms of like instant relief, canceling plans is like heroin.”

“I’ve never been killed by hit men, so I don’t know what it’s like in the moments right before you’re killed by hit men, but I bet it’s not unlike when you’re on the subway and you realize that a mariachi band is about to start playing.”

“It doesn’t have to be right, it just has to be short.”

“A hero is any man that does his job.”

“A bozo is any man that cheats on his wife.”

“I went into the room to get the massage and the woman there told me to undress to my comfort level. So I put on a sweater and a pair of corduroy pants, and I felt safe.”

“Hey mister! I found your treasure!”

“If I got a plate of crack for the table would you have some?”

“I have a girlfriend now myself, which is weird because I’m probably gay, based on how I act and behave and have walked and talked for 28 years.”

“I think I was supposed to be gay. I think in heaven they built like three quarters of a gay person and they forgot to flip the final switch and just sent me out.”

“Everyone get out of my way! I just wanna sit here and feed my birds.”

“You want me to do what?”

“We’ve been going pretty hot and heavy lately, I think it’s time we brought in two older catholic people.”

“I listen to everything my girlfriend says. I don’t mean she bosses me around, I just mean that before I had a girlfriend, I never had someone who was always standing next to me and could just point out obvious things that are happening.”

“I don’t look like someone who used to do anything.”

“Oh hey, (name), would you like an old turnip we found in a cabinet? Would that be good for you? Would you like that? I know you don’t drink!”

“I’m really sorry about last night, I was just so drunk.”

“I’m really sorry about last night, it’s just that I’m mean and loud. It probably will happen again.”

“I don’t drink anymore because I used to drink too much and I would black out and ‘ruin parties’ –or so I’m told.”

“ I was 20 and I was at a party at someone’s house and I blacked out drinking and someone came out of one of the rooms at this party holding an old antique bottle with some liquid in it and they said ‘hey, is this whiskey or perfume?’ And apparently I grabbed it, drank all of it and said ‘it’s perfume.’ And it was.”

“(name) was an asshole and one weekend he and his wife decided to leave town, which you should never do if you’re an asshole.”

“Okay, lets go over there and destroy the place.”

“I walked into this party, everyone I had ever met was there and everyone was drinking like it was the end of the world.”

“People were drinking like it was the civil war and a doctor was coming to saw our legs off.”

“They had a pool table in the basement, one kid got a running start and threw his body onto the pool table and broke it in half.”

“I’m standing in the basement and I’m holding a red cup - you’ve seen movies - and I’m starting to black out. And I guess someone said like ‘something something police’ and in a brilliant moment of word association, I shouted ‘FUCK DUH POLICE’ and everyone else joined in. A hundred white, drunk children yelling ‘fuck. duh. police’ with the confidence of guys that have like already been to jail and aren’t afraid of it anymore.”

“My friend – who is now a father, this man now has a baby – grabbed a 40, smashed it on the ground and yelled ‘SCATTER!’ And everyone ran in different directions.”

“I ran into the laundry room and hopped up onto the washing machine and climbed out a window into the back yard and I’m running through the back yard and there’s this huge chain link fence and I thought ‘I have never climbed a fence that high before!’ And then I woke up and home.“

“And I said ‘no’ you know, like a liar.”

“And I had that thought, that only black out drunks and Steve Urkel can have: did I do that? I figured no, I wouldn’t have done that, but I was never sure.”

“he takes me into his bedroom and then he takes me into a side room off of his bedroom- never a good thing to have.”


“Because it’s the one thing you can’t replace.”

“That’s the end of that story but how fucked up is that?”

“I was going into my building late at night and in front of my building I saw a wheel chair knocked over on its side, with no one in it. That’s a bad thing to see. Something happened there, you hope it was a miracle, but probably not.”

“That wasn’t what I was telling you, but alright, let’s talk about this entirely new topic.”

“Excuse me, I am homeless, I am gay, I have AIDS and I’m new in town.”

“That is not the most dramatic thing that you just said.”

“Hey would you help me out? I’m very gay, I’d like a few dollars.”

“Yeah that’s the type of lowbrow shit I’m looking for.”

Imagine being Happy's niece

Your doona encased you in a cocoon of warmth as you stared lazily out the window. Coffee kissed your lips and worked to cure your aching head. You knew you would regret last night. Partying wasn’t your thing, but whenever you visited your Uncle ‘Happy’ you always ended up with a hangover. Despite his ironic name, you two always had a great time. You groaned as your phone rang out in your ears. You didn’t look at the screen before answering, “Hello?”

“(Y/N), the club needs a favour.” You lip caught between your teeth as you processed what your uncle was saying. A favour, for Samcro. Letting out a sigh you regretfully questioned,

“What’s the favour?” You didn’t like doing ‘favours’ for the MC. You’d helped out Tacoma once and then had constantly been at their call… But there weren’t many people hanging around MC’s with your skills.

“Medical emergency at the clubhouse. Tara isn’t in town to help us out.” Right. This MC had a doctor, but of course she wasn’t around the weekend you were in town.

“I don’t have many supplies.” You untangled yourself from your doona and began to walk to the guest room.

“Chibs went to get Tara’s bag from Jax’s house. Should be enough supplies there.” Great. There was no way you could get out of this.

“I’ll be there in ten.”


Happy met you out the front of the clubhouse and guided you inside. “What exactly am I treating?” You wearily asked Happy.

“Gunshot wound.” You nodded before being greeted by a Scottish man.

“You must be the Happy’s niece. The doctor?” You nodded, shaking his hand.

“Dr (Y/N) Lowman. Where’s the patient?” You followed the Scot through a set of large double doors, eyeing the curled headed man.

“Tig. Nice you meet you.” His spoke through his teeth before taking another swig of vodka. You set your bag down on the table, unzipping it, looking through your supplies and grabbing out a local anaesthetic. You flicked the needle,

“This might hurt…”


“Just make sure he gets some rest and he should be fine.” You smiled at the President.

“Thanks, Doc. The club owes you a favour.” You chuckled, shaking your head,

“No favours.”

“Seems fair.” The President smiled at you before walking off. You turned to your Uncle, yawning,

“I might head back to your house. Get some rest.” Happy handed you a key from his pocket and nodded,

“You sure you don’t want to stick around for a little while first?”

“Yeah, I’m su-…” You eyed landed on a younger man sitting at a computer. Mohawks and head tattoos weren’t usually your type but you couldn’t help the grin that surfaced on your lips,  

“Actually, maybe I’ll stay a little while.” What girl could resist a bad boy?

On Thursday, I was supposed to go to the homeschool co-op for the kids’ orientation day.  It was nearly 100 degrees outside, so husband suggested I stay home with A, and he’d accompany the boys.  It was a pretty quiet day, A and I just hung out at home and chilled out.  I picked up a little, baked a little, no big deal, just three days overdue and tired. 

Everyone came home that afternoon, and we picked up burgers for dinner.  Around 6 o’clock I started having what seemed like Braxton Hicks contractions.  They didn’t contract my whole abdomen, nor did they start from my back and radiate forward.  They did, however, come with a strange shooting pain that went downward into my pelvis.  I thought this was strange, but I timed them, and they weren’t regular.  Ten minutes, five minutes, twelve minutes.

This went on for three and a half hours.  Then at 9:30, they became regular.  It still didn’t feel like labor, these contractions felt nothing like my previous pregnancies.  But they started coming every five and a half minutes.  At 10:30, husband and I went upstairs, and they started becoming more painful.  Husband had said he was going to go take a bath, but I asked him to please stay with me and keep me company.  Later, he said that’s when he knew something was up.  

The contractions kept on like that for another 45 minutes, so I texted my mom and asked her to come over.  The plan was for her to come sit with the kids while the in-laws drove down, and then she would come join us at the hospital.  I took a shower while waiting for her to come, which relieved my pain and made me lose track of the contractions.

At this point, I still wasn’t completely convinced I was in labor.  It just didn’t feel the same.  In the past, my whole abdomen would contract, radiating tightness from my belly button.  Husband could feel them from the outside.  This time, the contracting was focused lower and more internally.  In the past, the most comfortable position was side-lying, this time it was sitting up with my legs criss crossed.

Husband and I were both so unsure about it at first, that he didn’t want to call his parents.  It was the middle of the night on a Thursday, he said he would wait until I was admitted at the hospital to call.

By the time my mom got here, I was certain this was probably labor, no matter how different it was.  I would get on all fours for relief when a contraction came, and could no longer talk through them.  Husband was still unsure, so we made a deal that if they stayed steady in the car, he would call his parents.

We drove to the hospital, and arrived a little after midnight.  When we arrived at the labor and delivery desk, they said that they would be assigning us to the last bed available, but would check me before registering me, because it was a busy night.  I made it to the room, changed into the hospital gown and waited to be examined.  Upon examining me, the nurse chuckled and said, “Yeah, you’re six centimeters, you’re not going anywhere.”

This was a big surprise, of course.  I had spent most of the night doubting whether I was actually in labor, now here I was dilated to six.  The nurse started the lengthy process of checking me in, and warned me to tell her if the pain started getting worse or if I needed to bear down, since I was clearly progressing quickly.  Before we were even halfway through the registration, my pain was getting worse, and she checked me again, and I had dilated another centimeter.

At this point, I was getting a little panicky.  I knew I wanted an epidural, and I could see the window closing.  I knew my babies are big and they deliver fast and, to be quite honest, I don’t want to associate the birth of my children with horrendous screaming pain if I don’t have to.  Anyway, the nurse got the anesthesiologist in right away, before I had even signed the consent form for the epidural.  I was able to feel lots of pressure, but no pain, which is really cool, because I could feel my contractions, they just didn’t hurt.  

Despite epidurals slowing things down, everything progressed pretty quickly after that.  Over the course of the next 60-90 minutes, my mom arrived at the hospital and I dilated all the way to 10.  The nursing staff tried to reach my doctor, but it was a holiday weekend and they had no luck, but I had met her partner who was on call, and was energetic and capable and had a warm bedside manner.

When it was time to push, things went really quickly.  I managed to deliver her within the span of two contractions.  I could feel lots of pressure and I could see the doctor’s face bunched up in concentration.  Turns out the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s shoulder, so the doctor was carefully maneuvering her as I delivered to prevent any complications.  Whatever she did, it worked, and our little girl was born at 3:10am. 

The afterbirth went quickly and the doctor told me there was no need to provide any stitches, as once again, I hadn’t torn.  Husband cut the cord and they laid the baby on my chest as they cleaned her up a bit.  The hospital has a new policy of an hour of skin to skin contact before weighing the baby or anything like that.  It was really nice, because in the past, I had to ask for that, but this time it was just a given.

Baby girl had an apgar score of 9/10, and was pink and plump.  After her first big cry, she settled into these little squeaks and snuffles, she sounded just like an ewok, which was incredibly adorable at the time, though would later require lavage, as she had taken in a lot of amniotic fluid on her way out.  She latched on almost immediately, and stayed there until our hour of skin to skin time was up.  The nurse finished cleaning her up, and weighed her, she weighed 7 lbs 14 oz, which makes her the tiniest of all my babies.

By the time she was all clean and swaddled and returned to me, it was 5:30 in the morning.  My mom took a turn holding her, and headed home, and we were transferred to the mother-baby unit of the hospital.  Things were still busy in labor and delivery.  Our nurse thanked us for letting her be part of what she called a beautiful birth experience.  Turns out she had been on a cesarean streak and hadn’t been part of a vaginal birth in several weeks.  I think in my sleep deprived state, I may have thanked her for not sharing that before the birth.

We stayed at the hospital just for one day.  Baby and I were both doing well, but the in-laws were in over their heads with the three boys, so we headed home.  Surprisingly, everything has been easy except for breastfeeding.  I thought with six years experience, it would be no big deal, but that’s not the case.  My supply is fine, but baby girl’s latch is extremely shallow.  She retracts her tongue to the back of her mouth more often than not.  I’m having a really hard time catching the right position, with her tongue fully extended.  The result is bruised and bleeding nipples.  She only cries when she’s hungry, so I rush it and give her the breast when she gets frustrated because she sounds so heartbroken.  

Other than that, I can’t get over how mellow she is.  All she needs is some milk in her belly and a snuggle and she is happy as a lamb.  I’ve been holding her all day and all night and enjoying her newborn smell and her soft skin and her little eyes that look all around when she’s awake, and flutter gently closed when she is sleepy.  The boys are all in love with her, even A, who took three days to acknowledge her and now wants to hold her all the time and keeps trying to bring her toys and water and all the things that he himself loves.  If this is indeed our last baby, then I can say that we are truly fortunate to be having such a wonderful experience of it so far.

❤️❤️❤️A year of being a legal family. A year of not worrying about DSS deciding to move her. A year of not having to write down every medication I gave her (or every time I put hydrocortisone on her eczema). A year of not having to justify every decision I made, update someone on every doctor’s appointment, having someone come and see her bedroom or ask about her weight and growth percentage. A year of not having get permission to have her spend the weekend with someone else or to go away on vacation.

A year of peace of mind.

I told Llama her story again tonight. The story about how I loved her and worried about her before I met her when I first knew her mom was pregnant. How I fell in love the moment I saw her. How her first mom loved her. How a year ago she gained some names as I changed her name and added to her birth name. How we love her so much and she makes every day better.

See You On The Other Side💙💙💙

well, the surgery is tomorrow morning! My doctor will be attempting to remove the tumor fully. This specific surgery usually lasts 3-5 hours, needless to say, I will be missing from tumblr for a little bit. I am trying to fill up my queue and I’ll hopefully be posting and giving an update by the weekend! I don’t like saying this sappy stuff, but I really want to hug each of you that have had my back up to this exact moment. I have been uplifted and made stronger by so so many of you. I’ve met so many amazing people and even gained a best friend through this journey. You all truly changed my life, for the absolute better, and i can’t wait to make many many many more memories with you all. I love you, thank you.

💙 Áfram Latibær 💙

The Dark | 1

SUMMARY : Reader is a resident of Peninsula Behavioral Health following an extended period of abuse; recalling a fear, a dream, and then finding peace and truth in both. Enjoy.

Warning: TRIGGERS. Mentions of rape | suicide | self harm | depression


A/N : I have written fiction for the DT fandom for some time now, but I’ve just been too wimpy to actually make my own blog and do it. I have plenty just sitting in drafts on my laptop, and I hope to write many more at request. I am comfortable with writing smut, dark plots like this one or other prompts, but I DO NOT condone Grethan fanfiction and I WILL NOT write it. I do write for Ethan as well. Feel free to follow or submit a request!

Originally posted by i-kill-u-in-my-mind

I remember vividly the first time I saw the G-unit of Peninsula. I would’ve been fascinated with the haunting art work cluttering the walls if I hadn’t been so psychotic then. It smelled like floral perfume and vanilla, but the unmistakable stench of bleach clung to the air like chemical clouds. There’d been a girl hunched down with oddly cut black hair framing her shoulders as she sat hugging her legs like a statue. I learned that was normal behavior among some of the residents.

Three months I’d been here with no end in the foreseeable future. I was sixteen and state law mandated I be held here against my will until I became of age. I’d also learned to get used to the bleach stench, and I’d responded virtually well to therapy and medication. I spent most time sketching likewise haunting pictures like the ones I’d seen my first day and I even participated in the ridiculous antics we all like to play on the staff.

They are good people, the staff, and my comrades, they are even better. Although I detest being forced to stay in a mental institution, they make it worth the while. We make blanket forts in the common room and watch Disney movies, dye each other’s hair at midnight when we are supposed to be in bed, and we hold each other when we feel that uncontrollable insanity start to creep in.

Each of us have our own mental illnesses, our own stories that bent and broke us and brought us here, I am no different. I never speak about it openly like some of the others, still guarded in therapy with prominent psychiatrists and therapists. I wear it on my body for all to see though, it doesn’t take but a look to see why I’ve truly been brought here.

Alice down the hall had made me beautiful yarn bracelets to wear over my wrists, although they are much too thin to cover the ragged and deep scars. They are here and there and everywhere, but the great part was that no one asks me why or how, they wear them too.

We have been wrangled up after breakfast to head for the common room for group therapy. Exercises like breathing techniques and how to express your feelings, we always crack jokes through the awkward parts and pretend we’re normal.

There is someone waiting there today apart from our group therapist and staff workers. He is sitting in a chair facing the back of the room, his foot bouncing on the white tile. He wears a hat, which isn’t unusual, as the staff lets us dress and do as we please for the most part. I can’t see his face, but I can see the golden earring dangle from his ear.

Like always the therapist makes us sit in different chairs beside different people, placing us where he wants us as we whisper and tease each other. Our therapist, Drew, directs me to the seat across from this newcomer, placing me there quickly as he returns to the rowdy group to settle them. I didn’t watch my best crazy friend Alessa refusing to sit next to the corridor’s flirt Quentin, I regard this new boy instead.

His eyes are glued to the floor but I can tell he is handsome right away. His eyebrows are dark and very deep set, his lips rose red, and I truly believe the odd earring suits him somehow although it would look ghastly on anyone else. His rough hands gripped tightly together and I could see that under his young and manly pretense, he is shaking like a leaf. And just like every other person I have encountered, my mind asks the same question it always had, why is he here? Then I remember that no one knows exactly why I’m here yet, apart from the head psychiatrist, and I realize that’s his own business.

Even when everyone is seated and somehow quiet for once, this boy still hasn’t lifted his eyes from the tile. Drew begins his usual boring introduction, explaining we will be sharing our biggest fear. Quentin decides to make some stupid joke about being scared of Alessa’s morning breath, and I chuckle nervously, I’d always been able to dodge serious inquiries during group therapy, but this seems to be inescapable now.

Drew hushes everyone sternly, but with his genuine smile, and points to Alice beside him to begin. Each person down the line has a fear that is reasonable; Quentin is afraid of guns, having seen his father shoot himself in the head when he was twelve. Alessa is terrified of strangers, she was raped by a man who had followed her home after a night to the cinema with her friends.

It isn’t missed that Drew skips over this newcomer, his head still hangs low and hands still knotted together. Things are going well, everyone has been able to proclaim aloud their deepest fears, but I am cautious when it comes around to me.

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” I look to the ceiling in contemplation, Drew sighing softly, his gentle tone slowing the racing of my heart. “You can trust me, you can trust us. What do you fear, Y/N?”

I don’t look to anyone but the young man across from me, simply because he is the only one not looking back. I stare deeply at the dark line running the hem of his sweats, willing myself to stop being weak all of the time.

Nine. It was my least favorite number.

I’d enjoyed the age of four, the year I’d finally been granted a daddy. I hadn’t understood then that’d I already had one, a shit stain of a man who’d cared more for his drugs than his own blood. Doctor Anthony Callahan, neurosurgeon for Johns Hopkins Medical, my mother had met him on vacation in the Caribbean while I stayed home with my Aunt. I remember at six, I’d begged my mother often to tell me the story of how she’d met Daddy, and I still remember the twinkle in her eye.

He was everything to me. He kissed the boo-boos and dried my eyes when I thought I saw shadows in the dark.

The dark.

I had loved him so dearly, my Daddy.

Nine, nine fucking years old.

My mother had a habit of taking a weekend every month to fly off to some city across the country, enjoying wine and shopping with her girlfriends; and she was able to, Daddy made excellent money. I looked forward to those weekends, because it meant Daddy and I would do all sorts of fun things.

Mini golf, horse back riding, the amusement park; and every wish I had, he granted.

Unfortunately, this particular weekend on Saturday morning, he’d reluctantly called the nanny to come sit me since an emergency surgery was necessary at the hospital. He kissed my forehead nine times, once for each year of my life, promising he’d be back by dinner, and then he’d take me somewhere nice and then ice cream.

I’d spent the day playing checkers and card games with the older lady, she’d even braided my hair with tiny flowers and picked out a pretty blue dress for me to wear, Daddy’s favorite color.

“He will love it.” I’d smiled wide as her wrinkled fingers rubbed my shoulders in a motherly way, giving me a warm smile.

Minutes turned into hours, and it was nine o'clock with no Daddy in sight. So the nanny had dried my tears and tried her hardest to coax me out of the little dress for bed. But I’d refused, telling her that Daddy always came in to give me a goodnight kiss, and he’d see how pretty I was even then. So she’d smiled fondly and let me lay in my dress, the sound of the crickets from the open window lulling me to sleep.

I don’t remember what time it was, and I don’t want to. I do remember however, so profoundly, having a dream of running in a wide open field of wheat. I was older, but I knew it was me by the dark birth mark on the back of my calve. I was hand in hand with a man with dark hair, and I could hear our laughter so loud and free. He twirled me, and I saw my face with the most beautiful smile I think I could’ve ever had. I remember believing it was Daddy running with me in that field, sometimes I still believe it was.

A dip in the bed woke me, right before this man was ready to turn and face me. I longed to know, to be sure it was Daddy, but this disturbance interrupted me.

“Honey, it’s your Daddy.”

And then I didn’t care about a stupid dream, because Daddy was there and that was all that mattered.

I sat up in the bed, still half asleep but pushing the messy hairs of my braid down from their chaos, turning to him with a bright smile and high tinkling voice. “Look Daddy, Mary Ellen braided my hair. And look! We found this dress, isn’t it pretty? I just knew you would love it, it’s blue, your favorite color.”

His dry hand reached out to touch softly to the fabric on my shoulders, and it was stupid for me to mention, he couldn’t even see me in the dark. “It is very pretty, Y/N, you sure do look pretty for daddy.”

I couldn’t see him when his hand trailed lightly down my arm to grasp my wrist, placing his other hand on my chest to push me down into the plush mattress. I didn’t think much of it, he was probably tired and wanted me to go back to sleep.

And I couldn’t see him when he grabbed both my wrists, thrusting them harshly above my head, so hard it pushed my knuckles into to the headboard with a hard crack. I winced, assuming it was only an accident, Daddy would’ve never hurt me on purpose.

But I was wrong, I was so very, very wrong.

And it happened so quickly, and it didn’t matter that I screamed so long my throat was raw, no one was there to hear me. And I couldn’t see him.

I couldn’t see him when he ripped my dress, or when he’d ripped my princess panties, my favorite pair.

I couldn’t see what he did to me that night in the dark, or any of the other nights he’d done the same.

But I could feel it, I could feel the hurt. It ripped me apart, physically and mentally.

My Daddy, my precious and perfect Daddy; he was never as perfect as I thought.

And I could still feel him, even when I couldn’t see him.

And it haunted me, just like the dark.

I swallow the bile rising in my throat, the long and intense silence bringing this boy to look me in the eyes with wonder. He is beautiful, the most beautiful and singular person I have ever seen.

I feel a little braver now, his hazel eyes boring into mine, with no intent to harm or deceive, only wonder. “The dark. I’m afraid of what happens in the dark.”

It is silent again, everyone taking in my first true confession. Drew, being the wonderful therapist he is, moves on quickly and harmlessly, finally bringing to light this boy who is still staring me dead in the eyes.

“G-unit, I want you to meet Grayson.”

No ones attention is on me anymore, but his, his eyes do not falter a moment. Everyone simultaneously greets Grayson with a hello, he still stares back at me.

“Grayson will be with us for a while, and I know he’s going to be a great addition to our sessions. I’ve heard great things about him, and I’m excited to see how he grows.” Drew then regards Grayson, and only then do those hazel eyes depart from mine. “And Grayson, what are you afraid of?”

He’s very nonchalant, but I can feel that it’s forced, that he’s trying so very hard to seem strong about this. “It used to be losing my brother, but I’m not so sure what I fear anymore.”

And he still stays nonchalant as Drew begins discussing how controlling fear can be, but I don’t listen to him, because I’m too intently focusing on that fear I still see in Grayson’s eyes.

It’s pouring outside, and the thunder is unbearably loud. Most of us don’t care for storms, so we huddle up in the common room in front of the old tv, giving into Alessa and watching The Little Mermaid for the seventh time this week.

The wool blanket is thick and heavy over me, and I’m content in this moment, surrounded by people that I have grown to love in my own backwards way. There is one resident of G-unit missing, but no one comments on this, Grayson has made it clear he wants no friends. We leave him be, we all have taken our own time to open up to each other.

Two months and I have still never said a word to him, although I pretend in my head that I have. I can’t deny that I have a tiny crush on him, well, a big one. The pang of jealousy I feel when Alessa smiles at him makes me want to punch her right in the teeth, but I don’t mention my feelings, she’d only either tease me or tell him.

I’ve watched him read by the window, and how he grips his hair when he’s frustrated, which is often it seems. He always has ice cream after dinner, and I even heard him last week yelling someone’s name down the hall in his sleep. He intrigues me, and I can’t help but to spend most of my useless time thinking about him.

I’m laughing as everyone has begun singing Kiss the Girl just like Sebastian, Drew walks past the door way and hushes them, but they only sing louder. He shakes his head and keeps walking.

I’m happy in this moment, that is, until the tv flickers after a sudden bolt of lightening flashes from outside the window.

I’m no longer laughing, my throat feels as if it’s closing right then and there. No one realizes my sudden tenseness, and I don’t say anything.

I calm as minutes pass and it seems that this one flicker is all that will be, but another loud crash of lightening bolts from outside and it’s here, the dark.

I don’t hear the gasps, or the subtle scream that Alice belts, I am in fight or flight mode. The wool blanket falls into a puddle on the floor that I can’t see, and I bolt. I know G-unit well enough by now to know my way around without sight, but the fear gripping my heart leaves me unable to comprehend anything.

My fingers trace the walls, my breathing ragged, and I realize I’m crying. I feel like I’m going insane and I have no idea which door is mine since I’m counting. I feel I’m close, if I can only get there and get that flashlight in my bed drawer, I’ll be okay, I’ll be able to see.

I’m so close I can breathe just a little easier and I get a boost of adrenaline, launching myself forward to a sprint only to be grasped by the shoulders and pulled quickly into another room.

I freeze, I cannot move, and I cannot see. This unknown person is still grasping my shoulders tightly, and it comes all at once. These hands are on my shoulders, but I feel hands elsewhere, and for a moment I think Daddy is here, he’s come to find me; but then a soft whisper makes my knees shake and I nearly fall to the floor.

“It’s okay, it’s just me. It’s just me, Y/N, Grayson.”

I exhale loudly, but still on edge, because no matter how beautiful this boy is, I still don’t know him; but I know what happens in the dark.

I try to speak, I try to lift my arms to push him away, but they’re jelly and I’m powerless. His hands release my shoulders, and for a moment I’m suspended in darkness again and terrified, before he places them on my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I-I just know you’re afraid of the dark.”

I swallow even though my throat is prickly and dry, my voice is hoarse and sounds nothing like I’ve ever heard when I speak. “How did you know where I was?”

I feel him shift in front of me, the slick sound of his tongue wetting his lips. “I could smell your perfume.”

I blush, and he can’t see me, and I can’t see him, and for once I am thankful for the dark. His hands pulls me downward gently to the rug on the floor, and as if he knows, he leaves his hands on my crossed knees so I know he’s there.

“My brother was always afraid of the dark.”

His voice is like honey, so deep and smooth that I could just lather myself in it. “Was he?”

I hear a small chuckle and I smile despite still feeling uneasy. “I used to tease him for it, turning off the lights while he was showering. He’d always get me back somehow though.”

The air is tense then as I feel his demeanor change. I can’t sense a smile from him, only that same nonchalant attitude. I know that I told myself before that it was his business, but I long to understand who this brother was and what so tragically must have happened to him for Grayson to be in this dark room with me now. “What happened?”

His hand involuntarily grip the fabric of my sweats, but I’m not intimidated. He’s feeling the things he doesn’t want to, but I know that he needs to. “He was always better than me at everything. He could catch a football better than me, do an equation better than me, he was my twin, but I still always looked up to how sturdy and consistent he was. I-I didn’t know what he was facing, and-d I-I,” he takes a long and shuddering breath, “he never told me he was depressed, and I was too stupid to see it. Looking back now, the signs, they were all there, just hidden very well.” I feel his tears drip onto my hands that now cover his, and I can’t see his face or how much pain he’s in, but I can feel it. All over me. “We’d had a really important game that Friday, the best team in New Jersey, and Coach was pushing us real hard to beat them. Practice every morning at 5, we practiced during study break, by the end of the day he was exhausted. He was really quiet, more so than usual, but he played the best game he ever had.” I can literally feel the gleam off of his smile as he recalls this, and I’m entranced by this tale he’s giving me. “We were down by a field goal with fourteen seconds left in the game, right on the thirty yard line, so close to winning. Coach was screaming at us, his face all red, and normally we’d be snickering secretly over this, but he was still so quiet. Coach had given him the go ahead to run long and catch the ball in the inzone, it was our only chance, and I remember hugging him hard and telling him he had it, that I had his back. I always had his back.” I’m so wrapped up in this, gripping his hands hard but he doesn’t falter. “The ball snaps and my adrenaline is racing, and when you’re playing ball it’s like another world, it happens so fast and all I can see is white jerseys and tackles, but then I see him in mid air, that ball wrapped in his hands and he’d done it, he’d won our ticket to state. Everyone was wild and waiting for us when we stepped out of the locker room, some of the cheerleaders came and told me about a party that was happening right after, and we’d just won, of course I was going to celebrate.” His hands turn palm up as he grasps mine and squeezes them roughly as he lets out a roar of frustration. His tears are back, and harder, and they’re not the only tears hitting my hands now. “He was so passive about it, being the good brother he is and assuring me he was just too tired to deal with it and to go on without him. And I did. I fucking went because I was selfish, and there was this girl I’d been chasing for months that was going to be there, and I just knew I was going to get her then. I had some drinks, like everyone else, and it turns out I did end up bagging this girl and stealing a kiss and winning her number. I was pumped, I felt like nothing was stopping me and I just had to get home and tell him.”

He starts sobbing now, falling into me like a small child who has scraped their knee and needs coddled. I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me, and we can’t see each other, but I can feel that he needs me, he needs this. I grip onto him as my tears are staining my cheeks and falling into his hair, and I don’t like this part that’s coming and neither does he. Just like a vcr tape, let’s rewind back to the part we like and disregard the ones that we don’t. But life, it doesn’t work like that, and that’s how we ended up here, we couldn’t rewind. “I was ignorant and drove home, my parents were gone and my sister had been away at college for a month, it was just him inside and all the lights were off. It was so unlike him. I told you, he was afraid of the dark. It didn’t matter if he was passed out asleep or in the middle of the day, there was always a lamp that stayed on in that bedroom of his. I felt odd, and it wasn’t just those drinks I’d had, but something didn’t feel right. And I mean that literally, like inside me, I didn’t feel the same. I remember yelling for him from the foyer, nothing.” He grips my shirt, his body shaking as he clings to me for his life it seems. “That walk up those stairs was damning. I didn’t know, but at the same time, I did. He wasn’t in his bed, in fact, I searched the house over and he wasn’t anywhere. I started panicking, he’s a man, but he was still young and what if someone had done something to him? I was just near calling the police when I noticed the back door was open slightly, just enough for a piece of crinkled paper to stick in between. I got hope then that this would be one of those times he’d get me back for teasing him, but that letter, it was far from a joke. It was scribbled and hard to read, but I got the gist by the end. And when I looked up in fear that he acted out exactly what he’d written in that letter, he was there.” He was pulling so harshly at my thin shirt that I was sure that it would rip. I couldn’t process anything but these overwhelming emotions that I could feel radiating off of him into me. It was anger, and guilt, and hurt all in one. “That tree we’d climbed a million times. Mom would scream at us to get down, but we’d sit in it all day, sometimes taking things to throw at our sister from the top. He fell off when we were twelve and broke his arm, he had the sickest cast at school and everybody was jealous. He hung there from it, that tree, just hanging there.”

It was so silent, I could hear nothing but his ragged breathing and gasps for air. “I’m so sorry.”

He pushes off of me suddenly and the atmosphere changes again. He’s angry, not at me, but at himself. “Don’t be sorry for me, Y/N. It’s my god damn fault Ethan’s dead. If I had of paid a little bit more attention to him than football and girls then he’d be alive. I’m the reason he’s fucking dead! I am! I deserve to be rotting in the fucking ground, not him. But here I am still breathing and living when I don’t fucking deserve it!”

I push him back harder, his back falling against the edge of his bed as I get as close to his face as I can. It is so dark, but I’m not afraid. “You better not ever say that again. You deserve life, you deserve peace. He didn’t leave like that for you to feel this way! He left because he was sick and he couldn’t help what was happening to him, and neither could you. I didn’t know your brother, and I don’t even know you, but I do know that he would’ve never wanted you to blame yourself.”

He edges even closer, yelling in my face as he lets out his demons on me, and I take them. The dark doesn’t matter to me anymore, what matters is this beautiful human being realizing his purpose out of this. “I could’ve found him help! Or talked to him more, I could’ve done something! Can you imagine what it’s like to know that the person you’ve been connected to from the very beginning of life felt he needed to die and pursued it? I can’t imagine what he saw, what he felt, what he endured. I should’ve saved him.” His head buries into my neck as I feel all of his body fluids pool there, the spit from his open mouth, the tears, the snot, and I didn’t care. “Why couldn’t I save him, Y/N? Why couldn’t I have saved him?”

I hold him tightly as he melts into emotion. It is cathartic and I can feel that tension washing away from him. “We can’t always save people from themselves, you know. They have to do it. You didn’t know, Grayson. You didn’t know he was hiding that all away, and he didn’t want you to or he would’ve told you. Life, it is so perplexing and fucking hurtful, and I wonder why things like this happen. And I don’t know. I don’t know why, but this is the way things are. But you have to understand that he wouldn’t have wanted you to be like this. He isn’t in pain anymore, he is somewhere happy and perfect like he always should’ve been.”

He is calm and quiet and soaking in my words, I know. I’m no speaker, but I hope even one thing I said makes a difference. Who knows how to fix broken people?

He fiddles with the draw strings of my sweat pants as we sit in silence in the dark. I feel peace that I haven’t felt in ages, and how ironic it is that it’s happening now. He sounds like a scolded child when he asks me, “why are you here? Truly here?”

I pull myself backward as we lay against each other on the scratchy rug. Not even Alessa knows why I’m really here, but I feel I owe it to him for everything he’s felt just now. “People are not always good, no matter how perfectly we see them. I know the dark very well, and I have for a very long time. It hides things in the shadows, things kept secret and locked away, and I was a secret.” He’s tracing patterns on my arms as I stare into nothing, normally I would be hyperventilating just existing in the dark, but his hands are reassuring and I’m okay like this. “I had a Daddy once, it’s a well known truth that little girls love their daddies, and I was no different. I trusted him, I believed in him, I worshipped him, because he was always so good to me. But daddies don’t touch their daughters the way he touched me, and I guess after so long, I didn’t want to be touched anymore. He was holding a gun to my head when my mother walked in, and sometimes, I wish he’d pulled that trigger. I just want to shed my skin and throw it away, it doesn’t matter how much I wash or scrub, he’s there. He’s always there somewhere, in the dark when I can’t see and I’m terrified. I’m terrified of what might happen when the lights are off and I can’t see, I never know if he’s waiting there or not, like he use to. I got so tired of feeling disgusting in my own body that I trashed every inch of myself that I could, maybe if I looked horrible, he wouldn’t touch me anymore. But it never mattered what I did or said, he was always there waiting, he’s still out there waiting. My mother refuses to accept it, she chooses to ignore the obvious truth that slaps her right in the face. She sent me here to heal my apparent habitual lying and self harm while she still sleeps in the same bed as that bastard and gives it up to him.” I feel kind of insane at this point, because not once have I ever so blatantly told the truth like this out loud to anyone. I’m laughing and I can feel him ease up on his elbow as he hovers over me. “I’ll have to face him one day, and I think I’d rather die than ever do that. I’ll never have peace or happiness, because who in their fucking right mind would ever want to love someone whose been touched the way I have? How can I fucking continuously open up my mouth and explain this again and again to different faces for them to turn around and decide this is too much for them. It’s a joke really, how fucking sad it must appear to be as frail and weak as someone like me.”

I can feel that he’s trying to decipher this information, and I expect him to sit up and exclaim that this drama is far too much for him too. He doesn’t though, he only strokes my hair and does something I’ve longed for anyone else to do, he takes what I said and believes it and he doesn’t make me relive it by giving out details. He only whispers to me that I’m beautiful and that only the luckiest man in the world would ever have the pleasure of giving me happiness. “The hands that have touched you do not define you. Your life will be far beyond anything you can imagine right now. You will be happy, I’m sure of it.”

I’m blushing and smiling and that half content happiness back in the common room is nothing in comparison to this exploding feeling in my chest right now. I’ve forgotten it’s dark, and I find I rather like laying on this awful rug with no sight, only feeling his soft hands and his emotions. “I do hold out hope just a little. I had a dream once, and I’ve never had it again, although I can recall it like it truly happened. It was so real I could feel it happening inside me and not just in my head. I always used to think it was him I was running and laughing with in that field, but I’m not so sure of that anymore. I was smiling and laughing, and it all seemed to real to just be a dream.”

He tenses beside me and I fear I’ve said something completely wrong. He pushes up on both forearms, leaning down so far that I feel his breath fanning over my face. “In a field? In a field of wheat?”

I scrunch my eyebrows together because I recall never mentioning anything about the field being of wheat. “Wait, how did you-”

And I don’t get to finish, because his lips come crashing down onto mine. I’ve never been kissed, ever. All of those times that monster touched me, not once did he kiss me, and for that I am glad. Simply for, now Grayson will be the first of one of my favorite things, and its electricity from my hair to my toes. He is gentle and reassuring before pulling back, the lights buzzing on, and they’re so bright that we both squeeze our eyes shut in pain.

He doesn’t bother with giving either of us time to adjust, pulling me up by my hands and pressing his forehead to mine. “I had that same dream, only it happened right after Ethan died. I have had it every night since then, and it has been the only thing that makes me feel anything but sadness. I’ve spent hours, days, trying to decipher if it was showing me something, or if my mind was only giving me shit. It was you. You were the woman I was holding, Y/N.”

Grayson turned 18 three weeks before I did, and in that time he had found a quaint studio apartment to snag with the state’s money above a book store right down the street from the grocery store he landed a job at. For those three weeks he called me every night at 7:30, excitedly telling me every little thing he’d done, seen, or bought for our apartment. And every night he would tell me he loved me so sweetly before promising the same thing each time, that on my birthday he’d be there bright and early to fetch me.

My mother had called twice the night before I was meant to depart, leaving a message with the desk attendant that I was welcome to come back home anytime, so long as I apologized. I never returned her call, and I never planned to.

That morning, Grayson held his promise right on time, standing in the foyer of the complex with bright eyes and a happy smile. I rushed to grab him tightly, missing his scent and his strong embrace those three weeks he was away from me. He grabs my hand and exclaims, “you’re a free woman!” And we giggle all the way down the street to the bus stop.

There was nothing more beautiful to me than Grayson. How he took all of my jumbled mess and held it together like it was his place to. That year we spent in the G-unit was spent falling in love with each other every day over books and strolls through the hallways. In sly looks during group therapy, and cuddling on the couch while everyone sang Kiss the Girl just like Sebastian. We’d grown, just like Drew hoped we would, and we still faltered, a lot actually. He missed Ethan, and we both knew he always would; and I still couldn’t let go of what had transpired in my life, but his loving hands proved that someone could touch me out of love and admiration. There was never a moment I had to question if he loved me, he showed me by every smile and touch and word that he could give. We were broken, and I assumed everyone kind of is in their own way, and life is so unfair most of the time that I couldn’t comprehend how I could ever truly live it. But the one thing I did know was that I could take on anything with Grayson by my side, even the dark.

Death Walking

I met death, walking. She stepped
from behind a bush, a spaniel by her ankles
black with red eyes weeping
tugging on the leash in my direction.

The dog was named Honor–in honor
of the hound that died after two years
of sleeping by death’s bedridden side,
she told me, and she didn’t cry.

What do you say when you speak with death?
Do you ask about her family?
The husband who left? Or the bet
that she made with the doctor that
she’d live past the weekend, moving home
to an empty brother’s house–
he fought in the war, but didn’t
die in the war, but he’s dead now,
and his house is empty. Do you talk about
the taxes due last week or the management
of the apartment complex? She was upset
there was no dog park here. I didn’t say
they’d build one next year.

The closest I have been to death:
stroking the brushed-to-shine coat
of her beloved pet. She had to go–
Honor hadn’t eaten yet.

Little Swift Part 19 (last part)

A great many years down the road…..


“I’ve got it mom! Trust me, please.” I told my mom as she tried to interfere with my packing for the hundredth time.

“I know, I know…. It’s just….” Mom said, standing in the doorway of my bedroom leaning on the doorframe.

“I know mom, it’s hard for you to see me so grown up and all that stuff.” I said, rolling my eyes slightly, “But it’s not like I’ll be gone forever. It’s only until winter break. And you and dad have snazzy jets so I know you won’t go two-week without visiting or getting me home.”

“Well…. We’ll miss you that’s all.” Mom said, her voice wavering slightly as I turned to look at her. She looked smaller as she stood there looking at me.

Keep reading

The Weekend

Wow, honestly…. What a weekend!! I didn’t expect this.

I will start from the beginning. I went down to LI (long Island) to visit my Doctor. We met 1,5 years ago and we been “dating”, he is not my sugar daddy, but for any means he is not poor. He is athletic and handsome. I know him very well, we went on vacations and I have met his family, and best friends. He never been married and don’t have kids. He is totally ok with us dating and our age difference. He is in his early 50s. He has beautiful house and lovely dog. I care for this men and have fun every time I come down to visit him. So we been on and off for a year ad half, but we never been official, just we know we are dating and there is no drama or stress. He takes care of me and we enjoy each others company.

So I haven’t seen him for 2 months now, and I texted his Wednesday to check up on his, see what is up and how is things going. Well, I always knew that he is successful doctor with his own practice and special treatment he has so things been great for past year or so. But this blew mine and his mind as well. 

His living room. 

So his best friend, let’s call him “musician”, have been in music industry for ages, I mean he knows whole Hollywood and all music crew, big names. He told me stories how Kim become popular and etc. So he is living between LA, Florida, NY and Canada now. So, more about Canada, Musician have a project in Canada with one Billionaire (WITH A B) in Canada, its ongoing project and will take some time to get it done. About two months ago this billionaire talked about special treatment he wants to do in Canada, Florida and Bahamas, open a wellness centers with it and run it. So my Doctor actually the best in USA for it, so musician told billionaire that Doctor is specialized on it and so now Doc is on it. This Billionaire is so interested in this project and so excited. So Doc went up there to Canada to see him and talk. It was rare that this guy would give 5 min to someone as much as busy he is. He spends whole day with Doc, that was unusual already. This Billionaire, lets call him “Mr. Sir”. He has hones all over the world. Have 7 private jets and 400 cars, I am not shitting you guys. When doc went up there, Mr. Sir gave his Lambo with top down for the weekend. He lives in huge place in Canada, like sizes of the area is HUGE.

So now, I am flying in Friday, don’t know anything about it. Doc sends his driver to pick me up in JFK, while Doc is taking pilot lessons, he is thinking get small jet too now as he could fly himself.
I’m getting there, starving, so we go to nice Italian place. And he starts telling me about this Mr. Sir and whole project. So I am like wow, that is great. But then he is like: “oh Mr. Sir and his buddy flying in tomorrow for the procedure” (the one all this project is about) , I am like okaaaay , he goes: “they are flying in on his private jet in the morning and leaving around 4-5 pm the same day”, I am like wow, this guy will just casually fly down to NY to visit DOC and get procedure. Ok, so Doc asked if I wanted to come in the morning but it was too early so I decided to sleep in, so around 12-1 pm he called me and said that they coming to house and will go to the lunch to the yacht club doc belongs to. So I just got out of shower, really quick making my face a piece of gold and putting on DVF dress on and some pumps, casual but with class. 

 He especially told me to be casual, knowing me and my dress code where I dress up all the time haha. So they got here and GUYS, like seriously never in the world by meeting him on the street I would think he is Billionaire, like this guy is so humble, and down to earth its crazy. So we went on lunch, it was nice, talked about this and that, said that his son got married in Bahamas and it was amazing, spend $1MM on wedding. Then we just talked about how if something supposed to be, it will happen. So Mr. Sir was like: I was looking for house in Bahamas for years, and it couldn’t fit my desires, no deck for yacht, too small yard, etc. And here it is, this year he found perfect house that cost his about 20 $MM. And he casually invites me and Doc to his house, I am in my head like fuck yeah I will go! So we ate, great guys, very funny, and very simple, no idea that Mr. Would be billionaire. He is going to smoke cigars with PUTIN (I don’t like the guy) but fucking Putin?  Crazy. So we drove them back to their private jet that they flew in to this small private airport in long island, so it was very convenient. Guys, the jet, I mean I have never seen private jets in my life and been able to come close and meet pilots and just experience all this is amazing. Never in my life I thought I would be able to meet people like this. I am always will be humble with sugaring just because of this experience. I am so hoping go to Mr. Sir’s house in Bahamas with Doc, that would be amazing, meet his family, get closer, and you never know what I can get out of there. Job, career, good connections and etc. I just hope so. This meeting and experience just made my weekend, already.  

So we get back with Doc to his house and then I dress up and we took his new baby Lamborghini 2015 avendator to the restaurant, and I got to drive it. This is second “boyfriend” I have that own Lamborghini and I just love to ride in it, and Doc like to speed so its super fun! Came back from dinner home, watched some TV and then I gave him a full body massage and he passed out. Today, We got up, I made breakfast for both of us, this is only men I would make breakfast for, just because. Then he went to the gym downstairs, yeah he has his own spacy gym in the house. Then he came up, I already showered and he hop on and then we had first sex for the whole weekend, other two days we were too tired. So right after that I asked him if he wanted to go shopping. So we went got him IPad, then all me haha got wireless headphones for the gym, cloth for the fall for work and casual from J. Crew and got fall boots from Coach, they are babies for everyday and new perfume from Burberry, amazing smell. So, it was already late, I had to pack and get ready to fly back home. So we got back and I few out. Typing this text in the plane actually.   

So that was my amazing weekend! It was fun and so eventful! Doc is flying there next Sunday, so hopefully I keep in touch with Doc and it will work out just perfect and will benefit me  


Shalkaverses collide part II: @natalunasans and my Alisons and their girlfriends

I visited @natalunasans over last weekend. After our Shalka Doctors and Masters met each other, our Shalka Alisons met and had a picnic with their girlfriends. @natalunasans’ dolls are on the left, mine on the right. My Alison’s gf is Bill Potts. @natalunasans‘ Alison’s gf is Levonah, an original character. @natalunasans’ Hot Toys Rocket tries to get the damn kids off his lawn. Shot at @natalunasans’ house with her props. Food made by @crimsongloryrose!!

The Silver Lining: Part One

Summar: The reader is not a fan of the show, but gets dragged to a convention and catches Jensen’s eye.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader
Word Count: 1855
Warnings: Just a bit of language. 

As I mentioned in the teaser, this series is based on a request from @dancingalone21; hopefully this five-part mini-series will do her request justice! 


Your name: submit What is this?

Your last name: submit What is this?

Keep reading

Reblog if you post any of the following!

Need new blogs to follow!

-The 1975
-We The Kings
-Doctor Who
-House of Cards
-Parks and Recreation
-The Vamps
-Vampire Weekend
-Chris Young
-County Music
-Pretty Little Liars
-How I Met Your Mother


This weekend, I met with the amazingly talented Alisa, who created and runs the heartwarmingly entertaining doctorpuppet series (which everyone needs to know about). We decided to join forces on SnpCht and Tumblr for a Doctor Puppet collaboration - you know, since we were both in town loving every second of the Doctor Who World Tour.

Enjoy, and be sure to add me on SC (username: mplatco) and follow her amazingly blog, doctorpuppet

Big thanks to bbcamerica @doctorwho and staff for unknowingly bringing the two of us together for this super fun collaboration!  


Two lights coming towards you and all you can do is dodge. Metal bangs on metal, the sound hurts in your ears and you want to press your hands on them.
But before you can do it, a sharp pain draws through your head.

‚I’m here, baby. You hear me?‘

‚Please (Y/N), wake up. I fucking need you.‘

‚One week. I fucking miss you so much. I love you. Wake up, please.‘

You blink confused as you open your eyes, the lamp light is too bright for them.
It’s obviously that you’re in a hospital, but you don’t know why.
The last thing you remember is your name and that you finished the college a few weeks ago.
You look to the stranger who sits in a chair and sleeps peacfully. He doesn’t seem to be a doctor with his black leather jacket.
“Sir? Excuse me. Sir?” Carefully you shake his arm and he growls quietly before he wakes up.
“(Y/N)?” He asks surprised, jumping up from the chair and wanted to kiss you.
“What are you doing? Help!” You scream hysterically, pushing him away.
“It’s me, Negan.” He explains himself.
“I don’t know you. Go away. Go away!” The door opens and a nurse comes in. “Help me, please.”
“What? I’m your fucking boyfriend.” Negan seems confused and hurt by your words.
“You need to get out of here.” The nurse says slightly in panic as she looks at your ECG. “Sir, please. You upset the poor girl.”
“No, get out of here!” She says serious.
Resigned he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him and you wince.
“I-I don’t, I don’t remember him. Was he right? Is he my boyfriend?” You ask stuttering.
“Yes, my dear. I will get the doctor.”

Tears of despair running down your face. The doctor told you that you have amnesia and he can’t tell you now if it is temporarily or forever.
Four years.
You lost four years of your life and don’t know if you’ll ever remember what happened in this time.
“Is Negan out there?” You ask the nurse who checked your pulse.
“He is.”
“Ok, I want to talk to him.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks while the nurse gets Negan.
Your heart races, but luckily you aren’t on the ECG anymore so that he doesn’t see it.
“Fuck (Y/N), I didn’t want to scare you.” Negan says as he sits down on the chair he sat the day before.
“I know, I guess. You need to help me to remember.” You whisper pleading and he nods. “Since when we, uhm, do know each other?”
“Three years and four month.” He responds, a small smile appears on his face like he remembered the day you met.
“Ok and where…”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but you need to go now. The doctor said she needs to rest, but you can come back tomorrow.”
Anger flickers in Negan’s eyes as he looks to the nurse.
“It’s ok. We talk tomorrow.” You say and put a hand on his arm to calm him down.
He nods in agreement before he leaves you alone without saying anything.

“How do you feel?” Negan asks the next day.
“Good, the doctor said I can go by the weekend.” You wouldn’t admit it, but that makes you nervous. “I guess we live together?”
“We do. But don’t fucking worry, I’ll sleep on the fucking couch.” He can’t hide the pissed off sound in his voice and you swallow hard. “I brought your photo album, thought it’d help.”
“Ehm Negan?” You ask in disbelief, the album has around 100 sides and just eight photos.
“I’m not photogenic.” He responds with a small chuckle and you laugh quietly.
On three of the photos you are alone, on the others you are together and in each of them Negan tries to bury his face in your neck.
“Were, uhm, are we a happy couple?” You ask while you look at the pictures.
“We are. Sure, we have our fuckin’ problems, but that’s normal.” Negan smiles sad, taking your hand and kisses each of your fingers.
“Paper plane.” You whisper. “We met at Paper plane.”
You don’t know why, but you were alone at the bar and the only thing you remember is Negan, sitting alone on the bar and sending you a drink and a dirty grin.
“Is, is there anything else you remember.” Excited he looks at you.
“No, sorry.”
He sighs resigned and you ask him to tell you more about your time together.
He starts with your jobs. To your surprise he’s a teacher and you work in an office. You have a tradition that you go once a month in the bar where you met. Also about the ups and downs in your relationship and that he’s mostly the reason for it.
“Ok. I think I have enough.” You smile apologizing.
“Can I kiss you? Please.” Negan pleads quietly and you nod.
His lips are soft and you close your eyes, enjoying it more than you thought.

Since two days you’re back at home and it feels strange to live with a man there you can’t remember.
In the past days you both tried everything, watching TV together, he cooked your favorite meal and telling you every detail from your relationship.
But nothing helped and it frustrates him and you.
Tonight before you went to bed you heard him cursing under the shower and how he banged against the tiling.
You felt sorry for him and that’s why you made a decision you may regret.
Quietly you stand up and taking the bathrobe from the chair before you go to the living room.
“Is everything ok?” Negan asks worried.
“Yeah.” You look to his bare chest and the black boxer he wears. “I had an idea.”
You let drop the bathrobe, standing now naked in front of him. A small groan leaves his mouth at your sight and you sit down on his lap with spreading legs.
“You fucking sure, because when we started I’ll not fucking stop.”
Instead of an answer you kiss him and move your hips against his half hard member. He conquers your mouth, letting his tongue slide over your teeth before he fights with yours. His fingers dug into the skin on your hips, forcing you to move faster and you moan as his dick getting hard and you wet.
“Sex, we had sex on the toilet in the bar.” You whisper after you broke the kiss.
“Damn fucking right.” Almost harsh he tugs your hair, distributing kisses on your throat. “More.”
Other memories flash through you.
“We both thought it was just an one night stand and one week later you mov…oh Negan.” You moan as he sucks your nipples in mouth.
“Fucking best decision of my life.” He wraps his arms around your waist and carries you to the bed. “More.”
His head disappears between your legs and you moan again as he slips his tongue inside you, swirling it around.
“You’re jealous fucker.” You nearly scream as he finds your g-spot.
He chuckles amused, sending vibrations through your core and you almost climax.
“You are too, baby.” He growls, grabbing your hips again, encouraging you to ride his tongue.
“Negan.” You cry out as your orgasm hits you.
“So fucking hot.”
Out of breath you look down to him how he licks your juice from the lips. As you look to the mirror behind him with all the photos of your old friends and classmates you suddenly remember.
The class reunion.
Negan dancing with the ‘prom queen’.
The dispute.
And then the accident.
“You fucking asshole.” You mumble shocked.
“(Y/N)?” He crawls between your legs, taking your face in his hands. “What do you remember?”
“You danced with her! Get off me!”
Surprised by your screaming he lets you go.
“(Y/N)! Fucking wait!” He yells as you run into the living room to get your bathrobe.
More and more memories flash through you, driving you crazy.
“Negan.” You whimper as you fall on the floor. “That is too much.”
“Fuck.” He hisses, pressing you against his chest. “It will be over soon, I promise.”
Silently you whimper in his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck like he did on the photos.
You don’t know how much time has passed until it’s over. All your memories are back. The whole time with Negan and you understand why he was so angry.
Your love is more intense.
“Five month ago we had a dispute, because I wanted a dog.” You mumble in Negan’s neck and he sighs relieved.
“How do you feel?” Negan kisses you on the head.
“Exhausted. Can we fuck tomorrow?” You ask amused and his chest vibrates from laughing.
“But then the whole fucking day. Listen, I’m sorry…”
“Psst, it’s ok. I love you.” You give him a soft kiss.
“I love you, too. So fucking much.”


I was bicycling along Sunset Blvd today, going from my apartment in Los Feliz to UCB Sunset when I suddenly missed New York City so deeply I had to pull over and stop for a moment.

I’ve been in LA for a year and a half and I love it. I wasn’t having regrets. It was just a surprise moment when the chemicals in my brain combined and I could suddenly remember very distinctly what it felt like to be walking along the avenue in Manhattan, feeling like the most interesting person in the world just for having the goddamn guts to live there. 

I lived in NYC for (gulp) 17 years and had several lifetimes while I was there. Most of my memories are attached to the UCB theatre, which I was involved with for the final 13 years. But oddly when I’m missing NYC my brain takes me back to the very first two years, when living there was such an exciting novelty that I would sometimes just run down the street as fast as I could, overcome with the reality that I had actually moved to New York.

My first job in NY was for a finance company in midtown. I had to be there by 6:30am, and I would take Microsoft Word documents containing financial predictions for the stock market, and I would have to format them as text documents which would accepted by then-new online financial news services. I was done by 3pm. All for a decent salary and generous benefits package. This job, although boring, made me feel safe enough to come to the city from rural New England and so I was grateful for it.

I’d get out of the subway at 6:15 am at the 50th street stop on the 1/9. The streets were still quiet at this time. You could smell all the coffee being brewed in the bagel carts, and sometimes see the newsstands opening up. I’d buy a coffee from the same guy and walk across 50th street. 

The only people up were either finance people in their suits and big thick coats OR service industry people going to work their shift cleaning/cooking etc. 

I’d see Letterman’s studio to 2 blocks up to my left, and Times Square 7 blocks down to my right. I knew where DC Comics’ and Mad Magazines’ offices were and I’d look up at them, too (they had Superman logos and thing in their windows). I also walked by Rolling Stone’s offices (2nd floor of a building on Sixth Avenue) and you could see guitars and magazine covers on the walls through their windows.

I was so excited just to know how to get around in the city. How the subway worked, where my restaurants were, where to buy clothes, etc. I was for REAL and everyone else in the world were COWARDS.

At my job, the finance jerks were jerks, which thrilled me in that they were fulfilling their stereotype. Lots of dumb dirty jokes, lots of impressively tailored suits. They were all crude (men and women) but they were also smart and capable which for me made them easy to work with. It was my first job that more than covered my rent and so I felt like the richest man in the world, even though I was the poorest guy in the building.

I’d sit at my desk and start editing the Word Docs. I had a “squawk box” which meant I could hear the morning meeting of the finance guys going over what they thought the market would do. I remember hearing the meeting the day after a big plane crash from a discount airlines Valu-Jet. The airlines guy was so mad because the company had been poised to really turn a big profit but this “one, OUTLIER of a STUPID accident” had thrown those plans into chaos.

Every time the Dow broke another 1000 points, there would be a champagne toast by the reception desk. 

One of the researchers was a brassy chick from Hoboken who’d tell me about the idiots she’d met in bars the past weekend. Another guy, the youngest researcher in the company, grew up on the Upper East Side, was obssesed with the Foo Fighters and would tell me about his family’s insanely opulent vacations. One of the temps was getting her doctorate in sociology and was dating an editor from The Nation and she invited me to their joint birthday party at which I met Lemony Snickett (whatever his real name is). A woman in my department was from China, and it turns out lived in my apartment building, splitting a room with her older sister. She told me a crazy story about how on her deathbed her Mandarin Chinese mom had given her a list of ethnic preferences from which to choose a husband. First: Mandarin Chinese. Second: NYC Jewish. Third: Cantonese Chinese. In last place was Vietnamese! She once surprised me at my apartment with some Chinese meal where some rice is wrapped up in what looks like corn husks, and I feel like she was flirting with me but I was at least a personality change and a half from being bold enough to do anything about that.

I got out in time to do an open mike at FOUR O CLOCK PM up near Columbia University. I started taking an improv class at Chicago City Limits because a guy on the Real Estate Trust desks had let slip that he took one. I was funnier than HIM, I knew, so that emboldened me.

I subscribed to the New York Times. I dropped off my clothes to be washed and they got delivered to my door.  I fell in love ten times a day with people I’d see on the street for five seconds. I saw Allen Ginsburg do Buddhist chants in Central Park. I saw Yoko Ono and Sean Lennon do a (ridiculous) concert. I went to CBGBs and saw insane bands including Hellvis and Fly Ashtray. I bought the final issue of the initial run of Love and Rockets Comics at St. Marks Bookstore. I attended a taping of a They Might Be Giants live album in my first month there. I walked by Woody Allen directing a scene.  I passed Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson going into the Union Square movie theatre. I visited Jack Kirby’s birthplace, as well as Spider-Man’s. One Saturday morning, I walked the entire length of Broadway from 218th street down to Battery Park. I saw the Red Sox when they came to Yankee Stadium. I met a cool journalist from Columbia who looked as hot as Jodie Foster and had gotten a 4.0 from UC-Berkeley and we dated a few years. I went running in Riverside Park – from Grant’s Tomb all the way down to the statue of Eleanor Roosevelt. I read the Village Voice and the NY Press and I’d scour the comedy listings to see what was good. I got stand-by tickets and saw a taping of SNL (Teri Hatcher hosting, Dave Matthews Band musical guest). I saw Dave Chapelle and Ray Romano do a show at the Comedy Cellar. I was watching a show at Gotham Comedy Club when David Brenner dropped in and did a set. I saw the U-C-fucking-B before they had a theatre.

Everyone wants that comparison: New York vs LA? Which do you like better? I was asked that when I had lived here in Los Angeles for three days! We humans, we do love to rate and list and compare.

The real answer is that it doesn’t matter, that it’s comparing apples and oranges. NYC is ten million people and is probably the oldest Real City in American. LA has four million, perfect weather and was founded ten years ago. They’re on different scales. Your life is more about your internal mindset, and whether or not you have 3 or 4 closest friends to connect with.

I don’t regret leaving NY at all! I’m so happy here it’s crazy. But it still hits me hard now and then, how cool it was.

50-points-for-ravenclaw  asked:

Sterek + "I recognized your subtly placed nerd paraphernalia AU" ?

Stiles has been doing it for years, okay?

Any time he spotted some sort of nerdy trinket he liked, he’d buy it and then-

Well, then he’d find some place to put it in the police station.

No one’s ever noticed.

And there’ll all over too.

The true skill of it is that one of the things he got in the beginning was a TV poster of Doctor Who for his dad’s office, but his dad had put a quick nix on anything like that so Stiles has had to get subtle.

Nothing that his dad could recognize as being blatantly for a TV show or movie.

Over the years, Stiles has managed to add dozens of little items to the entire office without a single person mentioning anything to him.

He’s a little sad for the state of the department that none of them recognize any of the stuff, but it’s turned into a great game for Stiles so he forgives them … at least a little.

(He really thinks they should’ve recognized the Captain America shield magnet, but apparently fighting crime means no time for contemporary media.)

He’s just finished placing his latest item, a Deadpool rubber ducky, and figures he should at least pop in to check on his dad meaning as a surprise check to make sure he isn’t hiding any overly fatty snacks in his office again.

His dad’s office door is open with what must be the new deputy they just hired sitting across from them.

“It’s great to have you back in Beacon Hills, Derek,” The Sheriff says as they shake hands.

Keep reading