Photographer Ann Sophie Lindström spent several months documenting  a group of horsemen in North Philadelphia who have been countering crime through their love for horses.  For more riveting photos of the equestrians of North Philly, here’s this week’s Spotlight essay from Emily Anne Epstein.

A stallion named Dusty rears up as Jamil Prattis, 25, leads him to the lot across from the Fletcher Street Stables, October 19, 2013. Jamil became involved with the horses when he was 12 years old, after he saw a group of urban cowboys riding through the streets of North Philadelphia. (Ann Sophie Lindström)

Jamil Prattis sits in front of his house on French Street, May 23, 2014. (Ann Sophie Lindström)

Stephfon Darnell Tolbert, 31, teases a pony named Harlem, making him rear up, October 2, 2013. Harlem is known for being aggressive when someone gets too close. (Ann Sophie Lindström

A horse is tied up in front of a vacant lot on Fletcher Street while horsemen clean the stalls, October 6, 2016. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Stable manager Edward E. Ward cuddles a horse named Maverick, September 29, 2013. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Tymeir Sanders, 17, stops by a friend’s house on West Harold Street while out on a ride with Rosie, June 1, 2014. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Stephfon Darnell Tolbert, 24, prepares feed for the horses, October 16, 2016. The horsemen have tack rooms where they keep supplies, feed, and hay. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Donnell Glenn takes Cash out for an evening walk, October 9, 2013. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Stevie Spann, 50, checks on the horses before closing the stable for the evening, August 22, 2014.  (Ann Sophie Lindström)

Jamil Prattis, Stevie Spann, and Nate Benson sit inside a horse trailer to escape the sun and smoke, May 25, 2014. (Ann Sophie Lindström)

There is no indoor arena at the Fletcher Stable, so the horsemen like use the vacant lot across the street to train their animals, October 6, 2013. (Ann Sophie Lindström

Romere Burch,13, rides bareback on a stallion named Ace N da Whole on Glennwood Avenue, October 3, 2013. (Ann Sophie Lindström

anonymous asked:

it's like you blog all day what do you do for a living

i got bit by a burrowing owl when i wandered onto a vacant lot when i was a baby and im living off settlement checks

7 Moments In ‘The Wizard Of Oz’ That Still Make Us Howl And Clap And Buy Land And Go To Sleep

Almost 80 years later, this film classic still gets us hooting and slapping and purchasing and dozing!

1. When the color kicks in: No one who’s seen The Wizard Of Oz will forget their first time watching vibrant Technicolor bloom across the screen when Dorothy finds herself in Oz. Even watching today, it’s impossible not to start screaming and applauding and bidding on tracts of Alaskan hinterland and nodding off as she takes her first steps into that fantastic land.

2. When Dorothy oils the Tin Man: The chemistry between those two still pops off the celluloid, and watching their first scene together, we just can’t help but let loose awful window-rattling whoops as we frantically bat our palms together and pour our inheritance into acre after acre of worthless property and then promptly lie facedown and faint dead away. No matter how many times you watch it, it still has that effect!

3. When the trees start hurling apples: As soon as that first apple is hurled, we’re already hoarse from the involuntary animal cries tearing out of our throats. The callouses on our palms have been torn back open from blow after blow after blow, and we’re tearing splinters out of the floorboards with our knees as we clap and howl and writhe. We sound like an a cappella group freaking out on salvia. Not only that, but we’ve also bought up every foreclosed farm we can get our hands on and capped it off by plunging deep into a dreamless void we’ll have to claw our way back out of if we ever want to escape.

4. When the flying monkeys show up: If you ever see us snoozing on the floor of the bank, clutching dozens of land titles to our chests in throbbing pink palms or hear our guttural roars wafting out of long-vacant lots, chances are we just caught a few frames of flying monkeys. That’s really all it takes.

5. When the real wizard is revealed: The moment when Dorothy & co. reveal the man behind the curtain is a stone-cold classic, and just like it must have for audiences in 1939, it never fails to start us screeching and windmilling our arms and bowing and mortgaging our homes and burying documents and discovering inner stillness and getting shot by rifles and overheating and sinking. If anything, watching it with modern eyes just makes us buy land and sprint and pulsate and crawl under our bed and pass water and declare bankruptcy all the more! Any Oz fan knows the feeling well!

6. Whenever Toto’s on screen: No one put this better than the late, great Roger Ebert in his Wizard Of Oz retrospective: “Whenever Toto comes trotting on by, I find myself having fallen fully asleep, and yet I’m shrieking and shrieking so hard that my head freely whips around on my limp body. It’s not long until my hands begin pouring every cent I’ve got into deeds for uncultivated French hills, stopping only long enough to slam into each other over and over and over, the dry thwack of flesh on flesh commingling with my increasingly ragged yelps and yawps, and god help me, but I’m not stopping till Toto’s long gone!”

7. When Dorothy sees her family again: Gets us loud, thrashing, prosperous, and comatose Every. Damn. Time.

anonymous asked:

planing on doing an train ride down form new york to harry potter world, then do Disney world, and maybe legoland. are there randy tours

You can come to my house and I’ll point out all the holes i dug for fun in vacant lots as a kid

Collecting Herbs for Magical Workings

Plants and herbs are a common ingredient in many forms of magic. Whether you are making incense, stuffing a sachet, or brewing a folk remedy, if you practice long enough, you’re eventually going to have a use for them. When that’s the case, you’ll want to use the best possible ingredient.

While store bought herbs will do in a pinch, I prefer to harvest my own. This way: you can be confident of freshness, you can establish a relationship with the donor plant, and you can harvest with intent, contributing to the power of the destined spell. Your spell work begins with the gathering of components, so treat the activity with the focus it deserves.

Your Toolkit

The first thing you will need is a cutting tool. Some traditions recommend the use of a sickle-shaped tool with a white handle, called the Boline. Here’s an example of what one looks like:

Personally, I don’t recommend the use of a Boline. Here’s why:

  • They tend to tear the plant instead of cutting it. The jagged edges this leaves behind are more prone to infection, and susceptible to insect attack.
  • They’re conspicuous, and the layman may mistake it for a weapon. Enjoy explaining to a cop that it is a “special knife for witchcraft”.
  • They require considerable care to keep sharp

If your beliefs don’t specifically demand the Boline, I instead recommend a pair of garden pruning shears with white handles. They are affordable, inconspicuous, and designed to do as little damage as possible to the plant.

Once you’ve chosen your knife, you should consecrate it. It should never be used for any purpose other than the harvesting of plants. When it isn’t in use, store it near your altar.

Next, you’ll need something to carry your herbs in. I use a large linen hip bag with an over the shoulder strap. You’ll also need some twine or string to divide the herbs you’ve collected, and a “harvest journal” so you can take note of the location of plants you find.

Finally, you need an offering to thank them for their gift. In magic, there is nothing without sacrifice. In the store, you pay with money. In nature, you can pay with fertilizer. I generally carry around a re-purposed water or soda bottle filled with fertilizer mix.

Finding Your Herbs

Some of us are lucky to live close to forests or natural fields on public land, but for many it can be a challenge to source wild herbs.

If you live in a city, find out if there are any nature trails or reserves in your area, then check what their policies are. You can also search for vacant lots, or neighbors with a green thumb. Make sure to ask before helping yourself! Sometimes you can find areas beneath power lines where herbs and flowers are allowed to grow freely. Taking plants from those areas is usually allowed.

You should try to avoid harvesting near a road (where the plants will have taken in a lot of pollution), from very small plants, or plants that appear to be sick. You don’t want to eat a sick plant, and you don’t want to kill a plant by taking from it. A good rule of thumb is to never take more than 25% of the plant’s total growth.

Asking Permission

Before you cut the plant, you should take some time to connect with it. Examine it to see if it is healthy. Take your time identifying it. Feel the plant’s energy and let it get to know you. Once you’ve determined that the plant is a good candidate, you should ask its permission to take it.

This process is intuitive. Some believe you should ask aloud, others that you can ask silently, communicating with the plant by focusing your intent. Let the plant know what you want to use it for, and invite it to participate with you. Then, wait a few minutes and listen for a response.

You should get an impression on whether or not it is okay. This could come in the form of a sensation, such as an inviting warmth, or a chill that turns you away. It could just be a sense of satisfaction. Trust yourself and go with what you sense is right. If you feel unsure or anxious, find another plant.


Using your sharp implement, make a clean, angular cut near a joint. This will make it easier for the plant to heal and regrow. You will want to choose a portion of the plant that is not the oldest (dark and woody), and not the youngest (the lightest with the most budding leaves). A good middle-aged branch is best. Be sure to never take more than 25% of the total plant growth.

While you are harvesting the plant, you should focus yourself on the intent of the spell you’re collecting it for. If you’re gathering chamomile for a healing tea, visualize yourself getting well. If you’re casting a money spell, see yourself getting that big cheque! If the goal is a love spell, see yourself with your ideal partner.

No specific goal? If you’re harvesting for general purposes or to replenish your stock, you can focus on the properties of the plant, and enforce your intention that it should lend strength to your work.

Tie the plants that you have collected into a bundle so that they wont get lost in your other herbs when you put them in your carrying bag.

Giving Thanks

Having taken from the plant, you should give thanks for the gift. Tell it that you’re grateful, and assure it that it wont be misused. Then, provide payment!

Pour the fertilizer you brought at the roots of the plant. If you stumbled upon the plant accidentally and don’t have your fertilizer with you, make some other form of offering. Traditionally, a small coin at the base of the plant can show your willingness to give. Don’t litter! The scrap of paper or cloth in your pocket is probably not a suitable offering.

Before you go, spend a moment tending to the plant. Clear debris from around it, untangle it from choking weeds and pluck off any dead matter. Practice respect by leaving it in better condition than it was when you found it!

Storing and Preparing for Use

To use the herbs fresh, simply wash them in cool water and pat them dry. They can be kept lively for a few days by putting them in a vase of water and keeping them in a cool area (if your fridge isn’t too cold, that’ll do nicely).

If you wont be using them within a few days, or want to put them in a sachet, tea or incense, you will probably need to dry them.

Tie a string around the base of a bunch of the washed, dried herbs and suspend them upside down in a warm place with good ventilation. To avoid collecting dust, I like to tie brown paper bags over them. Check them once a week, and take them down when they are dry and brittle, but before they turn to powder beneath your thumb. The length of time they’ll take to dry will vary widely based on your climate and the thickness of the plant.

When they’re dry, keep them in a labeled, airtight container for up to six months.

Use Them!

Record any observations you make while working with the herb along with it’s location in your harvest journal. If the plant is particularly fragrant or effective, write it down so you know to go back! If it doesn’t work well for you, make note of that, too.

And that is how you harvest herbs for magic! Happy Crafting!



Ponyboy comes home from University… (Modern) 

Ponyboy took in the familiar surrounding, at the same old vacant lot he and Johnny used to spend so much time in. He had driven past the same fountain he had nearly been drowned in, he saw the same DX station and he felt trapped. 

You see, had gotten out, he got that full ride Darry wanted him to get and he got into one of the best universities in America; Yale. And he studied Literature, Philosophy and film and media studies… Darry had wanted him to take up a law degree, but Ponyboy had his heart set. 

To be completely honest, he wanted nothing more than to see Tulsa in his rear view mirror. This place had nothing but bad memories. This was the place almost everyone he loved had died. His mum and dad, Johnny, Dallas… and two years ago even Two-Bit lost his life. 

The only person left in the gang was Darry, Soda, Steve and himself, and boy did he feel lost without all his brothers. 

When he got that scholarship to Yale, it was the happiest day of his life… because it meant he was nearly 22 hours away from this place. 

But today he came for a reason… and that reason was sitting beside him in the passenger seat holding his hand tightly in his, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. 

“I can’t go in” Ponyboy said softly, his hands grasped the wheel of the car so tight that his knuckles were turning pale white. He had stopped on the curb and he looked over at his house in trepidation. 

“You can go in” Dean said softly. “I know you’re worried about what’s going to happen-” 

“Worried?” Ponyboy muttered. “Try so scared that I think I’m going to shit my pants. They’re my brothers, they’re the only family that I have left. I can’t lose them… Darry, he, he- God, he dropped everything so he could finish raising me and my brother. He was on his way to becoming a lawyer. He could’ve had everything he wanted and he gave it all up for us, he is going to be so mad that he gave it all up for a fag-” 

“Don’t you dare call yourself something so demeaning. If he is as great as you say he is then he is not going to make a big deal out of something as trivial as you being gay. He raised you, he knows your heart and your soul. You know what, if this is such a big deal for you then don’t tell them. Come back another time.”

“I can’t do that, Dean… it’s not fair on you. It’s not fair on me. We’ve been together for what, 3 years? I’ve met your whole family and I haven’t even told mine about you… I can’t keep doing that to you, I know it’s upsetting you.” 

“I just want you to be happy.” 

“And I love you so much for that.” Ponyboy smiled softly as he picked up Dean’s hand and pressed it to his softly. “I need to do this.” 

“I know…” Ponyboy unbuckled his seat belt and left the engine running. “I’ll text you when I’m done, okay?” 

“Okay, I’m gonna go grab a bite to eat anyway, I’m starved.” 

Ponyboy could only muster a mere nod as he walked away from his boyfriend. He stood in the middle of his drive way and took in the house one last time, just in case he wasn’t ever welcome to step foot inside it again. He took every last detail in, breathed in every familiar smell and prayed to God this wouldn’t be the last time. 

“Pony!” Sodapop yelled, pulling him out of his reverie as he felt his big brother’s arms wrap around him loosely. “God Ponyboy, I’ve missed you.” Sodapop mussed his little brother’s hair gently. “You’ve grown, you’re so tall!” 

“You’re acting as though you haven’t seen me in years…” Ponyboy stopped talking- because he realized it probably has been years since he last saw him. 

“Ponyboy.” Darry said simply in his gruff voice… “You’re home.” 

Darry was still too rough without meaning to be. He wrapped his arms around Ponyboy in a vice like grip, squeezing the life right out of him until he was breathless and panting. 

“I’m home” Ponyboy agreed. 

“Come inside, you must be starving! I made your favourite” Darry smiled, wrapping an arm around his little brother. “Soda helped, somehow he actually managed to turn the bacon purple.” 

“Hey, it wasn’t that hard…” He shrugged his shoulders and Ponyboy heart began to beat uncontrollably in his chest. 

He didn’t know what he’d do if Tulsa became just another bad memory in his mind. 

Funny/interesting/cool MJ things

So since I’ve gotten @dahm-sub into Michael Jackson, I want to share for her and for everyone some awesome, little known things about him.

1) Michael’s favorite store was the Salvation Army. 

2) Michael personally paid for the funeral of a Chicago shooting victim

3) Michael’s daughter, Paris, is named so due to a bet he had with Kathy Hilton. “Whoever has a daughter first names her Paris.” Thus we have Paris Hilton and Paris Jackson.

4) Michael’s “second family” were the Cascios… here he is giving free advertising for their Italian restaurant.

3) In their book, “Defending a King,” Michael’s former bodyguards tell a heartwarming story of when he pulled into a vacant lot in a limousine and handed out handfuls of $100s to homeless people

4) Lisa Marie Presley (who was married to Michael in the early 90s) bragged to her friends that Michael was a freak in bed, and loved standing up, roleplay, and was even a screamer.

5) Related: the 45th President allegedly has a tape of them having sex in one of his hotels

6) Michael’s 2nd wife, Debbie Rowe, was a nurse in his dermatologist’s office, and knew him for several years before she agreed to have his kids. Despite the rumors, she publicly tweeted once that they naturally conceived their children.

7) It’s well-known to Michael’s close friends that he lost his virginity to Diana Ross in the early 80s

8) Michael’s late friend, former husband of Liza Minelli, David Gest, said he had to take care of Michael several times after he got really drunk and started throwing up everywhere

9) Michael was best friends with Ryan White, a boy famous for contracting AIDS and spearheading the movement in the 1980s. He dedicated the song and video “gone too soon” for him.

10) Corey Feldman was friends with Michael for many years and remains to be one of his biggest defenders. He publicly admitted to being sexually abused by a producer, and alleges that Hollywood is full of pedophiles, but that Michael never did anything to him. 

11) Michael was also good friends with Emmanuel Lewis of Webster fame.

12) Michael was a Jehovah’s Witness for most of his life and still went door to door during the height of Thriller, although in disguise

13) Michael loved going out in disguise because he could fool just about anyone, including his own family… this is from his brother Jermaine’s book “you are not alone”

14) Michael’s taste in women included: French women, Black/Asian biracial women, women from the Middle East, and Japanese women. The biological mother of Blanket, his 2nd son, was a nurse who was part Italian, part Mexican.

15) Michael once asked Katie Couric on a date, but she turned him down because she was dating someone else at the time


17) Michael’s favorite meal was fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans, and this dish was served almost daily at the Neverland cafe

18) Michael obsessively chewed Bazooka Bubblegum, and was in fact buried with some.

19) Michael allegedly tried pot after Barry Gibbs told him it enhanced creativity

20) Michael loved reading about Eastern religion, and was good friends with Deepak Chopra

21) Michael did several commercials for Pepsi, but he never drank it. This photo is also from his brother’s book and was taken backstage at the 1984 Victory tour.

22) Although hotly debated in the fan community, here is Michael in a secret recording (called the Glenda tapes) in which he mentions to a close friend that he had anorexia

23) Michael also suffered from Discoid lupus erythematosus (DLE), which made it hard for him to heal after suffering third degree burns in 1984.

24) Michael sustained a severe back-sprain during a special concert in Munich in 1999, in which he fell 50 feet from a platform onstage. Despite being in horrible pain, he finished the concert before passing out and being rushed to the hospital.

25) Michael almost died from a stomach illness in 1995

26) Michael experienced an earthquake at his Neverland Rach in 1993, and called a friend panicking that it was the apocalypse

27) Michael is purported to have contacted medium Bonnie Vent after his death in 2009, and gave details which she verified with the help of Brooke Shields. (I’ve personally spoken to her, she’s legit)

There are some facts! Hope you enjoyed. :)

A newspaper print appealing for any information on Elizabeth Short a.k.a the Black Dahlia, who was tortured to death some time between 9pm on January 13 and 1am January 14 in 1947 Los Angeles.

Short had last been seen a week before, in the company of a red haired man. Her battered, horribly mutilated body was found dumped in a vacant lot, drained of blood, and cut in half at the waist. Cigarette burns, cuts, bruises, and lacerations by the dozen were noted during the autopsy. Short had been tortured repeatedly over the course of several days before being beaten to death with a blunt instrument.

Investigators failed to piece together Short’s final movements with accuracy. The victim followed a notoriously seedy lifestyle and had a active social life with its fair share of shady individuals. Its unknown if the killer knew Short or if he/she was a stranger. Her murder remains unsolved.


How do you know when you’ve come home? Can it really only be defined as physically crossing the threshold into the familiar, or can it be a person, a feeling? When someone like Ava comes along, can you know that you were supposed to be there all along? Like, home had just been waiting for you with all of it’s promises of warmth, and security wrapped in the package of a person? And when you find that person? What do you do? How do you tell them in this embrace, the foundations of a home and a future have been laid?  But more importantly, how do you pull yourself away from that moment? When you know that the other person may not be in a place to start anew? That maybe to them, you don’t belong here. That you are simply a tenant in an otherwise vacant lot. 


This is honestly one of my shortest fics, and it’s probably one of the fastest I’ve ever written. Hope you guys like it, and i hope it all formatted the right way since i posted it on mobile! This is honestly one of my shortest fics, and it’s probably one of the fastest I’ve ever written. Hope you guys like it, and i hope it all formatted the right way since i posted it on mobile!

Requests open!!

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Word count: 1,722


“You’re kidding, right?”


“You don’t honestly expect me to go through with this, do you?”

“Of course I do, that’s why I asked you! If I wanted someone to bail on me I would have asked one of John’s girlfriends.”

You could feel him roll his eyes from the kitchen.

“Sherlock, this is suicide!” You insisted.

“Well it wouldn’t be if you listened to anything I just said about the inhalation and concentration of noxious gasses!”

“I have no idea how to control my lung intake-” you said, throwing charts in his face. “-or my ‘net gas exchange rate.’” You furrowed your brow. “And I sure as hell can’t control the concentration of gas entering my bloodstream!” You read off the journal he typed out for you and threw it at him. “I’d rather spend my Saturday alive, at the pub, thank you very much!”

He collected the papers and tossed them on the table.

“Of course you would. You’re boring, like everyone else!” He threw his hands on his hips and walked away.

“That wasn’t what you were saying last night,” you snickered, taking a seat on the couch.

He turned red and rolled his eyes. “Then find me a different case!” He yelled, changing the subject.

“I’m not your secretary! Find your own damn case! Have John find you a case!”

“Why is this so difficult for you?”

“Why is it so difficult for you?” You countered. “Everything we find is ‘too boring’ for the great Sherlock Holmes, so why don’t you find one yourself?!” You started to get annoyed.

“Because any sort of bias from the media will screw up the entire case. I need it raw, from simple minds like you and John.”

“Enough!” You yelled. “I mean it. We do all this work for you, John and I, and you never give us any recognition for it! Maybe if you did anything besides congratulating yourself on your own clever deductions, you would know how hard we work! We’re not dull animals for you to push around.”

“Those stupid little feelings of yours. That’s what got you tangled up with us in the first place, wasn’t it? And we see how well that worked out for everyone,” he said. “You think we need you here to help solve cases but we did it without you before. Right now, with all those pesky emotions running around in your head, you’re the broken link, the crack in the lens. We don’t need your help, we need to fix you,” he snarled.

“You have this obsession with “fixing” people, but you can’t fix me! I’m not broken!” You yelled. “This is me, don’t you understand? Every horrible, awful, emotional part. That is me and I can’t. Be. Fixed!” You spat, your face inches from his. “You, of all people, Sherlock Holmes, don’t get to call me broken.” You weren’t aware of the tears racing down your hot cheeks until after everything went silent.

He opened his mouth the speak again, but you stopped him.

I don’t want to hear it,” you hissed, extending your hand to keep him away.

You threw your purse over your shoulder and left, slamming the door behind you. You didn’t even put on your coat as you disappeared into the blinding whiteness of the snow covered night.

You flagged down a cab and got in, your voice breaking as you told the driver your address.

You rode to Sherlock’s flat nearly every single day. You knew every possible route to and from, and the amount of time it took using each. This trip took much longer. You checked the map on your phone, and noticed that you were nowhere near your flat. Anxiety rose up within you. You opened up your messages and clicked on Sherlock’s name, then changed your mind.

“Send help. Armed. GPS on. Don’t respond.” You sent the text to John instead, not yet ready for help from Sherlock.

You planted your phone under the seat for John to track. A second later, the man pulled off the road into a vacant parking lot. He turned to you, pulling his gun out and aiming it at you.

“Make one wrong move, and I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

You gave a slight nod and waited for further instruction. He opened the door for you and pulled you out, pushing you in front of him and leading you into an abandoned building. Two armed guards stood in front of the doorway. The driver led you down a long hallway, taking a sudden sharp turn into a dim room. He flicked the lights on and threw you into the middle of the room, aiming the gun at your chest. You threw your hands up in surrender, your heart rate accelerating.

“What do you know about Sherlock Holmes?” He pressed.


“Don’t act dumb,” He cocked the weapon and thrust it towards you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I know he’s a detective, that’s it! I asked him for help on a-”

He didn’t buy it. “We’ve been studying him for months. Almost every day we’ve seen you enter the office and home address of Sherlock Holmes, 221B Baker Street. Explain yourself.”

In a panic, you smacked his wrists at all the wrong angles, snapping them and sending the gun tumbling from his grip. He was clearly surprised, and hesitated before making his next move. This split second of pause was what separated the boys from the women. His surprise met your fear and adrenaline: a battle he wouldn’t win. You jabbed at his face with your fists and fingertips. Blinded, he couldn’t guard from your next attack, which was a swift kick to the groin. It took him down, and you jumped on top of him, raining down a flurry of punches on his face. When he drew a pocketknife, you tumbled off, reaching for the gun that tumbled away moments before. Without thinking, you picked it up, firing two shots into his chest. As suddenly as it had started, it was over. The unknown driver lay cold and battered on the hard concrete floor. On unsteady legs, you stood, trembling. You held the gun in your shaking hand, breathing heavily. Blood speckled your outfit and covered your knuckles and fingers. Suddenly, two sets of heavy footfalls echoed through the long hallway. You aimed the gun at the doorway, uncertain if you’d even hit your mark if it advanced toward you.

Sherlock and John ran into the room, panting. They looked at you, then the body, then back at you.

Tears filled your eyes as you shook your head in disbelief. You slowly lowered the gun. Sherlock walked up to you cautiously, taking it from your hands and passing it back John.

Realization set in. “I don’t know, I didn’t mean for this, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen you have to believe me,” your voice faded into sobs. “You… have to, you have to, please.”

He pulled you in tightly, as if to block out everything that just happened. “Shh, it’s okay now, it’s all okay now.” He gently rocked you back and forth, resting his chin on your head.

“You were right,” You sniveled. “I am broken. I’m a mess. You were right. I just murdered someone.” You pulled away from him, crossing your arms and glancing back down at the driver. You put your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from crying.

Sherlock grabbed you by the shoulders and turned you to face him. You couldn’t match his gaze.

“You are not broken. What I said before, I was angry at myself. I was angry for no good reason and I took it out on you. I couldn’t admit to myself that I didn’t know what to do. I was wrong. About you, about everything. I put your life in danger because I was a moron. And I can’t go back and change it but believe me I will never make that mistake again.”

You looked up at him. “I just want this all to be over.” You wrapped your arms around him and put your head on his chest. He did the same, letting out a sigh of relief.

You were interrupted by the sound of hammering footsteps approaching the room. You shot him a scared glance, and he nudged you behind him, taking your hand. He stood tall, bracing himself, his heart pounding.

To your relief, it was Lestrade, followed by Sally and a small team of officers. John called it in and stepped out to give the two of you time alone.

Sherlock dropped his guard, stepping aside to reveal your bloodied hands.

Lestrade gave a small nod, and Sally wrapped a shock blanket over your shoulders as she ushered you out of the building. You glanced back at Sherlock as you went, who stood next to Greg and explained the events of the night.

The rest of the night was a blur. You hadn’t eaten anything, and it took a fair amount of coaxing from Sherlock to put yourself into the shower to wash the blood from your skin.

When you got in, he collected your stained clothes to wash them. Mrs. Hudson intervened, insisting that she would take care of them as he had enough to worry about. He thanked her, and used his time instead to find you something comfortable to sleep in. He found an old pair of sweatpants and a faded band shirt, laying them outside the bathroom door.

After a while, you emerged, wet hair still wrapped in a towel. You walked into the bedroom, where Sherlock sat Skyping Lestrade. As soon as you walked in, he shut laptop and put it aside, sitting up.

“Do you want anything to eat? Do you need me to get anything for you?”

You simply shook your head and crawled under the covers, pulling the towel off your head and tossing it on the floor. He turned the bedside light off and laid back, cautiously placing his arm around you. You turned into him, burying your head close to his chest.

For the first time the entire night, you felt okay. You were okay with being broken, as long as you had him to help you put the pieces back together.

honestcactus  asked:

Okay, so I know you have a lot on your plate, and you don't have to answer if you don't want, or if you already have. I wanted to know your thoughts on pomeranians. A few years ago my family found one in a vacant lot and he kind of just became part of the family. Also he's huge. 16 pounds. Not overweight but just like an oversized pom. Anyway, I love your blog and the information you provide. I don't need a diagnosis or anything. I just like talking about my dogs, and I have pictures if you want

I get there eventually. I just appreciate askers who are patient and submit asks on one topic at a time.

Before any readers get up in arms about this post, please note the disclaimer: These posts are about the breed from a veterinary viewpoint as seen in clinical practice, i.e. the problems we are faced with. It’s not the be-all and end-all of the breed and is not to make a judgement about whether the breed is right for you. If you are asking for an opinion about these animals in a veterinary setting, that is what you will get. It’s not going to be all sunshine and cupcakes, and is not intended as a personal insult against your favorite breed. This is general advice for what is common, often with a scientific consensus but sometimes based on personal experiences, and is not a guarantee of what your dog is going to encounter in their life. With that out of the way…

Pomeranians are a funny group of dog. There are two very different looking types of dog that both get called ‘Pomeranian’.

The show-type (sometimes called bear faced) Pomeranian:


Through to the longer, thinner furred, fox face type:


Both of thee types, and anything in between, might be refereed to as a Pomeranian. Show breeders and purebred dog enthusiasts will insist that only the first type is a ‘proper’ pom, and the foxy types are either poorly bred by backyard breeders or mixed with something. I mean, they probably are mixed with something somewhere along the way, but this second type of Pomeranian is more common and so I’m including them in this post.

Medially Luxating Patella is the most common surgical concern in this breed. These dogs often have dodgy kneecaps, but what will vary is how much the luxating patella bothers the dog. A low grade one may not bother a fit dog very much at all, but the more severe it is and the heavier the dog is, the more likely they will require surgery. They often have this condition in both knees, but one may be worse than the other. Any little dog that starts skipping on three legs, or that owners suspect is ‘faking’ lameness buy holding a leg up when running should be suspected of this condition. 

Dental Health is a big deal for these dogs. Being so little, they don’t need a huge amount of food, so it’s easy for owner to fall into the trap of spoiling them. They are also often not very strong chewers, even for little things like chicken wings.

As they get older many of these dogs develop a honking cough. Half the time this is due to collapsing trachea, where the cartilage in the trachea weakens with age and can collapse when the dog breathes in too hard, i.e. when it’s excited.

A cough can also be a symptom of heart disease, most commonly mitral valve disease in this breed. Heart disease is never exactly a walk in the park, but getting this condition in a twelve year old dog is not as big an issue as finding it in a seven year old dog, as we often do with Cavalier King Charles Spaniels.

Trimming nails is also a much bigger issue for this breed than it should be. If people would put in just a little more effort teaching their dogs my life would be easier.

These are the conditions I see commonly across the Pomeranian spectrum. In the show-type Pomeranian I also see more Intervertebral Disc Disease and rarely hydrocephalus.

Personally I really like the foxy poms. They’re sweet while still being full of energy. I have cried over these dogs.  ❤ Pepper & Cricket ❤

It wont surprise you to learn that I see less issues with the foxy type poms, especially in regard to their head, than I do with the show type poms. Extremes of anatomy consistently correlate with more medical concerns.

But both types can be very nice little dogs, especially when socialized and not encouraged to be fearful, as happens to many little dogs in a big world.

Did you know you can support Dr Ferox and vote on future topics on Patreon?

Ya know, guys may dominate the screen in YGO, and I guess as a “magical boy show” that makes sense. But I’d like to take a moment to point out…

The closest YGO ever gets to a cock fight over a girl is Fighting for a Friend, 1-5. Valon baits Joey, and a motorcycle chase ensues. Alone, with Mai, in a vacant lot in the middle of the night, the 2 guys duke it out “to save Mai,” and win her affection. Valon vs Joey even revolves around their robo suits of armor punching each other.

But how does it go? Valon and Joey now understand one another and like each other alright. They realize they both want what’s best for Mai, and respect that. “The guy’s got heart. It’s up to you, now. Save Mai.” “He fought like a true duelist today.” Once Mai steps in to vs Joey, who says only she can decide to save herself. So both of the guys end up defeated, and she rides off to avenge and save them.

For all of human history, hasn’t it been guy vs guy, winner takes girl? Not in YGO. Here it was guy vs guy over girl, guys become friends, girl knocks them both out.

It’d be even more interesting if, ya know, this was not the last scene on the issue!

Let It Go

Summary: You and Mark’s relationship has run its course and it’s just not enough to fight for anymore.

Member: Mark

Part 1/3 : Pt.2 - Pt.3

Originally posted by yugyeom

You had held it in for so long. The constant thoughts that told you to end things. In retrospect you knew that your relationship had run its course but, you both couldn’t bring yourself to end things. Especially not him, he was far too in denial. To him it was plain and simple; you weren’t trying hard enough. Once you tried harder everything would be fixed. But that wasn’t reality. Reality was that it was time to part ways. Yet, as you walked up to his house you felt the sudden urge to turn back. But it was that way of thinking that prohibited you both from being able to move on. So you half-heartedly knocked on the door until you heard footsteps.

Mark opened the door, his hair stuck to his face, and a towel wrapped around his waist. You guessed he was expecting someone else because his eyes drew out when he fully registered it was you.

“Hey,” you faltered, “Can I come in?”

Mark hesitated, “Actually can we talk out here? My mom’s sick and if this is that kind of talk than I’d rather not worry her.”

“Okay.” You smiled.

Mark disappeared for a few minutes while you sat on his porch. A million different scenarios running through your mind. But none of them ended well. Mark was not the most level headed. In fact he had a tendency to explode at random times. He was so easily frustrated that if you didn’t carefully explain yourself you could easily offend him.

The door opened and Mark walked out, his eyes downcast, and his hand out for you to grab. He helped you up and intertwined your fingers before walking you toward his car. You had no idea where he was taking you but a little more time with him wouldn’t hurt. You pulled into a parking lot. Admittedly the parking lot gave you dejavu. You and Mark used to go there anytime his house was too stuffy. You’d sit there and talk for hours or make out sometimes. Okay admittedly the latter more than the first. You found yourself smiling and when you looked at Mark so was he.

“My dad still gets the creeps passing here.” He chuckled.

“He did catch us with our tongues down each other’s throats.”

“His fault! What did he think two teenagers were doing in a vacant lot? Picking strawberries?”

“Nope popping cherries.”

You both started laughing. Mark turned his head and leaned it on his chair to watch you. His fingers trailed you arm and then they were cupping your face for a light kiss.

“Whatever it is I’m sorry.”

You searched his eyes, “Let’s get out.”

He nodded. When you both were out he leaned on the hood of his car. “So what’s up?”

“Mark, we should break up.”

Mark licked his lips and swallowed. “No.”


“Why? Give me a reason that isn’t bullshit?”

“I am not good for you. I can’t give you anything that you want!”

“Then I’ll change what I want because it doesn’t trump what I need which is you. So everything that isn’t you I don’t want it.”

“Mark your being ridiculous!”

“And you’re being selfish. You always get to say stop and go with us it’s like I get no say in my own relationship.”

“Because you never make hard decisions. You always say, ‘Just take it a day at a time we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ and bullshit like that!”

“It’s not bullshit it’s the only way to control all your crazy!”

“Oh so now I’m crazy?”

“Yes blatantly insane honestly but I love you and your crazy obviously.”

You breathed in and out. This wasn’t going your way. You just needed him to understand where you were coming from but, he didn’t. He acted like you wanted him to be with someone else and completely forget you. That’s the last thing you wanted.

“Mark,” you shook your head. “Mark I love you but I’m tired of doing this aren’t you?”

Mark looked down, the tears were already rimmed at his eyes. He had never been so grateful for a baseball cap in his whole life.

“Mark were in over our heads. And sometimes love just isn’t enough to keep a relationship going.”

“I don’t know how to make you happy anymore.” He admitted.

“I know.”

He looked up finally, eyes bloodshot, and bottoms lip in between his teeth. He wanted to fight you.


“Sometimes you learn all you can from one relationship not to save it but to do better in your next one. The lessons you learn can’t reverse the mistakes you already made in the past.”

“No.” He dead panned.

“Mark please.”


“God!” You shouted and turned away, pressing your hand to your forehead. “You never listen.”

Suddenly his arms were wrapped around your waist. He kissed your collarbone and pleaded. “Y/N, please.”

“We can’t Mark.”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course.”

“Then please…” he trailed unable to finish his sentence. So he squeezed tighter, repeatedly kissing your shoulder, and neck. Praying you’d just change your mind. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Not just for his sake. For yours.

So you pulled his hands away and said, “I need you to let me walk away.”

Another sob.

“I need you to let me go. Don’t call or text. No more flowers or gifts.”


“I need you to be brave for two because I’m not strong enough to look at you right now and still walk away.”

A whispered, “Y/N.” was his only response.

“Please Mark. Please let me go.” You said as you threw back your head and let the tears stream. When he was silent for a long time you wiped your eyes and began to walk. Slowly at first, you always walked slow so he’d know to come. Because you knew that he knew you would always choose to go back to him. Even though it would hurt you both. You always went back. So you walked and you walked slow until, you realized, he wasn’t coming. Not this time. You walked slow, until the realization hit you and then, then you ran.

“I won’t stop you this time, Y/N, I promise.”


Pairing: JiKook
Length: ~12.7k

Jimin’s just too old but too young.

Follow my journey writing this fic here.


Jimin has been coming to this park every day for the past year and a half. Through snow, rain, and unbearable heat, this swing had been his between 6 and 9 p.m. Today, he has his long sleeves pulled over his palms and his hair tucked under a cloth toboggan as he watches the stars.

He kicks at the ground, pushing himself back with a creak of the nearly frozen chains. When the swing stills, he repeats the action and intently focuses on his breath that blooms in the air before it fades evenly away. Jimin doesn’t know what he was doing, it was safe to say he never knew in the first place.

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anonymous asked:

The Shepherds are literally mentioned once. That's not enough of a basis for them to be your "favourite" characters lmfao.

  1. “That’s why I came over. Mr. Timothy Shepard and Co. are looking for whoever so kindly slashed their car’s tires, and since Mr. Curly Shepard spotted Dallas doing it…well…”
  2. “Tim’ll fight fair if Dally don’t pull a blade on him. Dally shouldn’t have any trouble.”
  3. “…there’s not going to be any blood feud between our outfit and Shepard’s. If we needed them tomorrow they’d show. If Tim beats Dally’s head in, and then tomorrow asks us for help in a rumble, we’ll show. “
  4. “…it wasn’t our fault we were greasers. I couldn’t just take it or leave it, like Two-Bit, or ignore it and love life anyway, like Sodapop, or harden myself beyond caring, like Dally, or actually enjoy it, like Tim Shepard.”
  5. “…we preferred our vacant lot, and the Shepard outfit liked the alleys down by the tracks…”
  6. “Me and Shepard had a run-in and I cracked some ribs. I just needed a place to lay over.” He rubbed his side ruefully. “Ol’ Tim sure can pack a punch. He won’t be able to see outa one eye for a week.”
  7. “I’d heard about reformatories from Curly Shepard and I didn’t want to go to one at all.”
  8. “I knew that whistle well enough. It was used by us and the Shepard gang for ‘Who’s there?’“
  9. “…it’s just a way of trying to break us. They can’t really do anything to guys like Curly Shepard or Tim; they’ve had about everything done to them. And they can’t take anything away from them because they don’t have anything in the first place.”
  10. “Tim Shepard’s gang and our outfit are havin’ it out with the Socs tomorrow night in the vacant lot.”
  11. “Shepard and some of his outfit and us were hanging around there when she drives up in her little ol’ Sting Ray.”
  12. “Some of us never cry at all. Like Dally and Two-Bit and Tim Shepard- they forgot how at an early age.”
  13. “Once we even found Tim Shepard, leader of the Shepard gang and far from his own turf, reading this morning paper in the armchair. He merely looked up, said “Hi,” and strolled out without staying from breakfast.”
  14. “Tim and Dallas had always been buddies.”
  15. “Shepard came by to see me a while ago…said he saw my name in the paper and couldn’t believe it didn’t have ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ under it. He mostly came to rub it in about the rumble.”
  16. “Only last week Tim Shepard had cracked three of Dally’s ribs. But Dally and Tim Shepard had always been buddies; no matter how they fought, they were two of a kind, and they knew it.”
  17. “Curly Shepard won’t be there either” “…remembering Tim Shepard’s kid brother, Curly, who was a tough, cool, hard-as-nails Tim in miniature, and I had once played chicken by holding our cigarette ends against each other’s fingers. We had stood there, clenching our teeth and grimacing, with sweat pouring down our faces and the smell of burning flesh making us sick, each refusing to holler, until Tim happened to stroll by. When he saw that we were really burning holes in each other he cracked our heads together, swearing to kill us both if we ever pulled a stunt like that again. I still have the scar on my forefinger. Curly was an average downtown hood, tough and not real bright, but I liked him. He could take anything.”
  18. “Tim Shepard and company were already waiting when we arrived at the vacant lot…Tim was a lean, catlike eighteen-year-old who looked like the model JD you see in movies and magazines. He had the right curly black hair, smoldering dark eyes, and a long scar from temple to chin where a tramp had belted him with a broken pop bottle. He had a tough, hard look to him, and his nose had been broken twice. Like Dally’s, his smile was grim and bitter. He was one of those who enjoy being a hood.
  19. “Tim had a tense. hungry look of an alley cat- that’s what he’s always reminded me of, an alley cat- and he was constantly restless. His boys ranged from fifteen to nineteen, hard-looking characters who were used to the strict discipline Tim gave out. That was the difference between his gang and ours- they had a leader and were organized..”
  20. “…Curly always said you were a good kid. Curly’s in the reformatory for the next six months.’ Tim grinned ruefully, probably thinking of his roughneck, hard-headed brother. ‘He got caught breaking into a liquor store, the little…’ He went on to call Curly every unprintable name under the sun– in Tim’s way of thinking, terms of affection.”
  21. “Shepard’s gang were used to fighting with anything they could get their hands on – bicycle chains, blades, pop bottles, pieces of pipe, pool sticks, or sometimes even heaters.”
  22. “Tim Shepard was swearing blue and green because his nose was broken again…”
  23. “He died violent and young and desperate…just like Tim Shepard and Curly Shepard and the Brumly boys and the other guys we knew would die someday.”
  24. “Nothing we can do…not for Dally or Johnny or Tim Shepard or any of us…”
  25. “…they weren’t full of that pity-the-environment junk the social workers kept handing Curly Shepard every time he got sent of to reform school.”
  26. “I started toward them, holding the bottle the way Tim Shepard holds a switch – out and away from myself, in a loose but firm hold.”
  27. “I suddenly remembered Curly Shepard’s face when he slipped off a telephone pole and broke his arm.”
  28. “He was as wild as the boys in the downtown outfits, like Tim Shepard’s gang.”
  29. “He had been a handsome black-haired boy with dark eyes - maybe brown, like Soda’s, maybe dark-blue, like the Shepard boys.”