#Pat Rabbitte

[dadsinsuits]

Pat Rabbitte

#suitdaddy #suiteddaddy #suit and tie #men in suits #suited daddy #suited grandpa #suitedman #suit daddy #daddy #silverfox #suitfetish #buisness suit #suited men #suitedmen #suited man #suited #suit #Irish man #Irish men #Pat Rabbitte

[pourunhomme]

Pat Rabbitte

...listen

#pat rabbitte #pourunhomme

[zbigniewedward]

Pat Rabbitte

#grandpa #lovematurebulges #seniormaturebulges #bultos maduros #suit grandpa

[lazyneonrabbitt]

The sound of cries had died down in the room that was now filled with tired breaths and congratulations.

"This was the last time I'm ever doing this.." Sherry's breathy words got a soft laugh out of Daryl, who could sense the lie but kept it quiet.

His gaze turned from the resting surrogate mother to the newborn's momma.

Tabby sat next to her on the other half of the large bed the three of them shared with the little bundle of fur in her arms, tears rolling down her cheeks and a smile wider than the others had ever seen on her. Michonne walked into the room as she handed her a bottle of milk for the pup. It was like second nature how Tabby comfortably placed her pup in her arms and helped her feed.

"She's head over heels already." Sherry commented on the view before her and Daryl could only agree with a lovestruck look in his eyes. "Yea, she's an amazing momma."

Daryl leaned in to give a kiss to Sherry's forehead and got up to give the new mom some much deserved love.

The last few hours they had both spent at Sherry's side, helping her through labor but now that she was all good Daryl moved over to his other lover to pepper her with kisses and bond with his newborn daughter. His hand went to the pup’s, who happily grabbed onto his finger as he coo’ed at her. Carol had come to their side as well, smiling just as wide as her best friend. “Auntie Tabby, finally a mommy today.” She gave her a soft pat on the shoulder as she offered her services for the upcoming times, helping with the pup and and stuff around the house until at least Sherry was back on her feet again.

Sherry watched the new parents from her spot in the bed and felt the love radiate from them, immediately ridding her of any discomfort having the pup just now.

After the pup was fed Daryl held both her and her momma close to him as he spoke sweet nothings at them.

He did have to admit, his curiosity was getting the best of him now..

"Ya ready ta share her name with us?"

Today is an important day. Because today is @celtic-crossbow’s day, and she (and her writing) deserves all the love and adoration today and any other day too but especially today!

Much love, Auntie Rabbitt 💚

#sometimes i write #the werepups tag #this is an art tag #i love murda okay #also yes i didn’t reveal the name on purpose #thats momma’s job not mine #im the auntie in this one #twd au #daryl dixon x reader

[bitcofun]

The truth for the crypto market and cryptocurrency rates in 2022 is institutional financial investment has actually only simply started. When it takes place genuine, the marketplace will all of a sudden and significantly modify the currency exchange rate of crypto up. Without looking it up, just how much cash would you understand or reckon that institutional financiers have exchanged for cryptocurrency up until now? State simply bitcoin to make it easy. A glimpse around shows up a large range of figures. Whether It's $6B or $70 B, It's Still a Fraction But whether you pass this Jan 2022 Binance report referencing CoinShares statistics, that states institutional financial investment in bitcoin totaled up to $6.3 billion in 2021, or this Benzinga report from Aug 2021, that consists of crypto holding business like Grayscale, and reckoned the overall institutional financial investment in bitcoin at the time to be $70 billion ... Institutional financial investment in crypto still lags far behind retail financiers and independent whale-sized financiers in2022 Institutional financial investment in crypto hasn't gotten here till the "pension funds, shared funds, hedge funds, financial investment banks, sovereign wealth funds, and insurance provider" start to assign to cryptocurrency (hat idea: Pat Rabbitte). Even if Institutional Investors held $70 billion worth of bitcoin today, with its market cap less than half of what it was at the time of Benzinga's report in August, it would still make up just 17% of the marketplace cap of bitcoin. If we think institutional outflows from bitcoin paced total outflows given that August, then it's less than 10 percent of bitcoin holdings. What if institutional financiers invert this circulation and held 90% of all bitcoin? Just how much more would each satoshi of the staying 10% deserve? Cryptocurrency and Investors Are Nearly Ready The worldwide equities market cap surpassare $100 trillion to close 2020 and is presently someplace in the area of $125 trillion. About this time in 2015, $61 trillion (59%) of worldwide equities was handled by institutional financiers. The pension funds, sovereign funds, financial investment banks, and insurance coverage giants have actually lagged the retail group in embracing crypto. First, they were cryptocurrencies' problemsthe issues cryptocurrencies fix and how they resolve them. Now, institutional financiers are resolving fundamental restrictions in the nature of embracing crypto. Funds handling cash that isn't theirs for their customers are more averse to run the risk of. (But funds are growing more thinking about risk-mitigated methods to include more impressive yield to their trades.) They likewise need to satisfy regulative requirements. They should discover the liquidity of a possession satisfying. That method, they will have somebody to offer it to when they wish to leave their positions. Bridgewater: Crypto Market Is Big Enough Now The crypto market has actually grown and developed by leaps and bounds at this time in its advancement. Huge international institutional financial investment in crypto is now practical. The alluring advantage it would be to holders now towers above crypto appraisals. When it comes to liquidity requirements, a Bridgewater research study note released Jan 2022 stated: " We believe that Bitcoin has to do with 1.4% as liquid as United States equities; this would involve holding a much smaller sized capital position in the liquid mix, however its high volatility indicates that a fairly little allowance in dollar terms would still provide significant direct exposure on a risk-adjusted basis." Late last month, Kevin O'Leary of Shark Tank popularity stated this incredibly early phase for institutional financial investment in cryptocurrency is why he's purchasing the dip this year. He mentioned in an interview that most of capital expense on the planet is from sovereign and pension funds and stated their allotment of crypto is still generally "absolutely no" at this moment.

Not till they embrace, stated O'Leary, has institutional financing truly moved into crypto. He stated this market capitulation is a chance for financiers to get ahead of the pattern. O'Leary advises going long crypto prior to funds truly start to move 1% of their holdings into bitcoin. O'Leary tasks that bitcoin's cost will double over night when it strikes markets that this is really occurring. He believes this will occur by January or February 2023. That guess might not be too bullish. Fidelity Investments will be permitting pension to designate to bitcoin later on this year. The $4.5 trillion monetary services giant made the statement in April. In May, Fidelity went on a 200+ individual employing spree for cryptocurrency devs and consumer support personnel to handle cryptocurrency items for its customers. SPECIAL OFFER (Sponsored) Binance Free $100(Exclusive): Use this link to sign up and get $100 complimentary and 10% off charges on Binance Futures very first month( terms). PrimeXBT Special Offer: Use this link to sign up & & go into POTATO50 code to get as much as $7,000 on your deposits. Read More

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Pat Rabbitte Former Minister for Communications, Energy and Natural Resources

Pat is so adorable.

#Pat Rabbitte #irish politician #handsome daddy #husky daddy #daddy #PILF #suited daddy #suit & tie #eye glasses #politician #sitting #celebrities

[franckboutalebsblog]

Pat Rabbitte

[kiwi-coconut-dreams]

Pairing: Patrick Hockstetter x Reader.

Requested: Yes; for @crowkingwrites.

Warnings: mentions of blood, dead animals, and well it’s Patrick so you already know what to expect.

It was an usual sunny day in Derry, we were out of school due to summer, I was waiting for Patrick and the rest of the gang outside of the library, they told me to meet them there, I was starting feel hot and tired of waiting.

Suddenly the known Trans Am parked in front of me.

-Get inside sweet cheeks!- That was Patrick’s  unmistakable voice and nickname for me, I got up rolling my eyes and securing my backpack.

-What took you so long, idiots?- I asked while sitting on Patrick’s lap.

-We made it, didn’t we, sweet cheeks?- Patrick placed his arm around my waist, I squished his cheeks between my hand, making him look like a cute fish.

-Yes, baby, but it’s fucking summer and I was melting out there- I pecked his lips, but he decided to grab my bottom lip between his teeths and bite, really hard - Ouch, Patrick, let go- I pulled a strand of his long hair making him laugh while releasing my lip.

-You’re such a baby- He teased me.

-Fuck you-

-You can do that later, baby- I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.

-So, were a we going today?- I asked him.

-It’s a surprise-He boped my nose with his index finger, I huffed and stayed in silence until we reached the woods and the car stopped, Patrick opened the door for me to get out, followed by him, but the rest of the gang stayed inside.

-You aren’t coming?- I asked them.

-It’s your surprise, not ours. We will wait for you here- Henry answered while lighting a cigar, I looked at Patrick.

-C’mon,I don’t have all day-  He said while hurrying me.

-Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?- Sarcasm dripping from my words.

-DON’T SHAG IN THE WOODS!- Henry screamed and I flipped him off.

-So, what’s my surprise?- I asked Pat while walking more inside of the woods.

-If I tell you it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, don’t you think?- I huffed annoyed- Now close your eyes- I did as told, not really sure about it though.

-I swear to god Patrick, If I fall...-

-You won’t fall, now shut up and walk- He interrupted me, we walked for a while ‘till I felt his hand in my arm making me stop- Open your eyes- I did and in front of us there was and old and rusted fridge, covered with leaves and dirt, and... blood? This fucker.

-This is my surprise? An old fridge? How cute of you, Patsy- I said sarcastically, he rolled his eyes at me.

-Open it up- He said annoyed.

-If some fucking rat with rabies jumps on me and bites my face off...-

-Just fucking open it, (Y/N)- He interrupted me again.

-Okay...- I said unsure, I started to walk closer to the fridge, I looked to Patrick.

-Go on- He encouraged me, I placed my hand on the fridge’s handle, took a deep breath and opened it with a yank, and what was inside really was a surprise.

Animals, corpses of animals, ones were rotting, others had missing parts, some cats, I think I saw a dog, a thing that looked like a rabbitt or maybe it was a rotten rat, the smell was awful, but I couldn’t keep my eyes of the scene in front of me.

-So here’s Mrs. Kingsley’s cat...- I said while at a ball of white hair stained with blood.

-That’s all you have to say?- Patrick speaked after a rough ten minutes.

-What do you want me to say?- I asked him, this time placing my gaze on him.

-Aren’t you scared or something?-

-Not really, it’s quite impressive though- I looked inside the fridge again- How did you manage to catch them, stupid animals, If I was them I would never get close to you- I giggled - But I am not an animal so...- I closed the fridge an walked close to him again, placing my arms around his neck, he got that kinky smirk on his face, I could tell he was quite proud of himself, hen bended a little and I stood on my tippy toes so I could place my lips close to his - What about we go to your house, smoke a little and see what happens- He smirked wider.

We walked back to the Trans Am hand in hand.

-How did it go?-asked Vic

-Good- Patrick answered once we were inside the car, on the way to his home

-Your boyfriend’s a psycho, (Y/N)- Belch talked from the drivers seat

-I know- I said proudly- My cutie psycho- I whispered in Patrick’s ear and kissed him on the cheek

#it 2017 #patrick hocksetter imagine #patrick hockstetter #patrick hocksetter x reader #bowers gang

[dadsinsuits]

Pat Rabbitte

#suitdaddy #suiteddaddy #suit and tie #suited daddy #men in suits #daddy #suited grandpa #suitedman #suit daddy #silverfox #suitfetish #suited men #buisness suit #suited man #suitedmen #suited #Irish man #Irish men #Pat Rabbitte

[zbigniewedward]

Pat Rabbitte

#grandpa #lovematurebulges #seniormaturebulges #bultos maduros #suit grandpa

[queenbirbs]

threshold | Ethan Ramsey x MC

AN: A canon-divergent AU from chapter 15 and onward. Part three of the metaphor series, part 1 and part 2 are here. Title taken from The National’s Oblivions.  

WC: 5,970 Rating: Explicit Warning(s): NSFW, some alcohol consumption 

+

He isn’t even in the city when it happens.

Ethan is as far down and as far east as the Massachusetts state line will allow, holed up in a little seaside shack in Eastham, perched on an uncomfortable barstool, and drinking the finest liquor Josie’s Bar and Grill has to offer. Which isn’t really saying much, given the paltry choices and the unmistakable grime of seaspray that coats every glass.

Why Naveen came out here to die is a mystery to him.

His mentor sits to his left, facing the large windows that overlook Samoset Beach and, beyond that, Cape Cod Bay. Outside the minimal protection Josie’s split-shake walls offer, the waves are a noisy, angry mess. A late summer storm roils towards them from the west, turning that deep, coastal blue into an unsettling gray. Wind knocks at the tacky decorations nailed to the walls, the chipped fenders and plastic seahorses and rusted anchors clanking against the clapboard paneling.

There’s a television above the bar, where a looping clip of a home run plays next to a grinning news anchor.

Ethan chooses to watch the liquor in his glass as he swirls it, before picking it up and taking another sip. He’s lost count of how many he’s ordered, but the bartender hasn’t cut him off yet, so he must not be that drunk yet. Which is unfortunate, really -- because that would make this a hell of a lot easier.

“I still think--” he starts, but he’s quickly cut off.

“Oh, yes, I know. That is the root of all of your problems, I believe.” Naveen tilts his head to grin at him. “You think too much. Sometimes, it’s important to let your brain rest.”

“So, what -- you let yours rest and it somehow convinced you that giving up is the best option?” Ethan mutters. Tossing back the rest of his drink, he sets it down none-too-gently against the gritty bartop and motions for another.

Next to him, Naveen sighs, the line of his shoulders easing.

“This is where you and I part ways. I don’t see it as giving up. I see it as fate handing me the most ironic of cards to deal.”

Ethan shifts in his seat, uncomfortable with the dreamy tone to Naveen’s voice.

“I think it’s time to settle your tab.”

“I’m not intoxicated. My two beers don’t hold a candle to your eight rounds, anyway.” Before Ethan can object to the number (though the numb feeling in his lips tells him it’s likely an accurate count), Naveen continues. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my short time drunk. I want to see the world with clear eyes, take in the beauty it has to offer me.”

Twisting to glance over his shoulder, Ethan takes in the stormy scape that he’s watching and snorts.

“Doesn’t seem like much to me.”

“That’s because you’re viewing it with your eyes closed, my boy. You expect the worst, so you see nothing. Your pessimism has put a knife on the things that held you together, and you have fallen apart. There is beauty in everything, though -- the white petals of the waves, the rolling current, the sound the rain makes atop the water. You see a nuisance; I see a force of nature.”

Across from them, three of the bar’s seven patrons toss back shots of cheap tequila, their University of Delaware T-shirts a searing shade of yellow. The other two patrons are seated at the end of the horseshoe-shaped bar, picking at a plate of mozzarella sticks, disappointment visible in the turn of their frowns.

That Doctor Naveen Banerji, esteemed diagnostician and saver of thousands of lives, would choose such a locale to spend his last days on earth is so depressing a thought that Ethan tosses the fresh glass of scotch back and signals immediately for another one. “Oh, now, that’s a poor response to my waxing poetic to… oh, goodness.”

He looks up just as Naveen’s hand comes to settle on his wrist, squeezing it tightly as he stares just over Ethan’s right shoulder. Turning his head sharply, he searches for what’s brought such concern into Naveen’s gaze. It doesn’t take long to find it.

On the television, a reporter stands at the intersection of Nashua Street and Route 28, her eyes wide and face pale under the camera crew’s bright lights.

A growing horror paralyzes Ethan as he takes in the scene behind her, lit up by the emergency lights. Two subway cars lie on their sides, smashed into the pavement. A third car dangles over the side of the elevated track, clinging to a fourth car that’s crushed between a pillar and the station. Concrete slabs and metal sheeting litter the asphalt from where the cars broke through the station’s barrier. The taillights of two automobiles, their cabins crushed underneath the fallen train, reflect the incessant pulse of police lights. Blue tarpaulin sheets cover the windows of the subway cars, hiding the gruesome scenes inside from the public eye.

Dozens injured in Green Line train derailment, the white text in the lower third reads.

The bar’s music is too loud for him to hear, but the closed captions across the bottom of the screen do little to alleviate his worries, especially when death toll remains unknown tickers across.

“That’s the station most of the employees use, correct?” Naveen asks. But his voice sounds as if he’s speaking through a wall. Ethan can only hear the distinct noise of his heartbeat in his ears that blocks everything else out.

“It is,” he chokes out, his hands immediately scrambling for the phone in his pocket.

It’s the station Sloane uses religiously, despite another being closer to the hospital, because she gets to enjoy a scenic walk down Thoreau Path. The same path she followed him down when he quit, demanding he stop and talk to her. Which he ignored and kept on walking, leaving her behind (and then leaving her in every other sense of the word and god, what an idiot he was for thinking that was for the best). Every ounce of injured pride and disappointment in himself as a doctor pales to the hot twist of nausea he feels as he looks over the accident scene.  

Tapping her name, he brings the phone to his ear and waits with bated breath as it rings. There’s no relief, though, when the call rolls to her voicemail. Her cheery tone promises that she’ll return his call just as soon as she can.

“It’s Ethan,” he says after the beep. “I’m out of town with -- I, please call me back and let me know you’re alright. I saw the news about the subway accident and I just… I need you to call me back. Please.”

Naveen’s grip tightens on his arm. Behind them, the storm rages closer; the windows rattle in their panes, the rain pelts at the glass.

“She’s okay, don’t worry.”

Ethan shakes his head, dragging in a strangled breath as panic sinks its claws into him. Dialing the hospital next, he realizes by the sixth try that he’s not going to get through to anyone there -- the lines are too clogged with loved ones, demanding to know if their spouse or sibling or best friend has been admitted. When he tries to access the day’s shift schedule, his work email throws up an error message, notifying him that his account has been deactivated and to contact his network administrator for help.

Text me back. I need to know you’re okay, he sends her, staring at the screen in hopes the three little dots will appear.

No reply comes.

Unable to sit there and wait patiently, Ethan moves down his contact list, worry outweighing the awkwardness of texting colleagues that he left high and dry with his sudden departure. He sends a text to Zaid and Ines and even one to Harper, requesting for them to let him know if all staff are safe and accounted for.

It’s a pointless move, though, given that such a situation would call for an all-hands-on-deck in the ER. And when ten more minutes go by with no responses, he signals for another round.

“If I know our Doctor McTavish, she’s certainly too busy helping out to bother with the likes of you,” Naveen points out, a small smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

Ethan ruminates on his recent track record: losing Dolores, failing Naveen and letting him walk away from a possible cure (that he’s yet to find). It wouldn’t be such a leap to follow the pattern that his life has taken recently and assume the worst with Sloane.

“I want to share your optimism, but I -- I seem to carry bad luck around with me lately,” he mutters. His gaze is set firmly on the television screen, not daring himself to look away in the event they reveal any sort of clue. They wouldn’t announce casualties, not this soon and not without notifying family first. It’s the only solace he can take right now.

“No,” Naveen corrects, patting him gently, “you carry a bad attitude. There is a difference.”

Before he can start up a speech on looking at the bright side and other empty phrases of comfort, the power flickers once, then twice, before succumbing to the storm and winking out entirely. Darkness soaks the bar. Shouts of alarm from the college kids soon grow to rough peals of laughter as the bartender cracks a joke. The only light comes from what little evening sun makes it through the thick clouds, mottling the gray sky with a tinge of bruised yellow.

There’s a flurry of movement as staff search and retrieve candles, setting them on the bartop. Someone hauls out a Coleman lantern and a crank radio and the disappointed couple even joins in, offering to buy everyone a round. Raucous shouts of praise come from the college kids over the snappy vocals of Eddie Rabbitt, professing his love for a rainy night.

It’s the kind of scene that Sloane would insist on joining, would demand he get off his barstool and dance with her, would croon along to the song in that terrible singing voice of hers. The one Ethan only knows about because of the many mornings he’s driven the both of them to work, when it’s gotten too late for her to bother heading home after a night of research (among other things) at his place, when he acquiesces to her demands to play something other than the local classical station.  

The thought of never hearing her off-key singing, or never experiencing the comfort of her giving into sleep and leaning against him on his couch, or never waking with her next to him -- it’s a little too much for him and his eleven rounds to handle.

Dropping his phone onto the bar, Ethan covers his face with his hands and tries to shove away the emotions that threaten to make their way to the surface. He pushes them down, stuffing them into the dented suitcase that is his heart and he’s too drunk for this, for thinking in metaphors, for thinking of Sloane behind those blue tarps, bloodied and bruised, far too injured for help, being passed over by paramedics when they realize the same thing, leaving her alone to--

“Oh, Ethan,” Naveen is saying, his palm moving in soothing circles against his back. “It’s going to be alright.”

There’s movement to his left, a pained grunt as Naveen moves to stand, his hand never leaving his back. The bartender comes over and the two talk in low tones about the tab, and then a taxi. Some undetermined amount of time passes, which Ethan spends thinking more terrible thoughts while Naveen murmurs placating words. Then he’s being hauled out of the bar and under the front awning, where a tremendous downpour and a yellow cab arrive simultaneously for them.

He spends the short ride with his eyes firmly shut, listening to Naveen’s soft conversation with someone named Ninut, who promises to call him back if they can find out if Sloane is on shift. Then there’s a tastefully-decorated coastal bungalow and a cream couch with entirely too many throw pillows, the latter of which Naveen leads him to and demands for him to lie down on. Given how hazy everything looks in the lamplight, Ethan follows his orders.

Disappearing around the corner, Naveen bangs about in the kitchen -- opening and closing cabinets, running water, knocking a spoon against glass -- before he shuffles back into the living room. He pushes a glass of water into Ethan’s hands.

“What’s in this?”

“A physician-certified hangover cure.”

He takes a sip, then another, but can taste nothing around the lump in his throat.

“It’s just water, isn’t it?”

“A physician never reveals his secrets.”

“We’re not magicians,” Ethan scoffs.

“No?” Naveen settles onto the couch and tips his head to the side, his eyes softening as he looks over his protégé. “I thought you believed yourself to be one, seeing as you’ve been trying to treat something incurable for the past two months.”

In lieu of a response, Ethan takes another drink of water. Across the room, sliding glass doors frame an image of the bay, where storm clouds still circle overhead. “Go to sleep. Things will be better in the morning.”

“I’m… not sure I want to,” Ethan admits, damning the weak state of his voice. “Things might be different when I wake up and I don’t… I’m not sure...”

Right now, he’s stuck in the metaphorical waiting room, waiting to hear if Sloane is alive, and he suddenly doesn’t want those double doors to open. If they do, it could be the Bad News. If they stay shut, if he never hears back from her, then he could exist here in this limbo, where he’s free to hope for the best outcome.

He thinks of her on that rooftop earlier this year, of how she’d told that man about how important it was to say goodbye. And now he may never get that chance.

This is all a simple overreaction, brought on by the distance between them (the literal and figurative -- both of which are his fault) and his own insecurities. There’s no proof she was on that train or that she was even working today. But he can’t trust being positive -- it’s a viewpoint that’s let him down too many times this past year. So, he considers the Worst Possible Thing and picks at it like a scab.

“When are you going to tell her?”

Ethan can’t help the dry chuckle that escapes him as he shakes his head at the question.

“I almost did, months ago. And now, with everything else... never.”

“That doesn’t seem fair -- to you, or to her. She deserves to know, and you deserve to tell her.”

“It probably isn’t that serious,” he says (lies). “It’s simply a release of dopamine and serotonin, an attachment formed over a high-stress field of work. It’s a normal reaction--”

“Frailty, thy name is Ethan,” Naveen mutters with a sigh. “This isn’t an NBIO class. This is your life.”

He’s too far gone to withhold the wince at Naveen’s words.

“A life I walked away from,” Ethan points out. “I left her, didn’t bother to return her calls, knowing she would eventually stop.”

“And did she?”

“No,” he admits, dragging in a breath at the admission. Staring up at the ceiling, he listens to the rain as it pounds against the back deck. “So why now… this time -- why hasn’t she called me back?”

The cushion next to him rustles as the older man stands, casting a look over him. Ethan resists the childish urge to tug the blanket up over his face when Naveen reaches down to pat his cheek, a fond grin on his face, embodying an optimism that Ethan can’t trust himself to feel.

“You wouldn’t have fallen in love with her if she were the type of doctor to shirk her duties, now, would you?” Before he can come up with a retort for that, Naveen continues. “Now, listen to your teacher. Go to sleep.”  

With that, he moves to switch off the nearby lamp and continues on down to the hall. Ethan can hear the muffled noise of him getting ready for bed, and then nothing but the rain. It never slows, instead continuing its steady beat against the house. Eventually, the warmth of the liquor in his stomach and the white noise of the rainfall pulls him into a reluctant sleep.

Forty minutes later, tucked between his fingers, his phone vibrates steadily against his chest once before the battery gives out and the screen goes black.

+

He wakes to coffee.

Not the smell of it, but a white container of it, the green mermaid coyly smiling up at him from the wicker coffee table. In black marker, Evan is scrawled across the negative space, the boxes all marked correctly.

Sitting up, he takes a sip and tries to will away the immediate throbbing in his head. Outside, the morning is bright. The only evidence of the night’s storm is the color of the deck, still damp and colored a deep burgundy. He makes his way over to the doors to pull the blinds across when a bright spot against the deck catches his attention. It’s a pair of sneakers, a teal-blue, save for the little pink check marks on the side.

Shoving the door across its track, Ethan stumbles out and looks right -- where Sloane looks up from the view she’s enjoying, her own coffee poised at her lips. She’s sprawled in one of the Adirondack chairs, a towel between her and the wet wood.

“Good morning,” she greets.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The words are out of his mouth before he can consider them.

For her part, Sloane simply raises an eyebrow at the rough tone.

“Wow, all right, Naveen was right. Hungover Ethan is not a morning person.” She pushes up from the chair and makes her way over to him as she talks. “I got your text -- and your twenty-eight missed calls -- once my shift ended. I tried calling you back, but it went straight to voicemail.”

He retrieves the phone from his pocket, palming the black screen that refuses to wake at his touch. The phone he forgot to put on charge, given how inebriated he was. “So,” she continues, “I called Naveen, who sent a car for me this morning. He’s gone, by the way -- he left shortly after I arrived, said he was heading for warmer waters in Fort Lauderdale. He instructed me, and by extension you, I presume, to enjoy the house for the remainder of the weekend.”

When he says nothing in return and continues to watch her with that same bewildered expression on his face, Sloane shifts her stance, then shifts again. “I’ve been suspended, for what happened with Mrs. Martinez, and I don’t know if I’ll have a job come Monday, and after yesterday -- or last night, or whatever,” she waves a hand in the air, still foggy after catching five hours of sleep, with one of those being in the car ride across the bay. “And even though I wasn’t sure where we stood exactly, you were the only person I wanted to see after… all of that.”

She stops talking, giving him an opening.

And still, nothing.

Down at the water’s edge, seagulls call out to one another, bobbing up and down on the waves. To the north, the shore curls back towards them, the shadowed land a deep blue. Boxes of white and gray and blue sit atop the sand. Strips of high grass create a frame for the beach homes, the green fronds rippling in the wind coming off the water. Puffy clouds loom to the southwest, a promise of more rain.  

“I thought you died.”

The sudden admission from him brings her up short.

“I was working triage for eleven hours. You expect me to pull out my phone and keep up with snap streaks at a time like that?”

His brows furrow at the term he can’t place.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I know. It’s probably one of those weird things I like about you, but it still doesn’t--” she pauses when Ethan steps closer. He grasps her shoulder, his other hand tipping her chin up to meet her gaze.

“What I meant was that I thought I’d lost you before… anything could really begin.”

Sloane brings her hand up to cover his where he cradles her cheek, gently shaking her head.

“We already had something. And then you quit. You left.” She bites at her lip, silencing the rest of what she wants to say, but they both hear the addition she doesn’t voice: you left me. “And then when I hear from you again, it’s a slew of voicemails of you drunkenly demanding to assure you that I’m alive. Which I understand, but I was hoping you would want to talk to me about what happened. That you would want to talk with me because you wanted to, not to make sure I hadn’t been crushed to death in a subway accident.”

Her harsh phrasing causes him to wince, bringing forth smudged memories of last night’s dreams, of his hands covered in her blood, of her begging him to just hold her hand because there was nothing else that could be done for her.  

Unable to stop himself, he leans down and drops a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, trying to convey so much into such paltry words. “I am. I was selfish. I walked away from Edenbrook because I don’t deserve to call myself a physician, but I… I shouldn’t have walked away from the most important thing: us.”

Stretching up on her toes, Sloane presses her lips against his cheek. His eyes flutter closed at the familiar touch, cursing himself for what an idiot he was to walk away from this woman.

“I still don’t agree with your reason for quitting, but I can’t claim that I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your position, given your history with Naveen.”

“He’s taught me everything I know.” Ethan sighs, tipping his head down to rest against hers. Her arms encircle him, pulling him into an embrace. “The most important of which is that not everything is under my control. Applying and understanding that notion, however, is the real problem.”

He feels her sigh against him, the sound of it a balm to his nerves. How he could’ve ever blamed the love he feels for her on nothing more than neurochemicals causes a bolt of shame to course through him.

“It’ll take time,” Sloane says. “I may understand the reason behind your sudden… departure, but it doesn’t excuse how you went about it. I get the need to burrow into yourself and have some time alone to figure things out, but you can’t shut me out completely in the process. I’ll be right here to help you, but only if you let me.”

Swallowing around the tight feeling in his throat, he murmurs another apology and kisses the crown of her head, ruffling her hair with his next question.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” she assures, humming contentedly as she tips her head up to meet him for a proper kiss.

It’s a catalyst, a spark to the overwhelming need in the both of them. Ethan moves; his fingers card through her hair, hanging onto her for dear life as he backs her up against the door, his lips only parting from hers when his lungs demand it. Taking the detour that the curve of her throat offers, he nips at the skin there, pleased when it flushes pink from his attention. That base, human need to have curls up in his belly and spreads outward, warming his limbs and singing in his blood.

Sloane whimpers under the warm swipe of his tongue as he soothes the rosy skin he’s bitten. Her hands aren’t idle, though; she moves up between them to unbutton his shirt, her deft fingers making quick work of it.

Inside his head, he’s telling her how much he needs her, how much he wants this, wants her, wants them for as long as the foreseeable future allows (and forever beyond that, if that’s something she wants, too). What he says instead is her name, rasping it out when she takes control and pivots them, forcing him up against the house. The shingles dig into his back but he can’t bring himself to care as Sloane makes her own path down his chest, shoving his shirt panels aside and rounding on his nipple. The sudden warm heat of her mouth against the chill morning air is enough to remind him of where exactly they’re trying to have each other.

“Wait,” he croaks out, reaching for her as she pulls away, “not here. Someone… the neighbors, they might see.”

A slow smile spreads across her face, her eyes sparkling as she holds out a hand and wiggles her fingers.

“Come with me, then.”

He takes her hand and lets her lead him through the living room and down the hall, where he teases her that she doesn’t know where she’s going, which she proceeds to prove when she opens the closet door and then the guest bathroom.

They eventually make it to an actual bedroom, where he closes the door while she wanders over to the patio doors. Throwing open the white curtains, she lets natural light fill the space. Outside, the hazy blur of rain has moved closer, hovering just off shore. The clouds mute the harsh light of the sun, softening the lines of the room, lengthening the shadows that play across the hardwood.

Drawn to her, Ethan slides his arms around her waist and tugs her into his chest, enjoying the little hitch in her breath. Her fingers dig into his arm, keeping him there (as if he’d go anywhere else).

Dipping his head down, he trails lazy kisses down her neck. The flimsy cardigan she wears falls away easily, slipping off her shoulders. A ragged breath from her urges him on. His lips explore her newly-exposed skin, where clusters of freckles form constellations along the curve of her shoulder. His hands move underneath the blouse she wears, his fingers grazing the warm skin of her hips. She reaches up towards the ceiling, letting him pull the shirt up and off.

And, as always, she’s five steps ahead of him and already wiggling out of her jeans before he can work those off her.

“I’ve waited two weeks -- I’m not really interested in taking things slow this time,” she admits, glancing back at him with that smug look of hers.

He can’t help but mirror her grin as he unhooks her bra.

Frustrated with his slow teasing, Sloane tosses the garment to the floor and starts to turn around when he stops her with a firm grip on her hips, holding her in place. Keeping his movements slow, he gathers her hair and sweeps it over her shoulder. Planting a hand on the arch of her spine, he nudges her forward until she’s forced against the door. She hisses as her chest presses up against the cool glass. Her palms flatten across the smooth surface, her nails trying to dig in for purchase. Starting at the base of her neck, he moves down her vertebral column, his teeth skimming along her skin. More freckles rest along the stretch of her back, fading as they drift towards her spine. Ethan follows their path with his mouth, pleased when he feels her shiver, when he sees the goosebumps that appear in the wake of his wet kisses.

Leaning back, he takes a moment to admire the view she presents, flushed and arched and waiting. For him, he reminds himself as he presses the heel of his hand against his groin, desperate for friction.

Sloane grumbles his name, glaring at him over her shoulder, those pupils of hers blown wide. Her hips do an impatient little wiggle. He strikes, gripping them tight and holding her fast against him. Tracing the edge of her underwear, he slides his fingertips down the lacy fabric, pleased when he finds it damp. This time, his name comes as a groan as Sloane spreads her legs to give him better access.

The sight of her is almost too much. Attempting to expel the need to have her right then and there, he detours -- nipping at her shoulder before stroking her through the lace. A whine escapes her as she tips her head up and all that auburn hair falls like a wave down her back. It brushes his chest and the flowery scent of it combined with the salty taste of her skin is more potent than any tumbler of top shelf liquor.

He works his fingers against her, fast, and then faster, circling her clit. Her hips make aborted little thrusts; her breath fogs the glass in short, heady pants. She’s so wet against his hand, which he can’t help but whisper against her ear, grinning at the shiver that runs through her, knowing that she’s close.

Then he drops his hand and steps back. Before she can voice the words of protest he sees building in her eyes, he spins her around and crowds her up against the glass.

“You’re such an ass.” Her lips brush his as he kisses her once, then again, so he can feel the smile on her face as she says it. His nerves hum with anticipation as she runs both hands up his chest and across his shoulders, grabbing two handfuls of his shirt and stripping it from him.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises. Before she can ask just how he plans on doing so, Ethan drops to his knees.

Sloane cards a hand through his hair, humming at the sight of him. Leaning forward, he mouths at the lacy edge of her underwear; it tickles his tongue as he presses a lazy, wet kiss against her through the fabric. Peeling her underwear off, Ethan drapes her left leg over his shoulder and rubs his stubble along her inner thigh. Like a Pavlovian response, she tilts her hips upwards, silently begging for his touch.

Having mercy on her, he caves, licking a long stripe across her folds. Arousal pools low in his belly at the taste of her, at the clench of her grip in his hair as she guides him to where she needs him most. His gentle grazes along her sex quickly give way to a full-on assault; his fingers part her wider and his tongue flattens against her clit, increasing the pressure as she voices her need for it.

Their gazes lock and he’s overcome with the image of her above him, backlit by the milky light of morning, her skin flushed, her lips parted; his Epione, a Greek goddess come to life.  

“Oh, fuck,” Sloane groans, her breath stuttering as she ascends to her peak. The glass squeals under her sweaty palm as she tries her best to keep upright, her other hand holding him steady so he can continue fucking her with his tongue. “Ethan, please, I--”

Cresting, she breaks apart, shuddering as an orgasm floods through her. He guides her down from her high with gentle kisses across her thigh and then up, trailing along the curve of her hip bone. Following the lines of her body up with his hands, Ethan gets to his feet. Where he’s quickly pulled into a messy kiss, the low thrum of his arousal swelling when her tongue peeks out for a taste of herself on his lips.

“I want to fuck you here.” His cock strains against the confines of his clothing. Nipping at the flushed skin of her throat, he groans when she reaches down to cup him through his pants. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” she tells him, using that medically-trained efficiency of hers to strip him of his remaining garments. Dancing her fingers up his length, she circles a thumb across the head.

Against his neck, Ethan can feel the bloom of her grin as he bucks up into her touch. His hands wrap around her thighs and lift her until she’s pinned between him and the glass. Here, he considers as Sloane tightens her legs around his waist, as she swipes her tongue at his bottom lip, encouraging him to open up to her for a deeper kiss -- here is where he should say those three little words, stitch them all together into a coherent phrase. Not a half-assed admission after watching her nearly be pulled to her death, or a terrified mantra in a nightmare as her eyes dull and her hand loosens in his.

But now -- now she’s biting at his lip and writhing against him, her breath hot on his skin and it’s all too much to consider anything else but having her. Gripping his cock, he lines himself up at her entrance and drives into her. His hips roll up into hers, pleasure coursing through him as she meets his thrusts, her sweat-slicked thighs clenching around him.

In all his dreams, he’s forced to let go -- he holds on for dear life, now -- now that she’s here and real and begging him to fuck her.

Just beyond the door, they can hear the rain. It draws closer; that soft, gentle hiss drumming against the sand and then the deck and then the glass. The steady noise of it acts as a buffer between them and the rest of the world. The beach and the bay, their worries and their responsibilities -- all of it dulls to a distant blur, leaving only the two of them.

“Sloane,” he calls out her name with a groan.

“I’m here,” she tells him, without him ever realizing it was a question he needed answered until then. “Oh, god, Ethan -- I’m…”

“Come for me,” he hisses, meeting her for another bruising kiss.

Her breathing stutters for a moment, then -- fireworks, explosions, an entire galactic collapse plays out in her heavy-lidded eyes. The feeling of her is too much -- she’s a cocktail of pleasure and adrenaline straight to his heart, leaving him breathless and dizzy as he follows her over the edge.

Gathering her close, Ethan carries her over to the bed and crawls in to rest beside her. She rolls to lay against his chest, one leg draped over his. His breath hitches when Sloane drops a kiss to his chest, right over where his heart pounds.

He opens his mouth to tell her.

“Sloane, I--”

“Oh, shit,” she says suddenly, lifting off his chest to turn her concerned gaze to the patio door. “I left my coffee out there.”

It’s the unexpectedness of it (and the fact that she cut off his admission of love to her to bemoan the loss of her beverage) that draws a chuckle out of him that she joins in on.

“I’ll buy you another when we go into town later for lunch.” He seals the deal with a kiss. “Much, much later,” he amends as he cups her bare bottom. Sloane works herself closer to deepen their kiss.

“What were you going to say, before I interrupted?”

Ethan drags in a breath and swallows back every insecurity-laced deflection that his brain immediately concocts.

“That I love you.”

“Oh.” This time, he gets to see that smile of hers bloom across her face. “I love you, too.”

And outside, the rain beats steadily on.   

#ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan ramsey x mc #choices open heart #open heart #choices #f: the metaphor series #Kaila writes things #please enjoy this very extended sex scene that's probably entirely too long #also hoping this actually shows up in the tag this time #I will properly add the hyperlinks momentarily

[e-tag]

Billboard Top 100 Songs of 1980 - 5+ HOURS OF NON-STOP MUSIC! 5:43:52

----- TRACK LIST ----- 0:00:00 - 01. Blondie - Call Me 0:03:33 - 02. Pink Floyd - Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2) 0:07:35 - 03. Olivia Newton-John - Magic 0:12:06 - 04. Michael Jackson - Rock with You 0:15:47 - 05. Captain & Tenille - Do That to Me One More Time 0:19:41 - 06. Queen - Crazy Little Thing Called Love 0:22:26 - 07. Paul McCartney - Coming Up 0:26:18 - 08. Lipps, Inc. - Funkytown 0:00:00 - 09. Billy Joel - It's Still Rock & Roll to Me* 0:30:16 - 10. Bette Midler - The Rose 0:33:58 - 11. Rupert Holmes - Escape (The Pina Colada Song) 0:38:34 - 12. Gary Numan - Cars 0:42:28 - 13. Smokey Robinson - Crusin' 0:46:57 - 14. The Spinners - Working My Way Back to You/Forgive Me, Girl 0:00:00 - 15. Air Supply - Lost in Love* 0:50:57 - 16. Elton John - Little Jeannie 0:00:00 - 17. Christopher Cross - Ride Like the Wind* 0:00:00 - 18. Diana Ross - Upside Down* 0:56:13 - 19. KC & The Sunshine Band - Please Don't Go 1:00:06 - 20. Styx - Babe 1:04:32 - 21. Billy Preston & Syreeta - With You I'm Born Again 1:08:11 - 22. The Manhattans - Shining Star 1:12:52 - 23. Commodores - Still 1:16:34 - 24. Teri Desario & KC - Yes, I'm Ready 1:19:49 - 25. Dr. Hook - Sexy Eyes 1:22:50 - 26. Robbie Dupree - Steal Away 1:26:16 - 27. Ambrosia - Biggest Part of Me 1:30:25 - 28. Kenny Loggins - This Is It 1:34:25 - 29. The Spinners - Cupid/I've Loved You for a Long Time 1:38:17 - 30. Jermaine Jackson - Let's Get Serious 1:46:13 - 31. Kenny Rogers & Kim Carnes - Don't Fall in Love with a Dreamer 0:00:00 - 32. Christopher Cross - Sailing* 1:49:56 - 33. Dan Fogelberg - Longer 1:53:10 - 34. Kenny Rogers - Coward of the County 1:57:31 - 35. Kool & The Gang - Ladies Night 0:00:00 - 36. Kool & The Gang - Too Hot* 2:00:57 - 37. SOS Band - Take Your Time (Do It Right) 2:04:29 - 38. Barbra Streisand & Donna Summer - No More Tears (Enough Is Enough) 2:16:12 - 39. Kim Carnes - More Love 2:19:47 - 40. M - Pop Muzik 2:23:03 - 41. The Pretenders - Brass in Pocket 2:26:08 - 42. Ray, Goodman & Brown - Special Lady 2:29:47 - 43. Stevie Wonder - Send One Your Love 2:33:48 - 44. Shalamar - The Second Time Around 2:41:02 - 45. Cliff Richard - We Don't Talk Anymore 2:45:14 - 46. The Brothers Johnson - Stomp 0:00:00 - 47. The Eagles - Heartache Tonight* 2:51:35 - 48. Rocky Burnette - Tired of Toein' the Line 2:55:11 - 49. Dr. Hook - Better Love Next Time 2:58:15 - 50. Rupert Holmes - Him 0:00:00 - 51. Bob Seger - Against the Wind* 3:01:52 - 52. Donna Summer - On the Radio 3:09:27 - 53. The Rolling Stones - Emotional Rescue 3:15:08 - 54. Herb Alpert - Rise 0:00:00 - 55. Air Supply - All Out of Love* 3:22:46 - 56. Little River Band - Cool Change 3:27:55 - 57. JD Souther - You're Only Lonely 3:31:40 - 58. Andy Gibb - Desire 3:36:07 - 59. Pete Townshend - Let My Love Open the Door 3:38:50 - 60. Steve Forbert - Romeo's Tune 3:42:23 - 61. Anne Murray - Daydream Believer 0:00:00 - 62. The Eagles - I Can't Tell You Why* 3:44:47 - 63. Issac Hayes - Don't Let Go 3:52:10 - 64. Tom Petty - Don't Do Me Like That 3:54:53 - 65. Michael Jackson - She's Out of My Life 3:58:31 - 66. Irene Cara - Fame 4:02:20 - 67. Bob Seger - Fire Lake 4:05:51 - 68. Linda Ronstadt - How Do I Make You 4:08:16 - 69. Benny Mardones - Into the Night 4:12:48 - 70. Pure Prairie League - Let Me Love You Tonight 4:15:31 - 71. Genesis - Misunderstanding 0:00:00 - 72. Nitty Gritty Dirt Band & Linda Ronstadt - An American Dream* 4:18:43 - 73. Carole King - One Fine Day 4:21:14 - 74. Donna Summer - Dim All the Lights 0:00:00 - 75. Billy Joel - You May Be Right* 4:25:26 - 76. Neil Sedaka & Dara Sedaka - Should've Never Let You Go 4:29:43 - 77. Charlie Dore - Pilot of the Airways 4:33:04 - 78. Linda Ronstadt - Hurt So Bad 4:36:14 - 79. Michael Jackson - Off the Wall 4:40:22 - 80. Peaches & Herb - I Pledge My Love 0:00:00 - 81. The Eagles - The Long Run* 4:44:36 - 82. Mickey Gilley - Stand by Me 4:48:17 - 83. Pat Benatar - Heartbreaker 4:51:45 - 84. Dionne Warwick - Deja Vu 4:55:37 - 85. Eddie Rabbitt - Drivin' My Life Away 4:58:51 - 86. Supertramp - Take the Long Way Home 0:00:00 - 87. Fleetwood Mac - Sara* 0:00:00 - 88. Hall & Oates - Wait for Me* 5:03:47 - 89. Boz Scaggs - Jo Jo 5:09:40 - 90. Neil Diamond - September Morn 5:13:33 - 91. George Benson - Give Me the Night 5:17:17 - 92. Anne Murray - Broken Hearted Me 5:21:15 - 93. Kenny Rogers - You Decorated My Life 0:00:00 - 94. Fleetwood Mac - Tusk* 0:00:00 - 95. Prince - I Wanna Be Your Lover* 5:24:56 - 96. Charlie Daniels Band - In America 5:28:15 - 97. Boz Scaggs - Breakdown Dead Ahead 5:32:51 - 98. Barry Manilow - Ships 5:36:51 - 99. Joe Walsh - All Night Long 5:40:29 - 100. Tom Petty - Refugee

*Due to YouTube copyright policies, this song cannot be played on YouTube. Sorry about that.

[atheistcartoons]

Thanks to the heroic work of Catherine Corless, here are the names of the seven hundred and ninety-six children who died in a Tuam mother and baby home run by the Catholic Church in collusion with the government in Ireland, and whose bodies were thrown into a septic tank at the site pictured above. 

This was one mother and baby home. There is evidence to suggest that we can expect similar results from the many other Irish mother and baby homes (and this is without talking about Magdalene Laundries).

I’m not putting any of this under a Read More link. I’m just not.

1925

Patrick Derrane 5 months Mary Blake 4 months Matthew Griffin 3 months Mary Kelly 6 months Peter Lally 11 months Julia Hynes 1 year James Murray 1 month

1926

Joseph McWilliam 6 months John Mullen 3 months Mary Wade 3 years Maud McTigue 6 years Bernard Lynch 3 years Martin Shaughnessy 18 months Bridget Glynn 1 year Margaret Glynn 1 year Patrick Gorham 21 months Patrick O’Connell 1 year John Carty 21 months Madeline Bernard 2 years Maureen Kenny 8 years Kathleen Donohue 1 year Thomas Donelan 2 years Mary Quilan 2 years Mary King 9 months Mary Warde 21 months George Coyne 2 years Julia Cummins 18 months Barbara Fola/ Wallace 9 months Pauline Carter 11 months Mary Walsh 1 year Annie Stankard 10 months John Connelly 9 months Anthony Cooke 1 month Michael Casey 3 years Annie McCarron 2 months Patricia Dunne 2 months John Carty 3 months Peter McNamara 7 weeks Mary Shaughnessy 4 months Joseph Coen 5 months Mary Murphy 2 months Patrick Kelly 2 months Martin Rabbitte 6 weeks Kathleen Quinn 7 months Patrick Halpin 2 months Martin McGuinness 6 months

1927

Mary Kate Connell 3 months Patrick Raftery 7 months Patrick Paterson 5 months James Murray 1 month Colman O’ Loughlin 5 months Agnes Canavan 18 months Christina Lynch 15 months Mary O’Loughlin 6 months Annie O’ Connor 15 months John Greally 11 months Joseph Fenigan 4 years Mary Connolly 2 months James Muldoon 4 months Joseph Madden 3 months Mary Devaney 18 months

1928

Michael Gannon 6 months Bridget Cunningham 2 months Margaret Conneely 18 months Patrick Warren 8 months James Mulryan 1 month Mary Kate Fahey 3 years Mary Mahon 1 month Martin Flanagan 1 month Mary Forde 4 months Patrick Hannon 20 months Michael Donellan 6 months Joseph Ward 7 months Walter Jordan 3 years Mary Mullins 1 month

1929

Peter Christian 7 months Mary Cunningham 5 months James Ryan 9 months Patrick O’Donnell 9 months Mary Monaghan 4 years Patrick O’Malley 1 year Philomena Healy 11 months Michael Ryan 1 year Patrick Curran 6 months Patrick Fahy 2 months Laurence Molloy 5 months Patrick Lynskey 6 months Vincent Nally 21 months Mary Grady 18 months Martin Gould 21 months Patrick Kelly 2 months

1930

Bridget Quinn 1 year William Reilly 9 months George Lestrange 7 months Christy Walshe 15 months Margaret Mary Gagen 1 year Patrick Moran 4 months Celia Healy 5months James Quinn 4 years Bridget Walsh 15months

1931

Patrick Shiels 4 months Mary Teresa Drury 1 year Peter O’Brien 18 months Peter Malone 18 months Carmel Moylan 8 months Mary Burke 10 months Mary Josephine Garvey 5 months Mary Warde 10 months Catherine Howley 9 months Michael Pat McKenna 3 months Richard Raftery 3 months

1932

Margaret Doorhy 8 months Patrick Leonard 9 months Mary Coyne 1 year Mary Kate Walsh 2 years Christina Burke 1 year Mary Margaret Jordan 18 months John Joseph McCann 8 months Teresa McMullan 1 year George Gavin 1 year Joseph O’Boyle 2 months Peter Nash 1 year Bridget Galvin 3 months Margaret Niland 3 years Christina Quinn 3 months Kathleen Cloran 9 years Annie Sullivan 8 months Patricia Judge 1 year Mary Birmingham 9 months Laurence Hill 11 months Brendan Patrick Pender 1 month Kate Fitzmaurice 4 months Baby Mulkerrins 5 days Angela Madden 3 months Mary McDonagh 1 year

1933

Mary C Shaughnessy 1 month Mary Moloney 11 months Patrick Joseph Brennan 1 months Anthony O’Toole 2 months Mary Cloherty 9days Joseph Fahy 10 months Mary Finola Cunniffe 6 months Martin Cassidy 5 months Francis Walsh 3 months Mary Garvey 4 months Kathleen Gilchrist 8 months Mary Kate Walsh 1 months Eileen Fallon 18 months Harry Leonard 3 years Mary Kate Guilfoyle 3 months John Callinan 3 months John Kilmartin 2 months Julia Shaughnessy 3 months Patrick Prendergast 6 months Bridgid Holland 2 months Bridgid Moran 15 months Margaret Mary Fahy 15 months Bridgid Ryan 9 months Mary Brennan 4 months Mary Conole 1 months John Flattery 2 years Margaret Donohue 10 months Joseph Dunn 3 years Owen Lenane 2 months Josephine Steed 3 months Mary Meeneghan 3 months James McIntyre 4 months

1934

John Joseph Murphy 4 months Margaret Mary O’Gara 2 months Eileen Butler 2 months Thomas Molloy 2 months James Joseph Bodkin 6 months John Kelly 2 months Mary Walshe 6 months Mary Jo Colohan 4 months Florence Conneely 7 months Norah McCann 1 months Mary Kelly 9 months Rose O’Dowd 6 months Mary Egan 4 months Michael Concannon 4 months Paul Joyce 10 months Mary Christina Kennedy 4 months Bridget Finnegan 2 months Mary Flaherty 3 months Thomas McDonagh 4 months Joseph Hoey 1 year Sheila Tuohy 9 years Teresa Cunniffe 3 months Joseph Clohessy 2 months Mary Kiely 4 months Thomas Cloran 6 months Mary Burke 3 months Mary Marg Flaherty 4 months John Keane 17 days Luke Ward 15 months Mary O’Reilly 5 months

1935

Ellen Mountgomery 18 months Mary Elizabeth Lydon 4 months Brigid Madden 1 month Mary Margaret Murphy 4 months Mary Nealon 7 months Stephen Linnane 4 months Josephine Walsh 1 years Kate Cunningham 2 months Mary Bernadet Hibbett 1 month Thomas Linnane 4 months Patrick Lane 3 months Mary Anne Conway 2 months James Kane 8 months Christopher Leech 3 months Elizabeth Ann McCann 5 months Margaret Mary Coen 2 months Michael Linnane 15months Bridget Glenane 5 weeks

1936

John O’Toole 7 months John Creshal 4 months Mary Teresa Egan 3 months Michael Boyle 3 months Anthony Mannion 6 weeks Donald Dowd 5 months Peter Ridge 4 months Eileen Collins 2 months Mary Brennan 2 months James Fahy 5 months Mary Bridget Larkin 8 months Margaret Scanlon 3 years Brian O’Malley 4 months Michael Madden 6 months

1937

Mary Kate Cahill 2 weeks Mary Margaret Lydon 3 months Festus Sullivan 1 month Annie Curley 3 weeks Nuala Lydon 5 months Bridget Collins 5 weeks Patrick Joseph Coleman 1 month Joseph Hannon 6 weeks Henry Monaghan 3 weeks Michael Joseph Shiels 7 weeks Martin Sheridan 5 weeks John Patrick Loftus 10 months Patrick Joseph Murphy 3 months Catherine McHugh 4 months Mary Patricia Toher 4 months Mary Kate Sheridan 4 months Mary Flaherty 19 months Mary Anne Walsh 14 months Eileen Quinn 2 years Patrick Burke 9 months Margaret Holland 2 days Joseph Langan 6 months Sabina Pauline O’Grady 6 months Patrick Qualter 3 years Mary King 5 months Eileen Conry 1 year

1938

Mary Nee 4 months Martin Andrew Larkin 14 months Mary Keane 3 weeks Kathleen V Cuffe 6 months Margaret Linnane 4 months Teresa Heneghan 3 months John Neary 7 months Patrick Madden 4 months Mary Cafferty 2 months Mary Kate Keane 3 months Patrick Hynes 3 weeks Annie Solan 2 months Charles Lydon 9 months Margaret Mullins 7 months Mary Mulligan 2 months Anthony Lally 5 months Joseph Spelman 6 weeks Annie Begley 3 months Vincent Egan 1 week Nora Murphy 5 months Patrick Garvey 6 months Patricia Burke 4 months Winifred Barret 2 years Agnes Marron 3 months Christopher Kennedy 5 months Patrick Harrington 1 week

1939

Kathleen Devine 2 years Vincent Garaghan 1 month Ellen Gibbons 6 months Michael McGrath 4 months Edward Fraser 3 months Bridget Lally 1 year Patrick McLoughlin 5 months Martin Healy 4 months Nora Duffy 3 months Margaret Higgins 1 week Patrick Egan 6 months Vincent Farragher 11 months Patrick Joseph Jordan 3 months Michael Hanley 1 month Catherine Gilmore 3 months Baby Carney 1 day Annie Coyne 3 months Helena Cosgrave 5 months Thomas Walsh 2 months Baby Walsh 1 day Kathleen Hession 4 months Brigid Hurley 11 months Ellen Beegan 2 months Mary Keogh 1 year Bridget Burke 3 months

1940

Martin Reilly 9 months Martin Hughes 11 months Mary Connolly 1 month Mary Kate Ruane 1 month Joseph Mulchrone 3 months Michael Williams 14 months Martin Moran 7 weeks Josephine Mahony 2 months James Henry 5 weeks Bridget Staunton 5 months John Creaven 2 weeks Peter Lydon 6 weeks Patrick Joseph Ruane 4 months Michael Quinn 8 months Julia Coen 1 week Annie McAndrew 5 months John Walsh 3 months Patrick Flaherty 6 months Bernadette Purcell 2 years Joseph Macklin 1 day Thomas Duffy 2 days Elizabeth Fahy 4 months James Kelly 2 months Nora Gallagher 4 months Kathleen Cannon 4 months Winifred Tighe 8 months Christopher Williams 1 year Joseph Lynch 1 year Andrew McHugh 15 months William Glennan 18 months Michael J Kelly 5 months Patrick Gallagher 3 months Michael Gerard Keane 2 months Ellen Lawless 6 months

1941

Mary Finn 3 months Martin Timlin 3 months Mary McLoughlin 1 month Mary Brennan 5 months Patrick Dominic Egan 1 month Nora Thornton 17 months Anne Joyce 1 year Catherine Kelly 10 months Michael Monaghan 8 months Simon John Hargraves 6 months Baby Forde 1 day Joseph Byrne 2 months Patrick Hegarty 4 months Patrick Corcoran 1 month James Leonard 16 days Jane Gormley 22 days Anne Ruane 11 days Patrick Munnelly 3 months John Lavelle 6 weeks Patrick Ruane 24 days Patrick Joseph Quinn 3 months Joseph Kennelly 15 days Kathleen Monaghan 3 months Baby Quinn 2 days Anthony Roche 4 months Annie Roughneen 3 weeks Anne Kate O’Hara 4 months Patrick Joseph Nevin 3 months John Joseph Hopkins 3 months Thomas Gibbons 1 month Winifred McTigue 7 months Thomas Joseph Begley 2 months

1942

Kathleen Heneghan 25 days Elizabeth Murphy 4 months Nora Farnan 1 month Teresa Tarpey 1 month Margaret Carey 11 months John Garvey 6 weeks Bridget Goldrick 4 months Bridget White 3 months Noel Slattery 1 month Mary T Connaughton 4 months Nora McCormack 6 weeks Joseph Hefferon 5 months Mary Higgins 9 days Mary Farrell 21 days Mary McDonnell 1 month Geraldine Cunniffe 11 weeks Michael Mannion 3 months Bridget McHugh 7 months Mary McEvady 18 months Helena Walsh 3 months William McDoell 2 days Michael Finn 14 months Mary Murphy 10 months Gertrude Glynn 6 months Joseph Flaherty 7 weeks Mary O’Malley 4 years John P Callanan 13 days Baby McDonnell 1 day Female McDonnell 1 day Christopher Burke 9 months Stephen Connolly 8 months Mary Atkinson 6 months Mary Anne Finegan 7 weeks Francis Richardson 15 months Michael John Rice 6 months Nora Carr 4 months William Walsh 16 months Vincent Cunnane 14 months Eileen Coady 10 months Female Roache 1 day Male Roache 1 day Patrick Flannery 2 months John Dermody 3 months Margaret Spellman 4 months Austin Nally 3 months Margaret Dolan 3 months Vincent Finn 9 months Bridget Grogan 6 months

1943

Thomas Patrick Cloran 9 weeks Catherine Devere 1 month Mary Josephine Glynn 1 day Annie Connolly 9 months Martin Cosgrove 7 weeks Catherine Cunningham 2 years Bridget Hardiman 2 months Mary Grier 5 months Mary P McCormick 2 months Brendan Muldoon 5 weeks Nora Moran 7 months Joseph Maher 20 days Teresa Dooley 3 months Daniel Tully 7 months Brendan Durkan 1 month Sheila O’Connor 3 months Annie Coen 6 months Patrick J Kennedy 6 days Thomas Walsh 2 months Patrick Rice 1 year Edward McGowan 10 months Brendan Egan 10 months Margaret McDonagh 1 month Annie J Donellan 10 months Thomas Walsh 14 days Bridget Quinn 6 months Mary Mulkerins 5 weeks Kathleen Parkinson 10 months Sheila Madeline Flynn 4 months Patrick Joseph Maloney 2 months Bridget Carney 7 months Mary M O’Connor 6 months Joseph Geraghty 3 months Annie Coen 10 months Martin Joseph Feeney 4 months Anthony Finnegan 3 months Patrick Coady 3 months Baby Cunningham 1 day Annie Fahy 3 months Baby Byrne 1 day Patrick Mullaney 18 months Thomas Connelly 3 months Mary Larkin 2 months Margaret Kelly 4 months Barbara McDonagh 4 months Mary O’Brien 4 months Keiran Hennelly 14 months Annie Folan 4 months Baby McNamara 1 day Julia Murphy 3 months

1944

John Rockford 4 months Vincent Geraghty 1 year Male O’Brien 2 days Anthony Deane 2 days Mary Teresa O’Brien 15 days John Connelly 3 months Bridget Murphy 3 months Patricia Dunne 2 months Francis Kinahan 1 month Joseph Sweeney 20 days Josephine O’Hagan 6 months Patrick Lavin 1 month Annie Maria Glynn 13 months Kate Agnes Moore 2 months Kevin Kearns 15 months Thomas Doocey 15 months William Conneely 8 months Margaret Spelman 16 months Mary Kate Cullen 22 months Kathleen Brown 3 years Julia Kelly 19 months Mary Connolly 7 years Catherine Harrison 2 years Eileen Forde 21 months Michael Monaghan 2 years Mary Frances Lenihan 3 days Anthony Byrne 6 months Jarlath Thornton 7 weeks John Kelly 6 days Joseph O’Brien 18 months Anthony Hyland 3 months Male Murray 1 day Female Murray 1 day Joseph F McDonnell 11 days Mary Walsh 15 months Baby Glynn 1 day James Gaughan 14 months Margaret Walsh 4 months Mary P Moran 9 days John Francis Malone 7 days

1945

Michael F Dempsey 7 weeks Christina M Greally 4 months Teresa Donnellan 1 month Rose Anne King 5 weeks Christopher J Joyce 2 months James Mannion 8 months Mary T Sullivan 3 weeks Patrick Holohan 11 months Michael Joseph Keane 1 month Bridget Keaney 2 months Joseph Flaherty 8 days Baby Mahady 3 days James Rogers 10 days Kathleen F Taylor 9 months Gerard C Hogan 7 months Kathleen Corrigan 2 months Mary Connolly 3 months Patrick J Farrell 5 months Patrick Laffey 3 years Fabian Hynes 8 months John Joseph Grehan 2 years Edward O’Malley 3 months Mary Fleming 6 months Bridget F McHugh 3 months Michael Folan 18 months Oliver Holland 6 months Ellen Nevin 7 months Margaret Horan 6 months Peter Mullarky 4 months Mary P O’Brien 4 months Teresa Francis O’Brien 4 months Mary Kennedy 18 months Sarah Ann Carroll 4 months Baby Maye 5 days

1946

Mary Devaney 21 days Anthony McDonnell 6 months Vincent Molloy 7 days John Patrick Lyons 5 months Gerald Aidan Timlin 3 days Patrick Costelloe 17 days John Francis O’Grady 1 month Bridget Mary Flaherty 12 days Josephine Finnegan 20 months Martin McGrath 3 days Baby Haugh 1 day James Frayne 1 month Mary Frances Crealy 14 days Mary Davey 2 months Patrick Joseph Hoban 11 days Angela Dolan 3 months Mary Lyden 5 months Bridget Coneely 4 months Austin O’Toole 4 months Bernard Laffey 5 months Mary Ellen Waldron 8 months Terence O’Boyle 3 months Mary Frances O’Hara 1 month Martin Dermott Henry 43 days Mary Devaney 3 months Bridget Foley 6 months Martin Kilkelly 40 days Theresa Monica Hehir 6 weeks Patrick A Mitchell 3 months John Kearney 5 months John Joseph Kelly 3 months John Conneely 4 months Stephen L O’Toole 2 months Thomas A Buckley 5 weeks Michael John Gilmore 3 months Patrick J Monaghan 3 months Mary Teresa Murray 2 months Patrick McKeighe 2 months John Raymond Feeney 3 months Finbar Noone 2 months John O’Brien 21 days Beatrice Keane 5 years Mary P Veale 5 weeks Winifred Gillespie 1 year Anthony Coen 10 weeks Michael F Sheridan 3 months Anne Holden 3 months Martin Joseph O’Brien 7 weeks Winifred Larkin 1 month

1947

Patrick Thomas Coen 1 month Mary Bridget Joyce 8 months Geraldine Collins 13 months Mary Flaherty 5 days Vincent Keogh 5 months John Francis Healy 10 days Martin J Kennelly 1 month Patrick Keaveney 2 months Philomena Flynn 2 months William Reilly 9 months Margaret N Concannon 1 year Patrick J Fitzpatrick 14days Joseph Cunningham 2 months Mary J Flaherty 13 months Kathleen Murray 3 years John O’Connell 2 years Alphonsus Hanley 21 months Bridget P Muldoon 11 months Patricia C Higgins 5 months Catherine B Kennedy 2 months John Desmond Dolan 15 months Stephen Joynt 2 years Catherine T Kearns 2 years Margaret Hurney 2 years John Patton 2 years Patrick J Williams 15 months Nora Hynes 8 months Anthony Donohue 2 years Brendan McGreal 1 year Anthony Cafferky 23 days Nora Cullinane 18 months Kathleen Daly 2 years Nora Conneely 15 months Mary Teresa Joyce 13 months Kenneth A Ellesmere 1 day Mary P Carroll 4 months Thomas Collins 17 months Margaret M Moloney 3 months Josephine Tierney 8 months Margaret M Deasy 3 months Martin Francis Bane 3 months Bridget Agatha Kenny 2 months Baby Kelly 1 day Mary Teresa Judge 15 months Paul Dominick Bennett 3 months Mary Bridget Giblin 18 months

1948

Kathleen Madden 2 months Mary P Byrne 8 weeks Joseph Byrce 4 months Joseph Byrne 11 months Kathleen Glynn 4 months Augustine Jordan 9 months Michael F Dwyer 18 months Noel C Murphy 14 months Margaret McNamee 6 months Patrick Grealish 6 weeks Bernadette O’Reilly 7 months John Joseph Carr 3 weeks Paul Gardiner 10 months Simon Thomas Folan 9 weeks Joseph Ferguson 3 months Peter Heffernan 4 months Patrick J Killeen 14 weeks Stephen Halloran 7 months Teresa Grealish 5 months John Keane 4 months Mary Burke 9 months Brigid McTigue 3 months Margaret R Broderick 8 months Martin Mannion 3 months 1949

Mary Margaret Riddell 8 months Thomas J Noonan 7 weeks Peter Casey 10 months Michael Scully 3 months Baby Lyons 5 days Hubert McLoughlin 4 months Mary M Finnegan 3 months Nicholas P Morley 3 months Teresa Bane 6 months Patrick J Kennedy 5 weeks Michael Francis Ryan 3 days John Forde 2 years Mary P Cunnane 3 months Margaret P Sheridan 4 months Patrick Joseph Nevin 3 months Joseph Nally 5 months Christopher Burke 3 months Anne Madden 7 weeks Bridget T Madden 7 weeks Thomas Murphy 3 months Francis Carroll 2 months Bridget J Linnan 9 months Josephine Staunton 8 days Mary Ellen McKeigue 7 weeks

1950

Mary J Mulchrone 3 months Catherine Higgins 4 years Catherine Anne Egan 3 months Thomas McQuaid 4 months Dermott Muldoo 4 months Martin Hanley 9 weeks John Joseph Lally 3 months Brendan Larkin 5 months Baby Bell 1 day Mary J Larkin 7 months Annie Fleming 9 months Colm A McNulty 1 month Walter Flaherty 3 months Sarah Burke 15 days Mary Ann Boyle 5 months John Anthony Murphy 5 months Joseph A Colohan 4 months Christopher Begley 18 days

1951

Catherine A Meehan 4 months Martin McLynskey 6 months Mary J Crehan 3 months Mary Ann McDonagh 2 months Joseph Folan 22 days Evelyn Barrett 4 months Paul Morris 4 months Peter Morris 4 months Mary Martyna Joyce 18 months Mary Margaret Lane 7 months

1952

John Noone 4 months Anne J McDonnell 6 months Joseph Anthony Burke 6 months Patrick Hardiman 6 months Patrick Naughton 12 days Josephine T Staunton 21 days John Joseph Mills 5 months

1953

Baby Hastings 1 day Mary Donlon 4 months Nora Connolly 15 months

1954

Anne Heneghan 3 months Mary Keville 9 months Martin Murphy 5 months Mary Barbara Murphy 5 months Mary P Logue 5 months Margaret E Cooke 6 months Mary Ann Broderick 14 months Ann Marian Fahy 4 months Anne Dillon 4 months Imelda Halloran 2 years

1955

Joseph Gavin 10 months Marian Brigid Mulryan 10 months Mary C Rafferty 3 months Nora Mary Howard 4 months Joseph Dempsey 3 months Patrick Walsh 3 weeks Francis M Heaney 3 years

1956

Dermot Gavin 2 weeks Mary C Burke 3 years Patrick Burke 1 year Paul Henry Nee 5 months Oliver Reilly 4 months Gerard Connaughton 11 months Rose Marie Murphy 2 years

1957

Margaret Connaire 4 months Stephen Noel Browne 2 years Baby Fallon 4 days

1958

Geraldine O’Malley 6 months

1959

Dolores Conneely 7 months Mary Maloney 4 months

1960

Mary Carty 5 months

#Tuam babies #Catholic Church #Ireland #misogyny #child abuse

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Pat Rabbitte Former Minister for Communications, Energy and Natural Resources

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Pat Rabbitte