commuters on the train

Worked up this illustration of a couple I saw on the train a few weeks back… I embellished a little on the design; the guy didn’t have this body frame, & neither wore gold, but both carried a powerful sense of Afrikan pride about them, which I loved… People couldn’t take their eyes off them… I loved that too.


More of my work here:

https://m.facebook.com/MaxiMAJiNATiON

I live in Stockholm and there’s been a suspected terror attack. A truck was hijacked and drove down our busiest shopping street, through crowds of people and into a department store.
People are dead.
People are injured.
There’s been a shooting at a different location.
The entire city is on lockdown. Commuter trains, subways and buses are off.
People are locked inside public buildings and their jobs.
Other places evacuated.
All the theaters and cinemas have closed.
The police are discouraging people from walking through specific central areas.
The streets are filled with people who are walking home.

I work at a preschool and we decided to take the children inside, the phones rang warm with parents who would be late, who couldn’t come and pick up their kids.

It doesn’t feel real, they got us too. It felt inevitable, and it was.

Fuck terrorists.

Haikyuu Fic Recs!

So I’m going to premise this rec list by saying that I like fics on the long-side so if you’re looking for short one-shots, you might not find what you’re looking for in this list. I’m not a huge fan of angst (although that doesn’t mean there isn’t any in this list, just not a lot), I enjoy smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) , I like a fair few rarepairs and I like to think that I’m extremely picky when it comes to how something is written, pacing etc. I’ve read all the fics in this list multiple times, they are definitely my all-time favourites. I organized these as best as I could and included the rating, word count and summary from the author for each. 

(Fics with a ♡ beside them are my 100% must-reads.)

Recs are under the cut, happy reading! 

(ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧

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youmeganatsixx  asked:

you dont realise how great scotland is until you move half way across the world and can no longer get irn bru on tap or speak to random people on the train..i tried it. Dont speak to commuters in Toronto. They think you're weird.

I remember when I was in Southampton when I was 19 and was confused when the Pizza Hut didn’t have Irn-Bru on tap. Like, haha what is this place?

That said, a few days later I was sitting on the bench in the park and a homeless man started talking to me. He was one of the very few people that actually started a conversation first. Nice guy, actually. I gave him the rest of my half-bottle of Irn-Bru (of a supply that I brought with me!) and he said he could see why the Scots drink. I politely declined his offer of sharing his can of Tennent’s Super.

Big cities tend to think you’re weird if you start talking to them randomly on the train, at the bus stop, in the pub. Not in Scotland. It’s like something written into our DNA. I’ve had conversations with people on the streets and invited up to random flats not knowing anyone and been greeted like I was a long-lost cousin. “Oh, I didn’t actually bring anyth-”

“Nae borra, big yin” he said as he launched a can of Tennent’s into my hand “that’s whit we keep the cooking lager fur.”

What a beautiful country you are, Scotland.

Allura/Shiro Same Train AU

He killed her. It was awful. They commuted in on the same early train, he got on two stops after she did and they always sat in the same carriage. She had started being very specific about it. It had become part of her routine. Third from the engine, stand near the sun shelter on the platform, go to the second floor, sit by a window, wait.

He had never said a word to her. She had never heard him say anything but they’d fallen into that odd rhythm of familiar strangers. They had started sitting near each other to make sure that when the pack of college stusents got on, they’d be able to command and entire pod of chairs. Another solo commuter might join them now and then but the loud group complaining about professors stayed away. She did her case reviews and he scrolled something, probably email, on his phone.

They didn’t talk.

They just sat in proximity until they got to the city and she got off and he kept going to somewhere else to do God knew what in a decent but not pretentious suit.

It would have been nice if he was a middle aged woman. No. It was nice. It was just that he killed her because he was gorgeous and silent and not interested and why couldn’t she be the one to say something first? She was not shy. That was not who she was, she could talk to anyone. She was a trial lawyer, talking was what she did.

But not to Train Guy.

There would be a delay and he would glance up and make eye contact as though to say, “ugh this,” or something strange would happen or the crossword guy who sat at the other end of the car would yell out a request for a “five letter word ending in u,” and Train Guy would give her this little smile like they were in on the same joke and she’d think about him all day.

She finally cracked around the time the weather started getting cold in October. He had a coat, it was just one of those gray wool coats that a thousand people had but he made it look good. That morning crossword guy called out a request for “knight, seven letters,” and Train Guy gave her one of those half amused, half annoyed smiles and she cracked.

She dug a post it note out of her purse and put her name and number on it. She fiddled with it until the tinny speaker system announced that her stop was the next one.

She stood. He sat across from her, closer to the window while she’d taken the aisle seat. She caught him glance up at her and leaned down to stick the post-it to the screen of his phone without breaking eye contact.

Goddamn it, she was close enough to know that he smelled good.

“If you ever want to tell me the thoughts that go with that smile, give me a call,” she said then wheeled and headed for the stairs as the train pulled into the station.

2

C&NW - Lake Street by d.w.davidson on Flickr.

Chicago Passenger Terminal (Chicago & North Western Terminal) in 1983

Built 1911 and demolished 1984 (replaced by Ogilvie Transportation Center)

Photos by D.W. Davidson

Made with Flickr
strangers. | (M)

Don’t talk to strangers. You might fall in love.

Words: 5K

Genre: CEO!Jimin, Dom!Jimin, Smut, Fluff, Hints BDSM.

A/N: Surprise~! Happy Birthday Jiminnie (and happy belated birthday to @jiminniemouse! I hope you like your extremely late birthday present!)  I know this is a day late but this is my first smut ever and I spent a large amount of time cleansing my soul while writing this. I would like to thank @amazon-bookworm all the hours she spent drilling the do’s and dont’s of smut I literally wouldn’t have been able to write this without you!. I would also like to thank @creamsicklesz for editing this and surviving my horrible sentence structure and grammatical errors. Thank you also to @ihearteyesmilesss, @jungee, @we-go-hard-in-the-coffeehouse, @ktaehyngs, and of course the lovely birthday girl @dailydoseofdia for motivating my to write this! Please have mercy on my smut writing abilities this is my first time (/).(\) 

Reminder: all the writing from @chokemejimin is being moved to @the95liner

Okay no more delays, enjoy! 

The first day I saw him, I was running late. As I ran through the train doors just as they were about to close, he was perched comfortable against the opposite closed door. I leaned against the walls of the train compartment, my breathing embarrassingly heavy. His eyes briefly left the book in his hand and flashed towards me, the disruptor of a perfectly silent train during his early morning commute. His gaze lingered on my face for few seconds, making my cheeks heat up, before he turned back to his book.

As I steadied my breathing, I took the chance to gaze at the man. Needless to stay, he was handsome. No, not handsome, beautiful. A dark grey suit hugged his frame paired with a simple black shirt and a silky black tie. His grey hair combed away from his face with just a few strands falling on his forehead. His eyes were downcasted, trailing on his book. 

His tongue darted out habitually licking his lips; he sensually pulled his lower lip in between his teeth. Suddenly, his gaze flashed towards me, the darkness his of irises boring into me. His appearance might be that of an angel, but his gaze was purely sin.

I calmly looked away from him and gazed out the window. Maybe if I hadn’t looked away, I would’ve noticed the beautiful smile his lips had curved into. Maybe if I hadn’t looked away I would’ve noticed his silent glances. Maybe if I hadn’t looked away I would’ve noticed that he hadn’t turned a single page in his novel since I had gotten on the train.

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