i seriously thought about this picture for a good hour and it still brings joy to the world

Pick Me! | Chapter 2

Chapter 1


My mind slow and groggy with sleep gradually turned into the pounding ache of a wine hangover. I gripped the side of the attached upholstered sofa cushion as my stomach lurched and churned with a sudden sickening feeling as consciousness slowly came back to me. I was laying half on, half off the living room sofa still in my disgusting scrubs and an empty bottle of wine wedged between my back and the cushions.

My phone dinged at the same time my iPad lit up with notifications.

“What?” I questioned aloud my eyes going cross with the brightness of the screen before the sinking dread filled me with ice and sudden flashing memory of the night before. “Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!”

I didn’t look at the numerous notification bubbles until I opened the home screen, where an obnoxious red oval told me I had 103 messages.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ,” I whispered again in astonishment. “Why so many?”

With trepidation, I clicked on the message icon and scrolled through to see just how many people made up the 103 messages. My eyes widened in shock, “FIFTY!”

My hand shook as I clicked on the first message…and then nearly launched the iPad across the room to get the offending thing away from me. The fear of breaking the screen was the only rational thought keeping me from tossing it as yet another grotesque message and an even worse image was in the following five! After the tenth message with nothing but disgusting, thoughtless images and slurs inside I responded.


Hello Red & Black Jack,

Fuck Off.
Do the world a favor and hide your tiny gnome dick then go home. 

Hot Shot Lady Doc

I copy and pasted the message and continued to send it to each and every dick pic sent to me, which was an alarming twenty people out of the fifty that sent messages overnight.

Finally, after the multitude of disgusting messages, several vulgar and suggestive message–one of which said “What’s long and hard and full of Seamen?”, there was one person I vaguely remembered sending a message to last night that seemed to have responded.


Hi Hot Shot Lady Doc,

Or may I call you Claire? I am most definitely a real man, I definitely am not one of those people who creep on the internet to prey on women like yourself, and I would love to have coffee with you. I think my time as an army surgeon and your current profession would give us a fantastic base to start on. I’m free any time tomorrow, or this weekend. If you are serious about the meetup please call me at +44 07778 008897.

I look forward to meeting you.

Army Doc, John Grey


My brow furrowed in confusion. “What the fuck did I even say to him?”

I reread his message then anxiously scrolled up to see what prompted his unusual first sentence.

“Oh dear God.” I groaned in horror as ice filled my veins. “Please tell me I didn’t do that.” I closed my eyes but the drunken words were burned into the backs of my eyelids.


Hi Amry Doc!

Are you a real man? OR just one of those crazies who want to kidnap and rape me?

Yuor picture is very cute adn yuor cute and yeah.

We should have coffee!! I love coffee!

I’m sorry I’m a little drunj it’s my bithday!!! Happy lonely Birthday to me!!! My best friend gave me wine and this dating app for agift! She’s nice but I don’t know about it but guess I should give chance. So coffee soon? Please!

Claire


“At least I spelled my name right,” I grumbled and flopped face first onto the leather of the couch. With half of my face still pressed into the couch, I messaged the very kind Army Doc back.


Hi John,

I’m so sorry for my drunk messages last night. Thank you for being kind enough to reply. I don’t know why you did. I know I asked last night, but I’m reaffirming I’d love to get coffee. I’m free this afternoon, it’s my only day off this week from the hospital. Where and when are you available to meet?

Claire


I moved my head back towards the cushion where the stench of the hospital and stale wine mingled with the rich leather. I let out a huff and pushed myself up from the couch, a shower was definitely in order.

The pounding water and fresh steam of the shower helped clear the fog from my head and bring my body back to a semblance of normalcy. In the hour and half, I had spent under the water, two new messages had arrived from the dating site. Still wrapped in a towel, I thumbed through them.


Claire,

Please think nothing of it. If it weren’t for my brother I guarantee I would not have had the nerve to respond to someone like you. I would be honored to meet you in Oxford if that works for you. Would Vaults & Garden off of High Street near All Souls and Radcliffe Square be easy for you to get to around 15:00? I have a noon meeting at All Souls and will be in the area for the full day before driving back to London.

John


My heart picked up a beat and I felt my face flush in excitement as an uncontrollable smile lit up my face.

John,

15:00 at Vaults & Garden would be wonderful. See you there! I’ll be the one in–

I stopped and looked at my wardrobe, debating the possible combinations and hating every single option.

“Get a grip, Beauchamp! It’s only coffee!” I said confidently before blindly reaching for a hanger.

I’ll be the one in green.

Claire

The second message was from one of the original men who I matched with and apparently hadn’t made a fool of myself with.

Hi Hot Shot Lady Doc,

Christ, these dating apps and usernames really make it difficult to take even myself seriously. I’ll start out with my name is Jamie and I’m–

I failed to read the rest of his, what I’m sure was a well thought out message, and snooped on his profile. In the picture, he had on a garish red jumper with giant blue balls knit into it. Did he think this was endearing? I tried to ignore the jumper and focus on his face but found my eyes kept creeping back down to the ridiculous article of clothing.

Seumas Ruadh

Name: James Fraser

Occupation: Wining Fraser - Owner/Distributor

Looking For: Something unseen, yet felt between

Interested In: Women with a kind heart, and sharp mind


“Oh, well now why did you have to go and say something cute Mr. Fraser?” I huffed in mock exasperation scrolling back up to focus on his face. A strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, with a long straight nose let to piercing blue, smiling eyes. Eyes that seemed to smile and be illuminated from behind, made my heart skip a beat and butterflies to flutter in my gut. A tumbling mass of red curls framed his face and the lone stray curl that curved towards his left eye made him even more enticing. I wanted to know this man.

I gazed at his likeness for longer than what would be deemed appropriate, lost in his smile that lit up his entire face, like that moment in time he could not be any happier. “Now I have to go back and read your message, you’re too adorable not to.”

Hi Hot Shot Lady Doc,

Christ, these dating apps and usernames really make it difficult to take even myself seriously. I’ll start out with my name is Jamie and I’m new to this whole online dating experience. I’m 28, no kids, never married. Is that the kind of thing people mention on here?
I don’t know.
I’m the owner of Wining Fraser, a small wine distribution business based out of Edinburgh. I love what the wine business does. Not only do we get to experience a new world with every company and every bottle, we–I–get to bring joy to people. I suppose that’s why I’m using this insane way of finding a date. I’ve lost myself in my work and figured now was as good a time as any to attempt to find that missing something or I suppose, someone.
I do hope you’ll respond back, and I look forward to getting to know you.

Jamie Fraser

I caught myself laughing at his choice and use of words. I feel much the same. Here I sat, 32 barely making enough time to sleep from insane work schedules, failing at anything that required care and attention. I wouldn’t doubt that if I were to buy a houseplant the poor thing would die, not from my lack of a green thumb, but my lack of love to give to it.

After rereading Jamie’s message and began to compose my reply. I caught myself giggling like a schoolgirl, and had to make an effort not to let the butterflies fly away with my words.

Dear Jamie,

Please, just call me Claire.

I understand when you said that work seems to be your entire life. I too am guilty of that very action. My lack of social and romantic life led to my best friend signed me up for this app on my birthday of all days. Sometimes I wonder where time has gone and how at 32, I feel as though I’ve simultaneously been around for much longer and not long enough to know what I’m doing. Have you ever felt as though your life passes you by no matter how hard you try to stop and take a moment to savor it?
At first I was wary of even starting this app, and now I don’t want my life to fly by any more than it has without my say so. I want to savor every moment, and sometimes that means taking a risk, like saying hello to a handsome stranger.

I too, look forward to getting to know you, Jamie.

Claire

The Summer (2/?)

The Summer (2/?) | Dan Howell has spent the last three summers at Camp Bergamot, but it’s never been quite like this before. This year, he faces a summer full of new friends, a new relationship, and an entirely new view on his own sexuality. Perhaps Camp Bergamot should be renamed camp self discovery for all the changes Dan has gone through, but one thing’s for sure - despite all the hiccups and the drama, he just might have found the love of his life. | Phan | Mature | Smut, Misunderstandings, Insecurity, Panic Attacks, Bullying, Minor Violence, Physical Fight | 300,000+ Words

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

This Part: 9,480 Words

For reference, @phansdick is Dan, @insanityplaysfics is Phil.

(Previous) (AO3) (Masterlist)

Warnings: Beginnings of sexualitiy crisis’

A/N: Hey guys, it’s Eliza back with chapter two of The Summer for you all! I just wanted to start out this chapter with a quick second disclaimer regarding Phil and his sexuality. I know the whole thing is going to get quite confusing, and when we originally set up the tags and warnings, Rachel and I labeled him as Demi. However, as I’ve been editing, Phil has melded himself into something entirely different to what I was expecting, and I’ve had to re-write a few scenes to make my vision of him come true. My fear is misrepresentation or anger at the changes I’ve made, so I’d like to disclaim that Phil is going through a similar crisis to something I’ve been through, and doesn’t fall into any one box. His confusion comes from a very real place, and is in no way intended to be disrespectful to people who identify as pan or demi. Thank you for your time, and we really hope that you’re going to love this story as it progresses!

Chapter Two

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Dave: Receive Disciplinary Call From Daycare

“Bro?” Dirk asked, once Dave had high-fived him for the sword. “Are you gonna marry Karkat?”

Dave spat out his coffee.

A thing I wrote based on @thegoshdangdavekatgang’s daycare AU which is literally the best thing that anyone has created ever and you should go check it out immediately.
________

If asked exactly how he came to have a brother twenty years younger than him, Dave Strider couldn’t tell you. He also couldn’t tell you where his dad had fucked off to, or why Dave had been left with the kid. It was just an incredibly tangled skein of thread in the vaster tapestry of paradox space and its unfair bullshit. Nappies and sippy cups and 4 am wake-up calls became a part of Dave’s life, and the inclusion of things like ‘toilet training’ and ‘weird rashes on a two-year-old’ made his internet history just that bit more respectable. Or worse. That depended on your perspective. Babies were supposed to be adorable little bundles of joy, yes, but there were times when Dave wondered if accidentally putting Dirk’s baby formula in his coffee was worth it all.

But Dave wasn’t one to complain, so he buckled down and tried to juggle raising a child and running a burgeoning multimedia anti-establishment empire. He wasn’t famous, not exactly, not yet, so Dirk’s baby pictures remained confined to family albums instead of the paparazzi worldwide; which wasn’t to say there weren’t hurdles. There had been a tricky incident in a Starbucks where someone had run up and asked for Dave’s autograph, then promptly noticed the baby and his fucking awesome shades, cooed over him, realised how similar the two looked and then peppered Dave with questions for a good fifteen minutes. Eventually he came up with a story about adopting a baby for a day, and managed to explain the whole imaginary process with a straight face. It was completely ridiculous and exactly the sort of thing Dave would probably do.

With a brother like that, Dirk was going to grow up to be a pretty cool kid. His smiles needed work, because they happened about once every month and looked like he was about to stab someone, but Dave’s therapist (a long story, but Nepeta was now a pretty trusted confidant) assured him that everything would sort itself out.

When Dirk brought a sword to daycare for show and tell, Dave was tempted to ask for his money back. Personally, he thought it was cool. Dirk obviously thought it was cool. They were apparently the only ones.

Like, Dirk was cool. That was a given. He was Dave’s little bro, and anyone who grew up in that kind of household basically lived off a diet of eyebrow-raising irony and sick beats. (And actual food, because Dave’s childhood meals had pretty much been exactly that and he still hadn’t entirely vanquished the nightmares, or the hoarding problem. And fuck if little Strider Junior was ever going to be anything but loved).

But Dave was apparently failing in his brotherly duties, because Dirk had been told about show and tell and what it entailed and decided that a sword would be just the thing to wow all of his potential bros.

Dave may have panicked when he received the phone call.

“But it’s not like he could have done something terrible,” he rambled, before anyone could explain what exactly Dirk had done, “Like, I’m not a bad guardian, I know where all the nappies are and dude, that’s pretty hard to figure out let me tell you-”

“Mr Strider. I know exactly how hard it is to find nappies. It’s not that fuuuuck…it’s not that hard.” Karkat Vantas, Dirk’s daycare teacher, didn’t appear to be a particularly patient man. Dave had seen him once, thought short, shouty, that red sweater’s the fucking ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, and swept Dirk off into the over-saturated Texas sunset. Then he’d realised that he would totally wear that sweater with a grand total of zero ironic inclinations and contemplated his life choices the entire trip home. The car was almost totalled twice.

“Well then maybe you have some kind of super nappy finding skills because I spent a whole half hour trying to find those little shits, and my sister’s lost entire packets, so what I’m saying is maybe you should cut me some slack on the nappy-finding front.”

“Mr Strider, could we maybe talk about how Dirk decided a sword would be an appropriate item for show and tell?”

“No way, that’s fucking awesome.”

“No it isn’t!” Vantas yelled. Dave thought his eardrum might burst. “It is in no way in any world awesome to bring a sword to a daycare. How is that awesome?”

“Okay look, you have to admit that it’s pretty cool. A sword, dude, he brought a sword. Which one was it?”

“He called it the unbreakable katana.”

“Sweet.”

“Did you tell him to bring the sword? Because I’m beginning to doubt your capabilities as a guardian, Mr Strider.”

“Well okay look,” Dave said quickly. “It’s not like I told him to bring it or anything. He never even mentioned show and tell, I didn’t even know you guys did that sort of shit, like, I’m innocent here and it’s obviously the first offence so I’ll just take him home and explain-”

“Last week he brought a-” Vantas paused. He sounded slightly embarrassed. “A…look, this week he brought a sword and last week it was a smuppet, so could you please just control your son and-”

“Brother.”

“I’m sorry?”

“He’s not my son, he’s my little brother.”

“Oh, um…okay, well, please control your brother-”

“And before you ask, I don’t know where my dad is and if you’re going to judge-”

“Mr Strider, I didn’t ask. And your personal life is literally nowhere near my concern, and you know what? I am incredibly grateful for that, because having you in my work life is terrible enough.”

“Okay dude, seriously? Are we doing PTA shit? Did you just go there, Susan?”

“My name is not Susan.”

“If you don’t like it you can be Helen and I’ll be Susan.”

“You know, I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought that maybe it was Dirk who was just naturally obsessed with irony at four years old. I pictured you as slightly harassed and just incredibly done with your precocious brother. I’m now sorry for pinning all the blame on Dirk, because I’m sure he’d be a bloody great child without your obnoxious influence.”

“Hey, dude, there’s no need to be a dick about it, I’m sorry about the sword. I’ll talk to Dirk about it. It won’t happen again.”

Privately, Dave wanted to add that it wouldn’t happen again because Dirk would not be attending this particular daycare again, but he knew that finding another one would be far more hassle that it was worth. Also Dirk seemed surprisingly attached to this Vantas man, with a careful and inconsiderate amount of sincerity Dave was pretty sure he never showed when he was four. It was fucking annoying, that’s what it was, because Dave would be quite happy if he never saw Karkat Vantas again.

That was unfortunate, because when Dave finally arrived to pick Dirk up he got his first good look at Karkat. All prior assumptions went out of the window. Karkat Vantas was hot. A bit on the short side, maybe, but his dark hair was fluffy and artfully tousled and Dave couldn’t get rid of the urge to run his fingers through it. The red sweater had been swapped out for a polarneck and it was actually almost cute.

Frazzled, Dave grabbed Dirk and ran, dropping only cursory greetings to Karkat and Kanaya before hightailing it out of there.

“Bro?” Dirk asked, once Dave had high-fived him for the sword. “Are you going to marry Karkat?”

Dave spat out his coffee. “Why would I marry Karkat? Dirk, what the hell!”

“Cos Karkat said Kanaya was gonna marry Auntie Rose and you looked at Karkat like you were gonna marry him.”

Dave debated whether explaining how Rose was not actually Dirk’s aunt and instead his big sister would be more or less painful than a potential attraction to Karkat.

He decided that no, their fucked-up family tree was easier, and launched into a description about Rose and Roxy, complete with air diagrams. Dirk listened attentively, punctuating Dave’s train of speech at the most awkward times, with the kind of questions that made Dave wonder just what the fuck went on in Karkat Vantas’s daycare.

But despite himself, Dave found that being civil to Karkat was a lot nicer than being an asshole, and drawing dicks over a whiteboard is only innappropriate if the children see. And if, many weeks later, he found himself accepting Karkat’s grumbled offer of coffee with a wink and a lot of internal squealing; well, that was just serendipity. Some things were meant to happen. Karkat Vantas was apparently one of them.

150720 Baekhyun fan chat [full trans]

- hello this is EXO’s Baekhyun!!!!!!

- it was supposed to start at 7:30pm but because i wanted to talk to you a little longer so i tried my best to start as early as i can!!

- i am really working out very hard!! 

- da jia hao! [’hello’ in chinese]

- hi!

- konnichiwa! [’hello’ in japanese]

- my room is still the living room

- everybody, there is still nutella (tummy) left!

- my roommate..? i am sleeping alone in the living room..

- sawadeekap! >< [hello’ in thai]

- i didn’t take any mongryeongie’s picture…

- i have a secret. i too started liking EXO-L ever since debut ^^ hahahahaahahahaha

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