this is from a book i checked out today and it's super good

EULOGY FOR AMERICA

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to say our goodbyes to our dear friend America, who died recently after a brief, intense battle with fascism and a long, slow battle with carbs. Thank you all for coming out to help say farewell. It’s not easy. But at least America died doing what it loved most: deep-frying Halloween candy while white men tried to explain to women what jazz is.

America was sick for a really long time. In the early stages, I think we were all in denial. You could tell that America was unwell—public displays of brutality, deeply internalized prejudice, “Entourage”—but it seemed curable. Just a case of plain old electile dysfunction. We thought that we’d caught the fascism early, but, as we now know, it had metastasized. America was more Florida than country by the end.

America was born right here, in America, and lived here its entire life. America was always about family. It is survived by its similarly ill father, Britain, and its large brood of children: baseball, Google, fireworks, losing your fingers to fireworks, giving your Uber driver only four stars because he talked to you, thinking granola is healthy, Chicago (the place), “Chicago” (the musical), “Chicago” (the movie adaptation of the musical), Chicago (the band), “Chicago Fire,” “Chicago Med,” “Chicago P.D.,” “Chicago Justice,” “Chicago ‘Chicago’ ” (a show about the Chicago production of the musical “Chicago,” coming to NBC this fall), and a bunch of wars.

I’d personally be nowhere without America. America was there when I was born, when I got married, when I saw Janet Jackson’s nipple at the Super Bowl. Remember that? After that happened, none of us slept for days, because we had never seen the pointy part of a boob on our TVs before, and it really upset us. America was really cool that way. It would always get mad when you’d see the pointy part of a boob on a TV. I’m gonna miss that.

However, we should not dwell on the loss of our dear country, friend, and place where all the Cheesecake Factories and Lids stores are. Today, let’s celebrate America’s life, and remember all of the remarkable things it accomplished and how many actors playing Spider-Man who keep getting cuter and younger were inside of it. America gave us so much. And, boy, did it look good for its age. America was two hundred and forty-one years old when it died, but it didn’t look a day over a hundred and sixty-four! It looked so young, it could’ve been the very same America that put its own citizens in internment camps!

America got a bunch of things really right. Mostly how to put food inside other food. Anyone can just eat a chicken. But in a duck?! In a turkey?! In a gun?! No one is going to forget the Turduckenun any time soon. America was so inventive that way. And, I mean, everyone does silly stuff when they’re young. America was beautiful, too. Sure, it was a little lumpy, and you could always see its Florida through its pants, but it just got hotter with age. So hot. It was so, so hot by the time it died. Almost too hot to live in.

If there’s anything we should take away from this tragedy, it’s that you should always check yourself for fascism, especially around your midsection. It’s easy enough to do in the shower. If you catch it early, it can be cleared up with a rigorous regimen of local elections and books and yoga. But America was cocky. Nothing bad had ever happened to it before! It assumed this fascism would pass, just like the Second World War and “Entourage” had.

What a shame. America was just the best damn country in the whole U.S.A. I’m sorry that I’m getting choked up. I get really emotional when I think of America, and also I took too big of a bite of Turduckenun and it got lodged in my windpipe. We will all miss America greatly. Every time I see an American flag or a gun, I’ll think of America. But we can all rest easy knowing America is in a better place now: Russia.

Model Behavior

Summary: Jack is getting ready to do a photo shoot for Alicia’s friend.  Bitty comes along to keep him company, when Bitty suddenly becomes the model. Jack’s reaction to the photo is… interesting.  A quick little ficlet which takes place during Jack’s senior year.  Also on AO3


Jack hated photo shoots. Absolutely hated them, but Alicia had a favor called in and he found himself in a position of not being able to say no. And so, begrudgingly, Jack Zimmermann was on his way to Boston for a one-day shoot.

“Like an actual shoot shoot?” Bitty asked wide-eyed as he told him about it over some ginger peach pie the evening before.

“Yeah. It’s for some clothing line. They’re going to dress me up like a puppet and then I have to stand there, and smile like an idiot.”

“I dunno, it sounds so fun to me. I’d love to model!” Bitty said then sighed, “Alas, I am vertically challenged.”

“Euh… do you want to come with me?” Jack asked pushing his pie around the plate with his fork.

“Really? And like watch?!” Bitty practically bounced off his seat.

“I guess so, Bittle. Don’t make me take it back.”

“No! I’ll behave. I promise! It’s going to be so much fun.”

+++

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anonymous asked:

hihihi i love ur neighbor au SO MUCH the shownu had me dyiNG it's so accurate, and the spicy changkyun one BOI i died anyways can i possibly ask for the last of the series, a cute hyungwon one?? Thank u and bless u :')

the other members can be found here:
wonho / shownu / kihyun / minhyuk /changkyun / jooheon 

  • owns a one room apartment because it’s cheap and he doesn’t really need a kitchen,,,,when kihyun was helping him look at apartments hyungwon was just like “i need there to be room for a king sized bed.” and kihyun was like “oh but this place even has an extra closet it just costs a bit mo-” “kihyun,,,,,,,all i need is a place to sleep.”
  • has a full length mirror in the hallway and openly admits that he checks himself out in it. doesn’t openly admit that he’ll sometimes dance in front of it when he’s getting ready too 
  • his brother begged him to not put up the photo of him when he first enlisted in the army but hyungwon,,,,being the person he is,,,,hung that photo right up next to his nightstand 
  • but it’s cute,,,he hung up photos of his family alongside it because no matter what he misses them a lot
  • has a copy of every magazine he was a model in and keeps them in a stack on his bookshelf alongside a bunch of books on fashion and traveling,,,,,
  • every time his friends come over they pull out a magazine and tease hyungwon over his modeling but hyungwon’s like yall just mad because you’re not this beautiful 
  • his coffeemaker is the most expensive thing in his apartment 
  • has a mug that says ‘until this mug is empty, im not technically awake’,,,,it was a gift from minhyuk 
  • fashionable hyungwon only exists in the streets. when he’s at home it’s big old t-shirt, froggy pajama pants, and froggy slippers,,,,,,,,i like to think he also owns a froggy pillow just because hyungwon + frogs is a meme or whatever but it’s also super cute,,,,,,,
  • wears glasses around the building and people don’t recognize who he is until he takes them off and they’re like OH it’s the model from floor eleven!!! and hyungwon is like slinking his way back to the elevator with very un-model like posture LOL
  • you’ve known ever since he moved in because when he was trying to get all his boxes up to his apartment 
  • he was going at the most painstakingly slow speed,,,like literally one box at a time,,,,,and you felt bad watching this dude with his noodle arms try to move all by himself
  • so you offered to help and hyungwon had tried to say it was ok but then you’d lifted like three boxes and he was like you know what please do help me lol
  • and after you two were done you pointed at your door across the hall and you were like “im your neighbor, neighbors should help each other!! since i helped you today,,,,”
  • and you had looked him and down and hyugwon had tilted his head in confusion and you were like 
  • “since i helped you today, promise me if i ever need your help idk,,,,since you’re so tall,,,,,fixing a lightbulb or something,,,you’ll help me? deal?”
  • and you’d stuck your hand out and hyungwon,,,,although usually unwilling to sign himself up to doing something aside from taking a nap,,,,had shook your hand back 
  • and since then you’ve just you know,,,, been good neighbors to each other 
  • you always see each other in the evening when you’re coming back from work and hyungwon will already have his glasses on and his hair a mess and you always giggle because he seems like the opposite of a model and he’ll just shrug because doesn’t he actually look better this way?
  • and it’s just very casual and friendly and you say goodbye to each other as you go into your apartments
  • but one night hyungwon notices that you’re not there when he’s waiting for the elevator but he shrugs it off because??? maybe you have overtime or you’re out with friends
  • but when he’s home, already laying down reading his favorite webtoon e looks at the time and it’s like,,,,close to midnight
  • and just to make sure you’re ok,,,he gets up and goes to knock on your door
  • deciding that he’d rather just make up some excuse how he ran out of toilet paper and isn’t just you know,,,,worried
  • but then??? you don’t answer
  • and hyungwon tells himself that he’s not worried and he’s not panicking over you,,,his neighbor,,,,,,who he obviOUSLY hasn’t been fond of since you helped him out,,,,,like haha what no,,,,
  • and that’s totally not the reason he goes outside of the building in his slippers at like 1am just to see if you’re coming home really late,,,,like noooo he’s going to the corner store to get himself a really super late night snack
  • and as he’s coming out of the store, untouched ice-cream in hand he sees you
  • and you’re just walking really slowly, yawning against your palm because your boss made you stay to finish up documents that aren’t even a part of your job and you just,,,, really want some sleep
  • and when you look over you see hyungwon,,,,in his froggy slippers with ice-cream and you’re like “hey,,,,why are you up this late?” and hyungwon just snorts because he’s like i could ask you the same thing
  • and you stick your tongue out but you’re like my devil of a boss made me do work that’s not even mine can you bELIEVE IT
  • and hyungwon is still holding that ice-cream,,,,his heartbeat finally settling down at the sight of your face 
  • and you notice how he’s quietly just staring at you and you look down at his hand and you’re like “the ice-creams gonna melt???” and he’s like i don’t really care 
  • and you’re like cool can i have it???? and you grab it and unwrap it and hyungwon can’t help but smile to himself and you’re like eating, the glum look on your face gone
  • and you and hyungwon get into the elevator and you’re like “so seriously, why are you up right now? you told me once you could sleep for like 29 hours!!!” and hyungwon is like i wanted a late night snack and you’re like dude,,,,,im eating your late night snack c’mon tell me the real reason
  • and hyungwon adjusts his glasses with his hand and looks away and you’re like ???????? and he’s like “sorry,,,i was worried,,,i guess,,,”
  • and you almost choke on your icecream because wait,,,,
  • worried??????
  • about?????????? you????
  • hyungwon who could sleep through a thunderstorm, who forgot your first name for the first three months you knew each other, who as never told you he’s been worried about /anything/,,,,,,,,
  • hyungwon was worried about you?
  • and you get to your floor and you’re both silent but you’re like,,,,,well!!!don’t worry because im fine,,,,,,im gonna go sleep though~~ ok bye!!
  • and hyungwon sees you disappear inside without another word and he doesn’t really know what to think of it so he goes inside too
  • but you’re,,,,,,,standing in your hallway,,,,cheeks pink and you’re like wait,,,,does he,,,,,does he like me,,,,,,,,did he just not want to admit it,,,??
  • and in the morning you and hyungwon bump into each other and hyungwon is obviously acting awkward and you’re like “give me your phone” and he’s like huh
  • and you’re like “you said you were worried about me right, well here’s my number. just text me the next time you’re worried. plus,,,,,,,,i can text you if i ever get worried.”
  • and hyungwon’s looking at you in shock and you’re like ,,,,, getting a bit red and you’re like,,,,,,,heY we made a promise before about helping each other we can make the same promise about worrying too,,,,,that or you know,,,,,
  • and the door opens to the lobby but hyungwon doesn’t get out and neither do you and he’s like “,,,you know,,,what?” and you’re like,,,,,,you know,,,,,,how couples just worry about each other without a promise because you like the person so you worry oh god im rambling
  • and before you know it hyungwon leans in and presses his lips to yours and you’re like !!!!!!!! i guess,,,he agrees on the couple thing!!!!!!!!
  • but the doors close before either of you can get out and the elevator is going back up and you pull back and you’re like hYUNGWON im goinG TO be LATE for the bUS now,,,
  • and he shrugs and pulls you around the waist closer to him and he’s like more time for us to kiss-
  • and you’re like no no no you don’t get to kiss me since you made me late ):< 
  • hyungwon: :’( ok ill kiss you after we both comeback from work 
12. Harry Turns 23

a little happy birthday to the wonderful man that is Harry Styles. This is part 1. Part 2 should be out this weekend if all goes to plan, also be warned that there is some sexy stuff in this so if youre not comfortable reading it feel free to skip over it.

T x

EDIT: Part two is out. Its called ‘Cant Sleep’. There is also going to be a Part 3, although i cant tell you when thats going to be coming out”

It was early afternoon when you got the call from Gemma. You had been folding laundry and putting it away on a lazy Sunday. The flat had been empty with the exception of you for the entirety of the weekend as your flatmate, Nora, who you had known since starting at the same school aged 13, had been at home with her parents for the weekend, and Harry had been away in Los Angeles for the last week, and was returning tomorrow night.

Your phone rang the familiar ring tone and you stopped folding to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, (Y/N)! All good with you?” You heard an excitable voice through the line.

“Oh, yeah, yeah all good here! What about with you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. Listen, Mum, Robin and I are planning on a long weekend away in the Maldives, with Harry for his birthday. We’ve booked this gorgeous villa, on a private beach” You nodded to yourself as you listened to Gemma talk. “It’s going to be so good. Anyway, Mum was wondering, and I think we all know that Harry would love it too, if you wanted to come?”

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“One night a guy tried to punch Jimmy because his girl had dumped him for Jim. The guy was squaring up to him, and Jimmy just stood there, all innocent, saying, "Look, I didn’t mean to steal your girl. Look, here she is. If she wants to go out with you, that’s fine. But if she decides she wants to stay with me, what can I do about it?” And this guy tried to land a right punch, but Jimmy just side-stepped to the left, kept his right foot where it was and tripped the guy up. Then Jimmy helped him up with, “Golly, are you all right? Didn’t hurt yourself, did ya?” And he seemed like he hadn’t done a thing, and everyone felt it was the other guy who deserved what he got. And Jimmy got the girl. It was an art the way Jimmy got his girls.“
–Jose Ferrer, a schoolfriend of Jimmy Stewart, on how he got the girls

zodiacsgraveyard  asked:

Hey DD, in a turn of absolutely terrible luck, I misplaced my passport in Dublin and will be spending a day to a week searching for it/waiting for a replacement. Would you happen to know any great places that you'd recommend I visit while I'm trying to stave off my inevitable panic and horror at my own bad luck? xx

Oh jeez. What a turn of events! Commiseration offered.

Here are some things you might do.

In the city:

Take a morning or afternoon to run around the National Museum branch at Collins Barracks. Plenty of interesting stuff over there. Also: don’t forget the old “main branch” of the Museum in center city on Kildare Street. That’s where the Celtic gold items are. Lean against the cases and droooool like the rest of us.

Go to Trinity College Library and see the Book of Kells. (Also mock George Lucas for stealing its design for the Jedi Library without crediting the original. Naughty George.)

Go visit St. Stephen’s Green and say hi to the ducks. Lunchtime is good for this. Grab a bag lunch from one of the sandwich places down toward the park end of Grafton Street.

Check out Christ Church Cathedral, which is extremely handsome. Visit the tomb of Dean Swift, writer’s writer and satirist of satirists, finally all comfy someplace where (as the tombstone says) “savage indignation can no longer lacerate his heart.” Be there for the choir if you can.

Do a river or harbor or canal tour! Or maybe you’re feeling goofy enough to take one of the Viking Splash Tours. They have vehicles that go in and out of the water, and they take you around the main sights in town, and you get to wear a horned helmet and wave a plastic sword or axe and yell ARRR at people. This strikes me as highly therapeutic. :)

Outside the city:

Get out of town on the DART – take it down to Bray and walk the seafront. Or go up north to Howth or Skerries and soak up the small-fishing-village vibe.

Or: Grab the Luas down to Dundrum and wander around the big shopping centre there – some nice stuff there for windowshopping and some good places to sit for lunch. (If using the Luas, make sure to buy a Leap Card from one of the machines – you’ll save significantly on fares.)

Or: If you feel like going so far north and have the cash for the train, catch the Enterprise up to Belfast (they’ve just refurbished the rolling stock, finally) and check the place out. If you go up there, right across from Great Victoria St. Station is that queen among pubs and National Trust site, the Crown Liquor Saloon. Go see the tile and the mirrors and the mosaics and the rest of the art. They pull a fair pint, too, though some will feel it’s overpriced. – There’s also the new Titanic Quarter, which is worth looking into.

Now having said all that: I am genuinely slow on the uptake today, because the very first thing I should have thought to say to you is: If you’re stuck in Dublin for the next week, you are about to be stuck in the middle of the St Patrick’s Festival. This is, well, a mixed blessing. There will be a million cool things going on. There will also be a LOT of people in town. A LOT. If you have trouble with crowds, you may want to be aware that last year there were something like half a million visitors in for the Parade. Everything gets insanely crowded, and in some places prices will get jacked up, sometimes ridiculously. Keep your eyes open.

Finally: Food in town, and pubs: Gotham Cafe is great (say hi to David and/or Jackie for us): best NY thin crust pizza in the city, and much more. Food’s good up at Porterhouse Central at the top of Grafton Street. Half the time when Peter and I are up in town, we’ll wind up in one of those two places. Also enjoyable: (I’m not going to link to these – Google them, you’ll find them): Monty’s of Kathmandu (in Temple Bar): Yamamori and Yamamori Noodles: The Counter (fabulous modular/build-it-yourself burgers): Pichet (French, super): Chez Max at Dublin Castle (Palace Street: best steak frites in town): The Port House (tapas and sherries etc): Brasserie Sixty6 (bistro stuff): The Exchequer (gastropub and cocktail joint par excellence): Thai Spice (down Talbot Street behind Busaras). Favored pubs: The Oval Bar (off O’Connell Street north of the river): The Brazen Head (oldest in the city – a pub has operated on that site since the 1100s or thereabouts): The Long Hall (”the wizards drink there”): Neary’s, off Grafton Street (note bronze arms sticking out of the wall like something from La Belle et la Bete): Davy Byrnes (aka “The Moral Pub” in James Joyce)(good oysters there, too): McDaid’s (aka “The Morgue”: apparently it was, once) near the Westbury Hotel: Bruxelles, ditto: The Bailey in Duke Street: and a bit new, Mary’s Bar (& Hardware) across from Brown Thomas in Wicklow Street.

…Anyway: enjoy!

(Translation) Koibito vs. Nijigen vol. 1

恋人 vs. 二次元 第1巻「オタク彼女の場合」(R18!! Please proceed only if you’re above 18!)

CV. Murata Taishi


T/N: commissioned! one of my favorite CDs EVER, i love this cd ASDASDHDAF!! i swear every 5 seconds i end up laughing like a damn seal!! lmao like. every damn line is a grim nostalgic reminder of hisayuki and i. can’t. fucking. take it.

actually, you can see how much i enjoy translating this cd because. y’know. you can just see it. sorry. i’m guilty.

honestly when i heard of this cd i was 101% HYPE but ngl also hiding 0.2% of uncertainty because face it, it could be either comedy or, yan. i mean yeah, the cover doesn’t seem yan but i’m sure those who have been a loyal customer of the otome cd industry like ri and chi yes this is a callout post for both of u :♥ would advise, don’t judge a cd by its cover or synopsis… unless it’s kuroi yume

ok for reals before i make things worse, let’s jump ahead to the cd and enjoy this totally embarrassing piece of adorable cupcake made of 100% organic cutes and pures. srsly he’s so good @ milky chain pls make a sequel for this series…pls… i will sacrifice my firstborn and my left asscheek pls pls pls


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Fighting for free pancakes at IHOP.

As someone who worked in customer service (mostly retail) for the better part of a decade, I am overly nice in every situation where I have a problem that needs a manager.  Y'all.  I had a FIFTEEN MINUTE DISCUSSION about free pancakes at IHOP because literally every person I talked to was dumb.  I’m gonna try to relay this to y'all as best I can so you can understand how simple the issue was.  This isn’t my receipt because I don’t have it but this is a pretty good example of a receipt from IHOP that has a customer survey coupon on it.

I don’t know if it’s at every location, but the IHOP by me gives you a receipt that has a survey on it with every visit.  You go home and take the survey, write down the code in the blank space (the fourth item near the bottom) and use that as your coupon for free pancakes at your next visit.  Not same visit, but the next visit.  I use one 90% of the time I go to IHOP and I go to IHOP more frequently that I’m finna admit to all out in public like this.

Study the receipt though, because it’s gonna be important to the story.

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[ bookshelf ]

pairing; seventeen wonwoo x reader

genre; fluff, reader wonwoo

synopsis; standing at a not-so-tall height, it was never easy for you to reach the books on the the highest shelf. unlike what happens in most dramas and fantasies, you didn’t receive help from any charming, cute guy — you nearly killed one instead. with a falling book.

word count; 939 words


I clutched my books close to my chest, as if they were invaluable diamonds that one would try to snatch away from me. I briskly made my way to the campus library, dropping off the three books I had borrowed a few weeks back. Pushing the glass door to the library open, I stepped in, immediately feeling warmed by the heaters placed by the walls of the library.

I glanced around, briefly scanning the area. I was glad it wasn’t overly crowded today. The library was rarely crowded, actually. Not many people appreciate books as much as I actually do. Everyone somehow stereotypes the fact that people who read a lot are nerds. 

That’s not true in any way. I loved reading, but hated studying. 

I walked over to my usual shelf which was labelled ‘Fantasy and Romance’. My favourite genres. The writers who write on this genre are always so descriptive in their writing, it makes me get so lost in the book, I actually experience its series of events with my five senses. 

That makes me beyond happy and relaxed because it’s like living in a dream. I mean, what’s the possibility of one being able to live in a far away mansion, with the love of her life being a perfect man who loves her unconditionally? What’s the possibility of one being able to live with super powers like telekinesis? Zero. At least for me.

I brushed my fingers through the books on the middle shelf, my eyes briefly reading the titles of the books on their sides. None captured my attention, so I looked up at the shelf above that. Nothing too.

My eyes flew across the titles of the books on the uppermost shelf, and the one named ‘Heavenly Fire’ caught my eyes. It was a fairly thick book, one of the books from the Mortal Instruments series. I’d finished the first few books of the series, but never got to the end of the series.

I extended my hand, and my fingers barely brushed past the bottom tip of the book. I rolled my eyes. Not again. 

I went on my highest tiptoe, and felt the balls of my feet hurt. I attempted to grab at least the corner of the book to pull it out, but the other books right by its side prevented me from getting a good grip.

I sighed, sneakily looking around, then resorted to jumping. I really wanted to get that book down.

I jumped once, and my hand slipped from the corners. I jumped again, and the book still didn’t budge although I was sure I had tugged it a little.

The third time I jumped, I somehow accidentally pushed the book further into the shelf. It wasn’t just further in. It pushed the other book on the other side of the shelf, and I heard tumbling and a “Woah, woah!”

I widened my eyes, cursing my clumsiness under my breath and I quickly ran out from behind the shelf, going to the other side where a couple of books had fallen, along with the one pushed. 

A boy was right in front of the shelf, exactly symmetrical to the previous position I was at. He was holding a book in one hand, and rubbing his head with another, distancing himself from the shelf.

I gasped, hesitantly walking over to him. He was still looking down, so he hadn’t seen me yet.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I said, my hands placed awkwardly together in front of my mouth. He looked up at me then, and I recognised him. I didn’t know him personally, but I saw him often around the library. We never talked. We were as good as strangers.

“The book on the other side fell— I mean, I was trying to get a book from up there on the other side and I hit it and it just, kaboom—” I blurted, not knowing what to do. “I’m so sorry.”

He smiled a little, chuckling so quietly I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t see his shoulders lift a little. “It’s alright.”

He bent down, picking the fallen books up. I bent down too, quickly collecting the books and piling them in my hands. There were a total of four of them, and he had five in his hands. He put the books back onto the upper shelf, and I tried. But once again, my shortness wouldn’t let me.

He chuckled again, much louder and audible this time, before taking the books from my hands and putting them up with ease. My height was just a bit over his shoulder, so he was definitely much taller than me.

He held onto the book ‘Heavenly Fire’, somehow knowing that that was the book I was trying to get. He passed it to me, and I took it gratefully.

“Thank you so much, um…” I paused, frowning. I didn’t know his name.

“Wonwoo,” he told me, the soft, subtle smile lingering on his lips. “Jeon Wonwoo.” He stuck out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Wonwoo,” I said, shaking his hand. “I’m Y/N. Sorry we had to meet this way…”

He shook his head. “It’s alright. Makes everything more fun, doesn’t it?”

I smiled at his optimism and friendliness. “I guess. I nearly killed you, though.”

He laughed. “I can’t be killed by books.”

“Right.” I nodded, laughing.

He checked his watch, and bit his lips. “I’m gonna be late for class. Whoops.”

“Oh, right. Go ahead,” I said, moving aside to allow him to leave. 

“I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he said, giving me a casual wink before jogging out of the library. 

I squealed as quietly as I could. Wonwoo was so horribly cute and kind — just like fantasies in books. Except this time, it was real.


✧ a/n:

progressing on seventeen scenarios to fill up their masterlist !! :) also, i still have unanswered asks in my inbox, i’m so sorry for the long wait! :( i’ll get to them real soon, hopefully by this weekend! && happy birthday to mingyu 💗 i wrote a dedi to him on my ig already soo :-) i have two tests tomorrow and i ditched revision for this HAHA i’m going to do midnight studying now. have a good night / day everyone! xx

☼ remember to leave a request or ask if you have any!

☼ here’s my masterlist if you’d like to see more of my content!

Dina’s Fun Aunt Holiday Bonus Part 3 – Ellen Thwoorp

Summary – There’s nothing like a day out when you’re on holiday, whether it’s to the Dinosaur museum or the local market, things are learned, jokes are made and the subject marriage is brought up a little more than Katya may have initially appreciated.

A/N: So this is back. Sorry it’s been a long time but since the last update I’ve fallen in and out of an unrequited love, electric shuffled in and out of the closet, become a bio queen and designed one of the most complicated final major projects my tutors have ever seen so… Hi again. Woop woop.

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The Magnus Effect

Alec felt a little nervous. It was his first time flying on a plane. His whole childhood he’d never flown anywhere. He’d grown up in the Bronx, and his parents weren’t rich enough for expensive flights to foreign places.

Alec had worked the whole summer and throughout his first semester of college to save enough money to visit his best friend, Jace, during Spring Break. Jace had gone off to study at Caltech, a university at the other side of the country after graduation, while Alec stayed in New York. He studied literature at Columbia. He was a baseball player and he’d gotten into the Ivy League university on a sports scholarship. Measuring in at six feet, his long legs and cat-like swiftness were further augmented by his skills as a pitcher. Spinning the ball, causing it to curve into any direction he’d want it to.

It’s called the Magnus Effect. The Magnus Effect causes a spinning ball to curve away from its principal flight path. Alec had perfected his pitches, using this technique, making it almost impossible for the batter to hit any ball he pitched. He’d gotten the scholarship because of it.

His sport of preference was archery, though. But there was no scholarship for that. Jace and he had done archery together. He outshone Jace on it. It was practically the only thing he was better at than Jace . Jace was smarter, faster, better at getting girls, and beautiful besides.

Alec didn’t care about the getting girls part. He’d known for a long time now that girls didn’t interest him. He was sixteen when he realized it was Jace who got his heart beating faster every time he entered the room. To have a crush on your best friend who’s straight. That was a tough break. On top of it, no one knew he was gay, except for his sister Isabelle. He was raised a good Catholic and in the Bronx being gay wasn’t accepted. Not even in 2017. At least not around the block where his parents lived.

He’d lived in the dorms now, and Columbia was different than the Bronx. But still, a gay baseball player, it didn’t earn him any points. He knew that. So he lived a closeted life. It was okay, really. He’d only ever felt attracted to Jace, and, with him living at the other side of the country, it was easier for Alec somehow.

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jeon jungkook as your boyfriend

a/n- the time has finally come for kookie as your adorable boyfriend. i am so sorry this took so long but… also i got a bit carried away i love boyfriend!jungkook

Yoongi / Taehyung / HoseokJimin

Seventeen / Got7

__

- okay so he says he’s not the type to cuddle in bed but when you wake up, your face is shoved against his chest and his arms are holding you tightly and he’s snoring in your ear and you’re like ‘yeah no cuddling my ass' 

- he has a hard time waking up a lot of the time so you have to lure him out being like ‘ahem yeah i’m shirtless’ and then he’s WIDE AWAKE and also kinda sad you’re wearing a shirt

- you are in charge of his outfit a lot of the time because if not he’d literally be wearing the same thing every day (aka his white shirt, jeans, and timberlands) so you find him cute outfits and in return he picks out your outfit sometimes which uh…is usually a white shirt and jeans, sorry bro

- when he gets his license he is very adamant about driving you to work. like he thinks he’s hot shit now that he can drive so you he drives you up to your work building and makes an effort to open your door and be like 'i drove you today you’re welcome loser’ and you’re like 'shut up’ ((he picks you up from work when he can too with just as much sass))

- dates are super fun even if half of them involve physical exercise. like jungkook’s the type to like to go chill and watch a new action movie in the theaters, but his fave thing to do is like go play laser tag or rock climbing or roller skating like he likes to m o v e and you love it but he is usually a lot better at it so you always give him -.- that look 

- one time you two went on a hike up some mountain and it was like a ten mile hike all in all and by the seventh mile of going uphill you were almost passed out and like jungkook was so scared because you did look paler than usual but you were just like 'hand me some water u stupid head’ and he was such a worried little bunny like he even offered to carry you all the way down and you were like ‘no i’m not dying i just need a rest’. he eventually was convinced you were going to live and was like 'okay no more hiking but uhm i did reserved us for paintballing next saturday, you down?' 

- but don’t get me wrong he’s completely fine with sitting at home watching anime and eating pizza and chicken wings in a tshirt and sweats and making out on the couch 

- meeting him outside the bighit building with the car and driving him to the nearest like sonic and ordering slushies that turn your mouth blue while talking about anything and everything ('kookie do you think aliens exist’ 'uhm yeah i think so i mean the universe is really fucking big’ 'don’t curse like that omg you’re still a child’ 'shut up i am a man’)

- when he goes to work out you tag along and sometimes try to use the equipment but when you “don’t get it”, a sweaty jungkook will come and try to guide your body the right way and you really don’t want to tell him you understand how to use the stair climber you just really want to feel his biceps/abs against your body as he sets you in the right direction

- he tries to be all tough and macho all the time and act like he’s not affected by anything but as soon as your lips touch his his whole face lights up pink and he freezes 

- but when he finally comes to his senses he is a really good kisser and i mean reallyyyy good like they don’t call him the golden maknae for nothing. he knows exactly how to guide your lips and all the lip balm he puts on definitely does its job because omg???? his lips are /so/ soft and nice like boy give me some of that chapstick

- he is actually more affectionate than you thought he would be. like in public he always is putting his head on your shoulder or slipping his hand into your back jean pocket just to be playful and you’re like ’S T O P  it we are in public!!’ but he legit doesn’t care because you’re his and he wants everybody- everybody- to know it

- so yeah i bet you guessed that precious kookie is also pretty protective and a bit possessive even. he’s like souped up on testosterone all the time and when he sees another guy checking you out, he’s almost too eager to tell the dude to back off. but you better watch out if a guy is actually harassing you because oh boy be careful he might throw hands. 

- on the other end of being protective, he would suck at making you feel better when you’re sick or something like he’d wouldn’t know what to do. i mean he’d try to cuddle you or something and give you extra blankets but tbh he’d probably need help from his hyungs (poor baby)

- he is the biggest show off you know omg!!! like he is always willing to legit battle you or somebody to prove he’s better. (especially in dancing or singing) he really likes to beat people in front of you so you’ll think he’s cooler but tbh you’re just like 'i s2g this boy’ all the time. 

- speaking of singing ^ he likes to sing for you a lot. like along with jingles on commercials he hears on the radio or to the ballads that play on sad parts in movies or just mimicking your ringtone he is /always/ singing. but you actually don’t mind because he is a super good singer

- when it’s raining you like to lay your head on his lap and have him sing to you and the sound of his beautiful voice mixed with the rain while he plays with your hair is really super nice

- his family thinks you are the BEST ever because you take care of him so well and also made him think of having more a future than strictly being a musician (which is fine but like they want him to also experience being in love and possibly having a family of his own) and they give you so many hugs when you visit

- jungkook’s childhood home is so cute because he hasn’t been around his room since he was really little so it has a lot of kiddie toys and books and like a power rangers bedspread or something (he also has some iron man figurines oops) 

- you two sit on his roof outside his window and look up at the stars and he shares with you about how he never thought he would make it and now here he is back where the dream all started and when he starts to cry you do too and it’s a really nice moment

- the first time you and jungkook say 'i love you’ is at the same time like it’s adorable. okay so you two were having  a date at one of your favorite restaurants that you both go to all the time and as the waiter brings out the appetizers you notice his face is all red and then you think that yours probably is too and then you two lock eyes and just blurt out 'i love you’ and then you cant stop laughing because you two both just confessed your love at the same time over top of some delicious looking nachos

- all in all a relationship with this cutie would be extremely playful and fun but also just as caring and gentle because wow you two nerds are in love

Love sonnets

Characters: Jin & You

Genre: romance, slice of life, slight angst, friends to lovers

Words: 4630

Summary: You and Jin have been best friends for years but only when he’s on the verge of losing you, he realizes that you might have been in love all along.

I got quite rusty writing third pov, so this is my attempt to get back to it. I hope it’s not confusing but every other scene is a flashback. Also, check out Pablo Neruda’s poems, they were my inspiration for this fic.

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Picture Perfect Ch. 2

You’re not particularly into BNM, the new rising kpop group, but your best friend has fallen head-over-heels for their adorable maknae, Lee Daehwi. Your days in college are filled with working on your photography portfolio in hopes that a magazine will hire you, while your best friend’s is filled with stalking keeping up with BNM. However, when one day, your best friend decides to attend a fansign with your best camera, your entire world changes.

A multichaptered fic ft. Park Woojin, the trainees of Brand New Music, Yoo Seonho and the pd101 boys. In this story, your best friend’s name is Lee Seonmi; you two have been friends since high school, and you attend university in Seoul and room together.

Chapter One

Chapter Two: Loyalty

  • ft. Bae Jinyoung as your classmate in university!
  • 2.6k works

Preview:

“Seonmi!” You yelled loudly, racing up to her. She looked up, makeup smeared and cheeks stained with tears. As soon as you pulled her into a hug, she burst into tears again, resting her face on your shoulder.

“T-they kicked me out!” Seonmi wailed loudly, “I didn’t do anything wrong! I was just standing there!”

You pulled Seonmi away from you, gripping her by the shoulders. Fumbling, you pulled a napkin out from your pocket and wiped the makeup away, mouth set firmly.

“Yah, I’m not letting them get away with this,” you snapped, setting off in the direction of the music store. “You didn’t meet them right? Because you got kicked out?”

“(Y/N), no, it’s okay,” Seonmi tugged on your hand, trying to stop you, “I’ll just get into the next fansign.”

“And waste even more money?” You shook your head defiantly, “Hell to the no.” No one– no one– was allowed to treat your best friend like that.

+

As you quickly wrote down your contact and identification information for the manager (and apologized for causing a scene), you had the sensation like someone was staring you. The manager punched your information into his phone, giving you time to glance up.

Your glance was met with an intense stare, coming from the dark eyes framed by the burgundy fringe of Park Woojin.

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So i never got to read harry potter books as a kid, the books were too big and advanced for my at the time limited English and there were no Spanish copies available at my school. Missed out on that original hype to see the books come to life on the big screen and look at the differences and similarities and changes and additions and aaalll of that good stuff that comes with adaptations.
Missed out on that.
HOWEVER
I /Did/ read the heck out of Captain Underpants. All the books, even the extra crunchy book -o- fun ones and the super diaper baby spin off.
Loved them to pieces and I often even tore out the flip o ram on accident over losing my mind how hilarious it was.

Anyway, like I’ve mentioned many several times before, I work at a movie theatre.
And today it was extremely busy, both wonder woman and captain underpants opening showings nearly to completely sold out. I got a call that there was a screaming kid in one of the auditoriums, and since im the best with kids/have the kindest voice they sent me to check it out.
By the time I get there the previews are over and the movie starts off with the DreamWorks logo, but instead of just hearing that opening fairy tale jingle you get George and Harold singing along. Then it opens up to the boys narrating Captain Underpants’ backstory.
By this time the kid is no longer screaming.
Both he and I and the audience are paying full silent attention to the story.
Spoiler not spoiler (?) It starts with the opening monologue he gets when he changes to Captain Underpants, the
“More faster than a speeding waistband! More powerful than boxer shorts! He’s able to leap tall buildings without getting a wedgie!!!”

And goddamn it made me so happy????
I remembered that!!!! From years ago it still felt so familiar!!!! That type of cgi didn’t exist back then but its exactly like I always imagined it to be!!!!!
I haven’t even seen it yet!!! But i love it!!!!!! Im buying my little cousins the books and taking them to see it too!!!!

So this is a silly fic brought to you by that recent post about The Truth about Florists, and a little bit by that other floristry post from a few months ago. And when I’m not on mobile and it’s not past one in the morning, I will link those. If I can find them again.

===

It’s the end of a long day, and Derek is putting the last of the display flowers in the fridge as the front door bangs open. He frowns; he’s technically closed the shop, but he mustn’t have latched the door yet.

A young man leans on the newly cleaned glass counter. He’s out of breath and a little pink in the face, like he’d run down the whole street, though the color in his cheeks could just be from the cold outside. Fall has come late this year.

The guy’s hands will be streaking the glass. Derek’ll have to wipe it down again when he’s gone. But, his inner Laura reminds him, customer.

“How do you say ‘fuck you’ in flowers,” gasps the man.

Derek’s brows draw together, like a little conference of perplexity above his nose.

“Well,” he says, thinking it out, “I guess you could order white lilies. You know, like for a funeral. Like ‘I wish you were dead’.”

The customer hums. “I like the way you think,” he says. “But no. I’m thinking a more opaque burn than that. Because the ancient withered old-man crone – why isn’t there a good male equivalent to crone? That’s totally sexism – this old guy that I work for is such a spectacular asshole, and he needs to be told so. But, uh, in a way that can’t be traced back to me, because I badly need this job. Because student loans. So I was thinking a burn using the language of flowers, so I get the satisfaction even if he never knows. And it’ll probably make his PA laugh, because Lydia knows all things. And she deserves a good laugh.”

“I don’t actually have the language of flowers memorized, you know,” Derek says.

“What!” says the customer, outraged. “But you’re a florist!”

In the twenty-first century,” says Derek oppressively. “The language of flowers hasn’t been used for a hundred years.”

“You’re breaking my heart here,” says the guy, clutching one hand to his chest. “How am I supposed to tell my crush that they have my sincerest admiration and sweetest love?”

He bats his long eyelashes. Derek is 100% unmoved.

“Buy them some red roses,” he says. “And use your words.”

The guy bursts out laughing. He laughs with his whole body, tipping his head back and exposing the long column of his throat. It is unfair, and Derek is tired, and he wants to go home. He came into work at five this morning in order to get an order done for a wedding for a demanding groom – worse, this is the order for the rehearsal dinner, who even gets flowers for a rehearsal dinner? The actual wedding order will be for this weekend, and he’ll have to get Isaac to help out – and so it’s just Derek’s luck that a cute guy comes into his shop, and is maybe flirting with him? and Derek is way too tired to be clever and witty back. Why couldn’t the guy have come in yesterday? Yesterday his esprit d’escalier was more like esprit de counter, and he’d actually managed to give as good as he got to Erica when she came by in her lunchbreak. Yesterday he could’ve maybe had a chance with this guy. Today he has bags under his eyes and his brain is running at half speed.

“Really? Really? I need to use my words? Dude. You have literally struck me dumb, because no-one has said that to me once in my whole life. I am stunned and amazed.”

“You talk a lot for someone who’s been struck dumb,” says Derek, leaning his hip against the counter. There is a twitch at the side of his mouth which is definitely not the beginnings of a smile.

“He jokes! Let me guess,” says the guy, “you got into floristry – florism? because plants talk less than people.”

Derek says nothing to this, because it’s a little too close to the truth. Instead, he changes the topic.

“Anyway, you don’t find most books agreeing about the meanings,” he says, tidying the sheets of decorative paper by the till. “Not if you look at the more obscure flowers, and not just, you know, roses or mums or whatever.”

“You do know about the language of flowers,” accuses cute guy.

“Not really,” sighs Derek. “Not enough to be able to make you an arrangement. I read some books on floriography, but it was a long time ago, and I never committed anything to memory.”

Floriography,” repeats the cute guy, looking utterly delighted. “Okay. So, how big a bunch of flowers could I get for fifty dollars?”

“Mm, about this big,” says Derek, sketching out his seventy dollar arrangement in the air. What? It’s his damn florist’s. He can give a cute guy a discount if he wants. He has rehearsal dinner flower arrangement money in the till, it’s fine.

“Nice,” says the cute guy, nodding. “That’d be the perfect size. That should burn him. So. I’ll go away tonight, get my research on – I’m gangbusters at research, research is my bitch – then I’ll come back tomorrow night with some ideas? I’ll even manage to come before closing which, sorry about that. It’s just that my boss had us in for some sudden emergency all-staff meeting until six-thirty for no obvious reason other than to mess us about. I was meant to leave at four today. It’s Lydia I feel sorry for, though. She had to rearrange her dinner, it was a whole thing.”

He yawns, and it’s catching. Derek can barely suppress his own.

“Anyway!” The guy says. He fishes in his messenger bag until he finds his wallet. “I’ll bring the research tomorrow, then can you deliver the flowers to Gerard the next day? I’ll write down the address.”

“Sure,” says Derek. “So long as we don’t pick out anything that I don’t have in stock.”

“No super obscure flowers like aconite or whatever, check.” He snags the notebook that Derek keeps by the till and scribbles down the address. “I’m Stiles, by the way,” he says, without looking up. He adds STILES at the bottom in blocky letters, and follows it with a phone number. “Um, so. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after work.”

“I look forward to it,” says Derek, then mentally facepalms as Stiles gives him an odd sort of smile. Then the front door closed behind him and he was gone.

*

That night, Derek pulls out his old book on the language of flowers. He found it at a second-hand bookshop when he was fourteen, and since he’d been obsessed with ciphers and secret messages at the time, he bought it.

The book hadn’t given him any clues as to ways to keep his diary secret from Laura, but there was something about the quiet messages that appealed to him: pansy, think of me; bay leaf, I change but in death; peach, your qualities, like your charms, are unequalled.

Sooner or later, however, the book had been borrowed by someone, or relegated to a scarcely used part in the family bookshelves, and he’d barely thought of it again. It occurs to him that the quiet hours he’d spent at the nursery with his father might not have been the only influence on his choice of career.

Thoughtfully, he pulls a notebook towards him and started taking notes.

*

“Okay, so, obviously I couldn’t get to a library today because work, but I have crosschecked like six different websites, and possibly have not sleep enough. But I have a list! I don’t suppose you keep hemlock on hand?”

Derek looks up, and is somehow unsurprised to see Stiles coming into the shop. He doesn’t know anyone who would be halfway into a conversation before clearing a doorway.

“Not since I gave up my hobby of poisoning philosophers, no,” he says. “And I’m not sure a plant mostly renowned for its lethality is really a subtle burn.”

“Shame,” says Stiles, pulling out a sheaf of papers and dropping his messenger bag by the counter. “The meaning was ‘you will be my death’, and truer words have not been spoken.”

He runs his long fingers over the top sheet, flattening it out, and passes it to Derek. Derek picks up a pencil and crosses out belvedere and hops. He taps the pencil against his mouth.

“This’d be very primary colored,” he says. “Also I think I would pick either lavender or geranium, but not both.”

“Uh, lavender, then,” says Stiles, watching the pencil’s movement. “Shame about the belvedere. ‘I declare war upon you!’ It’s exactly the sentiment that I wanted to convey.”

“We agreed to limit it to things I’ve got in stock,” Derek reminds him.

“Ruin all my fun. Oh, hey, who’s that one for?”

Derek follows Stiles’s pointing finger, and sees to his horror that the arrangement he’d been working on is still on the bench behind him.

“Nothing,” he says. “I mean, no-one.”

“It’s not mine, is it?” Stiles says as he shuffles his paper pile, and Derek wants to die. “Except, no, pink carnation’s got a nice meaning. Aw, ‘I will never forget you’. That’s sweet.”

He looks up, and catches Derek’s panicked expression.

Are they for me?” he says quietly.

“Fine, yes.”

He puts them down in front of Stiles, but can’t convince his hands to let go of the box.

“They’re not finished,” he says, staring down at them. “I haven’t put the ribbon around or anything …”

“They’re beautiful,” says Stiles. He lifts them out of Derek’s hands, and their fingers brush. Derek feels every little point of contact like electric sparks. “What’re the lilacs mean?”

“First emotions of love.”

“Aw. What about the tulips?”

“Declaration of love.”

“So forward! Did you do research for this?” He looks up. Derek shrugs. “You did! You did research for me! I don’t think anyone’s ever researched for me.”

Stiles is grinning at his flowers, turning the arrangement around in his hands so he can examine it from all sides. Derek wishes he’d spent more time on it.

“Oh!” says Stiles. “I nearly forgot. I brought you these.”

He opens his messenger bag and brings out a bouquet of red roses, cellophane wrapped and only slightly squashed. Derek takes them from him, dumbfounded.

“Sorry,” says Stiles. “It was a stupid idea, just forget it—”

He reaches for the bouquet but Derek clutches at them.

“No,” he says. “I love them. No-one’s— no-one’s brought me flowers before.”

“Oh,” says Stiles. He licks his lips. “That’s— that’s good. Anyway, they were only the first part. The second part is this: ‘You have my sincerest admiration and sweetest love—’”

Derek puts the flowers aside and draws Stiles in for a kiss.

Fan fiction: Proper Ventilation

Proper Ventilation

By: Shantelle, SheWhoFacesTheSun

The Get Down Fanfiction

Pairing: Dizzee x Thor

Word Count: 6,138

 

Part 1

Summary: Dizzee explores his inner world on his way to meet Thor.

Blistering sunshine and city noise poured though the window as Dizzee Kipling rolled over in bed, the sheets sticking to his skin. Opening his eyes slowly and gently, he faced a new day. The sun heated his chest, seeming to light him a flame with an itching burning, energy. Down the street the sound of drums and tambourines echo loudly between the tall buildings and dirty stairwells.

Man, drum beats in the air this early and it throbs my heart in time to it, thinks Dizzee to himself as he squints, trying hard to study his unchipped nails, the polish glinting in the new angles.

 “Dizzee? Dizzee, are you awake man?” comes Ra Ra’s voice from the narrow hall, “Mom made breakfast. You better hurry up if you want some.”  

Dizzee lazily pulled himself from the damp sheets, reaching up to tug at clumps of his kinky afro. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and smiles. His lips still managing to appear pouting despite his grin and rosy cheeks. Shaking his head, he dresses quickly, trading his sweaty night clothes for his striped bell bottoms and a wine colored fitted muscle shirt. Standing at full height, he slips on several beaded and corded bracelets, a ring and his two favorite necklaces.

 After a quick stop to the bathroom, and feeling mildly refreshed, Dizzee sits down at the already full table. He trades smiles with his little brother Boo Boo, who has a face full of eggs. “What’s up brother?”, he asks with a glint in his eyes, “Get enough sleep?”

Ra-Ra looks up, and nudges his shoulder, “Stop Boo, leave him alone. It’s too early.”

“Nah, he had a late night too. I wanna hear more about this Thor guy,” Boo said, his eyebrows bouncing obnoxiously, clearly betraying serious his interest, even though his voice is still light.  “Is he nice?”

“I said leave it,” answers Ra, looking Dizzee in his eyes and noticing his big brother let out a sigh of relief. Even Yolanda glanced over at his sharp tone. Picking up his fork, Dizzee looks around the bustling room, enjoying feeling of fondness and affection that blossomed in his stomach. Yolanda shimmied in her seat as their dad crooned an old song to her from his place at the head of the table.

“You girls are coming up so quick. I can’t believe it. This Jackie man, he’s good? That good?” Dad questions, his deep voice sounding jazzy, although his words were straight forward.

“Yes Dad! Of course he is. I told you we gonna be big disco stars! We’ve been practicing so hard. Its like it’s meant to be. Mylene was right,” Yolanda responds. Her hair seeming to vibrate with excitement.

“Cool it girl, I believe ya. My babies all have talent. Look at me,” He gestures grandly to himself, then tapped a beat out on the table top, “I’m simply magnificent myself, why wouldn’t you be, Sunshine? Look around, we’re all stars! Even Boo Boo.”

“Hey! I’m the funny one. With the quickest hands on the block,” Boo jeers, pretending to hit a punching bag above his messy plate. “You need to be ready to keep hittin’ them books when school starts back up,” Dad yells with a cool smirk painting its way across his face.

Mom smiles to herself too, as he turns back and continued sing-talking to Yolanda. Ra Ra rolls up his current comic and finally digs into his pancakes. Dizzee can’t help but think of his family as mosaic of color and sound. Zeke was right to compare the Get Down Brothers to different instruments. Everyone has beautiful unique sound. And what is sound without color, in a section of the world this clouded with darkness, fear and temptation?

“What do you boys have planned for today?” Mom asks, slipping into her own seat.

“Well Ma, since you asked so kindly,” starts Ra Ra, as he tapped his rolled up comic book on his skinny thigh, “I’m going to chill with Shaolin and see if we can come up with some kind of business plan for the Get Down Brothers now that he’s been given the clear to deejay again.” Ra liked Shao but wasn’t too sure Shao liked him or his brothers. He was determined to find out and make some money in the progress. Ra Ra understood great teams didn’t just form strong bonds instantly, not even in comics, but he wanted to see how far they could grow in this city of broken dreams and concrete hearts.

“I’mma go down to the arcades, win myself enough tickets for some candy and meet myself a fly girl,” he chuckles loudly to himself, rubbing his hands together. “Whatever Boo, no girl want you. Take some time this summer to focus on growing,” Yolanda wise cracked before sipping her orange juice. Ra Ra stifled a chuckle while passing Dizzee the tray of cooling bacon.

“Its cool Boo,” starts Dizzee in a mellow tone, “You might be small. But you’re not small. Hear this man, you are the universe in delirious undulation. You flow.” 

 Boo Boo stares, then blinks and shakes his head laughing. “You weird. If you mean I’m flier than Michael Jackson, I can dig it.” Ra Ra smiles, turning the page of his book adding in, “Good weird my man, the best kind of weird. Its like your super power Dizz.”

Dizzee glanced at his brothers, spacing out a bit. Everyone is always calling me weird. They are always laughing at me, he thinks to himself, but I’m just trying to think deeply for all of us. We are all but fireworks in this great universe. I am reaching for new treasure in daily life, using words to spread love and become art. Life is art. Right? Maybe my mind is just flying freely, fearlessly. He takes a long sip of his warming orange juice.

“Dizzee? Dizzee?” enters his mother’s voice through the hazy fog of his thoughts. “Yeah?”

“I asked what you were going to doing today? I don’t want you getting into any more trouble. I want my babies safe. This summer has already had its fair share of madness.”

 His mother face was soft with worry and gentleness. Dizzee loved his mother. They both carried tender spaces within them and saw opportunities for creativity when others saw only ruins. Like the moon, they both went through phases. And in the darkness of night and the overwhelming brokenness of this metropolis, people just mistook it for weakness.

 “Uh, I’m just gonna chill at The Writer’s Bench and walk around a little.”

“Just walk around he says,” injects Dad, “Don’t believe that for a hot minute. Don’t be spraying all over the city. Keep them hands clean boy.”

Dizzee looks down briefly before saying, “I won’t. I told you I’m into pop art now.”

Everyone began to clear the table and walk their dishes over to the sink. “Yo, Dizz, you really going to The Bench?” whispers Ra as they start rinsing their plates off shoulder to shoulder.

 “Yeah, Thor wants to meet back up so we can plan a piece together.” Ra looks out of the corner of his eye, skeptical. “Really? I don’t want to be in all in your business man but,” he pauses, “forget it. I just want you to be yourself.” Ra may always have his nose in a book but he’s rarely out of the loop, and is always looking for hints in the world around him. For him life is a comic book and we’re all discovering our powers, second by second. He refuses to miss any of character development.

 “Honestly man, fuck. Reason is powerless in the face of…,” Dizzee trails off, staring out the window into the bright blue sky. Ra Ra examines his face intensely, then looks away. “Do yo thing. Good luck on your next piece. I’ll see you later.” Ra steps back and dries his hands on the towel near the windowsill, slapping Dizzee’s shoulders before walking back to his room. Dizzee stands alone in the empty kitchen, soaking in the residual energy of every member of his family. He feels full but he also feels empty. It’s like there was a hollow space inside of him. He feels emotion pass though it, briefly sustaining him, but never satisfying him as deeply as he instinctually knows it should. Picking up the same old towel, Dizzee dries his hands, noticing his polish chipping off in smooth pieces. He immediately experiences the loss.

 Stopping in the small living room to grab his messenger bag, checking for his sketch books, LSD tabs, drawing markers and graphite pencils. I’ve got all that I need right here, he thinks as he slips quietly out the door, making sure it’s locked tight.

The hallway is much dimmer than his home was, and it feels chilled in the darkness. Walking gracefully, Dizzee shoves his hands into his pockets and starts down the stairs. Seen and unseen. Moving and unmoving. I am that, he thinks as his feet pound out a fast cadence. “Should I take this trip now?” questions his voice within him. He stops in the doorway to the street, and pulls out a tab of LSD and slips it into his mouth. He wonders only for a moment if he looks like a young brown god savoring the moment before taking an offered delicacy, and tastes his own finger tips as it starts to dissolve.

Dizzee sighs, feeling his conscious self relax and release with his measured exhale. Time to run from all which is comfortable. Forget safety. From this point on I’ll be a little mad, whispers his mind again.

The sunshine again lights Dizzee’s skin with fever, as he breezed from darkened hallway of his building. Gingerly swinging his arms in time to his heart beat and foot falls, Dizzee took off down the side walk, noticing the slow shift of color saturations as he traveled. Grays melted into whites. The varying shades of Bronx browns and blacks shimmer and glitter. The noisy voices of people and machinery ebbed and flowed with his focus. It’s like he could flip in between many invisible lens as his head turned back and forth.

Several minutes into his journey Dizzee’s mind takes notice of the moisture gathering in his top lip. Stopping at the cross walk, he slips his tongue out sensuously, and samples himself. Behind his eyes he imagines Thor, his own vigilant suitor, dancing in the afterglow of their kiss. The very ozone around them was so tight and high with their nervousness and delight. They were drunk on each other. A harsh push from behind almost sent him to the dirty ground.

“Hey faggot, some of us got places to be!” The shout comes a man, built of narrow bones and thin, rigid muscles. He was completely decked out in red checked pants and a tight brown printed button up. His eyes were completely blocked by large, dark sunglasses. For a second, Dizzee stops breathing. His head snaps around and his eyes darken with grief before he puts on a cordial smile.

“Hey man. It’s all cool. It’s all cool,” he countered. The older man wipes his hands on his pants and swerves around him smoothly.

Dizzee’s feet move lethargically, as the sheen of tears forced him to blink. If only this hot place could speak with the language of love. But it’s too much of a slaughterhouse to hearts like mine, he thinks to himself as he carries forward to the subway. How can I fly if I’m always picking myself up and need patch my own wings?

Again, Dizzee enter the darkness, leaving the sunshine hanging between the horizon and the Bronx’s smog painted skyline.

Like an unnatural cave, the subway station smells of urine, trash and the pungent funk of sweaty, sour bodies. He could feel the odor crawling over his still warm flesh, cementing itself to his clothes like expired perfume. His lungs struggled to expand as the sounds fluctuated in intensity around him. The clicking of a woman’s heels stood out first, like shrill punctuation. He could see the sound. It was red and bloody and mature. He could hear the swoosh of the doors opening, suddenly reminding him that he had some were to be. The counterfeit lightning flickered above, making Dizzee picture the ceiling being filled with fireflies and dimming flashbulbs.

For an instant he could feel his jaw slacken and his body calm before he came back to into himself. His bag bounced against his hip as he slipped deeper into the crowds. As Dizzee weaved with confidence through the tightly paced space, the dark stains on the ground swirled into lively pastel colors between the feet of his fellow patrons. In the empty space across the tracks Dizzee could see what looked like steam curling up from the railways. The graffiti on the pillars wiggled, jerked and twitched whenever Dizzee glanced their way. He felt less like himself but he could appreciate his world without judgment. He easily pictured himself as an alien among a new species, like shades of himself, walking across the surface of his consciousness. Dizzee pulled a thick marker out his bag, and rolled it in between his palms. It helped him think.

“To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man,” yells a homeless man, wearing grungy khaki pants and a large cross pendent, laid out beside a pillar. Dizzee examines his face, noticing how his wrinkles appear to thaw like ice cream and slip into a younger mask, one lacking pain and weariness. Looking to his left, he spots a couple trying to discover each other with hands, eyes and finger tips. The two were are molded to each other like wet clay. With every second, they appeared to grow big and bigger until he finally walked toward them, passing silently, only for them to expand in details before they started to shrink back down to nothing but star dust and ash.

Every thing around him seemed to slow down, and pulse, as his train came into the station. His breath stops. When the doors slid open, and he immediately sees himself reflected in the scratched up windows. He looked sad. His faced shifting and appeared to liquefy then suddenly snap back into shape. Shaking his head, he stepped on. Looking around he found an empty seat and leaned back, happy to feel the cool metal and plastic against his skin.

The train wasn’t too crowed and the chatter of the passengers wasn’t too loud. The inside of the car was coated with thick lines of graffiti. Bubble letters and sharp words were stacked on top of each other, overlapping and dancing on the walls. Dizzee watched them. There was a pale girl sitting across from him. Her thick unruly hair was pulled into a side pony tail, and sprinkled with steel gray bobby pins. Dizzee noticed that the cover of her book was in Spanish.

He secretly admired the shapeliness of her thighs in her bellbottoms, and wondered if they were soft and doughy in the tight denim. Farther down, a group of kids laughed and joked, poking each other and sliding in the seats. Laughter is so pure, he thinks, giggling to himself. One kid split off from the group, walking over to Dizzee.

“Hey, wanna piece of candy? We got extra,” he says. The boy looked older than his friends, about 10 or 11 years old. He wore a pair of bright white knee socks and a too-small tee shirt.

“Yeah, little man. I’ll take a piece. Thanks,” answers Dizzee, as a Sugar Daddy sucker fell into his palm. The boy reaches out and pats Dizzee’s large afro.

The boy nods his head, like he’s agreeing with himself about something and grins, bopping back to his friends. Dizzee looked down at the candy, studying the waxy paper like it held the answers to the universe. Opening it slowly, he relished the sugary smell of the caramel. He leisurely put it in his mouth. It tasted like the sweetest thing in the entire world and it was like time slowed down, allowing him to apprise the different textures of the treat. He could feel his tongue and cheeks maneuvering over the thin layer sticking to his molars, and with great effort, he felt it release and get pushed to the back of his mouth.

The train continued to move for what felt like hours. Reaching into his bag, Dizzee pulled out his sketch book. Unlike the one for his signatures, it was worn around the edges and the cover was held on with thick strips of duct tape. He flipped past Rumi quotes, original poems, and realistic portraits. His brothers have only see his train burners. He would never expose them to his realer stuff, fearing critique and laughter. People prefer you exist as they have always expected you too, never stepping out of those lines, he thinks.

He pauses on the parts were pages have been ripped out. Those are the one he tries to hide even from himself, tucking them away in the attic with his cans of Krylon, waiting until the day he felt brave enough to see those thoughts in the light of day.

Dizzee pulls out a box of pencils a starts to sketch, his lines fine and delicate. Inside of him lies a door that he keeps locked. He starts to draw the alien in the top hat, feeling the shallow grooves in the paper were the pulp dried loosely. What is it you fear the most, he asks himself quietly? Rejection? Reality? Don’t they say the truth will set you free? What is my truth? I don’t have the answer to that yet for I am but a pilgrim still, he finishes.

The intercom crackles with static. A grainy voice announces Dizzee’s stop as next. Quickly placing his things back in his bag, Dizzee stands ready to pass the threshold. Looking around the car one more time, he casts his gaze toward the girl and the kids and the wiggling graffiti. His face appears vacant. The doors slide open and he moves forward. Swoosh.

The platform was bustling with people but Dizzee ignored them and headed for the stairs. Exiting the tunnel, he could smell rain and steam. The sky was still bright blue, but the ground was littered with wet trash and oily puddles. Each puddle is made of a thousand rain drops, each one holds a story of its journey, he thought, staring down as he walked. The sounds of passing cars pulled him out of his thoughts once again. On a small stoop he spots a beautiful couple kissing. They were both so beautiful, and intriguing. The woman had long, thick dreadlocks, and wore a loose lavender sundress. The man had dark cocoa brown skin that appeared to glowed in the light. He was all hard lines and tough muscles. She was soft, supple and yearning. Her feet were bare, and her toes were painted a cool shade of turquoise.

Could I hold her like that? Would she lay, soft sides exposed in my arms? What does she smell like, paprika and chocolate or sugar cane and lemonade? I would love to feel her nimble fingers rooming through my kinky curls, he thinks. Suddenly his focus shifts.

What if I was her, he thinks, his chest tight with apprehension. Would he feel just as solid as he looks? My hands would pass gently over his swollen arms and come to rest on the nape of his neck. Would his mustache tickle? Would I enjoy the texture of his chest hair against my own body?

Dizzee looks away suddenly feeling ashamed of himself. These are the thoughts he tries to purge onto paper and put under lock and key. But maybe they aren’t bad thoughts. Maybe they are just a different side of himself, a side that has always been there. Like the shadow behind his smiles, it’s just a part of him that he doesn’t quite know yet.

Dizzee keeps walking, priding himself on only looking back at the beautiful couple once. The giver or the receiver. He could be both with ease. He would fit either role. He could trade places with many characters of love. Again, he thinks of Thor and breaths deeply.

Dizzee continues walking, and decides to cut through a small park on a whim. Any park in this city is a splendid oasis. It’s a break from the stone and steel. This particular park had several wide flower beds, smelling of pollen and infatuation. He saw pansies, daisies, rose bushes and many brightly colored tulips. Their petals were perky and healthy despite the intense heat of the summer. He walked unhurriedly through the greenery. Here he felt at peace. Unbound by his name, free from his sadness, and time.

A bee drifts into his line of sight and steals his attention. Dizzee’s mind split then, into a thousand multicolored fragments. Linking and unlinking, as the bee drifted to a daffodil. The flower had a masculine face, and the bee kissed its way down the style in the middle. Dizzee kneeled down on the path, waiting for it to emerge. When it did, it was covered in dusty, yellow powder. The bee danced and shook happily, bouncing back into the humid air. Dizzee followed its journey closely, still kneeling. The bee took off toward a daisy. This time its face was lady-like, and landed gently on its cheeks. The bee kissed this one too. The yellow dust sticking to it again, thick and bright.

Here in this garden, Dizzee accepted himself. He was like a bee. I have seen your descent, dear garden bee, he spoke to himself, now I will watch you rising, for love is like a water. Who decided if the pond or the river is more fit to taste? Men. Women. Men. Women. Men. Both. Feelings.

Dizzee grinned and continued walking through the twisting path. Eventually the foliage gave way to the hard concrete of the city. Back on the sidewalk, Dizzee continued toward The Writer’s Bench. He past several store fronts. Some of the signs painted in windows, and others were brightly printed on cloth. Trash stuck in wet, ugly clumps in the gutter. He was passing a window that had posters advertising hair products when he noticed a panel of vivid colors. Nail polish.

Glancing down at his hands and saw that almost all of his was gone. Dizzee’s own blank nails were pale, even ovals. Why not start over, he thought to himself, opening the door.

The space wasn’t very big, but it was packed full of inventory. Dizzee’s eyes skimmed over the many shelves and counters. He was impressed. It was like any art store, but instead of walls and canvas, they focused on bodies and hairstyle. Walking down the narrow isles he swept his finger tips over the stiff bottles and small jars.

“Hey honey, you lookin’ to buy? Or to browse?” came a rich voice from the back. Dizzee nearly jumped out of his skin. In the back isle, on a small wooden step ladder, stood a gorgeous man. Not beautiful in the way Dizzee had been uncovering, but in the conventional way women were. The man was tall and slender, like a dancer. His skin was a reddish brown and enhanced by tastefully applied cosmetics. Dizzee loved that his hair was stretched into lovely corkscrew coils down past his shoulders.

“Uh, I’m just looking around man,” Dizzee answered, try hard to make his voice sound relaxed.

The stunning man stepped down, spreading his arms flamboyantly.

“Welcome to the Beauty Emporium, a place that nurtures beauty, style and grace in every member of the human race,” he rhymed. This dynamic, showy man was amazing.  He sauntered toward Dizzee. The store was currently empty, so Dizzee was his only audience.

“Well, Honey, what are you looking for today?” he questioned. Dizzee stood awkwardly, feeling a mixture of fear and fascination, much like he did in the art gallery party nights ago. He held his bare nails up, shifting his messenger bag to his left shoulder.

“My hands are my tools, and I come here seeking an expression of new beginnings,” he answered, his voice cracking a bit.

The man walked until he stood in front of Dizzee, gently grabbing his hands. He turned them this way, and that several times.

“Honey, you are indeed a little work of art. You must be searching for some color in a world that’s not always so bright,” he finally said, taking in Dizzee’s androgynous features and clear complexion.

Dizzee rarely met people that understood exactly what he meant, and in such a short interaction.

“My name is Eugene,” said, letting go of Dizzee’s hands. He turned and walked behind another small counter. Eugene bent down and pulled out several glass bottles of polish and a smaller version of the chart in the window.

“I’m Dizzee.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Dizzee,” responded Eugene. “Take a look at this chart and see what catches your eye. Have you worn nail polish before?” the question standing out over the closing and opening of several drawers.

Dizzee stepped up to the glass counter and looked over the chart closely. “Um, only once? Is that okay? I mean I’m…,” Eugene had been watching him closely from the corner of his eyes and cut him off with a practiced eases.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to clarify,” Eugene said, shaking several of the little bottles jammed between his long fingers, much like Dizzee would rattle up his spray paints.

“We are all free to try out new things, or keep a single routine.” Eugene gestured to himself.

“You know, give the people something to look up to. I personally like to switch it up and keep it fresh. I like not being what people expect,” he proclaimed tugging on his dangling earrings with a smile. Eugene seats himself on a stool behind the counter, and does a little spin, chuckling.

Dizzee stared in awe. This soul is here for its own joy, he thought, and finally allows himself to unwind. “Yeah, that’s exactly how I try to be in my art. I spray all city, praying to uplift the people looking for the beauty in the insanity.”

“Graffiti? How fascinating. What are your favorite colors?” Dizzee considered his options, looking up from the chart, pointing to red, blue, and green.

“I wear these colors the most,” he answered. Eugene meet his eyes. “I thought this was about new beginnings. Why keep repeating the same old thing?”

Dizzee thought about Thor, the art party, and the bee. He thought about the alien in the top hat, his buttons and patches. He thought about boundaries, boxes and freedom. Finally, after what felt like years, he looked at Eugene. Brown eyes meeting, finely lined browner eyes.

“I think I’d like to wear yellow or purple,” he answers.

Eugene flips his curly hair, and undoes the top two buttons of gray and white flannel. “As an entertainer myself, I must ask that we go a little fancier. Your hands shall put on a show, a personal spectacle. I have Glittering Gold and Spirited Plum. Give me your hands love.” The names were a little showier than the actual merchandise but the names did make Dizzee smile.

Dizzee rested his hands out flat on the counter, and Eugene started painting. The store was still quiet but the sounds of the street crept in, muffled and subdued. The shop smelled like his mother, warm and comforting. The hum of the countertop fan was relaxing as well. Eugene seemed to understand that Dizzee was lost in thought and embraced the silence as well. Dizzee thought the polish smelled stronger than his aerosols. On trains Dizzee was free to spread his thoughts across the city without opening his mouth. There he was a living myth. When his trains pass, he feels accomplished and could breathe easy. His nails made him brave, and these colors made him feel beautiful too. Men. Women. Those tried of being what people expected them to always be. They should brave, beautiful and free.

“Now, sit with me for a few minutes and let these little beauties dry. I don’t want you rushing back into the streets and messing up all my good work,” Eugene said, capping the polishes.

“If I may be so forward,” Eugene asks with a smirk and twirl in his seat, “What else are you exploring today, besides new colors?”

Dizzee had hopped up on the counter, letting the artificial breeze from the fan cool his sweating face and was surprised to hear another question come his way. Thinking, he flexed his hands, observing how his thin tendons rolled beneath his tawny skin.

“I think I’m on a journey. I haven’t left the city limits, not physically any way, but my spirit is soaring to new heights. I met somebody. This somebody,” Dizzee pauses to sigh, “they make me want to be more than I thought I could ever be. And it’s new and scary and infinitely magnificent all at once.” Dizzee’s eyes began to water and he felt several tears dribble down his cheeks. Eugene leaned beside him, and reached one hand up, cupping Dizzee’s cheek. Using his manicured fingers, Eugene lightly he wiped away the tears.

Eugene shook his head. “Oh Dizzee. You poor, innocent thing. You’re just finding your wings. I know you are afraid. But when we come into this world, we are meant to learn. We don’t come out the womb complete and all knowing; otherwise, what’s the point? I’m going to try and meet you where you are.”

Dizzee wiped his nose on his wrist and sniffled, carful not to pull on his bracelets too much.

Eugene pulled Dizzee into a hug, then started pacing in the small space behind the counter.

“You can be driven by fear or by love. I want you to continue to embrace life, be art and love yourself. You are already beautiful. You are already at your destination because you’re where you are supposed to be. Don’t put any ideas on a pedestal or crawl through the world on your knees, hiding the parts of you that are Glittering Gold in the shadows. You should bloom, Dizzee. You do not need to earn freedom. Just breath and shed tears of healing, not fear.”

Dizzee looked a Eugene like he was preaching the gospel. This man was a beautiful angel. Dizzee understood that Eugene was different, different like birds of the art show party, that kind of different. Dizzee saw a light in this man, that also glowed in himself. And that was great thing.

He who cannot discover himself, cannot discover the world, Dizzee thought to himself. The two of them shared this moment, acknowledging the depth of their conversation with smiles. They shared a synchronized inhale and exhale, allowing their emotions to settle without force.

Dizzee looked again at his nails. Glittering Gold and Spirited Plum. New beginnings. New wings. Freedom to breath and just be. Dizzee could do that. He could see himself as the light, not just in it.

 

“Hey man, that was really deep. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest,” Dizzee says, watching Eugene as he straightened up one of the messier shelves. Dizzee rarely tells people how he feels, preferring to keep things to himself.

“That’s good to hear honey. I know we just met but I’m glad I could but you at ease,” Eugene answered. Eugene, too felt much lighter knowing his words helped somebody.

“Now come here. Let’s see if them nails are dry. It usually takes longer because of the humidity, but we’ll find out together.” Dizzee hops down, careful to hold his hands way from his body. Eugene, again, takes Dizzee’s hands in his, turning them over and holding them toward the light.

“Well, honey, their all dry. I won’t keep you much longer but I do want to give you some free samples,” Eugen says as he steps back behind the counter, this time walking closer to the register.

“Oh no that’s okay. I have money to pay,” Dizzee starts, reaching into his pockets for the few dollars he kept on him. He was happy the the colors they’d chosen, and looked forward to coming back for more.

“It’s fine honey. Think of it as my treat, from one artist to another,” Eugen replies with another secret smile, “And hopefully, I’ve also made you into a new regular Mr. Dizzee.”

“Definitely,” Dizzee answered. Eugene pulled out a small red bag and put in five small bottles of nail polish. They clinked and clacked together as they were passed over to Dizzee, who accepted them with an easy grin. My spirit is opening a new door, he thought, and what if the wall is an illusion?

Eugene pulled Dizzee into a quick hug and walked him over to the door. “Don’t be afraid to come back Dizzee.”

“I look forward to it,” replied Dizzee, stepping out the door. The hanging bell rang behind him.

The street was just as busy as it was when he entered the Beauty Emporium, but Dizzee barely noticed as he continued his walk toward The Writer’s Bench. The tab of LSD was losing its effect but Dizzee continued to notice the roses among the figurative thorns of the Bronx. Women gather in small groups, gossiping and laughing. They had wide smiles and sparkling eyes. Kids splashed joyfully in the cold spray of an open hydrant. They were all soaking wet, slipping and dipping, and their curls were kinking almost instantly. Dizzee smiled and ran though the spray, playful waving his hands in the air. He truly felt his sadness being washed away.

After a few more minutes, Dizzee started to descended the stairs into subway. He traded hellos and hand shakes with a few guys chilling on the dirty steps. They were the keepers of the gates. They were an eccentric group archangels with nothing better to do, especially now that school was out. They watched for any police coming to harass suspected writers. The best look outs.

The subway here was still dirty, the most common colors being brown and gray in the dim light but the artist managed to be pinpoints of color. They each had spirited personalities. They all had something to share or to prove in this area that feed on the dreams of it youth. As Dizzee approached the bench he held his breath. These were his compatriots in the ongoing creative struggle. Yet, with them I still feel alone, Dizzee thinks.

The Writer’s Bench was buzzing with conversation. Kids were discussing the importance of color and how certain textures effect its shine. The older artists were talking about the legal crack down on those that carry the Krylon cans. Each voice was full of emotion. Dizzee learned so much here. It’s here that we create our own purpose, he thinks.

“Aye, Rumi. What’s up man? I thought you had gone ghost,” said Crash, standing to exchange a hand shake with Dizzee. Crash was a cool white guy with a great style. And were there was Crash, his friend Daze wasn’t far way. To many artists they were known as the Chill 2. Unlike Dizzee, they didn’t spray all city, instead choose to focus on claiming the Bronx and Manhattan as main their street galleries. Dizzee loved that they were a harmonizing team of bright paints, bubble letters and wild style.

“Nah man, just working on some new ideas,” answered Dizzee, swinging his bag over his shoulder and sitting down. The wood of The Writer’s Bench was engraved with the names of its most regular visitors, curse words and boughs. Dizzee ran his fingers over the chiseled grooves, imagining the tools that made them. Pens. Knifes. Razor Blades. Pencils. Your weapon of choice reflects a bit of who you were, Dizzee thought.

“Mind sharing what you’re planning? We saw that last burner you put out. Pure greatness,” Daze said. Daze pushed his glasses up his nose. His brown skin appeared dewy in the heat of the subway station.

Dizzee took in their excited expressions, trying to decide if he should tell them the truth or a beautiful lie.  

Spring Break (M)| Part 2

Originally posted by minseokhoseok

Part One | Part Two

Word Count: 4,019

Genre: Smut, College AU, filthy smut, Angst  dear lord I’m sorry

Sneak peak - “So you’re really ok with this?” Namjoon raised his eyebrow as he took a seat on his bed, coincidentally the same spot you had caught him in last night. Except for this time he had on clothes and his underwear weren’t hugging his ankles.


What even was sleep at this point? You refused to leave the lounge area, knowing that if you headed back to your dorm, Namjoon would be there waiting there with an excuse he memorized. His shirtless body was ingrained in your mind and you didn’t know if you could look at him the same again. Fucked, that’s what you were.


All you could hear was Namjoon in your ears moaning your name, and by the sounds of it, it wasn’t the first time. Was this what all guys friends did, or was Namjoon just fucked in the head. Technically you were in his head. Oops.


5 A.M came rolling in on a white horse and you were pretty sure that Namjoon was already off to work by now. Exhausted, you got your numb ass out of the chair you been warming since last night and shuffled back to the dorm. You knew you looked a hot mess but you didn’t care what you looked like, only cared about getting out of yesterday’s clothes. The rest you’d deal with later.


Just opening the dorm door gave you flashbacks and you shook them off before heading to the bathroom to take the longest shower of your life before getting ready for class. You still had plenty of time to just lounge around but you didn’t bother taking advantage and you rush out the door once again.


Damp hair and all, you took your time walking to class, taking in more of school than you had before. Of course, after walking like a slug to class you still end up being almost the first there. Taking the seat you had the other day, you sat there with what you wish was a blank mind as you doodled on a fresh piece of paper.


“Is this seat taken?” Hoseok smirked as he pulled out the chair next to you. You gave him a greeting smile as you watched him slide into the chair while dig through his bag.


“So how’d you sleep last night?” he asked while taking out his notebook with a smile


The question itself made you want to crawl deeper into your seat but instead you decided to push the thoughts further out of your head. “Slept like a baby” you quickly lied.


“At least one of us did” he mumbled with a small chuckle that followed.


You tilted your head as you turned more to look at him, “what do you mean?”


“Well, let’s just say… It was hard” Hoseok began rubbing the back of his neck.


You didn’t know what to say as you stared at him blankly, letting his words register. Just then the teacher decided to make his grand entrance. It was obvious by the teacher’s gestures that today was going to be a very long, very boring day in class.


“Hey…” Hoseok nudged your shoulder. “Hey, Y/N - you okay?”


Your eyes blinked open slowly, and you felt your face flush with embarrassment as soon as you realized what had happened. Glancing frantically up at Hoseok, you hissed, “How long did I nod off for?”


He chuckled, “Only a second. I just saw your head bob and figured something was wrong.” He pointed at the lectern where the teaching was introducing yet another series of boring equations. “See? You didn’t miss much.”


You breathed out a soft sigh of relief, but cast a few quick glances around you to make sure no one else had seen your little “mini-nap.” Most of these people were sophomores and you couldn’t count on them to forget this little incident before you arrived as a student in the fall.


As the teacher droned on, you leaned back in your seat, trying to make the most out of “classes” before the College Days Program ended. Beside you, Hoseok chuckled.


“Geez… you look dead. Guessing you didn’t actually sleep either.”


For some reason the question made you blush and you ducked your head down, pretending to be interested in the book in your hands. “Is it that obvious?”


The rest of class went the same way, a whole much of boring lectures that you had already forgotten once the teacher’s words settled in your ears. You could feel Hoseok giving you small glances every so often and you fought to keep yours straightforward - let alone, open.


Soon as class was dismissed Hoseok pulled you to the side. You were both standing just outside the classroom with your back against the wall with him in front of you.


“ So about last night..” he trailed off with a smirk curling around his lips and he scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry it had to end so soon”


For some odd reason you were feeling bold by his shyness, “it’s fine as long as you make it up to me”


“That won’t be a problem as long as you keep your volume at a level 2 next time,” he joked and you playfully shoved his shoulder as you remembered why all the fun had ended the first time.


“Did you get back to the dorm room ok? I’m sorry I should have walked you back”


What a mess that would have been if he had. You felt your face heat just thinking how what would unfold if Hoseok had walked you back. Before you could even bother answering, you watched Namjoon approached from the corner of your eyes.


He walked directly towards you and you wish you had been invisible but shortly felt Namjoon’s hand grabbing your wrist.


“We need to talk.”


Without any further words, he began yanking you down the hall and you gave a sorry look to Hoseok on Namjoon’s behave while Hosok watches you being forced away in confusion. You were pissed but you expected this to happen sooner or later.


“First of all you look like shit,” Namjoon said over his shoulder as you unlockers the door.


You folded your arms across your chest as you followed him inside, “Wow thank you I’ve always wanted to hear that”


“Sorry”


An Awkward silence fills the room. This was totally like Namjoon always changing the subject and pointing out the obvious when he was nervous.


“So about last night, that meant nothing I was just-”


“I got it Namjoon,” you fanned him off.


“Really because I-”


“Dude it’s fine I should have knocked and like you said, these are co-ed dorms anyways so what really is privacy.” The atmosphere was already awkward you didn’t need any reminder of last night when it was still quite vivid in your brain anyways.


“So you’re really ok with this?” Namjoon raised his eyebrow as he took a seat on his bed, coincidentally the same spot you had caught him in last night. Except for this time he had on clothes and his underwear weren’t hugging his ankles.


You cleared your throat, “yeah, we’re friends right?”


He took a short pause, but you couldn’t read his eyes as he stared at you expressionless.


“Yea, right”


“Well good talk, I’m gonna go say sorry to Hoseok again for his rude roommate. Did you really have to make a scene?”


Namjoon scrunched his nose and raised his eyebrow, “Would you have followed me if I hadn’t?”


“Ok, fair enough,” you said with a slight nod.


You both couldn’t hold back your laughs because knowing your stubborn self, there really was no other way to drag you into the room without literally dragging you like he had.


“What are you doing tonight,” he asked out of the blue. You thought it over and as far as you knew, your schedule was clear for the rest of the day.


“You think later we could grab something to eat and rent a movie or something?”


The offer reminded of old times when this was something you guys did together almost every day after school. It’s been so long since Namjoon went off to college first and now that you had the chance to do the old things again it made you smile and without any further thoughts, you nodded your head.


“See you later then,” you said before leaving the room. At least that was finally out of the way.



It didn’t take much to find Hoseok as you first checked the nearest cafe on campus. You caught his eyes and sent him a tight lip smile as you made your way over to him.


“I’m sorry about earlier, Namjoon had something to tell me that probably could have waited, but you know him,” you said as you slid into the seat across from him.


“You sure everything is ok?” He leaned over to peer into your eyes.

Putting on your most natural smile - which, thinking back on it probably didn’t look normal at all - you nodded, “I’m fine.”


He accepted your answer, though he didn’t look completely convinced. A few moments later, he leaned over again, “Isn’t there this huge assembly meeting today for you upcoming college freshman’s?”


“Ugh…” you grimaced. “Yeah, the question and answer thing.”


“Wanna hang out with me instead?”


You giggled at the question as if your answer wasn’t already obvious enough, “Um, duh.”



“You’ve got to be kidding me.”


The room Hoseok had been crashing in while you slept in Namjoon’s room had pretty much the ultimate geek set-up imaginable, for a college dorm anyway. He had a PS4 and XBOX consoles with two separate towers of games, a Wii with its cables neatly folded, and - hell, yes - a Nintendo 64.


“Nope - not kidding.”


“AND HE’S GOT THE OCARINA OF TIME!”


Hoseok laughed at your outburst, “Yeah, and he’s got a couple two player games, too.”


He shouldn’t have said anything. In an instant, you were on the floor beside the bed digging through the glorious collection, “Banjo-Kazooie, Super Mario, Donkey Kong, Pokemon Snap, Starfox, Perfect Dark - oh, my God! We have to play this one.” you held up Mario Kart and smiled. “Seriously - I want to do the rainbow bridge course.”


He grimaced, but took the game from you anyway, “I hate this game.”


“What? Why?”


“All the falling off stuff and the banana peels make me rage quite a bit.”


“But you like Assassin’s Creed. You fall off stuff all the time.”


“Well, this is different. Because it’s cute. So it’s more insulting.”


You laughed, flopping on the floor and grabbing a controller. “If you’re going to be so mopey, I’ll let you be player one.”


“Actually… I was wondering…”


When you looked over at him, the soft smile had turned into something almost wolfish, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Wondering what?”


“Let’s make it interesting. How about…” he hesitated, and you saw the faintest of blushes creep up his cheeks, “… if one of us loses a round, we have to discard a piece of clothing.”


you felt a tingling between your legs, and you bit your lip to hide the satisfaction on your face when you agreed to his terms.


Besides, you were fairly confident in your Mario Kart skills. He was going down.


Sure enough, he was the first one to lose, and off came one of his shoes. you frowned at him, having expected him to start with something a little bigger, but he just laughed, “It’s a shoe. It’s on your body. It counts.”


“It’s cheating.”


“No, it’s not.”


“Well… it’s not fair. You’re wearing socks under your shoes, I just have your flip flops. That’s two extra pieces of clothing for you.”


He winked at you, “Then you’d better not lose.”


It was a challenge, and you knew it. But, you really can’t win against the thunderbolt powerup. You’re not sure how he did it, but he got two of them and managed to win - ahead by two laps. Off came one of your flip flops.


Next was his second shoe, both his socks, your second flip flop, your headband, his shirt…


Whoa… you did a double take when he removed his first “real” article of clothing, taking his taut stomach and muscles. There hadn’t been any doubt before of how sexy he was, but now to have visual proof - you could barely contain yourself. your clit throbbed between your legs, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks when you realized how wet you had become in the short time I’d been staring.


He grinned at you, and you gulped. If you lost this next one, the next thing to come off would be either your shirt or your pants. And you weren’t wearing a bra.


As we started the next round, nervousness began to give way to excitement, and somewhere after that you stopped caring about winning or losing, or even staying on the track. It was hard enough knowing that a shirtless hottie was sitting next to you and that you had to keep your hands off until the game was over. So, of course, due to your inattention… you lost.


Hoseok set down his controller and nodded to you, “All right - what’s it gonna be?”


You met his gaze squarely, before hooking your fingers under the hem of your shirt and pulling it off. As your breasts fell free of their confinement, Hoseok caught his breath and you heard him swear softly as he stared at you.


“Damn…” he licked his lips. “Those are… I mean, you’re… fuck,” he cursed again in embarrassment. “I’m sorry - I don’t know what to say. You’re so beautiful, and -”


“Are you just gonna sit there or are you going to make a move?” you interrupted, scooting a little closer. He nodded, and you smiled at him.


Yesterday you wouldn’t have dared to ask such a thing. But you were bolder now than you had ever been. And you knew exactly what you wanted.


He didn’t need to be asked twice. Gently, his hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs running across your nipples. You were so horny, and your tits were so sensitive, so you gasped when he took them between his fingers and rolled them back and forth.


Before you had much time to react, Hoseok’s mouth was upon them - licking, sucking, kissing, and you whimpered as sheer desire coursed through you. Somewhere in that last second the both of you just… gave in. The careful young man he had been a minute ago had somehow transformed into wanton rogue that knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. Whatever had changed - it made you want him even more, if that were possible.


His hands roamed your body, from your cheeks to your shoulders to the dip of your waist, stopping at the rise of your jeans. His fingers slid beneath the fabric and you bit your lip, frantically moving your hands from his broad back to undo the button and zipper of your pants. The moment you was finished, he slid them, and your underwear, off.


you were completely naked, and yet every shred of nervousness you had felt before melted away. you wanted this. You wanted him. And, judging by the bulge in his pants, he wanted you too. you reached for his pants, but he caught your hands and pulled away from you.


“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up so you could peer into his eyes.


Hoseok shrugged, “I… I really like you, but… if you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this.”


You almost laughed. Here you were, naked and practically begging to be fucked, and there he was - being chivalrous. It would have been the cheesiest thing, except, from the furrow in his brows and the concern in his eyes, it seemed he really meant it.


It was… unexpected. Sweet.


You have never been good at flirting - all that eyelash batting and booty swaying, it just wasn’t your thing. Whenever you did it, it always seemed awkward and out of place. So you didn’t. And yet somehow, you found yourself alone with this amazing person and you hadn’t even had to pretend to be one of those “sexy, popular” girls. you had just been you.  For christ sake - you’d just been playing Mario Kart, of all things. Who does that?


So, in answer to his question, you just smiled. And you hoped that somehow you could convey in that one smile just how much you wanted this.


It worked. His grip on your wrists relaxed and you pulled yourself free, scooting forward and reaching back down to the button and zipper of his pants. Your eyes traveled down across his chest, his flat stomach, and to the button, you was struggling with. Nervousness more than anything put the slightest tremble in your fingers as you managed somehow to undo the button and pull down the zipper.


Hoseok slid out of his jeans, and you caught your breath at the bulge in his boxers. He smirked a little bit at your obvious gawking and pulled you both to our feet, guiding your hands to the waistband of his underwear, “Go ahead, take them off.”


So you did - slowly and carefully. you pulled the material down his legs and your eyes widened at the monster in front of you.


“Oh, my god…” you breathed, your hands reaching up to encircle his length. It was so thick… It wasn’t as long as you imagined, but it was wider, and so very, very hard. It pulsed beneath your touch and you almost whimpered - you was so crazy wet. Would he even fit in you?


Tentatively, you leaned forward, flicking your tongue across the tip of his cock and felt him shudder. Encouraged, you flicked your tongue again, snaking it across the small opening, and then down the underside. Slowly, your tongue moved back upwards and your eyes met his own just before you slid the head of his cock into your mouth. Hoseok’s breath hitched, and he rested his hand on the back of your head as you bobbed back and forth on just the tip.


“Fuck… yes.”


Feeling a little more daring, you lifted your free hand and grabbed the base of his cock, pumping in time with your mouth. He was more than a mouthful - and that was just the first few inches. But you wanted to try for more, and you gingerly pressed forward, taking him in until it almost hurt. You couldn’t fit all of him in your mouth, but your hand made up for the difference, and you sucked him fiercely until he was panting. On your head, his fingers grabbed your hair - more for balance, you guessed, since he hadn’t tried changing your pace.



Your jaw was beginning to ache, so you bobbed once more deeply and pulled back, smiling at the pleasure written across his face.


“My god…” he managed after a moment, pulling you again to your feet and then pushing you back against the bed. “You’re so fucking sexy…”


Flat on your back, you spread your legs for him, almost aching with how badly you wanted to feel that cock inside of you. Covering your body with his, his mouth reached for one of your nipples while his hand reached down to rub your sensitive clit. you gasped at the onslaught as his fingers alternated between sweet torture and agonizing pleasure.


You were on fire - every flick of his finger brought you closer to an orgasm and you thrust your hips forward at him, begging for more, aching for release. He took his time, however, until he felt your body begin to tense beneath him. You saw something flicker in his eyes as he withdrew his finger, and you whimpered at the mischievous smile on his face.


Before you could say anything, he covered your lips with his and pushed the head of his cock into your throbbing cunt.


The sound you made at the sudden entrance was somewhere between a growl and a groan, and you squirmed beneath him when he hesitated.


“It’s okay,” you murmured. “You won’t hurt me.”


Slowly - oh, so slowly - he pushed the rest of his cock inside of you. you let out a guttural moan, feeling just how very tight a fit he was. As it was, it was uncomfortable for only a few moments, but your cunt adjusted to his girth, and within a few more long moments he was buried all the way inside you.


“You’re so tight,” he said, his teeth gritted.


“Fuck me,” you urged him, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him down for a passionate kiss. When he pulled his cock out, you almost cried - it felt so empty without him inside of you- but then he thrust forward again and you whimpered as he once again stretched you out. How could something hurt and yet feel so, so good?


But he was too slow - too nice - too considerate. And you wanted to be ravaged. With a growl, you pushed him off of you and settled on top of him, rubbing your smooth pussy against the underside of his cock. He leaned his head back and groaned, and you held your breath as you plunged yourself down on his massive member.


The pleasure outweighed the pain this time, and a few thrusts later, it was all gone - lost somewhere in a fog of bliss. He filled every part of you, touching places you hadn’t known existed, and you rode him with a furious passion.


“Y/N,” Hoseok grunted. “I’m… getting close. You need to get off.”


You heard him. you really did. you just didn’t care. you increased your pace - your own orgasm was near and you wanted to reach it the same time he did. His hands - when had they reached your waist? - tried to slow you. You could tell he was only giving you a token resistance. If he’d really wanted you off of him, he could have lifted you off of him at any time. But he didn’t, so you didn’t stop. Couldn’t actually.  You were so close…


The next time he called your name, his entire body tensed and trembled beneath you. Long, thick, hot ropes of his cum erupted in your pussy and you screamed as your own orgasm consumed you. Fuck, there was so much cum - you didn’t think he’d ever stop. You almost wished it wouldn’t. Long moments later, you let yourself collapse atop him - panting and trembling. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.


When you both had time to catch your breath, he murmured, “So… we’re good, right? You’re on the pill or something?”


“Yeah,” you chuckled.


“Oh, good…” he smiled. “Because that was amazing.”


“More than amazing,” you assured him, placing a lingering kiss on his lips.


“So does that make up for last night?”


You leaned up off his chest as you looked into his hooded eyes, “you bet your ass it does”


You both dressed slowly, taking most of your time to stop and kiss, or tease each other, and then packed up the games. By the time you were done and looked at the time, it had already been past 9 PM. Where the hell did time go? You said your goodbyes and shared you last kiss before leaving the room and heading to the dorm you shared with Namjoon.


You weren’t expecting to see Namjoon sitting in the dark with only a reading light near his bed on and it almost scared you half to death. You noticed his clenched jaw and the movie he held aggressively tight in your hands when it dawned on you. You had totally forgotten about movie night.


“Namjoon… I’m-” you didn’t have an excuse, you fucked up.


Namjoon sprung off the bed and brushed passed you, not even wasting his time to hear a bullshitted excuse you still tried to think of. He slammed the door behind himself and you instantly jumped by the impact. Just when everything was on the right track again, you had the best of luck with fucking it up again.

How the hell are you going to make up for this one smart one?


A/N- I’m not sure if ill write part three but if I do its more than likely the end of this short series. feedback is encouraged to motivate me to write but PLEASE do not pressure me by asking me when the next part will be out. I get overwhelmed too fam

FEED BACK?

ID doc´s  year in life

TIME

Christmas is almost here and I can´t believe that it´s gonna be a year since I started…doctoring. AND WHAT A YEAR. I feel like i learnt a lot but also like I still have even more learning to do.

There is a lot of u here, still don´t get how this rant-filled blog has so many followers but I am glad it has. I am glad there are folks out there caring about my every day bs (and some of u even follow me on twitter! what a ride that has to be.)

Well anyway, I feel like i haven´t posted anything of value in a while. So for the first time in a long frickin time i sat down with my computer, opened a bag of extra cheesy nachos and started to write down some ideas.

In this first post (out of few i guess) I wanna write u down some of the ideas/schemes which worked for me about how to handle your time as a first year doc. As u can see I won´t be using the term intern. Where I am from …u r not really an intern. U are a full fledged doc who still needs some supervision but also sometimes when somebody professionally younger ends up with you….sometimes I am the “attending”. Doesn´t happen often but it does happen sometimes. So if u are from similar backround, or even if u r not…I hope this is gonna be helpful…or something.

  1. Plan your year

What? A year? YOU MUST BE CRAY.

No actually it´s pretty neat so just hear me out. Have some sort of plan/planner. I use my iphone calendar which can sync with my computer´s and I use a paper planner too…bc I am oldschool. 

There are occasions like birthdays and anniversaries, work stuff like a conferences and tests and certificates to take which has to be planned super ahead. Making a rough outlook of your next year wont hurt. Setting up a reminder for your boyfriends bday a month ahead so u can research the perfect gift? I mean common…that can be neat. Reminding u the next dentist or gyno visit…..The last possible day to pay for that conference….SET UP SOME REMINDERS. Made my life so much easier.

2. Plan your month

Girl u gotta set up those period reminders. Getting stuck in a all nighter without pad or a tampon and  have to ask the nurse to bring u some from the supplies u have for patients….not pretty…and those pads and AWFUL. Nothing worse that handling your shift well just to realize your panties are like something from a murder scene. 

Totally kills the vibe.

Also it´s good to know when do u have shifts. Mark the dates. Do meal prep before a shift and a “cool down” activity after a shift. I usually go out to see a movie or just plan a fun night with my bf and a bottle of wine watching Gilmore girls. It will make u something to look forward to as u get up at 4:00 in the frickin morning for otherwise healthy young man who had one watery stool and vomited once…and u bet your ass he called himself an ambulance. OH the rage.

If u have some holiday that month…do so! Sleep in, cook food, chill out…self care folks. Planning is caring.

3. Plan your week

I usually play my week around three or four main activities. Firstly work, second my free tme, my chill time and my beauty time. I´ll talk about work later.

My free time is all about friends, family and my boyfriend. I make sure I stay connected with people I care about even only when I send the poo emoticon to my brother. I call with my mom. I do some reding for work, I check up with finances, I check up what´s needed at home. I make plans to cook/buy/clean up. If not on paper at least in my head. I do yoga.

I CANNOT recommend a more useful app as Wunderlist. If u like lists and u have a partner with who u share a flat THIS IS THE SHIT. It makes u share lists and u can see if he or she checks the boxes as DONE. Makes doing house-work and buying stuff way more easier. And fun.

My chill time is about winding down. I don´t usually do a lot of moving during my chill time. I either just watch netflix or read a book or scroll on tumblr or play new Dishonored. I just chill and I dont care if there are dirty dishes or if my core isnt tight enough.

Beauty time is all about the pampering. Working at the hospital is gonna take a lot. Not just the stress and long hours - but also the overheated rooms during winter when the ganitors run the central heating UP TO MAX SOLAR LEVEL BURN BURN EVERYONE BURN. Your hair suffers and your skin suffers and its all dry and kinda unhealthy looking and there are weird spots and veins….I take long baths, I do face masks and hair masks and essential oils. At least once a week there is a section which is all about that bod. Your body is your temple. And u wouldn´t want your temple to be dry gray depressing wasteland would u. Take care of that bod. There are few essentials, when it comes to these things- I use/bring to wards everyday but about that some other time.

I usually plan one or two fun activities each week. Might seem like that´s not enough but When I come at home at four, it already dark outside, and its six below zero…there isnt much will left in me to even do stuff, not talking about going outside! that´s cray! So that leaves weekends. I plan meetups with friends, trips to the cinema, getting to know the city (bc we moved). Anything really. Something to look forward during your work hours. Unless you work weekend in which case everything sucks and nothing can save you.

4. Plan out your day

Oh boy. I use to plan a day  into two big sections. Firstly work, secondly the rest.

I have to be at work before 7:00 and I should know at 7:00 if shit went down with my patients. It usually means sitting behind a computer, eating my breakfast, slurping strong coffee and reading my colleagues notes about the night shift.

Then I make small notes about my patients like
“Miss X will have CT today, need to call the tech and tell him…..”

or

“Mr. Y doesn´t like his diet…gotta talk with the diet nurse and come up with something..”

Stuff like that. Stuff actual FOR THAT DAY. 

If u are freshly out of school and suddenly u work at a hospital…the whole process can and probably will take some time to getting use to. You will have to make up a system which works for u -  from how to best manage patient, who u can turn when u need a surgeon´s opinion when the the surgeon on call is a total asshole. Which therapist is the best and actually helps people. Where u can score some free pens ? Stuff like that.

For me the hardest thing was how to most effeciantly do rounds. I often have 8-10patients. SOmetines when I am all alone on the floor I have 20patients. And they can be all very difficult cases. And nobody is there to help me.

So I usually start - first the acutely worsening - septic, old folks which cardiac problems, suspected PE etc….there is A LOT that can happen in ID department. If there isn´t anyone actively dying on me I usually start with new admits. They normally take the most time.

I check their papers, their vitals, their main complains and after I go check on the physically. Then I come back and write my notes, order tests etc. When that is all done I check out if any new results came in.

!!I always write notes into my patient´s papers about which results we are still waiting for.

Again, if nobody is actively dying, around twelve I go to have a lunch. I eat regularly. Bc, once again guys. Self-care. The department won´t crumble after you leave for 20-40minutes for your legally required brake. Also running a floor…its a team effort.

And thats why I have to make  a correction here…

The first thing I actually do when I come in in the morning, I ask the nurse: Who do I need to see first. Bc nurses are your eyes and ears and hands.

After lunch I write down plans for my patients, something like :need another chest xray and if clear will go home the day after tomorrow…etc. In that case u always know who and when u wanna discharge somebody.

Also I write discharge papers…I try to write a bit every day of their hospitalization…but i am gonna be honest…sometimes I am just too frickin lazy.

And then its 5minutes before the end of my work day. And that´s that.

When it comes to most of my notes in my planner about my post-work activities….I usually have writing down stuff like - V cooks dinner, dishes are on me this time, gotta start christmas decorations. Gotta buy a christmas tree! Write down all the food I wanna cook on christmas…look up recepies and ….

U get the idea.

I was never a big planner. I kinda swam tru my life plan-free. Stuff happened and I managed. But once I started working as a doc I realize there IS A LOT I have to keep up with - work and home and friends and LIFE. It cannot be all work and no fun.

AvannaK’s Harry Potter Fic Recs

I love feeling as though I’m reading the very same characters I fell in love with. I love any sort of deviation to be intimately woven with canon, so I can just barely believe it were possible. I love character studies above all else. I’ve spent a decade and a half scouring Harry Potter fanfiction, on and off, learning this about myself: what I love, what I’m interested in, and the extremes and repetitive themes I have no tolerance for. Not without a suspense of belief. I am an extremely picky reader at this stage (aka super duper picky brat). These are what I find to be enjoyable.***

0800-Rent-A-Hero by brainthief (on going)

Magic can solve all the Wizarding World’s problems. What’s that? A prophecy that insists on a person? Things not quite going your way? I know, lets use this here ritual to summon another! It’ll be great! - An eighteen year old Harry is called upon to deal with another dimension’s irksome Dark Lord issue. This displeases him. EWE - AU HBP

Opinion: If there’s ever a ‘Harry gets summoned into an alternate dimension to kill their Voldemort’, it’s this one. It breaks Divination down to a science and turns it into a reasonable subject. There’s no ‘gratuitous punishing of the wrong-doers’ and a realistic post DH Harry.


Grow Young With Me by Taliesin19 (on going)

He always sat there, just staring out the window. The nameless man with sad eyes. He bothered no one, and no one bothered him. Until now, that is. Abigail Waters knew her curiosity would one day be the death of her…but not today. Today it would give her life instead.

Opinion: The only remotely epilogue-compliant story that I’ve genuinely enjoyed. The most realistic portrayal of Harry as a father, of his children as honest-to-god children, that I’ve seen. If you want Daddy!Harry, a begrudgingly fond way of looking at Harry/Ginny without the story itself being Harry/Ginny, and great story telling, check this one out.


Hocus Pocus, Adele Polkiss by Ecmm (complete)

HPxOC. Runs along with the original storyline. Adele Polkiss is the younger sister of Piers Polkiss, a close friend of Dudley Dursley. This way she meets Harry Potter, a curious boy with a mysterious past, and a wonderful secret… Magic! COMPLETE

Opinion: One of my favorite Harry/OC fics. As stated above, I love character interactions between Harry and muggles and everything his upbringing brought to him. I refuse to believe that he spent his summers only doing chores or in his room doing homework.


*Midnight Blues by Zeitgeist84 (ongoing/ hiatus?)

After the fall of Voldemort, Harry makes a dumb career choice and Ron tags along. Hermione, sensibly, doesn’t. Seven years later, a very different trio are drawn into an international web of intrigue by a little girl and an old relic. Lesson to be learned: stay in school, kids. Post-DH; Slightly AU. Rated M for language and violence. Not slash.

Opinion: This. Is. Everything. Everything I wanted and needed post DH. This is more of a deserving ending than that… epilogue. Consider: young-adult!golden trio with appropriate relationships, realistic career choices, honest character portrayals, and acknowledgement of the damage growing up as a child soldier entails. Additionally: humor and action. My favorite combo.


Recall Alice When She Was Just Small by: Harmonic Friction (complete)

Dudley Dursley: champion boxer, crass chav, cannibal?, bad boyfriend, good son, annoying cousin, best friend. It’s hard to keep all the identities straight. Fin.

Opinion: I recall this as an enjoyable read and an excellent portrayal of Dudders. Side note: I’ve always been a sucker for exploring Harry’s relationship with Dudley and the impact his muggle upbringing has had on his life (as well as moments within said upbringing). This one turned it all on its head and focused on Dud.


** Taking Umbidge by: E.C. Scrubb (ongoing)

A French Veela with a vendetta against Death Eaters is tasked to counter Umbridge and protect Harry, Ron, and Hermione. But a Death Eater’s attack has changed Harry and Ron. Now, they’re focused, driven, and as their fifth year at Hogwarts unfolds towards a climatic ending that rocks the wizarding world, Fleur is desperately trying to keep them safe from Voldemort, and themselves.

Opinion: An appropriately slow-burn Harry/Fluer that doesn’t focus on the pairing itself, but on Fluer, and the struggles of the teens coming into the war. No bashing. Great characterization. Treats every individual with respect and well written.


The Aurors by: FloreatCastellum  (complete) 

The last thing Harry Potter wants is to be lumped with a trainee Auror, especially one that idolises him. As he guides her through the realities of being an overworked Auror and tentatively settles into adult life with Ginny, a dark plot brews on the horizon…

Opinion: Great murder mystery that swings right out of the books quite naturally. Everyone’s very IC. It’s well written, easy to read, and engaging. It follows a believable OC that fits perfectly into the world and aids in further incredibly in-character interactions. Loved it.


The Legacy by storytellerSpW (on going)

A book left by Sirius opens Harry’s eyes as he delves into the mysteries of magic, learns about the realities of a war, and shifts towards the Grey. Meanwhile, Daphne Greengrass is faced with an unusual solution that involves the Boy-Who-Lived, but could be more trouble than it’s worth. And in the end, there is always a price to be paid for everything. HP/DG Contract, 6-7th year

Opinion: If there is ever a ‘Marriage Contract’ fic to read, it’s this one. The contract thing has been done a thousand times. Only a handful are tolerable (e.g. worked through believably with politics and no ‘instant falling in love). But this one takes the whole cake. It’s about power, war and strategy well before romance. Realistic coverage.


The Lie I’ve Lived by jbern (complete)

Not all of James died that night. Not all of Harry lived. The Triwizard Tournament as it should have been and a hero discovering who he really wants to be.

Opinion: Another one I haven’t read in forever, but recall fondly. Honestly, I’ve enjoyed all of jbern’s stories (check out JIAB too). He’s one of those writers that can veer into OOC in fanfiction and I don’t mind because he makes it worth it.


The Rebel and The Chosen by chelseyb (complete)

When Tonks & Harry meet, they quickly become friends. When tragedy brings them together again, it develops into more. Age, school, & war are only some of the obstacles in their way. Mix of canon & A/U. Rating mostly for language.

Opinion: I enjoyed this one especially because it fell heavily in with the canon text.


*The Red Knight by: Demon Eyes Lahiri (ongoing)

When Ron Weasley realized he was reborn to the world with his memories mostly intact, he felt it was a second chance to do better. However, he slowly realizes that this world was different from his own. Making new friends and earning new enemies, he has to use his experience from his previous life not only to reach his goals, but also to survive. AU

Opinion: I’m more of a Harry Potter-centric story fan, and maybe it’s the slow build of Weasly!bashing that’s driven me to this, but I honestly, honestly urge anyone who’s a fan of the books, of JK Rowling, to give this a shot. An unexpected new love for me.  IC, manipulative, real.


The Strange Disappearance of SallyAnne Perks by Paimpont  (complete)

Harry recalls that a pale little girl called Sally-Anne was sorted into Hufflepuff during his first year, but no one else remembers her. Was there really a Sally-Anne? Harry and Hermione set out to solve the chilling mystery of the lost Hogwarts student.

Opinion: An excellent, practically stand-alone Harry Potter fanfiction. Give it a go.


***I have no tolerance for weasley-hating/brutish!ron, nonsense such as soul-bonding and harems, ‘shrill’ females that threaten a pairing, etc. Don’t hope for those here.