this was my transport home

A look back at intern year

A long and brutally honest look back: 


A year ago, I packed up everything I owned, got on a Greyhound bus, and moved to an apartment I’d never seen in a city I wasn’t at all acquainted with where I didn’t know one.single.person. I left behind my friends, my family, my husband, my dogs, my entire life. 

I was more excited than I can describe. I was more terrified than I know how to express. It was exhilarating.

A year ago, I sat in a room way up high with a view overlooking my new city with the other new surgery interns while the senior residents gave lectures about what to expect, how to tie knots, the pointy knife is a #11 blade and the round one is a #10.

I believed them desperately through my terror as they said, “intern year is so fun,” “I miss intern year,” “you’re going to have the time of your life.”

I believed them, but I shouldn’t have.

Intern year was not fun. It was not the time of my life. It was hard. It was miserable. I will not miss it.

I started the beginning of the year off service on ortho and urology. Off service, AKA where they don’t have to care about you. I worked insane hours reducing fractures without appropriate supervision and answering the multiple pagers I was carrying at once. I didn’t step foot inside of an OR. I literally physically felt like I was drowning. I seriously wondered if I had made a mistake in choosing surgery.  I sobbed on the phone to my husband on more than one occasion.

Then I went into the SICU for two months straight. In House of God, the narrator likes the ICU because it’s easy – just a bunch of numbers and formulas, no “real” medicine. The truth in this is dumbfounding. The SICU became comfortable quickly and I got good at it quickly and I got bored of it quickly. At the end of two months, I could practically adjust a ventilator or pressors or tube feeds in my sleep. My opinion was valued highly by the attendings on rounds (which – kill me – lasted 2-3 hours every morning), but outside of rounds, the fellows viewed me as a note-writing scut machine. The saving grace was that I had a lot of time to be able to teach the medical students rotating through the SICU.

In October, I finally got to join my people in general surgery when I rotated on to our colorectal service – a notoriously busy and hectic rotation with demanding attendings. After the serious learning curve that was adjusting to being back in the surgical world, I actually had a pretty good month. My team was amazing - we all worked hard, often laughed together til we cried, and had a blast teaching our awesome med students we had that month. Though I was still terrified of being a doctor, scared of the OR even as much as I loved it, and learning how to navigate the hierarchy that is the world of surgery, I could feel myself easing in. It felt awesome.

With November came surg onc with it’s own set of challenges. I lost my first patient – I will never forget the image of him hemorrhaging out of his mouth with fear in his eyes.  I told his mother by myself while my chief was in the operating room that her son had died unexpectedly. It ripped me to pieces and I lost sleep over it for a long time, but my colleagues (interns all the way up to chiefs) rallied behind me.

December was vascular surgery. Vascular has a reputation of being the hardest rotation of intern year, and there is a very good reason for that reputation. If there is a hell, it is being an intern on vascular surgery for eternity. The hours were truly brutal, the patients sick/dying, the leadership totally absent, the attendings not only mean but unethical and immoral. Winter descended so it was dark when I went to work and dark when I left. It was cold. The stress of the ABSITE hung over me always. The stench of dead feet never left my nose. I was often relegated to assisting on angios for days at a time with an attending who is notorious for not letting residents do anything except hold wires. Vascular broke me. I was desperate for anything but vascular by the time to new year rolled around.

The new year brought with it my happy place – our public city hospital. The atmosphere was more laid back, the attendings seemed to truly value resident input, I saw a lot of true general surgery (gall bladders and appys and hernias galore!). The patients (90% of whom speak no English) were incredibly grateful to their care team. I took consults as an intern, which was a really fun learning experience, even if it was exhausting at times.  It was here that I truly began to become comfortable in the operating room as the attendings let me stand on the patient’s right side. The ABSITE came and went. Six weeks there flew by and then I was whisked back to our mother ship for six weeks on our program director’s service.

Six weeks with my program director was stressful, as anticipated, but what truly killed me slowly over that six weeks was the amount of scut I was doing. By this time in the year, I was finally coming into my own as a doctor. At the beginning of the year I hadn’t minded scut – I didn’t know how to be a doctor so I was happy to just take direction and be useful however I could. By February, I was good for more than just transporting patients and prescribing medications to patients the senior residents had operated on because the seniors couldn’t be bothered to do it. It began to eat me up. And not just me – my classmates felt the same way. But we were totally helpless, literally everyone had more power than us. Morale was low.

April came and I spent a second month on colorectal. The level of scut was out of control, and on top of it all my cointerns would often comment that our already difficult-to-please chief was harder on me than anyone else.  Outside of the OR, I was miserable, but inside of the OR, I finally found something I was actually really good at (though I probs should not admit that I am very, very good at sewing inside of an asshole). My confidence blossomed, which did not help the misery of being stuck doing “intern work.”

May was a nice wind-down-to-vacation month as I rotated on plastic surgery. I always work hard, but it was nice not to have any real expectations since I’m not “one of them.” It was relaxed. Everyone was so happy and so nice (residents AND attendings)! The chief never yelled if someone was late to rounds because they’d been stuck in the hospital til 2am, residents would scrub into ORs they weren’t assigned to to help speed along the surgery so everyone could go home at a reasonable time, my weekend calls were home calls. I think I only transported one patient all month. I was treated like a resident more than an intern.

The chiefs graduated at the end of May. I won a teaching award at the banquet.  I celebrated with my cointerns who have become family, each one of them with their strengths and quirks, each one of them with their special home in my heart.

June – sweet, sweet June. After going 11 months without more than 2 days off in a row, June finally came and with it came vacation. I walked out of the hospital (late, of course) on the last day of May and literally did not look back. And now here I am.  

A year ago, I sat in a room way up high with a view overlooking my new city with the other new surgery interns while the senior residents gave lectures about what to expect, how to tie knots, the pointy knife is a #11 blade and the round one is a #10.

I believed them desperately through my terror as they said, “intern year is so fun,” “I miss intern year,” “you’re going to have the time of your life.” They were wrong.

But what they were right about was, “ you will form incredible friendships this year,” “you will grow so much,” “in a year, you won’t believe where you started and how far you have come.”

I adore my surgery residency family, especially my co-interns. I have grown into a doctor, the beginnings of a surgeon. And I truly can’t believe I got here from where I started. It has been a harder journey than I had ever imagined, but here I am, after it all, standing upright. Here I am, ready to continue hurtling forward.

A Present | Crowley x Female Reader

Warning: Smut, Attempted Sexual Assault, Protective Crowley, Slight Daddy!Kink

Words: 1346


(Y/N) POV:

I was sat in front of the elegant vanity Crowley had gotten me years ago.

“You’re sure you can’t come tonight?” I asked him softly, turning to meet his eyes as I put one of my earrings on.

“I’m sorry, my darling, Hell is a busy place. I’ll be right here when you get back. Have fun, love.” He said softly, placing his calloused hands on my shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek before snapping his fingers and transporting me to the club.

Crowley had invested in it a few years ago, it was utter elegance. All velvet furniture and expensive wines. Dark lights and gorgeous decor. He loved the place, a place for demons and other monsters to mingle and roam free. I was dressed to the nines with designer pieces Crowley had insisted on buying me (Displayed Below). I held my head high as I walked to the bar, everyone knew who I was and that’s just how I liked it.

No one fucks with the queen. After all, I’m the only one who could ever make the king go soft. Crowley set very fine rules about me. No disrespect, no touching, no saying no. I settled on the plush, red, velvet stool at the bar and shot a knowing smile at the bartender. Her name was Jasmine and she knew exactly what I’d want as I came here often.

After a few moments mingling with the others and having a laugh, a man approached me. I could tell by the scent he was new. Fresh out of Hell, he must’ve just turned. He walked up to me, a dimpled smirk playing on his lips as he leaned on the bar.

“Mind if I buy you your next one?” He said smoothly, nodding towards the glass in my hand.

“Mmm, thank you, but I get my drinks free of charge.” I said softly, smiling at him. He cocked his head in confusion, it reminded me of a lost puppy.

“I guess you could say I’m…the owner’s favorite.” I purred, shooting him a wink. He evidently was not piecing together who I was because he didn’t back off the rest of the night. Trailing behind me as I mingled with old friends and made new ones. I exited the club, hours later, walking into the alleyway to teleport back to my lover waiting at home.

The man came up behind me, James, I believe is what he had called himself.

“There you are, darlin’.” He said, his voice low and territorial as he spoke to me, his steps picking up as he got closer to my body. He pressed me against the wall, pinning me to the bricks behind me.

“I thought you had run off from me, baby.” He breathed onto my neck, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. I let out a yelp and tried to push him off but that just edged him on. He wrapped his long fingers around my wrists and held them while his other hand started sliding up my dress. The whole while I was whining, screaming for him to stop and for someone to help. The moment he loosened the grip on my wrists I reached into my clutched and grabbed the ‘demon-proof’ handcuffs I always kept in case Crowley and I decided to have a surprise play session.

He looked at me in confusion as I snapped my fingers and transported us back home. I had landed him in a Devil’s Trap and he let out a growl.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’ .” I sneered, mocking the accent that affected his pet names. I pranced of to the bedroom to find Crowley reading in bed.

“Oh, back so soon my love? I was just thinking that maybe–” He stopped mid-sentence when he saw my appearance and smelt my scent. My hair was frazzled, sticking out of place from the recent groping that had occurred just minutes prior. I knew my cheeks were red with anger and embarrassment as I felt the heat rush to them.

His eyebrows furrowed tightly, “You reek.” He hissed, his eyes darkening with a predatory glint.

“I brought you a present.” I stated firmly before spinning in my heels and walking out of the room, knowing he would follow. I stopped in front of the trap that decorated the floor, watching James growl in frustration with me.

“Daddy, he hit on me.” I stated plainly, looking over my shoulder to see Crowley’s eyes go that beautiful shade of crimson I just adored. I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning into his body. “He touched me.” I said softer, “Pressed me up against a wall in an alleyway.” Crowley snarled, trying to keep his cool as he wanted to let me finish, “Daddy, he put his hand up my dress.” The reflection of white in his red eyes flickered towards me before he was taking a deep breath and walking slowly towards the demon that had dared touch what was his.

“You like disrespecting women?” Crowley sneered softly, “Think it’s a fun game? Do you know who she is? Who I am?” He demanded. James stayed quiet for a moment before answering.

“Sorry, old man, your face doesn’t ring a damn bell. God, didn’t take you for a gold digger, (Y/N)!” He said with a cackle.

Crowley got as close to the edge of the trap as he could and spoke in that low, authoritative voice that never failed to make me practically drip down my own legs.

“That’s king to you, you pathetic excuse of a demon. You dare joke about your queen? Fine, in that case–” He snapped his fingers and the room was filled his a hot, heavy, growl coming from beside him. “–boy, fetch.” The hell hound was on James before he could beg. Crowley took my hand and walked me back to our bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Crowley began pressing his lips and fingertips all over my body, claiming he needed to 'clean’ me of any evidence of James. He laid me on the silk sheets and slid my dress off softly, only to find I’d decided to go commando tonight. He let out a low groan, flickering lust-blown eyes towards my own.

“Kitten, do you have any idea how hard you’re making this?”

“Making what, Daddy?” I purred softly, bucking my hips as he ghosted the pads of his fingers over my clit.

“Teasing you, my darling.” He pressed kissed down my torso, stopping to make a dark trail of bruises down my hip before burying himself between my legs. As soon as his mouth met my dripping pussy, he let out an animalistic groan and slipped his hands under me to cup my rear, lifting my bottom half off the bed. His tongue danced intricately on my clit, getting under the small hood and making me cry out in euphoria. One of his hands left my ass to press two thick fingers in my aching pussy.

“A-ah! D-Daddy! I’m gonna…gonna come!”

“Go on, my darling, you’ve had a long night.” He returned to his initial position between my thighs and a few strokes of his tongue later I was gushing into his mouth. He kisses his way back up my body and bites my earlobe as he groans in my ear.

“I’m going to fuck your tight little pussy until you squirt again, kitten.”

His tip enters me slow, but the rest of him is stuffed inside me before I realize what’s happening. I let out a squeal as he hits me in all the right places, his cock pulling out all the way to his head before shoving balls-deep back into me with each thrust. His fingers met my clit and I was squirting on his cock once, twice, three times before he finally let himself come in hot, sticky, ropes in my wrecked pussy. He collapsed next to me and pulled me onto his heaving chest.

“You’re mine, as I am yours, my queen.”

1. Business Matters

Genre: Angst (will get worse later on)

Word Count: 1137

Thumbnail made by @1vyprincess


Jungkook’s mind was nervously wandering into the worst possible scenarios while he watched the horizon of water, lit up by the vibrant hues of the setting sun, fly beside him as the black Mercedes Maybach he had climbed into fifteen minutes ago whisked him across a bridge straddling the Han River. He hadn’t stupidly climbed into an unknown car, he was smarter than that, and the chauffeur had presented to him incredible credentials to the point that, in the moment, Jungkook assumed safety. In retrospect, he wondered how the hell the chauffeur even knew what his face looked like, where he worked, and when his shift for that day was over.

You idiot!

In his own defense, the driver was alone, and he carried about him a proper, yet calming demeanor. The man was probably in his late fifties or early sixties and was of a thin stature, so he didn’t seem dangerous at all. He just happened to be a personal worker for the landlord.

No.

‘Landlord’ wasn’t a title big enough for Kim Namjoon, the youngest ever CEO of one of the most successful businesses in South Korea, an undeniable genius who owned several housing complexes, one apartment in which Jungkook’s late uncle lived in.

Jungkook just happened to be visiting this untouchable man, in private, to “sort out business matters that his uncle left behind,” so said the driver when he picked him up.

Jungkook snorted at his own stupidity and leaned away from the window to examine the sleek chrome trim of the interior and the blemish-free leather seats. As if his alcoholic uncle who died last month from an overdose of God knows how many drugs actually knew Kim Namjoon personally. He scoffed bitterly and reflected on the disgusting excuse of a life that his uncle lived. Jungkook was glad that he ran away to live with Yoongi who only drank mildly, and he wasn’t upset in the slightest that his uncle passed away. At least the old man didn’t have to continue wasting away in drunken stupors and sluggish highs.

That disappointing ‘guardian’ of his actually knowing a CEO of anything. How could he be so quick to agree to something so profound? And due to his lack of proper judgement, he was probably being kidnapped by a psycho stalker murderer planning to have him drowned in the river by tomorrow.

Yoongi was going to kill him if he got out of this alive for being so reckless and then would more than likely end up drinking himself to death. A sinking weight of fear and regret settled in his gut and he tried to retain his composure and salvage some courage.


After another five minutes, he worked up enough thought to come up with a relatively coherent question for the driver.

“So…are you taking me to one of his office buildings or something?”

“No, young sir.”

“His personal office?”

“No.”

“A warehouse to be murdered?”

The driver laughed warmly, putting Jungkook slightly at ease. “No, Jungkook-ssi. I assure you, you’re perfectly safe and will be home and in bed before the sun wakes up.”

“So then where am I going?”

“His penthouse.”

Jungkook was shocked. “Excuse me, what?”

“The master has requested to meet you in his personal penthouse.”

“What is this? Some glorified dinner date?”

The driver chuckled again. “Of sorts…If you discuss business matters on your dinner dates, in which case I apologize to your dates.”

Jungkook smiled, his nervousness ebbing away a fraction at a time. But still, this was too surreal. There was no way this could actually be happening. If he really was going to see the actual Kim Namjoon in his actual personal penthouse, then he felt incredibly under dressed. He was clothed in ripped skinny jeans and a tattered, old, plaid jacket over a loose, plain white shirt. He could’ve at least scraped together what little money he had to buy some cheap suit jacket if he was notified ahead of time, rather than being snatched off the streets. He resumed his position leaning against the window, waiting for his impending doom by watching the enormous glass skyscrapers pass by.



In a dazed wonder, Jungkook was escorted through the luxurious lobby to the penthouse elevator of some fancy building he couldn’t remember the name of. He felt like a stray dog trailing mud and grime into a palace. Even the employees were so well dressed that Jungkook didn’t dare try to meet their eye as they respectfully bowed at his passing.

The steel doors closed, and he exhaled in relief.

“Nervous?” the driver asked, swiping an access card to activate the private elevator.

“I feel like my breath is soiling the air.”

“Don’t worry about how you look, Jungkook-ssi. The master has spoken positively about your appearance in his description of you to me.”

“Positively…I still don’t understand how he knows what I look like.”

“There are files of all the people living in his housing complexes. Again, I assure you that you are safe.”

The little light in the center of the panel turned green, and the elevator began climbing. Jungkook stared at the light as they were lifted higher and higher, his ears popping twice. He assumed that there must have been added security to Kim Namjoon’s living space, requiring some button to be personally pressed in order to grant permission to proceed, and the thought of such a distinguished figure anticipating his arrival was dizzying.

The elevator slowed to a stop, the soft ding making Jungkook’s stomach drop. The door slid open, but he stayed rooted to the spot.

This was actually happening.

“Jungkook-ssi?”

“W-what…what business matters am I attending to exactly?” He berated himself for not asking earlier.

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that question.”

Jungkook gnawed on his lip, and the elevator doors began to close. The driver stuck out his arm to hold the doors back and gave him an encouraging nod. “I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby to provide a means of transportation back to your home.”

“My uncle’s home or my home?”

The driver looked confused for a moment before assuring him that they would settle the matter when he returned to ground level. Jungkook nodded and stepped out, smoothing down his wrinkled shirt as best he could and turned back to face the chauffeur again. The cold metal doors closed in front of a comforting smile.

Jungkook had only one thought in mind when he turned to face the intimidating door into penthouse and reached for the intercom with the dark void of a camera lens staring back at him.

“I will see that driver again,” he muttered to himself and pressed the button. A few agonizing seconds later, a deep voice crackled through the speaker.


“It’s open.”


Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

I work at my schools dining hall. I just transferred to this university thats out of state this semester. So its about to be april, and with no reliable transportation i havent been able to go home to my mom in 3 months and it has really taken a toll on me. Our spring break was at the beginning of march. However, since i started working here the manager has continously told me that the dining hall will be open and that everyone will be working, so i said okay. Told my mom i cant come home cause i have to work. Come spring break, I walk into work and was told “oh we dont need you, go home for the day because its really slow here, call back in the middle of the week, we’ll probably need you then.” So i did, by that time spring break is half over, they proceeded to tell me that i wouldnt work until school is open again smh. So fast forward at the end of the march, i booked a car to go home for a day,not even the whole weekend, just all of friday, then i come back Saturday afternoon. My schedule for the past 2 months has been mon-fri. I NEVER work on weekends. The day before i left i noticed that i had to come in on saturday. The policy is that if you cant make it to work your supposed to call in at least 2 hours before the place opens (because thats when the managers get there) to let people know. So on Saturday i called well over 2 hours before countless times, but no one picked up. I left 2 messages, then contined to call, still no one picked up. Come monday, my manager calls me into her office saying that im getting a write up because of “no call, no show” i was like huh?!?! I told her i called but no one picked up. She askes me what time dis i call, i told @ 6,7,8, and 9am (the place opens at 10) she says she didn’t arrive until 9:30. she says im getting written up because i didnt directly speak to someone, leaving a message doesnt count. How is that my fault that you didn’t want to pick up the phone or wasnt on time for work.

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hello !! i was tagged by @sugaegyc & @latteyoongi & @taesberet (plus others but im so disorganized rn oops) to do various moodboard tags (but i decided on the mb from ur camera roll tag so here i am !!)

im gonna tag @kimtae95s @minyoong1 @namjoonsbby @jungkookio @jungnoir & @yoongisnugget 🌹

Cookie Monster (Loki Ficlet)

Closing the front door with a sigh I planted my forehead against the varnished wood and just leant against it. Eyes closed I took slow, deep breaths to forget the hassle of public transport. I was now home. Where my things were. I didn’t have to answer to anyone and there were my favourite foods in the fridge-freezer.

And there were cookies.


I blinked and lifted my head up, sniffing the air. I could smell freshly baked cookies in the air. “The hell?” I hadn’t made any before work, and as far as I knew Loki couldn’t bake. Maybe he did?

Leaving my bits on the whatnot I walked on through the living room to the kitchen, following that strong smell of cookies baked to perfection. Even my stomach knew it and rumbled in delight.


There on the side sat 4 wire racks COVERED in cookies. Some seemed to have chocolate chips and another dozen had smarties in them.

“I see you found the cookies,” came Loki’s voice from the kitchen table. Glancing at him and then at the cookies I asked.

“You made these?”

“Whatever gives you that idea.” His response caused me to pause, look around the kitchen slightly warily before looking back over to Loki. He seemed to be wearing very casual attire for him; a button up green shirt, black trousers and boots.

“What are you up to? You don’t just make cookies for no reason.”

“If you are going to be so suspicious I can make them all vanish, or you could be happy that they exist and enjoy the bounty that has appeared in your kitchen to coincide with your return.”


I thought over the points he was making and tried to judge if it was worth poking the prickly pride of the man any more today. That said, I didn’t have it in me to argue. “Alright. Well, I’ll thank the cookie fairy then and happily down a few before they lose that seed of warmth that makes cookies REALLY delightful.” I grabbed a small plate and swiped a couple of each onto it before sitting down in the living room. Closing my eyes to briefly inhale the heavenly smell before plucking one and nibbling at it’s divinity.

“mmmmmmm.” Oh they were JUST as I loved them. The smarties cookies had to be a little thinner than usual, drooping when held and still warm. I could have melted into that very moment of utter ecstasy and bliss.

4

Auction #1

This necklace was previously listed on my website for $165. Unfortunately, sometime when I was transporting it from my home to a fair, the last little quartz point on the right side broke off. It was silly of me not to protect the piece better, I just put it in a big box with all the other jewelry and let it jostle around. :( This piece is made with a very large high quality rainbow moonstone with double flash, three pieces of all natural Zambian citrine, and three pieces of clear quartz. It is set in oxidized copper. The pendant measures 3.3″ tall and the chain measures 20″

Starting Bid: $1 (shipping is free if you’re in the US, if you live outside the US message me for shipping quote)

Auction End time: 6:00 pm, Pacific time

Place your bids by replying to or reblogging this post. All the auctions will end starting 6:00 pm, Pacific time. I’ll message the winners right away and they must provide me with their emails. The payments are with paypal invoice. You don’t need a paypal account to pay, just a credit or debit card. The invoice gets sent to your email. You have until Monday to pay before it gets offered to the next highest bidder. I know auctions are exciting, but PLEASE do not bid if you are not willing to or can’t pay. It’s not fair to me or the other bidders! Thank you.

2

in order to transport some large-ish artworks home on my bike i had to construct this crude apparatus that makes me look like an utter dunce

an east african thot's thoughts on mississippi masala

the long history of south asians in east africa is not one brought about by colonialism; their presence is not new, nor is it necessarily foreign in the way whiteness is in the region. the indian ocean stretching out along the coast of somalia, kenya, tanzania and mozambique had cemented a trading relationship  leading to groups settling alongside our coasts and mixing and creating new dialects, fusing cultures along the way. globalisation had existed in these coasts long before western jargon had found the words to articulate this movement. gujarati and hindi found their way into somali and swahili vernacular alongside arabic linguistic influence. our languages, food, cultures often serve as reminders unto ourselves of our intersecting histories, however, this supposed blissful time was complicated by british colonialism, when tens of thousands of south asians were brought to east africa to build the railways.

my grandmother’s phone cards were spent speaking to family who had relocated to various countries along the coast. my relatives sprawled from somalia, kenya and tanzania. as an east african diasporic woman, my family and friends living in the coast gave and continue to offer me me slices of home through long distance calls about the ongoing local matters including the never-ending politics (which i usually found no interest in), who got married and the gossip that ensued, complaints about economy as well the tensions between an understood us and them

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Field of Paper Flowers

fandom: Aldnoah.Zero

Pairing: orangebat

AO3 Link

Two days after his meeting with Princess Asseylum, Inaho cancels all his appointments, gives his personal guard the day off, and makes acall. His secretaries eye him dubiously but hurry to make the adjustments;it’s been a while since he last walked off the map, but it’s a familiar enoughdrill.

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anonymous asked:

it got to 123 in Phoenix Arizona

Ok so the thing about Americans saying “oh yeah it’s hotter where I am” is that you guys are used to this heat and therefore have precautions.

For example, I bet you guys have air con everywhere, in your school, home and transport. Now me??? My house doesn’t even own a fan!! And the only places that have air con are new trains and selected stores.

I’m not saying you’re boasting like I know you’re just telling me how hot it is lol but I’m annoyed by how many Americans DMed me over night saying I should stop whining.

fragmentofmymind  asked:

Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then, you have to send this to ten of your favorite followers.

oh taryn why you gotta be like this

1. the trio of nerds already know this but i found my way home in a foreign city when all the public transport was going bananas earlier so that’s pretty neat

2. i made a movie this month that doesn’t meet my personal standards and i’m being less hard on myself than usual so #progress

3. independence 

4. i just did something low key brave and low key terrifying literally five minutes ago lmao but i did it

5. i’ve got neat glasses yo

tagged by @luminera :) 

rules:

1. Always post the rules
2. Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you
3. Write 11 questions of your own
4. Tag 11 people (or however many you want)

  • last song listened to?

listening to you’re gonna go far kid by the offspring atm 

  • last from of transport you took?

i just drove my car home from work 

  • are you an icarus metaphor or the sun?

icarus metaphor 

  • last moment that made you cry in a good or not-extremely-painful way?

i cried all through wonder woman and when the song trafalgar came on they became this weird mix of joyful and mournful, like there was this beautiful ending but the loss of innocence that came with it wasn’t quite worth it

  • last movie you watched

trolls. please don’t judge me

  • favourite way to relax?

either reading fic with music on or watching a favorite show while eating a snack 

  • favourite place you’ve been to?

killarney ireland or alyeska alaska probably 

  • where would you live if money was not a factor?

i liked limerick in ireland a lot, or boulder colorado if i wanted to be closer to home. 

  • who hugged you last?

i got like three hugs from toddlers at work this morning, but if you don’t count that my mom hugged me last night 

  • strangest thing you’ve ever seen on public transit? 

i don’t have a lot of experience with public transit tbh. but one time at a high school football game we had a guy run across the field dressed as darth vader and he’s still my idol

  • hogwarts house?

if we go by the sorting hat chats system, i’m an R1H2, but i normally just say i’m a hufflepuff. 


questions for y’all 

  1. favorite superhero? 
  2. coke or pepsi? 
  3. last tv show that you finished? 
  4. who would you want to play you in a movie adaptation of your life? 
  5. favorite movie soundtrack? 
  6. do you prefer movies or tv shows? 
  7. favorite number? 
  8. dream job? 
  9. favorite fic that you’ve ever read? 
  10. what are your top ten songs? 
  11. if you could travel back in time with guaranteed safe passage to and from that time period, where would you go? 

i’m tagging @titaniumsansa @writerstealth @what-may-be-perceived@meteorfest @puerto-rican-superman @accountmadejusttotellsomeonetoge @why-not-fabulous and @luminera (because i’m interested in your answers too) 

if any of you guys don’t want to, i understand, and if i didn’t tag anyone who does want to do these questions, i’d love to see your answers :) 

Thank-God-You’re-Alive Kiss

Stacee Phelps prompted this kiss ages ago, but since I took a break from filling prompts I sort of stopped at this one… But I picked it back up this week since I was without Internet and at an expressive arts retreat. Which was interesting, but I did want to write some!

So I filled some prompts! :D They’re going to go up over the next few days, starting with this one.

The prompt was: “they’ve been fighting all week-one of them is presumed dead and they haven’t made up-but then the one is found alive but injured and they kiss.”

**

Steve could still scarcely believe that Tony was alive. Not after the horrible week he’d had, where he’d thought for sure that Tony was dead.

And the last thing he’d told Tony was that he wasn’t cut out for relationships if he couldn’t be bothered to spend some time with Steve. The look on Tony’s face – heartbroken, stricken, and then blank as his mask came on – had haunted Steve every minute since he’d learned that Tony was dead.

He’d known going in what Tony was like with relationships; Tony had told him. And yet Steve had rubbed it into his face.

Keep reading

Tag: Songs

Tagged by @awshiba17 :D Thanks!

RULES: Answer the questions using only song titles of one artist/band (OH BOY OH BOY).

Artist/Band: The Killers (OH BOY)

What is your gender?: Just Another Girl

If you could go anywhere: Sam’s Town

Favorite Mode of Transportation: Carry Me Home

Your Best Friend: Read My Mind

Favorite Time of the Day: Goodnight, Travel Well

If your life was a TV Show: Battle Born

Relationship Status: Here With Me

Your fear: A Matter of Time

Tagging: @progirl88, @paladinfrog, @n3sh3r0x, @glorbenen, @namenloseheldin, @jam-boy, @pyrocynicaltrash, @intense-pyrocynical.