#circle: weekers

[vanilleandclove]

not a lot, just forever; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader 

in the cusp of fall and summer, fear comes knocking on your home, just before you settled on a paint color for the nursery. 

warnings: light smut, braxton hicks, preterm birth, evil turned supportive mothers, emotional wrecks (sorry doctor abbot there will be no peace yet), robby and jack get no peace, but at least they get a private wedding, reader is bilingual, patient language barrier & deportation mention word count: 4.6k notes: i’m a preemie baby- 24-weeker to be exact! take the medicality of this as outdated as possible because im damn near 20. asked my mom a whole lotta questions now she thinks i’m pregnant- i sacrifice a lot for this. this is the second to the last main part- meaning i’ll do requests on any point of this pairings relationship timeline, i just will branch out to different characters + dynamics in different stories! spanish translations at the bottom! — also i included diego’s story because my dad had something similar happen to him, NO ONE, especially a DOCTOR, should/can be able to release your immigration status without breaking HIPPA and civil laws and nulling the case in void!

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“And... there’s baby Abbot” Jenna told both you and Jack, his hand resting itself in your hair, his breathing erratic from excitement on one side the other was overwhelmed with nerves adjusting to his new found sense of pride. The gel felt warm now, as your body got used to the ultrasound check ups. 

You were just shy of approaching 23 weeks, so far no complications except two singular cases of Braxton Hicks, in albeit weird circumstances.

“Fuck baby right there” you moaned, legs spread and pinned down on your bed. Your hands gripping onto your now marital sheets. 

You and Jack decided to bite the bullet and just have a courthouse wedding- in the meantime, you wanted him to have any and all authority when it came to your medical decisions if you were unconscious and not able. It was an intimate thing to be in charge of each other's healthcare, trusting no one else- minus Dana, Bridget, Heather, and Robby- to make adequate and justified decisions.

His head found his way to your pelvis, his curls, styled and grey, tickled your skin. His tongue circling your clit as slowly as possible and hands caressing your skin gracefully. 

Your body convulsed lightly as your high neared just before your back shot up in pain, “Jack- Jack, stop” you groaned, the pain almost paralyzing you, you immediately looked down to see Jack confused, “Did my water break?”.

“I wouldn’t call cumming your water breaking- what’s wrong?” he sighed, confused at your urgency, his face coated with your cum. 

“Fuck it hurts” your voice shuddered, hand cascading to your growing belly, Jack immediately got up to get your clothes and his. “I can’t be laboring, I'm only 20 weeks” you began to panic, Jack looked at you in your eyes, engulfing the fear. 

“Okay ten minutes and lots of water” Jack told you, running out of the bedroom to go to the kitchen, leaving you confused.

“What?” you breathed.

He made his way back with his water jug and phone set to 10 minutes, “Braxton Hicks, they’re not consistent contractions so 10 minutes to see if they become consistent, they’re eased with hydration so water” he helped you get a nightgown on your body, easing your sweat with the A/C on, “Plus your cervix isn’t dilated”.

You smiled both with relief and humor, forgetting your husband was just intimately close to you. Able to breathe gracefully for the rest of the night.

You weren’t showing as much, if you pulled your scrubs tight, you’d be able to tell you were pregnant but, you opted to keep it a secret. That’s when the second scare happened.

“Diego soy Doctor L/n, voy a realizar su cirugía hoy OK mijo?” you spoke up masked and all, “Jamie alert his family, we should be done in under 30 minutes”. 

Diego was a six year old boy, his adopted parents didn’t speak a lick of spanish, therefore a lot of pain was lost in translation. It was 3 am, something in your bones sensed he had appendicitis. Sure enough, after his CT and ultrasound, a red, angry appendix stood there highlighted on the scan. Within 2 minutes of going down to alert his family, his appendix ruptured. With that every parent's nightmare came to light, luckily you eased both Diego and his parent’s worries.

“Alguna petición de música?” You asked the young boy as they put his hair cap on, “De donde eres?” you asked once again.

“Juanga!” he requested, his front teeth gone leading to a slight lisp, “Y Xochimilco” he answered.

��Ay Xochimilco, es muy hermosa allí” you smile through your mask, “Soy de Boston, mi marido es de aquí, Pittsburgh” you pat his covered hair lightly, “Voy a cuidar de ti mijo” you assured him, gaining a toothy smile from him as they administered the anesthesia.

“OK, Diego, voy a necesitar que cuentes de diez a uno” you instructed him. 

“Diez, nueve, ocho, siete…” he trailed off as he lulled to sleep.

“Jamie, can you play Juan Gabriel please?” you asked as she reached for your phone. 

You started to remove his appendix just before sepsis was able to reach into his blood, he and his family were lucky. 15 minutes later, you sent him off to post-op so you could talk to his parents.

“Diego is okay, he’s a very attentive and smart kid, he’s in post-op, mom if you want to go up there” you told them, shrugging off your surgical gown, your belly lightly showing. 

“It’s okay” she sniffled, “I just don’t know how you did that- I’ve tried so hard to learn and it’s just hard” she vented, “Thank you, so much”.

You licked your lips, “Diego is from a place called Xochimilco, it’s in Mexico City” you told her, “My husband and I vacation in Mexico every year, maybe one day, you and Diego can accompany us”. 

Her husband stood next to her, smiling at you before engulfing you into a hug. “Diego’s parents got deported two weeks before he was born, he ended up being born in Guerrero I think, his mom made sure her sister took care of him in Utah”.

“Then her sister couldn’t handle parenting him and taking care of her mom so he ended up in the system” his mom confessed to you, “We adopted him two years ago, I don’t want him to have to learn a language out of convenience for us especially when it’s rejecting his own mother tongue”. 

“Doctor L/n, we have some people downstairs looking for you” Bridget spoke up in the corridor, her eyes laced with urgency.

“Post-op is a floor above us, I’ll have my scrub nurse show you the way, we’ll speak again when Diego wakes up” you told them, nodding with a smile. 

You immediately made your way downstairs to be interrupted with two immigration officers.

“Can I help you two?” you asked, furrowed brows and all, from your peripheral you saw Jack doing charting with his glasses on. 

“We got a tip that you were operating on a noncitizen” one of them spoke up, squaring his chests up, “We need you to release any and all records of them to our custody as well as the patient”. 

You remained puzzled, “That’s a violation of HIPPA, I legally can not confirm or deny a patient being operated on if you don’t have durable power of attorney for medical care or a guardian” you told them both, “have your supervisor contact our management, I am not releasing shit to you”. 

“Are we going to have a problem ma’am?” the other spoke up, hand going to his belt that held his gun and taser. 

“I don’t know?” you quipped giving them a fake smile in return, taking a place behind Bridget’s computer, “You’re not above the constitution, neither am I, yet only one of us is upholding it” you argued, “Take your leave, we have sick people all around us and we don’t need you both to be worrying them”. 

They nodded, sparing you a deathly glance, you sighed yet again. “My name is Doctor Y/n L/n, I am the department head of trauma surgery and this entire emergency wing, if your supervisors want to arrest me they can go right ahead, hell even give them my board and union contact info” you shrugged before they went off.

You felt a slight pain in your belly as your baby kicked, “I know mama, dumbass motherfuckers” you rubbed the place your baby’s foot landed, Jack’s hand finding purchase on yours.

“Pretty sexy watching you talk back” he muttered, not too close for other’s to file an HR complaint. 

“What I do best” your fingers mingled with his, “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t”.

Within ten seconds it felt like you had another shot of Braxton Hicks. The pain riveting to your bones leading your body to tense up against your husband.

“10 minutes and water babe” he told you, before taking his leave to his patients even though he’d rather be with you and by your side. You nodded in response, taking a seat on Bridget’s desk chair.

Then came now, two weeks later, at 25 weeks, waking up in a pool of your amniotic fluid, scared shitless as Jack packed your bag and got your slippers. Salty tears streaming down your face from the pain and panic.

“Baby hold onto my arms and push up” he told you, voice raspy from the sleep that was wearing off from him, helping your shaky hands grab onto him as he led you through the house into the garage.

“I’m leaking” you whispered to him, crying more and more.

“I know baby that happens” he told you as he anchored you into your car, the truck would put too much strain from jumping in and out.

You both made it to the hospital within 10 minutes, it was 4 am, you were supposed to be on day shift today. Both Emery and Parker took your bag and wheeled you in as Jack ran off to Bridget asking her to page your OB. 

“Em get Jack please” you whimpered, vision blurring from the combination of exhaustion and tears, your hands still shaking of anxiety.

“He’s right here babe” Emery told you, rubbing your shoulders, “Jack we’re taking her up” you heard her shout.

You held Parker’s hand, not straining your body to squeeze but just enough. Feeling your contractions jolt through your body. You were scared, in pain, and filled with confusion. It was like time went by in a blur as you felt your consciousness slip away from you. 

“Parker what’s happening?” your voice was raised as you finally gained agency over yourself and body again, slightly panicking. 

“Honey you’re going to the maternity ward” she responded, holding your hand tighter.

“It’s Doctor Y/n L/n Jesus fucking christ, she’s laboring way before her due date; what the fuck do you mean you don’t have a bed! It’s an emergency! Call Jenna” Emery’s voice emerged.

You groaned as another contraction hit, looking down at your legs and seeing light pink blood trickle down. “Parker I’m bleeding” you shakily spoke up.

She looked down to your legs, squeezing your hand tighter, “It’s normal mama, your water broke” she told you, kissing the top of your head.

“Abbot said take her up to surgery, they’re doing a C-section” the nurse told Emery.

“By the time they’re fucking done there better be a damn bed” Emery responded, walking back to you and Parker.

You don’t remember anything until you reached the operating room, when Parker and Emery gowned you in front of your co-workers. Your vision increasingly blurred until you felt Jack’s cold hand to help you get on the table, putting on your hair net and grip socks, making sure to kiss you. 

“Abbot you can’t be in the room while operating” you heard Jenna’s voice amidst the protests of Jack’s voice, “I can’t trust you’ll be rash if something happens- there’s no time for an epidural, we’re doing general anesthesia”. 

“I am staying here Jenna, I’ll let you do your thing but if either of them circle the drain, I am saving my wife” he urged her. 

“Jack, baby” you spoke up, not able to move the hands that were escaping your control from the anesthesia. 

“I’m right here baby” he answered, seeing his hazel irises through the mask and goggles, “I love you”. 

You’d later find out from Jack the nightmare that ensued after your baby- your beautiful and strong daughter was taken to the NICU. 

“Jack she is hemorrhaging, get out of the room now!” Jenna yelled at him, frozen still and taking place at your head, “Ordering a blood transfusion, starting uterine massage, Abbot I can not have you in here”.

“You think I’m going to leave you to hack-“.

“You aren’t, but the second you cross the line you are out of this room”.

All he could do was nod, seeing your skin become pale and clammy, your lips separating and breathing slow. All his focus on you, you looked peaceful to the point where it scared him, the wrinkle on your forehead from your brow furrowing had eased. Your numbers were climbing, skin regaining its color, he felt at ease as you came back. 

“Baby is healthy but they have her on CPAP to help her breathe, d’wanna go see her?”.

“Can you call Collins up please, so she can be with Y/n” Jack asked, eyes remaining on you. It pained him to leave you alone, but he knew he couldn’t leave the life you just brought into the world alone either. 

Giving you a kiss on the lips before leaving and running down to the NICU, he was met with the shoulder of Robby. 

“Brother?” Michael voiced, confused, he knew you both were here, he even went to go see the baby just beforehand since he wasn’t able to go into the operating room.

With that, Jack instantly broke the rough exterior he’s been putting on for the past several hours, allowing him to cry in the arms of his best friend. He knew you both were fine, the fear of fatherhood loomed over him as he gained the new title.

Jack sobbed into Robby’s arms as if it were going to make the overall situation easier to understand and handle. His two girls were fighting to live. 

“She’s beautiful Jack” Robby told him, walking with him to the NICU.

Seeing your daughter, one that was innocent, yet going through so much pain that she couldn’t even comprehend. One that embodied all of you and all of him at the same time, he already would do anything and everything to protect his daughter. As much as he wanted to touch her, the nurses said to wait it out as they pushed her medicine, she needed to grow stronger.

He could only break. 

“I need to go back to her, she’s gonna wake up and wonder where I am” Jack sniffled, not able to look at your tiny baby. 

Robby walked him back to you, now in the post-op wing, waiting to wake up from the anesthesia. He saw you breathing even out and stagger, your eyes moving beneath your eyelids, he saw you in a position he’s seen near hundreds of people- never thinking it’d be you.

He held your hands that ran cold from the air conditioner, staring at your face as if he was studying it. Jenna had walked in and her voice fell upon deaf ears.

“Her hemorrhaging stopped quickly, she’s not completely out of the blue but there's nothing to fear anymore. She needs time and to heal Jack, I ask peds for an update on baby Abbot, Doctor Varma said she is strong, no bad reactions to medication or the steroids- they do want to keep her until her organs are fully developed” Jenna told him as you began to groggily wake up. 

“Jack?” you groaned lightly, “Ow”.

“Hey baby” he responded to you, “How are you feeling?”.

“Ow, ow” you groaned louder, “I’m sorry- I���m sorry” you repeated.

“She’s weaning off the anesthesia, it’s normal Abbot” Jenna whispered, “They’re going to take her to a room in maternity- Walsh almost smacked the receptionist”. 

Jack chuckled under his breath, reminding himself to thank Emery later. Looking back at you to see you falling back asleep from the morphine Jenna pushed through your IV. He was happy to hear your voice again, to see your eyes open for the first time in what seemed like forever. Beside you as they wheeled you to the maternity ward. 

“Okay we’re going to lift he-“ a nurse spoke up as you pulled yourself up from your elbows and onto the other bed, not a second went by for thought, Jack looked at you with both pain and awe in his eyes. 

“I’m okay” you shrugged off, “How’s the baby?”.

“In a better spot than you mom, your hemorrhage put your stats way too low for comfort, we want to keep you on observation every hour to drain” Jenna told you, “Everything else is fine love, your blood count is dangerously low however and we may need to push another transfusion. Your baby is healthy all things considered, she is a crier though so good luck”.

“We have a daughter?” you looked at Jack, tiredness encircled his eyes like a vice. He could only nod and kiss your hand, you teared up from the act, not caring for the pain that began to creep up through your incision. 

“She’s beautiful” he whispered, crying into your hands. 

“Can I see her?” you asked, looking at Jenna.

“Not today mama, I want you to regain some strength, let baby sleep as much as she can and then tomorrow morning or maybe tonight, we’ll see” Jenna told you, “I have to round, I’ll check up on you both when I can”.

You nodded, turning your attention back to Jack, “We have a baby” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes.

“Yes we do” he responded, holding your hands tighter, “How are you feeling baby- scared me back there?”.

“Good, a little sore, what happened?”.

“You started hemorrhaging” Jack recounted, “Thought you were gonna leave me baby I-“.

You started to cry as you saw his face fall, staring intensely in your eyes, “It’s okay, I’m okay” you reassured him, “We’re the bees…”.

“Oh god” he laughed through the sobs, “That protect the hive”.

“We’re going to be okay my love” you told him, “Luckily the worst part is over, OH MY GOD” you gasped towards the end.

“What?”.

“We never painted the nursery!” you sighed, “It’s just bare walls Jack”.

“Baby we have time” he chuckled as a nurse came knocking on the doorframe.

“Hey, we have some visitors but I just wanted to make sure they’re clear?”.

“I’ll go down, be right back baby” Jack kissed your forehead as he walked out, going downstairs towards the reception area.

“Jack?” a voice spoke up.

“Y/m/n?”.

“How’s my daughter?” your mother asked, “Heather called, Y/n told her she wanted to see me-“.

“Everyone says things when they’re on propofol Y/m/n- now’s not the time-“.

“Make it the time Jack, my daughter is in a hospital bed with a baby on the-“.

“Your granddaughter is upstairs in the NICU, I can show you where she is, as for Y/n, you can see her tomorrow if you feel so inclined” Jack told her.

“I flew out here Jack, immediately-“.

“When she needed you, you weren’t there” Jack started, “You shunned her off, made her feel like it was her fault, there is a reason she didn’t tell you about this, why she wanted to exclude you from this”. 

“I am her mother Jack, I will always be there for-“.

“You want to be there for her?” Jack spat lightly, “Call, don’t just call at 3 am asking for medical advice. Be there for her for once in your life, not just there to see her sister or talk about her. Be proud of her, Y/m/n, because I swear to god, I’ve seen you break her heart for years; just for you to love and be proud of her- for the damn decade I’ve been in love with your daughter. As much as I can guess you want to be there for her- just, not now”. 

Jack left your mother speechless, “I’ll stay at the house, until she comes home” she nodded, swallowing her tears. 

“Take my key” he muttered, reaching into the pocket that held your car keys, unbinding the house key. 

When he walked back to you, he saw you on your phone, puzzled by the amount of people you made Heather call for you.

“Who was it?”.

“Your mom, she’s going to the house right now” he told you, grabbing a hold of your hand as he sat down once more, “She wanted to come but-“.

“Thank you” you read all over his face the truth, “God I love you” you blurted, amazed of how well you knew Jack- how well he knew you, “Fuck our baby is an Abbot”.

“Would you want it any other way?”.

“The hyphenation would’ve been nice”. 

A moment of silence was spared between the two of you, Jack’s memory of you flashed between his eyes and mind within the span of seconds as he stared into your soul, “Do you remember the first surgery we did together?”.

“How could I not, Greene almost choked you out” you laughed.

“Scalpel” you spoke up, shaking slightly from the sheer impatience and frustration that surrounded you in the operating room. Greene was out of reach, you had wheeled this poor old woman in the OR thinking she’d have a more qualified surgeon, “Doctor Abbot what do I do?”.

It was your first year of residency, first couple months of routinely fucking Jack, hell you even stayed over at his house the night before last, your clothes still smelt like him- you were pretty sure your underwear had his cum stained on them. 

“You know what to do” he whispered to you, handing you the scalpel, “Breathe Doctor L/n”.

You took one deep breath before precisely dragging and incision into the woman’s chest to open her chest cavity, “Spreader, please”. 

As you held the woman’s heart in your hands to stimulate it, therein revealed the absorbed bullet from years past in her lungs, “Holy shit” you breathed. Investing your whole power and time to extract the foreign object, “She’s lucky it was duller than my kitchen knives”. 

“Excellent work Rambo” Jack breathed, “I’ll help close”. 

Upon saying that it was as if Jack had jinxed both of you, her heartbeat became erratic from the lack of stimulation, “Stimulate the heart Doctor Abbot, Susan go get an electrode catheter please” you spoke up, successfully packing the bullet and small wound in her lung.

“Electrode cath?”.

“She has an arrhythmia, we can correct it with a cardiac ablation” you spoke up with confidence, Susan handing you the catheter, “Close her up for me Doctor Abbot, I’ll handle the ablation”. 

When Greene saw yours and Jack’s name occupying the OR board, he made sure to give you both a lesson.

“I don’t know who is more reckless, the emergency physician attending or R1 with a bigger ego to account for this” he spoke up, fingers finding themselves soothing the pressure in his sinus, “As much as you did a good job Doctor L/n-“.

“She did a cardiac ablation and a cardiothoracic repair that not even a cardio fellow could do- under an hour and with no back-up surgeon” Jack defended you, “With all due respect Greene, she handled the fuck out of the emergency department- I couldn’t- I haven’t seen something like that- ever, not even on the field. She did a REBOA-“.

“You what?” Greene spat, worry and his paycheck benefits flashed before his eyes, “For the fucking love of god please tell you had an attending to supervise”.

“Amina had a panic attack and went home early, Doctor Greene I was the only possible-“.

“Is the patient alive?”.

“Yes, alert and talking to his wife in South 6, we’re keeping them for observation” you answered.

“Good”. 

You could finally breathe the second Greene left, “Thank you for that” you spoke up as you and Jack made your way to the nurses station.

“No problem Rambo” he answered, “To be honest, I couldn’t even do what you did down here Y/n”.

“First name basis now?”.

Jack lowered his voice before speaking up, “You had my cum in you 24 hours ago, we’re beyond a first name basis Doctor L/n”.

“Do you think we’re going to tell her how mommy fell in love with daddy or just say we automatically knew” you joked, looking at the rings that knocked together amongst your hands.

“I knew” he spoke up, “Not the first day of knowing you, you were just minuscule then, but after the first week, I knew I wanted to be with you”. 

“Hm” you breathed, “I knew when you ghosted me and I was hurt from losing the best sex of my life”. 

“Daddy was a dumbass then”. 

“Yes, he was,” you laughed, “I love you Jack Abbot”. 

“I love you Y/n L/n”.

“I come bearing good news” Heather knocked on the doorframe, “Baby Abbot is kicking, Jenna wanted me to send the news so mama can get some baby time” she smiled, “She’s gorgeous Y/n, takes after her mom- no offense Abbot”. 

“Hey! He’s a stud!” you joked, smiling at Heather, “I know you’re not talking! Robby and you swapped gum the other day”.

“Connected via the soul honey, let’s get you down there to see your baby” she grossly joked as she laid you flat; her and Jack grabbing onto your arms to help you into the wheelchair.

translations: Diego soy Doctor L/n, voy a realizar su cirugía hoy OK mijo?: Diego, I am Doctor L/n, I will be performing your surgery today- mijo is a term of endearment for "son", doesn't need to be familial Alguna petición de música?: any requests for music? De donde eres?: where are you from? Juanga: nickname for juan gabriel, mexican singer Ay Xochimilco, es muy hermosa allí. Soy de Boston, mi marido es de aquí, Pittsburgh. Voy a cuidar de ti mijo: Xochimilico, it is very beautiful over there. I am from Boston, my husband is from here, Pittsburgh. I'll take care of you Voy a necesitar que cuentes de diez a uno: I need you to count from ten to one

dividers from @cafekitsune

[shizuostrans]

Feeling Toned (from the Shizu-con! Anthology) by maya

[ronmanmob]

🌹 - If asked to define love what would your muse say?

Romance Headcanons Meme

'--Define love.'

That was Mrs B's quiet-toned answer when Ron, fresh off his 12-weeker and feeling rather peaky, mustered up the first English-based syllables he'd managed in the last 36 or so hours. Wassat? he'd asked her, reaching round her body - they were sat beside each other on her settee, Ron's head burrowed against her shoulder as she flicked through a glossy magazine her brother back in Romania had sent over - to point at the phrase that'd foxed him. Truth to God, the lot of it did. He had about two words to his name in Romanian did Ronnie, and he couldn't read the stuff for dust.

Define love

Wanda didn't press Ron to keep up a conversation once she'd answered him. She knew him and how his doctors trips played him up, so fell back into companionable quiet as her quite-often-round-our-place-now guest relaxed into her shoulder and pondered what words she'd given him. Day-to-day that sort of topic wasn't Ron's cuppa - not when it came out a glossy mag. But today, hungry for distraction from the mud in his brain and the prickles of-

..scales under your skin, Ronnie..

-THAT going through his psyche like lightning through storm clouds, it was something to latch onto; something that drew his focus outside himself and onto something real.

Love, to Ron, came in many shapes, forms and sizes. It came familial, like between he and his brothers, their mother, aunts and, though she was a memory to the twins and a passing I love you to Wise Charlie, little-big-sister Violet - lost but never forgot.

It came from friends too -- look at Wanda, bless her heart. She wasn't blood to Ron, but she'd welcomed him into her home at his most scatty and treated him like he was a card carrying Barton as far as tlc was concerned. She'd fed and settled him, sat with him quietly as she read or partook in one of the crossword books he'd stashed away on a previous visit and dissuaded him, when the urge took hold, from ripping at the site of his latest anti-psychotic jab with blunt nails. Beyond these times of extremis too, she'd never been anything but accepting and friendly to him, and it wasn't just Wanda - though hers was a special kind of care. Pat, Bastian-

..Bastian..

..Bastian..

-Darcy, Cian, Ox; they were all close-circle to Ron, and the love (for all he threatened Pat with mortal harm on the regular) was strong among the lot of them. And beyond that-

..Bastian..

-there was romantic love and all its component parts and that, in Ron's life at present, found its source and conclusion in the man whose slip of a room he found himself in on the same evening Wanda had read Define love to him from her glossy magazine. It was easily getting on for 3am when the door creaked open and shut again and Bastian, run ragged from a full day's work, shed clothes down to what was comfy and laid down beside Ron with a low groan. Blue eyes met near-black across inches in the dim light cast by the phone Ron had propped up at the head of the bed - his clock and tab-alarm keeper in one, for he had antiemetics this 12-week. But they and the nausea they helped fight away weren't important now; not with Basha here smiling that exhausted but so, so fond smile as he blink-kissed at Ron like he'd started to once Ron had explained the gesture's meaning and significance to him in difficult-head-times.

And that -- that just about defined love as a whole for Ron.

No matter its flavour or shape, it was the acceptance of the core of another, even if that core had spiky bits or confusing bits or bits that didn't make logical sense to the normal-headed. It was looking at Ron from inches away, finding his eyes looked like they'd been blackened in a beating for lack of sleep and stress, finding him dizzy, disorientated, scatty as a sack of cats, irritable and sick to his guts and still seeing in him something worth that smile, and that blink-kiss with its hidden wealth of meaning. It was--

Knowing clocked Ron in the space between heartbeats.

His expression barely shifted for it, but everything in him rang with its frequency and he tried so hard, so hard to convey that to Basha with his mind; to broadcast it somehow. But in case he missed that...in case Ron's doctors were truth tellers and he couldn't thought-share on a whim...he reached out towards Bastian; touched questing fingers to his shoulder and stroked an-

'--eight'

-onto his skin. There was no further explanation proffered, no context spoken - Ron had sent it all already, through mind, through touch. He knew already, Bastian did, that eight was upright infinity, therefore enduring eternally, therefore I'll love you 'til time dies, therefore...you...define...love.

[cantijustwish]

Hospital AU

AU where Phil is a nurse at the hospital and he works in the NICU department. Due to understaffing he also works in the nursery. Dan adopts a baby that was born prematurely and Phil just happens to be the caretaker. 

The NICU wasn’t really a place that people were happy to be in. For most parents it’s a hard time because, depending on how early their baby was born, their little child could be on it’s death bed.

Most of my co-workers were familiar to the sad atmosphere. I however, found the NICU to be a place of miracles. We all try our hardest to keep all the premature babies alive. We monitor their heart and lungs. We watch how they interact with their surroundings. We shed tears with the parents who have lost their little one.

Today was one of those days. During my shift with the twenty-two weeker, Calvin, I lost him. He was only three days old, and had a massive heart problem. His parents weren’t around, meaning that I had to call them and tell them. They didn’t take it well.

“You tried your best.” Carrie rubbed my back, trying to comfort me after Calvin was taken away. “We’ve all lost a baby during our shifts. It’s okay.”

“I agree with Carrie, Phil.” PJ gave me a small smile. “It happens. You did your best to keep him here, but God had other plans.”

I wiped my tear stained face. “I hate God then. He brings them early, He takes them away. What kind of God does that?”

They both looked down. PJ continued his work with Haisley, swaddling her so she stayed warm. Carrie left to check on her own little one.

“Perhaps you should take your break now.” PJ looked at me. “If any newcomers come in, I’ll handle it. Go eat something.”

I nodded my thanks and took off the latex gloves. The hospital had a cafe on the first floor, it’s food beating the cafeteria on the third floor. I ordered a pizza with some fries and bought a bottle of Coke. The pizzas weren’t very big, just the size of the styrofoam plate. They also gave me another plate full of fries, which made me feel a little better.

While I was finishing off my food my pager beeped. I had a newcomer to take care of, so I shoved a few fries into my mouth and threw away the mostly emptied plates. I washed my hands up to my elbows, with soap, and then sanitized my hands and arms once I got back to the NICU. Once I gloved my hands I greeted the little girl. PJ already had the monitors hooked up to her, and she had the butterfly so her oxygen tubes stayed on. The heat lamp was turned on and she was already diapered, the top folded down so it didn’t bother her umbilical cord.

I told PJ my thanks and began asking him questions about her. “How early?”

“Seven weeks.”

“Any health issues?”

“None. She was born early because she wanted to be.” He started up the bottle warmer for Haisley, so she learned how to eat with her mouth instead of a tube shoved down her throat.

“When will I met the parents?”

“Um.” He looked at the clock hanging on the wall. “In about half an hour. Her mom’s thirteen and put her up for adoption. So the adoptive parents should be here relatively soon.”

It always made me sad knowing that teens get pregnant. Some people here say it’s a shame, but they never consider how the pregnancy happens. Half the time it’s rape, the other half is due to poor sex education. I just wished people would stop being rude to teen mothers.

I gathered all the papers the parents needed to fill out and put them in a folder. I made sure the monitors were reading right, because most of the time they wiggle off and gave off this screech from hell. Which we hear all the time, so it didn’t bother us as much as it did the parents.

A tall man walked in, looking around, a bright pink NICU bracelet wrapped loosely around his left wrist. I greeted him and ask who he was looking for.

“My little girl was born an hour ago, but I don’t have a name for her yet.” The man had dark circles under his brown eyes, and a mess of curly brown hair on his head.

“Are you the one who’s adopting?”

He nodded and I smiled. I showed him the little girl that was brought here an hour ago and watched his face sadden.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked, worry thick in his voice.

“She’s doing amazing for a preemie. She’s five pounds and two ounces, which is big compared to most preemies born her age. She’s almost eighteen inches, and her health is fine. Her lungs are a bit underdeveloped, but so far that’s normal for her circumstances. We have yet to find anything else wrong, but when we do we’ll let you know.”

He gave me a small smile. “Thanks. Can I hold her yet? Is it too soon?”

I shook my head. “You can hold her, but use one hand to support her neck. You can do skin to skin if you’d like. It’ll help with her development and strengthen your bond.” I grabbed a chair for him to sit in, rolling it away from PJ’s station.

“Isn’t that something that only mothers do?” He ask as he sat down.

“Fathers can do it too. If you’d like to wait for your wife to do that first, then that’s just fine. You can just hold her.” I smiled.

His face turned pink. “I don’t have a wife. I’m single.” He muttered.

My eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

He waved it off. “I’d like to just hold her for now.”

I grabbed him a pillow to put on his lap, and I gently lifted the baby girl up, careful not to unplug anything along with not tangling the wires. I softly laid her in the man’s arms. His face lit up as he said ‘hello’.

I left him alone to have his moment with his baby and walked over to PJ.

“How’s Haisley doing?” I asked.

“Little one is a fighter. She’ll be out of here in two days.” He smiled. “How about yours? Does she have a name yet?” He looked over to the man who was softly crying with his baby in his arms.

“Not yet. I’ll have him fill out the paperwork when he’s done having this moment.” This was something I always liked watching. The NICU may be a place of hard times, but seeing the parents interact with their child made it all the better.

“He sure is a cryer.” PJ stated, his smile getting wider. “He already loves her with all his heart and it’s only been, what? Five minutes?”

I chuckled, “I should probably ask him if he’s okay.”

I walked over to him, “Things alright?”

He sniffled. “She’s just beautiful, and so, so, tiny. She’s mine, and it just blows my mind that I’m finally holding her.”

“It’s a great feeling isn’t it?” I gave him a warm smile. “Have you given her a name yet?”

He didn’t take his eyes off of her. “Abigail. Abigail Howell.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

He looked at me with his beautiful brown eyes. “Thanks.”

When my shift ended, the man handed me the papers I gave him to fill out. After looking it over I found out his name was Daniel. A common but nice name. I explained to Daniel that I would be back in the morning, and that Taylor (co-worker) would be taking my place for the night. I told him not to be afraid of asking anything, even if they sound stupid to him. That we were there to listen, take care, and answer any questions.

“How long are you going to stay here?” Curiosity getting the better of me.

Daniel looked towards his sleeping daughter in her crib. “When I see her eyes.”

I said my good-byes and left to get some much needed food and sleep.

The next morning I took care of Abigail, changing her diaper, feeding her, swaddling her, and just holding her. It’s something that’s not really encouraged for the staff, but I knew that it helped the baby grow. After a sponge bath her black hair stuck out in various places. The bath woke her up and I saw her gray eyes, which wasn’t strange at all considering that all babies are born with grayish eyes. The pigments have yet to develop but will as they grow older.

An hour after her wash, Daniel walked in, ready to spend another day with his baby girl. It made me happy that he was so eager to see her. Some adoptive parents are afraid to interact, but Daniel wanted all the time he could get.

“She’s doing great today.” I looked over the notes Taylor left. “So far she had a small case of sleep apnea, but other than that she seems healthy.”

“What’s sleep apnea?” He looked worried.

“It’s when you forget to breathe in your sleep. It’s common in early babies, so don’t worry! They’re brain just gets tired of telling them to breathe that it stops for a break. That gray box looking thing,” I pointed toward the sleep apnea monitor, “let’s us know when that happens and it makes this horrible screeching sound that wakes the baby up, and you have to push buttons to stop the screech. The sound is partly there to tell you to check on the baby, but it’s mostly there to wake them up and they start breathing again.”

He just looked at me horrified.

“Don’t worry, they grow out of it!” I reassured.

He looked less horrified and turned his attention to the screen that tells us her levels. I explained it all to Dan and told him that half the time they’re inaccurate because the wires unstick or aren’t in the right position. We know what we’re doing so we know when there is a problem.

When my shift ended, Daniel was still there. He left once to eat in the six hours I was there. He didn’t want to leave his little girl and it melted my heart. Looking at him made me realize how badly I wanted my own little family. Most of the nurses don’t want one because they get all the baby they need, but I craved more. I longed to hold my own baby, to take it home and watch it grow up. I’d love to watch it throw it’s tantrums on the store floor, while I would most likely be struggling to control my temper. To make a huge mess in the kitchen because we’d be trying to make a pb&j. Waking up five to twelve times a night to meet it’s every needs. To be so sleep deprived I’d put my phone in the fridge instead of my pocket.

I longed to be a dad.

On the third day I was put in the nursery. It’s where we put the sick newborns and almost ready preemies. I took care of twin boys who had bronchitis. I made sure their oxygen levels were normal and cleared out their noses every hour. Like most babies, they hated it, and cried up a storm.

When my shift ended I ran into Daniel in the elevator. His eye bags were darker and his hair was a brown mess. It looked like he hadn’t taken care of himself since Abigail was born.

“What floor?” He asked as the doors closed.

“First. I’m done working for the day.”

He pushed the button and together we descended.

“Would you… would you like to get a coffee together sometime?” He sheepishly asked, a slight blush on his cheeks.

Matching the same shade of pink, I said, “I’m free today and tomorrow.”

“So, do you want to go to Starbucks with me, right now?”

I smiled. “I would like that.”

When we got outside I told him that I didn’t own a car. He just waved his hand signaling that he didn’t mind me joining him in his own car. The vehicle was colder than the afternoon sun, and my butt was frozen before we got there. We didn’t talk much during the drive considering that it was only five minutes away.

I felt awkward standing in line with Daniel. We barely knew each other and I was secretly hoping that this didn’t count as a date. He was attractive, I’ll give him that, but I wasn’t totally into him. Yet.

He ordered an eggnog latte and I ordered a gingerbread latte. We both got them warm and sat down at one of the tables.

We first started out with small talk, but soon we began talking babies. He voiced his concern about his little girl and I comforted him. The more we talked the more I began to like him. He was a good parent from what I could tell, and I knew he cared deeply for Abigail. He told me about his struggle with depression and how babysitting his cousin’s son helped him out. He baby sat Percy six days out of a week for three years. He grew attached and now that he didn’t have a little baby/toddler around his flat, he grew lonely and his depression got worse. He told me that he noticed that he was better around little ones because he felt needed and loved. When he found out that his cousin’s friend was pregnant and didn’t want it, he jumped right in and said that he’d take it. He showed up to all the ultrasounds and check ups. He felt his depression get better to where he was in a good place most of the time.

“I’m so terrified of losing her.” He finished and put his head in his hands. “What do I do when it comes to taking her home? What if she’s still on oxygen and a sleep apnea monitor when she leaves? I have no idea how to take care of a premature baby, only a newborn, what if I mess up?”

“Daniel-”

“Call me Dan.”

“Dan.” I corrected. “A premature baby is no different from a newborn. They both need the same things and do the same things. Yes, there is a chance that you’ll need to have her hooked up to things when you take her home, but some newborns need that too. All babies get sick. I don’t know one that hasn’t gotten the common cold before they turn one. Dan,” I rested my hands on his wrists and gently pushed them down, “I’ve seen babies born around the twenty week mark, and make it out of the hospital, healthy. I’ve seen babies born addicted to drugs, and make it out healthy. I’ve seen babies born with heart or lung defects, and make it out healthy. Your little girl is already healthy, she’s just a bit slow. And that’s okay. It’ll take her a while to catch up. That’s normal. She’s okay.”

His beautiful chocolate brown eyes glistened. “Thanks. I needed that.” He looked down at my hands on his and I quickly pulled back. He stared at me. “Random question, and you’re welcome to decline, but would you like to go on a date tomorrow afternoon?”

My face felt hot. “Um.” I blinked hard. “I’ve never been on a date with a guy.”

He looked down. “If you’re not into me, I underst-”

“No, no, I am! You’re cute and a great parent and I’d like that very much.” I gave him a warm smile when he brought his eyes back to me.

A month went by and Dan and I were still going on dates. We weren’t quite together, but I didn’t mind. He got his little girl to take care of and doesn’t always have the time. On my days off I would visit and help him out with Abigail. After eighteen days in the NICU he got to take her home. He was a mess. A cute mess.

Abigail was still on oxygen and a sleep apnea monitor, but will be off after another month, when she was considered a full term baby. Dan wasn’t happy about that bit, but he admitted that it helped him sleep better, knowing that they’ll tell him if something was wrong.

Since she was born early, Dan wasn’t comfortable putting her in her own room. He bought a bassinet that he placed next to his bed. He was an amazing father.

Two months went by and we finally made it official that we were together. Another month and I was moved in, taking care of Abigail while Dan worked on his business in graphic design.

Abigail wasn’t my own, but I absolutely loved taking care of her. There were times where I joked, saying that I’ll steal all her love away from Dan. Dan would just smile and say, ‘In your dreams.’ When, in my dreams, we’d actually be married, both of us her parents.

“Happy Birthday, Abigail!” I tossed her in the air.

Dan leaned on the doorway. “How was your night shift?”

“The usual.” I held the one year old, staring into her hazel eyes. “I had an espresso on the way here so I’d be awake enough to celebrate.”

“Hot.” Abigail pointed towards the door. “Hot. Hot.”

We both smiled at her. ‘Hot’ was her favorite word but she didn’t know what it meant. Dan moved away from the door and welcomed me inside.

“What’s the plan.” I set her down and she waddled towards Dan who picked her up.

“Well, since it’s a friday and most of our friends are working, I’d thought we could throw her party tomorrow, but you and me can celebrate today.” He sat Abby down in her high chair and put chicken nuggets in front of her. “We both agreed on the aquarium, right?”

“Yes,” I hung up my jacket and kissed Dan’s cheek. “You can get everything else ready while I eat with Abby.”

I had the delightful breakfast of leftovers, while Abby pointed at random objects and said ‘hot’, with her mouth full of nuggets.

The entire time we were at the aquarium, Dan seemed nervous. He enjoyed every exhibit, though not with the enthusiasm of Abigail. Which also didn’t compare with mine, because PENGUINS!

When we hit the last exhibit, the one with the tunnel, Abby waddled-ran towards a turtle that was laying on the sand floor. She kept trying to jump and she shrieked with excitement. Dan and I walked over to her and just enjoyed her happiness.

“So, Phil.” Dan faced me, pulling my hands to where they were above Abby. “When I first became a parent to this early bird, I had no idea how I was going to take care of her. I was worried out of my mind, and scared. But you were the first person I met at the NICU and you were so kind, and helpful. You calmed down my fears, you gave me straight facts.” He lovingly gazed into my eyes. “Not to mention that I instantly fell in the love with you, when I saw you taking care of Abby. And when you moved in, I fell in love more, with you, with your looks, with your habits-good and bad, and it made me realize that I want to be with you forever.” He chuckled and let go of my right hand so he could grab something out of his pocket. “But I had to wait til I was sure you felt the same, so I’ve been hanging on to this for months.” He pulled out a black box and knelt down. He opened it and I felt my heart skip a beat. “Phil, will you marry me?”

I was about to say ‘yes’, but Abby was suddenly interested in the black box and tried to grab it, Dan having to move it around telling Abby ‘no’. I laughed at the sight and managed to get my ‘yes’, in.

He pulled out the ring and gave the box to Abigail to play with. He slid the ring onto my left ring finger and pecked my lips. The rest of the day was blissful and one to remember.

[ensyis]

Last but not least illustration of the #inkwash hero-series Velvér showing off. It's seldom that I draw him the way I want to. Usually we meet at my weeker drawing days and I mess him up. But here I feel like I nailed it and I really enjoyed painting the lightsituation ❤ You can pick up the original in my store. As you can get the comicbooks there, from what those characters are. =) (Link is in Bio) Actually I am bit sad that it is the last one from the series. Maybe I'll add another piece to this row. E.g. Kader would just look excellent with that golden circle. But for now that's all. Need to concentrate on the actual next book now. =D Which illustration did you like the most? #ink #analogart #traditionalart #pen #blackandwhitedrawing #gold #finetic #mage #magic #male #fantasy #fantasycomics #originalcharacter #originalart #showof #VomAnfang https://www.instagram.com/p/CAIlj8fDTfr/?igshid=wrai5jkns38y

[seoulfulcity]

July 18, 2018: Singapore Nights - Feeding Into Our Gluttonous Tendencies

"Korea University is only hosting an event for Singaporeans and no other country - that's how special you are to us". I love being Singaporean.

Wednesday, July 18, 2018: All I knew was the event had a buffet set up and Wendelyn supported my decision on crashing Singapore Night, an all-Singaporean event hosted by the university since half of the KU ISC attendees are from Singapore, even though I am not Singaporean at all. Maybe I look Malay and that's probably the closest to being Singaporean that I will ever be.

"Just don't talk or they'll hear your American accent". I guess I will be mute for the entire dinner.

Singapore Night started right after my Korean class at 6:30 at the Alumni Hall B1. I walked towards the Central Plaza and saw a group of well-dressed people, one of them was Clement, who I know was Singaporean; so I followed the group.

I was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, so I'm probably easily recognized as someone who did not get the Singapore Night email.

I entered the Media Hall with no problem, though, since they weren't check for IDs or signing anyone up. I saw Wendelyn and Florence and sat with them in table 16. They say they invited close to 250 Singaporeans to the event, and the hall was massive, holding 25 round tables fitting about 10 people each.

The stage had a banner hanging across saying "2018 KU ISC Singapore Night" with the flags of South Korea and Singapore on both ends of the stage.

Before coming to South Korea, I had never heard a Singaporean accent and Tracy told us about how unique and recognizable their accent is during our trip to Hong Kong.

I was four weeks into the summer program, and I was surrounded mostly by Singaporeans - I have not only picked up their accent, but I've picked up so much of their culture, their mannerisms, and their las and lors.

You get me, la? I'm basically Singaporean.

Since they were in their natural environment, my Singaporean friends did not bother to slow down their speaking and fix their accents for us Americans - Florence started speaking in her heaviest Singaporean accent (she usually impresses her fellow-Singaporeans with how easily she can switch accents and dialects depending on who she's talking to) and Wendelyn spoke faster than how she usually spoke. Mind you, Singaporean accent was very hard to decipher the first few days I was around them and it took quite a bit of exposure to get used to it, but the natural speed of their accents is so much more difficult to understand.

Joyce, John, and Simi's roommate, Edan, joined our table while Pong, Lina, and Jon (Jonathan) sat in table 17. When Jon arrived at the venue, he was so surprised to see me across the room and started mouthing: you're not even Singaporean! Captain Obvious, of course I'm not Singaporean.

The event started with speeches from the KU ISC director, the Singaporean ambassador to Seoul, and a Singaporean student, who Wendelyn made fun of for giving a speech in casual clothes.

His Singaporean accent and slang were also very heavy that Florence would tap my shoulder every once in a while to ask me if I needed translation.

Yes, Florence. I actually did need translation.

After the speeches, it was buffet time - but the tables were dismissed chronologically, so Florence and I were upset at the person who chose to sit at table 16. We were looking for people we knew on other tables where we can crash just so we can get food earlier.

The buffet had five long tables - one table for meat (bulgogi, chicken, pork), one for fruits (watermelon, peach, orange), one for desserts (different types of mousse and cakes), one for raw fish (raw salmon salad and different kinds of sushi and sashimi), and one for noodles and salad (pasta salads, japchae, buckwheat, different kinds of salad).

And as the true Singaporean that I was, I filled up two plates, dropped them off to my table and came back to fill up two more plates. Then, we feasted.

Thai and Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠) wanted to join in and we tried convincing them to, but Thai was not confident enough that he could pass up as a Singaporean; not Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠) though, he wanted food and he will get food.

A second round of food was delivered and all five of the long tables were filled up once again. We told Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠) to hurry before people finish the food and he arrived in no time. He sat with us and also feasted.

Then, we were asked to do a group picture and Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠) and I were forced to sit at the very front, knowing that we both don't look Singaporean at all.

That was it. This was the story on how Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠) and I became Singaporeans.

See the official Korea University Singapore Night video here: 2018 ISC Singapore Night

Before separating for the night, we stopped by a nearby clothing store and went eye shopping (look at me picking up some Korean slang).

Salli and I met up right after and we wanted to go drinking with Jon, Lina, and Pong. They told us to meet at the barbeque place we ate at after orientation, but upon getting there, we found out that the barbeque place closed down!

I was very disappointed because the ahjumma (아줌마) serving the place knew who I was and the meat was actually very delicious - plus it holds a special place since that was the first restaurant our friend circle ate at as a group.

So, Salli and I went to Chunja (춘자) and drank there instead. We talked about boys, especially the one who I met at the airport when I landed in Seoul to start the program - Minjae (민재). Salli has a huge crush on Minjae (민재) and we wanted to drink with him that night, so I invited him over.

He said he was with his club at that moment but he will stop by in a bit.

We excitedly ordered another bottle of soju and maekju (beer/맥주). Joyce stopped by for a few minutes to chug half a bottle and was interested in seeing Minjae (민재), but it was already past midnight so she left.

Right after Joyce left, Minjae (민재) came over to have a drink with us and asked where Joyce went. Ha! The irony.

Minjae (민재) brought his club mates down to Chunja (춘자) and sat a few tables across from me and Salli. They both exchanged Kakao IDs before Minjae (민재) went back to his table and Salli and I headed out to a coin noraebang (코인 노래방) to sing Korean songs and changing the words "you" and "baby" to Minjae's (민재의) name.

Thursday, July 19, 2018: It was graduation night for the four-weekers and Sophie would not give me any details because she was scared we would do something stupid. She wasn't wrong though.

Early in the morning, basically around noon, Sophie needed a body wash so I had to meet up with her in my pajamas and my bed hair to give it to her - with my luck, Ian and Carolina joined and had a conversation with us. Ian mentioned how he was visiting Seodaemun Prison later today and I wanted to go, but I had a class from 4:50 PM, which makes it impossible to stay and explore the prison long enough for me to appreciate its history. So, I passed up on that one.

It was already midday and I haven't eaten yet so I asked Matt to come with me to the Chicken Steak place so he could try it, which he agreed to. After the bibimbap (비빔밥) incident, he had been very wary of the spicy food he was eating, but it was unavoidable. Matt got the spiciest chicken in the menu, while I got the good 'ole chicken steak with barbeque sauce.

Sophie joined in later, but she couldn't eat any of our food since they were both spicy.

After Chicken Steak, I got a haircut at the usual place called I'Hair, which is just a few minutes walk from the Frontier stairs. The booze cruise was going to be tomorrow and my hair is becoming long - long enough that it takes more than five minutes for it to dry. I'Hair is out go-to haircut place since there's an English-speaking worker from 10 AM to 5 PM, and all of the hairdressers are very young, hip, and stylish.

By young, hip, and stylish - I mean it in Korean terms because their talent revolves around making Korean hair look good. I am not Korean, so we might be facing a problem here.

My hairdresser was confused when I asked him to spike up the front of my hair, since my hairline does not let me do any other haircut. He was asking me which side I want my hair to be combed over - typical Korean look - but I kept telling him, via Google translate, to do it as the way I described it to him earlier. Poor guy, he was probably very scared of the English interaction.

The English-speaking worker who was responsible for Valentino's haircut was busy, and I would glance at her every so often to see when she finishes with her client. She asked Valentino if he was interested in getting a new haircut, rather than the usual "short on the side and trim the top of my hair" haircut; since Valentino was up for it, she gave him a perm.

During class, our Korean professor noticed Darren (Minho/민호) and I got a haircut and we actually found out we both got it cut in I'Hair - we just missed each other. After class, I messaged Ian for the graduation information to surprise Sophie and he gave me the time and location.

Woodang Hall, sixth floor - the same lecture hall where we did our Korean placement exam at. Thai and I met up and headed to the sixth floor and were greeted by four long tables of food - madeleines, sandwiches, kimbap, mousse, etc. I dove right in.

Thai texted the group chat to come over since there were free food, and both Wendelyn and Florence (who were already on the way to see Sophie’s graduation) arrived.

Surprisingly, Minjae (민재) was the one overseeing the food when we arrived so we had a small talk before going into the lecture hall, just in time for the graduates to toss their graduation cap into the air.

It makes me emotional how the four-weekers were already graduating, knowing that we six-weekers only had two more weeks until we take our flights back to our home countries and be separated from each other.

We formed an amazing bond the last few weeks, and I really wished that we would have stayed just a little bit longer, but life just didn't work that way. We have responsibilities to go back to and life is stagnant and stress-free while we are here in Seoul.

After the graduation, everybody went outside the lecture hall to take pictures and snack on the food prepared. Sophie did not want to take pictures with us because she was embarrassed, so we decided to have her, the graduate, take our picture.

I met Thai's roommate Shannon for the first time that day, and I got so angry that Thai didn't introduce me to him earlier. He was very handsome.

Matt arrived at the lecture hall for the free food, but we were all about to leave to meet with Davy at a barbeque place by McDonald's called Migak (미가가) but since I was already full from the graduation food, I decided to just tag along and socialize.

On our way there, we found Jon eating at a restaurant and tried to get his attention, but we didn't see Joyce was actually in front of the place and she thought we were waving at her.

Thai sent me the pictures I took of him and Shannon to apologize for not introducing us to each other earlier, but I was still upset. He was leaving back to Singapore on Saturday, so my chances of getting to know him were basically gone.

After the barbeque, Sophie went back to the dorm and we met with Valentino, Cara, Leonard, Minki-hyung (민기형), Hyunki-hyung (형기형) and Erin and wanted to drink at Chunja (춘자), but the bar was already very packed and could not accommodate 12 people.

Salli and Carolina's group also had to find a different bar since their group was big enough to not be accommodated at the same bar.

So, Valentino and Cara led us to Y Beer and Grill (Youngcheol Burger/영철버거), just across the closed-down barbeque place Salli and I went to the night before. Minki-hyung (민기형) actually just came back from his trip to Hong Kong. He arrived during Sophie's graduation, but it takes about two hours to get from Incheon International Airport to Anam, so he didn't join us until 11 PM.

Nobody was up to drink soju that night, but I was craving my nightly dose of the alcohol, so I met up with Darren, Angela, Peter, and Cindy at Osaka Blues and had a few shots of soju before sending a drunk-Cindy back to Anam Global House. Thai messaged me while I was still at Osaka Blues that he was at the CU store down CJ International having cup ramen with Shannon, and I wanted to sprint up the steep CJ International hill. Too bad I was in the middle of Anam, a good 10-15-minute walk to the CU store, so I had to pass up on the opportunity.

After we dropped Cindy at her dorm, we ended up getting ice cream at the same CU store where Thai and Shannon were, but the tables in the convenience store were already empty. Darren was sweet enough to pay for my ice cream since I helped him walk Peter up that one night - it was not necessary but I appreciated the nice gesture.

After the quick snack, Darren, Angela, Peter, and I went back to Anam to go to a coin noraebang (코인 노래방) and stayed there for three hours, until 5 AM, before we headed back to the same CU store to munch on kimbap for breakfast.

We bid farewell to each other and agreed to meet at 3 PM later in the day for the booze cruise. The booze cruise on Friday is on a separate blog.

Saturday, July 21, 2018: We didn't get home until around 6 AM on Friday so I slept in the whole day. My phone cord was so bent from the cruise so it wasn't working anymore, and now both my phone and portable charger were dying - I had to make a stop at Daiso to buy an emergency cord quickly.

I woke up at 3 PM, just to be greeted by a 101-degree heat outside according to my weather app.

Thai messaged me that his roommate, Shannon, already packed up and left and he had an entire room to himself for the rest of the summer. Hyunjic-oppa (현직오빠) was planning to move in with Thai on Tuesday, and Thai was still trying to apologize for not introducing me to Shannon earlier in the summer so he was offering me his bed to sleep in.

Oh, Thai, you're a special human

Valentino, Sophie, Jordan, Florence, Wendelyn, Matt, and Joyce were at an Italian restaurant near Gong Cha in Anam called Moirita (모이리타); it had been more than two months since I had pasta, so I got spaghetti alla carbonara and enjoyed it until the last noodle.

After the Italian meal, we stopped by at Sulbing (설빙), the same Korean dessert we had just a week ago. Minki-hyung (민기형) joined me, Sophie, Jordan, and Valentino and had three showflakes: melon, Oreo, and chocolate cereal.

Thai went hiking up the Bukhansan from 8 am to about 8 PM and he got lost. He was actually deciding to sleep in the mountains until daylight; but a good Korean man found him and drove him back to Anam with little English spoken.

So, Joyce and I met up with him at McDonald's to see if he was okay and went out to a nearby barbeque place to eat.

Minki-hyung (민기형) was out drunk, spamming all three group chats (drinking chat, ISC Group 3 chat, and the cruise chat) asking who wanted to drink more soju and go clubbing with him. He agreed to meet with Joyce, Thai, and me.

Before Minki-hyung (민기형) arrived, the three of us settled with a barbeque place, which was written in all Korean and each meat fed only one person with a price ranging ₩17,000 to ₩20,000. We wanted to leave but the owners already set up all the side dishes (banchan/반찬) for us; so, we waited until Minki-hyung (민기형) arrived and got us out from the place.

"Don't go there, it's expensive", he said with his thicker-than-normal-Korean-accent-that-seemed-to-get-worse-whenever-he's-drunk.

He brought us to an all-you-can-eat buffet with unlimited samgyeopsal (삼겹살) for ₩10,000 and unlimited alcohol for ₩5,000.

Matt, Florence, and Sophie joined in after. Joyce needed to ask the workers for extra plates for Matt, Florence, and Sophie so she asked us what was the Korean word for plate (jeobshi/접시), but I jokingly and confidently told her it was plateu, plate in a Korean accent.

Joyce once went to a milk tea shop with her friend and wanted to order a banana milk tea, so she said it in her casual Singaporean accent - the worker taking her order did not understand what she saying, despite multiple attempts of saying it as clearly as possible.

Her friend stepped in and said banana milkeu tea in a Korean accent, which the worker understood perfectly. That was then, when Joyce realized to accommodate the pronunciation of English words in Korean so communication would be easier.

So, Joyce went up to the worker to ask for the extra plates.

“Plateu juseyo” (Plates, please), she attempted to speak with a Korean accent with the worker, which she was greeted with mere confusion. Joyce repeated the phrase I taught her, but to no avail. The worker did not understand she was asking for plates.

I started laughing so loudly at Joyce from across the table when she finally realized I was pranking her, so she went up to Minki-hyung (민기형) and had him communicate her needs for extra plates.

I never let this moment die down for the rest of our program. Poor Joyce.

I left the dinner early and met up at Makgeolli House (막걸리딥) just down the street from the unlimited samgyeopsal (삼겹살) with Darren, Peter, and Angela. Darren had to leave home early because he was getting a headache from not having enough sleep recently. Sophie, Florence, Matt, and Minki-hyung (민기형) caught up with us right when we were about to leave. Peter, Matt, and I had another round of soju at the 7/11 next to Makgeolli House (막걸리집) and decided to go to a noraebang (노래방) and continue the night. I told Florence that Peter could be her competition since both of them are amazing karaoke singers. Minki-hyung (민기형) called it a night and went back to his place.

On our way to the coin noraebang (코인노래방) we frequent, we bumped into Jon and Lina who were smoking outside the coin noraebang (코인노래방) next to us, just under Bangkok Express.

So, Sophie, Peter, Angela, Florence, Wendelyn, Matt, and I sang until 2:30 AM. Since Sophie just moved out of her dorm, she needed to leave early to take a taxi to her hotel by Bomun Station, just a station away from Anam Station, or a five-minute taxi ride. Angela followed Sophie and went back to the dorm.

We decided to crash Jon and Lina's noraebang (노래방) and had Pong and two other Singaporeans in the room; we realized with the ten people in the room, seven were Singaporean and three of us (Matt, Peter, and I) were Americans. The Singaporeans sang their national anthem, Majulah Singapura, then recited the Singapore National Pledge, and then yelled out Kit Chan's Home, which was the first song released in the yearly Singapore's National Day Parade. Each year during the parade, Singapore releases a national song for the year, and Home is the most iconic and celebrated on.

Of course, the Americans fought back and ended the night with Miley Cyrus's Party in the USA.

Side note: once again, there are so many Singaporeans. Every night out is basically Singapore Night for me here.

We left the karaoke and still did not want to go to sleep, so we bought four sojus and climbed up the Frontier stairs with cicadas songs echoing through the night.

The cicadas just came out of nowhere recently, and coming from Los Angeles where all we have are bees and crickets, the cicada songs sound terrifying.

Matt, Peter, Wendelyn, Florence, Jon, Lina, Pong, and I played card games outside Frontier House and munched on chips. Valentino came down for a brief moment to chug some soju and went back to bed. The loser of the game was asked to buy more sojus and snacks, which ended up being Matt.

By the time the sun was already rising, we had ten soju bottles rolling around the floor. Someone from Anam Hall, the building across Frontier House, came down to tell us to be quiet since we were getting loud in Korean.

We stayed outside until 5:30 and I walked Peter back to his room so I could see his roommate, Grant, since I have a small crush on him. Peter agreed that I could get him drunk just so I could keep walking him back and interact with Grant. My friends are good people.

That was it for week four! I am currently in week five and I could already taste the crisp Los Angeles air (no, I don't miss Los Angeles at all). Sophie is flying back to Austria on Saturday, which I will be in Busan so I will miss dropping her off at the airport.

Our circle is slowly ending, and it's heartbreaking.

But since the four-weekers are leaving, my friends' roommates are also leaving (e.g. Thai and Matt’s), so we have more sleepover opportunities these last few days! How exciting! Until then!

고마워요, Chris 「크리스」

P.S. I flew to Seoul to experience Korean culture, but I believe I'm leaving the city as a Singaporean.

[vlcarlomagno]

Weekend Beach Festival se despide con 140.000 asistentes y la promesa de volver en 2019.

Ya se puede decir que el Weekend Beach Festival está consolidado, y es que, en su quinto año, el festival supera el ranking de los festivales de verano de primera línea y sube al podium de los grandes eventos musicales españoles.

Asegurando ya que habrá sexta edición, tanto por la organización como por el Ayuntamiento de Vélez-Málaga y la Tenencia de Alcaldía de Torre del Mar, Weekend Beach ha hecho vibrar este año a 140.000 ”weekers” llegados desde diferentes ciudades de España y también extranjeros veraneantes en la costa malagueña.

Bunbury, Jimmy Cliff y Hot Since 82 coronan la última noche de Weekendbeach 2018, situando al festival como la apuesta ecléctica con más fuerza del circuito nacional de festivales.

EL sábado por la noche, se celebró el último día de cuatro intensas jornadas musicales a orillas del mar, el ambiente más especial, y un público heterogéneo y totalmente entregado en vivir una auténtica experiencia y escuchar en directo a los 92 grupos y djs de diferentes estilos.

La partida se jugó doble y a dos ases por manga, por un lado la elegancia de uno de nuestros rockeros universales, Bunbury que se adueñó de inmediato del escenario nada más aterrizar en el Escenario Brugal hacia las 22h.

Dosificando canciones de su último trabajo “Expectativas” regaló una de las actuaciones más impactantes de la noche no olvidándose de sus viejas e inolvidables canciones de Héroes del Silencio.

De otro lado, otro de los conciertos más esperados de la noche, el del histórico Jimmy Cliff que a sus más de setenta años brilló en el Escenario Torremar Victoria con hits como “Reggae night” y “Hakuna Matata”.

Dorian también destacaron con canciones actuales de su nuevo disco junto a veteranos como Celtas Cortos y Avalanch dejando a los amantes del hip hop disfrutar a última hora de la madrugada con la actuaciones de SFDK y Nach.

Asian Dub Foundation ofrecieron uno de los directos más sobresalientes del sábado. El Escenario Sunrise no paró de girar con las sesiones de la magnitud de Hot Since 82 y Jackmaster, entre otros.

Un aniversario que empezaba con fuerza el miércoles 4 de julio. Los weekers llegaron con energía para disfrutar de una edición muy especial de Weekend Beach Festival Torre del Mar.

El quinto cumpleaños comenzaba con la Fiesta de Bienvenida que contó con actuaciones con un sonido totalmente fresco como el directo de Iseo & The Dodosound with the Mousehunter.

Los malagueños Danza Invisible repasaron su trayectoria de éxitos en su treinta y cinco años de trayectoria y triunfaron en su tierra junto al soundsystem de Fyahbwoy & Forward Ever Band y el sonido festivo de La Pegatina, que volvieron a incendiar el Escenario Weekend Brugal.

La jornada del jueves 5 de julio Weekend Beach Festival Torre del Mar vivió su primer día grande. Con una gran asistencia de público, el punto álgido de la noche llegó hacia las 23.30h con la actuación de los americanos THE OFFSPRING que nada más subirse al Brugal se apoderaron del escenario y cautivaron a sus miles de seguidores con canciones tan conocidas como “Pretty Fly”, “Get a job”, “All I want” y “Want you bad”.

La Raíz y el cuadro en formato escénico “flamenco underground” de Juanito Makandé también se llevaron a buena parte del público a su terreno en el Escenario Victoria con su espectáculo cargado de composiciones cercanas, con ritmo, ironía y crítica social.

Los jamaicanos Inner Circle, historia viva del reggae jamaicano. The Toy Dolls dejaron muy claro que la actitud es la clave de todo ofreciendo uno de los conciertos más divertidos de la noche. Las sesiones de Loco Dice y Paco Osuna lideraron la jornada nocturna en el Sunrise.

La tercera jornada de Weekend Beach Festival Torre del Mar comenzaba a reunir público ya en las actuaciones de Sidecars, con su sonido independiente, El Canijo de Jerez o el característico y cercano directo de El Langui.

El festival llegó a su primer lleno con la actuación de los madrileños IZAL, que metieron al público en el bolsillo. La formación La M.O.D.A., de plena actualidad con su reciente nuevo disco, destacaron con su enérgica y cuidada puesta en escena que fascinó a los “weekers”.

La noche del viernes llegó a su punto álgido con la irrupción en el escenario de una de las estrellas de la edición, David Guetta. Una actuación muy ansiada que tomó completamente el escenario Weekend Brugal con un montaje espectacular con una iluminación y efectos brillantes. El dj y productor francés transformó Weekend Beach en una pista de baile delirante.

En el Escenario Sunrise el directo de Vitalic fue una de las actuaciones mas imponentes visualmente. El techno de Adam Beyer y Alan Fitzpatrick fueron una apuesta ganadora en el escenario donde también destacó Horacio Cruz y Matador.

En el escenario Torremar Victoria también marcaron la noche la fuerza de la jerezana Mala Rodríguez o la actitud de la nueva generación del hip hop español de Natos y Waor.

La organización destaca el ejemplar comportamiento de los weekers que hacen posible que cada año el festival se haga realidad.

Más de 38.000 abonos diarios vendidos, y los 26.000 asistentes en la fiesta de bienvenida junto con las entradas vendidas por día son las cifras con las que cierra el festival malagueño, que cada año arranca la programación cultural del verano y afianza su propuesta a las orillas de las playas de Torre del Mar.

..

Bunbury

CJ Jeff

David Getta

Dorian

Hot Since 82

Inner Circle

Jimmy Cliff

Juanito Makande

Neuman

La MODA

SFDK

Iseo

Weekend Beach Festival se despide con 140.000 asistentes y la promesa de volver en 2019. Weekend Beach Festival se despide con 140.000 asistentes y la promesa de volver en 2019.

[itsworn]

Surviving Drag Week: How to Keep It All Together

HOT ROD Drag Week 2017, powered by Dodge and presented by Gear Vendors Overdrive

As someone new to the event, the thing that impressed me the most is how Drag Week is as much a battle of longevity as it is about speed and quickness. In some respects, the drag racing is the easy part. The real challenge is surviving the drive between the tracks. On the track, the engine is doing what it is designed to do: make power at relatively high rpm for a very short period of time. Take that same engine on a five-day, 1,000-mile road trip, and things get interesting.

For an engine to be fast on the track and survive the street driving of Drag Week, several compromises must be made. Generally, you either sacrifice some ultimate power at the track for streetability or make the engine configurable for both street and track performance. For example, Jim Forbes told us he built his engine around a relatively small cam. With less than 0.600-inch valve lift, his big-block Chevy isn’t beating up the lifters and rocker arms because he doesn’t need a ton of valvespring pressure to keep the valves from floating. He’s relying on boost from the supercharger to make up for a lack of airflow that a higher-lift cam would offer. “[It] works great. Unless, of course, someone brings a really quick car, like they did this year, and I only get Second Place!” he says.

We recently followed the build of Jeff Lutz’s new 1957 Chevy race car in Car Craft. Though Jeff was unable to compete in Drag Week this year, the ’57 was purpose-built for Drag Week and illustrates how a car can be made configurable. The radiator and fan are built on a perch. He removes them at the track and replaces them with a small fuel cell for running methanol when making passes at the track. The cooling nature of the alcohol-based fuel eliminates the need for a cooling system at the track; the engine barely gets hot at the end of the run. For street driving, Jeff has a gasoline fuel cell in the trunk and a dedicated ECM programmed to run on gasoline. He removes the magneto and plugs in an HEI distributor. “The mag is unnecessary and too hot for street driving,” he says. Even then, there was some trial and error. “We burned up a few ignition modules,” Jeff says, adding that it took a bit of head-scratching to realize that the car’s 16-volt electrical system was the culprit. Once they stepped the power going into the distributor down to 12 volts, they haven’t had any more ignition problems. In another example of configurability, overall winner Dave Schroeder has two different sets of rocker arms: one set for the track and a second lower-ratio set for street driving.

These examples illustrate the different approaches to building a car capable of surviving Drag Week. In terms of hard parts, there are several constants that all the competitors we spoke with agreed on: bushed lifters, steel rocker arms, an adequate supply of oil to the valvetrain, and the critical need to check lash—and even valvespring pressure—throughout the week.

Multiyear Drag Week competitor Rich Guido explains why checking valve lash is a necessary step in preventative maintenance, relating a story where he diagnosed a potential valvetrain failure through a consistent change in one particular cylinder’s valve lash. “One valve was consistently off by 0.003 inch. That’s not a large amount, but that material went somewhere,” he says. He replaced all the lifters, thinking that they were starting to go bad. It turns out the tip of that one valve had started to mushroom, and since then, he runs lash caps on the valves and hasn’t worn out a valve stem since.

Other competitors concur. Checking lash every day can indicate if a lifter or pushrod is starting to fail. Many competitors like Rich and Matt Blasco carry valvespring testing tools with them and will check the spring rate daily, noting that any changes are a solid indicator of a spring about to fail. Matt and Rich also insist on bushed roller lifters and rocker arms, rather than needle bearings, which scatter when they fail and can completely destroy the engine. They recommend steel rocker arms, rather than aluminum, which don’t stand up to street driving at the valvespring pressures Drag Week competitors are often running.

Matt stressed the importance of proper oiling of the valvetrain. “Pushrod oiling is your friend, and the more [oil] you can get there, the better,” he says. His Hemi has valvespring rates of 400 pounds on the seat and 950 pounds open pressure, and those springs will generate a lot of heat running down the road. He uses T&D rocker arms with an EDM-drilled hole that shoots a jet of oil on the springs to cool them, in addition to the through-the-pushrod oiling system fed directly from the engine block’s main oil gallery. He closely monitors oil pressure and changes the oil when he sees about a consistent 10-psi drop in oil pressure, noting that in his experience, the heat from street driving will cause the oil to start to break down in as little as two days during competition. One more critical component of the oiling system is an accumulator. Matt says, “If your engine dies at full song, the turbos are still spinning 50,000-plus rpm with no oil.” You can see why an accumulator would be good insurance.

Finally, an interesting point Rich makes is how helpful it is to have a car that’s quiet enough to hear problems developing within the engine. Open exhaust or turndowns under the car may make power at the track, but they physically beat you up on the street and drown out early signs of engine failure. An overdrive transmission really helps here, too. Rich runs a T56 Magnum behind the 517-inch Pontiac engine in his GTO. An automatic overdrive or Gear Vendors unit not only quiets the car down at cruising speeds but the slower engine rpm helps save the valvetrain. These criteria illustrate the challenges of building a car to survive Drag Week. You need a quiet car with top-shelf valvetrain and oil-system components that cruises on the highway as effortlessly as it rockets down the dragstrip. Good luck with that!

Matt Blasco won the Pro Street Power-Adder class and was the Fastest Mopar/Dodge with his 1972 Dart.

Jeff Lutz makes an exhibition pass on Drag Week. His 1957 Chevy was purpose-built for Drag Week and is configurable to run at the track and on the street.

Rich Guido’s 517ci Pontiac makes 1,000 hp at the wheels under boost. He uses PSI circle-track valvesprings with 530 pounds of open pressure. On the track, he shifts at 6,900 rpm, but the T56 Magnum lets him cruise down the highway at less than 2,500 rpm.

Among the parts Rich carries with him on Drag Week are a spare transmission, spare supercharger pulleys, and maintenance tools.

All the Drag Weekers we spoke with recommend valvespring testing tools. Identifying a problem early is key to survival.

The post Surviving Drag Week: How to Keep It All Together appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/surviving-drag-week-keep-together/ via IFTTT

[itsworn]

Dan Nissen and the Expat Forest Service “Week Wagon” take Spirit of Drag Week

HOT ROD Drag Week 2017, powered by Dodge and presented by Gear Vendors Overdrive

Strictly speaking, the Spirit of Drag Week award is defined as someone who “most demonstrates a do-or-die attitude while helping others, showing good sportsmanship, and spreading the good will of Drag Week,” and this year we’re heavy on the latter. One of our favorite components of Drag Week is the international racing family that has developed over the past 13 years. These folk will do anything for each other across any number of borders and postal codes, and this year’s winner emphasizes how far that good will can spread.

“Montana” Dan Nissen is known for his big-block Chevrolet C20 pickup nearly as well as his selflessness in previous Drag Weeks, and that was apparent for 2017’s race when he introduced the “Week Wagon,” a 1983 Chevrolet Malibu destined for a greater cause—he didn’t know exactly what yet, but the ultimate idea was to auction the rolling chassis toward charity.

This ex–U.S. Forest Service Malibu wagon was actually the second purchase of Dan’s, as the first ended up being better suited to rusting back into the earth than racing. His brother, Mike, found the car listed on Pocatello, Idaho’s Craigslist for $350, and they were able to negotiate the former V6 Malibu wagon to $250 before dragging it back home to Havre, Montana. Even through the patina, the original Forest Service livery was still visible, so the car came with a built-in theme while fulfilling the beater-muscle-car look he liked in Aussie Harry Haig’s “Stevo” Chevelle, the orange-and-rust rapscallion with the turbos out the hood that ran Drag Week the past two years.

The idea was to build it low-buck with spare parts, with the venerable Jeep quick-ratio box and rag jointless steering-shaft upgrades complementing a front-end rebuild with new Speedway Motors control arms and refreshed steering assembly. Out back, Trick Chassis tubular links with heim joints replace the stamped-steel factory arms, which connect to a braced Ford 9-inch that spins 3.50 gears with a spool. Comp Engineering shocks serve duty on all four corners.

Progress started slowly on the wagon, however. Dan’s day job (and often night job) is working on high-voltage power lines as a lineman. It’s an unpredictable gig that often requires him to venture out into the Montana tundra in a bucket truck to save the day, and the conditions in the summer of 2016 meant that the wagon wasn’t going to make it to Drag Week that year. Instead, Dan rode along with Richard Guido, one of his close friends inside and out of Drag Week. Richard is known for his subtly belligerent, stick-shifted 1965 GTO as much as his relentlessly positive attitude (his brother, Bob, is a recipient of the Spirit of Drag Week award—it runs in the family). He’d take the six-hour trip from just north of Calgary, Alberta, to work on the wagon in Montana periodically.

Naturally, things still came to a crunch, and it was again Richard (along with his father) who came down just two weeks before they had to be at tech to help slam the last bits of the Week Wagon together, along with the help of fellow Canadians PJ Nadeau, Matt Blasco, and Dillon Merkl. The refreshed, 496ci big-block Chevy out of his C20 was buttoned up, and the last details for the livery—designed by Jeff Greer of Laser Works of Grand Island, Nebraska, and cut by Dylan Bergos at A Fine Line Auto Body in Malta, Montana—were put together, which playfully mocked Smokey Bear and the U.S. Forest Service. The Week Wagon was given a few miles worth of testing before being packed on a trailer for Cordova, Illinois.

Things looked promising on Day 1 of Drag Week. The wagon had repeated its 10.97 from the previous day’s test-’n’-tune, and Dan was just tinkering with the jetting. However, less than 30 miles into the day’s drive, the Week Wagon’s TH350 began to puke fluid. At first, they resealed the dipstick hoping that would keep the ship from sinking, but it began leaking again as the convoy made it to the first checkpoint at the Blue Moonlight Drive-In. This time, it was clear that the cooler lines were leaking at the transmission fittings, but no one had a wrench that could get into the space. Thankfully for Dan, a local plumber saw his plight and ran 16 miles round trip to grab a set of crowfoot wenches to tighten the fittings. With everything holding tight, the convoy made it to the next hotel by midnight. By Tuesday, things were looking up, with the Week Wagon churning out a respectable 11.03 before winding down the route from Madison to Byron, Illinois, with little drama.

Drag Week’s masochistic reality returned on Wednesday as the mystery TH350’s Second gear decided it was no longer a part of this world, resulting in a beleaguered 12.24 at Byron as the car shifted “like a Powerglide,” according to Dan, with the manual valvebody. Drag Weeker Greg Hurlbutt became a dispatcher for parts and help though social media, and he quickly lined Dan up with Michael and Phillip Roemer of Holeshot Parts and Performance in Waukegan, Illinois, to open up a two-post lift while simultaneously locating a spare transmission to throw in – these are the same guys who worked together to get Spirit of Drag Week 2017 winner Jeff Oppenheim’s new hood after his fiberglass unit melted when his El Camino caught fire. The Roemers essentially handed Dan and Greg the key to the shop that night, and the crew (consisting of Greg, Jeff, Phillip, Travis Ray, and Steve Haefner) worked with their Canadian cohorts to replace the temperamental TH350 that evening, making it the hotel before 10 pm.

By the time they got to Union Grove on Thursday morning, Dan knew the second transmission was toasty, but at least it had all three gears. Plus, they were back in the low-11s, just a few tenths of Monday’s baby-faced runs; by Drag Week standards, things were certainly looking up for the Week Wagon. Dan had one more drive to Cordova before making his final pass.

After a real night’s meal between Dan and his Canadian compadres, Friday was like a homecoming for the mint-green machine, with one last pass to complete Drag Week before auctioning the car to its new owner. The Week Wagon’s cause is supporting someone who’s a part of the Drag Week family—without having raced it. Scott Taylor, an Australian magazine editor who writes for Street Machine (and hosts Drag Challenge, a Down Under version of our hell week), is a good friend of the HRM staff and Drag Week racers after having covered the race for a number of years.

When Dan found out Scott was in need of a specialized van for his son, Alex, who suffers from cerebral palsy, he decided reach out to Scott and offer the Week Wagon as a charity program. Dan saw it as the ultimate way to spread Drag Week’s goodwill beyond hurling transmissions and engines back together. As soon as Dan posted the auction rules on the Facebook page he’d been running for the build, the infamous Harry Haig stepped in almost immediately. He refused to bid, instead offering cash on the spot for the car. In a sense, the Week Wagon came full circle: Dan was inspired by the beater bonanza enjoyed by Harry and his gang of Aussies while they built their field-found 1969 Chevelle SS for 2015 and 2016, and Harry was paying it forward to his fellow countryman by not only helping out Scott’s family but saving the Malibu as something of a Drag Week loaner for his fellow mates to visit the U.S. with and race.

They bought the Week Wagon for $6,000 before the sun set on Friday’s competition, completing Dan’s mission and cementing the Week Wagon in Drag Week lore. It’ll stay in the U.S., sharing a corner with Stevo the Chevelle at Drag Weeker Dustin Gardner’s shop, King Hot Rod and Restoration in Leavenworth, Kansas. We hear it might return in 2018 huffing some nitrous, but we can’t wait for the match race between Stevo and the Week Wagon next year! Better yet, we can’t wait to see the new Spirit of Drag Week trophy. After 13 years, the first one—featuring the cam from inaugural winner Steve Atwells’s 1968 Dart—has ran out of space and Dan is building one that features Bob Guido’s (Richard’s brother) roadside-swapped cam out of his 1969 Ford Mustang (from the when he won the Spirit of Drag Week in 2013). Not only that, Dan’s planning to build carrying cases for them so that they can travel safely across the world to anyone who watches over them, because that’s the kind of good dude he is.

The post Dan Nissen and the Expat Forest Service “Week Wagon” take Spirit of Drag Week appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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