#top caribbean med schools

[caribbeanms]

Caribbean Medical Schools: Your Pathway to a Medical Career

Are you passionate about medicine and ready to embark on a rewarding journey towards becoming a healthcare professional? Look no further than Caribbean medical schools. With their renowned reputation and comprehensive medical programs, Caribbean medical schools have become a preferred choice for aspiring doctors from around the world.

At Caribbean Medical Schools, we understand that pursuing a medical education is a significant decision. That's why we strive to provide a platform where students can explore the numerous advantages of studying medicine in the Caribbean. Our goal is to equip you with the necessary information to make an informed choice and set you on the path to a successful medical career.

Why Choose Caribbean Medical Schools?

High-Quality Education: Caribbean medical schools are known for their commitment to excellence in medical education. Many of these schools have rigorous curriculum standards that meet or exceed those of traditional medical schools. Renowned faculty members, state-of-the-art facilities, and hands-on clinical experience ensure that you receive a comprehensive education.

Accreditation and Recognition: Accredited Caribbean medical schools are recognized by various Caribbean bodies, ensuring that your degree is valued globally. Accreditation by reputable organizations such as the Caribbean Accreditation Authority for Education in Medicine and other Health Professions (CAAM-HP) validates the quality of education provided by these institutions.

Diverse and Inclusive Environment: Studying best Medical Universities in the Caribbean offers a multicultural and inclusive environment. You will have the opportunity to learn alongside students from various backgrounds, cultures, and countries. This diversity enhances your ability to collaborate, communicate, and develop a global perspective on healthcare.

Increased Opportunities for Admission: With limited seats available in traditional medical schools, the competition for admission can be intense. Caribbean medical schools offer list of medical colleges in Caribbean, providing an opportunity for students who may not have been successful in securing a spot in their home country. This accessibility expands your chances of pursuing a career in the medical field.

Clinical Rotations and US Residency Placements: Medical Clinical Rotation for IMGS have affiliations with hospitals and clinical facilities in the United States and Canada. This allows students to gain valuable clinical experience during their rotations and enhances their chances of securing US residency placements. These partnerships provide a bridge for students to transition smoothly into their medical careers.

Emphasis on Student Support: Caribbean medical schools understand the importance of comprehensive student support. From academic assistance and mentorship programs to career counselling and residency placement services, these institutions strive to support students throughout their medical journey.

CARICOM's Medical Education Oasis: Unleashing the Potential of Caribbean Medical Schools

At the heart of the beautiful Caribbean, you'll find a vibrant community of world-class medical schools that offer excellent education and training opportunities for aspiring healthcare professionals. With a strong network of institutions linked through the CARICOM treaty, studying medicine in Caribbean islands has become an attractive option for students from around the globe. Our Caribbean Medical Schools provide a high standard of medical education, combining rigorous academic programs with a supportive and nurturing learning environment. Here, students could immerse themselves in the rich cultural diversity of the Caribbean while gaining the knowledge and skills necessary to excel in the medical field.

Explore Medical Courses in the World of Caribbean Medical Schools

Caribbean Medical Schools is your go-to resource for everything related to Caribbean medical education. Our top ranked medical schools in the Caribbean provides detailed information on various medical schools in the Caribbean, admission requirements, curriculum, faculty, clinical opportunities, and much more. Whether you are a high school graduate considering medicine or a transfer student seeking a new pathway, we have the resources to guide you.

Join us on this exciting adventure towards becoming a healthcare professional. Discover the world of Caribbean medical schools and unlock your potential to make a lasting impact on global healthcare.

Begin your journey today with accredited Caribbean medical schools!

[unreal-unearthing]

Hi, I know you like the character of Benson Kwan from Grey's Anatomy, I like him too and I would love for you to tell me your opinion about him and what you understand about him based on what the show has shown us and that clearly adds up to the things you assume and believe about him or any headcanon as well.

And sorry I know it says there ask a question and I didn't really ask anything, but I think it is understood that it is a request and you can refuse it. Also I'm sorry if what I write doesn't make sense or is poorly written, english is not my first language and I do what I can.

Haha, no problem. Thanks for asking, I love talking about grey’s. And I’m really enjoying the new intern class, but I think with blue the show and fandom are doing him pretty dirty.

I’ve posted some thoughts about him before:

I’d add to this that I think eventually the show is going to have to reckon with that contradiction in his character. He can be a bit of a shark (to use the show’s terminology) with the other residents, but is almost always kind and empathetic with the patients and their families. I think he’s going to have to really work thru how much his mom’s death changed him.

Other thoughts I’ve had about him and where I wish they’d take his character:

I think he’s probably a profoundly lonely character. He said it was always just him and his mom, so I don’t think he has any other family after she died.

And in the most recent episode we found out he went to Yale before having to move home (wherever that was?) when his mom’s cancer got bad. And then the only med school he could go to was in the caribbean and then he moved to Seattle for his residency. He’s moved around a lot and seems to keep people at arms length. So I don’t think he has any friends, really? When we wanted to check out a new bar in his neighborhood it seemed like Jules was the only person he could ask, and she said no.

I’d like to see them write him a good non-romantic relationship - either with a mentor or a friend. He needs to have arcs with someone besides Jules (I actually do like their relationship, I’m just tired of it being the only thing he’s got going on.) Him/Schmitt/new peds attending could be an interesting dynamic, now that we know Schmitt wants to do a peds fellowship. I also think him and Simone could be good friends if the show would let them (they have so much in common- they were both highly competitive, top-of-their-game types who had a sudden fall from grace)

(Also, idk if you watch station 19, but they’ve announced that it’s their last season, and I think they’re probably going to find a way to write Ben back into grey’s. I think they might have him come back to finish his residency, and I think they’d be a funny duo (think of how ben was with Edwards, for example)).

Also, I actually can’t remember if they said anything specific about his dad (if he died or left or whatever) just that he was raised by a single mom, so I think that could interesting as well. Like his dad coming in as a patient and him having to confront how angry he is at being left to deal with his moms cancer on his own would be classic grey’s.

[project-sour-grapes]

Mitigation

Two articles ago, I illustrated how every area of my life was ass. In this article, I will list what I'm actually going to do about it.

First, I forgot to mention a big issue in my life, that my research at my full-time job is going so slowly that my boss is showing mild frustration. I haven't made enough time for it between picking up two classes and spinning the plates of my business, fitness, jiu jitsu, art comissions, my weekend EMT job, my MCAT studying, and more. But it's my damn job, so I better get with it. I did just resign from the weekend EMT job, so that is a partial mitigation.

Anyway, mitigation plan list. What I'm going to do is brainstorm a bunch of options for I can do. And then I'm going to pick what I will actually do.

I make the least money I've ever made. I can build my business. I can take that (secret-ish) contract that is coming up and try to knock it out of the park. I can sell my body (just kidding, I'm too much of a germaphobe for that).

I am 6 figures in debt of various types. I can solve this by addressing the previous bullet point. An option is to file for bankruptcy, but we're not doing that.

I'm the shortest, weakest guy at my jiu jitsu gym. I can hit the gym more frequently and for longer stints each time.

For my research/full-time job, I can make time for that. I can wake up at 5am and do that instead of fucking around on my phone and doom scrolling through Reddit. Part of my frustration is that I may wake up at 5:30 but not get into work until 9am between hour-long traffic and ironing my shirt and prepping breakfast, yadda yadda. This sucks especially on Tuesday/Thursdays, when my in-person Ochem class eats up 3 hours of my afternoon. I am capable of mitigating this.

I have fumbled all of my intimate relationships. This one is tough to mitigate with one or a few things. I am getting better at it though. This is a whole other conversation.

I live with my parents again. My Jeep is already setup for car camping. I could do a hybrid week where I'm near my job during the week and at my parents' on weekends. The tougher option would be to make so much money off of my business or another job that I could afford rent.

I am bald as fuck. I have been trying minoxidil with some success. I got lazy and stopped microneedling, which cost me some progress. (Yes, microneedling is scientifically supported. Ask me with my biology and almost-neuroscience degrees lol. The biochemistry behind it is reasonable [sulfotransferase, etc.] and supported in the literature.) The mitigation here would be to consistently use minoxidil and microneedling daily.

I am still pretty chubby despite working out nearly every day. The mitigation is to eat less. Clearly, I'm eating extra. I already do keto, but it has been lazy keto for the past year, and my face has gotten a little pudgy because of it lmao.

My GPA is too low for medical school. I can mitigate this with a perfect MCAT. I can apply only to schools that look at the last 60 credits. I can ask for independent review on my applications. I can make connections with adcoms through my job and apply to their schools. I can make so many quality publications that there is little room for doubt about my scientific capabilities. I could go to a Caribbean or Canadian med school.

My business has only made a few hundred in revenue. I could actually spend more time on it instead of putting time on my calendar and then not actually working on my business. My website sucks. My products suck. The articles are good, but they're slow to publish. I am being slow at all of it. I can just put out more content and products. I know what to do.

I'm already behind in Ochem 1. I can study more. Like the last bullet point, all I need to do is put in the time.

I was born without a dingaling, which makes physical relationships especially hard, on top of my goofy-ass social skills and tendency towards codependence. This one will be tough to mitigate as well, because bottom surgeries tend to be booked 2-3 years out for any surgeon worth their credentials. Will have to look more into this one for concrete steps.

[caribbean-medical-schools]

Top Reasons to Choose Caribbean Med Schools

Learn the top reasons why Caribbean medical schools attract students, from accelerated programs to tropical clinical rotations.

[synergostech]

How Synergos achieved the marketing objectives for St. George’s University, School of Medicine, Grenada, by penetrating the South Asian, Middle Eastern & Indian market.

Marketing Objectives:

Increase the brand awareness and recall amongst the audience

Generate details of people who are interested in the courses offered by SGU

Increase the percentage of marketing qualified leads and hence the admissions too.

Key Results

Highest market share in terms of audience reach Organic and paid across all mediums Growth in leads YoY: 240%

Improvement in quality of leads: 30%

Percentage increase in number of searches for brand keywords like “SGU”: 400%

240% increase in leads from South Asia, primarily from India

About St. George’s University, School of Medicine

Founded as an independent School of Medicine in 1976, our client, the premier choice in Caribbean Medical Schools, has evolved into a top center of international medical education, drawing medical and MD program students, alumni, and faculty from over 150 countries to the island of Grenada.

What was told to usIncrease brand awareness and generate leads of potential students from countries in South Asia and the Middle East.The challenge was to capture the market and grow in South Asian and Middle Eastern countries. Students and their parents from these countries have a general hesitancy about opting for Caribbean countries like Grenada, and so, the university isn’t their first choice.Aspirations

Promote the university’s USPs to create brand awareness.

Meet the proposed number of applications.

Establish the university as a coveted destination for medical studies.

Challenges with Aspirations

Venturing into a new market

Generating quality leads and consolidate the university as a premier option

Creating new location-specific microsites to cater to the local audience

Instilling a positive outlook towards Grenada as a med school destination.

Continue Learning - SYNERGOS Helps Medical Education Giant Achieved Its Marketing Objective With Digital Marketing

[virescent-v]

2, 11, 24, 27, 28, 30, 33, 35, 38, 44, 51, 58, 65, 70, 71, 72, 77, 80, 84, 91, 93, 95, 99

Hi Anon! This is so many! Find the answers under the cut so it doesn't eat up everyones feed lol.

2. Which planet  is your favourite?

Neptune!

11. What was  your favorite class at school?

Science or English.

24. Favorite  song?

Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour

27. Favorite  color?

Purple, black, or blue. If it looks like a bruise, essentially lmfao.

28. What kind of  music do you like best?

Like indie/alt? I guess. I like so many different types of music.

30. What book  did you last read?

I'm going to assume you don't mean anything that relates to school, so Count Your Lucky Stars. I have a lot of books on my tbr though that I need to work through....

33. The last  person you spoke to.

Does my cat count? Otherwise, my work bestie Sierra.

35. Where would  you go on your dream trip?

I want to go to so many places abroad it's unreal. Can I be vague and say Europe? Ugh. Top three? Ireland, South Korea, India.

38. Where did  you go abroad last time?

Honduras? Mexico? Somewhere in the Caribbean. I can't remember which was last lol. It was all on the same trip and it was years ago.

44. Favorite  Christmas Food.

Good ol sugar cookies. Use to make them by scratch with my nana every year. And I consider cinnamon rolls Christmasy because my mom would make them for breakfast every year for Christmas and that's basically the only time we ever got them lol.

51. Favorite  Actor / Actress.

Currently, if you couldn't tell by my blog, Paget Brewster lol. Also a huge fan of anything Jessica Chastain does. Lauren Graham. Hailee Steinfeld. Florence Pugh. God, I love women.

58. Do you  prefer to take pictures or be in the picture?

I prefer to take them. I have a better eye for angles and lighting than my friends lol.

65. What was  your first job?

I was like a home-health companion for an elderly woman. Hung out with her, made sure she took her meds, helped out around the house, took her for trips and such.

70. Favorite  pizza?

Extra cheese and extra pepperoni. Classics.

71. Are you  afraid of the dark? Negative. Love it.

72. Are you  afraid of heights? Kind of, yes. If it's like stationary? Like standing on something high up. But like rollercoasters and stuff no.

77. Salty or  sour? Just the right amount of salty lol.

80. Apple or  pear? Apples!

84. Cap or hood? Hood. I look terrible in hats.

91. Pen or  pencil? Pens.

93. Writing by  hand or on a computer? Recently, computer.

95. The last  thing you did in the kitchen? Danced? lmfao. I made breakfast after work.

99. What’s your  favorite series? I have so many! The ones I find myself rewatching though are SVU, Gilmore Girls, Brooklyn 99, CSI. Also love All of Us are Dead which is a Korean zombie series. Currently making my way through Criminal Minds!

:) Thanks for getting to know me!!

[samkat10423]

Jolina and Koffi

Today – in between working on my neglected flowerbeds – I relocated a few Sims. As some of you may know, Tedhi @franglishetchocolat​ made a trailer to replace that house in-between the Kennedy and the Alvi houses. And that is where I decided to move that little rag, Jaime Jolina. In real life, anyone who goes through med school – unless they have rich parents or tons of scholarships – will have HUUGE student loans to repay once the finally get out of school. There is no way, she could have afforded a semi-nice house in an upper middle-class neighborhood. She’d be lucky to afford a run-down car. Granted, EA made her a trauma surgeon, but I hate her, so I bumped her back down to an intern.

In my town history, Jaime is banging her way to the top. She tells everyone she’s as smart as she is beautiful, but in reality, she graduated from one of those island schools – and just barely, at that. Here in the States – in case you didn’t know – students who can’t get into a regular university school of medicine, opt to go down to the Caribbean and enroll in one of the schools down there. It’s a real thing, and has a bit of a stigma to it, since it means you couldn’t even get accepted into a state college – let alone one of the prestige colleges, like Harvard or Yale. It really makes it hard to get accepted by any of the major hospitals for your internship and residency programs. Plus, the other doctors – and staff – tend to look down on you. Anyway, that’s where Jaime got her education. So, telling everyone how smart she is, isn’t panning out for her. Nor is sleeping around. She’s currently having an affair with Thornton Wolff – he bought her a car – among others. She came on to Geoffrey Landgraab – not realizing he was an old flame of Morgana’s. (In my town history, he almost married her, but Thornton beat him to the punch, so he married Nancy instead. That’s what happens when you’re too shy to pop the question). Anyway, since he is the current Chief of Staff at the local hospital, he decides who gets promoted and who doesn’t. Sucks to be Jaime.

Anyway, I left the house pretty much as Tedhi designed it – although I did give Jaime a tiny desk and computer in her bedroom. 

As for the “lady” herself, other than using a different skin, hairstyle and make-up, I left her pretty much untouched. I got rid of some of her skankier outfits, but since I don’t want all “beautiful” Sims in my town, I really didn’t do much to her.

After I got done with her, I hopped over to the Koffi residence and grabbed him. EA alluded to his sexual preference, so I just helped him along, by bringing him out of the closet. He now has a fiancé and a new house.

This house was created by Kenzisims for her remake of SV. I plan on using variations of it along this road – with the idea that they were all built around the same time. Anyway, it’s pretty small, but it gets the job done, and I really hated the one that he was living in. I’ll probably use that lot for a bar.

Inside, I continued with the “green” theme for the furnishings.

And here are the two lovebirds themselves – along with their pets – enjoying a late night meal out on their back deck. The boyfriend is named Pierre Peacock, and he tells everyone that he is from Champs Les Sims. But he’s actually from Twinbrook. I gave him that hidden French trait so that he’d burst out into song, but his accent is atrocious. His bio reads: “It takes a ‘special’ kind of Sim to wear striped, bell-bottom pants, and Pierre is THAT Sim! Yes, he is! Bringing French haute couture to Sunset Valley is his latest goal. Pierre is fond of fish & chips, collecting bottle caps, and PEACOCKS!!!! (He has 3 out on his lawn, which you probably couldn’t see). So, get to know him! Get to know his pants!!!”

As you’ve probably already guessed, he is the new stylist in town.  God help the Sims of Sunset Valley.

From there, I hopped on over to Claire Ursine’s house and waited for her to pop out her rugrat. While she was waiting for the kid to arrive, she decided to go to the gym and practice her dance moves. This from a Sim who doesn’t want anyone to figure out that she’s preggers. Way to go, Claire. Claire will be moving after the brat is born, to another house Tedhi did. Claire is a third-rate crook, so having her living in a beachfront house never made any sense to me. Now, with another mouth to feed, she’s really struggling to make ends meet. Hence the move.

[wilsoncology]

Ask Game!

Thank you for the tag, Emily (@freakwiththeknifecollection)!!! 💕💕

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 20 blogs you are contractually obligated to get to know better!

Name: Jude

Star sign: Pieces 🐡

Height: 5'3 ???

Time: as I'm finishing typing this, it's 1:06 PM CT

Birthday: 00/00/0000

Favorite bands/artists: Covet, Disturbed, The Bishop and The Warlord (don't look this one up), Ichikoro, The Weeknd, Ryo Kawasaki, Casiopea, Yvette Young

Last movie: Thor: Love and THuNDERRRR ⚡⚡

Last show: I'm on season 2 of House MD, but I ended up watching The Young Ones and Alfresco before I went to bed last night 😁

When did I create this blog: AHHHH I can't remember but I think it was January this year (22')

What I post: Lots of House MD reposts, Hilson, Cuddy, Jeeves and Wooster, ROBERT SEAN LEONARD, Fry and Laurie, funny stuff, illustrations, sometimes I draw, Sherlock Holmes, B e n e d i c t C u m b e r b a t c h, Lucy Boynton❤️, the one and only Jeremy Brett because I got a Brettish fettish ... sometimes and eventually more and more, I rant about being undiagnosed with ADHD, anxiety, misophonia, college stress and figuring out how to get into med school and how to write shit

Last thing I Googled: "Is witnesseth the same thing as witness". Then I went on Google Scholar to look up P.G. Wodehouse and humourism.

Other blogs: Ni

Do I get asks?: No! But! I wish! I love questions! I love answering questions! Send me questions!

Following: I end up following everyone that likes my posts.

Average hours of sleep: I hibernate quite often

Instruments: I would love to learn to play the violin one day!

What I'm wearing: clothes, skin, bacteria...

Dream job: Professor/Lecturer/somebody's mentor!

Dream trip: London. And it'll be a one way trip.

Nationality: Caribbean/West Indian American

Favorite songs: Right now The Firing Song from House MD is stuck in my head, but it's so nice and peaceful that it'll go down as a fav. Also Swan Song by Nikki, Lonely Night by the Weeknd, Enemy by Ichikoro... I bop my head to basically anything!

Last book I’ve read: The Inimitable Jeeves

Top 3 fictional universes I’d like to live in: I've lived in the MCU for like 10 years now I think haha; Granada Sherlock Holmes universe, House MD universe (that'll be weird tbh).

Tagging: I'll just quote ya Emily, "whoever wants to do this, consider yourself tagged!!"💖

[rkived]

drabble #3: pediatricsurgeon!jk knows generalsurgeon!reader has a friendship leaderboard and he’s rightfully earned his place in it, but neurosurgeon!taehyung seems to have taken his spot. 

or, in which the hypothetical becomes true. (hospitalplaylist!au)

↩ previous | 📍drabbles masterlist | next ↪️

Jungkook has always had the theory that you have a friendship leaderboard. 

Not like you’ve ever admitted to it out loud, not even hinted to it at any given point on the ten plus years you’ve known your group of friends. 

He has no proof of it either, but he trusts his gut and his gut tells him that he’s never been number one on said leaderboard. 

Damn Namjoon, he’s like one of those record breaking artists that never seems to leave the top of the charts. 

Right now, Jungkook’s in a solid third place and only because Yoongi just came back from the vacations the hospital had forced him to take. 

‘‘So, how was the beach?’’ 

Yoongi looks at Jungkook with an unreadable expression, he’s asking himself in what tone he should respond to his younger friend. 

Sarcastic? Passive? Neutral?

‘‘I was in the Bahamas,’’ Yoongi informs him ‘‘refer to it as the Bahamas and not as if I travelled two hours to the nearest beach.’’ 

Patronizing it is. 

The pediatrician smiles anyway ‘‘It’s good to have you back!’’ and the cardiothoracic surgeon huffs, shaking his head slightly. 

Jungkook still hasn’t figured out how is it that you measure the positions in the leaderboard, but he knows that gifts are the way to your heart. He can tell because you had a big smile on your face when you looked at the key chain Yoongi brought you from the caribbean. 

Jungkook could’ve gotten you one from the gas station and told you he brought it from somewhere exotic and you would’ve bought it. 

Alas, Jungkook is slow and that’s why he’s in third place. 

Taehyung is busy on his phone to notice his friend deep in thought, Yoonah is sending him pictures of the photoshoot she had just done and his attention is reserved for his girlfriend. 

His neurosurgeon friend has always been in fifth place, doesn’t even care that he’s at the bottom of the board. Jungkook can’t blame you either, Taehyung is an okay friend at best. 

The pediatrician clears his throat, trying to get his friend’s attention, but to no avail. He does it louder this time and Taehyung only shifts to the side, thinking Jungkook wanted more space in the elevator. 

Jungkook peeks into his friend’s screen, only to notice the way Taehyung quickly types an ‘you’re slaying baby!!!’ and chuckles at the way the older friend tries to sound hip and cool for Yoonah.

Taehyung glares at him with a side eye and shoves his phone into his pocket ‘‘What do you want?’’ he asks.

Jungkook smiles, satisfied with getting attention again ‘‘Are we still going out for BBQ tonight?’’ 

‘‘No,’’ Taehyung replies, eyes coming to stare at the elevator’s floor indicator slowly coming closer to the floor he was headed towards ‘‘Y/N cancelled, she has plans.’’

Jungkook’s brows furrow at the news. He was not aware. 

‘‘Y/N cancelled?’’ he asks and Taehyung nods ‘‘When? She didn’t say anything on the group chat.’’ 

The group chat was the only way of communication the group of friends had nowadays. Even though you all worked on the same hospital, had similar shifts, it was hard to get everyone on the same room at the same time. 

Jungkook wonders if he had missed your message on the group chat where you explain why you’re cancelling on going out that night, because he had planned the outing earlier on the week and everyone─even Yoongi who was still at the Bahamas by then─had agreed on the outing. 

But Jungkook never misses your texts, especially the ones you send at the groupchat because you seem to always answer over there instead of the private conversations. 

He is still waiting for you to answer his text where he wrote an analysis over why Sharpay isn’t the villain in High School Musical. 

And after a quick once-over at the group chat, he’s asking Taehyung once again when did you say you’d cancel for tonight. 

‘‘She told me,’’ he replies nonchalantly and Jungkook’s eyes are peeled open ‘‘she’s going on a date tonight.’’

First of all, how could a fifth placer get these sort of news over a third placer?

And second, what the fuck? You’re going on a date? With who? And when did this happen? And where are you going? Is this date more important than going out for BBQ with your friends? Why didn’t you tell him? Why─?

‘‘I can tell your brain’s malfunctioning right now,’’ Taehyung teases ‘‘sadly I am all booked up for the month.’’ 

The elevator dings and the doors open, making the neurosurgeon step out and head to his consultation office. 

Jungkook’s already forgotten where he’s supposed to be right now. 

---

You don’t expect to see him when you step out of your office, you thought he would’ve left the hospital by now. 

‘‘Oh!’’ you exclaim with surprise ‘‘What are you─’’

‘‘Did I fall a position on the leaderboard? Be honest.’’ Jungkook interjects and you’re rolling your eyes, the damn leaderboard talk again. 

You sigh, shaking your head slightly ‘‘Jungkook, for the upteenth time, I have no leaderboard,’’ you say slowly ‘‘I don’t measure my friendships.’’ 

He’s always been like this. The leaderboard he had made up trailed all the way back to Med School, you thought that by this point he would’ve forgotten about it. 

But it’s Jungkook and he rarely lets things go. 

‘‘You do!’’ he argues ‘‘Taehyung is in fifth place, because, let’s be honest─he’s not that great.’’ The pediatrician continues ‘‘Then Jin is in fourth place because ever since he started doing celebrity surgeries he thinks he’s better than us or something.’’

‘‘Oh, please! Jin is the most humble─’’

Jungkook interrupts you ‘‘Third place has been iffy, but I’m pretty sure I’m there right now because Yoongi brought you a tacky keychain from the Bahamas and that’s why he’s in second place now.’’ 

You frown, because you don’t think the keychain’s tacky at all. Sure, it’s a basic tourist gift and you don’t expect anything less from Yoongi. 

‘‘And Namjoon’s always been in the top spot, but it’s alright because he’d be my first place too.’’

You sigh, eyes closed as you massage the side of your head ‘‘Are you done?’’ you ask and he hums, wondering if he missed anything else, but after covering all the bases, he nods. ‘‘Jungkook, there’s seriously no leaderboard, now why don’t you go home and rest? You need it.’’

You start to move and make your way down the hallway, there’s someone waiting for you on the basement parking and this discourse is only making you late.

‘‘Then why does Taehyung know about your date and not me?’’

Your legs come to a halt, turning around to face him again.

‘‘What? How do you─? How does─?’’ Your questions come out unfinished and Jungkook knows he’s caught you red handed. 

Normally he’d boast about being right and rub it in your face, but this time, he doesn’t feel good about it. If anything, he wishes he was wrong. 

Jungkook puts those thoughts aside, not wanting you to notice the slight hurt that’s on his face ‘‘You always tell me stuff, because I’m a second-third placer,’’ he explains ‘‘so just tell me, did Taehyung take my spot?’’.

You want to roll your eyes at your friend and tell him he’s being a big baby, but it does tug at your heartstrings seeing the look on his face. He’s disappointed that you didn’t share this news with him and you more than anyone know how much he hates being left out. 

He really is disappointed, but for other reasons. 

‘‘Okay, there are no places, alright?’’ you get closer to him and Jungkook nods ‘‘And I’m sorry, I was gonna tell you after to let you know how it went.’’ you assure and he’s forced to believe you ‘‘Now let’s go, it’s late and you need to sleep because you have a surgery scheduled early tomorrow.’’ the reminder comes with a smile and the corners of his mouth turn up at the action.

As you both make your way down, Jungkook clears his throat ‘‘So, uhm─are you driving over there?’’ he asks, trying to get you to spill more information about your date.

You shake your head ‘‘I didn’t bring my car today.’’ 

‘‘Oh, do you need a ride? I can take you.’’ he offers quickly and you giggle.

‘‘It’s fine, he’ll take me there.’’

Jungkook nods, eyes stuck on the ground and he doesn’t realize you’re both on the basement already. It doesn’t hit him until later the way you worded your answer.

‘‘He’s not picking you up?’’ he asks and you shake your head again ‘‘Wait─who’re you going on a date with?’’

It’s the first question Jungkook should’ve asked, but hadn’t because he didn’t want to seem nosy. 

You’re not able to answer because a car stops in front of you two and the passenger’s seat window lowers down, revealing OBGYN Park Jimin with a big smile on his face, directing it straight towards you. 

‘‘You ready?’’ he asks you, making you nod with a smile as well. 

Jungkook doesn’t hear the way you say goodbye to him and how you tell him to get a good night’s sleep in preparation for tomorrow morning. The only thing he hears is the way you giggle by a comment Jimin makes once you hop inside his car, taking up the free space next to him. 

The car leaves, leaving Jungkook standing alone in the basement parking as he looks at where the vehicle left. 

It’s not Taehyung or Yoongi snatching his spot from the leaderboard, but Park Jimin instead. 

a/n: me: don’t do the love triangle thing again!! also me: but what if i did the love triangle thing again?? o n thank u for the sweet comments on these drabbles they r rlly fun to write <3 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fresh Start - Prologue

Ethan x MC

Summary: After going through her own personal trauma, Dr. Naomi Valentine packs up and sets her sights on Boston. But a new job in a new city comes with its own set of challenges and drama.

A/N: I honestly have no idea why this plot popped into my head, but where we are. Part of this chapter borrows from Ethan and MC’s very first encounter in chapter 1, with some very minor tweaks.

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. And enjoy!

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartwriting @mvalentine @nooruleman 

~v~

Don’t get married at 19, they said. Don’t spend the best years of your life tied down to someone else, they said. This will be the biggest mistake of your life, they said.

They were all right.

If you would’ve told Naomi that her husband of 9 years was going to cheat on her with his receptionist and knock her up, she would’ve laughed. But fate laughed harder.

She’s Naomi freaking Valentine – thank God she never changed her last name. She’s brilliant, she’s an attending at one of the best hospitals in Washington D.C, and she comes from one of the most prominent families in this city, but none of that even matters. Because it’s Friday night and she’s currently at home, watching trashy television, crying into her couch cushion.

At first there was the unbridled rage that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Leading up to the divorce, she felt like she was always on the brink of exploding. She wanted to kill her husband, his stupid mistress, his slimy divorce attorney, and anyone else who dared cross her path.

But now that the divorce papers are signed, now that all of the air has been deflated from her, all she feels is overwhelming sadness.

Divorce sucks. It’s a pretty well known fact, but everyone else feeling the same way doesn’t negate her feelings. She’d rather get split down the middle and turned inside out than ever go through something like this ever again. She’s strong, but she’s not strong enough to endure this type of battle more than once.

She’s too wrapped up in her own feelings, she doesn’t notice the front door of her condo opening and closing. But the sound of heels clinking against her wood floors is enough to pull her out of her own thoughts.

“You weren’t answering my calls, darling.”

The vivacious voice of Dorinda Valentine booms throughout the condo. Naomi looks up and sees her mother standing a few feet away. She has Tupperware in her hands.

“Yeah, I turned my phone off.”

“I figured.”

“What’s in the Tupperware, mama?”

“I made you some chicken stir fry. I think it’s safe to assume you haven’t eaten anything today.”

It’s a correct assumption. On any other day, Naomi would devour anything her mother put in front of her face, but now, the thought of food makes her stomach turn.

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re a doctor, Naomi, you know better than anyone that you should be eating.” Dorinda stares at the tall bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “And just because vodka is made from potatoes, it still doesn’t count.”

Naomi doesn’t respond. She just turns her head and burrows further into the couch.

Dorinda stands there for a few moments, observing her daughter. It’s a depressing sight, one she isn’t used to. If she could take the pain from Naomi and somehow transfer it to herself, Dorinda would do it in a heartbeat.

“Okay.” Dorinda drops her purse to the floor and sets the containers down on the coffee table. She walks to the couch. Grabbing Naomi by the shoulder, she roughly yanks the younger woman. Naomi rolls over and drops to the ground with a thud.

“Mom!” Naomi looks at her mom with a scowl. “Why did you do that?”

“It’s been 2 weeks since you and Daniel signed the divorce papers. I have given you plenty of space and opportunity to mope around in the dark, but I think it’s time for the pity party to end.”

“2 weeks is not nearly enough time to simply get over the past 9 years.” Naomi argues as she stands up and dusts herself off. 

“I know you’re hurt–”

“No offense, but you and daddy have been married for thirty years, and last time I checked, I don’t have any half siblings conceived within that time, so you cannot fathom my hurt, so you can just skip over any platitudes that might be brewing.”

Dorinda raises an eyebrow. “You’re upset, so I’m going to ignore your wildly inappropriate and condescending tone, and give you a one time pass.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi murmurs, flopping back down on her couch. She averts her mother’s gaze because she can feel the older woman staring daggers at her. “I’m just very...out of sorts these days, like I’ve been hit by a bus and then put on a rollercoaster.”

“Now I may not understand divorce, but I can empathize with what you’re feeling.” Dorinda sits down next to Naomi.

“I know everyone thought I was crazy to marry Daniel in the first place, and I’m so sure there's no love lost on your part, but I really went into this with the best intentions. And I thought he did too.”

Dorinda runs her thumb across Naomi’s cheek, collecting a falling tear. “People suck, and life is full of crappy people who do crappy things. And I’m sorry that you had to be a victim to one of them.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m sure it feels like the easiest thing in the world to curl into a ball and stay holed up in this apartment, but you are so much stronger than that. And Daniel Thompson does not deserve the right to reduce you to this. If you want to mope on this couch for the rest of your life, then you do it on your own accord, not because of him. But in my personal opinion, I think you’re too wonderful to become a piece of furniture.”

“What do you suppose I do?” Naomi challenges with a shrug. “I don’t how to do anything other than be his wife.”

“Well, that’s not true at all. But first, you’re going to take a shower, crack open a window to let some fresh air in, and then you’re going to do something that helps you vent. Rip a pillow, scream, scratch Daniel’s face out of his pictures, whatever you want. And then you and I are going to sit on this couch and have a very good cry. And I mean an all out, snotty nose, puffy eyes, sore throat type of cry.”

Getting off of this couch sounds like a feat within itself, one that Naomi doesn’t know if she has the strength or energy to do.

“That’s the first step,” Dorinda says, playing with a strand of Naomi’s hair. “That’s the hard part, but once you do that, I promise it gets easier. You just have to trust yourself and put one foot in front of the other, okay?”

A heavy silence falls on the room and Dorinda waits on bated breath for her daughter to respond. She’s never seen Naomi like this, the life completely drained out of her.

Naomi’s voice comes out small and unrecognizable, but she answers nonetheless. “Okay.”

~v~

One month passes and things finally start progressing for Naomi. She won’t say her life is back to normal, but she’s no longer glued to her couch, so her family considers it a win.

It’s a nice day, so Dorinda forces her to leave the comfort of her apartment and spend the day with her family.

“One of your father’s friends is coming over, so be nice,” Dorinda scolds, passing her daughter a handful of silverware so they can set the dinner table.

“Oh God, mom if this is some politician asking for a donation, I can’t–”

“No politicians,” Dorinda interjects. “Naveen is in Baltimore for a few days, so we invited him to have dinner with us.”

Dr. Naveen Banerji has been friends with Naomi’s dad for as long as she can remember. While Naveen was doing his residency at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore, Steven Valentine came in for a broken arm, and they’ve been close friends ever since, even when Naveen had to move to Boston.

Naomi adores the older man, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the best doctors in the country.

“Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Naomi asks.

Dorinda shrugs. “I wanted to see if you could leave that apartment of yours without external motivation.”

“And I did,” Naomi says. “I want a medal.”

“And I want a private island somewhere in the Caribbean.”

There’s a knock at the door that startles them out of their banter. Before either one of them can reach the door, Naomi’s dad beats them to it.

“Naveen, you old man!” Steven greets. “How are you?”

“If I’m old, you’re ancient!” Naveen shoots back with a chuckle. His eyes fall on Dorinda and Naomi, who have joined them in the foyer. “Dorinda! You’re as lovely as ever.”

“Naveen, it’s so wonderful to see you again.”

“And Naomi, I haven’t seen you since your med school graduation.” Naveen sizes her younger before hugging her. “Gosh, I can’t believe you’re so grown up now. What happened to the little 5 year old who used to quiz me on the periodic table?”

“Hi, Naveen,” Naomi greets brightly.

“It smells delicious in here. Don’t tell me you made a huge fuss over me, Dorinda.”

“What? It’s not every day we get to see you.” Dorinda takes Naveen’s coat. “Go sit down, you’re here just in time. Dinner will be out in 10 minutes, tops.”

It doesn’t even take that long, and soon the Valentine family plus Naveen are all gathered around the dining room table, passing around bowls and platters of food.

“So Naveen, I heard you got a promotion recently and you’re now the Chief of Medicine at Edenbrook.”

“Yeah, my days of practicing are over.”

“Do you like the job?” Naomi asks.

Naveen nods. “I love it. I have more free time, which is a plus. And there’s still so much to do, so it fuels the adrenaline junky in me. What about you, Dr. Valentine?” He smiles. “What’s it like being an attending?”

“Demanding,” Naomi answers.

“Any interesting cases recently?”

“No.” Naomi‘s girl scrapes across her plate as she awkwardly shuffles her food around. “I, uh...I’m on a personal leave right now. I haven’t been to the hospital in weeks.”

Naveen knows all about the nasty divorce, so he nods sympathetically and doesn’t press the subject. “You were chief resident last year, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s being modest,” Dorinda says. “She was at the top of her cohort.”

“Of course she was.” Naveen takes a sip of his drink, but his eyes are still trained on Naomi, wheels turning. “How do you like the hospital you’re working at?”

“It’s good.”

“Do you think that it’s the best fit for you? Are you being pushed to your limits? Are your superiors still checking in with you? You’re an attending now, but they should still care about your development.”

Naomi feels overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions. What is this, a job interview?

“Slow down Naveen, what’s with the interrogation?”

“What? I care about you, and I care about your potential. I just hope it’s not being wasted.”

“It’s not,” Naomi assures him.

“You know, there will always be a standing invitation for you to join the team at Edenbrook,” Naveen tells her.

A wide grin forms on Dorinda’s face and before Naomi can respond, she does. “She accepts!”

And that’s when the lightbulb turns on above Naomi’s head. She glances from Naveen to her parents. “Did you guys set this up?”

Naveen raises an eyebrow at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Did my parents ask you to come here and give me a job offer?”

“No, I’m here because I have a conference to attend in Baltimore tomorrow, so I thought I’d drop in. No one asked me to give you a job offer. You’re intelligent, you’re compassionate, you’re a good doctor, and I wouldn’t be a very smart Chief if I didn’t at least try to poach you for myself.”

“And she accepts!” Dorinda continues.

“Mom, stop it!” Naomi scolds.

“You’ll get a chance to work with me,” Naveen adds. “You’ll get a chance to work with Dr. Ethan Ramsey, my protege. We’re a level 1 trauma center, and Boston is a gorgeous city.”

The last thing Naomi needs right now is a new job in a new city, not while her life is in complete shambles. Besides, her entire life is in DC. It’s where her entire support system resides. Functioning without them sounds daunting.

“I really appreciate the offer Naveen, but that is definitely a lot to take in and consider.”

“Of course, I understand. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, nor do I expect any sort of answer.” Naveen sighs. “How much longer are you going to be off of work?”

“A few more weeks.”

“How about you come to Boston, and at least check out the hospital?” He suggests. “No strings attached, and you can stay at my lake house because I’m hardly ever there and there’s tons of space, so someone should enjoy it. At the very least, I think seeing it will at least be a fun experience and a nice vacation.”

“If I say yes to the trip, can we pause this conversation for the rest of the evening?”

Naveen nods. “I think that’s a fair exchange.”

“Then you have yourself a deal.”

Naomi relaxes and slouches slightly in her seat. When she gets home later on, she has a mission to complete: research the hell out of Boston and Edenbrook Hospital.

~v~

Boston is a beautiful city full of history, culture, and interesting attractions. Naomi appreciates the hustle and bustle of the city life, and the fact that everyone is always on the go – a vast difference from the quiet and serenity of Naveen’s lake house in Plymouth.

And Edenbrook is an entirely different beast. It is much larger than she expects, as the pictures don’t do it justice. The building is at least 7 stories tall to her naked eye, sleek and modern.

Naomi silently marvels as she watches doctors and nurses bustle around, chatting quietly amongst each other.

“Wow.” Is all she can say.

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Naveen asks rhetorically, smiling at Naomi’s childlike wonder.

“This hospital is amazing,” is what she finally settles on when words finally come back to her.

“Follow me, we have an unofficial tour to go on.”

Naomi follows Naveen through the hospital. She struggles to keep up as she tries to memorize the complex layout, because this hospital is large and built like a multi-level maze. 

Naveen rattles off information and fun facts as they pass through the pediatric department, they stop to stare at the newborns in labor and delivery, all small and wriggly, and they even manage to sneak into the OR to watch Harper Emery perform a craniotomy, something Naomi compares to a religious experience.

“I can’t believe I just watched The Harper Emery perform surgery!” Naomi squeals with delight as she and Naveen step out of the gallery and leave the OR. “Please tell me that wasn’t a dream.”

“I didn’t peg you for a surgery fanatic,” Naveen teases.

Naomi scoffs. “I’m not, but I respect Dr. Emery. You don’t have to be a basketball fan to appreciate that Michael Jordan is one of the greats.”

“That’s a fair comparison.”

The two of them continue their leisurely stroll around the hospital, making their way to the internal medicine department.

“This is where you’d spend a good chunk of your time, if you wanted to work here, of course.”

“Is it a large department?” Naomi asks quietly. There are a few patients filling out paperwork ahead of their appointments and she doesn’t want to disturb them.

“It is. We have a lot of doctors here so you can spend that extra one-on-one time with your patients, and you aren’t just rushing them out the door to get to your next appointment.”

“That’s good to know.”

Naveen’s pager goes off and he checks it before sighing. “The life of a Chief is never dull. I have to go take care of something downstairs, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. Do you think you can occupy yourself in the meantime?”

“Of course.” Naomi shoos him away. “Take your time.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Naomi watches as he walks away, until she can no longer see him through the crowds of people. Once he’s truly gone, she continues her slow stroll through the halls.

Edenbrook seems like an amazing hospital and a great place to work, but she’s not sure if she can see herself staying.

Can she really pack up and move more than 400 miles away from her entire family, and the only life she’s ever known? And is she the type to run away when life gets tough? What will everyone say? “Oh, poor girl gets left by her husband and had to flee the city.”

But what’s stopping you? The little voice in her head asks, and it’s technically right. She looks down at her left hand, zeroing in on the ring-less finger with a deep tan line, a very prominent reminder of what’s definitely not waiting for her back in DC. No husband, no kids, nothing but an empty and quiet condo.

When she filed for divorce, Naomi swore to herself that running off to city hall to get married would be the first and last wild and impulsive thing she’d ever do. And taking a job offer on a whim in Boston is teetering dangerously close to that “wild and reckless” category.

But she’s pulled out of her thoughts when someone gasps loudly beside her. Whipping her head around, Naomi watches as a middle aged woman falls out of her seat and collapses onto the ground.

That sends the waiting area into a frenzy as fellow patients panic and crowd around the woman like she’s some sort of zoo exhibit, and nurses try their best to assess the situation and ask for help.

“Everyone, step back!” Naomi orders, a serious expression covering her face. “I’m a doctor!”

Before Naomi can even reach the woman, another doctor rushes over, kneeling down beside her. He lifts her wrist and pressed two fingers to it. 

“Her pulse isn’t weak. She’s unresponsive.”

His face scans the crowd and Naomi inwardly gasps as she realizes that it's Ethan freaking Ramsey! In any other situation, she’d be freaking out and fan-girling over him.

He spots her and points. “You. Get in here.”

Naomi bites down on her tongue and resists the urge to get snappy with him. She’s not a puppy that can get summoned on command. But she remembers that a woman’s life is on the line and her own hang ups can wait.

“Right away, Doctor!”

With practiced ease, Ethan lifts the woman up and places her on a gurney that’s been rolled over by a nurse. Within seconds, Naomi is at his side.

“What was she coming in for?” He asks, hoping someone can answer his question. “Did she fill out a form yet?”

A nurse clears his throat before answering, “No, she had just walked in.”

That’s not the answer Ethan was hoping for and he frowns. “If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this gurney.” He spares a quick glance at Naomi. “Check her B.P.”

A nurse hands Naomi a blood pressure cuff and she slips on around the woman’s arm. After pumping it a few times, she checks the numbers. They’re horrible.

“It’s plummeting. She’s hypotensive,” she explains. “We’ve gotta get fluids in her, now.”

Ethan nods, agreeing with the assessment. Another nurse sets up an I.V. while Naomi checks over the woman once more. She notices a bruise on her elbow, one that wasn’t there a minute ago, and her fingertips are turning blue.

“Doctor, look at her fingers,” Naomi says, getting Ethan’s attention. “I think it’s a sign of low oxygen saturation.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “You think or you know? We really don’t have time for the guessing game.”

“I know,” Naomi assures him, her tone coming out rougher than she intended. She’s not a fan of being second guessed, especially by someone who specifically requested her to assist.

“Good. Did you notice the bruise?” Naomi nods. “A bruise forming that quickly suggests that this woman is a hemophiliac.” Ethan slides his stethoscope from around his neck and hands it to Naomi. “Check her lungs, quickly.”

Naomi does what she’s told and takes a closer listen to her woman’s lungs. 

“Nothing on her left side, and the right side is struggling. She’s going to suffocate!”

Oh God, how did she get roped into this? This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation away from all of the stress of her life, now Naomi is watching a woman suffocate to death.

Dr. Ramsey isn’t having the same struggle as she is, as he remains calm, though everyone around them is on high alert. “We’ve got a Code Blue,” he says, his voice steady. A nurse hands him a bag mask and he starts delivering air to the woman.

Naomi watches as he does that, trying to remain calm. She closes her eyes and attempts to steady her thoughts, and figure out what’s wrong with the woman.

“Hey, either help out or leave, but I don’t need you here doing nothing,” Ethan says, interrupting her thoughts.

Naomi flinches a bit at the interruption, but she continues thinking. Low oxygen, hemophilia, deflated lungs. What could it possibly be?

As she’s going through the options, it hits her. “It’s a hemothorax!”

Ethan nods, confirming the diagnosis. “A blood vessel ruptured…”

“...and it’s blocking her lungs from expanding any further,” Naomi finishes. She looks around. They’re in a crowded waiting room, not the OR. “But we can’t do anything here!”

“There’s no time to get her to the OR, we’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain her pleural cavity.” Ethan points to a nurse. “You! I need a chest tube and a scalpel, now!”

A nurse rushes over immediately, placing the items in Naomi’s hands. She barely has time to register the fact that she’s about to perform an emergency procedure on an unconscious woman, and she’s not even supposed to be in doctor-mode today before Ethan is lifting the woman’s shirt 

“We’re gonna need a local anesthetic to–”

“We don’t have time for any of that!” Ethan snaps. “Do it now, or she’s going to die, and it’ll be on you!”

Naomi gulps and wills herself to calm down. Her pulse is racing and she can hear her heart beating in her ears.

But she breathes deeply. She doesn’t have time to panic, not when there’s a life on the line. She steadies her hand, and makes the incision at the woman’s rib cage.

“There you go, nice and easy,” Dr. Ramsey coaches. “Now insert the tube.”

Naomi insets the chest tube into the incision. Slowly but surely, the blood starts draining out of the woman’s chest, and she gasps, breathing again.

The woman, now conscious again, mutters something unintelligible, but she’s alive and that’s all that matters.

“We...we did it.”

The older physician ignores Naomi, instead turning to the nurse that’s been helping them. “She’s stable. Get her into surgery, but she’s stable.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

The nurses take the patient away, while the crowd applauds them for the heroic save. Eventually the crowd disperses, everyone going back to what they were previously doing.

The relief that floods through Naomi’s body is all-consuming. She hasn’t felt this euphoric in a long time. And to experience it with someone as amazing as Doctor Ramsey only elevates things. Doctors can only dream of working with him, and she actually got to do it, even if it was on a whim.

Maybe working at Edenbrook isn’t such a bad idea.

She turns back to Ethan, a giddy grin wide across her face. “Doctor...that was…amazing!”

“You’re right. It’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed.”

That takes the wind out of her sails almost instantly. “Wait, what?”

“Your examination was slow and superficial. And your scalpel technique?” He scoffs in derision. “Amateur at best.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Naomi asks. “I’m sorry, I’m not at work today, this entire situation threw me for a loop, and a waiting room definitely isn’t a proper setting to do any of what we just did. And if I’m so amateur at my job, what prevented you from stepping in at any time since you’re so much better than I am? Because if my recollection is correct, I did most of the work, while you stood there like some glorified overseer.”

“You’re the one who yelled out that you were a doctor. I wanted to test your mettle.”

Her blood boils in her veins at his words. So this is why they say never meet your heroes. Because they turn out to be righteous assholes.

“My mettle is just fine. You say it’s a miracle I didn’t kill her, I say she’s alive because of me. And another thing, I don’t need you testing my mettle when a patient’s life is on the line. Next time, save the little power trip.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at her words. No doctor in their right mind has ever spoken to him like this. He stares down at the woman, almost a foot shorter than him, and she’s staring up at him with just as much intensity. “Now I don’t know who you think–”

“Naomi, there you are!”

Ethan’s tirade is cut short by the sound of Naveen’s voice echoing through the halls. He looks up to see his mentor and boss headed towards them.

“I’m sorry that took longer than expected Naomi,” Naveen says once he’s finally close enough. He looks her up and down. Her blouse and pants are ruined, covered in that woman’s blood. “Hue hat happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Naveen,” Naomi assures him. “It’s not mine. And it’s a very long story, one I’ll tell you once I’m out of these clothes.”

“Very well.”

Ethan watches as the two of them casually converse. He’s known Naveen for well over a decade, and not once has he seen or heard of this woman. How does Naveen know her well enough for them to be on a first name basis?

“You two know each other?” He asks, interrupting their conversation.

Naveen nods. “Oh yes, we go way back. Ethan, this is Dr. Naomi Valentine. Naomi, this is Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”

Naomi gives Ethan a tight smile. She’s no longer in the mood for pleasantries. “Charmed.”

“Likewise, Dr. Valentine.”

“Naomi here is from DC, and I’m trying to convince her to come to Edenbrook,” Naveen explains. He knows better than anyone how much Naomi admires Ethan’s work. Maybe he’ll be able to help him convince the younger woman to accept a job at Edenbrook. “It’s so perfect that you guys met and became acquainted, because I actually think she’d be an excellent addition to the diagnostics team.”

Ethan’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at that statement. “What?”

[stuart010]

6 Ways Caribbean Medical School Ranking Can Improve Your Business

Best Way for Caribbean Medical School Ranking - 1. Medical schools in the Caribbean are ranked by their reputation 2. The rankings are determined by factors such as graduates' success and quality of education 3. The top medical school is American University of Barbados, which has a 99% graduate success rate 4. Some students find it challenging to get into these schools due to their high standards and strict requirements 5. For example, one requirement is that applicants must have completed at least two years of pre-med courses before applying for admission 6. These requirements can be met by attending four years of undergraduate studies or completing eight semesters (four years) of college course work at a regionally accredited institution in the United States or Canada

[the-steve-stevenson-experience]

Dress For Where You Are Going, Not For Where You've Been

Day 2:

I don't think I slept very well. There's air conditioning in the bedrooms, so that wasn't an issue. The curfew is 10pm weeknights and 12midnight on weekends, so after 12 there wasn't any of golf cart noise. And those little fuckers are noisy. I woke up early, like 6am and really couldn't get back to sleep. I stayed in bed trying for like an hour, but finally just got up. I made coffee and sat out on the balcony. The chairs that are out here are not super comfortable, but are ok. Like I couldn't sit out there for hours. Which is good, because I could sit out there for hours, if you know what I mean. I wanted to try some place for breakfast, so I walked the block to the beach, there is a nice beach right there with no wall and the two piers on either side are a good distance apart. I stood at the corner of the road and the beach pondering which way I should go.

(My directions are all screwed up here. My window faces east. In my head I should be facing south. I don't compensate for the fact the country is long and thing, and runs north and south. The cay that I'm on also runs north and south. I am basically at the top of the Caribbean Sea, top being north of course)

This kid walks by, and I ask him where there is a good place for breakfast. He tells me of a place, and points down the beach. He then says, walk with me I'll take you there. So we walk. And we talk. He just moved to San Pedro from Corozal, a small village in the north, near Mexico. He was working and going to school. He decided to move here for work, and to continue school. He then tells me that he was robbed at gunpoint and had nothing. Then Covid hits, and the jobs went away. And, I'm thinking that he was gonna hit me up for money. He then tells me that he met some guy who let him stay in one of his vacant houses, and gave him food, and some money, and how he is really thankful for people like that. So, now I'm thinking he won't hit me up for money.

(One thing I learned when I was in Mexico was that people will often times help you out by taking you somewhere, finding something, talking to people for you, or whatever. There are nice people first and foremost, but they are also acting as a concierge. And, it is appropriate to send a little cash their way)

Which reminds me, I want to give the Chief of Security something for his time. Me and Denerik walk to a place on the beach called Jambel Jerk Pit. Now, those Americans with a 14 boy mind will think that name is funny, but the food is good, and that bartender made a great mango smoothy. I had the chicken and pork combo jerk. Oh, and I did give Denerik a couple bucks Belize for his time. He seemed a bit suprised that I offered. He, you do something for me and I'm able, I'll take care of you. Well, take care of might be a strong phrase. I won't let you die, is more accurate. The jobs aren't back yet. Some are. This giant new resort, Aria, just opened and hired 200-300 locals. He told me about it and is trying to get on with them. The woman who did my mani-pedi and massage also told me about it. I haven't heard a bad word about the place so far.

(There are still a lot of people out of work here. That's why it seems like I get hit up for cash a lot. Really, only twice in a few days. I get more than that in Denver)

It's not very busy or crowded here. There are no waits to do anything. A lot of places are pretty empty, but they are open. They aren't desperate, but the do kind of clamor for your business. I get people who will come out onto the beach and talk to me about coming into their business. They pitch you from their patios. They are like carnival barkers trying to get your attention. I was told that San Pedro had only one reported case of Covid. This whole country is taking it seriously though. Everyone wears a mask in public, and by public I mean unless you in your house, or sitting at a table in a restaurant, you are wearing a mask. They have a curfew in place, but things are moving into the open.

I did go and get that pedicure I've been wanting. I had a mani-pedi not too long ago, but it needed done again. I also got a massage. It was in this little joint out over the ocean. A nice breeze was blowing through, and she did a great job on all of it. They recommended a place for dinner. I was asking about what's Belizean food, and the dude told me that Belizean food is based on Mayan food. So, plantains, rice and beans, seafoods of course, cole slaw, potatoes, coconut, deer and even iguana meat. Haven't seen any of that yet. I will try it if I see it. This is Kriol food. I made plans to eat at the place they recommended.

Speaking of restaurants. Most places seem to have a Jamaican, Mexican, and American (read as US) influence. I've seen fried pickles on almost every menu. Jerked food is very common here. And, tacos and burritos are also. The whole tortilla, tamale, ceviche and other "Mexican" dishes are most likely common to this part of the world. Much like a lot of countries surrounding the Mediterranean sea have very similar foods, especially the southern Med.

I spent too much money in a gift shop. I needed some shirts because I forgot I owned any tank tops and didn't bring them. I needed a swim suit, again because I forgot the ones I already own. I normally don't do touristy shit, but today, I bout a few shirts with catchy, funny little phrases and Belize on them. I can't not look like a tourist here, so I'm not worrying too much about it.

(On my way back to the condo I was approached by some dude. He kept asking me if I wanted any. I finally looked him. He was asking if I wanted any while grabbing his crotch. I asked, "want any what?" I said, I was good, and he left)

I took my too much shit back to the condo, and then started walking to dinner. I can figure directions out pretty well, so I decided to find my own way there. Besides I couldn't remember the name. I knew kind of where it was, and I would know the name when I saw it. And, I didn't exactly get lost, but I did walk down some streets that a lot of tourists probably don't walk down. After walking around a bit, I found it, El Fogon. I had salbutes, like little tostadas, fried corn tortilla with tomato chicken, cole slaw, and a jalapeno. I also got the shrimp creole. It was all very good.

[duckbeater]

Courtship, pt. 1

We interrupt the fantasy series Odd Frock to bring you the dystopian series Courtship, a reflection on life in the time of coronavirus (truly unprecedented, groundbreaking, up-to-the-minute content). Odd Frock will resume with its third installment, “No Oaths,” sometime next week! —The Editors

—

The Times recently ran an essay-review about the prevalence of “deception” as a theme in newish queer novels. A spate of gay writers have taken up the cause of lies again—lies for love, lies for survival, that sort of thing. I remember reading this description way too close to bedtime, becoming furious, posting a screengrab of the headline to my Instagram story, and then flinging myself to sleep.

Those nights, sleep was less a sheer cliff than a steep embankment, ending in a kind of gray-water ravine. The kind you sometimes find behind subdivisions, full of detergent bottles and half-crushed cans of Michelob Ultra. A lot of my friends—I mean, my coworkers—were describing this sensation: lying in bed awake, confused about the day (unremitting sameness) and confused about the prospect of waking up in a day exactly the same. “I have no reason to sleep,” said my friend Vadim, in his theatrically Russian accent, “and yet I have no better reason to wake up.” This from a man expecting his first child, a baby girl named Marta, in August.

When I tried to go to bed at night and couldn’t sleep, sometimes I punched pillows and blankets into a human-shaped substitute, and pretended to hold this cool lump’s hand. I missed holding a hand while I slept.

I was trying to be honest but not dire with my therapist. Our weekly, forty-five-minute phone sessions had devolved into weak-sauce temperature checks on my declining optimism, and whether my anxiety and boredom were putting me at an increased risk for “acting out.” I think by “acting out,” he meant drinking myself into a rage and dealing in criminal property damage, something I’d done back in October when I had, plausibly, fewer reasons for “acting out.” I’d been arrested and everything. It was a bad time.  

Dave kept offering platitudes taken from his decade working as a chaplain for a clinic in Chicago, during a different plague. I didn’t exactly rebuff his analogizing the wan present with his indelible past, but I didn’t accept these comparisons uncritically, either. “You have to make a lot more choices, more intimate choices, to contract HIV,” I said, after another riff about “needing touches” and “harm reduction” and “risk.” “But the choices I’m making right now are like, Should I Clorox wipe my mail? Should I pet my neighbor’s dog?”

“Evan, what I’m trying to tell you is, you’ll get lonely and start making decisions out of loneliness, desperate loneliness. And whether those decisions include an intimate encounter or a neighborhood walk or maybe a small dinner with friends, you’ll need to entertain the idea of exposure and infection.”

Despite the obviousness of his remarks, I felt pierced by their retrospective application. Pierced and humbled, etc. My life, the one I was leading by myself in my studio apartment, seemed entirely the product of decisions made out of desperate loneliness. The night before our session, I’d watched four hours of Bon Appétit content on YouTube, despite a very on-the-record hatred for cooking, and the night before that, I’d spent six hours spider searching a tiny desk lamp with a cement base. I needed a light feature in my bookshelf—a light feature that could double as a heavy, practical book-stopper. Its discovery engendered a sort of mania. My attention had become a hostage to material comforts. A fantasy I kept coming back to was of a tall blond, maybe from the professional-managerial class, walking into my confinement and being so taken with the objets d’arte and expensive candle glow, he’d shuck his pants off without my needing witty banter or, heaven forfend, making dinner to seduce him.      

What I wasn’t telling Dave wasn’t lying. I wasn’t contorting the truth per se, only under-reporting the meager life events taking place in quarantine, so that most of my hours were spent, it seemed to him, sitting on my couch trying to read. We’d already discussed how reading was impossible. I was too horny. I missed my ex a lot, who also seemed to miss me a lot—he called nearly every day. On one such phone call, I asked for sex by name. I said, “Let me into your bubble, and let’s just fuck it out, please.” I didn’t tell Dave about this. I wanted him to think the two years of hard work we’d put into the breakup was unshakable. That the work was in fact extraordinarily fragile demoralized me endlessly and was, frankly, too embarrassing to report. Besides, my ex didn’t so much decline as leave my request unanswered. Much the kindest thing to do.  

I didn’t tell Dave that I wasn’t eating. Or that I was eating, but like a varmint. A handful of blueberries in the morning, some Cheez-Its for lunch, coffee all day long. Every few days I’d get a hankering for potatoes and put a hurting on pound after pound of frozen microwavables, folding in expensive cheeses. What else. I had developed a compulsive mail habit—checking my mailbox up to five times a day. I ran during the afternoon, and every run, I loathed and cursed dog-walkers, who never broke rank and whose dogs kept them cheerful, glowing, vital, loved. I’ve never hated dogs more. I’ve never hated strangers more. I rarely wore a mask.

Wait. This is what I wanted to explain. It’s facile but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it strongly—that I don’t still feel it strongly. The whole of life, operating along its axis of normal, acceptable behavior, had become a massive con. Maybe what I mean is, the massive con, long evident but carefully ignored, was now fully exposed, or fully loosed, and terrorizing people. It was impossible to pretend that our political system, our economic system, our public health system, our way of organizing culture and society, hadn’t brought us catastrophic failure. And lying about this, deceiving ourselves to go on, was all we had left.

Lying was sanity’s saving grace. Deception, I did not tell my therapist, was become fortitude’s handmaiden. Maybe this entry should be called “What I Wasn’t Telling Dave,” but then it couldn’t have the title I’ve already pinned to the top of the page, “Courtship,” which to me is what this pandemic has really been about. Making overtures to beautiful, intelligent gentlemen, with scant certainty of any attentions panning out, to distract myself from the strange days and lonely nights. (I’m aware that for others this pandemic must be about “joblessness,” “stillness,” “conspiracy” or “annihilation.”) Anyway. I’m writing this in the past tense, I guess to occupy the narrative position of someone who successfully avoided death, the death of loved ones, and ended up, firmly, finally, not sleeping with his ex. It’s so sunny in the city today, it almost looks like the future.

When I broke quarantine, it was to give a beautiful, silly twenty-five-year old a haircut. Scotty brought over Cheez-Its and played over two hours of Mario Kart with me; we necked for two hours more and then fell asleep, entwined; in the morning he showered again, and I gave him a cup of coffee while he stood under the running hot water. “My hot water’s been out for a couple weeks,” he explained, after my asking if he’d passed out in there. Cutting Scotty’s hair was the romantic highlight of my spring. He sat on the toilet in my underwear and gabbed about going to med school in the fall, on some Caribbean island. He left hair everywhere, in every crevice of the bathroom, in the bar soap and spare toothbrush. In the weeks when I continued to isolate alone, I’d find more of him under the sink, under the rug, under the conditioner. Obviously, I didn’t tell Dave about this. I cherished it and didn’t want a lecture.

[argylemnwrites]

Warmth

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Cassie Vanderfield)

Book: Open Heart (a little over 1 year after the end of Book 1)

Word Count: ~1300

Rating: G

Summary: Bryce finds himself in an unexpected location for his vacation.

Author’s Note: Written for Days 12 and 14 of the Autumn writing prompt list (prompts - Bonfire and Toasted Marshmallows) as requested by @universallypizzataco. I hope you don’t mind that I combined these prompts into one fic, but they just went so well together!

Bryce pulled the blanket further up over his lap and settled back in the lawn chair as he sank further into his Patagonia. His front might have been warm enough from the heat pouring off the flames, but his back was cold. The smoke from the bonfire drifted over toward him as the wind shifted, not only chilling him more, but also causing him to start coughing. 

This wasn’t exactly how Bryce had pictured spending his vacation. His other vacations in residency had been a bit more adventurous. Hiking in Peru. Backpacking in Iceland. Surfing in Bali. When he learned that he and Cassie had been lucky enough to actually have a week of vacation that lined up, he’d figured they could go to a resort in the Caribbean. Something warm, tropical, and relaxing, a perfect escape from the cold wind and rain of Boston Octobers.

But instead, they were at a cabin in Michigan’s upper peninsula. Instead of a luxury king sized bed, they were sleeping in twin beds they’d shoved together. And instead of cocktails on the beach or by the pool, they were drinking beer around a bonfire, the temperature 45 degrees, not 82. But when Cassie had suggested they head to her family’s cabin to join her parents and her brother in closing it down for the season, he hadn’t been able to say no. She’d looked so excited, her eyes sparkling and her speech just slightly pressured, telling him she hadn’t made it up there for this annual tradition since the second year of med school. Who was he to deny her that chance?

To be fair, it hadn’t all been huddling in the cold and lounging around a bare bones cabin. They’d spent a couple days in Ann Arbor for her fellowship interview at the start of their vacation, and their trip north had involved a night in a quaint little B&B as they ate fudge, rented bikes, and golfed at a much nicer course than they could afford in the warmer months on Mackinac Island. But for the past two days, they’d been up in the middle of nowhere, and starting Friday night, they’d been joined by her parents and her brother. Which is how Bryce found himself sitting around a bonfire with Mrs. Vanderfield and Nick on the last Saturday of their vacation, waiting for Cassie and her father to join them with the s’mores supplies. 

It was a bit strange to find himself willingly attending a family vacation. Of course, this wasn’t his family. And her family, though they were far from perfect, at least seemed to be open and caring with one another. Even now, as Bryce listened to Mrs. Vanderfield needle Nick about the length of his hair and how it wasn’t helping his job search, it felt more affectionate and warm than even the nicest compliments his parents tended to pay him. 

Soon, Cassie plopped down in the lawn chair next to his, grabbing a marshmallow from the bag and shoving it on her roasting stick before passing the bag to him. Bryce grabbed his stick, sitting next to him since he finished roasting his hot dog for dinner, and placed his marshmallow above the center of the bonfire, causing Cassie to roll her eyes and laugh.

“How many times do I have to tell you that’s a recipe for a burnt marshmallow?”

Bryce winked and shrugged, “Only like half the time. And what can I say, I like to live on the edge.”

“Yeah, real big risk taker here. You’re just impatient.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk. How many miles over the speed limit were you going on the way up here when you got pulled over?”

Cassie shot him a dirty look as her mother interjected, “Cassie, you got another speeding ticket? And in a rental car? I’m so sick of telling you that getting somewhere five minutes faster is not worth risking your life.”

“Mom, it was nothing. They let me off with just a warning.”

“Only because you played the doctor card,” Bryce chimed in, taking great amusement as Cassie glared at him while her father just shook his head as her mother pinched the bridge of her nose and Nick chuckled. “What medical emergency were you rushing to again?”

“None at that time, but if you keep this up, you will need a doctor before the night’s over.”

“Promises, promises,” Bryce said with a grin, but wisely decided to stop the teasing while she was only mildly annoyed. He pulled his marshmallow out from the center of the flames, perfectly golden brown. He glanced over at Cassie’s stick, held over the edge of the fire. Her marshmallow was still pale white.

Bryce grabbed the chocolate and graham crackers off the spare lawn chair, using them to slide his marshmallow off the stick and passed the s’more to her. “Here,” he said as he grabbed the stick out of her hand, “We’ll be here all night if you wait for that marshmallow to roast there, and we have to be on the road by 7am for our flight.”

“Wait, not only did Cassie get my bed for her boyfriend, but they aren’t gonna even be here for the worst parts of closing up the cabin?” Nick asked as he whipped his head around to look between his parents.

“We’re just happy Cassie could make it this year. And Bryce, of course,” Mr. Vanderfield said as he made his own s’more, leaving off the chocolate and just using graham crackers.

“Next year we should close out the cabin the first weekend of their vacation so they can actually help on Sunday. And one of you two can take the couch,” Nick said with a shake of his head, pointing between Bryce and Cassie.

“I doubt they’ll be able to make it next year, Nick. Bryce, your residency is four more years, is that right?” asked Mrs. Vanderfield.

Bryce nodded and opened his mouth to clarify, but saw his marshmallow catch fire. Yanking the stick back toward him, he quickly blew it out, but still found himself with a blackened marshmallow. Cassie moved to get him a new one, but he shook his head and made his s’more anyway. A little charring wasn’t a problem.

“The next two years are dedicated research time for me, so we should have some flexibility in scheduling our vacations,” Bryce said before taking a bite. 

“Oh, don’t feel obligated, dear. We completely understand if you two want to take a trip to Hawaii to see your family. That has to be more exciting than the UP,” said Mrs. Vanderfield.

“And warmer,” added Mr. Vanderfield.

Bryce just shook his head and continued eating his s’more. No need to get into that mess tonight. So he let the conversation drift to other topics, from Thanksgiving plans with Mrs. Vanderfield’s sister to Mr. Vanderfield’s new boss, from memories of the time Cassie broke her arm climbing the giant oak tree out front to Mrs. Vanderfield attempting to determine if Nick was currently dating anyone. It was so different than what Bryce was used to when his family got together, watching a family that clearly actually liked spending time with one another. 

As they left the bonfire and went to get ready for bed in the tiny bathroom, Cassie slipped her hand into his and said, “Thanks for coming up here with me. I know this isn’t your usual vacation.”

Bryce shrugged, “Maybe, but I am always up to try something new.”

“Still, I know you aren’t a big fan of the cold.”

“Warmth isn’t always found in a forecast, Cassie.” 

She smiled at him gently, then handed him his toothbrush and toothpaste from the toiletry bag they had sitting on the top of the toilet tank. While she was right that he never would have chosen a vacation like this on his own, he wouldn’t change sharing these moments with her for anything.

@mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenchoices @octobereighth @feartheendlesssummer @tallulahshh @fortunatelywaywardsandwich @dreaming-of-movies @choicesarehard @universallypizzataco @omgjasminesimone @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl

[dearyallfrommatt]

 My late father loved Krystal burgers. Even after his diabetes blossomed into something his battered old body could barely control, if he came near a town that had a Krystal, he’d make Momma drive him by it. When my brother got married in Athens, GA, and a mix-up of Daddy’s meds put him in a serious fog, he had enough presence of mind to have us make a run to the one on Prince Avenue.

 Long story short, the Krystal burger chain is filing for bankruptcy. Founded in 1932 and famous for those little hamburgers like you’d get at White Castle up North, the company has a hearing in the North District Court of Georgia Wednesday, citing debts up to $100 million dollars. Regardless how things turn out, some of the 320 restaurants in nine different states will remain open thanks to franchising, but that still makes life a little worrisome for the 5,000-plus people who work for the company now, mostly at part-time wages, of course.

 The last time Krystal went bankrupt was 1997 and that was due to millions of dollars of unpaid overtime owed to employees. The company was bought by a private equity firm, Port Royal Holdings, for $145 million dollars. As an aside, the original Port Royale was a famous pirate haven back during what’s called The Golden Age of Piracy, roughly 1620-1720, before becoming a center for “legitimate” shipping and trade in the Caribbean, but I’m sure that’s a coincidence.

 Since 1997, Krystal has bounced from private equity firm to private equity firm and has had eight different CEO’s. The last one, Paul Macaluso, left after the company eliminated franchises and management positions, not to mention slashing basic staff, in an effort to not actually turn a buck but the stave off their mounting creditors. The company declared bankruptcy the day their last loan deal with a creditor ran out. At the same time, the company’s dealing with an investigation into their payment practices and a “security breach”.

 I doubt this will mean we’ll see the end of Krystal, but maybe. What’s most likely is that yet another private equity firm full of people who care nothing about anything beyond making more and more profit and damn the torpedoes, will swing in to rescue it, finding new and better ways to screw over workers. Because they can never make enough money.

 I don’t understand rich people, I really don’t. People who can’t just enjoy their wealth and good fortune, I mean, the ones that have to have more and more lucre. Wrestling legend Jim Cornette - stay with me here - once said the main thing he could not understand about former boss and WWE CEO Vince McMahaon is why he couldn’t just enjoy his billions. He had to have more and, not only that, fuck over other people as much as possible while doing it.

 For your edification, after the end of the Monday Night Wars in 1999, the only professional wrestling company that made money was the WWF. McMahaon - who bought the company from his father Vince Sr. in the late ‘70s for one dollar - was literally worth billions. On top of that, it didn’t look like the they’d ever stop making money bringing the rabid fan base the best in sweaty men in small pants pretending to fight.

 And then Vince got greedy. First they tried to bring the world two billion-dollar flops in the XFL and a restaurant in Manhattan. I really don’t know from the restaurant except that it crashed and burned, but being a fan of football, I watched the XFL saga with fascinated horror. Going against the NFL is a rum’s game - ask the USFL and President Trump - but the XFL was set up to actually take down - or pretend to, keeping with the wrestling theme - the pro football juggernaut.

 The lads from at Old School Wrestling can sum it up better and more entertaining than I could. After all was said and done, the league lost $138 million dollars with their deal with NBC, it cost Vince himself $69 million, and by the time the thing washed out, Vince was no longer a billionaire. In short order, the wrestling boom ate itself and money that could’ve been spent to give their employees some sort of health insurance security went to creditors. Even in the football league, the highest paid athlete made five grand a week and, of course, no health insurance for players.

 Now, I’m not ragging on the WWE or even professional wrestling. I firmly believe that one of America’s greatest contribution to world culture is professional wrestling - no, seriously - and a full understanding of the United States’ development and evolution, at least in the 20th century. But this is a fine example of how greed destroys whatever it touches. Call it capitalism’s inevitable outcome or whatever you want to call it, but this is now seen as How Things Are Supposed to Be.

 The last decade saw a plethora of long-running businesses go flat broke and have to shutter their doors. Financial experts blamed the death of Toys ‘R’ Us on Millennials not having kids and the spread of Amazon, for example, but the fact is the private equity companies - including Mitt Romney’s Ban Capital - cut and sliced everything they could in the run for more profits and less overhead. ‘Cause that’s all that matters.

 I used to do an internet streaming radio show with a libertarian who once tried to enlighten to me the evil of taxation in maybe the dumbest way possible. A friend of his, he said, worked at a private equity firm, putting in 80 hours a week, and because of taxation, she was only able to bring home $180 thousand out of the $200 thousand she “earned” each year. Needless to say, that didn’t cut it.

 But again, this is how the world is Supposed To Work. Providing a good consumers either need or really enjoy and in some way makes their lives a little better, that doesn’t even pretend to matter anymore. Taking care of your employees, paying them enough to live on and keep themselves hale-&-hearty because workers that aren’t living in terror of getting sick or a raise in rent are better workers, that’s not profitable.

 Well, it is profitable and a smaller, self-contained businesses can totally do that, but the American Way is to gobble up as much as possible for some reason. Instead of enjoying your wealth and the sense of stability never having to worry about which bill you’re going to have to skip this month or if your landlord is going to increase your went for whatever the hell reason, our society encourages the very richest to accumulate and horde as much wealth as possible. If you can step on someone’s face in the process, even better.

 And if you fail, no big worry. In 2008, Delta Airlines fired their CEO, Richard Anderson, after four months because the company lost over $70 million. Anderson nevertheless walked away with a severance package that included  over $11 million dollars plus a corner office on Peachtree Street in Atlanta. More recently, due to on-going scandals involving their 737′s, Boeing booted their CEO Dennis Muilenberg after ballooning losses and deadly crashes of two of their planes. They did punish him by denying his full severance package, though. Luckily, he still walks away with $60 million in stock options and pension benefits.

 So, what is the answer, I hear you say. Hell, I don’t know. These practices are an ongoing problem, but the acceptance of such behavior by the hoi palloi is even worse. We see this as natural and good, the American way. We elected a president who was born rich and was a big mover-&-shaker in a field his father already plowed, and companies under his control went bankrupt at least six times. Had he spent the last 50 years funding art galleries and weaving baskets, just letting the interest do it’s work, he’d arguably be richer than he is now.

 Is socialism the answer? Can capitalism be saved? Do we need to look for an entirely different paradigm when it comes to economic survival? Again, I don’t pretend to have any answers. Indeed, my whole approach to anarchistic theory isn’t searching for a specific end result way to “make things work” so much as using the tools I can live with to get by as best I can while maybe making the world a better place along the way. But since no one is ever really punished or suffers from such actions that have proven to be, at best, a crap game, we’ll see more of this.

 More profit, that’s all that matters.

[newyorkroleplay-blog1]

HUNTER THOMAS –

Birthdate: July 14th, 1989 ( 29 ) Gender and Pronouns: Male, he/him Hometown: New York, New York Neighborhood: Kingsbridge, The Bronx Occupation: Third Year Surgical Resident Faceclaim: Theo James Trigger Warnings: Drugs, Prostitution.

BIOGRAPHY –

There was something about the way the air tasted different to the privileged. It was coined to be more crisp, it was filtered a different way. Of course, that was all just a figment of Hunter Thomas’ imagination but no one could ever tell him differently. It was something about the way the silver spoon had always dangled from his mouth. From a young age, he always knew something about him was better than everyone else. He remembered his first day of school vividly. That morning, his driver, Jake, had taken him to get his morning pancakes in Midtown. They were blueberry and oats like always, with strawberry preserves. His next step was going to school. Hunter had spent days picking out the right outfit. He’d ended up with a three-piece suit, minus the jacket. He liked it he looked suave. His father had warned him that it might not go over well with the rest of the kids, but Hunter ignored his father’s wisdom, and went anyways. He wanted to put his best food forward, and that was how he was going to do it. Of course his father was right. Every kid that set eyes on the boy picked fun at his outfit. They had him in tears at lunch, and by two when school was done—he was the first kid out the door, running towards Jake. In the back of the black sedan, he almost immediately began crying. He didn’t know what that felt like. He was at the top, and immediately he was shot to the bottom. The boy didn’t like the feeling; he never wanted to feel that way again. So as soon as he got back to his house, after a bowl of feel better ice cream him and his mother went out and redefined his wardrobe.

The next day, he was dressed like everyone else, but instead of being teased for half a suit, he was teased for trying to hard. Hunter felt like no matter what he did, he couldn’t win. But, with some stroke of luck, but the end of the day, one person was willing to sit next to him. He didn’t know if it was because his teacher felt bad for him, or if he was actual friendship, but on that day, he met Sam White, and they were together from then for the rest of their lives. Whether it was starting club soccer, or cheating the score in tennis, they were conjoined at the hip. And it would remain that way the pair’s entire high school career. When one didn’t study, the other would be the answer sheet, when one got turned down by a girl, the other would cancel plans and they would go and terrorize the country club, forgetting how to properly play golf for the weekend. When one family would go on a vacation, they would take the other boy too. They said it took a village, and for those two boys, it was true. When Hunter got into Yale, Jake got in to Princeton. It would be the first segment of the pair’s lives that they would ever actually spend any time apart. Without the other boy, he had to finally to find his own feet, and his own way.

A year into university, and his parents told him he was going to be a big brother. The news came form left field. He had been an only child his whole life, and when he left they were suddenly pregnant? Either they were extremely happy he had left and were throwing big parties every single day, or they wanted to start over with a new child when the other one left. Eight more weeks, and they found out it was twins. Twin girls. Almost instantaneously he was jealous. They would have a support system, a sibling, someone to share the struggles of life with, when he had to search for that, but they wouldn’t have to. It wasn’t until years later, and multiple family vacations and holidays missed that his father explained to him that the girls were an accident. They didn’t want a new family without him. That made the boy feel better and he returned going home every once in awhile, but still wasn’t a huge part of their lives. He had his own life now, one he needed to grow, and venture out on his own. He needed his own path. Hunter didn’t realize he wanted to be doctor until his third year of University. He had changed his major four times, before finally deciding to stick with Biochemistry. With that as the root he could do a lot with it. He could teach university in another country, become a doctor, join Doctors Without Borders—the possibilities were endless. He had in an elective humanities class when he decided he wanted to help people who had gotten themselves in a rough spot. He had never been in one, so he couldn’t know by experience, but he could help others.

Medical School and Doctors Without Borders, a good plan for anyone. Applying and getting in was a process. So many background checks and essays, he didn’t know what free time was. But it was worth it when he got the letter he was accepted into the Eastern Caribbean program. He would be healing kids is a shack fancied as a hospital without AC and he had never been more excited. Of course he was leaving his family, his country, everything—but it was worth it. All of this was worth it. Teenage Hunter  would have shot down the idea. He wouldn’t be caught dead without shoes. Adult Hunter  had a sparkle in his eye. Now with a sponsor for Medical School, it couldn’t have come quick enough. What felt like two minutes after getting accepted into the program, everything changed. A call from his father, and his world was turned upside down. It was time to submit the funds for his first year, and suddenly there were no funds. His father had made a bad deal, invested money unwisely, and suddenly there was none. He didn’t have money to go anywhere, and it was looking like he might not ever again. Cut off, and he hadn’t even done anything wrong. The boy hadn’t wanted a day in his life, the silver spoon he was born with always sort of just hung there, and now he was wanting. He didn’t save money. He didn’t know how. He had his trust fund, but his dad kept hinting like maybe even that wouldn’t be his for long. He had four years of Medical School and no way to pay for it.

Instead of doing what a normal person would, take out a loan or anything else, he did what his brain told him to do, drop out. He could get a job, make some money then go back. It wasn’t forever, or at least that’s what he told himself. New York golden boy was crumbling before his own eyes, and he couldn’t stop the downward spiral. It was a few months before his prepaid rent finally ran out, and the boy was homeless, so he went to his first instinct, his friends. He had a few, and they were kind enough to help him stay, but they didn’t want any part of him. He was working as a cook, and that wasn’t the social bump that any of them wanted. He only lasted a few weeks there before he left. Their lifestyles were so drastically different they had nothing in common anymore. Nothing to talk about, commiserate about, and the only nice thing Hunter had left to his name was his car, and it spent most of it’s time in the driveway. Moving from there, he moved in with a friend from work. What he thought would be hard was suddenly easier than he realized. He found common ground, even with his fancy car, and well, the guy smoked a lot of weed and that never hurt. Cannabis to numb what he thought was a painful existence was just the thing he needed, until he got more interested in the whole system. He wanted to know how it worked, how people stayed on honest, and well, everything. He wanted to know everything. He had never been interested in drugs before, but now the schematic of the business intrigued him. Hunter found his way to parties, where he would meet new people who turned out to be well different. Women he’d never take a second glance at, he now didn’t care. He had no self respect at this point, why not sink a little lower.

You’d think smoking and drinking every night would start to wear on a person, in more ways than one. But it didn’t for Hunter. It helped him forget, and other people were paying for his drinks, hell, other people were paying for the drugs, so why not. Anything to dull the present, and get him out of his mind was good for him. It was a while before he started to figure out the older women that were paying for his drinks would pay for more than that. An embarrassing amount of time really, or on the other hand, the standard amount of time for a once well off boy to lose all dignity. They’d pay for sex, and if he was good at anything it was that. They’d pay for his company, they’d pay for his time, and soon enough he had a little scheme running, and maybe he could make enough money to find his way back to his old life, the one his father had taken away. Well into a year later, things were looking up. While, his love life, if you could call it that, was more complicated than he wanted it to be, juggling way more than he should have been, he was stockpiling money. He made it a point not to pay for anything. He didn’t pay for food, clothes, rent– nothing. If he had to buy it he just went without. It was easier that way, and it got him to where he wanted to be quicker.

Sneaking in and out of houses should have been fun. Going by the dead of night, or when husbands were on vacation or work. Pretending to be the pool boy, only to know nothing about cleaning pools other than raking the leaves out of water. For anyone else it might have been, for someone who depending on not being caught for an income source, not so much. Hunter realized he was flying too close to the sun the moment he missed his time window and instead of sneaking, he was being chased out with a gun. That was the day he finally stopped. Cutting his losses however, was anything but that. Saving every time, he’d saved enough to go back to med school, enough to finally get his life back, leaving his past behind him was something he was more than keen to do. A letter of inquiry back to the Med School he’d dropped out of, and a bartending job for the time it took hear back, he finally felt good. He no longer felt dirty or like he was somebody’s secret. He was finally himself. Hunter was finally back living on his own, the only thing reminiscent from what felt like his past life was the car he drove. He’d bought it himself and he couldn’t find it himself to get rid of it, and he probably never would, not at this point. He wasn’t low anymore, he wasn’t hurting for money, he had a new leaf, hell a new tree, and nothing was going to stand in his way, not anymore.  

PERSONALITY –

( + ) charming, intelligent, loyal. ( - ) manipulative, seductive, weak willed.