#ipad tips for seniors

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iPad Tricks for Beginners. Let’s check out 6 iPad tricks if you are new to using one. Also, if you are planning to give this to your grandparents then save yourself from the questions and just show them this video!

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remedy (viii) — sam winchester

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summary: you find sam ten years later, or he finds you, and things change forever— tags: major character deaths, 70% angst, i broke my own heart, case-fic, grieving, mourning, slow burn, praying, very long 13k, though it’s extremely fast paced. general surgeon!fem!reader.

ten years later

“Hey, Miss Moseley,” you call out as the older woman smiles at you and Emmy, it’s the same warm gesture every end of the week as you and your daughter pick up the groceries.

“Hey, sugar. How’s my little angel?” She leans down to kiss your daughter's head, seeing as you’d made it clear to every living, breathing person that no one gets to kiss her anywhere but there. “Oh and how’s Mark? I heard about the promotion he got, that’s wonderful, truly.”

It was unexpected, but yes, your husband got the biggest promotion of his career working at the law firm in town. Obviously you’ve never been prouder (except maybe when your oldest said ‘mama’ first) but it has been with its ups and downs. He stays later nights and it’s a lot more pressure, though now you don’t exactly live paycheck by paycheck, even if you haven’t been doing that anyways, but now you really don’t and you’re grateful. 

“He’s great, thank you. You heard right, I'm proud of his hard work.” She shakes her hand around as if to tell you ‘who cares’ and you know the woman well enough to guess what she’s about to say next.

“And the pay?” Yeah, you were right.

“We’re grateful, Miss Moseley. Thank you for checking in.” You reply politely as the last of her things are ringed up and the cashier shops her away. She kisses your cheek as a goodbye as you ring your things up.

“She means well, you know.” The eighteen year old says from behind the counter and you can’t help but laugh. Not exactly at her, but, you know.

“Of course she does, Missouri is a sweetheart, we’re just not too sure about things ourselves. How are you doing in your senior year?” You deflect.

“‘M okay. Just passed my English final and Maths— Biology and Chemistry are what's left.” She replies, waving to Emmy. She laughs, waving back with an enthusiasm she saves especially for teenage girls. “Hopefully I can actually graduate this year.”

“You will, sweetheart,” you reassure, the nickname coming easy to you. It always did. “I’m sure of it. Call me anytime, okay?” She nods with a smile, handing you back your card and you carry the bags to the car. 

Emmy’s holding onto your blue dress, with little white flowers all over it, the one you like to wear most of the time considering how hot it’s been getting. Though your older daughter doesn’t mind the heat (for whatever unholy reason), the rest of you are minding it a whole damn lot, you begged Mark to let you change practically your entire closet and he hadn’t argued much. 

When the bags are in the trunk you strap Emmy in the back and turn on a country playlist Mark had made you a while ago. Though when you listen to it it reminds you of your days in Stanford. 

As you park your jeep, you can feel your throat constrict and the tip of your nose redden. It’s hard not to notice the shiny black impala in your drive way. And it is there. Just there. Who put it there? Why would the universe torture you like this? What the hell even kind of joke is this—

“Mommy?” Emmy whines out, clearly starting to feel the effect of the heat with the A/C working only halfway. 

“Yeah, baby.”

“Wanna show Daddy.” She says as she waves her iPad to show you the drawing she made. You should, in fact, go inside. And find out what the hell he’s doing in your house. 

When you take Emmy’s hand it takes everything in you to control your breathing. You’ve been better than when you were in college. It had been— a rough couple of years to say the least, but you powered through them with a determination you didn’t know you had in you. Then you started your internship and found Mark, you had dated for a year before he proposed and of course you had said yes. Now, he’s coming back and he’ll— God, you just know that he’s going to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to bring together. 

Emmy runs through the door and straight to her dad with a yell. “Baby, no shouting.” You lecture loosely, shutting the door behind you as the three men in your living room stand up to greet you, Emmy already forgetting about her drawing and running up to her room.

And that’s when you decide how you should approach it. It’s the only way nothing will turn sour. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You eye your husband, leaning in to kiss his cheek. You haven’t even looked at them yet but their presence is all consuming that you actually gulp before Mark puts a hand in your back so you’re facing them.

You find his eyes first. And it looks like he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire time. You don’t hear a single damn thing your husband is saying because you and Sam are staring into the other’s eyes in a way that makes you think you may be cheating right in front of him. 

Sam’s changed so drastically that it brings you to a violent halt. His hair’s the first thing you notice, it’s grown to just above his shoulder, and it’s tamer, no more of that shaggy haircut he had ruffled everywhere. It fits him with the black suit he has on, that and his height. You’ve grown maybe an inch, he looks so much taller. Maybe you’re imagining it, maybe he just looks that good, either way, it’s mesmerizing.

When Mark says your name twice you snap out of it, shaking your head with a hum.

“Agents Plant and Page.” Agents who the fuck now?

“Excuse me— what?” Your husband narrows his eyes at you, but when you don’t budge he lets out a small awkward laugh. 

“I’m sorry, agents, it’s the heat, really bad this week and she gets these migraines.”

Sam nods, completely professional and understanding as he talks to your husband, “We understand. I know how migraines can be,” yeah, ‘cause you used to have them, “it’s no problem. We should get going, we’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

“Oh. I thought you said you wanted to talk to my wife. I can go get the bags from the car, leave y’all to it.”

“That’s really not—”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to cut Sam off, “Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

Mark kisses your lips this time and you’re stunned for a second before kissing back, but it’s brief and he nods at the gentlemen in politeness before leaving. You’re left with both of them. “Dean,” You announce shakily, “Sam.” 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean smiles, like it’s nostalgic to see you, and you suppose it is. You’re not angry with either of them, especially not Dean. Despite his flirty nature, he hadn’t been rude to you and he’d respected you every time you met him. He moves past the coffee table to take your hand but you, to your absolute fucking surprise, pull him in for a hug. 

Dean’s grown up too. He looks it, his voice is way lower, his stubble and those damn suits they're both wearing. He lets out a laugh, hugging back. “Haven't seen you in ages.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, releasing your grip to place a quick kiss in your hair. When he moves away, Sam’s standing behind him. He looks— all 6 foot something of him— awkward and unsure and it might be the most heartbreaking thing you’ve seen. Sam’s changed in appearance, he’s grown up, sure, but at Stanford he was confident. He wasn’t cocky but he knew his stuff and didn’t back down, this Sam’s curling up into himself the second you came in the room (or when you first bothered to look at him anyway). 

“Hey, Sam.” You smile, repeating the same gesture you had with Dean, except it’s different, so so different with him. His hand’s on your waist, yours wrapped around his neck. The same way you hug everyone else. Then why does his embrace feel more intimate? And his cologne, God. 

He pulls away a few seconds later (maybe, who know, it could have been hours). 

“We didn’t know—”

“Yeah, I figured as much with the whole agents thing.” You’re not stupid, you’ve seen the news, Dean and Sam are wanted in some states, for a long list that you never bothered checking for the sole reason that you never thought you’d see them and you had such an exceptional picture of them in your head that you didn’t want to ruin it.

But the truth is, you also don’t believe that they would do it. Sam and Dean wanted for theft? Murder? you don’t buy it. Sam had told you how dangerous his job was, you know it has to come with consequences. 

“So why are you here?”

“We’re investigating something.” You frown. No animal attacks here as far as you know.

“Investigating what?”

“There was a girl. She died in the neighborhood last year, Carla.” 

Your face falls and you cross your arms in front of your chest. “Get out.” Dean’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in tone. “Get out, both of you.”

“Hey—”

“No, you’re joking. You came in here to ask my husband about his dead niece. And you made him think you’re fucking FBI, which is illegal by the way, Mr. Stanford Lawyer. And for what? Is this all just for fun?” You’re praying your voice doesn’t get too loud but you can’t help the pit of anger in your stomach. They can’t do this. They can’t.

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Sam speaks up, his eyebrows furrowed together. Sam speaks in a much lower tone than he did in Stanford. It’s less urgent, more patient and understanding. He’s listening more than he is talking. It’s a noticeable change from the man you once knew, “we’re trying to find out what happened to her, I swear. We’re here to help.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but there haven’t been any animals around lately so this isn’t up your alley— which by the way, fuck you both.” You don’t remember ever being this immature but damn it, do the Winchesters get a ride out of you. “You’re both lying to my husband and expect me to do what? Welcome you with open arms?” The fact that you did goes unsaid.

There’s a deadly kind of silence that overcomes the three of you. You’re waiting for an explanation, they’re looking at each other like they don’t want to give one, and your oldest daughter just woke up from her nap and is walking down the stairs. She’s on the last step, rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she notices the two big men in suits and frowns. “Mommy…” she mumbles, clearly ready to go back upstairs.

At least the kid has good instincts. “Hey, sweetheart.” You smile slightly, leaving both of them in the living room to walk over to her, kneeling down. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

“Sound. Where’s daddy?”

“Outside. You wanna go and play with Emmy or are you gonna go back to sleep?” She shrugs, looks back at Sam and Dean then you, questions written all over her pretty little face. “Those are the police, they’re trying to help us. It’s okay, you can go back upstairs and I’ll bring you a snack, okay?” She nods and you get up, kiss her head, and let her run back upstairs.

When you face them, not moving closer, they both get the message. You want to say it’s easy, watching them walk to the front door, kicking them out, losing Sam again. But it isn’t. And you can’t help what you do next. 

“Sam,” it’s just his name. That’s all you said, but God, you can practically feel how tense he just got, standing in place. He looks at Dean who nods in understanding and walks out of the house. Sam faces you, you’re closer than you think you should be.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Or Mark. And— Dean and I, we had no idea this was your house or that she was your niece—”

“Mark’s niece.”

“Right. We didn’t know. We asked around and they gave us Mark's last name, we thought it was a coincidence. And there’s no pictures—”

“I don’t like hanging pictures in the house.” You cut him off, not sure why you’re confessing like it’s a sin, but the need to explain yourself to Sam has apparently not gone away completely. He nods in understanding and sighs. “I didn’t mean to kick you guys out, I just hate how much you’ve lied to me, and I don’t even know why, I don’t even know what it’s about.”

He slips up, “Baby, I wish I could tell you—”

“You don’t get to call me that.” Maybe it’s Stanford all over again. Have you really grown up? Have you really changed for the better? Will you ever be able to let go of Sam? You haven’t thought about him for a long time, but seeing him in front of you— in fact you haven’t thought of him since you two broke up. Maybe you’re not mentally ready for this.

But more than that, you’re not letting anyone get between you and your husband.

“I know.” He groans, rubbing a hand over his face, “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too. I hope you guys find out what happened with Carla.” 

Sam’s about to say something. A rebuttal, probably. Maybe then you can both have an actual conversation. But he decides against it and opens the door, walking out. 

Wouldn’t be the first time.

You see him nod at Mark and Dean end the conversation with your husband to get back in the impala. You watch them drive off before shutting your eyes, grounding yourself. You need to calm down. Obviously, you told Mark that you talked to someone before, and had a brief relationship with them, it wasn’t a secret, but you don’t think he knows that it’s the same guy who just pretended to be FBI and talked to him about his niece. 

“What did they ask about?” Your husband asks as he gets inside, Emmy on his right while he's holding two hands full of groceries. 

“Carla. You didn’t tell them she was your niece?” Now that you notice it, they were surprised to find out Carla's in any way related to you and Mark. He shrugs and moves to the kitchen but you follow him with a frown. “Why?”

“‘Cause they wouldn't take it seriously. The police thought I was overreacting since we were related but the FBI actually listened, and they believed me. I don’t want them to think emotions are taking over.” And the mocking way he says the word makes your heart clench.

You fell in love with Mark pretty quickly— or, he fell in love with you. And you eventually did too, with the sweet gestures and the kind comments, he was an incredible man, an even better husband that you’re proud to call yours. But he also had some issues, and trouble when it came to his family. While you guys do live in the same neighborhood as them, he doesn't like them. And for good reason, they're assholes. But he does love them.

He isn’t actually an ‘emotional guy’ and to label him as such— well, Mark is old-school. He won’t do well with that. His manhood and all that— and you’re not even saying it in a condescending way, you know how he was raised, it’s the one thing he’ll never back down from. But he’s been so good to you over the past five years, you’ve had your ups and downs, of course you did, but you couldn’t think of a better husband.

Can you? Can you think of someone you’d love more and want to spend the rest of your life with more than Mark? The man who traveled all the way back to your home country to ask your father for your hand in marriage? 

“I’m— I’ll get started on dinner. They seem like good people, and they’re looking into it.” You smile slightly, leaning up to give him a quick kiss, putting the groceries away, your oldest daughter has come down to even help you and spend time with Emmy.

And maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should just take it to the grave, but God, you can’t help but call Gen’s number when it’s ten and you’re on your couch all alone. Mark is out with friends, your kids are in their room and you can’t stop yourself from calling a number you’d left abandoned for a year. An entire year. 

It rings once. Twice. And when you hear her voice through the speaker you bite back tears. “Hello?”

“Hey— hey, Gen.” A relieved sort of laugh comes from the other line and it eases you into the conversation if only a little.

“Hi, sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a while, how are Mark and the kids?” You were ready for an argument, and maybe that’s why you called in the first place, to get what’s been coming for you. You deserve it after you abandoned her when she needed you the most. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect normal with Gen. You don’t deserve it.

“Yeah. They’re okay. How about you and Rue?” As if the universe wanted to make a point, Rue, you guess, stole her mother’s phone from her hand and ran around with it, asking you how you’re doing and that she misses you. Rue’s almost six, but she’s as much of a troublemaker as she was at four.

“Rue’s fine!” She yells across the room, then she takes the phone and you can hear her better. “She’s great, just got into fifth grade, actually.” 

You smile, the tears running down your cheeks without your consent. “That’s— great, Gen.”

She picks up on the crack in your voice and sighs. “Sweetie. Why’d you call now? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I feel so bad I haven’t called and I promise, I’m so sorry, Gen. You know I love her and I didn’t mean to do this.” you cut yourself off, scared you’re talking over her, but she doesn’t speak, letting you continue. “And I miss you and my little niece. I miss Rue and the kids, of course, they also miss her and I’ve been such a—”

“Nuh, uh. None of that here. You were grieving.”

You scoff, a hand slapping the tears away. “No, you were grieving.”

“Jess was as much of my girlfriend as she was your best friend. I’ve known her longer, but she was always your soulmate, and I never, for a second, held that against you.” It hurts knowing that what she’s saying is true. You don’t want to believe her because what have you done for her to love you this way? Unconditionally.

“I know. I wanted to be there for you but I couldn’t even say her name and I’m, I’m so scared. Even now, I’m always so scared, and I think about her all the time.”

“I think about her too…” you want to say you’re imagining the crack in her voice, that it’s a slip up that means nothing. But truthfully, Gen’s only ever cried with you. She’s not close to her parents and despite her multitude of friends, most of them had drifted after college. Not the three of you. Not you, Jess and Gen. 

You wish you could say it stayed the same after Jess passed away, but you did leave her. and you can’t find it in yourself to say that you’d do it differently. Because you used your grief to be a good mother this past year, you spent so much time with the kids. Even with Carla gone too. You and Mark kept it together.

You’re not sure how seeing Sam broke you the most of the events.

“She loves you. I think— we just have to remember her love, right?” Gen sniffles and you imagine her nodding her head, a hand running through her hair like she usually is when she’s sad.

“Yeah. Yeah, sweetie, but—” Gen breathes heavily through her nose. “But why’d you call? You haven’t— it’s been a year, what’s going on?” 

“I, uh, saw someone. Today.”

“Who?”

“Sam Winchester.” 

“The criminal?”

Explaining to Gen about Sam pretending to be FBI and how he came to ‘investigate’ Carla’s death after being ‘wanted’ in a few states almost gives her a heart attack. You want to share her worry about the safety of your family when he’s in proximity, but Sam looked all but broken when he was standing at your doorstep. 

“So I kind of threw them out and now they’re giving Mark hope again that they’ll find out what happened, but just— it sucks. He’s such a liar and I had no idea.” 

“Yeah, but, maybe you should report it to the police, you know?”

You frown, shaking your head. “Police? He isn’t even wanted in here. I think it’s in… I don’t know Tennessee?”

“Still. He could be dangerous and he knows where you live now.” You aren’t sure what to think. Is she right? Is Sam dangerous? He doesn’t look it. 

“Sure. Sure, Gen, I’ll see what I can do. I just, wanted to talk to you and maybe see if we can go out, you know? If you want, if you’re free.” 

“Yeah. Of course. Next Friday? We can go to Lilo’s Diner, if you want.“ Before Jess passed away when you got married, you couldn’t help but find an apartment next to here’s and Gen’s. In hindsight, it was an impulsive decision since Mark told you to choose the location, but you couldn’t help wanting to be next to her. But the real kicker was that before you settled down, you had completely forgotten that where you are right now, Lawrence, Kansas, is Sam’s hometown. 

“Yeah. That’s good, I don’t mind.” You both say your goodbye’s, and it’s a little tear-filled, but it gets the job done. 

You’re not completely convinced that you’ll give Sam in, but you know you need to consider it. If your daughters are ever in danger… you don’t know you’d do. You sigh, getting up and dimming the lights. “God, I wish you could— I need help.” You’re done crying, you just need help, “just— please, i wish I could just— I love him but I don’t even know if he’s it for me, I wish I could think without him in the picture, fuck.”

And if cursing while trying to pray isn’t message enough for you to just go to bed, you don’t know what is.

“Mommy? Mommy!” You stir from your sleep. It’s been forced upon you to be a light sleeper since you’ve had your kids, and one of them shouting your name alerts you. 

Emmy’s jumping on your chest, “Door. Mommy, door.” You groan, running a hand through your untamed hair and getting up groggily. At least she’s in a good mood for whatever reason.

You put on a shirt that you haven’t crumpled in your sleep and take a hair tie with you downstairs as you attempt to make it look decent, swinging the door open before you can ask who it is. 

Oh. “Sam?”

“Good morning.” There’s no Dean this time, just Sam. Just very tall and intimidating Sam looking at your with the most innocent look you’ve ever seen but you still can’t help clutching your daughter to your leg, mumbling about her going upstairs but she doesn’t listen. “I— I’m sorry, I came to tell you about… Mark.”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head in question and confusion because mark is upstairs, right? He’s in your bed, right next to you. You just hadn’t checked, that’s all. “What about him? He’s fine.”

Sam frowns, loosening his tie. Maybe you should loosen the collar around your neck. Where is Mark? He was just out with friends last night and you’d gone to sleep after praying, you must’ve missed his call telling you he’ll spend the night elsewhere. Except he’s never done that. Mark’s never spent the night anywhere other than right next to you since you’ve gotten married.

But it’s fine, you’re overreacting and Sam is here to tell you Mark was found drunk or something. He won’t get arrested. You need him. His kids need him. “Hey, hey, you with me? Mark’s— I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“What do you mean?” You’re out of breath even if you’ve just gotten out of bed, “what do you mean you’re sorry? What did you do? Where is he?”

Emmy’s tugging on your pants, even if you can hardly feel it, but you do feel Sam stepping into your house, his hands moving closer before you flinch a way from his touch, in a result Emmy’s hands is forced away from your leg. You apologize to your little girl, leaning down to scoop her in your arms. 

“Mark’s—”

“Shut up, Sam. Stop it. Where is he?”

You can see his heart breaking, you can feel it. Maybe from his eyes alone, even. But it doesn’t even register to you, because why is he sad? What does he have to be upset about? 

“They can’t find him. He’s… gone.”

“Gone where? Is he at work? It’s— only eight or something—”

“It’s eleven.” Your breath hitches and you shake your head. What does that even mean coming from a liar? Sam’s nothing but a liar, he always has been he’s— 

“Where are the police?” he says your name, soft and you shout, “Where are the police?” Your daughter flinches at your tone and cuddles her head into your chest. “Don’t— I’ll report you. You and Dean, if you don’t tell me what you did. What did you do?”

It’s futile. They didn’t do anything. Deep down you know that. 

But you’re not sure if you can listen to ‘deep down’ when your husband is not next to you. Calming and comforting you. 

“Sam,” you breathe, putting her down, “Sam, where is he?” He doesn’t step closer, brushes a hand down his face, “Sam.” You try, one last time before you’re sobbing, hitting at his chest. “Where is he? Where is— Mark, where is he! Sam!” 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t tell you that everything will be okay and that Mark’s only gone for the day. He holds your body close to his and you bury your head into his chest, your tears wet against your face as you fist your hands in his shirt. Your eyes burn, they’re hard to open. Maybe it’s for the best. 

Your world doesn’t spin often, but when it does, you have Mark. You quit your first job, Mark’s there. You’re low on money, Mark’s there. Your kids seem like they hate you, he’s by your side.

What are you supposed to do now? What are you supposed to do other than pray for him back?

Because you did this. You prayed yesterday and now look what happened, he’s gone. Just like you wished for, even if you’d don’t really mean it then. You mean it now, to have him back.

Sam lets go of you eventually, to get you a glass of water and coax your daughter into her room. You’re not sure what the time is, just that your eyes couldn’t get more swollen if you tried, and you will. 

“Here.” He hands you a cup and you don’t look up at him as he takes the seat next to you again making you briefly wonder if you’re having an out of body experience. You could be. You must be. 

“I should call the police.” You say through sniffles and Sam sighs. “You should… go, I guess. Since you’re not real police.”

“I’ll stay. We talked to them anyways and they think we’re FBI so— ”

“But I’ll tell them.” It’s low. Defeated. Sam doesn’t speak for a second and you don’t want to imagine the look on his face. You can’t. “Just go.”

His scoff shouldn’t be as comforting as it is. “No. You’re not pushing me away when you need me.” He tilts your head up, his finger hooking under your chin, “I’m not leaving you again. Never again.”

“It’s— it’s not like that, right now. Sam, go.”

“Tell them. Call the police, make them come here, and tell them I’m not FBI, tell them my real name, I don’t care, they can arrest me when I know you’re okay.” 

Is it fair to say you never want to be okay if it means Sam leaving? “My kids.” You whisper, as a thought. Something you put out there. 

“Dean can take care of them if you want us to go to the police.” You nod, touching your cheek to check if you’re still crying. Your eyes are so raw you can’t even tell at this point. Sam takes his phone out to call Dean but you hold his wrist. 

“Gen. Call Gen.” He gapes in surprise, is about to argue, but seems to see something on your face because he pulls up her number from your phone. You think she’s not going to respond as the phone starts to run out of rings but when she finally does you collapse with a sigh, one hand on your heart, the other holding Sam’s arm in support. And you’re fucking sat down.

“Gen. Hey, it’s Sam. Sam Winchester.” Shit. Shit. She doesn’t like Sam. Shit. “Yeah— oh. Yeah, she threatened already. Look, Mark’s gone and we can’t find him, she’s asking if you can come over and watch her kids.”

You don’t hear the conversation. You don’t hear except white static as you leave Sam on the couch and go to your kids’ room. Your oldest is on her IPad. The youngest is playing with her blocks. They both look at you expectantly for food and you give them a watery smile. “Aunt Gen is coming over. She’ll get you breakfast, okay?”

They both seem pleased, but your oldest isn’t stupid. She’s only four but Mark had been gifted as a child. Not enough to skip grades, but he was intelligent, both emotionally and academically. And apparently your oldest has inherited that because she walks up to you with a smile.

“You’re okay, Mommy.” You’re not sure if it’s a question or not but you wipe your face in case it’s showing anything other than that fact. “We will have fun with Genny.”

“No, baby, I’m going somewhere and then we’ll have fun with Genny, but you’re staying alone first.”

“I will take care of Emmy.” Your heart clenches as you nod quickly, taking her in for a hug so she doesn’t see the tears. 

“Good job, Jess.” Even saying her name. She’s your daughter, she isn’t even really Jess but saying her name… you can’t do this right now.

When you get back down dressed for the station, Sam’s in the kitchen cooking. “I’m dressed. we should go.”

He looks back to see you are, in fact, dressed. He hands you a cup of water, “drink this and we’ll go.”

You frown but oblige anyway. You’re a doctor, it isn’t hard to tell what he’s doing, with the amount of tears you’ve cried, you’d think you’re dehydrated too. “I’ll text Gen that there’s omelets. She can make sandwiches when she’s here.”

You acknowledge the words, handing him the cup. He locks the door behind him just as Gen parks her car and it’s the calmest you’ve felt all morning. At least your kids will be safe. You give her a hug that lasts about two seconds then walk to the Impala as fast as you can, certain you won’t be driving in this condition.

The police station is a whirlwind of screaming and yelling. No one’s telling you enough, you need to know now, and you might have accidentally called Sam his real name once, though you’re hoping no one caught it. Four hours later you’re crying and shaking your head in the lobby. 

The lady at the desk tries to calm you down while Sam talks to them inside, “Please, Miss, you need to remain calm while we—”

“My husband is gone, just off the face of the earth, how the fuck does that happen?”

“We’re not sure.” You look back hoping it’s Sam but find an older looking guy. Darker skin and maybe even a little taller than Sam? Though that must be impossible, they could be the same height. “His friends all say he was on his way home the last time they saw him and we found his car by a neighborhood next to yours but it was parked. He could have just went somewhere else.”

“I called him a thousand times on my way here and Mark never spends the night out of the house.”

“Have you considered a different possibility?” He asks, taking a step closer and you suddenly get intimidated by the demeanor if not his height, “maybe he did it on purpose. To spend the night somewhere else.”

“What on Earth is wrong with you? Are you all really that bad at your job that the only excuse you can come up with is him cheating? Who the hell gives you the right to—”

“We’re merely covering all our basis.”

“No you’re a bunch of—” Someone clears their throat so loudly it makes you jump. Jump right into their arms— into Sam’s arms.

“She’s worked up, considering.” The police, whoever the fuck that man is nods understandably and you’re ready to elbow Sam as you stare daggers at the one in front of you. “But she doesn’t make a point. It’s not likely Mister Davis is having an affair,” he moves your body out of the way to stand toe-to-toe with the man, “and even if he is, do you think it’s smart to threaten his wife with it?”

“Threaten? You’ve got it wrong, Agent.”

“Please don’t speak to Misses Davis again, it’s clear you can’t handle this case.” Sam places both hands on your shoulders to walk you out of the station and when you’re finally alone you slap his hands away. 

“What the hell? What about Mark—”

“They don’t have anything on him. We called everyone, we tried to track his phone but it’ll take a while. Me and Dean tried tracking it before I came over anyway and we couldn’t find it, they won’t have better luck. They usually put them in warehouses so I told them to check all the ones in the area. Dean is on it too. Look, we need to talk.” 

“Warehouse— what? Does now seem like the time for talking?” You scold. Even Sam's speaking in code.

“Did you… wish for something yesterday?”

Your heart slows. “Like what?”

“Like… wanting him gone.”

Your heart stops.

You tend to run things over in your head a lot.

“Mark? Mark, come back in, the kids don’t need—”

“No way. If my angel says she needs a cookie, we’re getting her a cookie.” You sigh affectionately, a smile threatening to split your face open. He’s been so good since you’ve gotten married, but you thought that would all stop the second you told him you’re pregnant. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s been more engaged, beautiful with your kids, even years later. 

He’s the best father you could have dreamed of. He’s a damn good husband too, but Mark is… complicated. His family is complicated. He grew up in such a toxic environment that during the first year of dating him, he’d cursed you out in front of his entire family. You got married anyways, he’s a good man, and you know he is. He’s changing slowly, trying to better himself because he has you. 

And it isn’t even something he’s just ‘saying’, you know that because now? Four years later, Mark would eat up anyone in his family that says one word about you, whether it be one of his sisters or one of his brothers’ wives.

Two hours later Mark comes back with Jess and two boxes of cookies. When you put Jess to bed he hands you a box of your favorite chocolate, the expensive kind. And it isn’t like you’re broke, you’re doing okay to spoil yourselves every once in a while, but you’re also saving up for when the kids grow up since you know they’ll be more demanding than they are now. So while it didn’t put a dent in anything, it was unnecessary. But he did it. He did it and he kissed you and you’re pretty sure that was the night Emmy came into your lives. Or would be coming in nine months.

Sometimes you wish you could stop ruining things over in your head.

“Come back to me, fuck, come back.” Sam’s saying your name over and over as your eyes flutter open. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah.” You groan, a hand coming up to touch your head before he stops you. “What happened?”

“You blacked out and fell on the concrete. They did an X-ray, it came back okay but you’re not eating enough. Don’t touch your head though.”

“Why?” you reply stubbornly though you're grateful he cared enough to get you to the emergency room as fake FBI. Speaking of, you guys should probably head out. “Doesn't matter, let's go home. I'll pay the—”

“I already paid, let's go.” you frown as he helps you up. Thankfully, you don't need any assistance walking, not that Sam gets the message, his hand on your lower back as he nods at the receptionist.

The car ride is as silent as you expected it to be with your multitude of questions. About Mark, Sam, your kids. About everything. The most important one is where the hell is Mark, but every time you think of that you're back to crying. The second is where did Sam get the money to cover your bill? Seeing as he's not a lawyer or anything. 

“You okay?” He asks, giving you a glance before his eyes are back on the road. He must realize how stupid the question is because he follows it up with: “We’re going to find him. I promise.”

“Yeah.”

“Dean’s already—”

“How? How are you and Dean— I don’t even know if Dean went to college,” no offense, he just doesn’t look the type, “and you all but dropped out of law. On what earth will the two of you find my husband?”

“Look—”

“Real answers!” You scream, slamming your hand down on your leg, the friction from your jeans sting as you take it back. “Real answers Sam, or I swear God…”

He sighs, parking on the side of the road. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“You passed out.”

“Try me, because my husband is missing and I left my kids with Gen who I haven’t seen in almost a year and now I’m sitting next to Sam Winchester from Stanford—”

“It’s a curse.”

“What.”

When someone says something is a curse they usually follow it up with trying to sell you some oils for way too high that will ‘break the curse’. But that’s not what Sam is doing. Sam is talking to you like it’s logical. Like he’s sane. He’s telling you, with a straight fucking face, that monsters are real and that after he was born here a witch placed a curse on the town.

He’s not trying to sell you anything except that this is the truth. To him, this is real. And he’s looking at you like you’d be stupid not to believe that a witch placed a curse on an entire town so that whatever someone wishes, it comes true.

You wished for better mental stability everyday but that never came.

“Sam,” you sigh sympathetically, “look, I don’t know what happened before you graduated, but you’re a good man, you should not let—”

“What? No! What I'm telling you is real! Monsters and werewolves, vampires, witches, they’re all real. Now you need to think before you answer, did you wish for anything yesterday? Anything regarding Mark?”

“Wish? Are you— no! Of course not.”

“Please, you need to level with me here. Anything at all.” You should get out of the car, slam the door right in his face, and tell everyone that Sam Winchester— straight A student in Stanford— has officially gone crazy. And you’re witnessing it first hand. 

You don’t end up doing any of that except for slamming the door in his face. That, he deserves. For lying and for finding you and giving you hope about your husband when he’s obviously gone crazy and for making you leave your daughters when you could be with them right now. 

He gets out of the car, and when you glance over at him he looks like he’s going to try and convince you of something again but his eyes widen. When you face whatever it is that he’s staring at— it’s just Missouri.

“Missouri?” He asks, frowning and you start to notice that this is, in fact, his hometown. He probably knows a lot of the older locals. “What are you doing here? I thought we told you to stay inside ‘till we find whoever cursed the town.”

Now you’re really confused. Where on earth does get off playing with an old lady’s head? “I know you did not just call me old, sweetie.” 

What. The. Hell.

“See!” Sam can’t help but let out with a relieved sigh. As if that actually shows anything other than you’re seriously creeped out.

“No reason to be creeped, darling, but Sam’s right. Monsters exist and a witch did curse this godforsaken town.”

“How did you—”

“I’m psychic.” Right. And you’re Beyoncé. 

“I wouldn’t count on it. I heard you sing early in the morning and even the birds couldn’t take it.”

“Rude— and also how the fuck—”

“I can read minds. Though I don’t usually, it seemed like the only way to get you to believe poor Sam. He’s a good man,“ he seems to be getting told that a bunch, “and he only means to help. Him and Dean are hunters.”

Is the sun too hot? Probably, considering it’s the sun. Maybe you should sit in the shade. Or pass out. Passing out sounds better than finishing this conversation. Missouri sighs, a hand on Sam’s cheek. “It was good seeing you, sweetie. Get her home and tell her everything she needs to know. She gets migraines—”

“I know.”

“Good. Get her anything she needs but especially some cold air.” 

“To sum it up,” you gulp down the rest of your cup before facing Sam, “Monsters are real. You’re a hunter. Your dad died, and Dean never went to college?” 

“Sure, I guess. Is that all you got? That’s a very… random  summary.”

“Right but if Dean’s never went to college and Monsters are real, I think the apocalypse starting really doesn’t sound that far-fetched.” Apparently by monsters he also meant Angels. And prophets. And too many things he just told you— like Lucifer and Micheal the archangels and so so so many things. 

He chuckles, refilling your glass. “What is it with the Dean and college thing with you.”

You shrug, taking the cup with a small thanks. You’re probably going to need to go to the bathroom soon with how much he’s been keeping you hydrated. “I don’t know, he seems smart, I’m surprised ‘s all. can we call him and ask what he found yet?”

Sam’s face falls like you slapped him and he sighs. “The wish— I’ll tell you what I think happened, okay?” Not okay. “You wished for Mark to disappear or to go yesterday while he was coming back from the night out and the witch— the way her curse works is that she has demons working for her. Demons chained to this town to do her dirty work for her—”

“Sam, people wish for a million dollars everyday, they don’t actually get it.”

“These are demons, it isn’t ’you wish for something’, you get it. It’s ‘you curse someone out’, they get it.” You didn’t mean to curse him out. You hadn’t even really wished for anything, just prayed. And the praying wasn’t that serious. It wasn’t like you wanted Mark gone, you just wanted answers for whatever’s going on in your heart. “Carla,” Sam runs a hand over his mouth, like it’s paining him to tell you this, to explain to you why your niece died. “A teacher cursed her out in school the day before she was gone.”

No. No, there’s just no fucking way. Missouri is almost eighty something, why on earth would she lie, though?

“Please, I know it’s scary and it’s hard to believe but I need you to trust me. What did you wish for yesterday?”

“I— I don’t even remember—”

“Anything. Anything at all—”

“I wished he was out of the picture.” His breath hitches. Yours almost comes to a stop. “But— I wasn’t wishing, I was praying. I asked— I prayed that I could think clearly without thinking of him. I didn’t want him to go, Sam, I swear—”

His eyes soften as he pulls you to his chest, “I know. I know, sweetheart.” 

Maybe the crying won’t ever stop.

“Dean found the witch. Or at least he thinks. We can’t kill the demons until the witch breaks the chains so I’m going to go help him follow the lead, are you okay to stay alone?” Sam says when he comes back into the room after a short phone call with his brother.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not fine. You’re nowhere near fucking fine. You’re the furthest point away from ‘fine’. But Sam is going to… go kill demons? Play dress up with Dean? Who knows anymore. So you let him go with a goodbye and ’stay safe’. As you close the front door, you give it your back and Jess is standing there with her school book in hand. 

“Where’s Daddy?”

Oh. God. You don’t even— you can’t possibly think of a way to tell your kids their father is gone. The entire time Sam had explained the supernatural thing, not once had he brought up that Mark might still be out there somewhere. 

How do you tell your daughter you killed her father?

“Jess, dad’s out right now. He’s very sick, and we can’t see him ‘till he gets better.” She frowns, tilting her head in question— you’re sure you have no answers to cover it. “but ‘till then, we’ll…”

Maybe you should be holding yourself together a little more for your children. They shouldn’t see you break apart because who will take care of them? But it hits you. You’ve spent the whole day looking for Mark and being so sure he’s out there somewhere that you believed Sam when he said he was taken by a demon.

But the fact of the matter still stands. Mark is gone. Your husband is gone. 

And maybe it shouldn’t hit you so hard when you killed him.

The next four hours go by in a blur. Your kids are fine, they’re drawing and coloring. They’re happy they get to miss school today and you’re pacing the halls, wishing you’d taken up Gen on her offer to stay with you. How did she get through this? How did she get through this alone? 

You haven’t even called your parents, or Mark’s. His siblings. A funeral. This is so real. It’s happening, you’re losing— you lost your husband. He’s gone and you didn’t even get a warning. Where was your warning? 

Maybe you should lay down for a few hours. Your starting to see things move around in the windows.

It’s officially freak-out-hour. Twelve AM. You call Sam twice before he answers.

“I think my house is haunted.” You’ve never found your voice that shaky in your life.

“You what? Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine. In their room, but the lights keep flickering and I keep seeing something moving.”

“Shit. Do you have salt? A lot of salt?” 

“Some. Enough for food, I haven’t stocked up for a demon battle.”

“Get as much as you can and make a circle. Ghosts can’t cross salt circles.”

“What if it’s a demon?”

“There are— are you sure? Are you sure there’s something? Did you piss anyone off today?”

You think. Hard. “I don’t—” Oh. “The police station guy.”

“No, no. Fuck! Make the circle, get in it, I’m on my way.” He hangs up and the circle comes out uneven and sloppy. You’re shaking so much by the time you’re done you don’t notice it’s only small enough to fit your kids. When you go check on them, they aren’t in their room.

“Jess? Emmy?” Sam’s voice wakes you up from your nap against the hard wall. That’s why your head is pounding. “Hey, hey, where’s mommy?” That’s all you hear before his heavy steps run up the stairs and he finds you in the hallway. 

“Fuck. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You shake your head, hoping to ease him, though that’s the least of your concerns. “Are they okay? Are Emmy and Jess okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he breathes out, leaning down to engulf you in a surprising hug that you return with no hesitation. You were hallucinating. You never thought you’d be so thankful for hallucinating. “Are you,” he’s shaking. His words anyways, his hands are too still for your liking. “Are you okay? I tried calling but you didn’t answer, and I came here as fast as I could. I thought something happened to you—”

“I haven’t eaten, and I’m so tired—did, did you kill the witch?” You sound crazy. You sound stupid and twelve.

And yet, the second his soft, “Yes.” Is out, you visibly relax in his arms. He’s holding you, your head on his chest, and it’s the calmest you’ve felt in the past twenty four hours.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“How do I know you’re real? How do I know you’re not… a monster or possessed.”

“Tests,” he sighs. Sam always looked like he wanted to keep his real life away from you, keep you at a distance, so the more you ask, the more he feels a part of him breaking. He wanted better for you. 

“Shapeshifters burn up in contact with silver, like your ring,” he interlaces your fingers together and his skin doesn’t sizzle. “Demons show themselves if you say ‘Christo’.” You look up but there’s nothing. He’s still there. “Ghosts will leave the person they’re possessing if you hit them with rocksalt.” 

“They can possess people?”

“Only really powerful ones.” 

“There should be a crash course on monsters.” You frown, leaning in closer, like maybe you don’t need a crash course. Just him. Just Sam.

He lets out a small laugh, a polite one, but you feel it against your head and it brings you so much relief, you’re scared what you’re going to do when he’s gone.

Because he will be gone. He will go and he’ll leave you and you’ll have to deal with—

“Hey, hey, calm down for me. What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, but all it does is run tears down your cheeks, “I have to tell Jess and Emmy. Emmy’s so young and she wouldn’t understand, she’ll just want Daddy, what am I supposed to say, Sam? And Jess… she asked about him. I killed—.”

“No, stop it, don’t. You were thinking. A thought, that’s all. I bet he thought the same thing a hundred times, it’s normal, you’re married, it’s just unfortunate a demon heard yours.”

You’re still scared, that doesn’t really comfort you. You’re sharing your earth with demons. Demons. That came from hell. Which means hell, heaven, they exist and mark is in one of them right now. 

You end up telling your oldest with tears in your eyes and Jess comforts you instead of crying. She’s telling you ‘it’s okay’ and ‘daddy loves you’. And you’re thinking what you did to get such a beautiful and inspiring daughter. She even brushes your hair out of your face like you do for her when she’s crying. 

You tell her the same. Her daddy loved her, and that she should tell you how she feels when she’s decided. Anytime Emmy asks about Mark you tell her he’s up in heaven and she frowns. It’s fine, you didn’t expect her to get it this young anyways, but… it’s unfair that she has to.

The past 48 hours have been hectic to say the least, devastating, too. Sam hasn’t left your side during them. Despite him being tall and somewhat scary if you look at it from a four-year-old‘s point of view, your kids have only asked a couple of questions. You don’t think they noticed that he went from ‘police’ to ‘mommy’s friend’, and you’re grateful. 

Gen ran over to your house the second you called her to tell her what you know. You don’t get into detail, just that Mark’s gone. He’s— God, you can’t even say it, he passed away. What kind of shit term is that anyway? Passed? To where, heaven? Hell? How are you supposed to know? 

Does Sam know? If Sam told you angels are real it must be because he’s met them… right? And he met the archangels, surely he has connections— what are you saying! You’re talking about Sam having connections with God? Who, by the way, Sam didn’t mention.

Gen holds you as you sob into her arms in your own room, Sam sitting with your children. They’re so innocent and fragile, you don’t want them to see you crying incase they think they have to, but the truth is, you’re severely dehydrated and you’re sure you’re losing your job at the hospital since you haven’t called to say you’re not coming in. 

It’s a gut-wrenching 48 hours. Who knows what the next will bring.

When you sober up from the frenzy you’re in, you call your parents, then Mark’s siblings. His father died years ago and his mother has amnesia so that’s one less conversation you have to go through.

You only call his second oldest sister, she cries before you finish your sentence and promises she’ll tell the others. You can’t. You know you can’t. 

Gen tries to talk to you about Sam, you shut her down pretty quick. “Can you take the kids during the funeral?” 

“Sweetie, I should come with you…” You shrug just as Sam makes his way to the kitchen where you’re both talking. Gen shoots him daggers as he walks over to you, hand on both your shoulders. “What—”

“The kids are asleep, I think. Dean needs me back at the motel so I’ll go check on him then come back, does that sound okay?” You nod absentmindedly. All you heard was that Sam’s leaving, and even if every part of your body doesn’t want that, he’s been your rock through all of this, you know you have to let him go. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.” He places a kiss on your hair that helps you relax, like most of his touches do, and when he leaves the kitchen, Gen is right on his heel.

You hear them raise their voice and argue before he leaves. All you can think is that you hope the kids don’t wake up.

You hope you wake up from this nightmare.

Who decided black was a good color for funerals? It’s so… depressing. As if you all aren’t already dispiriting the entire house with your tears, now you’re all blending in with the kitchen supplies too. 

You hold his sisters the most, or they hold you, either way there’s some type of holding going on and it’s therapeutic for both of you. The oldest looks like she hasn’t stopped sobbing since yesterday. Since you told them all about it.

The police announced that he’s dead when you went to check again, and said there was a serial killer on the loose, the same guy who killed Carla, and they found a body in one of the warehouses. Which is total bullshit because demons wouldn’t throw a body in a warehouse, they’d probably… take it to hell?

Sam told you that it’s him, since you didn’t want to confirm it yourself, and you told his family that you were the one who confirmed it. You’re not sure how much of a bad person that makes you since none of them offered to check for you instead. 

Sam stayed with the kids in Gen’s house with her kid so maybe they did figure something out when they were screaming at each other, not that you care. You trust Sam. 

He’s the only person you trust.

There’s soft music thrumming out the speakers, though you lower the sound so people in the house can talk. One of the siblings brings their mother and you break down at the sight of her. She knows she has kids, she knows Mark, hell, she talks about him all the time. But more than that she loves you. His parents loved you the most out of their in-laws and while it created a rift in the family, it never did anything but humble you. You loved his dad, you were the first to get to his house when you heard what happened.

But seeing his mum— that you couldn’t take. 

It’s a few hours before they decide to leave. His brothers, both of them, come up to you asking about burying the casket. They’re doing it right next to his other brother and father. It’s family ground, or whatever it’s called.

You tell them you haven’t made any arrangements. They tell you not to worry. You hug both of them even if they did nothing to ease your concerns, at least that’s one less responsibility.

Gen holds your hand as you pace from the kitchen to the living room. There are kids, his family's kids, his friend’s kids, they’re all walking around, and you shouldn’t feel like this, you know that, but you can’t help the apprehensive emotions circling your heart and squeezing tight. 

The brothers leave to make the arrangements and everyone who isn’t immediate family has said their prayers and goodbyes. You’re all alone. Not that alone considering he has seven sisters and each one of them has at least three kids (one of them actually has 5 kids and two grandkids), but alone enough that none of you feel like you should socialize. Everyone’s in their own circle, you’re lying your head on Gen’s chest, hoping this horror show will end if you just close your eyes. Maybe you’ll hear his voice again, but it doesn’t happen. 

Except you hear his voice with every breath you take saying you’re the one who killed him. You’re the one who murdered your husband.

One Week After

“Jess, I swear to God, if you’re not done with your spelling homework—”

“She’s done.” You hear Sam’s voice get closer as he enters the kitchen and you nod softly at him. He frowns at you.

And you know why. 

“I helped her finish it.” He continues, walking up to you to greet you with a kiss to your head, but it’s not genuine. As much as Sam tries, his movements are all strained and it’s your fault. You haven’t stopped wearing black. 

“When did you come in?” You leave your door open most of the time in case one of his sisters comes to check up on you, or… or if Sam does. It gives his sisters comfort that you’re leaving your house open for them. The brothers haven’t spoken to you much since the funeral, but you know they’re grieving. Mark’s older brother lost his daughter and his brother in the span of a year. 

“Just a few minutes ago. Are you cooking?” You nod, looking away to check on the pasta. It’s a simple dinner, most of them have been since last week. You finally called the hospital yesterday and just as you were about to get a lecture from your attending, you told her what happened. She gave you an extra week off and you couldn’t reject it if you wanted to. 

“Pasta and Chicken tenders— it’s stupidly basic. I used to make it when we first got married, you know,” you let out a small humorless laugh, “and he hated me for it. Told me he’s a man and that he would starve if that’s what I thought food was. I learned how to make every dish his mother knew right then and there.”

Sam chuckles at your memory and it gives you a warm fuzzy feeling that you wish you could push away. These feelings aren’t supposed to be for Sam. You suppose in a way they aren’t. A pet of them, the majority, belong to the story, the fondness behind it. Imagining him sitting on the sofa of your old house scolding you half-playfully about the importance of meals the second week of your marriage.

“So why’d you come over?” He shrugs, sits down on the chair in front of the counter that’s facing you. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. Emmy already likes you. I don’t know about Jess.”

“Right. She’s a hard one to open up.” You smile at the description of your daughter, because it’s the truest thing you’ve heard. With the mention of that— maybe it’s time to address the elephant in the room.

You spin back, hands clasped together and you spit it out, “I didn’t see you at Jess’s funeral.”

His face drops, which makes your stomach drop but whatever. You have to talk about this. He probably has as many questions as you do, since you’re not aware of anyone keeping in contact with Sam.

“I didn’t attend. It was hard for me.” You furrow your eyebrows, unclasping your hands to fold them against your chest. “I mean… I didn’t talk to anyone after Stanford. I mourned. ‘Just didn’t see a point in showing up.” That’s a shitty excuse. And you hope he knows it too because you looked for him.

You searched for Sam at that funeral, you even asked about him when a few students came. God, even Brady came. How fucked up is it that Brady showed up and not her best friend. “Did you even keep in contact with Jess when you left?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

No. You were heartbroken when you and Sam split up. “We didn't really bring you up.”

“Right. We did, for a couple of years, but I moved around a lot and I got a new phone every few months. Eventually she got a kid and we just lost contact.”

“What about when you… you know, got convicted and stuff.” 

“I— not exactly, you know what Dean and I do, we’re trying to help people, but we can’t just walk around telling them we think there’s a vampire in the neighborhood. FBI, police officers, they trust those people.” You nod. It’s still not an answer. He notices. “Yeah, she still talked to me after, I’m not sure she even knew. I mean, you had to really be up to date with the news to hear our names.”

“No, you just had to live in Lawrence and give two shits about your surroundings. We’d be lucky if Jess even opened her phone to check for something productive, ‘s probably why she never found out. Gen got scared when Jess died, really paranoid for Rue, so she took it upon herself to stay informed. Your name came up a time or two.”

He sighs, scrubs his hand down his face and gives you his back to rest his elbows on the counter. You don’t mind, liking the silence as you stir this, taste that. Cooking’s been an excellent distraction for life lately. Even if it’s the most basic thing to exist.

Sam ends up staying for dinner but Jess stares at him with questions as she sticks to your side. She also has the biggest look of betrayal when Emmy asks him to hold her. She enjoys how tall he is and he doesn’t seem to mind it. By bedtime, you decide to talk to Jess about him.

“Why don’t you like Sam?”

“He’s a giant, and he made daddy sad.” 

Oh. “When he was here with the other police?”

She nods.

“He didn’t make daddy sad, sweetheart, he asked about Carla.” Who is also in heaven. Seems like they have a couple of slots open.

You speak to her a little more, about Sam, about school tomorrow, about daddy and how she misses him, you miss him too. He probably misses you two the most. You kiss her head before shutting the lights off and running downstairs to wish Sam a goodnight.

Until you notice him half asleep on your couch, his head resting on his own shoulder in a way that could never look comfortable. You bite your lip in anxiety. 

On one hand, you care for Sam and you don’t want him to drive tired. On the other, what if someone sees him spending the night?

What if one of Mark’s sisters comes unannounced? 

You decide to suck it up and be a good person, patting him lightly. “Sam, Sam,” he suddenly sits up straighter, slightly disoriented, “C’mon, let’s get you on a bed.” 

He pouts his lips like has more to say but ends up listening to you anyways. Halfway up the stairs he remembers his manners. “Oh. Oh, no, no—”

“You’re already halfway up the stairs, let’s just go.”

“I won’t intrude, I’ll just get back to the motel, I don’t know why I crashed like that.” You put a hand on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes intensely to give your best ‘no bullshit’ look.

“Sam Winchester, if I have to convince you not to drive half asleep, I will force feed you sleeping pills. Got it?” He lets out a laugh before pulling you in a hug. And he’s one step below you so your head fits perfectly in as you tuck it in his neck.

“Thank you.” You shouldn’t cry again. It’s already been one hell of a week without adding non-Mark related crying. You shouldn’t. But you cry yourself to sleep anyways. 

Two Weeks After 

“So, how have you been holding up?” You look up from the papers you’re filling to your co-worker. One of the interns that started the same time as you. You’ve gotten quite close with Sage, he’s been a great friend, no matter how little you both talk.

“‘M okay. Thank you for asking.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You smile tightly before nodding and giving the papers to the nurse. 

“Thank you.” You walk away but he follows after you, considering you’re both heading to the same destination, the parking lot. Your first shift back finally  in over a week you couldn’t be more grateful.

“Do you want a ride home? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral.” 

“No, thank you.” He’s being polite, you know that, but you’re not going to act the part of the widower. You’re fine. Your head’s still above water as much as anyone’s concerned. (Except Sam and Gen.)

Three Weeks After

Your mother is calling again. She won’t stop calling, and you can’t keep canceling. “Good morning, mum.”

There’s no one in the entire world that you love more than your mother. She’s your soulmate, she’s your best friend, she’s your biggest supporter. She’s everything you need and want in a person. She’s the only person who pulled you back from sinking when Jess died.

“Morning, baby girl. How are you?”

“I’m good, how about you and dad?”

She laughs as your father greets you, asking you where you’ve been. That you should call more often. That they’re there for you.

Yeah, that’s the problem.

Five Weeks After

“You’re… self-sabotaging. You don’t want to be happy, you don’t want to be okay.” The second the words leave Sam’s mouth, you try to kick him out with yelling. When that doesn’t work, you hit his chest with your fists, when that does nothing but make him barely stumble, you push  yourselves onto him in an attempt to throw him off his balance, instead he holds you as you cry.

What does he know? You’re grieving! You’re mourning. You miss him every single day and second and when his siblings gave you his inheritance you broke down so hard they were scared they’ll have to bring you to a hospital. 

He’s right. You’re going through the motions. Your kids ask you why they don’t go to the park on Friday. Your co-workers are worried for you. Gen cooks for you as much as she can. You killed him. You’re not— are you? You are.

“I don’t— want to. I don’t…” he shushes you, with reassuring ‘i know’ and ‘don’t worry, sweetheart’. When you’re calm enough to speak, you apologize for his tear-drenched shirt. And he gives you numbers for different therapists.

Later that week you tell Sam you won’t be doing therapy, but if he wants to help you, you’ll try. He says it’s enough compromise and he gives you a list of things to do. 

Make food that’s actually food. Work extra hours (you’ve been going under your normal hours the past three weeks). Friday park dates for the kids. Saturday lunch dates for you and Gen. 

Seven Weeks After 

You start wearing blue. Your favorite dress with small white flowers on it. You like how you look and it forces you to shave everything you’ve been neglecting lately. 

It’s time for you and Gen’s lunch date when you get a call from Sam. “I’m outside.”

You tell him you’ll be right down, spraying on perfume before running down to get your kids. “Hey, Jess, Emmy.” You capture their attention and they put down the iPad to stare at you. Maybe it’s your dress. “Sammy’s outside.” It’s the nickname Emmy’s given him and it makes your heart absolutely melt. “He’s going to drive you.” 

On your lunch dates you opt to leave your kids with your sister-in-law, the one you're closest to, anyways. She’s the youngest brother’s wife. But you’re running late and Sam offered to drive them himself. You’ve never left your kids alone with Sam anywhere other than in your house, where they’re comfortable. 

His car… It's worrying. 

You trust Sam completely and he’s been by your side every day for the past seven weeks but these are your children there’s just no way you’d neglect their feelings like that. But he convinced you that he’ll let them call you the entire time so they’re relaxed and you agreed.

You started locking your door.

Six Months After

“When’s Sammy coming?” You shrug, plating the Mac n’ cheese Jess requested. Today, Emmy is two whole years old.

It’s the first birthday you’re celebrating without Mark. And Sam offered to bring Gen and keep you both company. You’re still close to his family, you’re there once a week, if you can, but you’re slowly falling back to your routine, so you’re about to limit it to once every two weeks. The way Mark liked it.

The way you like it.

You’re picking up more shifts and making more elaborate dishes. One of your attendings told you if you keep putting in the work, he’s thinking of taking you in Cardiovascular. Your first choice would’ve been OBG-YN but if Cardio is what you’re the best in, you’ll take it.

Once all three of you are done and putting your plates away, the doorbell rings and you smile when Emmy runs over. You keep an eye on her as she waits for Jess to open the door. Sam and Gen are loud as they enter your house, hugging the kids. Sam picks Emmy up, teasing her about being two as they make it to the kitchen.

You lean in to hug Gen. Then Sam greets you like he always does, a kiss to your head. Emmy, being the adorable two year old, drops her face to do the same and Sam has to bring her back up with a smile to both your faces.

“Mommy they got velvet! My favorite!” Jess squeals, peeking at the cake and you look at both of your friends with a grateful look. 

Mark’s inheritance wasn’t even split upon you and anyone else, it’s all for you. And you’d been saving for a while too, so you’re set. Including your work, it’s going great, but they still insisted on being the ones to bring the cake. 

“Okay, we watch frozen first then cake, right, baby girl?” Sam asks Emmy and she smiles, hollering  in excitement. He puts her down so she, Gen and Jess can all go put the movie on, he holds you in place. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Thank you for doing this, you really didn’t have to.” He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face. And it’s weird that you know exactly what that means. “I’m better, I guess. Jess and Emmy still talk about him and— I made Mac n’ cheese today— but only because Jess wanted to—”

“Sweetheart, cooking was never about making it big, it was about what made you happy. And you’re happier when you make a big meal, I want you to feel that happiness again.” Maybe. Whatever. You still failed today, but it’s fine. “You did amazing today.” He tilts your chin up and you're forced to focus on his hazel-green eyes, “I’m proud of you. And you look beautiful.” He gestures to the pink top you have on, intricate lace design at your chest then it’s silk down till you tuck it into your jeans. 

A little dressing up was in order if you’re having a mini party. Even your kids and Rue are all in dresses. 

Sam walks you out to the couch, settles in next to you on one side and Jess on your other. Emmy alternated between all three of your laps.

Maybe you did amazing today.

One Year After

You call your mum as you practically bounce off the walls of your house, biting your lip so you don’t squeal like a five year old (no offense to Jess). 

“Mommy?” You jump the second she answers, “I got a job with Doctor Mendez!” And because you speak to her at least four times a week about him, she’s aware of who he is, the Cardiovascular Attending at your hospital. The one who’s due to retire any day now and is looking for a replacement. While he didn’t say it exactly, you’re the only student he picked to teach!

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful, honey. Oh my God!” You gush over the entire thing to her in a phone call that lasts a little over an hour. Your dad congratulates you too and you run to pick up Jess from football practice so you can tell her too. 

She hugs you, although she doesn’t seem to care, and tells you all about her new coach. 

You pick up Emmy from the nursery and one of the moms with a son who’s taking an internship at your hospital congratulates you.

For some reason, you break down the second you’re home. “Thank you for— not hating me.” You smile through tears. “I don’t think I would’ve even cared to get this far if I thought you hated me. I love you, Mark, I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you and tell you everything.” 

But for once while you’re talking to him, they’re not hostile tears or sorrowful. You’re content. 

And not to some extent either. You’re fully content. 

Especially when Sam knocks on your door. Your Saturday dinner with him and Gen is tomorrow and you mentioned that you need new clothes to which he decided to make a day of it. Jess decides she wants to hang out with Rue and Emmy follows her sister wherever she goes. 

You dust yourself off and open the door. You don’t expect this many emotions when you see him. But they’re there. And they’re really really there.

“Hey.” He smiles, walking in. “Are the girls ready? I parked in the driveway but if they’re gonna take a while I can park it—”

“Why are you still here?” You see his face drop before you scramble to correct yourself, “I meant, you kept saying you move a lot and with Dean, hunting, whatever— but you’re here. It’s been a year and you’re still living in a motel, Sam.”

“I’ve actually, uh, bought an apartment. A while ago.” You can hear your heartbeat In your ears, “It seemed cheaper to just rent an apartment since… since I’m living here.”

“You’re living here— since when? What about Dean?”

“He’s settling down, too. Cicero, he’s living with his girlfriend and her kid.” You’re not supposed to cry again. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I’ll stop coming over if you—”

“No,” you smile, “no, that’s just. I’m so happy for Dean, he deserves it, you know? Sam, look, I don’t know him well, I barely knew you before you both showed up as cops on my doorstep, but you’re not the same men that I hung out with in Stanford, you guys look so— and I mean this in the most loving way possible— exhausted. I wanted to ask, but it never seems like the time, you know? Just know I want to know about everything. Anything you want to tell me, I want to know. You mean a lot more to me than I ever let on.”

Sam’s eyes are watery but you don’t think you’ve ever seen the man cry and he doesn’t start today, but he does bring you in for a kiss that you don’t expect. He’s slow as he brings you in, like he’s reassuring you you can pull away at any moment, but you don’t.

You let it consume you. You move in, standing taller with your hands on his biceps. It’s a strong hold, like you’re scared he’ll disappear, and maybe he will, who knows? 

It won’t stop you. 

Because losing people is the way of the universe and not getting close won’t stop Sam from leaving, it won’t stop your kids from hating you, and it won’t stop your friends from moving away. 

And maybe it took you a damn long time to get there, but you’re not stupid enough to keep repeating the cycle at twenty eight, especially not with Sam. Never with Sam.

You just hope Mark’s proud of you. You hope he supports you. Because he pushed you here. He’s the only reason you’re able to stand tall and put yourself out there, his love, his worry for you, it changed you.

Or maybe he’s half the reason, you’re pretty strong yourself.

End.

this was super new to me in terms of I did coloring??? on the pics?? look at me beating the non creative allegations (insecurities), and different writing style that I honestly really liked. thank you for reading if you've made it this far.

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge @consistentreader578

[wellness-university]

How to Stay Organized as a Student

I always look forward to strolling down the bright white aisles of my local Target to pick up school supplies.

Shiny binders.

Pastel highlighters.

Smooth ballpoint pens.

But by the time October hits, my highlighters are out of my case and buried underneath various handouts I shoved in my backpack. I also can’t seem to find a single pencil anywhere. And I eventually lose the random pencils I pick up from the floor or “borrow” from my classmate.

At least, this used to be the case.

As a college senior, I’ve picked up a few tactics that'll help this scenario happen less and less.

Keyword: less.

No matter how organized you are, you will misplace something. It happens. But you can still minimize the chance of it happening often. 

So how do you stay organized as a student?

We need to take a look at all the areas in your life that need organizing: your school supplies, academic work, finances, and other non-negotiable items that vary from person to person.

School Supplies and Academic Work

The easiest way to keep your school supplies organized is to read your syllabi before your trip to Target so you don’t end up with more supplies than you need. The less you have, the less you need to worry about. 

Some students have found success working electronically from their iPad or laptop. This deserves its whole separate blog post, but luckily there are plenty of resources for electronic organization you can find on YouTube. 

If you’re like me and prefer writing your notes on paper, you should buy what your syllabi specifically asks you to. Once you’ve done that, here’s a list of other items to add to your cart:

- Pencil/pen case

- Pack of pencils

- Pack of pens

- At least 1 highlighter

- White-Out

- Calculator

- Backpack

Now, how do you stop the October crash from ruining your organization? Here's you answer:

You must create a routine for yourself to take things out when needed and put them back in their place after you’re done. 

For instance, you might take out your math binder and a pencil from your case. It’s important that you put these items back in your backpack when you’re done. But this doesn’t mean to throw your pencil in a random opening. You need to repeat the same steps you completed to take out your supplies. 

Put your pencil back in the case.

Close your pencil case.

Put your case back in its designated compartment in your backpack. 

Gently place your binder back in your backpack.

Close your backpack.

And for extra points: set your backpack somewhere so that you can easily grab it on the way to class.

Organizing Your Finances 

Keeping your finances organized is an amazing way to reduce unnecessary stress. One of the warmest welcomes into adulthood is that pretty plastic rectangle we refer to as a credit card.

One of the coldest welcomes into adulthood is paying your credit card bill.

The most important tip I have for college students is to open only one credit card. Since you’ve recently become an adult, building your credit (a record of your financial reliability) should start as soon as possible. This way, you’ll have an easier time for when you want to buy a house or a car because your credit score will be higher.

The better your credit score, the better chances you have at earning a deal worth your time.

If you want to build an excellent credit score, only use your credit card for purchases that you know you have the money for in your bank account. Then when it comes time to pay your monthly credit card bill, pay it off in full. 

This is mostly to avoid paying exorbitant interest rates. But your credit card company will see that you're responsible with your money and might even increase your card limit.

Along with your credit card, I recommend opening a second debit card. This debit card should be used for things like overpriced Starbucks drinks and stale dining hall food.

In other words, this card should only be used during the semester. 

The main goal of your second debit card is to set a budget for yourself during the semester. If you only want to spend $20 a week, then only keep $20 on there.

Your other debit card will be your home base that you can set up direct deposit for and use to send money to your other debit account.

Here’s a quick recap since that was a lot of information:

- Have a main debit card that you use for when you’re home

- Have a second debit card that you use for when you’re at school

- Apply for 1 credit card to start building your credit

This is a system I use to keep my money organized. My main debit card is used for things like depositing checks and paying subscriptions. My second debit card is used for buying small daily items during the semester. And my credit card is used for building my credit score (sort of like an extension of my main debit card).

General Tips

One issue I see busy students have is remembering appointments or meetings. Whether it’s your massage appointment or a work meeting with your boss, you should have a designated space to remember these events.

Lucky enough, most smartphones come with a calendar app that’ll notify you when it’s time for your appointment.

On my iPhone, I put any event in my calendar as soon as I’m made aware of it. If I don’t, I’ll most likely forget about it. This is how you can organize your meetings and appointments so you don't forget them.

For my notification settings, I have two reminders set for each event that’ll pop up on my Home Screen. The first comes two days before the event and the second comes two hours before. The reason I use these settings is because two days will give me enough time in advance to remember the appointment (especially if it’s made a few weeks ago). And it gives enough notice to the other party in case I need to cancel. I also use the two-hour notification so that I have enough time to get ready. 

Another skill I’ve started to utilize setting timers and alarms. When that two-hour notification goes off, here’s what I do:

- Take note of where I am and where I will be when it’s time to leave

- Check the traffic (if I need to drive anywhere)

- Set an alarm for when I have to start getting ready to leave

The alarm tells me when it’s time to GO! No stops and definitely no $200. 

Other than appointments, miscellaneous items can refer to different hobbies such as knitting. I can’t give advice on EVERYTHING that has to be organized because I may not know how to organize yarn the best way. So here are a few general tips that you can apply to any miscellaneous items:

- Keep a designated space for your items and only keep them in that space

- Invest in storage bins and make sure you label them

- Everything you take out must be put back in its spot

- Dedicate at least 10 minutes once a week to clean your space

- Set alarms and use timers to make sure that you’re not wasting time

Organizing your space and supplies is the best way to keep your mind clear. You’ll have more time to think about the task at hand instead of trying to find the supplies you need to do it. 

[deviantartdramahub]

I'm going to be honest, I was waiting for a cue before I stopped using the deviantart forums. Then I saw the thread at https://www.deviantart.com/forum/devart/general/2707431 and it made me think of something. Does nobody touch the green stuff anymore? Imagine making a thread like that and nobody has anything to show for. But I'm glad to be out of there. I'm also glad a certain senior member is gone and can conclude after reading the post at https://www.deviantart.com/wolfworths15menkey/status-update/Many-of-you-have-had-980170461 that she was and is the real cult leader.

In times like these, remember the following tips, popularized by Triagonal.

The best two devices are an ipad and a Nintendo Wii U

The best places to operate from are a flooded basement or a balcony

The best huckle buckle beanstalk places are in very big pipes and in neighboring vehicles

The best defense is a very slippery platform

The best excuse is a party

This is the time and place to be a micronation

My brother is complaining though that you somehow did wrong to Evie. What do you have to say to people like him?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[maria-murphy]

Complete Guide To Hiring iOS App Developers from India

When it comes to making an investment and seeking profits via a mobile application, there are numerous factors to consider. Every business benefits from a mobile app because it puts items and services in the customer’s hands. The mobile industry is always evolving, making it difficult to find an iPhone app developer.

Apple is a well-known smartphone manufacturer, and its main operating system, iOS, is extensively used in the mobile world. Furthermore, the mobile applications created on this platform are of higher quality than those created on other platforms.

Because of its extensive functionalities, it is a popular choice among businesses and other high-end individuals. As a result, businesses should consider developing apps for the iOS platform. Hiring an iPhone app developer who can create high-quality iOS apps while still being cost-effective is a difficulty that many businesses encounter. Hiring a talented developer can be done in a variety of ways.

But, which is the best option for you? That’s exactly what we are going to discuss in this blog. 

Firstly, let’s quickly discuss,

Benefits of iOS App Development For Businesses!

The benefits of iOS app development for businesses are:

#1. Better Growth

An iOS app can help a company achieve this goal significantly. In advanced economies, iPhones and iPads are very prevalent, and having an iOS app is one approach to contact the audience of people who use these devices and gain a strong presence in those marketplaces.

#2. Highly secured

Considering iOS has a name for being extremely secure, users may rest assured that they are protected from security breaches. Most iPhone users are unconcerned about malicious software, so they can believe that their personal information is secure, enabling them to conduct more transactions.

#3. Better ROI

According to statistics, iOS applications offer a great return on investment. iOS is a better platform compared to others. The chances of getting paying users are higher on iOS, through which you can get healthier returns on investment. As a result, a company’s reach will expand, allowing them to provide greater value to its customers. 

As of now, we’ve discussed a lot about iPhone app development and its benefits for businesses in 2021. Well, now, without further ado, let’s get right to the greatest hiring techniques. Here are some helpful ideas to consider while choosing an iOS developer. Let’s take a closer look!

How To Hire iOS Developers?

The best tips to hire iPhone developers are!

#1. Check experience

It’s like hitting a punch when it comes to selecting an iOS developer with relevant work experience. If a developer has worked on similar-sized and planned projects before, they will be able to grasp the requirements of your project quickly and move forward in the proper way. Whenever it relates to iOS developers, there have been three major levels of skill to consider. 

Types of iPhone developers:

Junior – Following a year as a trainee, junior iOS developers acquire up to a year of expertise. Junior developers typically collaborate with more experienced developers to grow professionally and receive continuous feedback on performance.

Middle – Numerous projects will have been built by a middle-level developer. When trying to recruit an iOS developer, look for someone who has worked as an iOS developer for at least 2-4 years. This implies that they can now perform tasks from start to finish on their own. They also have experience with the UI/UX app development process.

Senior – A senior iOS developer should be able to meet all of the needs of junior and midrange iOS developers. Senior developers are professionals in app development, security, Integration Services, and testing, in addition to programming. Senior developers are difficult to find and hire due to their high rates and demands, and businesses will always want to recruit them. 

Also Visit: Game development services

#2. Ask for their portfolio

When looking for competent iOS developers, this ought to be your next step. The expert pros will be more than pleased to show out their prior application development work on their portfolio. You can determine whether or not they are a good fit for your project by looking at their portfolio. You may also approach their clientele to inquire about the quality of their completed work. 

#3. Communication skills

Always look for iPhone developers who are friendly and communicative. You’ll need to contact the development team several times and during the project’s development to discuss the project update or any other changes. Developers should also take advantage of reliable and quick communication. Furthermore, they need to have super-fast internet access in order to have clear communication with clients across the globe.

#4. Look for the best technical expertise

Examine what they comprehend, what they’re capable of, how they’ll handle your assignment, and what ideas they’ll move ahead with within the heat of the moment! If you’d like a high-quality application, you should conduct a separate interview with the developers to gain a sense of their technical knowledge. It’s worth noting that iPhone app developers should be familiar with the Swift programming language. Apart from this, choosing the right design architecture is also important. iOS developers at Quytech prefer MVVM architecture over MVP architecture because it is the latest one and ensures higher quality code.

#5. Check their pricing model

Last but not least, you must evaluate the development costs. When it comes to hiring an iPhone developer, the cost is a major consideration. When it comes to quality, it would be ideal if you didn’t skimp on the price. Build a high-quality app using the agile technique, which yields flawless results. You must hire app developers in india that request a budget and operate efficiently within that cost while maintaining a high level of performance. 

Why hire iPhone developers from Quytech?

Quytech, being a top iPhone app development company has 11 years of experience in developing iOS apps and has developed over 300+ projects just for the iPhone. Quytech has been doing idea breeding for the past 11 years and helped shape funded startups like Wormhole labs which have raised over 8.5 million dollars (US) till now, CarPay DIEM which have raised over 8.2 Million (Euro) till now, among many others. 

To create secured iOS applications, hire an iPhone developer from Quytech. Our proficient iOS App Developer creates enterprise solutions for a wide range of businesses, including iPhone app development, Custom iPhone app development, iPad app development, and much more. At Quytech, we consistently think outside of the box and come up with incredible concepts that help you achieve your goals.

Final thoughts

When you know how to cut down the queue, finding the finest iOS developer is not a difficult endeavor. The procedures outlined above will assist you in finding the ideal talent for the significant development project while minimizing risk. The aim is to recruit experts with specialized knowledge so that you can track each stage of the app development process. In today’s mobile-first era, smartphone apps have become a must. It has now become the most profitable method for companies to raise revenues. Above are some tried-and-true tips for hiring iOS engineers. 

These factors will help you determine the degree of service the developers can provide and whether they can quickly grasp the process in order to complete the project on time. Looking for a strong preference to recruit competent iOS developers to work on your plan? In this case, Quytech is a good choice for you to hire dedicated developers in India. We don’t only promise to be the top iPhone mobile app development company in the United States.

Several national and international iOS application development communities have praised our expertise for multiple industries, like Education, Event & Conferences, Finance, restaurants, Healthcare, and Travel & Transportation.

Drop a message, and one of our experts will reach out to you soon!

Original Source: How To Hire iOS App Developers(Step-by-Step Guide)

[karlheinz-sama]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog!

icl i wanted to answer this as karl but i remembered some funny stories so yh

my great grandmother, so my mothers grandmother was a great woman. i mean she slayed, im talking 1920s housewife who lives on the border of the slums dealing with every bullshit possible this was before the partition of india pakistan. she dealt with insane amounts of racism, she lived through the partition, then the independence war from bangladesh because we live sea side ish. she lost one husband left with my grandfather, she married again and fought against every attempt of ostracisation her community threw at her, then she got married again. a love marriage too. and she live she really did to the best of her abilities both her sons studied till class 12, one even attempted college. she got mad at people, once she dragged a woman by her hair in our lawn and beat her with a sandal, other times she was so happy when we finally got a movie thing ( im not quite sure if it was a projector) in the community that she bought everyone a saree told their husbands to fuck off and do the house work because she wanted to watch a movie with her friends. she made homemade facials, and took meticulous care of her hair oiling it every day, she taught my grandmother and my mother all her favourite recipes. she refused to go a day without wearing gold because it was a bad sign , whether it be a thin necklace or heavy 9 carat earrings that covered her entire ears.

then there was her second son, my step- grandfather who wrote erotic letter for money. fun story okay. im talking top of his class, he's like smart asf he reads indian, persian, english AND french literature. all self taught, and one day his friends like i wanna write a romantic letter to my gf so he consolidates my step-grandpa for some writing tip and my s-grandpa writes him some next level french/hindi love letter for lunch money. his fame grows there are boys paying left and right and it finally happens someone asks him to letter sext a gal. and he does he does it so well the seniors are coming to him for help. but then remember still the mid 90s sex and love is very taboo. one of his (muslim) friends runs away with his (hindu) gf and her father finds the letters he storms into the school and find out my step-grandpa's writing matches with the letter and he gets the living fuckery beat out of him. eventually, he does graduate, but he's so smart that even though his family is beyond disappointed, i mean they won't even look or talk to him, he's given money to go over to the next town my train and take an exam to get into college he rides the train halfway and gets off at a city where he goes to watch a projection of a french burlesque club idk what made him go, he liked the arts, music, literature his parents never understood why this meant he had to like the taboo parts of these things. anyways he shows up to his exam late but early enough to be allowed in. finishes all 3 exams and falls asleep with 20-25 mins to go. he came out with the highest score in the state. still got his ass beat when he came home.

anyways the reason i found out about him was i woke up to my mum crying in the middle of the night in the corner of my room, and i was confused to what was going on. when she finally showed me my iPad where i found reiji x yui smut fanfic still open on a tab. and that's the day 11 year old me found out how taboo the whole sex thing was in the family, they didnt look at my step- grandpa the same for the next 35 years. until he ended up paralysed and bedridden but he still wasn't allowed to see his nieces and nephews properly cuz they thought he was a creep now.

[purpleyellow]

New blood

BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“Sunny meets Enhypen”

a/n: Your opinion is very important for me, send feedback and requests anytime 💜 Also, don’t be shy and interact a little, ask box is always open.

“We should rent a movie theater” Taehyung rested his arm over Sunny’s shoulders as they walked through the hallway “Watch a movie and rest for the night, you know”

“I’m not sure there are movies playing right now, but good shot” The girl sighed, just wanting to go home and bury herself under the blankets. 

“We can watch old stuff. Or ask them to play that drama you wanted to binge” He insisted cheerfully making her shrug.

“Again, not sure if that’s how movie theaters work” She noted as they passed in front of a studio, both stopping to wave at the producer inside “I’m kind of tired Oppa. I’ll just shower and sleep”

“But we haven’t taken a day for ourselves yet” He nudged her with his body making her snort “At least let’s watch Netflix together”

“Sure” Sunny rolled her eyes as they passed in front of the artist’s lounge. “I think I left my Ipad in there. You can go ahead, I’ll catch up”

“Okay, waiting for you in the car” Taehyung gave her a pat on the head as she went back to the room.

Walking fastly into the room, Sunny barely noticed seven boys freezing in the corner as she ran to the couch and shoved the cushions around. Standing up straight and turning around, she was scared by them staying in a perfect line, and as if on cue, one of them started a count.

“Two, three. Hello, we are Enhypen” They chanted simultaneously doing the hand gesture, a ninety-degree bow and ultimately startling the girl, who stood there staring at them with wide eyes.

“Uh… hello” Sunny put on a kind smile since they stared at her expectantly “I was at the finale but nice to meet you again. How is the debut going?”

“We’re working hard, Sunbaenim” Heeseung smiled and the rest nodded making an awkward atmosphere in the place.

“Well, good job” Sunny gave them a thumbs up and proceeded walking around the room looking for her stuff. “You must be adjusting fine to the idol life, you have a pretty good fanbase too”

“We’re trying our best, Sunbaenim” Another one, Jay, told her and Jake breathed out a timid “Yeah”.

“Well, if you need anything, I can try to help you or at least indicate someone who will” The girl looked over at them still standing in a line with their hands behind their backs, and tried her best not to snort.

“Thank you very much, sunbaenim” Jungwon bowed and the rest followed him, a little taken back by the sudden action.

“You don’t have to be so formal,” Sunny said with a breathy laugh and sat on the couch, indicating with her head they could sit anywhere they wanted to “To start off, calling me Noona is fine. Second, I really mean it when I ask you how things are going, if there’s something I can do to help, you can say it. And third, has anyone seen a rose gold Ipad anywhere in this room?”

Watching them one by one, she bit her lip trying not to laugh at their confused yet grateful faces, slowly frowning once they realized she had asked them a question that escaped their prepared and probably rehearsed polite answers.

“I think Jungkook Sunbaenim took it earlier if I’m not mistaken,” Sunghoon told her when the room went silent. Jay on his side, kicking his ankle as a reminder to mention how nice she had been “And thank you… Noona”

“You got it” She nodded and ran her hands over her pants “Well, I guess I’ll go track down that stealer then”

“Actually, can you tell us about how you were feeling before your debut?” Sunoo quickly spoke before she could get up and Sunny looked over to him startled.

“We’re just all over the place, it might be nice to hear from a senior who went through this” Heeseung added and Niki spoke up too.

“It’s a lot of feelings, we can’t even pinpoint them” The youngest nodded making her smile amused.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember that debuting isn’t the end of the line” She ran her eyes over the room and gulped “And be there for each other. It feels nice to know you’re not alone”

Clapping her hands together, Sunny got up and grabbed her phone from the couch. But before she could excuse herself, one of the boys cleaned his throat and the seven of them engaged in an exchange of glances.

“Noona, we were wondering if you could give us some tips” Jungwon spoke timidly after realizing she was watching them furiously nodding at each other. “Singing tips to be more exact”

“You all did fine on the show and I’m not sure I can be any more helpful than your coaches. But if you really want to then sure” Sunny shrugged sitting back down and stretching her neck “Who wants to go first”

“No one, my bad” Taehyung suddenly said from the door, sending the Enhypen boys on their feet, in the same formation they had introduced themselves for the girl.

“The boys were just asking for some help, Oppa” Sunny rolled her eyes and he smiled at them in apology.

“I’m sorry. But Sunny promised she would help me out with some stuff, I hope you don’t mind” He told them, who nodded, not really minding it that much “I’ll come check on you guys with her tomorrow”

Sending their goodbyes, both BTS members left the room going in opposite directions, which caused V to frown and grab her by the arm. 

“The elevators are this way. Are you okay?” He frowned like she was crazy and Sunny rolled her eyes.

“Jungkook stole my Ipad. I’m going to look for him” She said calmly but he shook his head, turning her his way and linking her arm with his. “Tae, why?

“He can bring it home, we’re going to rest now” He smiled happily and she stopped to think for a second, scoffing after something clicked in her brain.

“They told you about it, didn’t they?” The girl asked and he was the one frowning.

“Who? And about what?”

“Jungkook and Jimin? About the... thing…. in the kitchen” Sunny looked up at him and breathed out relief once she realized he was in the dark about her breakdown. “Just forget about it”

“Do I need to know something?” Taehyung asked worried and she shook her head, giving him a calm smile.

“Nah, it’s old news”

[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 4/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. 

Chapter 4:  Sometimes the road to recovery is x-rays and pain killers. Sometimes, it's freeeeeesh ava ca doo.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, F.R.I.D.A.Y., Cecilia Reyes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting, Alpine the cat, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to the plot Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Note:  Hi! I am overwhelmingly grateful to everyone who has read this story, and heard my call for inspiration. Because of you, this chapter exists, and I have a better idea of where to take this story. Thank you all so, so much. Honestly. I hope you love this.

So Far Away Chapter 4/?

Waking up in such a soft and safe environment took a hot minute. The danger was so far away from you and comfort was so close. Slowly though, your eyes opened and you tried to sit up. Sloooow mooootion. But then, pain.

You'd apparently slept off the memory of your injured hand, leaning straight onto it. It hurt so badly that you felt dizzy, then quickly sick to your stomach.

Within seconds of hearing you cry out, Bucky was at your side. "Alright, come on, darl'. Knew we should've gone straight to the doc when we got 'ere," he said, the latter statement directed at himself.

Trying to shuffle to the edge of the huge bed was exhausting. Tears began to stream down your face, running over the flushing red skin. You were embarrassed, somehow feeling it through the intense pain.

"Can you stand?"

You could, albeit shaky and holding your arm close to your chest, terrified something would hit it.

Bucky pressed a hand to your lower back and ushered you gently from the suite.

In the elevator, he called to F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Tell me someone's up in med?"

"Dr Cho is in D.C. but has left Medical to Dr Reyes,"

"Okay. Tell her we're on our way," he asked.

"Already done,"

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

Bucky turned to you, watched you struggle to keep your eyes open. He frowned, then cupped your face in his hands. The vibranium was cool.

"You're gonna be okay, Y/N. I know it hurts, but trust me - I've seen worse."

He wasn't being dismissive, just trying to pull you from the pain for a second or two. It worked; you offered him a weak smile. Bucky leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. You could smell toothpaste. He must have been in the middle of getting ready for the day when you woke up.

'Medical' was a whole floor. Research happened in the east wing, and the trauma centre existed in the west.

Dr Cecilia Reyes was ready, waiting for your arrival. "Barnes," she greeted. "You found her then,"

"Word travels fast, huh?"

"Oh, you know… Winter Soldier on a mission to find a girl. That kinda thing gets people talking," she replied with a smirk.

Bucky liked Cecilia. She was tough, raised in the Bronx. He liked that despite her power, she opted for a relatively normal life. She was good people.

"Well, welcome," she said to you, leading you to a private room. "I'm Dr Reyes. Heard you've banged up your hand pretty bad?"

"Yeah," you managed to squeak out.

"Scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?"

Ten. Definitely. "Uh… Eight," you lied.

Cecilia snorted. "So at least a nine then? Don't need to be tough for me," she told you, smiling kindly. She nodded for Bucky to help you up onto the bed in the room.

"I was okay last night," you said to her.

"Probably still in a bit of shock. Had a rough couple of days. Body's smart. Guess it waited to tell you it needed help," she replied.

"Should've brought you here last night," Bucky said.

"Nah, Barnes. Sleep is the great healer. She's here now. Let's see what we've got."

An x-ray, backlit and brutal, showed a broken ring finger, broken thumb, and three breaks to your hand. Cecilia told you that all things considered, you were lucky; the breaks hadn't split skin, muscle, or tendon. She set a cast on your wrist, hand, and thumb, and stabilised your ring finger by splinting it to your pinky.

"If you want, we can just cut it off and you can get one of what he's got," she joked during the process.

"Hey! Too soon," Bucky said, feigning offence.

She rolled her eyes at him dramatically. "What, like 80 years or something?"

Bucky laughed, then smiled over at you. "It's all right, darlin'," he said, noticing your expression. "If I can't joke about it, what's it good for, you know?"

"In her case, it's good for some top tier pain meds. Here - take two as needed. No more than eight a day. With food is better. And for reference, a can of Pringles does not count as a meal,"

"That felt personal," Bucky said, eyes narrowing at Cecilia.

"Your diet is trash," she told him, matter of fact.

"Firstly, once you pop you can't stop. Even I know that. Secondly, how do you know about my diet, doll?"

"Doll me again, Barnes, and I'll-"

"What?" he interrupted. "Force field me to death?"

"Joke all ya want, but it can be done."

Bucky laughed again, fondly shaking his head at her. Cecilia held back a full grin.

"Force field?" you asked, sitting quietly, letting the fentanyl you'd been given before the x-ray seep into your body.

"I'll tell ya later," Bucky said, reaching out to fold stray hair behind your ear.

"Alright, need anything else? You're not-" Cecilia started.

"Nah, nah, I'm good. Thanks, Doc. We''ll get out cha' way."

They hugged like they meant it, and she left the room.

Bucky turned to you. "I'd decorate that thing for ya, but Steve's the artist," he said, nodding at your cast.

"S'okay," you whispered in reply.

"Fentanyl working then?"

Eyes closed, grinning, you nodded slowly. Bucky snorted.

"Good. Guess we'll get some food in you then,"

"Pringles?" you asked hopefully as Bucky held your hips, helping you slide off the bed.

"Whatever you want, darlin'."

People pretended not to watch you and Bucky leave the trauma centre. It's kinda what people did in Stark Tower - pretend not to see and know what they saw and knew.

"He's got a girlfriend" someone whispered.

"No, didn’t he, like, go full hero and save her or something?"

"Think we got more to worry about than who and what Bucky Barnes is doing," Cecilia said loudly to the room. She smiled though. Good for him, she thought to herself.

…

Before you really knew what was happening, Bucky was handing you an iPad.

"Sit. Ubereats us something," he said.

You were on the couch, back in Bucky's suite. Looking around, you felt that awe again - floor to ceiling windows with New York views will do that. There was a light, knitted blanket over you. It seemed out of place in the modern apartment setting.

For a good fifteen minutes since returning from the medical suite, you'd just been sitting there. Bucky had waited until you seemed more… coherent, to ask you to pick food.

"You know Ubereats?" you asked, smiling, proud of yourself.

Bucky snorted. "I know I'm old, but I'm not playing-bingo-with-senior-citizens old."

You laughed and for a second, forgot about everything.

"That being said," he added, "I did live through The Depression, and I do have a super soldier metabolism… So, you know, don't skimp on the food."

You wondered what his dinner of choice normally would be. Order history! It looked like Bucky was working his way through every takeout option in N.Y. Nothing repeated.

"Burrrrrrito?" you asked.

"Yeah, darl'. Whatever you want,"

"I waaaaant… freeeesh ava ca doo,"

"That the drugs talking?"

Mental note to self: show Bucky Barnes memes.

After the order was placed, you put the iPad on the coffee table in front of you. Bucky picked it up, shot you a grin, and disappeared for a while. You did consider following him - he felt like safety. But, you were slowly coming out of the fog of fentanyl and knew tagging along like a lost puppy probably would make you feel awkward more than anything.

Bucky's voice floated through… superhero stuff, you assumed. Busying yourself with finding the remote, then being startled by F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s offer of help ("Can I help you find something to watch?"), you managed to fill the time until Bucky returned without having to really think too much. There was a feeling sitting in the back of your mind and the bottom of your stomach that you wanted to keep ignoring for as long as possible. It seemed… bad. And you weren't ready for bad.

"Alright," Bucky said, coming to stand in front of you. "How we doing?"

You smiled, nodded. His expression shifted. Sceptical.

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Ah-huh," you confirmed.

"I'm just gonna run down and grab the food. Won't be a second."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with only the television to keep you company. You tried to pay attention, focus on the show. But the volume was too loud, even on the lowest setting. It was agitating, stressful even. Switching it off, you were enveloped in silence.

Calm down, you told yourself. And yet, a heartbeat was pounding in your ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You could hear your own organs now?!

Suddenly, you found yourself at the window, looking down at the city. How can everyone… You were thinking too fast, spiralling. But how could you think of anything else? How could everyone down there just keep going? D.C. was still burning. People had died.

People.

Your people.

Everything - your head, the room, your world - began to spin.

Where's… Where's… Where the hell was a phone?

"Y/N," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice alarmed you, coming out of nowhere, but not enough to make you jump. "I'm detecting an elevated heart rate. Can I help you with anything?"

"I… ah… You're just a machine," you muttered to yourself mostly. "Wait! No! Where's the phone?! I need a phone… I need to call…"

Call who? Who would you call first? What would you do if…

You didn't hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell you where to find a phone, or ask again if you were okay. You didn't hear her tell you Bucky was on his way up. As soon as he walked in, he knew what was happening.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell me next time," he said while putting the takeout on the suite's small round dining table. "Y/N," he called. He stood in your field of vision, but not too close. "Y/N? Can you hear me?"

"I'm… I need a phone," you said, voice frantic, pupils blown. "There's people…"

"We can do that. Phone's right here," Bucky told you, pulling his cell from his pocket and holding it out to you. When you didn't take it, he slid it back in and held a hand out to you instead. "Y/N, take my hand. We're gonna sit down. Don't want you to fall and break any more bones,"

"How many days has it been?" you asked, your words pushed together, the letters overlapping.

"I'm gonna come closer, okay? Coming to you." Bucky moved. When he could see it wasn't making it worse, he held on your good wrist, his other hand on your waist, and walked you to the couch. You followed along, mindlessly compliant. "It's been five days. Not everyone will be on the lists yet, but we'll call, yeah? Or, we can get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do it for us."

You were sort of nodding, but were still finding it hard to focus. Bucky waited another few moments, watching and assessing, before deciding he needed to intervene further.

He put his left hand on your face, cupping the cool metal to your skin. Gently but firmly, he turned you to face him.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked, raising his right hand.

"What?"

He repeated the question.

"Three," you answered, dismissive and maybe even a little annoyed.

"Good. Now?"

"Five. What are you doing?"

"Now?"

"Two! What are you doing?!"

"Distracting you," Bucky said. "Making your mind work on a task that isn't just panicking,"

"I'm not panicking," you told him.

"Not now, 'cause it worked. You're still not breathing properly though,"

"I'm fine,"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Bucky called.

She spoke, "Your heart rate is still elevated, Y/N, and-"

"Okay, I get it," you stopped her.

"Just take a couple breaths with me. Don't need 'em to be deep. Just hold them for a couple seconds."

As he called it, you took a breath in, two, three, out, two, three. You managed to do it twice before shaking your head and wriggling in your spot.

"I'm not- I just-" and you were off again, rambling about people, phones, and things you needed to do.

You went to stand, but Bucky grabbed you around the middle, pulling you down. Your back was to him, pressed to his chest, while his arms were wrapped around you. He would have let go if you fought him or cried out. But, you were limp and quiet almost immediately.

As you clung to his arms, he rested his head on your shoulder and made soft hushing sounds. Bucky waited patiently until your breathing regulated. You had closed your eyes and let your entire weight rest on him.

"I know how you feel. You're exhausted. Makes everything feel… bigger. But I promise you, it's gonna be okay," he told you, voice calm. Calming.

"You can't promise that," you replied, voice weak.

"I reckon if anyone can - it's me. Had a lot of life experience. And, got a lot of resources. Superhero perks," he laughed, trying to lighten your mood. "You trust me?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Good. So, trust me. I've got you. And right now, we've got some burritos that need eatin', and you need to tell me what freesh ava ca doo is."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth was entirely ridiculous and you couldn't help but snort. It left a smile on your face.

"There she is! Come on. Up!”

Chapter 5.

Tag list (open): @animegirlgeeky @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the–sad–hatter @grecianlune @fairislesheets 

[mischiefxandxthunder]

Computers For Dummies

No doubt you've seen a 'For Dummies' book at some point. The huge, constantly expanding book series also covers a large number of computer-related topics that some people find difficult. The book series is known for treating the topics as fun and light-hearted as possible, but serious enough that you actually learn something from it. That's also why the 'For Dummies' course books have become so popular and new ones are constantly being added. Of course, this also has to do with the fact that many subjects are constantly changing. A book about a certain version of Windows is no longer so relevant after a few years, since there is a new operating system of Windows.

Especially for kids and seniors

There are a number of separate categories in the Dummies books. There are a number of books especially for seniors and a number of books especially for small children. These are written in such a way that they are easy to understand. For seniors, using a PC can be something completely new and a whole new world opens up to them when they can chat with family members and send photos. For children it is nice to stimulate an interest, such as a book on computer animations so that your child can make his or her own cartoon.

Internet for Dummies

One of the most popular books is Internet For Dummies. The book covers everything related to the internet, from different browsers to email and from social media to blogs. Every now and then a new version is released that is completely up-to-date, so that you are always assured of the latest relevant information.

Office for Dummies

Microsoft Office is widely used on a daily basis. The Dummies book series contains books that focus on Office in general, but also books that focus entirely on one program within Office. There are books especially for Word, Excel, Powerpoint and Outlook.

Apple and Android for Dummies

The book series contains various Dummies books about all kinds of Apple and Android products. There are books about the iPhone, iPad, Apple Watch, Android tablet and Android smartphone. So there is always a book that suits you perfectly. In addition, there are many more hardware and software related books that have not yet been mentioned here.

Want to find more computer courses? For example, read the computer textbooks and tips from the All education and courses portal.

[whirlybirbs]

birbs... ur a designer, right???? can u give me some advice bc i am about to graduate and wanna know what ur go-to's and must have's are!!!!

of course! here’s some tips & good things to have. for those of you who didn’t know, i’m currently a practicing designer who makes an income through freelance doing ui/ux, web design, branding/identity and lots of other work! i’ve got a BFA in design in the ~real world~

website!

adobe portfolio is a great resource if you’re already using behance! you can essentially just upload your already existing entries on behance to be in a gallery. it’s what i use for mine! you can use site styles, or stick to preexisting templates. 

if you’re looking for a more hands on, you can do wix. i’ve used it before for an entire site redesign but honestly i felt like i was pulling my teeth out. there’s a lotta front-end website designing services out there now. 

domain name! 

it can be a splurge. but, my current domain name is $8 annually! it’s worth it, and once you have your site + domain name, you can pop it on anything. for the love of god, don’t use google domains. they’re fucking expensive. 

i used namecheap! super easy, super cheap. 

business cards!

moooooo, baby! i get compliments on the quality of my business cards a lot, and moo is great because if you’re indecisive like me, you can order multiple front designs in one order! using honey as a browser add-on is helpful, or when they have sales. they have a good first-time buyer deal -- i think it’s like 20% off? they also can send you samples for free if you’re not sure what kinda finish you want before you buy.

put your website on your business card! my site wasn’t set up when i got my business cards for my senior showcase, and that’s my biggest regret. 

instagram/social media!

tweet ur shit, post ur shit, insta ur shit.

seriously, if i hadn’t? then i wouldn’t have secured the gig with a certain big name cowboy singer who shall still go hinted at for the time being ;-)

snag a handle, create a brand, do daily design challenges. they’re great ways to buff up your portfolio and get your stuff out there. don’t be afraid to flood hashtags in the comments, either! 

ipad / tablet

my ipad is like.... thicker than a brick and arguably older than my dog, but it works and it was cheap refurbished. it’s great because nearly all the model ipads work with an apple pencil. wacom tablets are also great, and their smaller models are great desktop tools. even if you’re not big on illustrations, using a tablet for the pen tool in illustrator is *chef kiss*. 

recommended resources

astropad studio: lets you screen share your mac with your ipad. essentially turns your ipad into a cintiq. a little pricey, but the deluxe studio isn’t really needed. go for the cheaper one. 

procreate: if you’re into illustrating, this one time payment app is great. it’s my most used app on my ipad. 

unfold: a good app for formatting instagram posts to all kinda cohere. i use it to pop my work on a black background. my art account has some good examples. you can also use it to make rlly sharp lookin’ insta stories. 

coolors.co: bro i swear i get all my color schemes from this site. smack that space bar till you find a splash you love.

dafont.com: honestly the safest font*** site i’ve used. not all of them are good, but you can find some good slab/bold/stylized typefaces. (***remember, kids! fonts are bold/italic/regular. typefaces are “comic sans” and “helvetica”!)studioyorktown: fire free mockups. here’s the link. 

other free mockup sites: bitches love mockups. i’m bitches. employers, too, are bitches bc sometimes a flat .ai file doesn’t rlly sell the cd package design you were thinking off. creativebooster, mockupworld and even behance have really good free mockups. no need to pay for ‘em, honestly.

youtube: dead ass don’t ever think you need to know everything. there’s so many good tutorials out there for anything you wanna do. it’s GREAT. i love looking things up bc there’s also! a million ways to do one thing! 

linda.com: definitely don’t go and register for a boston public library card online. never use a local uni address if they ask. it’s not like you can now use that ID to use linda.com, which is a service that’s.... $$$. 10/10 wouldn’t recommend if you’re into teaching yourself things. ;-)

there’s probably more in my brain cave if you’re thinking about something specific -- but yeah! those are some of my go-to’s and favs!

[artificialqueens]

at dusk beneath a diabetic moon (trixya) 1/4 - beanierose

AN: i am enormously grateful as always to mattepinkallshades, joanneelizabeth and connyhascontrol for being so supportive and encouraging, and letting me talk their ears off about this iteration of our girls. i feel very blessed to have you. and stutter, i will never be able to thank you enough. for cheering me on, for making me a playlist, for beta reading, for being such a bright spot of joy in my life. thank you, thank you, thank you.

(read on ao3) | (find me at katiehoughton)

a buzzfeed unsolved/x files au. katya hunts cryptids. trixie doesn’t believe in them, but she believes in katya. | 5,145 words

Katya feels at her absolute sexiest and most gay sitting in the Wrangler with her elbow propped against the window frame, smoking a cigarette and waiting for Trixie. She will get off work at the salon in just a few minutes. Katya has her own duffel and Trixie’s pink hard-shell suitcase in the trunk, and a stack of cassettes for Trixie to choose from. It’s the sacrifice she has to make in order to enjoy the aesthetic of the vintage Jeep, that she can’t annoy Trixie with endless playlists of 90s Russian pop on Spotify. They make do, and she doesn’t mind letting Trixie choose what they listen to.

While she’s waiting, Katya replies to a few tweets asking for a hint about her next investigation. People are still sending her memes from the last time, grainy, crazy-looking ones, the ones Trixie tells her are called deep fried. She doesn’t super understand them, not always, but she listens when Trixie tells her how important it is to engage. How that will help to grow her audience.

Trixie is kind of bossy, and Katya likes it a lot. She���s her best friend, since college, and when Trixie graduated and Katya was two years out of school and still just working in the costume store, she didn’t hesitate to follow Trixie out west. All of this was Katya’s idea, but they wouldn’t be where they are without Trixie pushing, Trixie organising, Trixie taking moody, verdant photographs of the back of Katya’s head for Instagram.

Katya keeps her replies as cryptic as she possibly can, and when people start tweeting at Trixie as well to ask her for details, she locks her phone again and puts it away. She drums her fingers against the outside of the car and watches people walking by, some of them looking at her. A man walking a dog goes right past the Jeep, only a couple inches away from her, and Katya almost topples headfirst out of the rolled down window to get to scratch the puppy’s snout. After he’s gone, Katya lifts her hand to her nose and breathes in the dog-smell of her fingers, lives there in that secret shame for a little while.

All of the girls come out of the salon at the same time at the end of each day, and Katya likes so much to watch them. Trixie is a head taller than everybody else and there are cute little wisps of hair escaping her ponytail to frame her round, lovely face. She’s laughing with one of her colleagues, her mouth open so wide that Katya can see all of her back teeth even from the other side of the street. When Trixie turns around and sees the car she gives Katya a small wave and comes across the street with a little bounce in her step, her ponytail swishing behind her. Katya picks up the Del Taco bag from the seat so that Trixie can sit down, and hands it to her once she has her seatbelt fastened.

“Oh, my god. I literally love you. Thank you. Hi.” Trixie is always starving when she gets off work and she begins rummaging through the bag right away.

Katya starts the engine and the car rumbles to life beneath them. “Hello, hi, hello, how are you, how was your day?”

“It was just okay. That WASP woman came in again, you remember from last month?” Katya hums a small noise of confirmation. “She won’t let anybody else wash her hair. I had to do it, even though I told her that I’m a senior fuckin’ stylist.” Trixie stuffs a handful of fries in her mouth and chews politely, swallows them down before she finishes talking. “I’m supposed to supervise and delegate.”

“Uh-huh,” Katya says. “Trixie, honey, you gotta stop trying to convince people that you’re a top.”

Trixie shrieks and strains against her seatbelt like she wants to lunge across the centre console and finally throttle Katya. Her mascara is coming off in little flakes underneath her eyes, and the pink tip of her nose is showing through her foundation. She’s tired, Katya knows, and she’d love to go home and sink into a warm bath, her skin made slippery and soft by all of the special products she puts into the water. Instead she’s here, in Katya’s beat-up old car, already rummaging through the shoebox of cassettes in the passenger footwell.

She chooses Kate Bush, and she has another couple of tapes picked out for when this one finishes that she’s keeping tucked underneath her thigh like she thinks Katya might take them from her. Trixie fishes around in the glove compartment for a pencil and sticks it through the sprocket to wind the tape back to the start, the tip of her tongue just poking out because she’s concentrating so hard.

After she’s done and the staticky voices of Dan Brandenstein and NASA fill the car, Trixie offers Katya one of her crinkle cut fries. Katya munches on it cheerfully while she checks her mirrors and pulls out of their parking spot. Trixie is eating her veggie burrito with one hand and taking the scrunchie out of her hair with the other.

Katya hasn’t yet grown tired of Trixie’s whole post-work routine. After she’s done eating, Trixie wriggles out of her black blouse and slacks in the passenger seat. She had left a change of clothes for herself neatly folded on top of her suitcase, and Katya had let herself in to Trixie’s apartment with her spare key earlier today to collect everything. She saw a pepto-bismol Post-it tacked to the door of the refrigerator to remind Trixie’s roommate, Kim, that she needs to give the chinchilla food and fresh water every day that Trixie is away. Katya likes Trixie’s writing, how she dots the i in Kim’s name with a little heart. Her own is scrawling and messy as chicken scratch.

It isn’t a graceful production for Trixie to get dressed again, and Katya focuses very hard on the road ahead so Trixie doesn’t get all embarrassed and grumpy. She doesn’t put her boots on after she’s dressed, instead propping her feet up on the dash in their wool socks. She pushes her toes against the glass of the windshield until they crack and she moans loudly. Katya is so grateful that Trixie comes with her at all for these trips, and especially after ten hours on her feet.

After some time spent massaging her arches and groaning, Trixie takes her iPad out of her backpack and starts scrolling around in their shared Google document. They’ve been researching and collecting information. Katya has been reading everything she can get her hands on and making notes for Trixie, highlighting the parts that she thinks are especially interesting.

“You know,” Trixie says, and taps two fingers against her chin. “This might be the first time that I kinda believe in the thing that we’re looking for.”

Katya turns her head for just a moment to glance at Trixie. The sun is setting on Katya’s left, and she likes the idea of Trixie looking back at her and seeing the sky peach-pink and luminous behind her. “You do?”

“Yeah! Bigfoot is meat and bone, Katya.”

She sounds so emphatic that Katya laughs out loud, a small sharp thing that reverberates around the inside of the car for long enough that she almost winds down the window again to let it back out. That would be less than wise; it’s raining. And it’s begun to get dark. Katya doesn’t like driving very much, likes it even less in these conditions. When it’s sunny and dry and warm, she will hold the wheel down at six in just one hand and rest the other on the window frame or sometimes along the back of Trixie’s seat. Tonight she has a firm grip with both hands and she’s focusing so hard on the road she keeps catching herself leaning forward.

“I know this,” Katya says. “I didn’t think that you did. I was super ready to have to persuade you with all my extensive and incredibly scientific and — Trixie, and — one hundred percent factual research.”

Trixie has elongated in the seat as they’ve been driving. She’s reclined it way back and she still has her feet propped up on the dash. The blood is definitely not reaching them correctly, and when she gets out of the car later she’s going to whine and hop around like a little sparrow until her circulation comes back. She has the iPad resting against the slope of her thighs and she scrolls back up to the top of the document again.

“Like how the earliest recorded sightings are from the fifteenth century? And how lots of cultures have different names for the same idea? Hmm? Those facts?”

“Those are facts!” Katya starts, and then sees Trixie right at the edge of her vision, barely suppressing a smirk. Her cheeks have hollowed with the effort and her eyes are wide. “Wow, I hate you so much.”

Trixie reads a little more of their research out loud, like Katya wasn’t the one who compiled all of it. Like she hasn’t already drafted her tweets for later with the most important details. She hardly minds; she likes the way Trixie’s voice sounds. She’s turned the volume down on the cassette player a bit, so that she can tell Katya about how there have been sightings in almost every state, how that lends credence to the idea that Bigfoot is a species, rather than a singular creature.

“Well yeah, honey. You look in the mirror lately?”

Trixie screams and drums her heels against the dashboard, squirming around in her seat. Katya’s laughing too, and she relaxes her grip on the steering wheel a bit. Just having Trixie next to her in the car always makes her feel safer, which doesn’t make any sense at all because she has on more than one occasion lunged across the centre console and put her hands around Katya’s throat while they’ve been driving.

“That’s so mean. You’re so mean. I can’t believe I’m friends with you.” She’s taken her sunglasses off now that it’s gotten darker, and she folds the legs in neatly and puts them away in their pink case, stows it in the glove compartment.

Katya grins. “Well, I am a cryptid hunter. I’m one of the few people that believe you exist. So you don’t really have another option.”

“Okay, I got it, thanks so much,” Trixie says.

She gets into a bit of a snit and draws her legs up onto her seat, folds them beneath herself instead. There’s only twenty more minutes or so until they get to where they’re going, so Katya leaves her to work through it by herself in furious silence. It’s unkind to provoke her after a long work day. Katya should have known better; she does know better.

“Hey,” she says, after a handful of minutes in which she has to be very careful not to turn her head towards Trixie. “You’re very pretty.”

“I know.” It comes out sharp, but then her face softens into a smile. She uncrosses her arms and stretches them up above her head, as high as the roof of the Wrangler will let her.

They’re driving along the main street through the town now. Even in the dark and the rain it’s pretty cute, the street lined with trees and low, single-storey buildings. Behind them, the mountains sweep upward so steeply that it makes Katya dizzy when she leans forward towards the windshield to try and see the top.

“This place is kinda charming. If you’re into like, mildew and cheap beer,” Trixie says.

Katya swings a right into the parking lot of the motel and cuts the engine. “You know those are my two main interests. You think we’ll have time to go apartment hunting while we’re here?”

“Since when do you want to live like a person?” Trixie lifts both eyebrows. She always looks so pleased with herself whenever she gets a chance to tease Katya, and her mouth is turned up at the corners so the dimple in her left cheek is more pronounced. “We’ll get you a nice tarp and an extra pair of wool socks.”

“Oh wow, two pairs? A life of true decadence.”

Trixie doesn’t respond; she’s begun rummaging in her footwell, collecting all of her belongings. It usually takes less than five minutes of her being in Katya’s car before her stuff is scattered everywhere, but she is always courteous, always careful to take everything with her when she gets out. While she’s occupied, Katya jumps down without using the step and rounds the front of the Jeep to open Trixie’s door for her and offer her a hand. She doesn’t need it — she’s taller than Katya is — but she never refuses.

“We can’t stay someplace nice?” Trixie says, looking over the top of Katya’s head. The red neon Vacancy sign is making her face look warm and pink and sweet. “Just one time?”

“You wanna pay?” Katya says back.

Trixie squawks in distaste and Katya leaves her there, leaning against the side of the Wrangler and shifting her weight in agitation while the blood comes back into her feet. She gets their luggage out of the trunk and takes everything inside, Trixie trailing a few paces behind with just her little pink backpack.

Katya is the kind of person who says thank you to Siri whenever she asks a question, and Trixie is the kind of person who giggles at her every time for doing it. Because of this, Katya is always the one to speak with the person at the front desk and smile politely and collect their room keys, while Trixie busies herself a few feet away. She thumbs through the racks of leaflets advertising things to do in the surrounding area. Almost all of it is Bigfoot-adjacent, and Trixie certainly won’t find anything interesting enough to make her actually pick one out.

The moment they get into their room, Trixie unzips her suitcase and heads straight for the bathroom with a thing of Clorox wipes. She does this every time, and Katya can hear her singing cheerfully to herself while she scrubs the sink or whatever, so she leaves her to it. It gives her a minute to stretch out after the drive. Katya sits down right on the floor, even though it will make Trixie click her tongue in disgust, and moves easily through a few simple poses.

It feels good; she likes the way that it kind of burns when she pushes her hip flexors as far as she can. Her hair is spilling down all over her face and getting into her eyes, and she has a red scrunchie around her wrist but she doesn’t want to shift out of downward-facing dog to tie it up. After a couple minutes her legs start tingling and she brings them down and sits up, gathers as much of her hair up as she can. It only skims the top of her shoulders and it always wants to fall down and stick in sweaty tendrils to her cheeks and neck.

“Get off the floor,” Trixie says when she comes out of the bathroom. “You’re gonna get hepatitis.”

Katya lifts her head from her plow pose to look at Trixie. “I think that would be very sexy of me. Will you nurse me, Trixie? Will you tenderly pat my forehead with a cool facecloth?”

“I’ll smother you with a pillow.”

Sweat is beginning to prickle between Katya’s shoulder blades and make her back feel all itchy and unpleasant. She flops down flat onto the floor and Trixie steps carefully over her and sits herself primly on the end of one of the twin beds. She has a way of always, immediately, making the places they stay feel more like home. It’s not like she brings a bunch of scented candles, although Katya doesn’t doubt that she would if she thought she could get away with it. Just her presence in a space is enough to make it feel warmer and cosier and more pink.

Everything in Trixie’s suitcase is organised carefully into packing cubes, and when Katya opens her duffel and things start falling out onto the ground Trixie sighs loudly. Katya rummages around until she finds her dopp kit and she holds it aloft, victorious.

“I’m gonna shower. I am feeling extremely gross from the drive.”

“You’re extremely gross from who you are as a person.” Trixie has taken her boots off and wriggled up the bed so that she’s leaning against the headboard now. Her hair is a bit matted at the back from their long drive, and her makeup is smudged and wearing away. “I’m gonna call and check in with Orville.”

Katya’s knees both crack loudly when she straightens up and she winces. “Cool. Say hello to our son from me.”

“He’s not your son, Cruella,” Trixie fires back at her before Katya closes the bathroom door.

The spray from the showerhead is lacklustre, and Trixie is definitely going to be unhappy about that when she washes her hair tomorrow. It makes Katya laugh just thinking about it and some of the water gets into her mouth.

Freshly dressed, she comes out of the bathroom to see Trixie laying on her stomach on her bed, grinning at the screen of her phone. She’s on FaceTime, and Kim has propped her own phone up against the chinchilla’s cage so that Trixie can watch Orville eat. Katya likes that Trixie doesn’t stop her soft voice or her goofy smile when she comes into the room. She leans down over Trixie to put her face in the frame as well. When Trixie first announced one day that she was going to get a chinchilla and dragged Katya to the pet store to help carry everything, she hadn’t really understood the appeal. She gets it now. Orville sits on his hind legs and holds a grass pellet in his front paws to nibble at delicately, and Katya and Trixie watch him eat.

Katya had been with Trixie the day she got Orville from the rescue center. She’d been the one to drive back to Trixie’s apartment, and she’s pretty sure that was the closest she’ll ever come in her life to the feeling of driving home from the hospital with a newborn in the car seat. Trixie had cradled the carrier in both arms and sung softly to the chinchilla, so that he could get used to her voice. Now he’s inquisitive and goofy, and he likes to ride around on Katya’s shoulder whenever she’s over at Trixie’s place.

After a little while, Kim comes back into frame and tells them she has to hang up now but that she’ll check in later, before she goes to bed. “You’re a really good dad,” Katya says, and then darts rapidly off the bed and out of range so that Trixie can’t smack her.

She sits up and gathers all of her hair up off her neck in both hands, rolls her head on her shoulders. “You’re his dad. I’m a MILF. Can we get snacks?”

“Really?” Katya sits at the end of her own bed to start putting her Docs back on. “Watching him eat those nasty-ass dried-up pellets made you hungry, Trix?”

“No, being in a confined space with you for multiple hours made me hungry. Come on, there’s a gas station down the street.”

Katya trots obediently along behind Trixie on their way to the gas station. She looks like a confection, like something made of fondant or marzipan. She’s totally out of place in a town like this. It’s still raining, and it’s hovering right around forty degrees. Trixie’s wearing a white down jacket and she’s got her hands shoved inside the pockets and her chin tucked into the neck of the coat. When she put it on Katya told her she looked like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and she stuck her tongue out.

“Trixie, you know, you really shouldn’t dress like a snack when we’re out looking for enormous carnivorous beasts.” Katya quickens her pace to catch up to Trixie and hooks her arm through hers.

Trixie scoffs. “He’s not carnivorous, is he? Has there been one single confirmed report of a Bigfoot attacking a person? Ever?”

“Well no, but-”

“Mhmm.” Trixie stops them walking in front of the door to the gas station and Katya lets go of her arm so she can open it and hold it for Trixie.

Inside, several people turn to look at them. Trixie reaches blindly behind herself and circles her wrist until Katya takes her hand and allows herself to be led over to the snack aisle. She likes how every decision Trixie makes is properly considered, how she bends at the waist to assess their options before she picks anything out. She passes things to Katya one at a time for her to hold, until she’s satisfied. She started with the biggest thing of Skittles the store carries, which Katya is cradling against her stomach while she waits. Katya follows Trixie over to the registers and dumps everything out on the counter; a Red Bull can starts rolling and Trixie catches it as it drops off the edge and sets it down securely again.

“You girls in town for the squatch?” the older man at the register asks as he starts ringing them up. His gaze lingers on Trixie for a little while. She unzipped her jacket because it’s warm in the store, and underneath she’s wearing a pink roll neck sweater. She doesn’t much look like a typical amateur cryptozoologist.

It makes her let out a small disgruntled noise and she wanders away a bit. Katya bounces on her toes a couple times and clasps her hands together. “We sure are! You got any insider information?”

“Just don’t getcha selves lost in the forest,” he sighs. “Bring plenty’a supplies, water, nineteen forty-seven, and cell phones don’t work so you need’a use short-wave radio.”

Katya blinks at him a couple times and then says Oh! and rummages in the back pocket of her pants for her wallet. It was a gift from Trixie a few years back and the leather has been made soft and buttery with use. Inside, there’s a Polaroid of the two of them. They’re at the beach in it, Trixie in a vintage one piece and an enormous straw sunhat. Katya’s wearing a bikini with a shark print and she’s tucked beneath the brim of Trixie’s hat, leaning in to kiss her cheek. It sends a little sting of pleasure through her each time she sees it; Trixie had gifted the wallet to her with the photograph already inside.

“Here you go,” she says cheerfully, and hands the guy her card to swipe. “We’ve got radios and rations, don’t worry. We’ve put some thought into this. I guess you guys must have folks getting themselves stuck and needing rescued all the time, huh?”

The guy makes a gruff noise and passes her the receipt to sign. She can feel Trixie’s eyes on her, feel how she’s itching to get out of here. Trixie uses all of her reserves of small talk for her job and generally doesn’t enjoy engaging with people outside of work. Katya is honoured that Trixie feels comfortable enough with her to be grouchy and quiet, that it doesn’t drain her energy when they spend time together.

“You ever see any signs yourself?” Katya asks the clerk as he’s packing up their stuff. He passes the paper bag over to her and she holds it against her chest in both arms and waits for an answer.

The guy gestures behind himself to a few blurry photographs tacked up on a corkboard with push pins in different colours. “You hear about that hoax that was uncovered over in Bluff Creek?” He says it like that wasn’t almost twenty years ago, and Katya nods enthusiastically.

“I did!” She listens as he tells her to check out the museum in town, and that they should be careful not to find themselves in the forest after dark. He’s growing more and more animated as Katya lets him ramble, and she has to shift the weight of the grocery bag to her other arm.

Trixie has circumnavigated the store while she’s waited for Katya to get done talking to the guy, and she comes back to touch her fingers to Katya’s bent elbow and say her name very quietly and urgently. When they first met, Katya repeated Trixie’s name back to her and cracked it in half over her knee like a glow stick, and Trixie added an extra syllable to hers. Kah-tee-yuh. She likes the way that it sounds, especially when Trixie is getting annoyed or whiny.

“Okay, just a minute,” she says back calmly, as if she were trying to placate a child.

Katya thanks the guy at the register again and gestures with her head for Trixie to lead the way out of the store. She’s getting kind of stompy, so Katya trails a couple of steps behind on the way back to the motel. Trixie’s hands are balled into fists at her sides, but she’ll be okay once she eats a few Oreos and changes into her pajamas.

In their room, Katya unpacks the grocery bag and lays everything out on the dresser while Trixie changes in the bathroom. She likes pottering around and listening to the water running and the quiet hum of Trixie’s toothbrush, likes how Trixie’s face is bright and gleaming with lotion when she comes out.

“Par-tay,” Katya says, and shakes the bag of Skittles in Trixie’s direction.

She wrinkles her nose and collects a couple things to take with her when she gets beneath the sheets. Hers is the bed furthest away from the door, like always, and she props herself up against the headboard. Great clouds of freshly brushed-out curls cascade over her shoulders. Her hair is very soft; Katya knows this from the handful of times Trixie has gotten frustrated trying to do her own french braids and had Katya do them for her instead. Katya thinks she looks sort of like an earthworm, pink and shiny and moist, but knows better than to ever say that out loud.

“Hey, you know, that’s very Bigfoot of you,” she says as she comes over to sit on her own bed across from Trixie’s.

Trixie has arranged the various packages of junk food neatly across the sheets, in order of size from smallest to largest. She does the same thing with gifts, Katya remembers from her birthdays and that one Christmas neither of them could afford to go home and they spent the day on Trixie’s couch watching movies and eating until they were too bloated and uncomfortable to move.

“What is?”

“Arranging stuff all orderly like that.” Katya isn’t beneath the sheets yet, she’ll go out for a last cigarette, but she does reach down to unlace her boots. “You want me to go find you some rocks to stack?”

“I want you to never talk to me again,” Trixie says sweetly, and she rips open her Oreos and gets right to work twisting the cookies in opposite directions to separate the sandwich.

It doesn’t seem like the best idea to eat a whole bunch of sugar right before bed. Katya wants them to be up early to make the most of the daylight and she knows Trixie’s going to grumble, even though she’ll get at least an extra hour of sleep. Katya likes getting to wake Trixie with the wet ends of her hair dripping and her body pleasantly sore from a run, likes watching her come all grumpy and confused into the day. She is not about to tell Trixie to take it easy with the snacks, especially when she looks so cute munching on her cookies.

“I’m gonna go smoke,” Katya says, and Trixie makes a noncommittal noise.

She gathers her lighter and the pack of Camels from the pocket of her jacket and heads out the door of their room. They have a little patio area in the front with two Adirondack chairs and a small table and she settles herself down to light a cigarette. If she turns her head she can look in their window through the gap in the voile panels and see Trixie, scrolling through her phone and still eating.

They’re not far enough away from civilisation that she can see all of the stars, but there are way more than in the city. It’s so beautiful and so still, the rain coming down much lighter now. Katya likes the noises of the frogs very much. She would like to stay out here in her chair and listen to them until time stands still, and then maybe a little longer after that.

Her hair got damp again when they were walking back to the motel and she takes it down from the scrunchie so it can dry off a bit. It’s not even close enough to being warm enough for her to sit out like this, and she regrets not wearing a jacket. For a little while Katya inspects her own arm, fascinated by the way all of the blonde hairs are standing on end and how her skin feels like it’s on too tight.

After a while the light goes out in the room behind her. Katya isn’t usually the last one awake, but she really likes the idea of tiptoeing around and doing her best not to wake Trixie, maybe sneaking glances over at her. She’s on her second cigarette, and she’s trying so so hard, but she’s barely smoked at all today and she’s so content in the moment that she doesn’t want to go inside just yet. They’re so lucky to do this. She is so lucky, to have a best friend who will come along with her on these trips and take pictures and listen to her rambling and be the person she gets to turn to and say did you see that?

Their room faces away from the main street and she can almost make out the shape of the mountains. They seem much closer than she knows they really are, a huge hulking mass of deeper, more solid darkness. A little shiver goes through her thinking about how Bigfoot could be up there right now, maybe peering down, watching the lit end of her cigarette weave around in the dark like a firefly.

[abidmazh-blog]

Some Useful Tips For International Travel During Pandemic

Some Useful Tips For International Travel During Pandemic

Glad to share my travel experience from London, Heathrow to Bhopal via Mumbai along with my family in phase 4 of the #VandeBharatMission repatriation flight. I am thankful to High Commission of India in London and Air-India and for making this happen.

The purpose of this blog is to help international passengers who are travelling to India from overseas by Vandey Bharat Mission and special charter flights. I hope you enjoy this blog, and it is very useful for international travellers. If you need any further clarifications please feel free to contact me!!

Some Mandatory Pre-Travel Steps To Be Performed By International Passengers

You have to book your tickets immediately as and when booking starts. Please note, seats are very limited and available only on first come first serve basis. All repatriation flights tickets are non-refundable and non-reschedulable so to book it very wisely  

You have to register with the High Commission of India, London [Refer Link Below]

You have to register pre-departure information card for #VBM flights [Refer Link Below]

Online Web check-in and pre-declaration form is mandatory, 48 hrs before to the flight’s departure

You have to apply online ePass online of your state [Refer Link Below]

Arogya Setu App is mandatory, and must be downloaded in advance on your mobile. Every individual passenger needs to download this App on his/her mobile except kids age below 10 years

You’ve to register for the Arogya Setu App for that you require Indian number. Pls don’t get panicked, if you don’t have Indian sim, you will get it directly at the destination airport by paying 500 Rs

Advance booking of a taxi is mandatory otherwise you will chase some difficulties at the airport, and will not be allowed the exit clearance. Please note that the Taxi number and driver details you booked in the deceleration form and in the ePass must be the same, and it will be validated by the airport staff

Before Boarding The Flight !!

All passengers were screened in London, Heathrow airport at the boarding gate and those who have any symptoms would be put in quarantine facility in the UK. Before boarding, there is a temperature check done and a seal placed on our passes. The flight personnel are in full PPE gear. On each seat there are two snack boxes and a packet with face shield, mask and hand sanitiser sachets. There is no in-flight entertainment. The flight was full, and there were no vacant seats. It is advisable to carry your home-cooked food while travelling and to avoid the food provided in the international sector. A hand sanitizer of less than 100 ml can be carried and must be in your pocket, so to keep your hands sanitized properly on frequent intervals. In case, if you are travelling along with kids it is better to prefer a window seat for children.

Steps To Be Followed Before Landing

Passport, Visa, eTickets, Pre-Departure and Declarations forms print-out ready in hand for verification

Boarding pass will be issued at the counter after passport, visa and e-ticket verification

Baggage Drop-off (2 pieces of 23 kg allowed by Air India #VBM Repatriation Flights. And a maximum of 7 kg cabin-bag permissible. Laptops bag and iPad are not allowed separately, Lady hand-purse or Baby pushchair are allowed in the aircraft, check with your airlines before boarding)

Health Check-up declaration form to be filled and verified by the airport staff members

You have to go through Security Check-in

Have undergone Health Check-up and Temperature recording before boarding the aircraft

A face mask is mandatory and must wear all the time at the airport

You have to wear Corona Kit and face-shield before entering the aircraft

Steps To Be Followed After Landing

Health Check-up and Temperature recording after landing at the destination airport

Arogya Setu App status must be in GREEN, and it will be checked by airport security team

Health and Hotel form acknowledgement to be filled in case you don’t have pre-approvals and prior declarations in advance

Immigration Clearance process to be followed

Baggage collection, and Custom clearance

Indian Sim card collection in order to register Arogya Setu App

Hotels booking to be selected according to your personal preference for intuitional quarantine. In case, if you do not have hometown quarantine approvals or NOC’s.

Exit clearance, NOC will be provided by home state-officers that you’ve applied and travelling to

It is to be noted, that NO international passengers are allowed to continue their travel by domestic flights. They will have to travel by road only via taxi to their home states. Advance taxi booking document are mandatory in any case.

Institutional and Home quarantine will be followed in your hometown after getting approvals

After landing at Mumbai international airport, it took hardly 90 minutes to complete all formalities including immigration clearance, baggage collection, medical check-up, temperature recording and other required formalities. It is advisable to get approvals in advance, so there’s no need to stand in long queues at the airport and it helps in smooth clearance process, this would off-course save your time and efforts. 

A special approval for hometown quarantine will be given by the state authorities depending on the documents you provide. However, authorities allow you to permit the hometown quarantine process only on the basis of medical emergency in the family, or in case travelling along with kids, pregnant women, senior citizens, condolence visit in the family, visa expiry, deport or exit cases.

Steps To Be Followed After Reaching Hometown

You have to inform your local Chief Medical Officers [CMHO’s] immediately on your arrival for institutional quarantine

In case of any health issues, please report immediately and do not hesitate to contact CMHO

A two-week mandatory quarantine process will be followed by every individual who is travelling internationally. It includes seven days Institutional Quarantine in hotels, and seven days home quarantine

You will not be required to undergo any medical test after completion of your quarantine period.

As far as possible, avoid international travels at this time of pandemic unless there’s grave emergency

Important Registration Links

https://mapit.gov.in/covid-19/  [ePass Link]

https://www.facebook.com/IndiaInUK/ [High Commission of India, London]

https://www.facebook.com/AirIndia [Repatriation Flights Details and Schedule]

https://ota.airindia.in/vandebharat/PassengerHealthUndertaking.aspx  [Web Check-in]

http://www.airindia.in/r1landingpage.htm [Repatriation Flight Booking & Declaration]

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScJ4YG8EXWELiyajS3lHVSUpOKkCTW2s95ghuUG_9jiy6merg/viewform [Pre-Departure Information Card Vandey Bharat Mission]

[louisebrazier]

→Convertir Un Formato De Archivo Audio Gratuitamente Mp3 Wav Ogg Amr Flac Aac Mp4 M4a

AIFF MP3 Converter konvertuje soubory AIFF do MP3 a MP3 do AIFF. To transform songs at the moment in your iTunes library, open the software program and find the Preferences menu from the iTunes dropdown on a Mac or Edit dropdown on a Windows computer. Next, click the Common tab, then discover the Import Settings in the decrease section of the Preferences window. After that, click the dropdown subsequent to Import Using, choose the format and click on OKAY to save lots of that import format as the default setting. iTunes allows for batch changing, so the ultimate step is to pick out all of the recordsdata you wish to convert, click the File menu, then choose Convert and click on on Create MP3 Version. If you happen to selected a distinct output format, it displays that format slightly than MP3. An important choice for converting AIFF to MP3 on Mac (newly macOS 10.14 Mojave included) is iSkysoft iMedia Converter Deluxe This app helps you to convert video and audio in AVI, MKV, MP4, MOV, AIFF, MP3, WMA, WAV all with outstanding ease. Additionally count on super fast conversion thanks to the newest NVIDIA encoding and decoding expertise-giving you fast conversion with loss-much less file high quality. And you are able to convert multiple recordsdata in a single batch, saving time. FYI, this all-in-one video converter also enables you to customise audio output settings together with bit fee, i.e, if you wish to smaller your file, you can decrease down the bit charge and other settings.

Select the "MP3 to AIFF" tab in program major interface (default), click on "Add MP3 Audio" button to pick source MP3 recordsdata, you'll be able to add lot of MP3 information one time, after click "Convert to AIFF" button, you need choice one folder as the output folder, then program will convert your MP3 audio information to AIFF audio format one-by-one. As the identify suggests, it's an online changing device used to transform information from one format to a different that you just like. It helps conversion from an enormous record of file codecs together with and may convert audio, video, eBooks, paperwork, archive, photos and so on from one format to other. You can too convert AIFF to MP3. MP3 is one audio compressed know-how, which is specially designed for lowering audio data quantity significantly. On this respect, AIFF file is believed to much bigger in contrast with MP3. All the same, these AIFF audio files uncompressed could have slightly better audio quality than the compressed audio information like MP3 files. Alternatively, MP3 file format that can be broadly utilized in all kinds of audio players. So if you want to carry your wishes of taking part in AIFF recordsdata smoothly on many cellular gadgets into impact, then chances are you'll have to convert AIFF to MP3 first. Most of AIFF information are uncompressed pulse-code modulation, which occupies much more disk space than lossy codecs like MP3. AIFF-C or AIFC is a type of compressed AIFF format and has numerous compression codecs. The file extension for an AIFF file format isaiff oraif. An AIFF file can store metadata in its totally different chunks, like Common chunk, Comment chunk, Name chunk, www.audio-transcoder.com Annotation chunk, and Author chunk. We strongly suggest utilizing the downloadable audio converter packages in our comparison, like Swap or Audials Tunebite , to ensure your recordsdata aren't at risk. Utilizing a desktop application fully removes the concern of information privacy as a result of the file by no means leaves your laptop until you need it to. We downloaded every program we tested and noticed no indicators of adware or extra malicious software within the downloaded file. When it's essential to convert AIFF to MP3 on iPhone or iPad, you should use iConv audio converter to transcode the audio files as a substitute. What is more important, the program is ready to keep the unique audio high quality and regulate the specify video bitrate, arbitrary decision, audio bitrate, codec and so forth. On the downside, it's essential to have a quick Internet connection. Remember that AIFF files are large and you want to add the file to the web conversion service. That's why that you must have a very good and steady Internet connection to upload the file.The tips will sh you how to step-by-step convert AIFF to MP3 with the highly effective AIFF to MP3 converter software. is a web-based changing tool that can be used to convert AIFF information to MP3 format. It could actually additionally convert recordsdata to WAV, OGG, M4A, AAC, MP4, and WMA. That is an internet program, so you needn't obtain any dedicated program to make use of to the tool.I talked to the senior audio software program engineer accountable for Switch and asked him why it is best to pay for conversion software program. He instructed me, Reliability, stability and high quality." He identified that NCH Software program has continually up to date and improved Change for more than 20 years, and each time a brand new model is released, it passes by a wide range of intensive inner testing procedures." If you're severe in regards to the quality of your music assortment and other audio files, it is price spending a few bucks to make sure the software program would not impart unwanted artifacts or noise in the course of the conversion process.

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Ffmpeg Convert Aiff To Mp3. GitHub

AIFF MP3 Converter konvertuje soubory AIFF do MP3 a MP3 do AIFF. To transform songs presently in your iTunes library, open the software program and find the Preferences menu from the iTunes dropdown on a Mac or Edit dropdown on a Windows laptop. Next, click the Normal tab, then find the Import Settings in the lower part of the Preferences window. After that, click on the dropdown next to Import Using, select the format and click on OKAY to avoid wasting that import format because the default setting. iTunes allows for http://www.audio-transcoder.com batch changing, so the final step is to pick all the information you need to convert, click on the File menu, then choose Convert and click on on Create MP3 Model. If you happen to selected a unique output format, it shows that format rather than MP3. Do your eyes cross when you see all of the audio format options to select from in the Bandcamp download menu? The good news is you can DJ with all of them, but every file sort offers different audio resolution, file measurement, and software compatibility. Here's an easy breakdown of audio file types particularly for DJs, including how rather more you'll be able to count on to pay if you wish to step up from MP3s.

Will it ever be attainable to do what I described in the first paragraph? As I mentioned, not with typical laptop expertise. Neural networks, although, are another matter. Most small child can hear a piece of complex music and pick the individuals singing words, and hear the individual devices (or sections of the same instrument taking part in the identical notes) from the combination - even if they don't know the names of the instruments, they will still hear that the tones made by a flute sound very totally different from those made by a violin, which in flip are totally different from those made by an electric guitar with high distortion or fuzz results. Moreover, the kid does this in actual time, and would not have to think about performing Fast-Fourier Transforms and other complicated math analyses on the analog audio waveforms coming into their brains via the cochlear nerves of their interior ears in response to vibrations of their eardrums. Because the name suggests, it's an online changing instrument used to transform recordsdata from one format to a different that you simply like. It helps conversion from a huge listing of file formats together with and may convert audio, video, eBooks, paperwork, archive, photographs and so forth from one format to other. You may as well convert AIFF to MP3. However picture codecs such asAI andEPS, or sound formats such asMID andMUS, do not comprise actual picture or sound information, however moderately the commands wanted to generate them. AnEPS of a sketch of the Mona Lisa would have the actual curves of the sketch in a format that the pc understands and might display to the person. The pc can manipulate every curve independently, even the place it overlaps different curves, without disturbing them. Likewise, a MIDI file of the Fifth Symphony has tracks or channels for each of the instruments, and the notes and velocities and other instructions for every of these in a means the computer understands and might manipulate. You may change the person notes of a person instrument with out affecting the opposite sounds that happen throughout the identical time. You'll be able to't try this with aWAV orMP3. I noticed a tweet right this moment from @drthomasho to @gardenglen saying he was having trouble figuring out easy methods to switch anAIFF file, which he recorded with our iTalk Recorder app , to MP3 format. MP3 Mac Converter might help import audio to MP3 device like iPad, iPod, iPhone, convert large aiff to mp3 online Apple TV, PSP, BlackBerry, Creative Zen, iRiver, Zune, Palm, Cell Cellphone etc on Mac. AIFF stands for Audio Interchange File Format and it is a lossless format meant to stream several audio tracks from the computer to a dedicated software. Easily convert your AIFF files to MP3 format by importing them under. Conversion to MP3 will begin automatically. When you will have some AIFF files solely, you won't have to contemplate in regards to the MP3 quality. As for the case, you can use Zamzar instead. It's a in style file converter online website, which turn AIFF file to a MP3 audio file with ease. But you are not in a position to customise the parameters for the output MP3 file. Pattern Fee: Select the sample fee: 8000 Hz, 11025 Hz, 22050 Hz, 44100 Hz and 48000 Hz. Similar to bit price, changing sample charge adjustments filesize. 44100 Hz (44.1 kHz) and 48000 Hz (48 kHz) are the standard ones. No tech data required. Intuitive interface makes it straightforward for everyone to be the grasp of audio conversions. When you do not know what bit price or frequency to choose the wizard of this system will routinely set essentially the most applicable. The tips will sh you easy methods to step by step convert AIFF to MP3 with the highly effective AIFF to MP3 converter software. is a web-based changing device that can be utilized to transform AIFF files to MP3 format. It may possibly additionally convert files to WAV, OGG, M4A, AAC, MP4, and WMA. This is an internet program, so you needn't download any dedicated program to use to the software. I talked to the senior audio software engineer in charge of Switch and requested him why it is best to pay for conversion software. He told me, Reliability, stability and www.goodreads.com high quality." He identified that NCH Software has consistently up to date and improved Swap for greater than 20 years, and each time a brand new model is released, it passes by way of a wide range of intensive internal testing procedures." If you're critical in regards to the high quality of your music collection and different audio recordsdata, it is value spending a few bucks to make sure the software does not impart undesirable artifacts or noise in the course of the conversion course of.

[studyign]

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Hey! I’m just starting college for graphic design. Do you have any tips or advice to share?

HELLO AND CONGRATS ON PICKING THE BEST POSSIBLE MAJOR

So here are the essentials of the experience I took away from design school (a lot of this is repurposed from this ask from like 100 years ago):

Use this as practice for the real world:This experience may vary from program to program, but in my design program they didn’t treat us like students. It was like the teachers were the art directors at a design firm and we were their designers. Homework didn’t feel like homework. It felt like a job. I haven’t felt like a student since I graduated high school, and that’s really good preparation for the professional world.Teach yourself:The thing about working with design software programs is that they’re really complicated and powerful so it’s hard to actually sit down and teach an entire class how to use them, so we had to teach ourselves a lot of this stuff. I’m almost entirely self-taught when it comes to Adobe programs, as are a lot of people from my program. That’s a really good thing, in my opinion. Again, it’s very good preparation for the professional world.

You will be tired:Design school was VERY HARD PHYSICALLY for me, but the intensity of a person’s experience in design school depends entirely on the program they enroll in. I went to a design school that’s infamous for the difficulty of the program. Junior and senior year I would be pulling all-nighters EVERY WEEK OF THE SEMESTER, FROM THE FIRST WEEK OF THE SEMESTER. This is no exaggeration. For two straight years, I needed to think of my days as 48-hour periods, rather than 24-hour periods, because the volume of work was just that great. I lost 30 lbs in undergrad and was always sick and anxious and was in therapy twice a week because it’s very intense, but also I am OBSESSED with graphic design and loved every minute even though I also thought I was dying the entire time!!

BEING A GRAPHIC DESIGN STUDENT IS SUPER EXPENSIVE:Again, may vary depending on the program. But in my program we had to produce hand-made comps of all of our print work. Paper and printing is expensive as fuck, especially for ambitious one-off student stuff. A lot of us opted to buy our own large-format printers and keep them in our apartments to avoid paying out the nose for school printing. And if you don’t want to depend on school lab hours, you need a computer, Adobe programs (I sprung for Creative Cloud), and, in my program, an iPad was an absolute requirement. It’s SO. EXPENSIVE.

The difference between majoring in graphic design vs fine art:I originally went to art school for fine art before I discovered graphic design. I studied fine art in Rome. I love fine art. I just love graphic design A LOT MORE and that’s because the real purpose of graphic design is COMMUNICATION. Fine art is subjective, whereas graphic design is problem solving. It’s way more intellectually stimulating, in my opinion. Yes, there are always tons of different ways to solve a design problem, but there are also wrong answers to design problems. You don’t have the crutch of subjectivity to lean on with design. I LOVE THAT.

SO WITH ALL OF THAT AS CONTEXT, MY ADVICE IS:

MAKE SURE YOU SLEEP. If you sleep, you’ll work faster and smarter, and you won’t get sick. I did not do this in school, and I was physically and mentally breaking down at least twice a week, and I wasn’t designing to the best of my ability. 

ACCEPT CRITIQUE Remember that you’re there to learn, and that everyone is in the same boat as you are!

BUILD REFERENCE LIBRARIES for inspiration, for education, etc. I personally like to use Pinterest to keep track of strong branding, layouts, typography, etc. I refer to these reference boards daily at work and am always adding to them!

GET A LYNDA.COM SUBSCRIPTION Lynda is a LIFE SAVER. It has tons of online courses in the Adobe programs, coding, project management, EVERYTHING. It’s literally how I learned every program I use every day at work. I still use Lynda for my job. I’m on there at least once a week. There’s even a student subscription rate! My design program actually had a group subscription for all its students, so see if yours does too!

JOIN THE AIGA (American Institute of Graphic Arts) It’s a professional organization for graphic designers and it’s really worth being a member. You get access to their mentor/mentee program (where you can pair up with an experienced designer), you have access to job boards, industry events, and designer directories, and it’s in general a good way to network.