#it's not my WiFi or phone because every other app is working normally

[gabiwnomagic]

Is the Tumblr app becoming unscrollable for anyone else? I can't get very far down my dash without it not being able to load properly- and this has been going on for a few weeks

[violet-rose-95]

Anything Helps: Phone Bill ($50) Due Tuesday

So... you know I hate doing this. But I need help again.

You all were able to help me when my phone fell in the bath and I had to get it fixed. That was a godsend, I could never thank you enough for that. But now I'm in another bad financial situation.

My dad just quit his job. For the past year and a half or so, he has been the sole source of income between the two of us, because I have an arrest on my record and no one is willing to hire me. But now he's quit, which means he has no income, which means we don't have the means to pay for rent for the two of us, which means my housing situation is fucked. Now, I'm working with my case manager to get some kind of transitional housing situation sorted out, but there's a bigger problem;

My phone bill is due tomorrow. As I made it clear in the last post I had to make like this, my phone is my whole life. It's the way I keep in communication with the courts and the rehab clinic I've been court-ordered to attend. Because my uncle literally HIDES the wifi password from me and my dad, it's my ONLY access to the internet apart from going to the library, which closes early on Fridays and Saturdays and is closed on Sundays, meaning without my phone I have NO internet connection on those days. But not only that, it is the ONLY access I have to my ridesharing app, which I use to be able to get around town, most importantly it gets me to the train station so I can attend my drug tests. Without access to my ridesharing app, it's an HOUR from my house to the train station, and being disabled, that is not a trek I can just make every day. I made that trek ONCE when my phone was broken, and it fucked up my whole week, physically.

Normally, my dad, who has been supporting himself and me for the past year, is able to pay for my phone bill, but like I said, he just quit his job, which not only means he has no income, which means we have no rent, but it also means I can no longer pay my phone bill.

Without my phone bill being paid, I cannot make calls or receive texts, meaning I can't contact the court or the clinic. Without my phone bill, I can't access the internet, meaning I can't coordinate my schedule or stay in touch with my social circle. Without my phone bill, I can't access my ridesharing app, so I can't make it to the train station or to other areas I use to access the internet.

My phone bill is $50 and some change. Thank goodness the taxes are relatively low. If I can just get $50 by tomorrow, I'll be able to stay in touch with the court, I'll be able to access the internet, and I'll be able to access my only means of transportation.

I hate that I have to keep doing this. I hate that I'm in this situation where I keep having to depend on the kindness of strangers. I feel like a leech every time I do it. But I also am surprised every time that, somehow, this actually works, and I can't thank you enough for your kindness.

One day, when I'm in better financial waters and I can afford to give back, I want to give back to all the people who have helped me over the years. I want to be the person who gives to people in need... cuz I know what it's like to be in need... and it sucks.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (1021): Mon 6th Jan 2025

For some reason the WiFi on my phone has started working perfectly which is a first because since Mam got this new router in order to get the signal on my phone when I’m in my room I have to hold it at a certain angle at a certain corner or the room at twenty minutes past three in the morning. This evening I came home from work and clicked on the Twitter app on my phone and normally there’s about four minutes of buffering before it finally loads but tonight it did it straight away. I haven’t moved the router or rebooted it or anything it seems to have just randomly decided to start doing its job properly. I can only assume God has seen the drawing of the vampire with an arse for a face that Luna and I did the other day which I christened “Count Crackula” and it made God laugh so hard that he decided that he was going to fix my WiFi as a little treat for me. That’s the only possible explanation. This got me thinking about if God exists it must be impossible to make him laugh because he knows everything as consequently knows the punchline to every joke ever written and every joke yet to be written. You wouldn’t even be able to make him laugh by getting your cock out and wiggling it around so Keith Allen definitely wouldn’t be able to make God laugh. So realistically the only way you could ever make God laugh is if you tickled him but presumably he doesn’t have a physical body he might just be a beam of light or energy or something. I think given the choice I’d love to take the form of a ball of light rather than have a body because a ball of light can’t get fucking mouth ulcers plus I could get a job working in a lighthouse. I wouldn’t even have to do anything I’d just sit at the top of the lighthouse and the ships would see me, I wouldn’t even need to be awake. Speaking of lighthouses, presumably moths would see the light emanating from the lighthouse and chase or around in circles for hours on end. Really there should be a giant ring of dead moths around every lighthouse that have all died from exhaustion due to chasing the fucking light around all night*. 

*At this point I swear to God I genuinely had to go back to the top of the page to see what I was originally writing about when I started todays fucking blog because I’d babbled on for so long I forgot how it started. 

[angusbradley]

How to setup your Childs iPhone to keep them safe

I've been asked by a few people how to make their children's phones safer. I'm pretty concerned about the effect of always on internet for children (and adults) so I restrict how much time they can spend online, as well as what they can see and do.

The good news is it's easy with an iphone. It is much easier to do if you do it before you give your child a phone. You can do a lot of this with android, but I find the iphone is easier to keep restricted.

General

Lock down your wifi to block adult sites. 

This is generally a good idea, but if you want to use gun sites (or porn!) you will need to use mobile data, so could be annoying for adults. This is more for protecting other devices like uncontrolled tables or laptops, so its still a good idea. If you turn this on, you may occasionally have trouble with some fairly normal sites, if your internet provider has messed up the list of sites they block. To check if its on, connect over wifi, and see if you can visit any dodgy site!

Iphone specific

Setup screentime (ideally do it before you hand over the phone!)

On your phone turn on Family Sharing, and add child accounts - full instructions below*

Pretty much all the controls below are in the screentime menu, in the settings app.

Setup ask to Buy

under Family sharing, tap your kids name, and choose ask to buy - then they have to ask you before they buy anything

Limit time (in screentime)

setup up downtine, e.g just make the phone useless between 10pm and 6am

Setup app limits - if you're worried about an app (looking at you TicToc - some kids spend 6hours+ a day on this), you can set up limits for apps in screentime

setup always allowed. e.g you may want your child to always be able to make a call, or use a sleep app.

Turn off mobile use of porn / guns etc (content & privacy)

Go to Content & Privacy and turn what you want off.

Stop change of passcode and accounts (content & privacy)

Sometimes, its a good idea to be able to read your childs messages. If they're having a hard time or mental health issues. So if you can agree with them that you need to know their passcode, you can set it so they cannot change it - just check 'don't allow' for passcode changes and account changes.

turn off passcode changes & account changes

For young children (content & privacy)

I think it's a good idea to limit who they can contact, so I only allow my 10 year old to speak / text/ call people I approve first. 

These settings game centre will help stop them chatting to randoms.]

This only works for phone and imessage - so if you let them install whatsapp, snapchat etc then you lose any control over whom they talk with. So I only let them install stuff I approve, and that means no whatsapp for until they're a bit older.

Game centre - restrict messaging

and under Communication limits, you can choose to manage your childs contacts - so you can control who they speak with. this only works for phone and imessage  - so if you let them install whatsapp, then you lose any control.

contacts - restrict contacts

Finally

Check these settings every few months. Kids are great at working ou the passcode and turning them off

Setting up screentime - in full

How to set up Screen Time on your kid's device:

Tap the Settings icon.

Tap Screen Time.

Tap "This is My Child's iPhone."

Follow the prompts and then create a passcode.

This code is different from the one you use to unlock your phone. Instead, it's a code you set so kids can't change the settings. Remember to write down the passcode in a safe place because it's a real pain if you lose it. And don't share it with your kids.

How to set up Screen Time using your device:

Tap the Settings icon.

Tap your Apple ID.

Tap Set Up Family Sharing (this is the option you'll see if you don't have a family group set up already).

Tap Add Member, and then tap Create an Account for a Child. Then follow the prompts to create the account and read the privacy agreement.

Go back to the Family Sharing page, tap Screen Time, and then tap Add Child.

Enter your kid's Apple ID and a password. Note: This is their Apple ID password, not the one you'll use to control Screen Time.

On your kid's device, make sure to enter the Apple ID you've created.

[floral-poisons]

i see your requests are open, so could i request some interactions with [dorm leaders+Lilia] an mc who still has their phone from their world(and working wifi lol), and how they would react to the technology of a different world, and the internet(the memes)

(really love your writing, pls take these hearts <3<3<3)

hi anon!! thank you so much for the hearts!! i'm so happy you love my writing since i do put a lot of effort into this blog. i'm happy to fulfill this request! it's kind of a shame that mc didn't have their own phone on them (since i presume their homeworld is ours).

MALLEUS DRACONIA

such a device was...curious. because it was kind of like his tamagotchi. but it wasn’t exactly like it. it was a smart phone that he could touch and there was access to wifi.

“is this run by magic?” malleus asks you as he scrolls through the internet.

“no. it’s run by a battery much like your tamagotchi.”

“oh i see...how interesting.” he raised his eyebrows as he looked at an image. “what could this be?”

“okay! that’s enough scrolling time for you. would not wanna radicalize you on reddit.”

LILIA VANROUGE

“malleus would love this!” was his first response when he saw your phone. “he would be into a lot of your human things since he likes the simpler stuff.”

“do you still use this?”

“yeah of course i do.” you answer. “it’s still working. besides it also means i can check up on people in my home world.”

“i see, i see. what’s tik tok?”

“oh it’s a video app.” you wouldn’t expect lilia to be scrolling for hours after that.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

riddle probably had limited access to technology when he was younger. so he didn’t use his normal phone often. seeing your phone was kind of no different aside from all the different apps.

“instagram? is that your version of magicam?”

“yeah it is!” you lean closer as he scrolls through.

“that would be for cater...” he hands you the phone. “cool device. but i think i’ll stick to my own phone.”

“riddle you barely use your own phone.”

VIL SCHOENHEIT

“hmmm...vintage.” he looked at the phone. compared to the other devices, it wasn’t as advanced. it ran a lot slower too. “oh my. youtube?”

“it’s a video sight. they have a lot of videos i think you would like.” you immediately pulled up your beauty playlist.

“huh...my, my, she’s quite beautiful. who is this?” and he pointed to a very familiar face. “and who is this?”

“jackie aina. the best beauty blogger! and that’s james charles. don’t watch any of his videos. i know you would find the way he does makeup atrocious and his voice also atrocious.”

“i will take your word for it.”

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

there wasn’t much to pique leona’s interest. he’s not too interested in technology, mostly because he’s sleeping more than being online (maybe that’s why his mental health was better than yours since he wasn’t on social media).

but the memes on the other hand? that was something that piqued his interest.

“you like kittens don’t you?” you ask with a smirk on your face.

“i mean...yeah i guess. this orange cat reminds me of cheka.” he gestures to a video of an orange cat...well, being an orange cat.

“sounds like someone has a soft spot for his nephew~” you laughed upon hearing him groan at your response.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

“i’m very interested in these animal facts. i didn’t know octopi apparently punched fish because they felt like it!” you may have realized introducing azul to netflix was a bad idea. and candy crush. he managed to beat the first 1000 levels within two days.

“a service that has every single movie and tv show on it. i mean we have our own versions but the coral sea doesn’t exactly have internet.” azul was busy taking notes. “though these layouts could be used to improve the current ones.”

“azul stop thinking business. just relax.” you smile.

“well then i guess we can watch some disney+.”

“and this is getting too meta.” you took your phone away.

KALIM AL-ASIM

kalim’s into the memes and the vines. you regret showing him vines especially because now he’s just spouting out famous vines whenever he gets the chance to.

“two bros sitting in a hot tub five feet apart ‘cus they’re not gay!” he sings as he cooks.

“look at all these chickens!” kalim presents the large amount of chicken he made for your visit to scarabia.

“...and they were roommates...” you said.

“they were roommates!” his eyes sparkled.

IDIA SHROUD

honestly, idia could care less about the internet and whatever possibilities it has. because this type of technology doesn’t exist. and much to your disappointment, he takes your phone apart.

“idia! can you put my phone back together and give it back? please!” you whine.

he shoves a flash drive into your hand. “here’s everything from your phone. i think maybe i can incorporate some of this technology into ortho-”

“i don’t think that will work idia.”

“never say never. i can make anything work.”

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

i know that i go on about it literally at the same time EVERY month….. but like….. i am SO SICK OF my internet just deciding to randomly drop out for literally like a week or two every fucking month while the bill period rolls over.

like imagine if i was working from home???? how the FUCK am i meant to do that when for a week or 2 every month when my internet/wifi connection drops out completely and i can’t work from my laptops bc they don’t connect to the 4G network???? like what am i supposed to do for that span of time??? just y’know take time off for that week/two weeks while my internet just refuses to rectify itself and run on normal speeds and not literally (i’m using this joke all the time now) like early to mid 2000s dial up speeds???? like obvs yeah i could make my phone a hotspot….. but for two weeks that takes up a lot of data????

and it’s even worse rn bc im job searching and since literally EVERYTHING makes you apply online, the job app websites like seek/jora etc literally take like 5 minutes to load just one page of jobs or a job description….. but it won’t even load the ACTUAL application????

and then social media barely loads at all (although i’m so used to this happening on here tbh lmao)….. like imagine if i had a job in social media where i’d be monitoring the 20+ social media platforms that businesses need to run and obtain customers etc these days???? what the FUCK am i supposed to do??? or imagine if i was bothered to run my own online business???? and for a week/2 weeks i just can’t reach customers because my internet/wifi just won’t load their complaints/issues/questions/sales data etc etc etc???? like what the ACTUAL FUCK telstra???

it’s also the main reason why i dropped out of my online uni library course too…. bc i got so sick of my internet dropping out halfway through 3hr lectures and forum boards and all the other stuff i had to do for it. or dropping out exactly when i had assignments due???? and that’s not even considered a good excuse not to turn assignments in late, even when you’re doing a course that’s 100% online??? like what an absolute fucking joke????

[leggomylino]

❧

Just after he died, he sat up. 

You stare at your game, completely dumbfounded.

What the heck?! I know I just killed him with that last attack! I totally crushed the sorry little--

“Ding!”

“Ahh!”

You nearly drop your DS in a state of panic.

“What? Who? Where?!”

“Ding! Ding!” 

Slowly you look toward the only source of light in your room, other than your game screens and whatever’s managing to peek in through your curtains. With a shaky breath of past anxiety you crawl across the cream-colored carpet of your bedroom to lift your phone off the desk, stopping next to a grape juice stain that was 100% Han Jisung’s fault.

Speaking of Han Jisung...

Crap, you’d completely forgotten about him! You rush to the window, opening it just as a rock comes flying for your face, having to duck to avoid a black eye or a chipped tooth.   This guy. You peer down at him from your second story window.

“What the heck are you doing?! You almost killed me!” “Killed you?! I was aiming for the window not you!” You have to stifle a laugh at seeing him soaking wet from the automatic timed sprinklers in the neighbor’s yard, but it doesn’t go so well.

“Ha-ha, yes, laughing at my misery just like the rest of them. Hyunjin and Jeongin totally have corrupted you, liar…” You roll your eyes before throwing him a Sailor Moon blanket that could use a good run through the wash anyway, traces of a smile still evident on your face. “Geez, quit being such a whiny baby. I’m coming down, okay? Meet me out front!” “You expect me to trek back through no-man’s land?! What if my computer gets━”

That’s the last thing you heard, since you’d already rounded the corner on your way down the hall. You make a quick job of retying the messy bun of your I-may-or-may-not-have-been-brushed-in-the-past-twenty-four-hours hair before sliding down the rail of your staircase like a pro and swinging the front door open. Han meets you with a sour look on his face. He and Sailor Moon are both soaking wet, but somehow Luna and his laptop had managed to make it out unscathed. “I’m telling on you.”

“To who?” you laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “Hurry up and wait right here. I’ll go get you some fresh towels.”

He steps inside while his sour face turns quizzical, then slightly amused. “Hurry up and wait right here? The heck does that mean?”

“It means what it says! I mean, what it sounds like! Just…” You lock the door behind him, and he smiles. “How many cups this time?”

“......”

“C’mon, (y/n),” he chides, slinging off his pack at the door and tossing the wet blanket beside it. “How many?” Your brows furrow. “You’re not gonna tell on me, are you?”

His smile is nothing less than mischievous. “I dunno. Am I?” “Mrgrgr…” You march off to get him those fresh towels, your hostile movements warning him not to follow you, which he only laughs at and does anyway. ‘Cause that’s just the kind of jerk Han Jisung is. Smh.

The towels in the dryer are still warm from whence the cycle ended some hour and twenty minutes ago, so you toss him a couple of those and a smaller hand towel for his face or computer, whichever he decides to use it on. The pleasing scent of ginseng and honey-lavender dryer sheets wafts over your face and fills the small laundry room as you pull yourself out of the metallic chamber. “So what’s going on? Did you really come all the way over here just because you’re mad about the group text?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but the doorbell rings before he has a chance to answer. 

You blink towards the sound as realization crosses your face. “Wait right here. I’ll be right back!” You have to be careful as you scurry on sock-clad feet across the honey-brown floorboards to the front door again, passively on the lookout for any water Han tracked on his way in. You can’t help but smile with excitement as you fling the door open. You frown. So does Felix when he sees the look on your face. “Wow. Someone’s excited to see me.” “You’re not Jaemin,” you state dumbly. He manages to keep a completely stoic face as he shakes his head.

“No, I’m not. Who’s that?”

“My brother. I’m expecting him to come visit me soon. He does every Sunday.”

“I see.” He’s looking down at his phone, then pockets it a moment later whilst giving you a cheesy smile. “Are you gonna let me in? I’d hate to meet the same fate as Han. Especially because I just upgraded my phone for the new game release tomorrow.” You do your best to cast away your disappointment as you let him inside. “Yeah, whatever, come join the party.” You stick your head out the door to check left, then right, ensuring no other thots were left unaccounted for before locking up again. “You got other company or somethin’?” he asks, eyeing Han’s things.    “Nah, just Han. He stopped by like five minutes ago. He’s in the laundry room drying off.” You begin making your way back with Felix following a few steps behind you. “So what are you doing here? Also show me your phone, I wanna see! Wait, hold on, why do you need a new phone for Ultrascape? It’s not an app game, they’re only releasing it for Xbox and PS4. Also--” Felix begins to laugh a bit, eyeing you from above his phone screen that’d mysteriously found its way back into his hands. “Someone’s had coffee today. How many cups?” You groan as you break the threshold into the laundry room. “Seriously, you too? Why can’t you guys both just leave me alone…Hyunjin and Innie never give me a hard time about my drinking habits.” They both find amusement in your pouting, Han having just finished drying his laptop and tossing the towel into the hamper. “Wow, so you really do like them better than us. We can’t help it if it’s incredibly entertaining to make fun of your addiction problem.” “I wouldn’t say incredibly entertaining, but...yeah, pretty much.” the Australian boy agrees, giving a little shrug. He begins to mumble and ramble things into his shiny new phone screen. “Also it’s...y’know, kinda cute.” Something exotic washes over your cheeks and paints a picture of a sunny spring day on your insides, but you’re able to thankfully dismiss it as so thirty seconds ago as the doorbell rings yet a third time. This time when you open the door, you’re able to uphold the sheer joy on your face at seeing Jaemin smiling down at you with a drink carrier in one hand and a bouquet of lilies in the other. The ever-so-slight ombre tints in the roots of his light-dyed hair remind you of just how long it’s really been since you last saw him, even if it was only just a week. “I am Li-ly~ Of the va-lley~” he starts to sing, and you laugh, taking the drink carrier and giving him a cheesy wink. You sing back to humor him.    “Of the quiet peaceful valley over there~”

You fling your hand out into a random direction off yonder, and you both burst into a fit of giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the world. The moment you open the door to Jaemin’s weekly Sunday visits, every time, no matter what’s going on, the collection of stressful events and uninvited anxiety in your life just seems to melt away into nothing; one of the many things you loved about your brother. But Han Jisung doesn’t seem to get it, given the blank expression on his face as he’s staring the two of you down from ten feet away. He doesn’t say anything either, only making things that much more awkward. “Umm…” You put on another grin as you gesture to your brother like a Nobel prize, since he may as well be anyway. “Han, this is my brother Jaemin. This is Han Jisung, one of my friends I was telling you about.” you explain. Jaemin’s smile is genuine as he gives the young man a polite nod, the other doing the same in return. “A pleasure. Thank you for looking after (y/n) in my absence. I know she can be a handful the way she’s always running into things.” “You mean like trouble? Yeah, she does that a lot. You should have seen her when we introduced her to Minecraft. But yeah, the pleasure’s mine as well.” “Minecraft?” Jae gives you a strange look above his normally sunny disposition, to which you reply with a playful shove and a roll of your eyes.    “Yes Jae, Minecraft. Come on, you have to at least know that one.” “It’s not that I’ve never heard of it before. I’m just surprised you’re letting the season pass for League of Legends that I just bought you go to waste.” “I’m not!” you protest, stamping down your foot. “I just played a few rounds with Felix and Jeongin the other day!”

He shakes his head, tsking. “A few rounds...a hundred and eighty dollars down the toilet.” “Not so! We won! And I even...” Your voice trails off again as you look around, suddenly realizing something━ really someone━ is missing. You shoot Han a curious glare. “Where’s the other thot?” He’s engrossed in his phone like Felix was when he showed up at the door a bit ago, raising his eyebrows to show that he heard you. “Hm? Oh, he left about two seconds after you ran out of the other room. He got an emergency call from work.” “Oh…” You don’t mean to sound so disappointed, but it just comes out that way, and you can only hope the others didn’t notice. “Do you know what he came here for?” He mimics the action from before. “...Mmm...yeah, just a sec…” Just a sec quickly becomes a full minute, then two. You know the look on his face all too well. He’s definitely playing Fortnite. That’s what I get for giving him the WiFi password…

You grab Jaemin’s arm, pulling him away into the kitchen. Thankfully he doesn’t ask any questions. “Thanks for the coffee,” you say, pulling out your favorite particular beverage from the carrier after placing it on the island. Jaemin chuckles while searching the cabinets for a vase to put the flowers in. “It’s decaf, just so you know. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls after 3 pm, especially in your condition.” You frown at that last remark, but it doesn’t compare to the dreaded aura you send towards the thick stack of cards you failed to notice he’d been holding in his back pocket with a few smaller ones in the flowers. “What’s all that?” you ask; but you already know the answer. He’s eyeing you with warmth and delight, making it that much worse. “Why, this is your fan mail! I’ve got a tote bag full of them out in the car, but I just picked these up from the post-office on my way over. I thought they were for me because they were addressed in my name, but I think the girls must have gotten confused on who to address it to.” You scoff. No, they were just bold. Here’s the thing about your fan mail: It wasn’t for you. It was never for you. 

It was for Jaemin. Your supposed “fans” couldn’t give less of a hoot about you or your health. It was your strikingly handsome, fashionable, polished, boyfriend-material brother they were after. The moment your friends...who were never really your friends to begin with...the moment they found out you had a brother, and that that brother was Na Jaemin, well, they all about had a meltdown of lovesick heartache and went batsh*t crazy. It was then you realized they’d never really been your friends at all, that they’d just heard some petty rumor that you and Jae were dating, and when he cleared it up that oh, no, that’s only my sister, they just started using you to get closer to him. Word had spread over the time of your departure from the university, and after moving back home within the first two weeks one of those Mean Girls (probably Regina) thought it’d be a swell idea to send you a get-well card in order to get under your brothers good graces. And because your sweet caring brother also had to be such a gullible dumbass, he had to go and tweet the word out that it’d be so great to see more of these! thinking those girls actually cared. 

They cared alright, but not about you. So now you were getting mounds and mounds of these petty fake Get better! We’re always think of you! Hellmark greeting cards. And ironically, they were what fed your anxiety as of late. You open your mouth to finally tell Jaemin what’s really going on, because surely if he wasn’t getting it by now and the girls were getting this desperate it’d gone on long enough, but as you turn your eyes up to him from staring into the onyx marble counter-top something thin and sharp pierces a nerve in your gut. It’s Jaemin. You didn’t notice it before when he was standing so close, but now as you’re seeing him from across the kitchen, beneath the recessed lighting, he’s...thin. So thin. He’d always been slim, but never thin. He turns to the side, and you’re able to see his face now. His skin is a strange, almost translucent color, and there are deep purple blueberries under his eyes, the bags weighed down with hours and hours of lost sleep piled on by stress that shows in the poor coloration of his face. He’s still an attractive guy, of course, but...he looks like he’s auditioning for the role of Death. “Jaemin?” you say instead. Your voice comes out wavered, distorted, unsure. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” He turns his head all the way towards you, and you feel like an idiot for not noticing as soon as you opened the door. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiles. “Why do you ask?”

Bless his heart, he’s putting on that fake smile for your benefit. You can feel your protective mom instincts winding into submission, the ones that usually only kick in when Jeongin’s around or that time Jaemin got the flu. “I dunno, you just look really...tired.” You stand. “Do you wanna lie down? I can take care of the flowers. I’m pretty sure the guest room is still clean if━ or maybe if you wanna crash of the couch for a bit━” His laughter cuts you off, and he shakes his head while waving a hand at you. “I’m fine, really. I’m always tired, you know this. Besides,” He finds a clear blue vase, carefully arranging the flowers inside and filling it with water. “You’re the one that needs to be resting. Go make yourself comfortable in the living room and pick out something for us to watch.” “......” “...What? Did you want to play a game instead?”

❧

[𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 (𝚢/𝚗) 𝚍𝚘?   𝙵𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝   𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢   𝙱𝚊𝚐 ➤ 𝚁𝚞𝚗 ]

“......” You shake your head, wandering out into the living room.

❧

[𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎? ➤ 𝚈𝚎𝚜    𝙽𝚘]

[𝚂𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐… 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛…]

[(𝚢/𝚗) 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎.]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚢 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎  → 𝙽𝚊 𝙹𝚊𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗 |  [𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝙹𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡]

[ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙱/𝚈 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 //  ➤ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙰/𝚇 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 ]

[gia2o]

Time to get serious

I am getting to a point in my life where I need to regain my independence. I very much have this desire to just start chasing my dreams and start working. And really, not to be conceited in any way shape or form, but I really believe that just by the things I have gone through in my short almost twenty five years of life, in and out of my addiction, I can start building a career just by telling my story. I have been told by many people that I am good at painting the picture and I just have so many stories to tell. I was going to share a story with you guys tonight, and trust, this story is pretty wild, but I kind of have my heart set on doing research on how to get paid all while still doing what I love. I feel like that is something I can be consistent with. Just the amount of time I spend on here,if I spent it towards being able to write and get paid, I could potentially start being able to work from home. As a back up plan. I know it’s almost everyone’s dream to work from home, but I have so many ideas and an endless amount of ideas. I have a very long list of hundreds of topics I can write about in the notes app on my phone. And the topics, just by seeing them, I can think of exactly what I want to say and I really think they are topics that won’t only be fun to read, but will help others. There is an epidemic going on around the whole world right now, and what I have to say is more than relevant. I have been to jail, I have traveled, I have used and sold drugs. I have been in a world of trouble and I have also been in a world of bliss. A world of love and a world of heartbreak. Just like many of you reading this have too. I have so so so so so many messages from some of you telling me things like, “girl, I have been through something similar” or yadda yadda yadda and it is so touching to see those types of things. It reassures me that my posts make others not feel so alone and it sure as hell helps me not feel so alone. I was even thinking about starting a youtube channel. However, before I try that, I want to go ahead and try this first. Turning writing into a career has always been a huge dream of mine and if I could make even a little bit of money doing what I love, it will make me not want to give up. It will make it seem more practical for me to spend my time doing it. Not that I will ever stop writing, but I have heard time and time again: “if you are good at something, don’t do it for free”. And the reason making a youtube channel even crossed my mind is simply because of the generation we are in. People nowadays, addicts or not, are accustomed to instant gratification. I remember waiting for what seemed forever just to get online on dial up. And now, I find myself even I getting frustrated when it takes a few minutes to connect to wifi. I try not to forget “the struggle” but man, we have it made. And because of all of that, I know that despite what category or demographic the people online fit in, they might prefer to click on a youtube video and listen to someone tell a story, as opposed to taking the time to reading an article or a blog. But if others can do it, I believe in my heart, that I can too. And if for whatever reason I don’t succeed, I will forever be upset at myself for not trying. So I wont’ put this off until tomorrow or next week, I am going to start now. This isn’t something I have to prolong. And you guys, this is the first time I just asked my mom if I can use her laptop so that I can properly write and do my thing since mine broke. Because, let’s be honest. Having a computer to work on just feels so much more professional than even attempting to off a phone like I have been for way too long. So here I am, sitting at a desk, for the first time in awhile, typing away like a normal person and not taking forever to write a post this long because I actually have really good typing skills and finally have a keyboard in front of me again to do my thing. I used to get paid to write essays for students because of how quick I used to write them out as well as how legit they would end up turning out. I never got one complaint. I mean, if you’re still reading this, ya girl here literally took every English class my community class had to offer. Which I loved so much and wish there were more to take, but it sucks because now I have so much math to catch up on in order for me to transfer. And math to me, seems so damn impossible. I am not terrible with basic math and numbers and hell, Algebra 1 is my shit. But anything passed Geometry, no fucking thank you. I will do everything I can to find a way around that shit. Not cool. I am by no means a prodigy child or super artsy to be honest. But, English and music are just two things I adore. I have fun investing my time in those two things. And before I end this post, I just want to say, that because English is my second language, I truly believe that ended up helping me in the long wrong. Because I learn how to do this properly. I mean, usually when I am serious about writing something, I proofread it a bunch until I consider it perfect or as close to perfect as possible. There are a lot of times when I am rereading my posts on tumblr and I think I sound a little special... if ya’ll know what I mean. Just because I spelled something that I know how to spell wrong by accident, or if I made a stupid grammar mistake and I try to fix it before it gets any possible likes or reblogs. But on that note, I know this post is hella long, but I am just ranting. Time to do some research and take the first step on chasing one of my many dreams. Lord, I never ask this, but please pray for me. Goodnight, ya’ll.

[unforgetabelle]

A place to land

(4932 w)

ao3   fanfiction

Alya stared up at the flashing screen, her eyes repeatedly skipping between two different departures as the board scrolled through the day’s flights. One to St. Petersburg, the other to Vienna. Both left in thirty minutes, one headed where she should go and one where she wanted to go.

Resigning herself to the option she knew would win out in the end, she walked to sit in her terminal, took out her phone and texted Nino. Pausing only momentarily to gaze at the lock screen, a sunny picture of them both in Barcelona taken months before, she quickly opened up the messenger app and started typing.

How much longer are you in Vienna?

My gig is for another two weeks.  His reply took no more than a minute to come through and Alya smiled, leaning back into her seat. They were in the same time zone for once, but it was nearly 10 in the morning. There was only one reason Nino would be awake at that time on a Saturday, and it was because he was stalking her flight progress. Three years of a long distance relationship, each of them jetting off to often-times far flung places, and Nino still insisted on having detailed flight numbers and schedules of her travels. Without fail, he would track her progress until she reached her destination and called to check in. Her parents often joked that they never needed to worry about her travels because she had an ever present vigilante in Nino.

Her boyfriend wore the label with pride, and while she rolled her eyes at times, Nino was always quick to remind her of when she got stranded on a layover in southern India during monsoon season. Without cell service, and the wifi down, Alya had been sure she would be stuck in the country indefinitely, certainly missing Marinette’s line debut two days later. Nino, having tracked her progress, wasted no time in booking her a train north to an area where flights were not grounded and got her a one-way ticket to Paris. When a member of the airport staff had called for her and then proceeded to hand her a print out of the messengered tickets they received from Nino, Alya had never before been so grateful for Nino’s quirk.

With anyone else, his behaviour might seen crazy, but with Alya flying across the world constantly, to far off and sometimes to unfriendly regions, she knew it was his little way of looking out for her from afar. Besides, crazy was normal for them. And without Nino, Alya would have missed her best friend’s debut as a fashion designer. Without him, Alya would be traveling the word listlessly. She may not have an apartment as home base, but she had a Nino. He was her place to land, always. Her home, and she hadn’t been home in months.

The Austria flight was looking more and more appealing by the second.

Why? Nino texted again. She knew his schedule, so he (correctly) assumed there was an ulterior motive to her questioning.

How would you like an unexpected guest?

Alya held her breath, watching as his typing bubbles appeared on screen.

Depends. Is she a redhead? I have a soft spot for redheads ;)

Alya smiled at the comment. She’d known Nino for over a decade. He didn’t have a soft spot for redheads. He had a soft spot for her.

She’s currently veering dangerously towards a copper-head, she typed back with a grimace. Too much time in that Moroccan sun.

Alya grabbed a wayward curl, pulling it taut and nearly doubling its length. Morocco had been surprisingly humid during her time there and extremely sunny. Her mother would scold her SPF usage to see how dark her complexion had turned, and her hair, usually a subtle auburn, had lightened considerably. While she usually passed as brunette in most lights, there was no denying the decidedly orange turn her hair had taken.

A little more foxy than normal?

His reply came and Alya snorted out loud, drawing a bemused glance from those sitting near her. The word “foxy” took on an entirely new meaning between the two of them and Alya couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the reference. One halloween when they’d both happened to be in the US for work, she‘d thought it’d be funny to dress up and partake in the holiday. Finding a cute little fox onesie, she bought a box of temporary hair dye to match the orange color scheme. The hair dye, as it happened, was not temporary. Nor was Nino’s memory of the incident. Still, remembering him coming home to their apartment and finding her snuggled in the pajamas, with a matching turtle pair for him, was one she cherished. They leaned into the American tradition, watching zombie movies and handing out candy to the never-ending stream of trick-or-treaters that knocked on their door. Better to reminisce on the night itself than on the true horror that came days later when, her hair still orange, a bemused Nino fished the dye box out of the trash and read out her fate.

Choosing to ignore his bait, she responded.

Nothing a nice dose of Viennese winter won’t cure

Nah ;), his text came through with a wink. I’ll pass. Wouldn’t want to make my girlfriend jealous

Alya felt her face drop into a deadpan expression as she responded.

I think she’d be okay with it

I think she has an assignment in St. Petersburg for the next month, Nino shot back. If my calculations are correct, she’s on her way there right now.

Not if she changes course to Vienna

Alya

Nino

You are on your way to St. Petersburg, right?

She pursed her lips, looking up that the monitor that proudly displayed a departing flight to Russia, already starting to board, but felt her eyes wander to the terminal across the way. How hard would a ticket transfer really be? Would it hurt to at least check and see if there were seats available?

Yes, she finally texted back, resigned. But I could be on my way to Vienna. I’m in Prague. It’s a short flight from here!

Alya, don’t, his response came almost instantaneously and Alya felt a pout start to form on her face. Her boarding group was called and she reluctantly shouldered her bag and stood in line. Just to rub salt in the wound, she ended up directly behind a couple, arms wrapped around each other as they giggled at something on the girl’s phone. Alya’s own side felt dramatically cold watching them, but she tried not to be too bitter. How many times had she stood with Nino exactly the same way? Gushing over some comments on her articles or listening along to a new mix he’d pieced together? She’d inevitably laugh at something he said, triggering a chain of events so reliable she could set her watch by it.

His hand would squeeze her side. She’d look up with a smile. He’d place a kiss on the tip of her nose. She’d crinkle it in response and then frown until he gave her a proper kiss.

Someone else might call it predictable, but Alya called it tradition. They’re own little ritual. It had been over a year since she’d been in Paris and seen her family, almost a year since she’d seen Marinette, and four months since she’d seen Nino. She’d been so far from any semblance of home for so long. For someone many would consider rootless, Alya craved her traditions, especially with Nino.

We haven’t been this close in forever. Alya knew her whine would be easily detected through text, but she didn’t care. She rarely whined.  Not a needy person in general, the sentiment carried over to how she was in a relationship. It was a big part of the reason why she and Nino could be apart for long periods without either of them going insane. They found contentment in each other no matter the distance. Even the months they lived side by side, neither was attached at the hip, easily sharing their time while still remaining independent people over all. He was her complement in every way. They both valued their space just as much as their intimacy.

And when they were apart, even in the moments she missed him like crazy, she had very much a ‘keep calm and carry on’ attitude. They were solid, and he was only a phone call away. Their separations were always temporary, and as far flung as they traveled, home was always a call, or a plane, away.

Still, even the calm and collected Alya Cesaire gave in and whined every once in a while when she missed her boyfriend. Balance was the key to any relationship, after all.

Don’t you miss me? She asked, trying to suppress her smile as his response came immediately.

That’s a ridiculous question, the green dialogue bubble popped up, followed aggressively by two more. I haven’t seen you in months, the second read before being pushed up by a third. I missed you as soon as you stepped on the plane in August.

Then it’s decided. I’ll see you in Vienna!

Alya, no. You have to go to St. Petersburg. Nino’s messaged pinged as she handed her passport to the smiling flight attendant.You already accepted the contract. Isn’t this the story for that anthropology magazine you’re trying to work for?

Yes…

And you’re just going to, what? Not do it? Nino’s messages started coming in with a fury, but Alya was having far too much fun to break the news that she was already on the plane.

Alya Charlot Cesaire, he spelled her full name deliberately. Are you running AWAY from a story?

No. She typed back insistently, annoyance at his accusation pricking even as she knew he was baiting her. I’d be running TOWARDS my boyfriend

What happened?

Why does something have to have happened? She asked as she walked onto the already crowded plane, making her way slowly towards the budget seats in the back. A seat was a seat, and for a two hour flight, she was not paying a 150% markup for the promise of 2 centimeters more legroom.

Because Alya Charlot Cesaire does not run from her responsibilities, and she never breaks a commitment once made. Nino wrote back. How do you think I convinced her to stick with this travel weary DJ?

1.Stop referring to me by my full name, you weirdo. I feel like my mother is scolding me. Alya rolled her eyes, typing in her second to the list before stowing her bag in the overhead and falling into her seat with a plop. 2.Let me live my life

The last of her row to arrive, Alya sunk into her aisle seat and buckled up. Sharing a polite smile with her row mates to be civil, she quickly turned back to her phone to protect herself from opening up the floor for any airplane-small-talk--arguably, the worst incarnation of the discourse.  

And you’re stuck with ME, she added after Nino hadn’t responded in a few minutes. Which is why I’ll see you in Vienna in a few hours. BYE!

Alya, his answer came instantly, but she didn’t respond.

ALYA, he tried again. DO NOT GO TO VIENNA

Why :(, she shot back. I’ve never been to Vienna! It’ll be educational!

She saw his typing bubbles pop up, but didn’t give him the chance to interject.

I can even make a few blog posts about it, she wrote.Come on. Show me around your home of the last few months!

His typing progress appeared and disappeared a few times before his answer came through.

Alya, no, he finally responded, just when Alya started to worry she had actually managed to convince him. Nino appeared to be soft spoken to most people, but Alya knew he was as stubborn as she was once he made up his mind. For her entertainment value that morning, she was counting on it.

Please?

No

Nino :(

No

Pleeeaaassseee??? She added the letters to draw out her whine, and smiled when she saw his response hesitate.

...No?

Alya chuckled, mentally amending her earlier evaluation of Nino’s resolve. He was stubborn...until it came to her.

:D That was practically a maybe

That was my will weakening as I imagined your damn pleading eyes, he responded, And that stupidly cute dimple you get in your left cheek when you pout. Alya could practically see him now, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

God dammit, Alya!

Admit it, she texted back, smile on her face in full force now. You miss me

I have admitted it, he wrote back. In this very conversation, no less

She felt a soft smile come to her face, as she leaned back into the seat. The flight attendants were saying something over the loudspeaker now, but she was only paying attention to Nino.

Doesn’t mean I think you should come to Vienna

But, Niiinnnnoooooo

Stop. You have a job to do, his response came through, and Alya knew instantly she was dealing with serious Nino now. One after another, the statements popped up in her messenger.

You have contacts waiting for you

People you’ve been emailing for months in preparation for this

People who trust you

People whose story you promised to tell

Are you really going to up and desert them?

:( Alya texted back with a sigh, and though Nino had ended her fun, her heart warmed. He got it. He understood why it mattered; understood the compulsion she felt to explore the world, telling people’s stories. He understood her, even in the moments she really wished she could be the type of person to throw responsibility to the wind and go see her love.

Just two more months, he wrote, instantly consoling. We’re going to spend all of February together in Reykjavik. 28 whole days. You’ll be sick of me by the end.

Impossible, she wrote back. I will never get sick of you. Of that, I am positive.

Her neighbor opened the visor on the window, and a flash of gold on her finger urged her to add, And I have a ring on my finger to prove it

You have my class ring--which you stole--on your finger, his response came, and Alya imagined Nino rolling his eyes on the other end.

Same thing

Absolutely NOT the same thing, Nino wrote, taking her bait as he always did.(And when I offer you the real thing, you better act excited, and not like we’ve been engaged since uni)

It was an open joke with their friends and families about when the two would ‘settle down’. To Alya, it really didn’t matter. Nino was her other half, and everyone who was important knew that. She didn’t need a slip of paper or a party to announce that to the world. Nino, on the other hand, took the topic of their marriage very seriously. While he hadn’t proposed to her in so many words, Alya never doubted the inevitability of their marriage. The official commitment in the act was important to Nino, so whatever her personal feelings about the redundancy of it, it was important to her by proxy.

Nino, you’ve been stuck with me since lycee, she reminded him gently. Ring or no ring.

But , she added with a smile. I’m a fantastic actress and I promise I’ll give you your movie-magic proposal moment

Remind me how I ended up with you again? His response came, reading in a fondly exasperated tone.

Sheer luck and a bizarre zoo incarceration :)

Nino sent a smiling face back before changing back to the topic at hand.

How much time until you leave for PIE?

A few minutes, she admitted. I’ve been on the plane for a while

I figured

I still miss you. Next time, I’ll actually be getting on the other plane

If you had set your mind to come, there would be no stopping you. I wouldn’t bother to even try

Alya smiled at her phone,

Good, as long as we’re clear

Call me when you get there

Yes, sir

I love you

I love you, too, she typed.Even though you refuse to let me come tell you so in person.

Nino sent an annoyed face, but she wasn’t done.

I’m just so unwanted :(

Believe me, his response appeared. Nothing could be farther from the truth

Oh? Do tell ;)

His typing bubbled hesitated, before a wink emoji appeared teasingly on the screen.

Spoilsport, she responded, her eyes catching the flight attendant as she started to make her way down the aisle, no doubt beginning to instruct them to turn their phones to airplane mode.

It’s a good thing you’re so cute, she continued in a hurry. Otherwise I’d have tired of your antics long ago

Yes. Thank god for my devilishly good looks and charm

Who said anything about charm? She asked, blinking innocently at her phone as if he could see her facial expression through it.

My girlfriend. Do you know her? He wrote.Tall. Red hair. Loves to mock me?

Great ass?  She typed back, just as the attendant passed and gave her the stink eye for not heeding her ‘shut off and store’ warning.

The best

You lucky boy, she risked one last message, catching his response just as she went to switch off her service and the plane began to move.

Don’t I know it ;)

~*~

Nino looked at the monitor to confirm the flight one more time before finding somewhere to sit and wait. He let an exhausted sigh release from his body as he settled into the cool metal bench and let the familiar sounds of travelers calm him even as his fidgeted with the small ring circling his pinky.

Airports had always been a comfort to him. Even in his earliest memories, they were a constant. What started as multiple trips a year to visit family abroad had evolved into his roaming lifestyle, and throughout it all, airports were a constant. No matter where you were, whichever culture and whatever language, airports all felt the same. There was a familiar logic and atmosphere to the transit hubs, and Nino had always felt at home on these cusps between worlds.

In the last few years, airports had taken on even more meaning to him. They represented the worst and best moments in his life. So many times, in the stark fluorescent light and gleam of over-polished tile, he’d watched her walk away from him. His only consolation was knowing that months later, he and airports would once again be on good terms, because as many times as he’d watched her walk away from him, Alya would always walk towards him once more. Nino never had any doubt that she’d be back. Alya always came back to him, and he to her. No matter how long they were apart, or how far they traveled, they anchored each other.

People often viewed the depth of their relationship with incredulity. How could people who were apart so often truly have anything lasting and stable? Even his best friend looked at them with confusion at times. While Adrien was the last person to question their dedication to each other, he often wondered how Nino could stand being away from her so long. His dude was on edge after only a week away from his home and his wife. Nino and Alya’s far-flung relationship was probably Adrien’s nightmare, and a part of Nino understood where he was coming from.

He’d be lying if he said he preferred the long absences of his other half, but it didn’t throw him into anxiety like it did Adrien. Alya had a passion just like he did, both of them chasing dreams and music and stories wherever they called. It was such a large part of what made them who they were as individuals, sacrificing it for the sake of being in the same geographical location had always seemed frivolous.

And while they both had plans to settle one day--or at least, to control their careers enough to be vagabonds together--even if it stayed like this forever, Nino wouldn’t trade it for a stationary life with anyone else. A week by Alya’s side was worth an eternity with anyone else, and despite her teasing, he knew she felt the exact same way. Nino may not always know what city he would live in next, or when the music would call him, but if there was one thing he was forever sure of, it was her. Alya was his home. Wherever he traveled, he knew she held half his heart, a beacon guiding him to wherever she was should he ever find himself too weary of his roaming.

Which, currently, happened to land him in St. Petersburg.

When the owner of a franchise of clubs had approached him about a month-long gig in Russia the week before, Nino wasted no time jumping at the opportunity. His current location had certainly given him exposure over his months there, but he had tired of living his life with the constant possibility of being dropped from the schedule. They contracted him weekly, which wasn’t unheard of in the industry, but after being a regular for two months, Nino had expected some confidence to be reflected in an actual contract. It wasn’t. While he was prepared to finish out the three month engagement they had agreed on verbally, when he was offered the opportunity to move along two weeks prematurely, he felt no remorse about informing the club about his change of plans. He’d appreciated his run, and had secured multiple invitations from talent hunters of other cities while there, but the owners had never felt the need to formally bind him to stay the length, and therefore put their money where their mouth was. Which made it all the easier for Nino to jump at the opportunity that would take him to where he truly wanted to be. And to whom he truly wanted to be with.

A week later he was in St. Petersburg.

A gush of air announced the opening of the automatic doors leading out from the international baggage terminal, and Nino was instantly on his feet. The St. Petersburg airport wasn’t busy in the early afternoon on a Saturday, but Nino would have found her had she been one in a crowd of thousands. Hair knotted in a long braid that fell in an escaping tangle over her shoulder and rucksack secured to her back, Alya walked through the doors in a huddle of other passengers, nose already pointed at her notebook as she prepared for her next piece. As convincing as her promises to drop it all and come find him in Vienna would have been to anyone else, Nino knew better. Nothing could keep her from a story for long, especially not one she’d been preparing for over six months. A decade of growing up by her side, and nothing had changed that.

Which Nino was grateful for, otherwise her impulse earlier would have turned his carefully planned surprise into a unfortunate missed connection.

Nino smiled as he tried to catch up, watching her artfully weave her way around other travelers, eyes never once leaving her notes as she made her way towards the exit. Alya only stopped when the sliding doors opened and a rush of winter air reminded her she certainly wasn’t in Tangier anymore. Tucking her book under her arm, she reached to pull gloves out of her pocket, one falling behind her, directly where his feet had just come to rest. He snapped down to get it and was waiting as she turned to look for the lost article.

Eyes scanning the floor first, Nino tried not to laugh at the comical nature in which her gaze froze as they reached his boots--the same ones she’d bought him for Christmas last year--before shooting to his face. He didn’t even had the chance to speak her name before Alya was in his arms. He buried his nose in her hair as she wedged her face against his neck and Nino took his first easy breath in a month. Yes, they had no qualms about living apart, but that didn’t negate the fact that the shape of her pressed against him was something  his body mourned like a missing limb when she was gone. She wasn’t necessary, but his life was better when she was in it. Only in her presence, did he feel truly whole.

Just as he closed his eyes, savoring her nearness at last, the love of his life and other half of his heart pulled away and deftly punched him in the arm.

“Don’t, Alya,” she glared at him, her voice deepening in the approximation of a man’s. “You need to go to St. Petersburg, Alya.”

“Is that supposed to be me,” he grimaced, adjusting his glasses but not avoiding her gaze. Even annoyed, he didn’t want to miss a second of her.

“You’re a little shit, you know that? I can’t come to Vienna, but you can drop everything and come to St. Petersburg?”

Alya planted her hands on her hips, but didn’t move away when he stepped forward, grabbing her one bare hand and beginning to slip her dropped glove over her fingers. Her nails,  green the last he’d seen her, were now a muted orange. Still chipped at the edges. Always chipped at the edges.

“We both know, had you really intended to come to Vienna, I would have had an Alya on my doorstep, not one texting me what ifs,” he started, slipping her fingers one by one into the glove even as she pouted. “Besides, I was already here when you texted. You were about to ruin the surprise.”

“Because I love surprises,” she grumbled, but he gave her a pointed look. “Okay, fine. I like you surprises.”

He smirked, finally having the the glove securely on her left hand, Alya still completely unsuspecting.

“How about one more Me surprise?” Nino asked, lowering to one knee before her and watching as Alya’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wha--Nino--”

“Alya Charlot Cesaire,” he began, trying not to laugh at the way her eyebrows shot up in surprise and eyes started to dart around the now-empty arrivals gate.

“Now?” She squeaked and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Now,” he confirmed. “I’ve spent too long waiting for the perfect moment, wanting to give you all the magic you deserve, but every moment with you is miraculous. Good, bad, near or far, you are the home I come back to time and time again. You make my life indescribably brighter, simply by existing. Would you do me the honor of calling me your husband?”

Alya’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she lifted a hand to cup his cheek.

“Dammit, Nino,” she whispered, a single tear tracking down her face as her lips tipped upwards. “I’m supposed to be the level-headed one in this relationship, and here you are turning me into a complete sap.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Of course, that’s a yes, you goof,” she rolled her eyes with a laugh, her hands grasping his collar and pulling him back up to standing. “Now are you going to kiss me, or--”

Nino wasted no time, cradling her head in his hands. His lips seeking hers through their pair of ridiculous smiles, and just barely managing some approximation of a kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he tried to grumble even as his shoulders shook with laughter. “Will you stop smiling? I’m trying to kiss my fiancé, here.”

“Oooo, fiancé?” Alya wiggled her eyebrows but held up her left hand. “Such a fancy title, and yet...I don’t see the hardware to back it up.”

Nino lifted an eyebrow, and, with a swift tug, deftly dislodged the very glove he’d put on her hand minutes before.

“Oh, no?”

Alya looked at her hand and gasped, her face dissolving into true shock now as she took in the diamond and topaz ring sitting in place of his old class ring. The same ring Alya had admired over a decade ago at the first family gathering he’d brought her to. The same ring his grandmother had given him when he turned eighteen...and reminded him to use yearly.

“You sneaky bastard,” she cursed, shaking her head with a smile. “You really did it.”

“Gave you a movie-magic proposal?”

“Made me fall even more in love with you,” she replied instead. “And people think I’m the overachiever.”

“I’m only an overachiever when it comes to you,” he grabbed her hand, still suspended in shock between them, and placed a kiss to her palm. “My fiancé is a hell of a woman. It takes a lot to keep her on her toes.”

“So what you’re saying is,”she walked her fingers up his chest as he stepped forward. “I now officially get an eternity of Nino surprises?”

“If you think you’d be okay with that,” he shot back.

“Okay with it?” Alya smirked, her hands having reached his chin to angle his face closer to hers. Her lips caught his in a searing kiss that shot through his body like molten lava, his knees slackening as her arms encircled his neck before she pulled away, breathless.

“I can’t wait.”

[sinegardians]

(high school) freshman advice from an incoming sophomore :)

these are all tips and things i wish someone had told me before i started my freshman year. some i had to learn by myself, others were just little things that got me through my first year. that being said, this is all a matter of opinion. whatever works for you, do it!

go to freshman orientation! it honestly helped me get used to the school and they showed us where our halls and classes are, and our principals and teachers. we also did a lot of fun mini games and icebreakers that introduced a lot of new people even before school started. (plus, depending on your school, there might even be a dance after, which is always fun;))

have your schedule and times of class periods as your phones screensaver for the first weeks of school, or at least til you memorize it. it’ll help you get to classes on time even if you take a potty break during passing periods.

don’t be one of those people who walk, single file with friends, down the hallways. or even worse, stop in the middle of the halls and talk to friends. it’s annoying, and quick way for someone to yell at you.

don’t be afraid to ask upperclassmen for help, whether it’s about a subject you’re having trouble with, or finding your classes. they’re not as scary as you think, and they’ll understand.

join clubs and extracurriculars! orchestra, band, theater, art, debate, yearbook club, photography etc. whatever interests you. it’s a great way to make new friends and interests. don’t be afraid to try out for clubs because you don’t think you’ll make it. if you make it? great! good job. if you don’t? great! there’s always next year and it’ll give you more time to learn and practice.

GO TO FOOTBALL GAMES!!!!! LEARN YOUR SCHOOL CHANTS AND SONGS !!!!! a lot of my best freshman memories took place in football games. even if you’re not necessarily interested in the sport, yelling and cheering along with your school and the band is a nice reliever. if you don’t know your school chants/fight songs, they’re usually posted in your schools website, or you can ask a teacher/upperclassmen where you can learn it. you don’t have to go to every game, buuuuuuttt... HOMECOMING AND RIVALRY GAMES ARE THE BEST GAMES TO GO TO!

i’ve had to learn this the hard way, but DO NOT slack off freshman year, especially if you want to go to an out-of-state college. trust me, i slacked off hard freshman year, and my gpa and class rank plummeted. it’ll only get harder to bring it up, so do yourself a favor and start high school off strong, junior year you will thank you for it.

most of the time, teachers will allow you extra time for assignments and projects if you ask them one-on-one. just be nice and remember your manners. “im sorry but i have a band trip and i won’t have time” or “theater rehearsals are this week and my schedule is gonna be packed from other classes.” works fine.

if you have a teacher that doesn’t teach very well (it’ll happen) or you just have trouble learning that way, find another way to learn. for me, i audio record classes i have trouble in so i can go back and listen. you can also learn from videos on youtube. (khan academy, crash course, the amoeba sisters)

go to dances and banquets! they’re a lot of fun and you don’t have to go with a date. go with friends! go with parents! (it’s still cool to go to dances with parents, a lot of people do it don’t worry), or go by yourself!

it’s okay if the friends you’ve always had, start drifting off. high school is big and it’s normal. you can always keep in touch through social media, but don’t be afraid to make new friendships.

^^^^^ make some friends with sophomores or upperclassmen. i had a lot of sophomore friends during my freshman year, and they made high school a lot more fun. in my school, everyone could eat lunch off campus except freshman. but i didn’t mind as much cause my upperclassmen friends bought me food ;)

on the topics of friends, be open minded when meeting new people, you never know who is gonna end up being the person getting you through high school, so be nice and don’t be afraid of making friends who are different than you other friends.

everyone else might be in a relationship, but it’s not that important. spend more time exploring and getting used to high school (you are spending four years here after all) than looking for a possible partner. in my experience, i don’t really think a lot of people are ready for long term relationships at 14/15, and it’d be better to train your focus at other things. save dating for later.

DON’T !!! FORGET !!! YOUR !!! CHARGERS !!! AND !!! EARBUDS !!!

don’t forget to eat breakfast. you’ll need it.

if you’re doing a project/essay, use scholar.google.com much more reliable and useful information.

if your school blocks social media apps on school wifi and you can’t use your data, download a vpn app. all you have to do is download, log on to your school wifi like usual, and then turn the vpn app on, and you can get on whatever apps, no payment required. don’t abuse it though, stay focused during class and avoid using your phone too much.

it’s okay to ask your friends for answers to homework every now and then, but don’t make a habit of it. it not only will start to annoy your friends, but you’ll get too used to it and start depending on them for work.

talk to your councilors when you need to. whether it’s about your mental health, or if your schedule is just too much for you, their job is to make their their students have the best opportunities and health. (if your school is big and the councilors don’t have time (it’s okay, it happens) talk to a trusted teacher).

bring a book always! even if you have your phone, it’s always comforting to have a book in you backpack at all times.

be confident. even when it’s hard and you don’t know anyone and you’re scared. you’ll learn how to smile without it feeling forced. it takes time.

above all, have fun. high school will either go by fast, or slow. make the most of it, okay? you’re spending four years in the same building with the same people. you’ll get used to them, they’ll get used to you. just remember that whatever goals you want to achieve, valedictorian, salutatorian, first chair, whatever. i believe in you :) and i hope you believe in yourself. stop fantasizing about your success and run to it! even if there’s no way, and there’s hundreds of thousands of obstacles, break them all down until you become the person freshman-you would look up to.

[cnc-hoebayb]

We could start off every day with sex n super smash bros

*Smut warning!!

Erick sinnn omg guys im so nervous

Also this isn’t gonna be superrrr explicit like my others just bc this is new territory and a lil different still...

But here it goes, lmk your feedback pls 🙃

.

“Ew don’t touch meee” Erick whines as you roll over, playfully nudging him with your toes. His eyes are scrunched shut tightly, trying desperately to ignore you. “Pero es la mañanaaaaa,” you fight with him as he pulls the sheets over him and drowns you out with a pillow over his ears.

You can’t seem to find a hole in his little barrier, so you give up with a huff, slumping back onto your pillow. It was your one day off. A day for you to sleep in and relax, but of course you would end up fully energized at 7 am. Erick was no help either, that kid would be asleep for another 3 hours max and there was no way to stop him.

The phone on your bedside table buzzed and maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to just browse social media for a couple hours. Or so you thought...

You click the little Instagram icon and it immediately shuts down. Click again, same thing. You go back and forth between apps, disappointed as each one loads with an error- no connection. “Dammit,” you whisper and notice the icon on the top left of your screen disappeared, WiFi shut down.

The laziness in you kicks up and overpowers the effort to fix it. You look over to Erick, still buried in blankets and sleeping soundly. So trying not to wake him, you remove yourself from the bed slowly, inching your way out as quietly as possible. Feet hit the cold tile beneath you and you bolt over to your closet. Moving a few old jackets and shoes, you find a big box and slide it out next to your tv.

You remove the contents quietly again, making sure to check on Erick every time a sudden noise was made. Tangled chords get plugged into multiple ports and outlets, your desperate attempt to find some entertainment for time being. Once it was all set up, you place the console on the tv stand excitedly, digging through the box one more time for exactly what you were looking for. You insert the game and hop back in bed carefully, controller in hand.

Once you got situated in a comfy spot on the bed, a good distance away from Erick to give him room, you clicked the switch for the tv. The room immediately filled with the blaring music from the theme opening. You scramble for the remote rapidly and smash the button until it was silent. It didn’t work, however, since Erick was already up and facing towards you.

His hair was messy, sleep still in his heavy eyes and with a little baby frown. “Que estas jugando??” He questioned and looked at the screen so obviously plastered with the logo. You shrivel up a little in place, trying to look unknowing but also cute enough to get away with it. “Super smash bros......”

You fail to hold back a playful smile and cover your face with the controller. “Without meee!?” He argues and pushes you away from him. You point at him with the controller in hand, “Erick- estabas durmiendo, déjame en paz im bored.” His pout becomes a little softer, but he sits still with his arms crossed.

Some time passes of him being silent, you watch and wonder what’s running through those sleepy thoughts of his. He lets out a defeated sigh, rubbing his eyes before holding his hand out to you. “A controller,” he starts and yawns in between, “dame.” You hand him the one you were holding and grab the other off the nightstand. He adjust his eyes to the screen and gives you a nod to start it. “Ready to lose?” He jokes, and you lean in.

“Can i have a good luck kiss at least...?” You rest your head on his shoulder and bat your lashes up at him. He perks up quickly, catching himself just as fast, trying to play it cool. “Yea ye, i guess i could share some of my super smash bros skills with you this way.” He turns his head to press a soft kiss on your lips. You take it in while it lasts and run your tongue across your lips right after. Erick goes on and turns his attention back to the tv, ready to play.

But you look up at him and that messy hair, that light cover of stubble layering his chin, his perfect pink lips- and maybe there’s another game you wanna play now.

“Erick,” you say and he responds with a quick “que”, choosing through a long list of characters and not looking back at you. You roll your eyes and say it again, but this time while tugging at his shirt “Eriiickk.” He sets the controller down and turns toward you “queeee??”

You hold him by his jaw and slam your mouth to his, his eyes going wide with surprise. He pulls back a little, not quite sure what to do. You take the controller from him and toss it off the bed, yours following shortly after. His confused look changes up as you assure him of what you want, locking your arms around his neck, laying back and pulling him down on top of you.

“Whoa whoa,” he lets out as he falls over you and begin kissing and nipping at his ear. The tv played on in the back, background game music that sounded ridiculous in this situation. You smile against his skin and he giggles. “Ahora que” he laughs, now starting to kiss all over your neck and face. “La música, it’s funny,” you reply and he stops to listen.

“Guess we just gotta drown it out,” he says and sucks a mark onto your collarbone. Now there’s the gross teenager in him. You fall into his embrace, letting him droop over you lazily as kisses become more sloppy. The heat in your body increases as he takes the initiative to grab your thigh and lift it for him to settle in between.

“Por que eres tan bella en la mañana?..” he mumbles against your ear and it makes your heart flutter a little. His lips slide against your skin in all the right places, knowing exactly where to hit you for these types of moments.

A good amount of time goes by before you’re both ready for the next level. With as great of a kisser he was, you could get caught up in those lips all day. There would be no problem with that on either side too, because Erick definetly felt the same way. But what was happening now was sudden and pure need- a desire that wanted to be addressed immediately. And honestly, mornings like this was one of the times where he was at his hottest to you. So this would be fun.

The now so obvious bulge in his sweatpants grinded between your legs, making you gasp with all the thoughts that started to build in your head. Knowing he never liked to initiate, you part from his lips and squeeze his biceps with intention. “Erick,” you stop mid sentence and he bites his swollen lips while looking right into your eyes. “Grab a condom, I’m ready.” And with the speed of light, he rolls off of you to dig through the bedside drawer, pouncing back over you as he shows off the tiny little package.

You giggle at the goofy excited face he makes and he tears the corner of the wrapping with his teeth. He leans down to kiss you deeply one more time, letting you help pull his remaining clothing off before doing the same with yourself.

His nose rests against yours, pretty little lips hanging open as he slides the condom on, your own hands making their way down to assist. He exhales sharply and interlocks his fingers in yours. “Lista, bebe?” Its quiet and intimate, opposing slightly his normal character. I mean, he was always sweet, but it surprised you to see another side to his sweetness, however many times you’ve seen it before.

“Lista,” your hands massage the back of his neck, right where his hairline starts to fade. He’s slow, gentle, almost to the point where it’s too hard to wait for more. But he was careful with you, and that was always the most important thing.

He bottoms out fast, collapsing over you with a deep breath. “Don’t start losing on me now,” you joke and it helps relieve the tension of the moment, his confidence boosting up again. You guide him with a pace, something you can both handle and work out together, rolling your hips up into his.

His soft groans were actually more like whimpers, never afraid to overcompensate and be too dramatically vocal, he was as natural and amateur as any other boy your guys’ age. You clench onto his arms, arching up at his constant thrusts. The veins in his neck flex slightly and he’s never looked so focused in his life.

Your loud whines match the volume of the still playing video game and the squeaks of the bed frame. Sheets bundled at your feet as he pushes your bodies higher up on the bed, getting that perfect leverage to finish you out. “WhoA-“ you accidentally mutter, the sensation simply emitting your first thought out suddenly, and in a totallyyy not sexy manner.

He smiles wide and it’s almost like he wasn’t literally inside of you right now, because before you know it you’re both giggling at your little slip. Your eyes start to water as you try to keep it together and not break out into a full on laughing fit- Erick above you doing the same. “I couldn’t stop, it just came out,” you justify and cover your face with your hands, all previous movement now at a hold.

“You’re a nerd,” he teases and starts to poke at your hands while pinching and tickling around your face, trying to get you to reveal yourself again. You squeal when he blows a raspberry on your neck, making you wiggle and finally push him away. The both of your laughter fills the air and the mood is so much lighter than before.

You push his hair back and snap back to what was happening before your guys’ fit of laughter. His cheeks are flushed with color and you bring him into a kiss. “I ruined the mood didn’t i?” You smile nervously and he continues to pepper your face with kisses. “No, you made it better” his tongue sweeps along the roof of your mouth with skill and you moan in response.

The rest is frantic- hands pushing and pulling at open skin, hips pounding against one another, muffled noises as teeth bite into soft flesh in pleasure. He mutters a string of broken English, bucking into you roughly. His body spasms and you chase your release shortly after, burying your face into his warm neck.

Your fingers clench into his skin as you come undone, feeling lost in his touch and body. You both start to slow down until he finally rolls from on top of you, plopping onto his pillow. He lays there and it looks like he’s trying to reload back into normal Erick mode.

“You’re weird,” you cuddle up to him to lay your head on his sweaty chest. And like all he needed was the sound of your voice, he turns his head to you and shows off those perfect teeth. “Youre weirder,” he wraps you in his arms and starts to play with your now very tangled hair, “siempre me quieres así en la mañana.”

“You’re not complaining” you snap back and he agrees silently with a single look, fingers still locked in your silky strands. You squeeze him tightly to remind yourself how amazing he is and how lucky you are to have him to yourself. He groans as you squeeze tighter, almost pushing you away. “Oowww,” he squeezes you back to play along.

You release him and kiss his cheek one more time. “Okay can we go back to playing the game now?” Youre already reaching for your controller on the floor, pressing buttons to get it started. “Desnuda???” He almost screams, already halfway through putting his own underwear back on.

“Yea, it’ll distract you more,” you wink at him and press play. “My chance of winning is waaayy better now,”

[jinmukangwrites]

Nightwing Bad Things Happen Bingo: Locked Up and Left Behind

X/Done Heart/Next WiFi/Requested

Ever since Jason was brought into the Wayne family, kidnappings came to be a rare occurrence. Dick’s theory was that most criminals realized how stupid it was to go after Bruce Wayne, especially now that he was more public with funding Batman and the Justice League. Dick had been kidnapped hundreds of times and not a single perp got a single coin out of it. Just a lot of bruises from Batman and a long sentence to prison.

Jason… when he was alive… got kidnapped once or twice, but he was usually rescued fairly quickly since the only people risking getting Batman and the League on their tail were idiots. As he grew up and Bruce hadn’t met a single demand of any kidnapper and still got Jason back safe and sound, and as time went by kidnappers just kind of… gave up.

And then Bruce adopted Tim, and no one remembered that kidnapping was a thing until Bruce got the phone call.

Dick happened to be there. He was over visiting the manor mostly because Alfred mentioned how lonely the manor had been and how Tim spent most of his days locked up in his room. Another reason for being there was that Bruce was still hurting and brooding over the grave, as if it was his fault Ra’s Al Ghul and Joker decided to be evil. Dick was still aching too, he would be lying if he said he didn’t hope to see a shit-eating grin on a familiar boy’s face when he walked in.

He was sitting in Bruce’s study, just lounging on one of the chairs set off to the side that were set there just in case Bruce actually wanted to talk to people in his office. Bruce usually didn’t, but that never stopped Dick from barging in, plopping himself down on a chair, and pulling out his phone to play whatever weird app he found a couple minutes before. This time it was a color by number game.

He was working on the number 25 when the phone on Bruce’s desk began to ring. Bruce looked up from whatever papers he had been going through and lifted an eyebrow at the phone. It was almost three in the afternoon and Bruce had no scheduled talks or meetings with anyone, so the caller could be just some random phone solicitor that got lucky enough to call Bruce Wayne. After a few more rings, Bruce sighed and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Bruce Wayne speaking,” he said in a perfect businessman tone.

Dick rolled his eyes and went back to his game, but his attention was quickly back on Bruce when he heard a sharp growl. “What it the meaning of this?!”

A deep pit suddenly formed in Dick’s stomach as his mind went through all the scenarios that could get this reaction out of Bruce.

“Don’t touch a hair on his head,” Bruce practically yelled into the phone and Dick felt like he needed to puke. Bruce looked genuinely worried. “You hear me?!”

It hit him like a truck when Dick realized school ended more than a hour ago.

Tim should have been home.

“I want to talk to him.”

Dick remembered all the times Bruce said that, but it was Dick he wanted to talk to. There were a number of different ways the criminals would react to that. Some would hand Dick the phone, some would shove the phone against his ear, some would refuse, and there were a rare, heartless few that-

The sound of a agonized filled scream sounded over the phones speakers, reaching Dick’s ears. He stood up from the couch and stood there helplessly as Bruce yelled into the phone.

A rare, heartless few that proved life by making it known they have no problem taking it.

Dick could hear sobbing over the low, incoherent voice of the kidnapper from the phone. It made Dick want to join in on crying.

Suddenly, all noise cut off with a beep and Bruce was left yelling at a ended call to not hang up!

“Bruce?” Dick asked. Dick never had that much experience with being on this end of kidnappings. Sure, it had happened a couple times with Jason but Dick never got used to it.

If the way Bruce was getting up from his desk and slamming the phone down on sharp and jerky movements was anything to go by, Bruce had never gotten used to it too.

“Go to the school. Trace his steps,” Bruce ordered.

“What about you?” Dick asked, already backing up towards the study door.

“I’m calling Commissioner Gordon, then Batman will join you.”

-o-o-o-o-

Batman never joined. The reason being so was that Bruce Wayne got another call from the kidnappers to negotiate the life of a 14 year old boy while with Gordon. He was practically being forced to stay at home with a couple cops to watch over him. Thankfully, Gordon didn’t exactly know Dick was back in town.

So he was forced to find out out on his own what happened. He first went to the school and checked the cameras. Tim made it out in one piece, he was busy talking to some friends and their conversation lasted until he got to the front gates of the school. There were no more cameras from there, so he checked the traffic cameras. There weren’t many, just mostly at the intersections to check for people running red lights, but was able to follow Tim a couple blocks. He was probably going to the public bus stop since Alfred was out of town—he insisted on just taking the bus and Bruce and Dick didn’t fight him on it.

Dick checked the cameras at the bus stop and waited… Tim never showed up.

So, in-between the last traffic intersection and the bus stop, Tim was taken. That’s a whole block of street.

As Dick Grayson, dressed in inconspicuous attire, he walked up and down the street with a picture of Tim. He couldn’t find any cameras so he had to resort to asking side street shops, homeless people, and street performers if they’ve seen “my little brother”.

Hmm, he looks familiar… oh yeah, he was that kid who waved at me earlier. I think he was just walking down the street.

He gave me a twenty after my song. Nice kid. But he looked a little nervous. He turned the way he came from and walked quickly away. I hope he’s okay.

Yeah the brat ran into me like a bat out of hell. Knocked my groceries everywhere.

Ah, he ran into the alley. Was there anyone following him? Ah… I think a car turned into the alley a bit after him. Make and model? What are you a cop?

Spare some change? Oh. That boy… Yeah… I saw him… look, I can’t just give information for free… oh thank you kind sir. Right, so he ran in here looking all crazy. I hid behind the dumpster because… crazy people are bad news for people like me. It’s a good thing I did because this black van pulled into the alley and drove up next to him. Some guys came out and grabbed him, I think they drugged him I don’t know, and drove off. Yeah, I did nothing! Its none of my business.

The homeless person shuffled away to heaven knew where and Dick was left standing in the middle of stinking alleyway, limply holding a picture of Tim. Black van. Classic but effective. It’s also easy to find on a traffic cam.

-o-o-o-o-

Dick checked every camera he could and after a few agonizing hours, he finally found the van just barely skimming the corner of the feed of a camera on the inside of a gas station. The van purposely avoided every camera that watched the streets, but Dick thankfully lucked out. The van was black and there was a blurry image of a man at the steering wheel. The more he looked, he noticed the black of the van was actually a sloppy paint work. Probably spray paint. He zoomed in and used every program he had access to to clear up the image. Under the black paint was a logo… if he could just get it clear enough to read…

Finally, the logo became clear enough for him to read. Without wasting a second, Dick slipped into his suit and swung out into the now darkening city.

-o-o-o-o-

It was the logo of an old grocery shop down in the slums. It remained open mostly because it was the only cheap place to get okay food for the people that lived in the area. The grocery shop used to do house orders, which is the reason they would have cars with logos on them.

It only took Nightwing thirty minutes to arrive at the store. It was closed and the lights on the inside were off. Didn’t matter, Nightwing just went there really to see if he could find a list of the employees, but when he looked to the side of the building he saw a familiar van.

All of a sudden, things were so much more urgent because Tim was in there.

He snuck over to the windows and looked inside. The aisles were short and close together, most were pretty bare, waiting for someone to restock. Other than that, the building was eerily empty.

He silently picked the lock on the doors and went inside like a shadow. It was silent, not even a humming of the AC could be heard. He swallowed and continued deeper into the building. He turned into a door that said “employees only” and slipped in.

The other side of the door was split into three areas. One lined the back of the fridges where chilled items like milk and eggs could be stocked easily. There were boxes stacked on top of boxes in that section, it was also about the temperature of a fridge, but other than that, it was empty. The second section was filled with large metal structures for normal storage. Glass jars and chip bags stuffed into boxes sat on the shelves. Nightwing took his time looking around each corner of the section, there were too many places for someone to hide it seemed, but after extensive search, Nightwing’s search came out to be fruitless.

The last section was behind a large metal door with big red letters that said “KEEP CLOSED”. Nightwing had to put his whole body weight into sliding the door open, and when he did he was met with below zero temperatures.

The freezer.

He stopped at the entrance and looked into the darkness of the freezer with nothing but his night vision. There were metal shelves and pallets littering the floor. Too many places to hide, but not a very comfortable one. He could see his breath puff up in front of his face and the cold was already biting through his suit. At first glance, the freezer looked empty. He sighed, watching his breath rise, already considering leaving and looking for other places the kidnappers could have hid.

However, for the first time since he got to the grocery shop, he heard something.

It was muffled and scared sounding. Whimpers and sniffles.

Tim.

Nightwing went deeper into the freezer, ignoring how he could already feel goosebumps forming on his arms. He turned around a shelf and came to a stop when he saw Tim.

Or at least, Tim was the first thing he saw. He was tied to a metal chair with his hands probably duct taped behind him. His ankles were restrained in a similar way to the legs of the chair. He had a length of tape stuck over his mouth and even more wrapped around his head to blindfold him. A dark stain covered his shirt near to his shoulder, probably blood from whatever they’ve done to him when Bruce asked to talk to Tim. He was shivering, stripped down to just his undershirt and boxers. Snot ran out of his nostrils and trailed over the tape gagging him.

Unfortunately though, Tim wasn’t alone.

There was a man standing casually behind Tim, one arm wrapped around Tim’s shoulders and a hand pressed a gun to Tim’s temple like it was the easiest thing in the world. He had a ski mask on.

“Well,” the man said and pressed the gun harder into Tim’s temple, making a horrid mark, “I was expecting Batman.”

Expecting?

Stars exploded at the back of his head.

Nightwing felt the world tilt and his body go down with it. He stumbled and landed on the ground, just barely able to catch himself on his hands and knees. He immediately pushed himself to his feet to face whoever had snuck up on him while he was busy being terrified of how terrible people could be, but the world exploded into blinding light.

Or someone just turned on the lights and his night vision freaked out.

Nightwing called out and squeezed his eyes shut. His skull ached from whatever he had been hit with and the cold was numbing his hands. He could only imagine how cold Tim was.

He heard something swing, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge some kind of bar as it swung at his head. It cut the skin above his eyebrow and knocked him off his feet. He landed roughly on the ground and groaned when hands latched onto him and began to take his escrima sticks.

He forced his stinging eyes open, thankful that his mask had automatically turned off the night vision, but the sight that he saw was the man grinning from his eyes and holding the gun store an uncomfortable angle under Tim’s jaw.

“Stand down or I blow the kids brains out.”

Tim tried to shove the man off to the best of his abilities, but the man held him too tight. Dick had no doubt the man would shoot Tim. By the looks of it, he already stabbed him. Nightwing forced him to relax into the ground. He forced himself to allow gloved hands to lift him up and shove him against one of the shelves of the freezer.

Forced himself to remain still as his suit was put in the process of being stripped from his body.

“Where’s Batman?” The man asked. Nightwing glared and ignored how his shoulders were shaking. He clenched his jaw to stop the chittering before it started. The man sighed at Nightwing’s silence and pressed the gun harder into Tim’s jaw. Tim made a strangled whimpering sound at the back of his throat. “Where’s the Bat, Nightwing?”

Nightwing loosened his jaw and shot a quick glare at the men, there were multiple, who had finally stripped home down to his underwear. All he had was his mask which he hoped beyond hope they would leave alone. Before he knew it, his hands were zip tied in front of him with multiple and heavy duty ties. “Not coming,” Nighting growled out, “he couldn’t make it. Sent me.”

The ties dug into his skin as the men shoved him forward and forced his arms upward, where chains were hanging. His arms were wrapped up in the chains and a lock and key held them tight against his bare arms. The metal felt colder than ice and the air on his bare skin felt like torture. His jaw was shaking even as he tried to keep it still.

The men backed off and the man who held the gun against Tim finally lowered it. Nightwing couldn’t help the shuddering breath of relief that came out of him. The man cut the tape holding Tim’s ankles to the chair and hefted Tim up by the back of his shirt. Tim shook his shoulders but he didn’t look strong enough to shake off a fly, let alone the grasp of a psycho.

“I suppose we’ll have have to hope you’re telling the truth, or else the kid gets it.”

“D- don’t do this,” Nighting tried, as last resort, “there’s oth-other w-w-ays-”

His whole body was shaking and his fingers were already numb. The man laughed and began to drag Tim out of the freezer. No one said anything more as one of the other men slapped a piece of tape over Nightwing’s mouth and followed the leader out. The lights were shut off and the door of the freezer was rolled shut. There was the sound of chains on the other side of the door and Nightwing realized that they were locking the door shut. Even if he got out of his restraints, he would still be stuck.

He shivered in the dark, desperately looking for ways to escape and save Tim, but as his nose began to run, he already knew there were no options other to wait. He couldn’t move from his spot and his limbs were too numb to try and escape the locked chains. All he could do was wait and try to keep his body temperature up for as long as he could.

He lasted an hour and a half. He stopped shivering and blood trailed down his arms from the ties. His legs were so week he could hardly stand up any longer, leaving him to dangle from the chains, which would have hurt if his whole body wasn’t so numb.

His eyes were too heavy to keep open, and he realized that with Bruce being public about his funding both forced the idiots to stop trying, and the smart ones to get smarter.

-o-o-o-o-

Just, honestly, from now on, expect these to end early. Find the rest on AO3!

[hmhteen]

Cover (Re)reveal + HMH Teen Teaser: YOU OWE ME A MURDER by Eileen Cook!

Thrillers are the best at providing twisty endings you never saw coming...so it makes sense that YOU OWE ME A MURDER would start thrilling readers with a cover switcheroo! That’s right, this YA perfect for fans of GENUINE FRAUD and ONE OF US IS LYING has a new cover. 

And here’s a plot twist: in addition to sharing the cover below, we’re sharing an excerpt, too. 

***

ONE

AUGUST  15

16 DAYS REMAINING

I plotted murder in the Vancouver airport while waiting at gate D78 for my flight to London.

Based on the expressions of the people around me, I wasn’t the only one thinking of how to do someone in. Our flight was delayed and everyone was irritated and restless. The couple at the end of the row were fighting about which one of them had forgotten to lock the bedroom window before they left. Then there were at least a half-dozen people wanting to take out the toddler wearing the SpongeBob T-shirt, who vacillated between shrieking at a decibel normally used to torture dogs and running around slamming into everyone with his grimy hands.

The old guy across from me snarled, baring his yellowed teeth, every time the kid whirled in his direction. You’d think that would freak the toddler out, but it didn’t seem to make any impact. Maybe the little boy got his ability to ignore unpleasant things from his mom. She stared down at an issue of People magazine, her lips moving as she read, completely ignoring the fact that people in the gate area wanted to club her kid with their roller bags. The only way you knew it was her child was that when he would slam into her, she’d hold out a limp plastic baggie filled with rainbow-colored gummy worms and then drop one into his clutching hand. She was like an apathetic mama bird.

I tilted my head to the side to crack the tension in my neck. I wished I could block things out that well. Instead I found myself continually looking over at Connor. My back teeth clenched, tight enough to crack. Miriam was perched on his lap. I told myself to stop staring, but my attention kept being pulled back. He slid his hand under her shirt and rubbed her back in tight circles. I knew that move. He’d done that to me.

Before he’d dumped me.

Miriam ruffled his hair. He couldn’t stand it when I’d done that. He’d push my hand away or duck out of my reach. Connor had gone deaf after a bout of chicken pox as a kid and had cochlear implants so he could hear. He wore his hair a bit shaggy because he didn’t like to draw attention to the proces- sor behind his ears. I’d found it fascinating. Not just because it’s a pretty cool piece of tech, but also because I wanted to know how he felt going from a silent world to being able to hear. But he didn’t like to talk about it, or for me to touch his hair. 

Apparently, he didn’t have the same hang-up with Miriam. I reminded myself that I didn’t care. Connor meant nothing to me now. I swallowed hard.

Toddler SpongeBob slammed into me. His sticky fingers, streaked red and blue from the candy, clutched my jeans. He stared up at me with his watery eyes and then, without look- ing away, slowly lowered his drooling, slobbery mouth to my knee and bit me.

“Hey!” I shoved him hard without thinking. He teetered for a moment and then fell onto his giant padded diaper butt, letting out a cry. I glanced around guiltily, shame landing on my chest with a thud. His mother didn’t even look over. The old man gave me a thumbs-up gesture. Great — that’s me, Kim, the kind of person who beats up preschoolers when she’s not stalking her ex-boyfriend. I crouched down to help the kid up, but he pushed me away and returned to running wildly up and down the aisle.

I peered down at my phone, wishing I could call my best friend, Emily. She always knew how to cheer me up. She was spending the entire summer working at a camp on the far side of Vancouver Island. She didn’t have any cell service or WiFi, so there was going to be no quick “everything will be fine” text or call. Granted, if I’d been able to reach her earlier in the sum- mer, I might not even have been in this situation at all. Com- municating old school — by letters — might be vintage and nostalgic, but it does you no good when you have an emotional disaster that needs immediate BFF interaction.

We’d been friends since elementary school and this was the longest I’d ever gone without talking to her. So far, my summer was proof positive that I shouldn’t be allowed to handle things on my own. I fished the last card she’d sent me out of my bag. Inside she’d scribbled, “I know you can do this! Your trip’s going to be amazing!!” Emily never met an exclamation point that she didn’t like. Despite the positive punctuation, I was pretty sure she was wrong on both counts. I felt far from capable, and although the flight hadn’t even left, I already hated everything about this trip.

I took a deep breath, counting in for three and then letting it whoosh out. I can do this. I wasn’t going to let Emily and my parents down.

A few rows over, Miriam laughed, tossing her head back as if Connor had just told the best joke of all time. She playfully punched him in the chest with her tiny little hand. Everything about her was miniaturized. She told everyone she was five feet tall, but she was four eleven at best. She looked ridiculous when she stood next to Connor. He could have put her into his backpack and carried her around like a Chihuahua.

I had to admit Miriam was pretty, other than being freakishly petite. She had long dark hair that could have starred in a shampoo commercial. Her only flaw was that she wore too much eyeliner. She was addicted to the cat’s-eye look, accentuating the slant of her eyes. She had a flair for drama; she always made huge gestures, sweeping her arms around, flicking her hair over a shoulder, or talking loudly as if she was constantly trying to make sure everyone could hear her. She was in the theater crowd, so maybe she couldn’t help herself.

I never would have guessed Connor would date someone like her: showy. I thought he’d enjoyed that we didn’t always have to be talking, but if we did, it was about important stuff: Philosophy. Science. Politics. We met once at the coffee shop in the morning before work and split up the Globe and Mail, silently passing the newspaper sections back and forth. He was the only other person I knew besides me who liked to read an actual paper. I’d caught our reflection in the window and thought we looked like adults. Like people who lived in New York or Toronto, with important jobs, a fancy high-rise apart- ment with lots of glass and chrome, and a membership to the local art museum.

Miriam had no volume control, but she wasn’t stupid. I didn’t know her well — she hung with the drama crowd — but I wouldn’t have thought Connor was her type. I would have seen her liking a guy with an earring and some kind of social justice agenda. She wasn’t in the hard sciences but still took a bunch of AP courses. She’d written some paper on Shakespeare that won a national award for English geeks. No wonder I wanted to kill her.

I sighed. I didn’t want to kill her, I wanted to be her. Miriam hadn’t stolen Connor. Someone can’t steal what you don’t have. He didn’t dump me because he’d fallen for her. What had happened between us was complicated. More complicated than I even wanted to admit. He had his own reasons for stomping on my heart. If I was going to take anyone out, it should be him. But no matter whom I blamed, it didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few weeks watching the two of them make out in front of me. I shook my head to clear it. As everyone kept reminding me, it would be for only sixteen days.

I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see them, but I could still hear Miriam. Her drama teacher should be proud of how well Miriam’s voice carried. She was four feet eleven of all lungs. Her voice filled the entire gate area and spread down the hall like toxic lava. I could tell already that the sound would be like fingernails on a chalkboard by the end of the trip.

The worst part was that I’d pleaded to go. I told my parents if they let me attend, they’d never have to get me another gift. Once Connor had announced he was going — before we’d broken up — I’d been instantly consumed with images of the two of us walking hand in hand through narrow cobblestone streets. The program was advertised as if it were a great edu- cational opportunity, but the truth was, there weren’t any real demands. We’d be “exposed” to culture, as though it were a cold we could catch. I didn’t really care about the chance to travel, or what I might learn from the sights of London; what mattered was going with him. I didn’t want him to be away for almost three weeks, doing all these things without me. I loved the idea of starting school in September with the two of us chatting constantly about “remember the time we were in London?” until everyone around us was annoyed.

In retrospect, I know he wanted to come because he didn’t think I was going. He signed up without talking it over, telling me only after it was a done deal. I pleaded with my parents for days, never admitting that I wanted to go because of Connor and instead laying it on thick how it was a great way to expand my horizons, how amazing it would look on my university apps, and how I’d suddenly developed a fascination with British history, until they gave in.

Then, after things with Connor blew up in my face, I’d begged my parents to let me bail, but they wouldn’t budge. They insisted it wasn’t the deposit, it was the point. My dad called it a chance for me to “build character.” As far as he was concerned, Connor had never been worth my time. He made a snide comment about Connor’s overbite, which, coming from a dentist, was some serious trash talk.

My mom had made a dismissive sniff and told me “he’s not worth bothering over.” She acted as though she didn’t like him, but when I’d first told her about Connor, she’d been as excited as me. He was exactly the kind of boy she would have liked at my age, and the exact kind of boy she assumed would never know her awkward daughter even existed. She looked at me differently, as if her ugly duckling had finally hit possible swan status. We went shopping together and got matching hot pink mani-pedis. We’d never gotten along as well as we had for those few weeks.

Then when things went bad with him, my mom acted as if she were the one who’d been humiliated. She might have said she wanted me to go on the trip because it was a chance to travel, but she also wanted me to be the kind of person who held her head high to handle the situation the way she would have done. And I wanted to be that person too — the kind who would have a fantastic time regardless of a breakup and, by the end of the trip, see Connor desperately sorry he’d broken up with me. All while making a pack of new friends.

However, if I was going to go full fantasy, I might as well add in that the queen would invite me to the palace, and Will and Kate would ask me to baby-sit, and Harry and Meghan would offer to hook me up with some minor count or a duke. The truth was, the next few weeks were going to suck.

And I was going to be stuck strapped in directly behind the lovebirds for the entire flight, watching them crawl all over each other in the tiny coach seats. I squeezed my eyes shut as if I could block out the mental image playing on the big screen of my mind. I’d told myself a thousand times since we’d all checked in and I’d heard our seating assignments that I could handle this, but with every second that went by, it was becoming increasingly clear to me that I wouldn’t make it. I’d snap somewhere thirty-three thousand feet up and beat the two of them over the head with the in-flight magazine.

Or start crying again. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. You would think there was only so much crying a person could do before she got completely dehydrated. I’d told myself I couldn’t stand him anymore, so why did my heart still seize and my throat grow tight every time he was around?

I stood up so suddenly that my bag fell to the floor. I snatched it up and strode over to the airline counter. The gate agent didn’t look up. She was too preoccupied typing into her computer. Her fingernails, which had a thick layer of bright red gel polish, made a strange clacking sound on the keys. I cleared my throat, but she still didn’t stop.

“Excuse me,” I managed to get out before she held up a fin- ger to silence me.

She finally finished whatever she was doing and glanced up. “If you’re asking about the delay, I don’t have any more information. As soon as we get clearance, we’ll start boarding.” There was makeup creased on her forehead and I suspected she was on her last nerve. She was a walking reminder to never go into a customer service occupation.

I leaned forward even though logically I knew Connor couldn’t hear me from where he was sitting. “I wondered if I could change my seat?”

 She scrunched up her face. “I don’t think —”

“See the guy back there?” I yanked my head in Connor’s direction. “That’s my ex-boyfriend. We’re going to England on a travel program. I’m supposed to sit right behind him.” I paused. “For nine hours.”

Her perfectly arched eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she looked over my shoulder.

I sensed I was getting somewhere. “He was my first boyfriend.” My voice cracked and I had to swallow over and over to keep control. “He dumped me just a couple weeks ago.”

Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but

I can’t —”

“That’s his new girlfriend. She used to be my best friend.” The gate agent sucked in a breath and looked over at Connor as though he were something she’d scraped off her shoe.

I felt bad as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Mir- iam and I had never even hung out before this trip, let alone been friends, but I needed the agent to help me. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

I don’t lie to hurt people, or to pull something over on them, but I guess sometimes I . . . make up stories to make myself more interesting. As long as I can remember, I’ve done it. On the playground in elementary school, I told the other kids that fairies lived in my backyard. In junior high I let everyone think I’d been adopted. I didn’t want to lie. I wanted to be normal and interesting, but I wasn’t.

I hadn’t lied with Connor. With him I’d been one hun- dred percent honest about my feelings, and look how that had turned out.

The agent clacked away on the computer. “Your name?” 

“Kim, Kim Maher.” I spelled my last name.

“I need your old boarding pass.” I slid the limp piece of paper across the counter. She tore it in half as the machine spat out a new one. She passed it over to me with a wink. “He doesn’t deserve you. Have a good trip.”

The tight band around my chest loosened. “Thanks.”

I wove through the crowd clustered around the gate and plopped back down in my seat. I pushed the New York Times I’d already read out of the way and pulled out the magazine I’d brought. I hid between the pages, blinking back tears. The gate agent was right. Connor didn’t deserve me. It was the same thing Emily told me. But even if I knew it was true, it didn’t hurt any less. All I had to do was figure out how to get my heart to catch up to the fact that my head didn’t like him anymore.

A girl slid a few seats over to be next to me. “Did she say anything about the delay?” Her English accent made me feel as if I’d dropped onto the set of a BBC historical drama.

I shook my head and quickly wiped my eyes so she wouldn’t notice the tears. “No news.”

The girl sighed. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She tugged the thin cream cashmere sweater sleeves over her hands. She glanced down at the stack of paper on the chair next to me. “Your Times?”

I nodded.

“Did you read the article about the changes to the space program? I saw it earlier this morning.”

I jumped slightly in surprise. She seemed like someone who would spot a copy of InStyle at a hundred meters but wouldn’t know a shuttle from a rocket if she were whacked across the face with one of them. “Uh-huh.” I picked up the paper, look- ing for the Science section.

“I think that’s what I like about a real paper,” she said. “It’s like a knowledge Easter egg hunt. You never know what you’re going to find.”

I nodded like a bobble-head doll. That was exactly why I

loved reading a paper too. “Yeah. Are you into space stuff?” She shrugged. “Just find it interesting.”

I held out my hand. “I’m Kim.”

“Nicki.” She smiled as we shook. “How come you aren’t hanging with the rest of your group?” She motioned to a cou- ple rows over. There were eight of us on the trip and we were all on this flight. A few had busted out cards to play a game on the blue carpeted floor, and the others were clustered around Jamal’s laptop checking out his music.

“How did you know —” I got out before she flicked the blue

and white student scholars for change tag attached to carryon. I’d forgotten I was branded. “Ah. I’m not really friends with any of them. There are just three of us from my high school. It’s complicated,” I said.

Nicki nodded. “Story of my life. I was here visiting my dad, and the reason he lives here, instead of in London with me and my mum, is all sorts of complicated too.”

Nicki tucked her hair behind her ears. Her bob wasn’t quite long enough, so as soon as she did, the hair fell free and swung forward again. “Sorry, that came out a bit pissy. I just find other people . . . ugh. I don’t know. Disappointing.” She shoved her hair back again.

“Story of my life,” I said, echoing her words. She laughed and it reminded me of scales on a piano.

Nicki tapped the robotics magazine on my lap. “You plan on going into robotics at uni?”

I shook my head. “Not sure. I’m leaning toward engineer- ing, maybe computers.”

She waited until an announcement about a flight to Phoe- nix stopped blaring on the PA. “I’m thinking psychology. I’m interested in research. This is my gap year.” She watched the unsupervised toddler fish a booger out of his nose and rub it into his hair.

“What kind of research?”

“Human behavior. I don’t have any interest in being a coun- selor. People blathering about their problems all day would drive me barmy. But I’m intrigued with why people do what they do, why they don’t do some things, what they could accomplish, that kind of thing.”

I traced the pattern in the carpet with my shoe. Under- standing other people was one of the great mysteries in my life. “If you ever figure people out, you’ll have to let me know what you discover. Math I can make sense of, but people are more confusing than quantum physics. Give me a robot any day.”

She laughed. “Don’t give up on humanity just yet. Maybe

you haven’t met anyone worth figuring out.”

The overhead speaker chirped to life. “Attention: Passen- gers on Air Canada flight 854 to London. Due to aircraft main- tenance issues, this flight will be further delayed. We apologize for the inconvenience.” The crowd groaned. The screen over our gate flickered and a new departure time, three hours from now, blinked on.

Connor stood and stretched. “Who wants to find a place to

watch the Whitecaps game?”

Our group began to gather up their stuff. He was like the pied piper of nerdy people. Everyone was willing to follow him. Miriam walked over toward me.

“Do you want to come?” she offered. Her legs were so small that her size extra small leggings were baggy around her thighs. She must buy her clothing in a kids’ department.

“No thanks,” I managed to say, willing her to walk away. Or

she could disappear completely — I was open to that, too.

“You can’t want to just hang around here for the next three hours.” Miriam nudged my tote with her foot. “C’mon, we’ll all get some fries or something. It’ll be fun.”

Fun wasn’t even in the top ten words that I would think of to describe the situation. “I’m fine,” I insisted. It was bad enough that Connor wanted nothing to do with me. It was worse that he started dating someone else right away. It was a nightmare that I was stuck on this trip with them. But her being nice to me was a layer of shit icing on this crap cupcake. I didn’t even know how much Connor had told her about what had happened between the two of us. I wasn’t sure what I preferred: that she knew and felt pity for me, or that he hadn’t told her anything because he didn’t think I was worth mentioning. I slouched lower in the seat.

“Leave it — she doesn’t want to come. Trust me, no one will miss her with that attitude.” Connor strode over and took Mir- iam’s hand without even glancing at me.

I flushed. He was right. I was a walking black cloud of doom. I hadn’t bothered to get to know anyone else coming on the trip and now I was going to be miserable and alone.

“Gawd, he’s a tosser,” Nicki said, loud enough to carry.

I wasn’t entirely certain what it meant, but it sounded both hysterical and insulting. I burst out laughing.

Connor and Miriam walked off down the hall, the rest of the group following behind them. He glanced over his shoulder at us, and when he saw we were still staring, he whirled back around.

My chest filled with air. I felt like one of those large balloons at a parade — ready to float away. “I don’t know what you said, but you’re my new favorite person on this planet,” I said. I meant it, too. My BFF couldn’t be reached except by letter. Emily might as well have been in space for all the help she could give me.

“That guy is a loser.” Nicki pulled me from my seat. “I can tell, because as we’ve already established, I study people. You can pay me back for correctly identifying him as a wanker by keeping me entertained for the next few hours.”

“How would you like me to do that?”

Nicki’s smile spread across her face. “We’re smart women, we’ll think of something.”

 TWO

AUGUST  15

Nicki stopped short outside the duty-free store, causing me to nearly slam into her back. She seemed entranced by the bright lights bouncing off a display of jewel-colored perfume bottles.

“Let’s go in here,” she said.

“They won’t have gum,” I noted. “There’s another store down just a bit further.” I pointed, but she’d already started to weave her way through the aisles. She randomly picked up items: a stuffed bear holding a satin heart, a giant Toblerone bar, and a box of washed-out pastel-colored saltwater taffy. She inspected each one as if she worked for quality control and then put each back down. I trailed after her.

My mouth still burned from the jalapeños I’d had at lunch. Nicki claimed the best thing to eat before a big flight was huevos rancheros. She insisted the combination of protein from the eggs and cheese, along with the spice from the salsa, would ensure a good sleep on the plane. When I pointed out the entrée wasn’t on the menu, she’d raised one perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “Ordering off the menu is for the common person,” she’d declared. When the waiter came over, she turned on the charm, and before I’d known what was happening, he dropped off two custom plates just for us. And she was right — the huge meal made me want a nap.

Nicki grabbed a stuffed zebra and gave it a squeeze. “Things like this make me wish I had a kid brother or sister. Let me guess, you’re an only child too.”

My mouth fell open. “How did you —”

“Only children are different. They have to amuse them- selves growing up. They’re independent, better problem solvers. There’s tons of research on it. I could tell by the way you’ve been talking. You’re just like me.”

Technically, I wasn’t just like her. I never knew what to say when people asked if I had any siblings. “About a half-dozen fully frozen” seemed too flip and required an explanation. Saying I was an only child felt like lying about the existence of my parents’ cryogenically suspended embryos. They were my brothers and sisters, just in cold storage in a medical lab.

My parents hadn’t had an easy time getting pregnant. Thanks to the fact that my mom was an early blogger, the whole world knew about their struggles. Then after three rounds of IVF, I took. My mom called me MBK on her blog — Miracle Baby Kim. She said she used the initials to protect my privacy, but how private could my life be when she plastered every one of my development milestones in cyberspace for the whole world to see?

Somewhere on the Internet there’s a picture of me as a three-year-old, wearing a tiara and giant pink fuzzy slippers, sitting on the toilet with the caption “MBK Finally Masters Potty Training!” The “finally” is a nice touch; nothing I like bet- ter than people thinking I was delayed in the hygiene depart- ment. My mom’s name was all over her blog; it didn’t exactly take a Mensa-level IQ to figure out that I was MBK. The truth was, she didn’t care how I felt about the blog. What she cared about were all the people who read it and gave her nonstop “you’re the best mom ever” feedback.

The year I turned ten, my mom wrote a long blog post where she announced to her legions of fans that she and my dad were officially giving up their efforts to have more children. They couldn’t keep up the nonstop cycles of IVF. It seemed Mother Nature didn’t have it in the plans for my mom to be the mother she wanted to be, with a minivan and the ability to construct something out of Legos while simultaneously preparing an organic dinner for her large happy family. And while she wanted to focus on her blessing (Beautiful MBK!), she could still grieve for what could have been and she would always see those frozen embryos as her babies. The Huffington Post picked up that blog post and ran it on their site. It’s one of their most downloaded pieces. They rerun it on Mother’s Day most years.

It was around that time that I started to become aware that I was a disappointment to my mom. When she’d imag- ined having children, none of them were like me. She wanted a daughter who liked to play with dolls and whom she’d punish with a wag of her finger, all while smiling at how adorable it was that I stole her makeup. My desire for tangle-free short hair and passion for books and blanket forts befuddled her. Why didn’t I want to skip rope outside with the other girls? Why didn’t I let her braid my hair into complicated patterns befitting a Disney princess? Why wasn’t I similar to her at all? How could she be a mothering expert when her own kid was so . . . awkward?

My mom was one of the first mommy bloggers. Thousands of people still read her site daily. They comment on her reci- pes (Super YUM Crock-Pot Meals!) and reviews of baby items (Bugaboo Strollers Worth Every Penny!). She’s blogged about how motherhood is hard and disappointing, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. I can’t be the only one who realizes that she’s trying to talk herself into that fact. I believe that my mom loves me, I just don’t think she likes me. If she’d had more kids, maybe it would have made a difference. I guess neither of us will ever know.

Nicki sniffed a bottle of Burberry Brit perfume and then spritzed a tiny bit on her wrist. She held out her arm for me and I leaned in.

“Nice,” I said, but she’d already moved on to the next display.

 She stared up at the tower of Grey Goose vodka. “Want some for the flight?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t think even you can talk this place into selling us booze.”

Nicki winked and I noticed she was wearing a hint of a shimmery eye shadow. “Who says they’re going to sell it?”

My heart picked up speed. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure we were alone. “You’re going to steal it?” I asked, lowering my voice. My heart rabbited into overdrive.

“No, we’re going to steal it,” she said, her light brown eyes sparkling. “No one ever suspects the nicely dressed girl with a British accent. They think I’m too posh to sink to thievery.”

A swarm of spastic butterflies tried to take flight inside my lungs. I was pretty sure I didn’t look too posh to be arrested. “I don’t know . . .”

“Up to you.”

The chatter from the two clerks at the front of the store as they debated the merits of Ryan Reynolds seemed unnaturally loud to my ears. I bit the inside of my cheek. “What happens if we get caught?”

Nicki’s lips curled up, Grinch-like. “Bad things. That’s why we’ll do it so we don’t get caught.” Her head tilted slightly toward the bottles of booze. “They haven’t put on the plastic antitheft devices yet, and I don’t see any cameras.”

She was right. Every other bottle in the store had a black plastic disk attached around the neck, but the display of Grey Goose was naked. I could almost hear the angel and devil perched on my shoulders. One advising me to do the right thing and go on to the next store and buy a pack of Trident like a good girl, and the other telling me that it wouldn’t kill me to take a risk now and then. Where had playing it safe gotten me? I wanted to be someone else, anyone else. Maybe if I wanted to change the course of my life I needed to change the things I did. Be someone who did daring things, like Nicki.

“What do we do?” I whispered.

Nicki poked my leather tote bag. “When it’s time, grab the closest bottle and drop it in.”

“How will I know it’s time?”

She tapped me on the nose. “You’ll know because you’re smart.” She turned back to the perfume display and grabbed a small bottle. “I’m going to check the price — my mom loves this stuff.” She’d taken only a few steps when her foot hooked into the handles of a brightly colored canvas bag stamped with a maple leaf and the words canada forever, sitting on the floor among other similar bags.

I opened my mouth to warn her, but she’d already jerked forward with a loud oomph. Her arms flew up as she fell and the bottle of perfume collided with the ground with a brittle smash. A cloud of a citrus and musk scent filled the air. The clerks flew to her side.

I was about to do the same when I realized this was it. My hand jerked out as if it were under the authority of another force and yanked a bottle of vodka off the display, plopping it into my tote. I jammed my elbow over the top of the bag to pinch it shut and hustled to where Nicki was now standing between the two clerks. My heart beat out of control.

“Are you okay?” I asked, surprised that my voice didn’t crack with the electric tension filling every inch of my body, zapping down my nerves, lighting me up from the inside.

“I’m okay. I think.” Nicki looked down at the broken glass on the floor and her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ll have to pay for the perfume.” The tall clerk pointed to a you break it, you buy it sign by the entrance.

Nicki drew herself even straighter. “But I wasn’t being careless. I tripped on your bags, which were all over the floor.” The mouth on the tall clerk pressed into a tight line, like a slash across her face. “If you don’t pay for it, we have to call a manager.”

Panic flashed like a bright white light. I had to do something. I kicked the canvas bags now strewn across the floor. “You should call a supervisor. Maybe if you hadn’t been so busy talking, and instead had straightened up this mess, it wouldn’t have happened at all. You know, if she’s hurt, you’re liable. My dad’s a lawyer — he deals with this stuff all the time.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to swallow them back down. I hoped I was right. My dad was a dentist. Any legal knowledge I had was from watching The People’s Court when I stayed home sick from school. What had I done?

Nicki’s lip twitched. “Now that I think about it, my back is quite sore. I hit the floor pretty hard.” She rubbed the base of her spine.

The tall clerk looked ready to clobber Nicki, but the shorter woman with her hair tied up in a mountain of tiny braids put her hand lightly on the arm of the other. “We’re certainly sorry you fell.”

Nicki met her gaze. “And I’m sorry that the bottle broke.” The short clerk smiled, her white teeth as bright as the wall

tiles. “Well then, why don’t we just decide that no harm’s been done?” The tension that had been coiling inside me released.

“Are you sure?” Nicki asked. Her eyes were so wide, she looked like an anime character. When the clerk nodded, Nicki reached for me. “We should get back; our flight will be leaving soon.”

I nodded solemnly as if I were very concerned about time- liness. Every muscle in my body clenched as I walked over the threshold, anticipating a piercing alarm going off, but nothing happened. Nicki gripped my elbow. “Don’t look back. Only guilty people look behind them.”

My neck stiffened and I kept moving forward down the hall. The adrenaline that had rushed through my system seconds ago was now bailing ship and I felt lightheaded. My bag weighed a hundred pounds. I half expected every person we passed to develop x-ray vision, see through my tote, and point me out as a shoplifter. Nicki seemed to sense I was barely hold- ing it together, and she pulled me along until we reached an empty gate area. We both started giggling as we dropped into a row of seats.

“I can’t believe I did that,” I said. I opened the bag expecting the vodka to be missing, a figment of my imagination, but the bottle was there. I glanced quickly at Nicki to see if she was impressed that I’d actually done it.

“Since we’re headed to England it would have been more fitting to have nicked some gin, but a girl has to work with the opportunities she’s got.” Nicki patted the side of my leather bag. “You were perfect. When you said that line about how I could sue them, I wanted to cheer.”

I shook my head. “Are you kidding? As soon as I took the bottle, all I wanted to do was run for it. I felt like I was going to freak out at any moment.”

She laughed. “But you didn’t. Being good at something doesn’t mean that it isn’t hard or scary — it just means that you keep moving forward when other people quit.”

I laughed. “I tend to be a quitter. I’m scared of everything.” “Like what?”

I rolled my eyes. “I could make a list a mile long. For start- ers, I’m terrified of heights. I won’t even go to my grandparents’ new condo in Miami because they live on the twentieth floor. Usually when things scare me, I’m the first one to bail. I won’t go skiing, kayaking, or anyplace that looks like it will have spiders, and I get hives when I have to go to the dentist and my dad’s a dentist.”

Nicki wrinkled up her nose. “Now, I get the dentist phobia, but heights? If you’re going to be scared, be scared of something good.” She laughed. “You were scared to take the liquor, but you did it. That’s the difference between ordinary people and extraordinary. Extraordinary people might be afraid, but they do it anyway.”

My chin lifted slightly in the air. The shame over stealing was mixed up with pride in doing something risky. I wanted to brag about what I’d done and apologize all at the same time. Most of all I wanted her to keep talking. “I still can’t believe I did that,” I said. I wanted her to understand I wasn’t some- one who did things like this. Heck, I wasn’t someone who did things at all, but maybe it was as simple as deciding that I didn’t want to be that person anymore.

Nicki threw an arm around me and gave me a half hug. “Think about it. I wonder what you might do if you let yourself really go? You know, every accomplishment starts with the decision to try. And then keep trying, even when it’s hard.” She smirked. “And of course, if life gives you an opportunity, take it before it disappears. Or at least before they put the antitheft device on it.”

I packed up what she said and placed it carefully into my memory. It struck me that her advice was important. Not because I wanted to become a master criminal — I felt bad about taking the booze and couldn’t imagine doing it again. But . . . I liked that I’d done it at least once. Been like Nicki. Daring. Not afraid. She seemed to have figured out the secret to life. All the brochures for the Student Scholars program had stressed how travel made a person grow. I’d secretly thought it was a bunch of marketing bullshit. How could a change in geography make a difference? But maybe it was possible: I could evolve into someone else. I could almost picture my mom’s approval . . . and the blog post she’d write about it.

The public-address system squawked and announced that our flight would start boarding. I couldn’t believe how the three hours had flown by. I pulled the bottle slightly out of the bag. “Do you want this?”

“You keep it. I don’t know the whole story with the guy and girl back at the gate, but I suspect you need it more than me.” She pushed herself up from the seat with a ladylike grunt. “We should get going. I still want to get that gum.”

I reached for her arm before she started to walk away. “Thanks. I was feeling really down before.”

“That’s what friends are for!” She poked me in the side as if I were being silly.

“Well, I appreciate you making me a friend after only a few hours.”

Nicki smiled. “Don’t you know? I decided we were friends the instant we met.”

***

YOU OWE ME A MURDER will be available on 3.12.19! Pre-order from any of the links below.

Amazon

B&N

IndieBound

Apple Books

[indiepoptime]

STRAY KIDS SUPERHERO AU

i started this when i didn’t have wifi or a sketchbook and thus my phone’s notes app was the only thing i had to entertain myself. i didn’t get very far, but decided to finish because we got a fandom name recently (hello fellow stays!!!) and also our boys are coming back so soon and i’m E X C I T E D as hell

anyways i’ll keep one before the cut as a teaser and the rest under it so this post doesnt get too long. this isn’t in age order like i usually do it because....idk. it felt right to do chan first.

hope y’all enjoy this one as much as my day6 one from a bit back!! 

Bang Chan/Chan:

—the batman type of superhero who everyone thinks has some insane power/ability but really is just a normal dude armed with his smarts, charisma, and a small collection of taser guns

—is one of the only members without a secret identity (he barely has a costume. it’s literally a black onesie at best; he wears what he can change into fast) but the members still spy on him because they think he’s lying about not having powers

—works from home in graphic design so that he has the flexibility to do both daytime and nighttime shifts as a hero (we see his priorities here—he still doesn’t get enough sleep)

—doesn’t kill and actively tries to rehabilitate his opponents while he fights them

—villains hate him because they find him irritating, except the ones who he’s managed to actually reform (who, to be fair, still find him irritating but don’t hate him because he’s made their lives better) and who are now grudgingly his “allies” through a variety of physical and figurative debts

—the of-age members have a drinking game where they’ll take a shot after work every time chan ends a battle by calling to a villain by name and taking them out to ice cream/boba/fries (still in costume)

—won’t shut up about how much he loves his team to the point where he’s on probation for public appearances because he’ll inevitably give away a member’s identity. regardless, he’s the undisputed leader and every single member trusts him with their secret identity if they have one

Woojin:

—student with a part-time job as a barista and also as a superhero

—running joke is that he didn’t mean to be on a superhero team, but chan joined his chill study club and turned it into a vigilante club without him realizing what was happening until it was too late

—he just goes with the jokes, but secretly can’t remember how he was pulled into this whole superhero mess either. the thought concerns him a little (but not that much)

—speedster who complains about his “slowness” anyways, leading to his being called either the grandpa or the bear (perpetual hibernation; the members joke that one day he will actually sleep through his own life) of the team

—hard-carries the team in a silent, un-flashy way—a lot of his work in battle is done speeding from place to place, stealing weapons, changing the position of mines and traps

—complains about the members a lot, but genuinely views himself as their personal guardian and would gladly sacrifice his life for them even if he’s somewhat clumsy about it

—the members still give him shit about the one time he rammed into a glass door at the speed of sound and shattered it all over himself (thank god for armored suits) to save jeongin from what he thought was a villain but was actually just a large bird/tree/telephone pole (the story’s gotten muddled over the years)

Lee Know/Minho:

—a professional dancer who’s been in the industry for years, though he’s only recently come out of the shadows as a backing dancer and into the spotlight as a solo act; the development of his powers over fire and electricity have allowed him to put on some pretty impressive performances

—woojin meets him one day in his coffee shop and, after recognizing him from his dancing, asks him about his powers and advertises his club to him. after a few drops by the shop, minho decides to pay the club a visit and essentially adopts all the members as his unspoken proteges

—his fighting style is a mixture of dance and martial arts, which he learned when he was younger, plus a few neat tricks with fire that allow him to hover and propel/flip in the air

—“why are you afraid of heights—you literally fly!”

—“IT’S DIFFERENT OK”

—he’s by far the most popular member with the public, most of whom have not quite made the connection between the graceful fire dancer on stage and the aggressive but also elegant fighter that he becomes in battle. a few of his fans have obviously connected the dots, but are fiercely loyal to his brand and consider it their little secret

—nevertheless, he’s not at all afraid of losing his secret identity and simply keeps it because he can

—he tells the members that he’s already a celeb anyways, so it doesn’t really matter, and happily posts little hints to his identities on all of his social media (he’s got sites for Nightstriker (his superhero name—as pretentious as possible) and himself) while the other members stare on in shock

Changbin:

—rich as h e c k; the one facet of batman that chan lacks

—an amateur graphic novelist with a passion for collecting things: he’s got at least 200 stuffed animals, boxes upon boxes of antique marbles, and enough superhero suits (that he had custom-made depending on his mood and age) to last a small lifetime

—he’s wanted to be a superhero since he was very small, since he spent a lot of his youth reading books and comics, but didn’t develop powers until later in life so he turned to novel-writing as a way to become a hero in fantasy

—when he was 17, his power over shadow finally started to manifest, catching him off guard. at first he could only do small things like blind people or turn the lights off without moving, but eventually he learned that he could literally control people’s bodies by manipulating their shadows

—he went to woojin’s club out of fear, afraid that his powers were too dark to control, and that he couldn’t be the hero he wanted to be if he couldn’t control them

—the other members but especially minho took him under their wing and showed him that there were multiple sides to his power that he could harness in order to achieve balance: the darkness of shadow, but also the light around it

—once changbin gains control over his powers, he considers it his debt to shower the other members with ridiculously luxurious items from home. he’s never quite known what to do with all of his wealth, most of it inherited, so he just keeps buying stuff for the people who helped him

—minho’s not sure what to do with the fancy gold-lined bidet that suddenly appears in his backstage bathroom, but he goes with it

Han/Jisung:

—a childhood friend of changbin’s who re-entered his life when he needed an illustrator to help him with his graphic novels

—equipped with a raging imagination since he was very young, jisung’s powers actually manifest while he’s working on one of changbin’s comics: he accidentally imagines one of the monsters from its pages into being

—changbin and him end up having to fight it and, after changbin helps a stunned jisung defeat the monster with his darkness powers (which jisung previously didn’t know existed), he offers to take his friend to woojin’s club to help him control his newfound abilities

—like minho took changbin under his wing, chan takes it upon himself to help jisung reign in his wayward imagination and bend it to his will. as someone who has to remain calm at all times and evaluate the situation to take advantage of it because of his lack of powers, chan is in a unique position to help jisung concentrate

—once jisung is able to handle his abilities at least to a certain extent, he excitedly provides the club with their own building, furnished with plush furniture and a frighteningly large sunflower lamp in the living room. he refuses to compromise on both the lamp and the building’s fuchsia walls and insists that if they want something different they’ll have to buy it, which changbin immediately does

—his favorite weapon in battle is a giant yellow hammer that he created, which he’s happily named j.won to foreshadow his impending victories. his members are tired and have basically given up on him

Hyunjin:

—if minho’s fame as a celebrity dancer is discounted, then hyunjin would win as the most popular member simply because he’s STELLAR at hiding his identity and everyone is curious as hell

—literally has no clue how popular he is and doesn’t believe it when the other members tell him

—everyone thinks he’s significantly older than he actually is because he has a very dark costume that covers his entire body and a green jeweled mask that covers his face (the jewels came from changbin; the green was hyunjin’s idea)

—his power is poison, and he’s damn good at using it. not only can he erode/poison an enemy by touching them, forcing them to grow progressively weaker throughout a battle; he can also use words to poison: his power allows him to discover his enemy’s worst fear and use it to weaken them

—like changbin, he came to the club out of fear, but not because he was worried that his power would overcome him, but because he worried that controlling and using it made him a bad person

—under the guidance of chan and changbin, he learns to limit his powers and use them to curb evil/violence without crossing the line himself

—when he first came to the club, he was attached to changbin at the hip because he felt a kindred spirit in him, but eventually he would start to absorb the joy of some of the other members, especially jisung and felix (who were usually around changbin anyway)

Felix:

—having come from abroad and found himself both directionless and moneyless, felix turns to stealing in order to provide for himself. he breaks into changbin’s home thinking that he and his family aren’t there, only to find changbin wrestling himself into one of his many superhero suits (the family outing, while true for the rest of his family, was a distraction for changbin to change)

—after the shock of that first meeting, changbin “invites” (more like grudgingly accepts) his intruder into his home and offers him a full meal, as well as a free shower and some nice clothes before going out on his mission

—somewhere down the line changbin realizes that he’s adopted a younger brother somehow? and it’s actually kind of nice?? once felix is cleaned up and not stealing, he’s very smiley and cute and follows changbin around the house everywhere offering to help

—eventually, changbin isn’t able to keep felix from coming along with him to one of his club meetings, wherein felix gains a bucketload of new role models

—chan is SO COOL, especially because he doesn’t have powers, and because felix thinks that he also doesn’t have powers, he spends every meeting trying to get chan to teach him stuff

—eventually, the team takes felix aside to try to figure out if he DOES have any powers (since, changbin insists, if he’s gonna keep coming with me we gotta keep him NOT DEAD. I HAVE BROTHERLY DUTIES)

—it doesn’t take them long to discover that felix definitely does have powers, and that they were kind of obvious: he can turn himself intangible at will, and he does it unconsciously. it’s how he’s been getting into houses undetected

—woojin takes him as his apprentice, since his powers are fairly similar (SO COOL, says felix)

—jisung calls him Filly Pryde and insists that this should be his superhero name when he goes public—the rest of the team wants to die in that instant

Seungmin:

—the only member of the team who actually came to the club on his own free will and wasn’t brought in by another member

—was a HUGE fan of the superhero team before he joined; he followed all of their public appearances and kept newspaper cuts of their battles in his room, as well as identity graphs where he’s hunted down info about all of the members and tried to figure out who they actually were

—when he joins, woojin comes to the apartment that he shares with his mom and sister and seungmin is a frenzy of COVER UP EVERYTHING THEY CAN’T KNOW THAT I KNOW hi im seungmin

—while hyunjin trained himself because he HAD to, seungmin built up his seemingly useless power to make it into a superhero-worthy skill. he can control paper, but has trained himself to have limited control over different types of trees (those that are made to make paper, which he’s taught himself to recognize on sight)

—he’s also extremely skilled at using paper folding/origami as a weapon using speed and the angle of the edge of the paper. basically paper-cuts on steroids

—changbin makes the mistake of hazarding a joke about seungmin’s ability when they first meet, before seungmin almost saws his nose off (and also berates him with hundreds of embarrassing incidents from past fights that seungmin somehow still remembers)

—he and minho have a bomb combo move that involves minho lighting trains of paper knives on fire and it is, in felix’s words, the best thing on this good earth

I.N/Jeongin:

—seungmin’s protege

—jeongin’s power is the most obvious of the whole team’s: he’s got 4-foot angel wings that are probably still growing. when they first sprouted, he was almost beat nonsensical before seungmin paper-cut his bullies into near delirium and then told jeongin that his wings were the most awesome thing he’d ever seen

—seungmin then brought jeongin home, made him a variety of beautiful paper capes and shawls to hide his folded wings, and then went to the club to have jisung make him a bag whose straps could fit his wings through them, as well as fabric copies of the paper designs

—after a while, jisung began to question who he was making these extravagant gifts for, and had woojin & chan ask seungmin to bring his protege to the club

—afraid that his team would think jeongin was either too young or ill-prepared to be a superhero, seungmin spent an entire night preparing a 20-slide ppt presentation complete with images and research for his case, as well as a few days training jeongin in basic battle skills

—he needn’t have been worried though; chan falls in love with jeongin instantly and forces the rest of the team to accept him as well, which doesn’t take much forcing at all once the kid smiles

—“WHAT IS THAT PEST??!” demands a villain, gesturing at a flying jeongin

—“THAT’S OUR BABY!” chan yells back

[ajay-gayle]

Watch_Dholes

Ajay was just an aimless hacker, a street rat running with a gang in San Francisco. When his mother dies and with her dying wish secures him an internship to Pagan Min's own private company, he finds himself traveling to the country of Kyrat. But everything is not what it seems, and he soon finds himself immediately dragged away from the safety of his internship and into North Kyrat's seedy criminal underbelly by a hacker faction of revolutionaries called the Golden Path. [Watch_Dogs AU] 0_1: Entry

The sun rises over North Kyrat, illuminating the skyscrapers in its gentle glow. Light reflects through the empty windows of hollow, unoccupied shells. People mill about the city, beginning their day. Most of them flock to the Kyra Tea building that looms over the rest of the city. Buildings stand cold and empty, posing more as monuments than functional spaces. The desolate streets gives the city an eerie, almost liminal feeling. There are other corporations that occupy the city, evident from the glow of neon reflecting off of the multitude of windows that make up the large structures. In the distance, the basic, barely developed plains of South Kyrat can be seen.

Pagan Min’s business influence had called major players into the city, and their companies stand in both harmony and opposition. Development had began almost immediately under Pagan’s critical eye. Not that the citizens of Kyrat wanted this sort of thing. They didn’t have much of a choice under their monarch.

A rickety bus rattles over the bridge into North Kyrat and heads for the very heart of the city.

Ajay stares out the window of the bus and watches the buildings pass by. He takes note of the strangely empty streets. It’s almost as if this one city was built for more people than there are in the whole country. He sighs to himself and looks down at the Kyra Tea intern badge hanging around his neck. Ajay is finding this whole situation equal parts uncomfortable and concerning. He knows he’s not qualified for any kind of internship or job here, but… His mom signed him up for this just before she died. Sort of like a dying wish. He loves his mom but this…. Isn’t what he wanted to do with his life. Though, it’s not like there was much of an alternative. He could have easily gotten out of it, but if he did, his mother would probably haunt him until he complied anyways. He takes his earbuds out and frowns at his tired reflection in the window. The bus rolls to a stop near the Kyra Tea building and Ajay gets out. He doesn’t bother tipping the driver: it’s a bit hard when he has almost no money, really. Along with leaving him with no money, his mother had also told him nothing about the job or the country of Kyrat. A quick Nudle search had revealed some rather unsavory things, but… this is his mother's dying wish. He’s not sure why she wanted this for him. At all. Ajay pulls out his phone to check for a wifi signal and pulls up a hacking tab on his app, Halogen, to search the area for cameras. He finds that the only building nearby that has any is Kyra Tea. He manages to tap into the network easily, despite the ridiculous amount of protection. Who needs this much protection against hacking anyways? He takes a quick glance at all the camera locations, and the feed they are receiving. Kyra Tea seems…. Exactly as a normal company should. Ajay stops at the front doors and stares up at the towering building. A scowl crosses his face. Something feels way off, but he can’t put his finger on it. He sucks a breath in through his teeth, then walks inside. He’s immediately accosted by a bright middle aged man in a garish pink suit. “Ah, Ajay! I’ve been expecting you, boy!” He claps a gloved hand on Ajay’s shoulder and smiles. “Uh…?” Ajay takes a minute to find his bearings. “I, um, I’m here for the internship. My mom-” “Yes, of course! Ishwari sent you. I’m well aware of your situation and believe me, at my side, you’ll have nothing to worry about!” The man links his arm with Ajay’s and leads him along. They pass through several very similar-looking office spaces. They almost look too similar. Ajay scans his eyes over all the faces in the crowd. All Kyrati. They wear the same uniform; a white shirt with the Kyra Tea logo and black slacks. He feels a jolt of nervousness run through him. He’s never been in a corporate space like this. Well, that’s not true. His mind drifts to the past. He remembers a time back in San Francisco when his little hacker gang tried to infiltrate a large corporation to get some info and place a damaging virus in the mainframe. It had ended with some employee getting shot after one of the twitchier gang members was startled. They had tried to run away, but police arrested them all. The shooting hadn’t been Ajay’s fault, but they had planned to make an example of him. Luckily he’d been able to fudge some details on the court records and got off scot-free. Ajay has a realization after a few minutes of being lost in his mind. This man is Pagan Min. The Pagan Min. Monarch and corporate leader of the country of Kyrat. “A-at your side? I’m just an intern.” Pagan scoffs, then looks at Ajay. “Just an intern? Didn’t Ishwari tell you?” Pagan leads Ajay down a hallway. Ajay peers into an open door and- was that blood on the floor? Pagan shuts the door in his face before he can get a better look inside. “Ah-ah. No snooping. Yet.” Pagan laughs. After taking a moment to recover, Ajay shakes his head. “Mom told me nothing.” He furrows his brows a little at the troubling new information. Thelack of information also concerns him. “Well, boy, you-” Pagan’s cell phone rings. He groans like it’s the worst thing in the world and pulls out his phone to check who it is. His expression sours further and he pulls Ajay into a fancy break room. “I need to take this call, Ajay. Don’t move, I’ll be right back. Take a seat in the room here, and enjoy the cucumber water.”

Ajay stares at the blank wall in front of him, trying to connect dots in his head. There’s something bad here under the surface. He didn’t see any evidence of it on the cameras, but of course he wouldn’t. Something is off about Pagan Min… and what his mom didn’t tell him. She had to have known about all this. He knows that was blood he saw. A few minutes of pondering pass before he gets to his feet and pulls out his phone to check the cameras again. The motion is interrupted as someone comes through the door. “Ajay?” A Kyrati man stands at the door. He’s a bit shorter than Ajay and has his hair up in a messy ponytail.  A distinctive scar crosses over his eyebrow and nears his eye, but it’s almost as if he tried to cover it up with a bit of concealer that doesn’t quite match his skin tone. He holds a hand out. “I’m Sabal. Pagan sent me to finish giving you this tour. His business will take a bit... longer than he expected.” Sabal fidgets with the pager he’s holding. Ajay can’t recognize the make or model of it, which he finds odd. Not as odd as some of the other things he’s seen so far, but it puts him on edge. Ajay takes his hand and shakes, feeling a bit wary of anyone Pagan sent. He notices the way Sabal glances over his shoulder, and the quick turn made as a security guard passes. Sabal lets go of his hand after an almost awkwardly long hold. “Right this way.” Sabal takes a second to peer out of the doorway to check for security. He probably doesn’t realize how suspicious this looks to anyone, namely Ajay, watching. He steps into the hall and waves Ajay to follow him to a nearby elevator. Once his charge is inside, he lets out a sigh and makes sure the doors close quickly. He checks around for cameras, then spots one in the corner and taps at his pager. The camera fizzles and melts a little. “We need to get you out of here. I’m sorry for being deceptive, but I’m not working for Pagan.” Sabal is not used to this type of mission or potential confrontation. He glances to the side at Ajay. Being on the front lines like this isn’t something he’s comfortable with, but someone skilled had to get in. He’s supposed to be looking for Darpan, but he can’t find any sign of him. Every camera shows nothing, and he’s checked everywhere that didn’t have a feed. There must be something that he’s missing but there’s no time to go around again. Especially not with Ajay in tow. “No shit, Sherlock. Who are you?” Ajay raises an eyebrow at him. “And is this going to get me killed? Because I’d rather not die this week.” It’s almost like he can feel Sabal’s nervousness. “I’ll explain once we’re out of here.” Sabal replies curtly. “We don’t have much time before-” As if on cue, the alarms scream to life. He dips his head in resignation. “Before… well, that.”

[studyabroadspain]

Where to Begin?

‘The countdown begins...I have about three weeks until I leave to go to a completely foreign country with not a single friend of mine going. You could say I am pretty intimidated right about now.’ 

I wrote that in on of my very first journal entries when documenting everything I felt before leaving to Spain. There is so much that I know now that I wish I could tell myself then so instead I will inform you. 

First of all, do not be scared. You are about to embark on one of the most life changing experiences of your life. It is normal to be scared, but whatever you do don’t let that fear hold you back. The best way to calm those nerves is to prepare appropriately. Now you may ask how does one prepare correctly?

Pack your suitcase for every possible climate. This includes shorts, dresses, pants, coats, and most importantly rain coats. If you are from Flagstaff you already know just how unpredictable weather can be. I packed for Spain with the mindset that the weather app is all knowing, but that is simply not the case.

Another tip is to figure out what you are going to do with your cell phone. I highly recommend the WhatsApp. This app allows you to text, call and FaceTime with people in a different country. This app only works with wifi. This is a pre trip tip because you need to download the app, sign up, and have the entire app ready to use BEFORE leaving to the other country.  

This tip will save you a lot of worry time in the future. When I was purchasing my tickets online I bought the cheapest tickets I could find. I did not ask my self a lot of questions about it either. That was my mistake. You must buy plane tickets with MORE than enough time between your connecting flights. I would say at least two hours between flights. I do believe that one hour is doable, but depending on where you are flying out of and when could make that impossible. That last thing that you want to do is be stuck in a foreign country trying to figure out other travel plans or not be able to make it to you country on time and miss you flight. (That happened to a guy on my trip). 

This is not nearly everything you need to do in order to prepare for your trip, but these are all the things that I did not think about and did not acknowledge being important until it was too late.