#// yes. always. he’s got the stock market in his brain so clearly. he needs an even bigger distraction

[tewwor]

ah …. ah????? suddenly reminded of the rare times nana’s gone clubbing????? i think he should go at least once more???? someone go with him?? someone leave with him?????????

take your pick of slightly elevated casual wear ( dark muted blue top and dark pants ) or a throwback to his once #emo days with the leather pants and all black attire. simple accessories. styled hair. really nice cologne of bergamot, tea leaf, and sandal wood — warm with a dash of spice and smells expensive.

[gumnut-logic]

Two Birds with One Stone (Bit 6 and The End)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 | Bit 6

I finished it! Yay! Still @godsliltippy​ ‘s fault. I’m just happy to have this one off my plate because yesterday I wrote 2000 words of a new fic! I’m incurable, I have to say ::headdesk:: Like I have so many waiting to be finished ::wails::

But lookie! I finished one ::distracts all with this single finished fic waving it around with glee::

Many thank to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for all their support through this fic and of course to Tippy for sparking it in the first place with this glorious piece of art!

I can actually archive something cos it is finished! Yay!

I hope you enjoy it...cos it is finished! It’s a miracle!

-o-o-o-

“A combine harvester?!”

“Totally cool sounding, don’t you think? I’m adding it to my list.”

Virgil stared at his brother. “You have a list? Of what?”

“Dramatic stuff. Near misses. Things worth bragging about at the bar.”

Virgil blinked, fortunately with both eyes this time, since the swelling was starting to go down.

He was sitting up in bed, surrounded by flowers. Grandma had gone all out this time with two boys in the hospital. Fortunately, they wouldn’t be in much longer.

Alan had dragged in one of Virgil’s sketchbooks and to Virgil’s surprise, he had found the energy to draw for a little while, though his head wouldn’t take much.

And his head was more than one problem.

He was missing half his hair.

And he looked stupid.

Worse, there was a jagged slice in his scalp where apparently a piece of that combine harvester had made it through his helmet and nearly sliced him in half.

The thought was downright alarming and he shunted it to the back of his mind with not a little terror.

He would examine it later.

Later.

But the problem at the moment, apart from the bandages that conveniently hid the issue temporarily, he only had half a head of hair and it looked stupid.

He had to appreciate that Gordon hadn’t laughed. In fact, none of his brothers had laughed at him. He couldn’t fault them for that.

Though there was a sparkle in Gordon’s eye that foretold at least one comment in the future, even if it was fond and caring.

Besides…

He kept waking up to find Gordon sitting on the end of his bed.

It was done with nonchalance and a smile, but Virgil was beginning to suspect an underlying cause. Not that he couldn’t acknowledge that he was happy to see his little brother and sharing a room with him in hospital was actually a boon to the medical process, but honestly, Virgil was beginning to worry.

“Don’t you have a list?”

Of course, a fish without a pond tended to be a bored fish.

“No, not really.”

“You don’t count successful rescues?”

“John and Scott keep records. I don’t like to dwell.”

His little brother shrugged. “I get that.”

There was silence for a while and Virgil let himself settle back into his pillow. Dosing was a rare pleasure.

“So, you don’t take advantage of being a hero even a tiny bit?”

Virgil blinked and frowned. “What?”

Gordon rolled over holding his injured arm and settled so he could see Virgil clearly. “You know, leverage a little heroism to start a conversation? Get one up on the stiffs at parties?”

He stared at his brother. “Are you having trouble at Penny’s charity functions?”

“Nooo.”

Okay, that meant yes. “You should talk to her, Gords.” He shrugged. “Need a wingman? I could come with.” Though he had to admit, he could see where Gordon was coming from. Some of those attendees were definitely stiffs who had never lifted a finger to help anyone but themselves in their entire lives.

“I can handle it.”

Okay, Virgil was definitely filching an invite to the next one. Could even drag in Scott. Big bro would torch the social scene. He wasn’t a fan, but he could play...to every other man’s detriment.

Or Virgil could ask John. Having a genius brother in orbit who had a daughter who had been told off several times already for influencing the stock market was an advantage.

“Virgil, stop the plotting. It is fine. I’ve got this. I just flex a little muscle, mention a few scars and spin a few tales. Joe WallStreet, or whatever they call it in London, doesn’t stand a chance.”

He eyed his brother. The urge to step in was strong.

Gordon smirked. “It is fine. Besides, you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon with that hairstyle.”

It was an obvious subject change, but it still earned Gordon a blistering glare. “Shut up.”

A snort and Gordon capitulated. “Don’t worry, bro, it’s cool. Shave the other side, get yourself some tatts and no one will ever question you on a rescue ever again.” The second snort was almost a giggle.

If only he could reach Gordon, clap him up the head.

There must have been something in his expression because Gordon burst out laughing, rolling on the bed, holding his arm to his side.

“You’re an ass.”

“And you, my dear artist bro, are entertaining.”

“Shove it.”

But at least Gordon was smiling.

Virgil would take that any day.

-o-o-o-

Gordon was up and about long before Virgil and took to disappearing from time to time into the depths of the hospital, often with one brother or the other and on several occasions, with Penelope.

Virgil didn’t get out much. He still had headaches and occasional dizzy spells, a lead on from a massive concussion and was the reason why they were still in hospital. Virgil had no doubt Gordon could probably have gone home, but was hanging about just because Virgil couldn’t.

If it pinned Gordon under medical observation and not in the ocean after such a serious injury, Virgil wasn’t going to argue. But it was frustrating that he himself wasn’t very mobile and he was sick of staring at the ceiling tiles.

They always bugged him as his artistic brain always constructed designs out of them and they always lacked symmetry.

Grandma, Alan, John, Scott and even Kayo were regular visitors. The Tracy clan had parked themselves in a nearby hotel, no doubt fueling both news agencies and the local economy.

Virgil just wanted to go home.

And Scott was out of sorts.

Scott was always out of sorts when a member of the family was injured, but this was different. And it was bugging Virgil.

Between his own injuries and the inability to pin his brother down due to interruptions and the lack of alone time, whatever it was that was bugging Scott was festering.

Topeka hospital was a familiar place to all of them. It had been their local major hospital for much of their formative years and considering the tornado seasons and IR responses, a regular delivery point for rescuees. There was a rooftop garden that had been sat in on several occasions in the past and it was with some conniving that Virgil spoke to Kayo to arrange for a corner of it to be secured so Virgil could go and sit up there for a bit of fresh air and privacy with his big brother.

He had no doubt that Scott knew he was being railroaded, but the lack of protest just emphasised how troubled his big brother was.

The sounds of the city below were no longer familiar and Virgil found himself longing for the ocean and the quiet of Tracy Island. It was evening, the sun having just set and the sky was a welcome sight after being confined to ceiling tiles for a few days, but the stars were dim, hidden by light pollution and a touch of smog.

It made him even more homesick.

“You okay, Virg?”

Scott had pushed him up here in a hoverchair. Virgil still needed it due to the dizzy spells and it ticked him off to no end. “Just homesick.”

Hi brother sighed. “Won’t be long. A couple of days and I’ll take you down to the beach and you can lay on the sand and stare at the stars to your heart’s content.”

Virgil shot him a glare. “I’m not John.”

“But you miss the stars anyway.”

Virgil grumbled. “I’m just used to seeing them.” He waved at hand at the sky. “It’s not the same.”

“Uh huh.” Scott was smiling in that condescending big brother knows better way he was so good at.

“Shut up.”

Scott didn’t stop grinning, he just dragged the ‘chair backwards until it nestled beside a park bench and then sat himself down beside Virgil.

They sat in silence for a while and Virgil let the soundscape seep into him. It was quieter up here than inside the hospital. There was a breeze with the scent of farmland under that pervasive smell of the city and cooling concrete. The breeze spoke of a possible storm in the distance. Virgil hoped it wasn’t a supercell. He had had enough of tornadoes for some time.

He missed the scent of the sea.

A sigh. He was being pathetic and falling into the doldrums over nothing. He was getting better. He would be home soon.

And screw it, he would plant his butt on a beach and drag Scott with him just to piss him off.

“You okay?”

Huh? Scott was peering at him, that worry ever persistent in the darkness of his eyes.

“It is you who I’m worried about.” So, it was defensive, big deal. Needed to start the conversation somehow.

“Me? I’m not the one who took on a combine harvester and nearly lost.”

“It wasn’t exactly a choice, you know.”

“I know.” It was quiet and Virgil knew he had hit the nail on the head.

“Talk to me, Scott.”

“About what?”

Virgil flat-eyed glared at him. “About whatever has been bugging you the last few days.”

“I would have thought that was obvious with two brothers in the hospital.” Definitely defensive.

“No. This is more.”

“What? There are degrees? I don’t need analysis, Virg.”

Virgil pressed his lips together. “You’re hurting. You’re not talking. What other recourse do I have?”

“Do you need one?”

“Of course, I do! You’re you! Whatever this is, it’s weighing on you and I hate to see you in pain.”

“I’m not in pain. It’s you who was injured.”

“If you’re trying to tell me that doesn’t affect you, you’re either lying through your teeth or I should be even more worried because you’ve obviously suffered brain damage of some kind and are no longer the Scott Tracy I know. Perhaps I should check you for a holographic disguise.”

Scott let out an annoyed scoff and shot to his feet, his actions agitated. “Virg, it’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Goddamnit, Virgil-“

“Talk to me!” And yelling apparently hurt his head, because it throbbed in protest. He grit his teeth and glared up at his brother. Please, Scott, for both our sakes.

“It was close, okay? Too damned close.”

Virgil swallowed. He knew that. “Not the first time.”

“So, I should be used to it by now?” Despite the darkness, Scott was lit up with internal fire.

“No.”

But he had finally triggered the avalanche and Scott spilled it all over him.

“Do you have any idea how close this was? Millimetres and you wouldn’t be here anymore, Virg.”

“Again, not the first time.”

“But it was so senseless!” Scott’s hands shot out palm up, desperate for understanding. “You weren’t even in the middle of a rescue. The sky just opened up, stabbed down a twister and threw a chunk of farm machinery at you. It lasted mere seconds and it nearly took both of you. Why? If you had landed a few metres further away, if you had been a few seconds later in arrival, hell, the margin for error was astronomical, yet, it still happened. I nearly lost you and Gordy for no damned reason whatsoever!”

“You need a reason?”

“Goddamned, I do! If I’m going to lose a brother, at least it should be for a reason. A sacrifice made for the good of all.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way.” Virgil’s heart was thudding in his chest.

“Well, it should. We do so much, sacrifice so much already, I don’t think it is too much to ask. We’ve already lost...” Scott shoved his face into his hands and parked himself back on the park bench. “Why the hell do you ask me these things?”

Ever so quiet. “Because they need to be asked.”

“I hate it.”

“I know.”

“I nearly lost you for nothing.”

“We were there for a reason. We both went in knowing the danger, you know that.”

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I’d be worried if it did.” Virgil sighed. “We survived, Scott. Thanks to you. You were fast enough.”

The grunt and groan that made it out between his brother’s fingers was pain itself.

The hoverchair made it awkward, but Virgil reached out and snagged his big brother with an arm and hauled him in the best he could. Scott, of course, protested, but Virgil’s arms were not injured and he was always smug that he had at least one thing racked up on the achievement scale that beat his almighty big brother and that was strength.

So, Scott was dragged into a hug whether he wanted it or not.

“Still here.”

Scott grumbled something unintelligible.

“Gords is adding it to his story list to tell at Penny’s parties.”

“He’s what?”

Distraction achieved.

“Wanna drop by Penny’s next charity dinner and play wingman to Gords? You get to take a few stiffs down a peg or million. Apparently, a few asses need a big brother kicking. We can break out Johnny and Eos for extra fun, if you like.”

“Who’s been messing with Gordon?” There it was. Exactly the trigger point needed.

“The Joe Wallstreets seem to think they are better than a fish Tracy.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Want to help me educate them? Though admittedly Gords was doing quite well on his own, higher education is always a good thing.”

Scott was staring at him in the darkness. It was obvious his brother knew exactly what Virgil was doing.

“I’ll be there.”

“Great. It will be good PR for whatever charity Penny is supporting. With a bit of luck we can play it to her advantage as well.”

Scott was still staring at him.

“What?”

Ever so quiet. “What would I do without you?”

Virgil swallowed, desperately ignoring all the implications and the reverse of that question. “Here’s hoping we never find out.”

Scott sighed and let his head drop onto Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil just tugged him a little tighter and returned to trying to see the stars.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[deanirae]

Can you get it inside your head I’m tired of dancing?  

post 8.07 pre 8.08] crack/angst past turned unrequited deancas, implied deanbenny 2,4k [x]

The sun, also currently known as bitch, has got some serious nerve to sit where it always does, not upside down and nine miles to the left as it frankly should on this memorable fuckhat day. Where is the End of Days when it's really called for? When it should be really nigh?

Dean flips the front mirror panel down not to have to deal with at least that one disappointment. He can still see Cas's half-constipated, half-abandoned and kicked in its fluffy ass puppy face in the mercilessly annoying reflection. The obvious choice would be to not grace it with anything right now, but A – he's the one driving so his eyes can't wander off pretty far, especially in the barely sunlit grayness – and B – on his left, Sam is currently roleplaying a twelve year old girl that has her big emotional introspection accompanied by listening to Sarah McLahlan because her mean parents wouldn't let her buy ebola from the internet. Or something.

Point is, he's three hours into ostentatiously moping, trying to quietly terrorize Dean into making peace with Cas on the fly so it won't be awkward and problematique for him anymore. To Sam, Dean is just too inconvenient anytime he's inconvenient. And that, by order of nature herself, demands immediate and final stopping and ballot recounting also.

And Dean's point is, that it's not gonna happen anytime soon.

And Cas's point – assuming he’s still remotely capable of making those –  seems to be dead-set on that 50:50 face thing. And Dean regrets briefly glancing; with more or less the same intensity he regrets his whole life on the crap weather days his bones hurt harder than it should be legal.

Sam, in his hemhorroidal disturbance, reaches out to the tape deck and attempts to put anything on, but Dean feels like exactly zero of his tapes right now, so he swats Sam's hand off with a loud smack. Judging from the faces he gets for that, it's gotta be resonating in their heads a lot.

It's gonna be a long ride to Lousiana, way longer and more exhausting than the freshly puked from Purgatory one. In fact, the closer they get to Lafayette, the more tired he is and they won't start working the vetalas case until tomorrow night because apparently hanging around clubs on fridays is the new hanging downside of trees or whatever cool thing it was vetalas were doing before the rise of the all you can eat buffet of horny dicks certain they're gonna get reverse cowgirls for a two dollar drink. Or reverse cowboys. Fucking cheapskates. Some of them do have it coming. But in severe STDs, not in this.

In itself, waiting for the actual hunt really doesn't need to be a problem. It's just that Sam and Cas are fucked-bent on having it be one because—

“I said I'm going to stay with you and join you on hunts,” Cas finally snaps. „There's no need for this 'backup' as you call it, Dean.”

—Because that.

“Don't air quote it, man,” Dean mutters wearily, because of course Cas air quoted it.

“And there is absolutely no need for you to sleep in a vampire's camping truck when we have plenty of motels to pick from,” Cas rants on, zero deterred and plus ten determined, clearly not tuning into Dean's I don't wanna discuss that vibe.

Annnd because that too, yeah.

“Well I donno, I sure didn't want us to look like some sort of a hookup site for salvation army fashionistas threesome. You'll thank me later. Or you can do it now and shut up when you're done, how's that.”

“A vampire,” Sam interrupts his polished bitchface just to whine it out, which has to be peak brotherly care by his modern standards.

“You two asshats had no problem leaving me in vamp-vegas for a goddamn year,” Dean growls. “I am an adult adult and I need some me-time that isn't you time. And I'm gonna have awesome time while I'm at it. Sue me if that's a crime. Bother my lawyer.”

“You don’t have a lawyer”, says Sam.

“Aren’t you kind of a lawyer?” Dean remembers suddenly. “Or at least close enough for you two to bother each other and not me?”

“No, didn’t get to get there yet, thanks to you,” Sam mutters, also suddenly remembering the past life of his that was never meant to be.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, Dean whines. “Did I set your girlfriend on fire?”

“Fuck off.”

“I thought you missed me,” as if triggered by the word fuck, Cas drops the bomb with an evenness in his voice which hints at many things but Dean's brain is too stop-record screech to dissect them right now.

“What?” he blurts out, confused and affronted both.

“I thought you missed me,” Cas repeats, lower and harder like Dean's a stupid cat that won't spit out what it's chewing.

“Cas, I really don't wanna do this.”

“You kept praying to me to come back, Dean. After you were out of Purgatory. I heard you. Those were quite some prayers. Now you're putting yourself in real danger just to stay away from me. I don’t understand.”

Sam just stares at Dean, the always most helpful thing on the planet that he is. Thanks, Sam. Dean stares at the road. Cas stares daggers through the back of Dean's head. Poor Baby can't just leave this situation so she just keeps on rollin’. Nobody wins that day.

“That was before you told me you were lying your ass off just to kick me out last minute. Your subscription for my prayers and personal Jesus license have now expired, by the way. Like, the fuck does talking to you even do?”

“Fine!” Castiel snaps, so close to throwing his hands in the air for a grand effect but luckily thinking better of it since he's in a car that has a roof among other things. “I understand that you're angry—” he tries to start over, calmer, after a self-collecting breath.

“No, you don't,” Dean mutters.

“But you can't risk your life in the stupidest available way just to get back at me, Dean. Not after everything I've done to make sure you come back safe.”

Well at least he didn't include Sam in that „saving” part.

“You were there, man. You know Benny never double crossed me or you. What the exact fuck is your problem with him?”

A very angry squint-frown precedes the actual answer.

“You were his ticket to Earth. Now your life doesn't hold the same value.”

“Thanks, Cas. That's really swee—”

“You know that's not what I meant, Dean,” Cas growls in a tone that's clearly a final warning.

So final even Sam and his high horse must have heard since he steps in to defuse Cas.

“Cas, I'm not a fan of saying it, but Benny isn't a threat to Dean. I think the guy is kinda trying to settle,” he offers.

Dean smiles a little bit.

“See, Cas?”

“But I'm worried he might have more vamps trying to take him down because he pissed off every fang that ever knew him and then some. This is actual danger, Dean.”

“What?!” Castiel explodes in unbridled rage.

“Sam, have you ever wondered where do snitches go after they die?”

“Dean, you know I'm serious.”

“Ditches,” Dean concludes.

“When exactly were you going to tell me this?” Castiel asks coldly. “After you get killed by vampire avengers?”

“They're all taken care of, Cas. No mean jokes this time. Relax.”

“With your Winchester luck? I doubt it.”

“Oh, come on. It's not like you wouldn't bring me back even if something did happen.”

“Yes, even twice because first I would have personally destroyed you for being so reckless.”

“I know you would.”

“Guys,” Sam tries to placate, “we should all calm down and rethink how to handle it safely. It's not a good time for some jilted lovers tiff”, he begs.

Dean frowns then makes mocking faces at him to communicate that he's being a fucking douche.

“You're a fucking jilted lovers tiff,” he decides.

“We had sex, Dean,” Castiel states accusatorily.

Little does he know, he just broke Sam beyond repair. Now that the cat is out of the bag, the only thing Dean can do is to straighten some things out.

“Once,” he says, raising a finger to accentuate his point. “Cas was sure we were gonna die in the morning. We didn't, but there never was a follow up on that, so,” Dean shrugs.

“You weren't interested.”

“Says you,” Dean huffs. “I’m sorry, do you know me? Being interested in sex is in my top five pasttimes. You behaved like a brick on the other hand and I don’t know how to read concrete.”

“I don’t want to be here, good fucking God,” Sam finally yelps after a successful reboot of his brain.

Dean’s pretty sure nobody wants to be in this car right now and the only goddamn thing that could potentially make him ‘special’ right now is the fact currently Sam’s probably the only person in the Impala who has not lain his mouth on Cas’s dick. Hopefully.

Funnily enough, Cas could easily poof out without lethal injuries, but he’s dead set on staying, judging from the frown on his face that looks like a stock market crash diagram.

“I didn’t exactly see you giving me any signs.”

And set on having this conversation.

“I’m not a cat, I don’t go into heats, Cas. Can we talk about it somewhere more private? Later? Cuz everybody here wants to fucking die right now.”

“Private?” Cas asks. “If you want privacy to talk then why do you refuse to book a room with me?”

“We don’t need to share a room to have a conversation. Unless what you want it to end with is getting back on track with that last night on Earth thing we had that one time.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam cries.

“Grow up and stow your crap, Sam,” Cas says unexpectedly before Dean could even bother to serve anything in a similar note.

Dean is so thrown off his equilibrium by that he puts the car to an abrupt halt. Only because he’s too deeply wired to not crash the Impala into the first available so he won’t accidentally kill Sam.

That is, if Cas’s words haven’t obliterated him already. He glances at him, just in case. Speechless as holily commanded by the celestial – potentially horny – wrath from the back seat, but at least he’s still breathing.

“Um,” he says, because someone’s gotta, because he’s still the big brother in this demented equation. “Cas, what the fuck was that?”

“Should you, of all people, really need me to be this blunt – now that the worst affairs have been settled, we could pick up where we left off, and hopefully reach a mutual understanding regarding the nature of our relationship so that doubt no longer hinders you. If it’s still something that interests you, of course. Would that be clear and direct enough, Dean?”

Well, that was… long? Long enough citations are probably needed, but, uh, yeah. S’ gotta be addressed immediately or else.

“Cas, that was 2010 and we have 2012 now.”

“It was 2012 when you prayed to me in Purgatory and it was 2012 four days ago. Granted, your feelings towards me might be very complicated, but I still can sense and read your longing,” Cas says with a weary sigh.

“Stop smelling my longing,” Dean responds with a wearier one. “And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“But I should explain myself to you.”

“I’m real fed up with your explanations, you know that? And we don’t got time for that, either. We need to get to Lafayette because we got a case waiting to get solved.”

“It’s because he’s waiting there for you, isn’t it,” Cas says sadly; not a question. A statement.

Dean doesn’t need to respond. Doesn’t feel like it, too.

Yeah. It’s good to actually have someone waiting for you; someone there.

Maybe it’s not that complicated, after all. Maybe it doesn’t have to be.

Dean starts the car. He’s got a place to go to.

The sound apparently wakes Sam from his stupor. His bright idea of the day, he turns the radio on before the awkward silence can make the universe inside of the Impala collapse on itself and on all three of them. Too late for Dean to react now; might as well get a load of the weather report.

In the back seat, Cas flicks his wrist subtly and the monotone voice sharply cuts off into static for a moment and the frequency bar moves elsewhere on its’ – or rather, Cas’s – own.  Some solitary synthesiser-made sounds drop one after another like tiny steps and Dean realizes he definitely has heard this song before at some point in his life as eighties one hit wonders ain’t no strangers to him. Oh well. Might as well not get any of the wea—

Looking from a window above, it’s like a story of love… Can you hear me?

Is he fucking kidding?!

Came back only yesterday, I’m moving farther away.... Want you near me…

“Are you fucking kidding?” Dean cries out, incredulous.

Tries to turn the radio off but it just won’t die.

All I needed was the love you gave— “You want melodramatic? I’ll give you melodramatic.” —All I needed for another day — Dean reaches out for his phone and starts typing angrily — and all I ever knew, only you.

He puts on good ol’ Fish and hopes it’s gonna be louder than Cas’s synth-pop loving. And starts driving towards where he wants to be cause he’s tired of dancing.

[ronninoir]

Can I Steal You for a Second? CH1

Summary: Adrien is forced to participate in a new dating show, but becomes more excited when Ladybug says she'll participate as her civilian self. AKA: AU where Adrien doesn't know Marinette, the superheroes are 22 and Gabriel is mean and ruthless but not Hawkmoth.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Ladybug knew something was wrong with Chat the minute she stepped onto the rooftop where they had agreed to meet for patrol. He didn’t look up when she landed, even though she knew that he had heard her. She slowly walked towards him and decided that she wouldn’t push... for now. As she sat next to him, she began to count. By the time she reached 100, her patience had run thin and she was determined to break the silence.

 “Hey, Kitty, feline a little quiet tonight?” Although she despised his constant use of cat puns, she figured the use of one would help break him out of his stupor. She glanced at Chat, expecting a smile and a witty comeback to come from him, but instead she was treated to sad kitty eyes and a look that broke something inside of her. Her voice came out barely as a whisper, “Chat, what’s wrong?”

 Chat stared intently into Ladybug’s eyes. After a beat, he sighed. “It’s no big deal,” he shrugged it off, or tried to. But Ladybug was insistent. She locked eyes with him and scooted closer, and gave him a look saying that she didn’t believe him. He sighed before whispering, “Well, it actually is a big deal.” He took a breath, closed his eyes, and then continued on, “They—I—my father is forcing me to do something and I just—I just am not looking forward to going through with it.” Chat broke eye contact with Ladybug, but she moved her hand to his shoulder. He leaned into it absentmindedly.

 “Chat, you know you can tell me anything,” She said with a soft smile. They were partners after all. She would be there for him through anything.

 He slowly looked up at her again, this time the pain and hurt in his eyes evident. “Even... even if it reveals my identity?”

 Ladybug paused a little, processing that information. She knew that Chat was homeschooled and that she most likely didn’t know him in real life. But is she really ready to learn who her precious kitty is behind the mask? She’s loved Chat for 7 years (as more than friends for 5) so she knew deep down that his identity didn’t matter to her. The reason they hadn’t revealed themselves yet was because of Hawkmoth. He was just as strong as ever and the two superheroes needed to trust each other with everything, to a certain point. Safety is important when fighting someone like Hawkmoth. If one of them was captured... just the thought made Ladybug shiver and her heart strain. She couldn’t do that to her kitty.

But... if she knew his identity, she could help him through this... thing that he was going through. Truthfully, she was curious, both about his problem and his identity. She was Ladybug, and Ladybugs fixed problems, fought hard battles, and supported their team—their partner— through it all. There were many different times that during high school, Chat was all that kept her going, and she would love to return the favor.

 Slowly, the words came out of her mouth before she even realized it.

 “Yes, Chaton, even if it reveals your identity.” He looked at her stunned, before a genuine smile split across his face. That look made the potential problems worth it.

 “My father is forcing me to ‘branch out’ for the company and complete a publicity stunt. There is this reality show that is really popular in America that they are shooting a season of here in Paris. They want me to be the star, since my fans are numerous and should be a good starting point of a fanbase for the show.” Ladybug started a little upon hearing that Chat has fans outside of the suit. She had expected him to be normal, just like her. Her mind started racing, trying to figure out what he was going to say before he said it.

 Chat pauses and took a deep breath, looking extremely nervous about the next part of his explanation. He looked at her in a way that encouraged her line of thinking; she should know what he was talking about. Thinking that her brain must have shut down for some reason, she tilted her head slightly as she could feel her face scrunch in a half confused-half thinking face.

 “What show is it?” aiming for innocence even though her voice shook and so she didn’t sell it very well. The only thing she can think of is the new reality show that Gabriel Agreste (only the most talented fashion designer in Paris and a huge idol to Ladybug) is doing to promote his line. But that can’t be it... can it? She couldn’t remember the details of the show, except that it involved one boy and a lot of girls. In fact, if she remembered correctly, the boy was going to be Gabriel’s son, Adrien. He models sometimes and is very good-looking, but that can’t possibly be...

 Ladybug gasped a little and looked up at Chat, seeing him in a new light. She had admired his pictures for a long time and this cat-themed superhero sitting in front of her looked a whole lot like Adrien. If the hair was styled and his eyes were not of the cat variety.

“The show is called The Bachelor.” Chat continued on, not noticing the way that Ladybug was staring at him. “They take one guy and thirty girls and he takes them on dates and week by week has to narrow it down to just one girl that he loves and he is supposed to propose to that girl at the end of the show.” Chat explains with a slight rise to his voice. It’s as though he’s freaking out about the whole thing and is having trouble getting the words out. Of course, Ladybug realizes, that is exactly what he’s doing. He stares at her, trying to get a read on how she’s taking it all, and so Ladybug pastes on a smile and says the first thing that comes to mind.

 “You’re Adrien Agreste.” It didn’t come out as a scream, so Ladybug gave herself a mental pat-on-the-back for maintaining part of her composure.

 Chat nods and then gives a slight murmur of, “Plagg, claws in.” With a flash of green light, Adrien is sitting where Chat once was and a little black creature has flown into Ladybug’s face.

 “That didn’t take you long after he spelled it out for you. You’ve been working with this doofus for SEVEN WHOLE YEARS and yet you couldn’t spell it out?” The black kwami, who was super adorable, by the way, was flying around waving his little paws and getting all worked up. The whole thing, from Adrien being Chat and being chewed out by a kwami who was VERY different from Tikki, was just so absurd, she couldn’t help but laugh.

 “You must be Plagg!” Ladybug said between giggles as she guided Plagg to sit in her hands. “Tikki told me lots about you, but I didn’t know you’d be so feisty when I got to meet you.”

Plagg crossed his arms and gave her a disdainful look, “Well I haven’t had any cheese in a while and I get cranky when I’m hungry.” Ladybug laughed again as Adrien sputtered from where he sat. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were huge. Clearly, he didn’t think Plagg would be so mean to Ladybug when he first met her.

 “Plagg! I fed you right before we left!”

 But his comment wasn’t heard over Ladybug’s laughs as she rubbed Plagg’s belly and behind his ears. “Has the mean Adrien not given you any cheese lately?” Ladybug said in a joking voice. Plagg gave her some kitty eyes and shook his head woefully. “Well I’m sorry I don’t have any cheese on me, but I promise, I’ll always come stocked with cheese from now on.”

 Plagg flew up and gave Ladybug a look. He must have decided that she was trustworthy, because then he turned to Adrien and declared, “I like her. She cares about me and my cheese needs. You should be more like her.”

 Adrien blanched and Ladybug began laughing again. That seemed to shock Adrien back into the present and he quickly spat out, “Well, she’d be less willing to give you cheese if she had to put up with smelling like Camembert all of the time!” At that comment, Plagg stuck out his tongue at Adrien and then dove into his shirt pocket and out of sight.

 Ladybug was smiling like an idiot. Why hadn’t they revealed themselves earlier? This was a blast and Adrien was all Ladybug could have hoped for in a partner. Suddenly, the reason that he HAD revealed himself came back to her and her smile quickly faded.

 “So, you’re going to have to do this show.” Adrien looked up at her and his expression was wary again. “What are you going to have to do?”

 “I have to get to know a pool of 30 women and narrow down my choices until I find one that I can see myself spending the rest of my life with. My dad thinks that it is going to be good for the company if I do this. Plus, I think he wants me married off and this is a sure-fire way of doing it, at least in his mind.”

 That all made sense, but there was one big thing that had never seemed clear to her, “What does your dad gain from this show? How would a dating show help a fashion designer?”

 Adrien smiled a little at that. “It’s actually kind of brilliant. So, my dad is partially funding the show, so he has a lot of say in what happens. In the American version, they bring their own clothes and such and just go about the show. My father has decided that every girl will wear a Gabriel original, whether that’s formal wear, casual wear, even swimsuits, at all times during the filming. It’s virtually going to be an extended runway show. Everyone will tune in for the idea of watching me fall in love, but will actually fall in love with the fashion.”

 Ladybug had to give Gabriel some credit, that was a great marketing idea. Although at the expense of his son...

 “Does he really expect you to fall for the person you’re going to marry on this show? That seems a little crazy, and you’re only 22.”

 Adrien’s eyes dropped from Ladybug’s and his hand went up to rub the back of his neck. A slow blush began to cross his checks, and Ladybug hated to admit it, but he looked really cute like that. “I was furious when he told me, but he made me a promise. If I would go about the show, play through it like I’m supposed to, and stay engaged after the show for six-months, then I’m allowed to break it off and pursue someone on my own.”

 “Wouldn’t that leave a bad reputation for the show? Surely your father doesn’t want that.”

 “He doesn’t. But the American version very rarely comes up with successful relationships, so he’s willing to let the show end badly if it promotes Gabriel Fashions well enough.” Adrien shrugged and smiled. “As long as I get to make the decisions about my love life, I’ll be okay.”

 Ladybug smiled at that, but it began her mind whirring. What kind of Ladybug would she be if she let him go through with this. They were two halves of a whole, or at least that’s what Tikki kept telling her. She loved him as more than a friend and the thought of sitting back and watching him serial date girls made her stomach twist.

 “Are you actually going to try to date these girls? Like actually get to know them and what-not?”

 Adrien’s face twisted in thought, “Well, I’ve considered it, but I have a feeling that the girl I love won’t be playing with me. It’s a shame really. Especially since she has to stay here and protect Paris while I’m gone.” There was a twinkle in his eye that made Ladybug’s stomach flutter with butterflies—and the non-akuma kind at that. Chat had always flirted with Ladybug, but she never took him seriously even if she really really wanted it to be real.

 Suddenly, a thought, one so wild and out-there Tikki would never go for it, came. It was an idea that could actually work, if she played it right.

 A playful smirk grew on her face and her heart began to race. “What if she was?”

 His shocked expression was enough to make the shaming she was going to get from Tikki later worth it. “Would you really?” Then, after a beat, his face fell. “You can’t. You have to stay here and protect Paris. What if an akuma comes up? Who’s going to fight it?”

 “We are silly! You don’t expect me to be Ladybug and Chat Noir without my kitty, do you? The show is only shooting in Paris, right?” She thought she had heard that mentioned, but she wasn’t as invested when the topic first came up.

 The cogs were turning as he responded, “Yeah we are.”

 “Then that settles it. I’ll apply to be a contestant, you’ll escape away and help me fight akumas and possibly patrol once a week, and then we won’t have to stop being a team.” And I’ll have a chance to go on a proper date with you and we’ll fall in love and get married and have three kids and....

 Her thoughts were interrupted by a bone crushing hug from Adrien. “Thank you so much! It won’t be as bad with you there.” When they pulled away, the smile on Ladybug’s face wasn’t forced.

 “C’mon kitty, let’s start patrol.” She shot him a wink and stood. She gave him about 10 seconds to transform before she sprinted off into the night.

~~Let me know what you think! I’m excited to see where this goes

[fancifulwritings]

The Song Remains The Same

after quite a long time (i am so sorry this took so long to anyone that’s been following for a while) here’s chapter 17! i’ll probably start working on the next chapter almost right away, but i’m more than happy to have any recommendations/wants to write next, my ask box is always open!

A small panic fell upon the room. No one said anything, but they all knew the cause. The word, the simple word of problem, didn't sit well with anyone. Things had seemed to be going so well. What could this so called problem be? What had they done?

     One by one, they all looked at Jimmy. Those who had been together at that dinner, the one that seemed so long ago after the concert, knew he liked to push buttons. Bonzo might not have been there, but his head still turned. The dynamic between Robert and Jimmy wasn't lost to him. They fought like cats and dogs, like true brothers. It got on everyone's nerves back in the day. Even Jimmy, for a few moments, wondered if he was the one to blame. He didn't think he had overstepped, not yet at least.

     Calypso, of course, felt the most nervous. She was the less sure of this whole thing. Her footing into their world was weak. She might have been the once to cause this, but that didn't guarantee her a place. One word from Robert and she would be sent packing. An eternity, alone, stuck forever at twenty-one, with her so-called soulmate refusing anything to do with her? It sounded like hell. Her thoughts, after focusing on Jimmy causing this, naturally turned to herself.

     John Paul, like everyone else, thought it was Jimmy. It was where his thought stayed for the longest. But then they turned away from them. Perhaps this was no one's fault. Perhaps it was something to do with Robert. Had he not shared that their stay had a limit? Did he need a few moments to himself? John Paul understood why his house was so far out into the woods. Sometimes a man just needed his time to himself. Was that it? Or did Robert had prior arrangements he needed to uphold?

     The anxiety stayed over the room for a few seconds. Robert noticed this, watched everyone's eyes and heads shift to Jimmy. It was amusing to him. But he didn't let it sit longer for a moment. That felt a bit too cruel to do to them. He burst out laughing before he could talk, though. All of them were too easy to wind up, even all these years later.

     "They're not real problems, not problems like we used to have," he said with a roll of his eyes. A few more chuckles left his body before he could talk again. "Just a few things that need to be taken care of. Physical problems, not social ones, lads. You lot need to calm down just a little bit," he said.

     Once he finished speaking, silence again fell over them. They were waiting for him to announce what these problems were. They were all wracking their brains. No one could think of what was wrong. The few moments of silence, as Robert collected himself from his laughing fit, seemed to be a bit too much for some people.

     "Well, will you spit it out lad!" Bonzo roared with a smile. "I know we technically got forever and all, but I don't wanna sit here that long, waiting for you to find your words," he said. There was a clearly playful tone in his voice. It brought a smile to Calypso's face.

     There interactions seemed so lighthearted. Robert's own face had a smile growing, one that was different from his laughing. It was a fond smile, Calypso realized. He had waited years for this. Robert had gone years and years, likely praying for one more day with his best friend. How many times had Robert dreamed that Bonzo was alive again? It was touching. Calypso counted herself lucky that she got to see this wishes and dreams come true.

     "Well, first, you lot are disgusting. You're absolute pigs!" He said with a smirk. "And while this is partially about the dishes, don't think me and Calypso will be doing them all ourselves, it's actually about how much you eat. Though, Bonz, I do expect a thorough cleaning of your room before you leave, I remember what your hotel rooms looked like," he said. There was a twinkle in his eyes. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Robert had missed teasing his best friend.

     "And you haven't been eating a grossly inappropriate amount, especially for a bunch of twenty something year olds," he said. Calypso thought for a moment he was getting more comfortable with the whole situation. That was immensely good. It made her feel a bit more at east. "But I hadn't planned for," he paused to count them all off, "five guests plus me. I had just enough or about a week or so," he said.

     His thinking, then, was that it would be enough time to hide out. The people he interacted with on a normal weekly basis of course knew who he was. But they also didn't make a huge fanfare of who he was. The town, no doubt, would be swarmed with Zeppelin fans after the concert. People seeking out him or any of the other two. They would make a huge deal out of who he was. Robert was passed the age, at that point, of wanting people to make a deal out of who he was. So he had wanted to hide away for a week. But now that was all gone out of the window. He hadn't exactly planned for this.

     What was the problem with the food? None of them exactly got it. Surely they all had the funds to go out and get the food. Robert couldn't be that low on cash that he couldn't afford to eat. "Now, mate, you're not telling me you're broke, are ye? Because I think anyone of them," Bonzo pointed to everyone else, "can afford a bit of groceries."

     To that, Robert only tutted and shook his head. Surely everyone else would get it. But even Calypso wasn't piecing together what the food problem was. "Do I need to show everyone a mirror?" He asked with a sigh. "We can't exactly go out like this. Unless someone has enough cash to buy stock in a grocery market, I'm not exactly sure how we can go about getting food," he explained.

     Calypso realized he was right. The one thing that had her in constant awe, she had forgotten. Without any real interaction with the outside world, she had momentarily forgotten it wasn't 1970-something. It was easy to do, being surrounded by all their faces for only twenty-four hours.

     Robert very much was right. They would need a large amount of food, an insane amount so they could stay hidden for a little bit. Six months to feed on just strictly three meals a day was going to be a lot for anyone. Someone who hadn't prepared? Someone who couldn't exactly go out in public like they were? If anyone used their card, they could be found out immediately.    

     A card gave a name, and with the increasingly familiar face, the cashier was bond to recognize them. That was assuming that no one stopped them in the shop because how much they looked like whatever member of Led Zeppelin. The voice, the looks, the everything about them would give them away. There was only so much they could lie their way out of. They still held a bit of popularity. If they didn't, the reunion concert wouldn't have been a big deal, or a deal at all. If they didn't, Calypso never would have fallen in love with the band.

     "I can do it," Maureen piped up after a moment. They all turned to her, a bit confused. How could she do it? To that, she just laughed a bit. "No one knows what I look like, who I am. No one's gonna think twice about me. I might be young again, but I wasn't the famous one, remember?" She said with a grin. "And I think I've got more than enough money in my bank account to cover it. Well, John does, but you all know it's the same difference," she said with yet another laugh.

     In that moment, it was pretty easy to see that Robert felt a fool. All of them did, Calypso included. After a few seconds, Robert busted out laughing. How could that be forgotten? He'd managed to project his problems onto everyone, and not everyone shared them.

     It wasn't like he had forgotten about Mo. If asked about it, he would defend himself. He knew she was here. It was more that he had simply forgotten she wasn't famous. Sure, she had been in that one scene in their movie, ages ago, and a few pictures here and there, but how many people really knew what she looked like? She was the only one in their little group with easy access to a bank account who wouldn't get caught.

     That didn't solve their next problem. As much as Robert would love for the answer to be Mo doing everything, it just wouldn't work. It also wouldn't be fair to her and Jonesy's bank account.

     "The other little problem is a little less life or death, but it'll certainly need to be solved," he said. "None of us have proper clothing. I feel like I'm drowning in my old man's suit whenever I get dressed. And poor Bonz doesn't anything besides what's literally on his back," he paused to chuckle, "it might look like 1973, but we can't wear the same outfit for days on end anymore. He'll reek."

     This was not a problem that had occurred to Calypso. It wasn't even really a problem, more a dilemma they needed to fix. The food issue had been somewhere in the back of her mind. After all, Robert had mentioned last night he didn't have enough food for all of them. The fridge and cupboards were becoming more and more bare as she watched him cook.

     Eventually, she would have voiced her concern about the food to Robert. But he had beat her too it, before it was a truly pressing matter, so she didn't have to think about that. Having four full grown men in a house without food and those same four fully grown men couldn't leave sounded like something out of a nightmare.

     Clothing wasn't something that would have ever crossed her mind. It simply wasn't a problem. She'd packed as much clothing as she could fit into her luggage. Whenever she ran out, she could have just laundry. The rest of them didn't have that sort of luxury. Their clothes didn't fit them anyone. Bonzo had it the worst with the one singular suit he wore that was obviously just a bit too big for him. It had been fitted for a much larger Bonzo.

     Calypso glanced around the table and the clothing issue become more apparent the more she focused on it. Robert sat adjusting himself, no longer comfortable in the casual outfit he had on. With the long curls that cascaded to almost halfway down his back, the button up and slacks combo he had on looked out of place. Once again, he embodied a 1970s rock star but his clothes suggested retired dad.

     Jimmy looked just as equally out of place and simply wrong as Robert did. He'd always been the skinniest out of the band, even now. But the clothes he was currently in ate his small frame. It was almost like his clothes were swallowing him up until nothing was left. The silver locks were gone, placed by his dark mop of hair, and it a startling difference for Calypso.

     Jonesy didn't appear too out of place. His clothes were too big for him, just like the rest of them. But, as far as Calypso was concerned, he'd always dressed rather normally. His build and hairstyle could easily just be a normal, everyday. It was part of the reason he had been able to blend in with a crowd and escape back in the day.

     "I don't need any clothing," Jimmy said after a moment of silence.

     Bonzo scoffed at that idea. "What? You just gonna deal with what ya got until we all see your ass?"

     That was met with an eye roll from Jimmy, barely noticeable underneath his wild fringe. "No, I still have most my stuff from back in the day. It should all fit just fine now. No need to give you the privilege of my bum." Jimmy chuckled as he spoke. "That is, whatever didn't end up in museums or archives."

     That struck Calypso as a bit odd. Why would he bother keeping all of that? It wasn't like he thought he should keep it around so that if he lost the weight he could wear it again. No old man could want to wear his clothing from the 70s, could he? Especially one that probably hadn't taken the best care of himself. What condition would the clothes even be in?

     As Calypso mulled over her thoughts, something clicked inside of Robert. None of the rest of them had kept their clothes. That was what normal people did. Got rid of their clothes as the fashion changed drastically and they out grew things. There was only one answer.

     "You little slimy bastard, you were always ready for this to-" He began, anger apparent in his voice, before he was cut off.

     "Boys, let's not fight right now. We've done enough of that, I think," Maureen said quickly. "It doesn't matter why Jimmy doesn't need anything. Just count it a blessing none of us will witness his bum." She gave a cutting glance to Robert, almost daring him to challenger her.

     "Alright, well, that settles one out of four of us," Robert said. His voice gave away his clear annoyance. "One or two of us might be able to sneak out, but not all of us. That's asking to be recognized, no matter how good we disguise ourselves." At that, Calypso couldn't help but chuckle. How exactly could any of them disguise themselves?

     After a moment, Jonesy spoke up. "I can go for myself and Bonzo," he said. Robert cocked his head a bit quizzically at the statement, as did Calypso. There was something so sure in his statement, in his voice.

     "It's not the first time I've done it," he said with a laugh. The statement might have been meant as clarification, but it didn't seem to clarify anything, at least for Calypso. Robert's head remained cocked as well.

     "Someone, back in the day, liked to under-pack for tours. It was a chronic condition," Jonesy said as he shot a look toward Bonzo. "Whatcha pack for that one American tour? Two briefs, a singular sweater, and maybe three pairs of shorts?"

     "And what was on me back!" Bonzo pointed out.

     "Yes, yes, of course. How could I forget that important detail?" Jonesy asked with a playful smile painted on his face.

     "Not everyone loved life on the road, you know. I had a family!" He replied, seemingly in defense of himself. This apparently was an age old fight, though maybe not started by the issue of clothing.

     Robert rolled his eyes at the comment. "We all had families, my boy, that is besides Jimmy." Bonzo turned a bit red, but didn't bother to respond with anything. It was obvious that this fight was one they had time and time again, and had been settled long before Calypso had come along.

     "But, either way, John Paul will go clothes shopping like the old days," Robert said with a smile. The feeling in the room lightened a little bit at that.

     "Well, I think you should obviously go, Robert," Calypso piped up after another moment. In her mind, who else could go for him? He was too tall for Jonesy to be able to accurately judge what size he might need.

Jonesy and Bonzo had an almost similar sense of style, or Bonzo just put up with Jonesy's clothing choices. That alone told her that Jonesy didn't have practice buying for Robert as well. Robert seemed a bit pickier than that. And Jimmy seemed to have checked out about the clothing problem, not wanting a thing to do with it. He'd probably shame them all for not simply keeping their clothes.

Once it was out of her mouth, though, she regretted it. Everyone turned to look at her. It was as if they had forgotten she was there. Which, she couldn't fully blame them for. That wasn't the reason for her regret, though. With everyone leaving the house, she'd be left with Bonzo and Jimmy.

It wasn't like she didn't like either man. It would just, it was an uncomfortable thought. She didn't know them too well. Bonzo had literally just come back from the dead. If she stayed… She'd feel like she was getting in the way of a long overdue reunion rather than bonding with people she'd be trapped with.

"Well, I suppose you're right on that," Robert said as he looked at her with a smile. "But," he began as he put a hand on her thigh, "I'll only go if you agree to go with me. A pretty girl like you will distract the paparazzi from an old man like me." He had a toothy grin on his face that she couldn't say no to, one that showed off his missing tooth.

Her gut told her to say no. Calypso could already tell exactly what Robert was thinking about. It was a ploy for him to buy her more clothing. That was something that made her a bit uncomfortable. Having things paid for by other people just wasn't something she was used to. Could she really manage to get the word no out of her mouth, though?

"Well, of course I'll go," she said with a bright smile. Her face didn't show a single sign of her internal fight. She'd regret it later, give the look he gave her, but now wasn't the time to worry.

[dopescotlandwarrior]

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 14

Previous Chapters on AO3      A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Chapter Fourteen

Notes:

Wikipedia has the following dollar equivalents from 1882 to 2018 $400,000.00 = 9.8 Million $  50,000.00 = 1.2 Million $  20,000.00 = $492,000.00 $    3,000.00 = $  73,854.00 $    2,000.00 = $  49,000.00

Chapter Text

Ben’s face was a stone mask as he watched Jacob Beringer play with a grape from the cluster he was given. He had yet to test the sugars. Smell it, or pop it in his mouth. Why was he stalling and where was Frederick on such an important day? Ben was through wasting his time.

“You boys let me know if you want any of the whites. I’ll check back sometime tomorrow.”

Jacob looked terribly conflicted, and with good reason, Ben decided. They would pay so much for the grapes this year it would be a struggle to keep the doors open, don’t buy the grapes and there was no reason to keep the doors open.

“If you’re feeling all hope is lost, it isn’t, you have me, and I have grapes. You and your brother are master vintners and you make the best table wine in America. That gift will roll fortunes out of this place year after year for generations.” Ben pointed at the cluster. “This grower has done everything right and he has over 300 acres of vines that are immune to the blight. He knows the cash value of his crop so when you go around me and offer twenty percent over last year he will respectfully decline and I will have sold everything to Mondavi, including first right of refusal on the Zin and deep reds. Anyway, I’ll stop by in a day or two. Have a good day Jacob.”

Ben left the befuddled vintner behind and claimed his horse from the stable hand. His feet were not even in stirrups before Jacob ran up to him and committed to purchasing the crop, the entire 300 acres of grapes. He wrote a hasty promissory note and handed it to Ben.

Ben wrote in the price per ton for each variety and an estimate of the number of tons. His heart rammed so hard in his chest he thought he would fall off his horse from a heart attack. He prayed it would wait until he had Jamie’s money secured.

“You can take possession of the whites when the money is transferred in the morning. See ya, Jacob.”

Ben hardly gave his horse time to warm up before he spurred him to the vineyard. He knew the Beringer family back in Germany had the resources to help the brothers financially so he pressed for the highest price and had the upper hand throughout. Jamie’s yield was down thirty percent he estimated, maybe more, so Ben set the price high and the Frasers were now very rich. Ben turned off the road and headed for the vineyard, the location for which was still unknown to the other growers and wineries. The irregular terrain was a pain to ride and he wondered about building a road, it would make life easier for them.

Jamie and Claire sat opposite Ben on the porch and tried to be calm waiting for Ben to share his news. Ben looked closely at the couple, thinking they looked better than he could ever remember seeing them. Farming must agree with them, he thought.

“Jamie, this is just an estimate but it looks like the yield is down about thirty percent, due to shock after the transplanting no doubt. That is unfortunate for a miracle year like this, the miracle being you are one of the few growers with grapes. So I pushed the Beringers for the highest price and they gave it. They bought it all.” Ben was smiling and could not understand the silence of the couple staring back at him. “Oh! Sorry. They paid four-hundred for the three hundred acres.” Silence. “Four-hundred thousand dollars.”

The blood drained out of Jamie’s face, “good Lord,” he mumbled, standing up and looking out at the vineyard. He sat down and leaned toward Ben. “Four-hundred thousand dollars Ben?” Jamie shot to his feet like there was a wasp under his butt. He took a step toward the vines and sat down again. “We havna picked them all yet.”

Ben went from smiling to laughing at the expression on Jamie’s face as he tried to wrap his brain around the fortune they just made. “Well, the Beringer brother’s just bought every grape on your vines so baring a tornado that uproots them all, or you oversleeping when the sugars rise, you are a very rich man, son.” Ben laughed and looked at Claire who was watching two butterflies and smiling. She was obviously not plugged into the conversation. “Claire, do you have any questions?” She turned her bright smiling face to Ben and shook her head no.

Claire’s mind was busy making tiny clothes and booties, painting the nursery and replacing the furniture, having dresses made for her expanding waistline. When Ben called her attention back to the meeting she felt she missed something important. Looking at Jamie it was confirmed, something big just happened and she could not tell if it was good or bad based on her husband’s weird face. She would find out when they were alone and went back to looking at the butterflies.

“Looks like your crew has things well in hand. I want to talk to you about getting a personal banker. Someone discreet that can handle your money transfers and help you invest. Have you seen that new bank in town? I think they are open, maybe we should take a ride over there and meet with the manager.”

Jamie stood up shaking his head yes and walked off the porch leaving Ben with the distracted Claire. A minute later Jamie ran back and pulled Claire to her feet asking Ben to give him a minute as he walked her inside. What Jamie needed was a quiet room in which to yell like a banshee and jump on furniture until he calmed down. Instead, he appealed to his wife to rest.

“Sassenach, I have to ask ye somethin…” he licked his lips nervously and looked at the floor. “I didna know ye were pregnant last night and I’m sorry for that. Did it hurt the baby, what I did to ye?”

Focusing on his tortured face she touched his cheek, “of course not Jamie. Please don’t worry about me or the baby. There will come a time when we will be…less energetic, but that is sometime in the future.” She kissed him.

“Please rest Sassenach, or I’ll get Fergus to watch ye and ye’ll force sleep so ye dinna have to listen to him anymore.” He wrapped her in his arms and hugged her. “I’ll be with Ben in town, tryin to find a bank big enough to hold all our money.” He chuckled and let his wife go.

As the door closed behind him Claire turned and asked, “what money?”

Lester Fordham sat behind his desk in the empty bank that he managed. He was the seventh male son to be born to Wilma and Charles Fordham and life had been challenging for the youngest son of six successful older brothers. His own mother would sometimes stare at him a full minute before remembering his name. Lester sailed for America to start a life without the shadow of his brothers and was hired by the bank because of his gift with numbers. When they gave him the new bank of St. Helena, they had not considered his absolute lack of personality or charm that would be required to entice new accounts. Try as he might, his nervous disposition and stuttering under pressure kept his bank empty. His stomach was in knots, and his nights were tortured with dreams of returning to England a failure. He saw men approaching the bank and took a deep breath.

“Welcome to Bank of St. Helena, gentlemen. How may I be of service today?”

The two men were conversing quietly and looked up as if startled they were being addressed. One man held a hand out to Lester and introduced them both.

“Good day to ye, sir. I am James Fraser and this is Ben Yountz. We are here to discuss moving my account.”

The men looked around at the empty bank thinking they would be first customers and accepted the seats that were offered. The pleasantries being rather stilted, Jamie explained the size of wire transfer that was coming the next day and asked Lester what ideas he had for investing.

“F…Fff…ffour…well now, that is a lot of money. The pitch of Lester’s voice climbed as he talked about the account types they offered and the benefits of each and he was clearly struggling through the conversation. Once he pulled out his personal notes on the different investments he followed his tone came down, his confidence soared, and he dazzled the men with his knowledge of the stock market, bonds, land investments, and industry. He talked and the men listened thinking they had judged the man harshly at first. The arrangements were made to pull Jamie’s accounts to the new bank and accept the transfer of four hundred thousand dollars in the morning. The men stood and shook hands. Lester walked around his desk and was jerked back when his suit coat pocket got caught on the handle of his desk drawer. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose and decided not to speak and ruin the momentum he had gained. His smile showed the large gap in his front teeth but he stuck out his hand and the men shook it.

Later, when Lester stopped shaking, he brought back the meeting with the men and ran through the empty lobby then clicked his heels. He just made his deposit quota for the next two years and Mister Fraser wanted investment ideas. Lester ran to his desk and turned his lamp up where he would bend over his figures until dawn.

Not far away, on a private vineyard, Jamie also burned the midnight oil bent over his figures. He had a good feel for numbers and appreciated their straight forward answers. He had always used them for budgeting, to save what little money he had. This experience was the opposite as he decided how much he wanted to give away. In his steady hand, he listed all the names of people he wanted to pay. Ned, Ben, Cho, Rupert and Angus and each of the Highlanders. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long and physical day bringing the white grapes in and he was exhausted. He looked once more at his list; 43 Highlanders $2,000.00 Rupert $3,000.00 Angus $3,000.00 Cho $3,000.00 Ben $20,000.00 Ned $20,000.00 Fergus $1,000.00 trust, $.25 weekly Jenny-? Lamb-?

The pay would have to wait for another month to ensure the reds were brought in as promised but he felt good about how the money was divided. He heard Claire moving around in the next room and wanted to hold her more than take his next breath. He washed quietly and laid down, pulling her to him. She pressed her face into his neck and sighed contently making his heart hurt with all the love he had for her and his growing child.

Claire yawned and stretched like a contented cat and listened to the voices outside. Pulling her robe on she walked to Jamie’s desk where she heard him working late into the night. She looked at his list and smiled drawing a line through Lamb’s name and writing $50,000.00 next to Jenny’s. “That should do nicely,” she murmured before returning to her warm bed and husband.

Jamie was a nervous wreck waiting for Ben to bring his wagon and trusted team of horses. Moving large loads of grapes is what he did for many years and he put all his faith in his grape-horses. They were strong, and the rough terrain between the vineyard and the road would not be a problem. An empty wagon makes quite a racket so Jamie heard them coming and finally exhaled. The men made short work of transferring the grapes to the wagon and every eye watched the sky above for the signal. Jamie started pacing again while Ben laughed at him. Fergus sat on a barrel and stared at the sky in the direction of the bank.

“Milord, milord! Look! Fergus was ready to implode with excitement when he saw the colorful explosion above the bank. The signal the money was there. It drifted in the sky for almost a minute and the Highlanders threw a cheer in the air. Ben smiled knowingly at Jamie and nodded.

“Looks like it’s time to go fellas!” Ben urged the team forward and the horses pressed into the yokes with haunches bulging with muscle. “Put your backs into it boys!” Ben looked back at the wagon surrounded by Jamie’s men. They would help push when a wheel got stuck or the horses could not pull the wagon over the hills. It took Ben twenty minutes to drive the wagon into the vineyard and two hours to drive it out. They could see the road ahead and the men waiting for them. Six of the Highlanders were armed with pistols at their hip and they climbed aboard the wagon to ride the fruit to the Beringer winery. Jacobs men were also armed and rode alongside the fruit. Halfway there Ben laughed at nine armed men guarding a bunch of grapes. My how times have changed, he thought.

Misses Crook had a pig roasting over a fire along with a turkey and three pheasants. Fergus squatted next to them and licked his lips for the entire afternoon. Jamie pulled his sweet wife to their bed where she read for ten minutes before Jamie exclaimed the new book was fascinating and tossed it to the floor pulling his Sassenach into a cuddle position. She could not find comfort with her corset on and finally sat up causing Jamie’s eyes to slam open in a panic.

“Jamie, it’s not fair that you can sleep without a corset but I have to. It’s not possible!”

Jamie, trying not to smile, offered to assist the Sassenach and told her the story of Little Red Riding Hood as he unbuttoned her jacket and sleeves pulling it off of her. When he started on the laces the story was getting dark and creepy and his voice sent shivers up Claire’s spine. When the wolf was in the bed ready to eat the little girl he pulled the last of the laces slowly before letting the hateful garment fall to the ground. He pulled Claire back into the cuddle position and kissed her naked shoulder running his hand down her arm. He felt magic in the air as he touched her nipple with growing urgency in his groin.

“Well, how did she escape?”

“She didna, the wolf ate her.”

“Ah! That is a terrible story!”

Magic gone. Lesson learned.

It would be two more weeks for the Zinfandel grapes to ripen and a second perilous journey with the grape horses. Three times, the men had to push the wagon over the hills and Jamie was exhausted walking back to the vineyard. Ben had tried to convince him to build a road many times but Jamie placed too much value in their hidden location to risk it. Today, he overturned his decision and hoped something could be done before they had to move the reds, their biggest crop.

It was clear after a five-minute meeting, that between Jamie and the Highlanders not a soul knew anything about building a road. Fergus knew how to do it but no one would listen to him so he dragged the pitchfork out to the field and stabbed the ground repeatedly for as long as he could with the sun beating down on him. He laid in the tall, cool grass, and wiped the sweat from his face before an afternoon nap overcame him.

When Fergus next opened his eyes it was pitch dark and a cold breeze brought him fully awake. He shivered and tried to remember where he was and how to get back in the blackness of the moonless night. He started walking and the night grew colder. After an hour of stumbling around, he stopped and felt his tears falling. He spent many nights alone in the barn but always felt safe with the door bolted. Now he was out in the open and cried in earnest. He started walking again and thought he saw a light, far in the distance. It was swinging so someone was holding it. He shouted out and started running, tripping on the uneven terrain and panting for breath. He kept shouting but the light turned away from him and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He ran in the direction of the light, as fast as he could.

Jamie stood still and looked into the ink-black night. “Where are ye Fergus?” He turned around to go back and check-in with the men. He had been walking with the lamp for hours and saying every prayer he knew but the kid was just gone. He racked his brain trying to think what might have happened and the image of the lake made him shiver with dread. Hours earlier he found the raft still tied to the shore and wondered if Fergus was playing on them and fell into the water. Thinking about him on the bottom of that cold lake filled him with such sorrow he yelled the boy's name into the night and started walking again. He turned toward home and into the lit sphere of his lamp ran Fergus, right into his legs where he now had a death grip. The boy was speaking French and crying and it broke Jamie’s heart to see him so scared. He picked him up with one arm and walked him back to the house.

“Yer alright mac gradhach, I’ve got ye.”

Claire heard the back door open and ran to Jamie pulling Fergus into her arms. She fussed over him and told him they were so worried. Misses Crook laid cold meat and bread on a plate and warmed the rest of their milk. Jamie fired a shot into the air outside to let those that were still searching know to come in. Fergus spoke rapid French about building his road and the hot sun making him sleepy. Jamie translated as best he could, wanting to pull the kid into his arms and hold him until he stopped shaking. He couldn’t do that, to himself, or Fergus, it wasn’t done and Fergus would have to rally his own strength to stop shaking.

Fergus consumed as much food as a full-grown Highlander and Misses Crook laughed when he wanted more. He watched Jamie with round pale blue eyes that were fearful of reprimand. Claire washed his face and hands but Fergus’s gaze was stuck on Jamie and he still could not speak English. Jamie sat down next to the boy and measured his words carefully.

“So, ye decided to build my road did ye? A very big job it is and I’m grateful ye tried. How much did ye get done then?”

The rapid French explanation made it clear the ground was too hard and he failed.

“Yer heart was in the right place Fergus and I canna fault ye for bein overcome by the heat. I appreciate what ye tried to do for me and I’m happy yer safe and back home. If ye promise to let me know when yer leavin in the future, I’ll be happy.”

Fergus gave his promise and hugged Jamie’s arm fiercely. Misses Crook led the boy to his room for a good night’s sleep. Jamie hugged his wife with a look of wonder on his face. Somehow that little thief had wormed his way deep into his heart and his affection for him made him feel like a father. He walked a bit taller as he climbed the stairs to bed.

Fergus took a fair amount of Highlander ‘welcome home’ the next morning. He ate three bowls of porridge and nodded at the jeering. When he could break away he spent time in his room, making his bed and straightening the curtains as Misses Crook did. His few possessions were put away into drawers and he sat on his bed, not wanting to leave the comfort of his room. The time spent with Jamie and Claire had erased his nightmares about France and trying to survive, but last night brought it all back and he felt afraid.

Jamie noticed his pint-sized assistant was absent this morning when he took the Brix ratings. He went on with his day pulling the dead white grapevines from the earth with the help of the Highlanders. It was a part of life, he told himself, the weak succumb and the strong survive. It still bothered him that once healthy plants were ripped out of the earth because a millionaire from London decided to take even more from other people. That thought led to Frank Randall, another taker, and soon Jamie had a good head of steam built up and needed to hit something. Once the vines had been inspected he decided a break was in order and found Rupert and Angus to row over to the other shore to inspect what was left after Randall senior vacated.

Jamie asked Misses Crook where Fergus was and she pointed up indicating his room. Jamie wasn’t expecting that and he kissed his lovely wife on his way upstairs. He knocked on the door and Fergus pulled it open looking up with a bright face.

“We’re goin to the other shore to check the property, c’mon.”

“I will wait here milord, in case I am needed.”

“The Highlanders are here and I’m takin only a few men, what happens if we need something on the other side?”

Fergus looked in his room, conflicted with a fun ride on the raft versus staying to protect his room. Jamie started to understand what was eating at the boy and searched his mind for a solution.

“Would ye come if I put her name on the door? I’ll be right back.” Jamie used a bit of putty to stick a note on the door that said “Fergus’s Room.” Shoes were grabbed and the door slammed behind him as Fergus ran to take his place on the raft.

Jamie walked through the old property a bundle of emotions and memories. Seeing it again made him feel lonely for some reason. He recalled standing outside, starved half to death and Claire coaxing him into the house to eat. It seemed like another lifetime. The loneliness just got worse when he walked through the house. Looking at their bedroom he remembered the night they wed. This house needed a family he decided and the vineyard needed healthy plants to support that family. That was the problem. The entire place seemed dead and that filled him with sadness.

“Milord! You must come and see I found all the chickens!” Jamie joined Fergus downstairs and was led to a side yard where Angus was trying to catch the chickens and drop them into a moving sack. They caught five more and left for the rafts. Fergus ran up behind them holding a large sack of chicken food.

“Ye have a good heart, Fergus.” Jamie took the sack from the boy and smiled at him.

Jamie spent thirty minutes telling Claire about the road and complaining there wasn’t a man among them with any knowledge on the subject. He worried they would not get the reds to the road without physically carrying them on their backs.

“Jamie darling, isn’t there someone who does that around here?”

Jamie stopped pacing and looked at the one he loved with confusion. “What?”

“Someone in these parts must do that kind of thing when people need to clear land, right?” She yawned deeply fighting her fatigue to discuss the matter with him. Jamie ran to her and apologized for keeping her up. He pulled her down on the bed and spooned her. “I forgot for a moment that ye were so smart. Thank ye Sassenach.”

Jamie found a man in the area that had an ox and would level his road right away. Luckily, the need for leveling land dropped off sharply after the growing season so they had all of his attention right away. Fergus would sit and watch the huge ox drag the ploughshare and harrow back and forth while the man walked behind holding the sharp blade straight as it cut into the earth. After twelve days there was a smooth and level surface from the vineyard to the road.

As the last of the harvest approached, Jamie was tortured by fear of missing the Brix number for any number of reasons that might lay waste to the grapes and his promise to the brothers. He slept less and less making Claire worry for him. She tried seduction, late-night snacks, and rubbing his feet, but nothing worked. He would close his eyes for an hour or so, then he was up for the night. He became short-tempered and uncharacteristically emotional when she talked about the baby. Fergus was the only one brave enough to jump into it with Jamie, whatever “it” was. On every trip to town, for supplies, banking, or the post, Jamie would purchase another hydrometer, just in case. Fergus would take it to the supply barn and add it to the growing collection.

Fergus got behind Jamie and pushed him toward the hills at daybreak to test the red grapes, earning himself a growl and a stern look. Undaunted he continued to poke Jamie to keep him awake. Finally, Jamie gave a shout and dropped the hydrometer smashing it to pieces. “Christ! Fergus run back and get another, hurry!” Another hydrometer was pressed into Jamie’s hand. “I have two pockets, milord.” They ran through the hills testing grapes until Jamie was sure.

“Go lad, ring the bell with all yer might. Tell the men to start in the front and work back. Go Fergus!”

Jamie tried to think of what was next. His mind was so befuddled with fatigue he couldn’t remember. He saw the men running toward him with their hook tools and was overcome with a need to find Claire. He walked out of the vineyard like a sleepwalker, into the house, and laid down, holding his wife. Claire felt Jaime around her and heard the yelling outside. She had been so worried about Jamie who was now sleeping soundly behind her. She pushed the quilt away and got up quietly, pulling her riding clothes on and slipping out the door. She walked outside just as men were running back to dump their bags. They bunched up looking for Jamie to bring the containers and Claire knew precious time was wasting. She ordered the men to dump their grapes on the ground, in a common pile and sent them back. She held her position and watched the pile grow and another start next to it. She knew only that Jamie had to stay asleep and the men had to dump their bags and get right back to the vines.

Ben rode in and put his horse up quickly, he followed Fergus to the equipment barn to start grabbing containers. Fergus ran into the vineyard with empty containers and they were filled immediately. He ran back for another, and another, and another, all day long.

Misses Crook let Claire know she did not approve of her working the harvest like a man and with her nose in the air reminded her charge she was a lady who should get out of the sun. Claire barely heard her but answered she would take shelter when the work was done. It was very hot and the men were dripping wet when they came to dump their bags. Claire pumped water into buckets and kept them full, encouraging the men to drink. When Misses Crook rang the bell for the mid-day meal the men came running, exhausted, starving, and thirsty.

Fergus held the doorknob to milord’s room willing himself to knock loud enough to wake him. He had been there thirty minutes, at war with his instincts to wake him and milady telling him not to. He started kicking the door, hard enough to be heard on the inside. After five kicks he ran for the banister and slid down it to safety just as the door was opening. Fergus ran as fast as he could, deep into the vineyard and crouched under a vine with his hook. He watched the house for milord to exit and was happy to see him walking toward milady.

Jamie shook the cobwebs from his brain and walked quickly toward Claire. In the distance, he could see the bottleneck starting from full containers blocking passage for the empty ones and realized it would all come to a halt soon. He started running for them and Fergus exhaled in relief.

Jamie pulled four men from the vines and together they pulled the loaded containers to the front to be loaded onto Ben’s wagon. It was a hot day and the work had all the man covered in sweat. When the cool winds blew through the vineyard, they all felt it and looked up at the gathering black clouds in the distance. Jamie looked around for Ben and ran to him asking about what the rain would do to their efforts.

“Well, if no one minds getting wet, it will be a blessing. Take the sun away and the plants take a rest, stabilize the Brix. It’s a good thing.” he said laughing.

Jamie was happy to hear the Brix would rest but his concern was for the road and getting their heavy load safely away. Jamie told the men to double their speed and pulled two more men to help clear the full containers. With full belly’s and the cool breeze, the men had to dig down for the reserve energy to give Jamie what he called for. The dark clouds hung low with their load of rain and Jamie prayed it would hold off just a little longer.

Ben and his men loaded the wagon and hitched the grape horses to it. Jamie told him to go and ordered the six men with pistols to go with him. The road was a pleasure, mostly to the horses who easily pulled the wagon to the road and then to the winery.

Claire felt the tension in the men and saw Jamie’s frenetic pace. She felt as able as anyone to help and pushed her sleeves up. When Jamie saw her lifting cluster bundles into the empty wagon he almost fainted. “Jesus, Sassenach, no.”

He ran for her, twenty acres away his legs burned and he kept running, bursting out of the vineyard right in front of her. He was panting for breath when he took the load from her and walked her to the house.

“Jamie, I can help. It seems the rain is threatening and I will do my part,” she walked off the porch and felt her feet leave the earth when Jamie pulled her inside and up the stairs.

“Sassenach, I nearly had a heart attack seeing you lift the berries into the wagon. If yer intention is to kill the husband who loves ye dearly then by all means, keep doin it.” He was pacing in front of her running a hand through his hair.

Claire stopped his pacing and smiled up at him. “I understand, and I love you more for wanting to protect me. Even though I am strong enough to help, I promise not to lift another thing. I hear men whistling frantically. I gave you my promise, now go, they need you.”

Jamie ran out of the house and stopped dead when he felt the rain. It was coming down like a spring shower so he could still see the vineyard. Like in slow motion he watched the ten containers being dragged in, filled with grapes. Ben was at the wagon heaving massive piles of grapes from the incoming containers. Grapes were transferred and the rain continued. Jamie jumped into the box seat with Ben and the Highlanders walked with the wagon. The rain decided to show the power of mother nature and shook the earth with powerful thunder and lightning. Ben encouraged the horses to walk faster, watching the sides of the new road fall away into puddles below.

The Highlanders gathered behind the wagon and pushed, lending support to the horses. The rain was too heavy to see very far ahead and Jamie prayed they were close. It was another thirty minutes of holding his breath and praying before Ben shouted the road was ahead. The six pistol bearing Highlanders jumped into the wagon and Jamie shook his head no at Ben, he wasn’t getting off. Ben snapped his whip in the air and the exhausted grape horses pushed into their yokes.

When the wagon pulled into the winery Jamie was completely done in. Ben pulled him into the winery where he was immediately brought back by the smell. Tangy, sweet, a delight to his nose. His eyes opened and he looked around at the facility in awe. Jacob looked at him and decided a tip of Merlot is what he needed. Jacob poured and instructed Jamie on the correct hand placement around the glass, swirl the wine with a bit of energy so it would splash against the glass, “only with the reds because the wine needs oxygen”, Jamie rolled the wine in his mouth as instructed, and swallowed. When he opened his eyes, he was a changed man. He ran to the grapes being carried in and put one in his mouth. He was astonished the grape he ate would make the wine he just drank.

Ben looked at Jamie’s face, “uh oh, I need to get this man back to his farm before he begs ya to move in.”

Jacob was very pleased in the farmer’s reaction and bid them farewell. If he was going to lose his fortune to a grower, he was happy it was him.

Jamie insisted Ben keep going to his own home when the road turned into the vineyard. The Highlanders jumped out and started walking back. Jamie was happy for the rain in that moment because he could not stop the tears of relief and gratitude when he shook Ben’s hand and waved. It was over. They did it. As the rain came down in sheets and lightning crackled above him, he endeavored to put one foot in front of the other. He felt his energy drain from him and his muscles shook with effort. The weeks of sleepless nights and the physical brutality of the day was winning. Jamie wanted to feel Claire’s touch so badly but his feet would not move, he was stuck heaving for air. A small hand grabbed his and started pulling. Jamie pulled his hand away at the intrusion of his nap and the thing got behind him and pushed.

Fergus alternated between pulling and pushing while he dodged Jamie’s attempts to swat him away. All the way home Fergus drove his hero forward until they could hear Claire’s voice calling to Jamie.

“Go milord!”

Jamie looked up and saw the house, heard her voice, and felt so happy inside. He walked faster until he stumbled onto the porch and into her arms.

Jamie was washed and put to bed with a clean shirt. Misses Crook brought trays with soup and meat on the regular for the two days that Jamie slept and recuperated. Claire was his nurse and guard when the whistles came from outside. She dispatched the Highlanders to fix the problem like a general and not one man questioned her authority.

When Jamie emerged, he was fed and rested. Mostly he was happy deep down in his soul. Today was payday and time to say thank you to the crew of Highlanders who stayed with him this entire year, and two harvests. He could not wait. He rode into town and collected the forty-eight envelopes from Lester, giving him a heads up there may be a line of Scot’s to open new accounts later today.

The men lined up and Jamie passed out the envelopes saying thank you, my brothers, thank you. Eyes went wide as the bank draft was read and men threw their cheers into the soggy air. One man told Jamie he would return to his family in Scotland. His wife and three bairns were without a da for two years. Jamie handed the man cash for his passage and wished him well. It was a time of celebration and Jamie was never so happy as he was that day.

Jamie requested Angus and Rupert to hang back for their pay. He found them arguing at the lake trying to catch crayfish.

“Gentlemen, yer pay, and I hope ye put it in the bank before some pretty saloon lass talks ye out of it. And I hope ye’ll be staying on here for another year. We lost eleven men today, goin home to be with their families again. I need ye Highlanders.” He left them alone to see the bank drafts and realize with certainty how important they were to him. Jamie removed his boots outside and was intercepted by Claire before he made it to the kitchen.

“Oh no you don’t, you will not sneak up to our room to pass out. I have a special treat for you, Jamie.”

Claire pulled him into the bathroom off the kitchen where a tub was filled with hot water, his soap and cloth were perched on the side. He looked at her like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Remove your clothes and get into the water while it’s hot. Don’t look at me that way. People do it every day and it won’t hurt, I promise.”

She pulled his clothes off and pressed him into the tub with shockingly hot water. She pushed him down into the water and used the rag to wet his back and shoulders, neck and face. She went over the areas again when the cloth was full of soap. She pulled one arm out for washing and then the other. Pushing him back into the bath she almost laughed at the look on his face.

“Not since I was a weean in a bucket have I taken a bath Sassenach. He looked at her sitting near the tub. “It would be far better if ye took her jacket off.”

Claire looked down and released the buttons on her sleeves and front, pulling the jacket off. Her breasts sat up on the top of her corset hidden by her sheer shift.

Jamie smiled and let his body sink underwater. Claire came to the tub and soaped his hair while his hands were reaching behind her for the laces.

Through giggles, “Jamie, stop that and rinse your hair.” The corset had fallen to the floor before she pushed him underwater. He came up and latched onto her nipple causing more giggles and a stern admonishment. His deft hands pulled her skirt ties and she felt the heavy skirts moving away from her body. He was completely through with asking permission and pulled his wife into the bath pulling her sopping shift over her head and holding her close.

“This is the best surprise ever mo chridhe,” he whispered into her shivering neck. Several deep kisses and Jamie encouraging her heat and the bath was suddenly quite serious as they chased and drifted and kissed. When the water was getting cold Jamie bravely jumped out and wrapped a towel around his waist and came back with many towels and Claire’s special robe. In their room, he pulled the pins from her hair and told her a Scottish tale about a maiden’s love for an ogre in the woods who turned into a handsome prince when she kissed him. His hands through her hair and the shedding of her robe had pulled her into a love coma and they slept in their embrace.

Jamie woke in the early evening and slipped from their bed, dressing quickly. He had someone important to pay and thank. He searched the house for Fergus and found him at the lake with a pole in the water. The boy’s face beamed when he saw Jamie.

“I have somethin to say Fergus, about your behavior today.” Jamie waited to choose his words carefully. “I must thank ye for kickin my door this morning and gettin me up. He grabbed the boy before he could bolt. “I said thank ye. I know it was you and what ye did might have saved the harvest. Yes, it’s true. We just barely got the grapes out before the road fell apart. Ye saved at least an hour gettin me up when ye did. I canna hail ye a hero because the lady was in control at the time, I hope ye understand that. Second, pullin me home when I wanted to stay in the rain and sleep. It took courage to do what ye did and I’m grateful to ye.” He took an envelope from his pocket and gave it to the boy. “I will put this money in a trust account for ye every year ye work the harvest. I will also give ye twenty-five cents a week to spend in town however ye want.”

Jamie dropped the coins into Fergus’s hand and laughed at the expression on his face. The coins meaning so much more than the draft for one thousand dollars. I’m goin to town tomorrow so ye come with me and buy what ye want. There should be a book to read among yer treasures to make the lady happy. When Fergus ran to his room Jamie picked up the envelope that had been left where he sat.

Cho was found digging trenches in his growing garden to release the pooling water. He looked at the bank draft and bowed his thanks. Misses Crook looked at hers for one thousand dollars and nearly swooned. Each of the men received two thousand dollars for a year of hard work and loyalty. Angus and Rupert each received three thousand. Jamie would arrange to transfer twenty thousand to Ned and fifty thousand for Jenny. Jamie smiled at his thoughts of adding some splash to her receiving the news.

One month later, Jenny pushed the hair out of her face and went back to her canning. She saw some color out the corner of her eye and looked up at a line of people filing into her front yard. She wiped her hands and ran to the door. Outside, a new wagon, loaded with feed and lumbar was being pulled into the yard. A cow was tied to a post and thirty chickens were set loose. Two goats on leashes were tied up and more people came with gifts for her and the family, like a box full of wool socks for small feet with scarves and mittens for all. Jenny saw Ned and ran to him protesting this invasion.

Ned felt like the most fortunate man alive as he handed Jenny a picture of her brother, healthy and happy with his bride. Jenny’s knees buckled so she sat on the ground and stared at Jamie’s face. Ned helped her up as more people were coming in with gifts and whisky. Two men asked when they could come and build her new barn and she gaped at them like they were from Mars. Ned told them as soon as possible because Jamie supplied everything with Ned’s help.

Ian came running from the fields as did the housemaid and three barns that held onto their mother’s legs as they shook. Ned had been busy purchasing the animals and chickens from neighboring farms and the best was yet to come. When the family was seated around the dining room table Ned handed Jenny one hundred dollars in cash and saw her tears gush with relief. When he thought she could stand more good news he told her she had fifty thousand dollars in the Edinburgh bank whenever she needed more.

“A gift from the greatest man alive, your brother.” Ned struggled with his emotions remembering the night he said goodbye to Jamie. He looked around the room and saw Jamie as a boy always tagging after him and Brian.

Jenny clung to Ned and thanked him for letting her know he was alive. Ned thought with all the treasures she now owned the most important thing was that Jamie was alive. He would ride to Edinburgh and check on the twenty thousand dollars Jamie sent him. He shook his head and smiled.

[punkpoemprose]

Promise: A Kristanna Demigod AU

A sequel to THIS, blame Jess.

Universe: Demigod AU, Canon-divergent Word Count: 4280 Rating: T (Teen and up audiences), Naughtiness will come in the future I swear.

He’d arrived in December, as promised. It hadn’t been exactly a month since his last visit, it being a week before she’d thought to expect him. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been expecting him, however, as she hoped to see him every evening. She’d been only moderately disappointed every night since his visit that he hadn’t returned, but she had never lost hope, as the month wasn’t out, and she truly had expected him to arrive exactly a month to the day. He’d always been prompt in the past and she had no reason to expect and different with their new arrangement.

When he arrived, a bit earlier than expected, but still expected nevertheless, she had been in the midst of reading a riveting Penny Dreadful. She’s sent a stable boy to buy it for her a week earlier. A bookseller in the market had begun to carry them and they were all the rage in another kingdom across the sea, so naturally Anna had been curious overhearing Gerda, the head maid, bemoaning the younger staff’s ineptest in the “macabre smut”. She’d never read macabre smut before. She’d never read regular smut before. The palace library simply didn’t stock such things, and while she knew that she was welcome to go off into the market to buy things for herself, she didn’t much care for the idea of the bookseller, the entire market, and her guards knowing that she was buying such things. She thought maybe she could get out the door without the guards, but even the market knowing was perhaps a bit much.

As it was, she had gotten a bit better at speaking with some of the staff since she made the request. The word must have gotten around that the Princess had common taste because maids scattered less in her presence now than they had before. While it wasn’t enough to keep her from feeling lonely, it was certainly an improvement. She thought that maybe she might give the book, more of a pamphlet really, away when she finished it to garner a bit more approachability amongst the staff. After all, while there were very few of them, she was bound to find at least one person who might want to talk with her. It had been quite some time since she’d tried to get anyone to talk with her, many previous attempts had failed miserably, especially those that involved her sister.

When his knuckles had tapped against the glass of her balcony door, she’d jumped about a foot. The pamphlet landed somewhere in the unlit reaches of her large bedroom where she’d wait to fetch it until morning. Her heart raced when she’d done her best to complete the necessary mental gymnastics that took her from the “murderous creature of myth” to the “polite man of half-myth” who was standing out in the cold of her balcony.

Why he’d felt the need to knock was beyond her. As far as she was concerned, he was always welcome to simply walk in. The rational part of her brain reminded her that she probably would have been frightened had he done that too.

She opened the door for him and sighed when she saw his sheepish smile, which confirmed her theory that he’s seen her make a fool of herself through the glass door. She blushed when he walked through the door and began the familiar process of removing his winter-wear.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said as he draped his clothes over his arm and set aside his snowy boots, “My apologies Anna.”

She relaxed a bit as he spoke to her. His voice always reminded her of that of a poet she had heard as a child. Even speaking conversationally his voice held melody and song that she couldn’t match even in all of her years of music tutoring. His voice was the rising of the sun, slow, fluid, strong and sure. She’d never tire of hearing it, and she was certain that she’d never get over the way it made her feel warm all over to hear him say her name so reverently.

“Yes, well,” she began, still adjusting to the realization that he was there and that she was absolutely not dreaming, “don’t apologize, it was my fault anyway.”

He gave her an odd look, but didn’t question her, instead he pulled her to him and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I’m still sorry,” he said contritely before walking with her towards her small table where he placed his outerwear over the back of the second chair which over the years had become his.

“I’m sorry!” Anna said, realizing that despite the fact she had been expecting him, she hadn’t been expecting him tonight and had no idea what she should be doing with herself, “I wasn’t really prepared to entertain tonight. I have a tray of tea, but there’s just the one cup I’ve been using and I’m sure the pot is tepid now at best… of I don’t even know if you like tea! And what was I…”

“Anna,” Kristoff interrupted, his eyes smiling as she looked up into them, “You don’t need to entertain me. Being with you is entertainment enough.”

Anna flushed. He was teasing her! She thought for a moment about faking annoyance over it, making him beg her forgiveness, but instead she smiled, because she couldn’t help herself. He’d see straight through her anyway, of that she was certain.

“But yes,” he added, seemingly grateful that she’d chosen not to tell him off, “You and I had too many tea parties over the years for me not to like tea.”

She laughed at that.

“They didn’t really have tea though,” she said, thinking back to all the years that she’d served him cookies and candies and tarts she’d nicked from the kitchen on her toy china. She’d been too young to justify even being up at the hour he came at all, let alone to call for tea.

He chuckled in return and her heart fluttered in her chest. He reached out to her again, and she stepped happily into his open arms, wrapping her own around him, and feeling comfort in his embrace.

“When you were thirteen, we had tea,” he said, tucking his head down so that she was tight against his chest and he was speaking into her hair. It tickled her scalp a bit and Anna smiled even more broadly into the worn fabric of his shirt.

She could recall that night as well as she could recall anything. She’d held every memory she had of him close to her heart and while some memories had become fuzzy with time, this one was still somewhat solid and fresh in her mind. The most vivid bit was the image of him sipping on a cup of tea she’d made for him, and then watching him almost choke as she attempted to maintain his smile and choke it down.

“Oh yes we did,” she said with a groan, “and you nearly spat it out!”

He was holding back a laugh. She could hear it in his voice as he attempted to deny it.

“I did not.”

Anna with far less self-control, snorted. She could hardly be blamed; she really and truly was only human.

“You absolutely did! It must have been awful! I remember worrying for almost the whole year that you wouldn’t come back ever again because I couldn’t make a decent cup of tea. I had watched the maids and kitchen staff like hawks for weeks to get it right and I nearly killed you with it anyway.”

She was only half-joking. She had been anxious that whole year that he wouldn’t come back, but it had less to do with her fear that her tea making had turned him off, and everything to do with the fact that she’d barely any self-confidence at all then. She couldn’t imagine what he saw in her, and while she still questioned it somewhat now, she had the comfort of feeling his arms around her and knowing fully that he would never abandon her.

“It was just…” he sighed, and she could tell that he was debating whether he should say what was on his mind.

When he’d made up his mind, he shook his head and added, “There was so much sugar in it. It was fine! I like tea, I just wasn’t ready for it to be so sweet.”

She laughed at that and then laughed some more when he scooped her up and into his arms. She knew that he was taking her to her bed before they even got there. She liked this new sort of tradition they were making.

“I’m glad you find it funny,” he said looking entirely all too human in his regret, “I thought you’d hate me at the time. You’d done something so nice for me and then I could hardly swallow it.”

She reached a hand up to run her hand along his jaw and against his beard. It was a little shorter this time, as if maybe he’d shaved it to look more fashionable but hadn’t been able to rid himself of it entirely.

“You could have told me,” she said a bit sadly. It wouldn’t have really prevented her embarrassment at the time, but it would have allowed her a chance to fix her mistake.

“I would have fixed you another cup and let you add the sugar.”

He closed his eyes and leaned his face into her palm more fully, clearly enjoying her touch in a way that made her melt.

“I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.”

She just shook her head and relaxed. They’d been silly as kids. They still probably were, even now, but she knew that there were plenty of things that they could be that were worse than silly.

“Well I’m glad that we can both remember it so fondly now,” she said with a soft smile. He was arranging her in his lap, shifting around on the edge of the bed until he found a position that was comfortable. It was so strangely normal, as if they did this sort of thing every night, as if he wasn’t what he was, and as if she wasn’t who she was. It felt simple, it felt right. She felt like every other young woman in the city below, getting into bed with her sweetheart as they were their husbands.

Despite it being his first visit under their newly developed arrangement, despite the fact that she knew that she owed him a life debt that he could choose to exact in any way he chose, despite the fact that nothing about either of them was normal, it felt right. She felt as comfortable with him now as she always had when he’d come to her yearly. Even if she had no idea what she should be doing it felt right just to be held by him.

“What were you reading when I frightened you?” he asked casually after a few moments of companionable silence had passed. He settled upon shifting into the mattress proper with his back against the footboard and her head leaned against his chest. He’d cautiously started to braid her loose hair, and she was grateful for it as she hadn’t managed to get so far with it, only having brushed it before settling down to read.

“You’d laugh if I told you,” she said with a flush, focusing for the moment on how good it felt when his fingers brushed through her hair.

“Would you want me to?” he asked, turning her words from the month before around on her so instantly and instinctually that she couldn’t help but to smile.

“Yes, actually,” she said with a sigh, “One of the worst parts of living here is that no one ever laughs at me. Even when I do the most ridiculous things like trip over my own feet, no one laughs.”

He was smiling She couldn’t see it as he was behind her, but she could hear it in his voice when he said, “I wouldn’t laugh if you fell, but if I thought you wouldn’t mind I might have laughed a bit when you threw that book… Not that I did, but if you’d wanted me to, well I could have.”

She leaned forward slightly when he continued the braid lower down her neck and past her shoulders. It had grown much longer than she liked it to be, but to prolong the intimacy of him plaiting her hair, she was glad for it.

“You’re odd Kristoff,” she said with the sort of honesty she had never been able to have with any other person. “I feel as though I shouldn’t be giving you permission to laugh at me, but here we are. Laugh as you like.”

And so, he did. With a chuckle he ended her braid, twisting a bit of the tail around to stop it from falling out, though it was unlikely to stay for very long without being tied.

“I’m allowed a little oddness, I think. I was raised by trolls.”

She turned to look at him then. She found it so easy to forget at times that he wasn’t just a man from the mountains, but that he was caught up in the world of things that she could only dream of or read in stories.

“Ah!” he said before she could say a word to question or comment, “You still haven’t answered my question Anna.”

She blushed but climbed off his lap to fetch the answer over explaining. Best, she believed, he see for himself the sort of swill she’d been engaged in reading. She’d even admit, that despite her racing heart and immense feeling of terror, she’d been enjoying it.

As she walked away from him, she felt his eyes on her. She’d already grown comfortable with the sensation, as she found it a comfort to be watched by him at any and every possible moment. He’d been her protector in a single instance as a child but her friend ever since. Now he was something else entirely that they hadn’t given a name to beyond “beloved” and the unspoken whispers of “mine” that came clearly to her mind whenever she looked upon him. She wondered if maybe the same word was coming to his thoughts as he watched her.

She stepped off into the shadows of her bedroom, those far from the light of the fire and the lantern on the table by which she had been reading the thing. The floor was colder under her feet, and if it weren’t for his presence on her bed, she would have left the pamphlet there until morning. She was brave when it counted. Spiders didn’t scare her, she liked to ride her horse quickly on the occasions she could get outdoors, she was unafraid of storms and of most natural things including open water even though it had, by all accounts, taken her parents. She was even unafraid of the wood despite knowing she might have died there had it not been for Kristoff, but she was, evidently, terrified of scary stories and the dark after reading them.

She snatched the bound papers from the floor before her and scurried back into the lit portions of her room. Kristoff, still watching her closely was smirking, but said nothing. He looked as if he were going to laugh again, but despite her permission being given to do so mere moments ago, he’d evidently decided better of it and held it in.

She scurried back onto the bed, unafraid of making a fool of herself in front of him. Better, she thought, to be back into his arms as quickly as possible. He agreed with the thought if how quickly he pulled her back into his arms was any indication.

Once they were sufficiently situated, he took the book from her with a smile that she felt more than saw when his lips pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. She melted back into him, her back against him and his back against the footboard as if her quest across the room had never happened to begin with.

He held the thing in front of her, so his arms were on either side of her, and learned his chin against her shoulder to be close enough in the dim space to read it.

“A vampire story?” he asked, sounding more confused than he did teasing, “that’s what had you so frightened?”

Anna flushed, feeling a little foolish when he asked in such a way. She felt fairly justified in being spooked by such a thing. Admittedly she didn’t know very many people who ever left the castle walks, but she had imagined that something Gerda referred to as “macabre smut” would cause at least a slight fear response in the general public. Anna huffed and shifted out from his arms, deciding that she didn’t want to be held. She shifted around to face him, mentally preparing a speech on why exactly vampires were plenty terrifying, but the words died in her throat when she was his face.

He looked sullen to say the least. If Anna didn’t know better, she’d say he looked disappointed, but she did know at least enough to know that he wasn’t disappointed as much as he was concerned, and that was what really upset her. Kristoff thinking that she was an easily frightened young woman was on thing, seeing him concerned about it was quite another.

“Anna,” he said giving her a meaningful look that once again reminded her that for as human as he was with her, that as not even close to what he truly was, “Vampires aren’t real.”

She nodded. Of course, she knew that. She wasn’t a child.

His frown deepened and Anna was struck with the sensation that she’d done something wrong, or that there was something she should have realized sooner even though whatever it was, was something so had no understanding of in the slightest.

“Anna,” he repeated, sounding solemn, “Vampires don’t exist, but there are things that do that are worse. There are things that live in these lands…” he trailed off and sighed.

“Sometimes it’s easy for me to forget just how much you don’t know.

That scared her worse than any Penny Dreadful could, so when he set the thing aside on the bed and pulled her into his arms, closer, chest to chest and more intimately than he ever had before, it was only a small comfort. It was a small comfort that all but vanished when his hold on her tightened and he spoke again.

His voice was softer than it had been, but somehow twice as serious as he spoke next to her ear, “Don’t come to the mountains on the solstice, or at all after dark. Please.”

He was pleading when he said the last word and Anna froze against him. He sounded, beneath the command of his voice, frightened, and so she was as well. She couldn’t find the words to say, so slowly, and almost imperceptibly she nodded in return.

“I can’t believe how much…” he trailed off, keeping the rest of the thought to himself, but Anna understood, nevertheless. He couldn’t believe how little she knew, which she knew should embarrass her, but more than that it scared her, because she also knew that in his unspoken words he meant that he couldn’t believe how much he hasn’t told her, and how much of that could get her killed.

He looked terrified and she could see her own horror mirrored inn his eyes, but soon for him it faded. His grip on her loosened and he moved his hands from her back up to her face, cupping her jaw with one hand as the other brushed stray hairs away for her frightened eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’ve frightened you twice in one night… that wasn’t kind of me.”

Anna closed her eyes, he was giving her one those “too intense” looks again, and she couldn’t meet it and try to slow her racing heart simultaneously. The way he could just shift like that was too much for her sometimes. She let out the breath she’d been holding and opened her eyes to be met with his deep caring ones.

“There’s a lot I still need to explain to you Anna,” he said, both already aware of this, but it needing to be voiced, nevertheless. “Maybe your first trek into the mountains, at least your first one looking for me, should wait until Spring.”

She frowned. Of course, she was the logic in his words. There was clearly a lot she didn’t know, and plenty more that she didn’t know she didn’t know. Yet she was disappointed that she’d have to wait to supplement his visits until after the thaw.

It was selfish, and she knew it. She would see him once a month, which was much more than she’d seen of him before, and yet she wanted more.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers as if he’d known exactly what she was thinking. He kisses her slowly, gently, a kiss that was full of promise that had her both melting into his touch and pushing for more. She wasn’t a greedy person, she had wealth and a life of luxury, but she’d never truly wanted it despite being born into it. She was, however, greedy with him, her lips parting to let him in, her body pressing into his, pleasing for more friction, for more comfort, more physicality and far less clothing.

He responded in kind, his hands moving back down to her hips, pulling her up onto him until her legs were all but wrapped around him as he knelt on her bed. His tongue swiped against hers and she moaned into his mouth.

He drank in the sound greedily, shifting them both together so that he was above her on the mattress, pressed up on his arms, kissing her senseless as her hips bucked into his.

It felt right. She knew and didn’t know what she was asking him, she couldn’t really put it into words. She’d not been taught such things, had no way to learn.

When her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, he pulled away, leaving her a blushing mess on the mattress, feeling again, that she’d done something wrong.

The look he had in his eyes was unnatural but beyond the usual intensity of his looks toward her. She swore that in the dim light of the room, she saw gold in his eyes. Just as soon as the thought registered, the strange, unnatural look faded and with it, the color she’d sworn she saw. When she focused on his eyes again, he looked almost entirely human, apologetic brown, only slightly more than unremarkable, and a harbinger of the words she knew were coming.

“Not tonight?” she asked, knowing the answer and telling herself for the second time in as many months, that she was not as disappointed as she felt.

He nodded, looking sheepish and apologetic, but offering her no explanation. He’d already told her “someday” and that had to be enough for her for now. As it was, the date of “someday” seemed to be the least of her problems.

He leaned back down to give her another kiss. She understood it was an apology and she returned it.

“I should leave soon my beloved,” he said gently. Anna took this as meaning, no you didn’t chase me out by wanting more than I’m ready to give you.

She nodded sadly, “I won’t see you again until after Christmas.”

He offered a small frown in return and pulled her once again into his arms, this time chastely, his hands going to her hair to work carefully at fixing the braid he’d given her.

“There’s a lot I have to do during the solstice, but your holiday falls after that, doesn’t it? Maybe I can come again?”

Her heart wanted to plead with him to do so, but her head said that it was unfair of her to ask that of him when he was already giving her the monthly visit he’d promised. She wasn’t certain of how difficult it was for him to come to her, but she did know that she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

“No,” she said, “that’s alright, you’ve given me this and I’ll look forward to January.”

He kissed her again, lips lingering on hers a bit longer than they had when the kiss had been an apology, but not for as long as they had for the one they’d shared just before that.

When he left, he left her in her bed, blowing out her candles and lanterns for her as he went. The last she saw of him was his figure silhouetted by moonlight, moving off her balcony and into shadow. She’d sworn for a moment that she’d seen something else there with him but pulled her blankets up to her chin and decided not to think about it.

There was too much to worry about to even begin thinking about all the things she couldn’t imagine. Maybe, she thought before she fell asleep, it had been one of the trolls he’d said had raised him. Maybe he’d been joking about it, she thought, but also knew he hadn’t been, and that, at least, was one mystery she didn’t have to worry about too terribly much.

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 11

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 10 - Chapter 12

Chapter 11- Water

~~~

Everyone useful always dies. It’s like the universe keeps changing things in a personal challenge to Sherlock Holmes.

Then we dragged along for the ride.

For once, it would be nice to catch a bad guy, have him confess, clear up any confusion, and move on with our lives.

~~~

“What?”

Amelia gaped at Mycroft, unsure if her exhausted brain had heard him correctly.

“There was a transfer issue,” he repeated, looking none too thrilled about it. “Someone sabotaged the police car. While they tried to resolve the issue, Maxwell Brenner was shot by a sniper across the street.”

“So, he’s dead?” she asked bluntly, her expression dropping as the words left her.

“Very much so,” Mycroft nodded curtly.

Amelia looked to Sherlock, a loss at what to say.

What did this mean for the case?

Did they catch who did it?

“You didn’t catch the shooter,” Sherlock guessed, and when his brother didn’t reply, he sighed. “This certainly complicates things.”

“We still have enough evidence to shut down research and development at Chemco. The Board will be held accountable, but I’m not sure if my colleagues in the States will be able to do much.”

“Probably slap a fee on them,” Amelia sighed.

“Unless, of course, we are able to locate your mother?” he tried and Amelia just shrugged. She hadn’t heard from the woman in over a month now, going on two.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that her mother had beaten Max to the grave.

James Moriarty seemed to be efficient like that.

“We have to presume Lydia Brenner is out of the picture,” Sherlock cut in. “Have you found any leads on Moriarty?”

“Nothing,” Mycroft replied. “He’s disappeared. Though, while I’m not a betting man, I’d put money on the fact he was behind Brenner’s untimely death.”

“Which one?” Amelia scoffed bitterly. “He seems determined to wipe out my lineage.”

“As soon as he makes a sound, we will know,” he assured the pair before his phone started ringing. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get in contact with your cousin.”

“I’m not convinced he has that many eyes,” Amelia murmured to Sherlock once Mycroft was out of earshot.

“He doesn’t,” he agreed quietly. “He doesn’t want you to panic and run away. He’s going to need your testimony for any legal actions against Chemco.”

“Ah yes, because running did so much for me last time,” she mumbled sarcastically, looking over her shoulder into John’s room.

“He knows that as well,” Sherlock replied. “He’s being careful. Clearly, things are not going well in Her Majesty’s Government’s Chemco Pharmaceuticals case.”

Amelia leaned against the hall wall, releasing a long pent up sigh and closing her eyes. Ruthie would probably want to have a funeral and invite the extended family. Do it properly.

They’d need a better story to tell everyone, no point spitting on his grave. He had more than paid for his sins as far as Amelia was concerned.

Peeking at Sherlock, she frowned. John would be in no shape to attend a memorial service this week, besides, it would be bad taste to bring the guy her felon uncle shot.

There was no way she could handle going alone, though Ruthie would definitely need her support as she buried her father. Even with the bad blood, he was family and he’d been a doting parent the vast majority of her life.

Ruthie called Amelia in tears almost immediately after speaking with Mycroft. After calming her down, she asked some basic questions, hoping to assist her cousin in whatever manner she needed.

It was Max’s wishes he is buried next to his wife at the Brenner family estate in Essex; Sirenshore.

The large manor had been in the family for generations, originally having been built for the first Brenner that found success in merchant goods and trading in the early 16th century. Max had been living there since the death of the first Maxwell Brenner, Amelia, and Ruth’s grandfather.

“Mostly contraband,” Sherlock supplied after Amelia explained the circumstances to John with a groan. She was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, with Sherlock in a chair pulled up next to them.

“So you’re rich-rich,” John translated.

“I’m comfortable,” she answered quickly.

“My family is comfortable, your family has a yacht,” Sherlock added.

“Did you rent or own the apartment in Brooklyn?” John asked, sitting up, he is gaze narrowed at Amelia suspiciously.

“I mean, my mom owned the building,” she explained sheepishly, twisting a nervous strand of auburn hair between her fingers. “But I did purchase the penthouse from her.”

“Penthouse,” John repeated. “You live in a basement, but own a penthouse in Brooklyn, New York.”

“I sold it,” she protested. “I gave the money to a handful of after school programs and two large food pantries in Harlem and the Bronx.”

“And how much was that?”

“Do I really need to go over my finances with you, John Hamish Watson? When I told you we can go to Tesco without you arguing over expired clippings, I wasn’t lying.”

“Humour me,” he replied dryly.

“Just under two million,” she mumbled, looking toward the ground. “She initially sold me the property for very cheap. It was well below the market rate. And I got a steal with the present market and the realtor was a family friend…”

“American dollars?” John clarified. “Two million, dollars?”

“Brooklyn is in the United States, John,” she answered.

“Don’t ‘John’ me,” he held up a finger. “How much did your mother make last year?”

“I think you’ve broken him,” Sherlock commented. “John, this has never been a secret.”

“Honestly, why do you think I've been covering your portion of the rent?” she blinked at him, missing over her shoulder Sherlock’s suddenly panicked expression.

“You’ve what?”

“I took over your portion of the rent,” she shrugged. “It made more sense and was far less expensive overall compared to most decent places in London. Besides, you both were doing so much for me. I cover Sherlock’s too.”

“Sherlock?”

“I told you not to tell him,” the detective hissed under his breath.

“What are you talking about? He had to have known, I told you to stop collecting the rent,” she frowned, looking at him quizzically. “Unless you... haven’t... been...? Oh, Sherlock.”

“Where is it then?” John snapped. “That isn’t an inconsiderable amount of money, Sherlock.”

“I invested it in a high yield savings-investment account,” Sherlock confessed. “I was going to give you the information at Christmas.”

“You can’t just do stuff like that without asking people!” he glared between Amelia and Sherlock.

“Why are you glaring at me? I think it was more than fair for the work you’ve done for this case and the friendship you’ve provided,” Amelia huffed. “I wouldn’t let my brother pay rent if I could more than afford it.”

“The accounts nearly doubled,” Sherlock added, throwing on a smile at the irritated doctor. “Happy Christmas.”

“You two-,” he groaned, falling back against his pillows with a groan. “I don’t know how you don’t see it.”

“It was a transactional situation,” Amelia continued, clapping her hands together. “If it bothers you, you’re welcome to go back to paying rent.”

“I have been!”

“That’s between you two,” she stood up, pointing between the men. “I’m the bigger person here, and I’m going to get hot cocoa for myself as a reward for my good deeds. Do either of you need anything?”

“I’ll take some chips,” Sherlock piped up.

“That was more rhetorical, but John? You do look a little pale,” she frowned sympathetically.

“A sandwich or something would be nice,” he admitted quietly.

“Roast beef?”

“If they have it,” he smiled after her as she left.

“Why aren’t you mad at her anymore?”

“Because she wasn’t stealing my money,” John returned his glare to Sherlock. “Four months.”

“Here,” Sherlock handed him his mobile, a large number on the screen.

“What’s this?”

“The account balance,” he answered, arching a brow.

“Oh,” John's eyes widened. “That’s a lot more than four months of rent.”

“Believe it or not, I’m quite proficient at understanding the stock market,” Sherlock took the device back and pocketed it. “I’ve helped Amelia with some financial decisions as well.”

“I still can’t believe you knew about this,” John sighed.

“Wait until you see what she bought you for Christmas,” Sherlock snickered.

“Isn’t it a bit strange? She could have gotten a much nicer place, hired a security detail, but settled with us,” John mused, snorting under his breath. He leaned back in his pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

“Not at all,” Sherlock shook his head. “She trusts us. Haven’t you noticed how jumpy she gets outside of Baker Street? Of course, if one of us is with her, she’s ok, but the further we go...”

“That explains Canterbury,” John hummed, nodding to himself. “Of course.”

“She knows Mycroft and his men are swarming the halls, so she offers to get food,” Sherlock added. “And the cafeteria is only one floor down.”

“She doesn’t think she needs to buy our affection, does she?” John voiced, looking to Sherlock in concern.

“No,” he crossed his arms, leaning back. “That generosity and affection just happen naturally, I think. She’d be knitting us scarves and making biscuits otherwise.”

“Shame so many people want to kill her,” John joked dryly.

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone kind was killed by petty vengeance.”

“Well, not on our watch,” John cleared his throat determinedly.

~~~

“The funeral is this Sunday,” Amelia looked to the calendar on her cell phone. “That means I’ve got to get to Canterbury by tomorrow night, help organize things on Saturday, and Sunday is the big day.”

She plopped backward on the sofa, pulling her blankets over her head.

Despite the excellent job Mycroft’s men had done in cleaning up her apartment, she still felt uneasy sleeping alone in the distant space. She barely slept as it was since John’s accident, but over the last few days she’d set up a small spot on the worn sofa.

Usually, if she was asleep, Sherlock was up tinkering around, and vice versa.

It was oddly comforting knowing that if someone were to burst through the front door of Baker Street, he would be right there.

“Are we staying the night after the funeral?”

“We?” Amelia pulled the blanket off her face, looking up at him curiously. “I cannot ask you to attend the funeral of the man who nearly killed your best friend.”

“I would have gone anyway,” he shrugged casually. “Which tie should I wear? I have a tasteful burgundy one that Mrs. Hudson gave me for Christmas last year that I haven’t an opportunity to wear.”

Amelia ducked under the blanket again, smiling to herself like an idiot.

“You look best in the short-sleeved black dress,” he continued musing. “If you wear a charcoal sweater with that, perhaps the gunmetal grey tie instead.”

As miserable as this event was bound to be, perhaps it wasn’t going to be that terrible.

Chapter 12

[gumnut-logic]

When the World Goes Boom

Okay, I tried. I honestly tried to finish this, but it didn’t happen ::falls to my knees and begs forgiveness:: I really didn’t want to offer yet another WIP, but aaaaargh! I’ll work on it some more tomorrow. It isn’t supposed to be long, though it has definitely gone off the rails of what it was supposed to be ::glares at it enough to set it on fire::

There is more written, but I’m glaring at it at 11.30pm, very annoyed with it. So I’m going to put it down, walk away and look at it again tomorrow.

I’m sorry ::wails lots::

So this is...

Part One

again ::headdesk::

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ @i-am-chidorixblossom​  and @olliepig​ for reading and listening to my wailing.

Spoilers for Season 3.

Happy Birthday, Alan.

-o-o-o-

It involved a fire.

An out of control fire was never a good thing, but an out of control fire in space was always a very bad thing.

Thunderbird Three was launched and Alan and Scott broke atmosphere at speed. John threw names and numbers at them. Firm Oxy-Baker again. This time an in-orbit facility harvesting space junk and recycling components and fuel.

Emphasis on the fuel as the fire was threatening to denotate the storage cylinders.

Scott made a mental note to take out Oxy-Baker on the stock market the first chance he had. He was sick of this poorly managed death trap of a company.

But his train of thought was heavily distracted as they pulled the three staff from the habitat just as the whole complex made like a sun and exploded.

He lost time for a moment there.

Consciousness found him spinning through space, his safety line dragging the three rescues along behind him.

“Scott!”

John. Thunderbird Five.

He blinked and forced his brain to work.

Earth spun past, alternating with starlit space.

“Thunderbird One, do you copy?”

“Uh?”

“Scott!”

John, perturbed. Not good.

“Thunderbird Five. I, uh, copy.” He could stop the spinning, couldn’t he?

He palmed his jetpack controls and did just that.

God, that was so much better.

“Scott, status!”

Damn, Johnny was a nag.

His three rescuees settled around him. One grabbed at his leg, her eyes wild and terrified.

Rescuees.

Shit.

He reached down and gently brought her closer, his brain struggling to function clearly enough to assess her condition. Suit seals, air supply. He moved from her to the next, who was still unconscious, but appeared secure. The third person at the very end of the safety line was not so lucky.

The terror on her face was forever frozen in the vacuum of space as her suit had been shredded.

Scott closed his eyes for just a split second.

“Scott-“

“Thunderbird Five, two out of three survivors.” His voice was ever so parched. “Tell Alan-“

And his brain hit a non-sequitur.

Alan.

He had been beside him.

Where?

“Alan?”

Thunderbird Three was spinning slowly in the distance.

“Scott, I’ve lost contact with Alan.”

“Alan?!”

Thunderbird Three did not answer, the red rocket continuing to slowly spin, her pilot who knew where.

“John, where is he?!”

“Shifting orbit to assist.”

A sudden distant point on the Earth’s curve swelled into the shape of Thunderbird Five, her thrusters fully deployed. She moved fast and loomed large above him.

He skipped a breath and nearly choked on nothing.

And John was there, blue and yellow and fiery jets. His space brother took control and the next thing he knew, he was safe inside Thunderbird Five, her silver padded interior too bright for his eyes.

So he closed them.

Alan.

His eyes opened in panic.

John darted past as the air pressurized around them and sound returned.

Someone was crying.

Alan.

John was hastily assessing the two survivors. Soft words of reassurance and instruction. Both were now conscious. One crying inconsolably.

Alan.

“John.”

“I’ve lost his signal. Eos is looking for him.”

As if hearing her name, Eos spoke up. “John, I have located Alan Tracy.”

“Where is he?” Two brothers. One voice.

There followed the recovery of their unconscious brother. Scott would never forget the sight of John decked out in his exosuit cradling his little brother against his chest, terror in his eyes.

Alan’s suit integrity was in place, but only because the material had melted down one side. The heat of the explosion…he had been too close.

His little brother had been burnt.

Part of Scott started screaming.

John took command. Scott forced his brain into procedure as Thunderbird Five realigned her path yet again and John took his exosuit out to Three and docked the abandoned, but thankfully undamaged craft.

Alan’s face was so pale under the touch of his fingertips. His littlest brother…

“Scott?”

His father’s voice echoed through Thunderbird Five. John was moving the rescuees to Three.

“Status? John reported Alan injured.”

“Yes.”

The scanner was in his hand and its readings hurt. Still his thoughts were sluggish.

“Scott? Your status?”

“He’s burnt, Dad.” Burnt. His little brother was burnt. Part of his uniform was fused to his thigh. Scott couldn’t help him.

Help him.

A blue gloved hand reached over and took the scanner from his fingers. John. Turquoise eyes frowned at him and that same scanner was suddenly pointed at him. It whirred and flickered light.

“Scott, you need to sit down.”

“Alan-“

“I’ve got, Alan. I’m going to transfer him to Three. You need to sit here and wait for me. Can you do that?” John’s voice was ever so gentle.

A single nod. But then John was taking Alan away. Scott had to follow.

He was his littlest brother.

He was vaguely aware of John shooting him a worried look, but Scott’s eyes were only for Alan. He trailed behind the hoverstretcher and the Thunderbird changed from Five to the red of Three.

John was strapping him into a chair beside Alan’s docked stretcher. Blue fingers touched his cheek and Scott looked up.

“He is going to be okay, Scott.”

Something knotted in his throat and the mental controls he grabbed for failed.

The whimper that passed his lips registered as horribly embarrassing in some corner of his mind, but he paid it no attention.

John’s hand slipped to his shoulder and those turquoise eyes suddenly filled his vision. “Alan is going to be okay, Scott. I have to pilot. I need you to stay here. Can you do that?”

Scott struggled to straighten his shoulders. What the hell was wrong with him? What put that horrible fear in John’s eyes?

John was his little brother, too.

“I can.”

A gentle squeeze of that blue hand and John was gone.

Three roared and his world moved.

He lost time again.

Everything shook and shifted from red to green and Virgil appeared in front of him, brown eyes ever so worried. “Scott, you with me?”

“Alan!” He shot to his feet and Virgil grabbed him as the world took several steps to the left. His head screamed.

‘Hey, he’s okay. He’s okay.” Strong arms held him.

That green.

He was on Two. How?

“Mid-air transfer. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Alan. We need to get Alan to a hospital.” He wilted. “He’s burnt, Virgil. He’s burnt.”

Something flickered in those deep brown eyes. “I know, Scott, but he is going to be okay. I need to look after you now. C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.”

“Alan. Where’s Alan?”

Virgil stepped to one side and there lay his little brother on a docked hover gurney. Sitting beside him was his father.

“Dad?”

Something inside just broke.

He was aware of Virgil grabbing him again as the world tipped on its side and his stomach heaved. Everything spun. He realised he was talking, saying something over and over again. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sorry…” He mumbled and mumbled and grey eyes caught his, doubled and wavered. “I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry. Allie got hurt. I’m sorry…”

A hand found his hair and he realised he was horizontal. Virgil was there. Dad was there. Dad. I’m sorry. Allie got hurt. I’m so sorry. Light flickered over him. Virgil’s worried rumble. A hand inspecting his head.

Soft fingers on his cheek.

Dad.

I’m sorry.

His father’s voice was ever so soft. “It’s okay, Scotty. Not your fault. It’s okay.”

A single tear leaked out one eye.

Blue fingers gently wiped it away.

Dad was in uniform. His pale gold baldric shone dully in the lighting. Scott’s eyes fixated on it as it doubled and wavered in and out of focus.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

His father’s hand cupped the side of his face. “Not your fault, Scotty.” Grey eyes bore it into him and Scott fixated on their determination.

But it didn’t matter because they blurred, the greys all became black, and everything faded away.

-o-o-o-

End Part One (damn it)

[ronaldmrashid]

The First Rule Of Financial Independence: Never Lose Money

In 2009, I made myself two promises when I started Financial Samurai: 1) write 3X a week on average for 10 years and 2) never lose money again.

We had just gone through a financial beating where my net worth got slashed by 35% – 40% in just six months. The pain was too much to bear, so I decided to take up writing instead of drugs and alcohol.

I knew that worst case, if I stayed committed with Financial Samurai, in 10 years I’d have the option to escape full-time work. When you spend at least 10,000 hours on your craft, you will have opportunities.

Further, I knew that if I never lost money again, in 10 years by simply earning a conservative 5% rate of return plus annual savings, I’d surpass the net worth that I once had before the financial crisis by at least 2X.

Achieving financial independence takes discipline and patience. But once you get there, you’ll realize all your effort was well worth it.

The First Rule Of Financial Independence

The first rule of financial independence states that you should never lose money on your path to financial independence, especially after achieving financial independence.

If you lose 50% of your net worth, you need a 100% gain to get back to even. But worse than trying to recoup your losses is the loss of time. The older you get, the more you realize everything you want to do is a race against death.

Once you’ve experienced financial independence, when your gross passive income covers your desired life’s expenses, you never want to return to the salt mines again.

Ideally, your investments never go down, but we know from history that in any given year, there’s a ~30% chance the S&P 500 will end in the red. Therefore, it’s almost impossible to never have a down year with any of your risk assets.

So what is a financially independent person supposed to do? The solution is to either completely de-risk, diversify, or have alternative income streams beyond your passive income to bolster potential investment losses.

If you cannot avoid losing money in your investments, then you must certainly avoid an annual net worth decline. The solution here is to buffer your potential investment losses with aggressive saving and additional sources of income.

Let me share some examples of various financially independent archetypes I’ve met, and how they plan to always follow the first rule of financial independence.

Financially Independence Archetypes

Archetype #1: 60-year-old couple, $3 million net worth, $90K passive income, $90K total income, $50K expenses

Due to inflation, $3 million is the new $1 million. We’ve got to move past the belief that having a $1 million net worth means you’re a millionaire. A $1 million net worth means you’re earning about $30,000 – $40,000 a year in gross passive income, which does not reflect the traditional millionaire lifestyle.

With a respectable $3 million net worth, however, archetype #1 lives a comfortable lifestyle off a low-risk 3% return or $90,000 a year in net passive income from AA-rated municipal bonds.

The 60-year-old couple has no debt and their kids are independent adults. They could increase their withdrawal rate and eat into principal, but they want to remain conservative.

The couple has no desire to work part-time or consult for money. They are happy with what they have.

Since they only spend $50,000 a year, they get to reinvest $40,000 a year to earn another $1,200 a year in net passive income to keep up with inflation and boost their financial buffer.

Their net worth should never go down because there has been a 0% default history on AA-municipal bonds in their state.

Further, within five years, the couple expect to begin receiving an additional $40,000 total in Social Security for the rest of their lives.

Archetype #2: Late 30s, $10 million net worth, $208K passive income, $80K part-time consulting income, $288K total income, $130K expenses

This couple hit it big when the husband started early at a hot startup that went public after 10 years. At the age of 38, the husband decided to retire and live off the $10 million after-tax windfall after he sold all his company stock.

He married a school teacher eight years his junior and asked her to spend more time with him in retirement to travel. They’re planning to have their first child in the next two years and want to do the crazy dual stay at home parent thing.

Because the couple is relatively young, they feel comfortable taking on more risk. Further, with part-time consulting income of $80K a year, they only need to earn about $50K after-taxes to fund their $130K in annual expenses.

As a result, their net worth is composed of: 20% in the S&P 500, 20% in their primary residence, 50% in AA-municipal bonds, and 10% cash.

60% of their net worth will generate about $180,000 in passive income at a 3% rate of return. The $2 million S&P 500 index position also generates about $28,000 a year in dividends due to a ~1.4% gross yield. Add on the $80,000 in part-time consulting income, and we’re talking $288,000 in annual net worth increase, or 2.8% +/- any increase or decrease in the value of the S&P 500.

With $2 million of their net worth exposed to the S&P 500, this couple can afford to lose 13% in their stock holdings before their net worth starts going down. They are indifferent about the value of their $2 million primary residence because they plan to own it forever.

Their ultimate goal is to grow their net worth by a stress-free 4% a year so that in 10 years, their net worth will have grown to about $15 million. If there is a particularly rough patch in the stock market, the husband will ramp up his consulting work in order to never see a net worth decline. He has the capacity to earn up to $250,000 a year in consulting.

Worst case, they could invest $10 million of their liquid net worth in 10 years in a portfolio of municipal bonds that yield them $300,000+ in after-tax passive income.

Even if their expenses grow from $130K to $200K after conceiving a child, they’ll still have a $100,000 a year gross surplus of cash flow. This couple is unlikely to ever lose money again.

Archetype #3: 40s, $5 million net worth, $150K passive income, $300K active income, $450K total income, $120K expenses

$5 million is the recommended minimum you’ll need if you want to retire comfortably in an expensive city with a child. One look at the budget and you’ll recognize this reality.

Archetype #3 is in their 40s with one 5-year old child who began attending private kindergarten that costs $30,000 a year. The couple’s total after-tax living expense is $10,000 a month.

The couple is financially dependent and are no longer working full-time jobs after 20 years of grinding away. The difference with this couple and the other two couples is that they have an online business where they generate $300,000 a year in gross income.

The wife started her online store selling a variety of women’s goods on the side while working as a Marketing Director.

She read Financial Samurai and thought, why not utilize my expertise at my day job and create something of my own. After all, one of the best ways to get next-level-rich is to grow your own equity.

With a combined $450K a year in gross income and only $120K in annual after-tax expenses, they have roughly a $300K annual gross buffer. Therefore, this couple is willing to take more risks with their investments.

Their net worth is currently composed of 30% in various large cap dividend stocks, 25% in real estate, 40% in AA-municipal bonds, and 5% in a high yield online savings account.

With $1.5M in stocks and a $300K annual gross surplus after expenses, this couple is able to withstand a 20% decline in their stock portfolio before they start losing money.

Using Financial SEER, this couple’s Risk Tolerance Multiple is a reasonable 13.8X if using a 35% expected average bear market decline, and just 7.9X if using a 20% expected decline in their stock portfolio.

This couple’s ultimate goal is to achieve a $10 million liquid net worth by their 50s so that they can generate ~$300,000 a year in passive income and hedge against a decline in their online business.

Never Lose Money Again

Unless you’re risking other people’s money, it’s actually hard to lose much more than 20% in a well-diversified public investment portfolio. Yes, we know the average bear market declines by roughly 35% since 1928. However, that’s for stock performance alone.

Once you construct a balanced retirement portfolio of stocks and bonds, the volatility declines tremendously. Add on alternative investments, and it may be even harder to lose 35% in any given year.

Take a look at the worst year performances of the following balanced portfolios below. Even with a 60% / 40% weighting in stocks / bonds, -26.6% was the worst annual decline.

Major point: If you’ve actually achieved financial independence or are clearly on your way to financial independence, there’s no way you should be risking the majority of your net worth in risk assets without having alternative income streams. You are already comfortably happy with what you have. If you are not, then you have not yet achieved financial independence.

We must also recognize that except for 2018, it’s been easy to make money each year since 2009. Not only have stocks performed well, but so have bonds, real estate and other alternative investments.

Therefore, let us not overestimate our investing prowess. Confusing brains with a bull market is a dangerous mindset. I’ve known too many people to take excess risk only to lose it all and then some.

Historical S&P 500 returns with dividends reinvested

The feeling of never losing money is wonderful. We just need to be aware that there’s a never ending amount of money to be made. As soon as we find a way to let go of our desire for more, we will feel more satisfied and happier.

Finally, the great irony of following the first rule of financial independence is that you may actually end up making much more money long-term. When you’ve structured your finances to be bulletproof, you’ve essentially created your own perpetual trust fund.

It is precisely your financial security that allows you to take more risk. And it is the risk-taker who tends to gain all the spoils.

Related: What Does Financial Independence Feel Like?

Readers, how do you plan to never lose money on your quest to financial independence? What are some reasons why people see year over year net worth declines? If you are already financially independent, what drives you to take excess risk if you are truly happy with what you have.

The post The First Rule Of Financial Independence: Never Lose Money appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from https://www.financialsamurai.com/the-first-rule-of-financial-independence-never-lose-money/

[unixcommerce]

The Art Of Crafting More Powerful Content: 5 Top Tactics from the Experts

Welcome to the second piece in our new multi-part “Collective Wisdom” series of content marketing strategy articles, where you’ll learn proven methods taking you from the beginning of the content planning cycle to its final post-publication conclusion, and featuring insight from some of the world’s most respected and successful digital marketers. Previously in “How to Boost Your Content Marketing Efforts By Planning Ahead,” we looked at implementing a smart and robust content planning strategy. Now it’s time to take a look at the intrinsically important content creation stage of any successful content marketing campaign.

Crafting Powerful Content

As we’ll explore, skillfully crafting content is one of the most important steps on a successful content marketing journey. After all, content is the centerpiece you present to the digital world — so let’s examine some of the strongest tactics to incorporate in your next campaign. [bctt tweet=”“Crafting content is a mélange in which you wear the varied hats of artist, air traffic controller, plumber, magician, statistician, salesman, marketer, and librarian.” — Lane R. Ellis @lanerellis” username=”toprank”]

Tactic 1: Incorporate Appropriate, Effective, and Engaging Visuals

Should you use visual elements in your content? Here’s a hint: Yes! Today’s marketing draws heavily on the use of interesting and compelling images and other visual content to both draw people in and clearly illustrate messages. It’s no surprise that marketers use more visuals of all types — images, animated GIFs, videos, in-content playable games, and others — than ever before. Over time, a barrage of studies have shown their superior ability for us to remember them. Compared to plain text copy, which by some calculations has only about 10% recall after three days, some 65% of visual content stays in our memories after the same period of time, according to Dr. John Medina’s “Brain Rules” and other studies. Furthermore, according to HubSpot research, visual content is over 40 times more likely to be shared on social platforms, and brands have become increasingly creative in using techniques including animated GIFs, such as the good examples shown in “10 brands using beautifully creative GIFs right now.” Videos, graphic presentations, charts and other data visualizations, animated GIFs, stock photos, fine art photos, screenshots, scans, and experimental imagery should all be considered and used to fill your specific content needs. The trick is knowing what to use and where to incorporate it, and understanding your audience helps narrow down the most appropriate and effective visuals for any particular piece of content. [bctt tweet=”“You’ve got seconds to grab your audience’s attention and only minutes to keep it.” — Dr. John Medina @BrainRulesBooks” username=”toprank”] TopRank Marketing Senior Content Marketing Manager Joshua Nite has looked into the importance of choosing dynamic and compelling images to include in written content campaigns, as he deftly explains in “How to Choose Dynamic Images for Your Blog Posts.” [bctt tweet=”“The right visual does more than take up space. It captures attention, creates a little mystery, invites the reader to dig into your carefully-crafted text.” — Josh Nite @NiteWrites” username=”toprank”] Aside from its use in blog posts, great imagery’s power of engagement carries over into the realm of content promotion. “Good visuals are doubly important for amplification, too: Your Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn shares will all include an image,” Josh noted. Knowing your intended audience and where they’re most likely to encounter a link to the shiny new content on your website is an important factor in choosing which visual elements will have the greatest pull and engagement. For example, if your audience is clicking on a link to your new blog post or other content primarily on Reddit, the imagery and overall experience those people expect and find engaging is usually quite different than what someone finding your content on LinkedIn in looking for. Use authoritative research on user experience to guide the visual imagery you choose, including the latest statistics on these elements, such as those Jeff Bullas has compiled in his “15 Visual Content Marketing Statistics That’ll Blow Your Mind.” [bctt tweet=”“People will forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.” — Jeff Bullas @jeffbullas” username=”toprank”]

Tactic 2: Make it Easy For Readers to Share Your Content in the Ways They Prefer

You can have plenty of winning content in place, but without intuitive and expected methods in place to share your carefully-crafted work, it will likely remain largely a content island unto itself — a phenomena Lee Odden calls Invisible Content Syndrome. Every audience has their own preferred means of sharing the things they find and love online. So, part of your content creation process should be to see that these methods are fully implemented, whether its as simple as having easily-found social sharing buttons and functionality, offering click-to-tweet messaging, or as advanced as using automatic copying of shortened and trackable URLs. Heidi Cohen, Chief Content Officer at Actionable Marketing Guide, has gathered together some of her favorite ways of giving readers a variety of ways to share content, in “7 Ways to Get Extra Mileage From Your Blog Posts.” [bctt tweet=”“It’s eye candy that attracts readers by making it easy for them to get the meaning of your post quickly.” — Heidi Cohen @heidicohen” username=”toprank”] More content than ever is including click-to-tweet functionality, as it provides a useful way for readers to quickly and easily share key takeaways or especially insightful quotes, however, it may not be right for your content if your audience is not generally using Twitter.

Tactic 3: Harness the Power of Gamification

Interactive content and entertaining game-based or game-like content, including elements such as quizzes, polls, and surveys, are a proven way to boost engagement and content stickiness, raising time-on-page rates as fast as racking up a high score. According to data from DemandGen, 91% of B2B buyers prefer interactive and visual content, which should come as no great surprise considering that such content stands out and is often a sign of well-thought-out content strategy. Live-streaming platform Twitch has grown to become the twelfth most-visited site in the U.S. according to Alexa data, and its 15-million-plus daily users have helped bring active audience participation into the mainstream, as our own content strategist Nick Nelson detailed recently in his fascinating “How Twitch is Breaking New Ground In Audience Engagement #CMWorld.” Our own Caitlin Burgess recently examined the power of interactive content in “Interactive Content Marketing: Why B2B Marketers Should Take Their Content from Boring to Bold,” a helpful deep-dive into not only why this form of content creates such strong engagement, but how to best use it in your content marketing campaigns. [bctt tweet=”“The real opportunity with #interactivecontent doesn’t lay in the interactivity itself. The real value creation is in the excitement or connection that you can make with your audience.” — Caitlin Burgess @CaitlinMBurgess” username=”toprank”] Or, as Liraz Rahmin Postan noted in her look at gamification for Outbrain: “As content marketers, it’s so important to keep your audience engaged and motivated to keep going. Fun, game-based and interactive content does this really well.” Gamification can include video, as our team did ahead of this year’s Content Marketing World conference, with retro 8-bit videos featuring event speakers: TopRank Marketing digital strategy director Ashley Zeckman shows the entire series of video in “Ready Player One: Top CMWorld Speakers Dish Go-To Classic Content Marketing Combos.”

Tactic 4: Run With Traditional On-Page SEO Tactics

Crafting content wouldn’t be complete without using longstanding, tried-and-true SEO tactics such as basic metadata, some of which are so fundamental that they should always be used. Some of the same metadata elements I first used in 1993 during the pre-Google days are still wise to incorporate, including the ubiquitous-but-important HTML title and description tags. Eighty-two percent of marketing influencers say that the effectiveness of SEO is generally increasing, according to MarketingProfs and Octos statistics. Our own CEO, Lee Odden, explores some of these fundamental SEO questions in his “Power Pages and Best Answer Content: Should You Go Long or Short Form?” In addition, SparkToro’s Rand Fishkin, co-founder of Moz, also takes a look at just what SEO means today in his helpful piece “What Does It Mean to “Write for SEO” in 2018?” [bctt tweet=”“There’s no reason you have to use this old-school junk methodology that became like pseudoscience in the SEO world and had a recent revival. You should be using words & phrases that Google has related to a particular keyword.” — @randfish” username=”toprank”] SEO is so ingrained in the structure of the web that it’s been surprising to hear it being given the last rites by some in the industry. However, from our perspective, SEO is not only still a viable tactic, but also necessary — you just need to put the time into thoughtfully analyzing the data so you can pull actionable insights. [bctt tweet=”“Every marketer has access to this data. It’s time to analyze it and use it to inform your content strategy to create customized, relevant, and insightful content that is more valuable to your target audience.” — @annieleuman” username=”toprank”]

Tactic 5: Creativity Is Key For Making Best-Answer Content That Stands Out

No matter how many technical tricks or contraptions you use in a content marketing campaign, the road will be a long uphill one if you don’t present creative and useful information that fills a need for your audience. Being the best answer is the key tenet of Lee’s “Be the Best Answer: 5 Steps to Grow Influence for Your Brand,” which shows how creating or co-creating relevant and credible content is a vitally important step in a successful digital marketing campaign. [bctt tweet=”“Influence plays an important role in a ‘Best Answer’ marketing strategy.” — Lee Odden @leeodden” username=”toprank”] The best content creation involves both art and creativity, as comic author Scott Adams once summed up by pointing out that, “Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep,” or as artist Paul Klee said, “One eye sees, the other feels.” The greater the creativity you and your team have, the more of an an edge you can have on the competition, and creative content draws audiences in, entertains, and when done well, enlightens. It’s one of the main ways to differentiate your content.

Tying It All Together — What Next?

By incorporating appropriate, effective, and engaging visuals, making sharing easy, harnessing the power of gamification, using fundamental SEO tactics, and offering best-answer content, your content marketing will include the elements that give your strategy a much better chance at success. These aren’t the only elements you’ll want to include in your content crafting tool bag, however, and next up we’ll take a close look at another group of important content creation tactics as we continue our “Collective Wisdom” series. In the meantime learn more by catching us at an upcoming conference or webinar, including these four:

Pubcon Las Vegas 2018 on October 17 in Las Vegas — “5 Secrets to Growing Influence in Marketing”

ITSMA Marketing Vision 2018 on November 7 in Cambridge, MA. — “Influence the Influencers – How B2B technology companies can build brand awareness with content and influence ”

MarketingProfs 2018 Marketing B2B Forum on November 15 in San Francisco — “The Confluence Equation: How Content & Influencers Drive B2B Marketing Success”

The post The Art Of Crafting More Powerful Content: 5 Top Tactics from the Experts appeared first on Online Marketing Blog – TopRank®.

http://www.toprankblog.com/

The post The Art Of Crafting More Powerful Content: 5 Top Tactics from the Experts appeared first on Unix Commerce.

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2CLvUvX via IFTTT

[christopheruearle]

The Art Of Crafting More Powerful Content: 5 Top Tactics from the Experts

Welcome to the second piece in our new multi-part “Collective Wisdom” series of content marketing strategy articles, where you’ll learn proven methods taking you from the beginning of the content planning cycle to its final post-publication conclusion, and featuring insight from some of the world’s most respected and successful digital marketers. Previously in “How to Boost Your Content Marketing Efforts By Planning Ahead,” we looked at implementing a smart and robust content planning strategy. Now it’s time to take a look at the intrinsically important content creation stage of any successful content marketing campaign.

Crafting Powerful Content

As we’ll explore, skillfully crafting content is one of the most important steps on a successful content marketing journey. After all, content is the centerpiece you present to the digital world — so let’s examine some of the strongest tactics to incorporate in your next campaign. [bctt tweet="“Crafting content is a mélange in which you wear the varied hats of artist, air traffic controller, plumber, magician, statistician, salesman, marketer, and librarian.” — Lane R. Ellis @lanerellis" username="toprank"]

Tactic 1: Incorporate Appropriate, Effective, and Engaging Visuals

Should you use visual elements in your content? Here’s a hint: Yes! Today’s marketing draws heavily on the use of interesting and compelling images and other visual content to both draw people in and clearly illustrate messages. It’s no surprise that marketers use more visuals of all types — images, animated GIFs, videos, in-content playable games, and others — than ever before. Over time, a barrage of studies have shown their superior ability for us to remember them. Compared to plain text copy, which by some calculations has only about 10% recall after three days, some 65% of visual content stays in our memories after the same period of time, according to Dr. John Medina’s “Brain Rules” and other studies. Furthermore, according to HubSpot research, visual content is over 40 times more likely to be shared on social platforms, and brands have become increasingly creative in using techniques including animated GIFs, such as the good examples shown in “10 brands using beautifully creative GIFs right now.” Videos, graphic presentations, charts and other data visualizations, animated GIFs, stock photos, fine art photos, screenshots, scans, and experimental imagery should all be considered and used to fill your specific content needs. The trick is knowing what to use and where to incorporate it, and understanding your audience helps narrow down the most appropriate and effective visuals for any particular piece of content. [bctt tweet="“You've got seconds to grab your audience's attention and only minutes to keep it.” — Dr. John Medina @BrainRulesBooks" username="toprank"] TopRank Marketing Senior Content Marketing Manager Joshua Nite has looked into the importance of choosing dynamic and compelling images to include in written content campaigns, as he deftly explains in “How to Choose Dynamic Images for Your Blog Posts.” [bctt tweet="“The right visual does more than take up space. It captures attention, creates a little mystery, invites the reader to dig into your carefully-crafted text.” — Josh Nite @NiteWrites" username="toprank"] Aside from its use in blog posts, great imagery’s power of engagement carries over into the realm of content promotion. “Good visuals are doubly important for amplification, too: Your Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn shares will all include an image,” Josh noted. Knowing your intended audience and where they’re most likely to encounter a link to the shiny new content on your website is an important factor in choosing which visual elements will have the greatest pull and engagement. For example, if your audience is clicking on a link to your new blog post or other content primarily on Reddit, the imagery and overall experience those people expect and find engaging is usually quite different than what someone finding your content on LinkedIn in looking for. Use authoritative research on user experience to guide the visual imagery you choose, including the latest statistics on these elements, such as those Jeff Bullas has compiled in his “15 Visual Content Marketing Statistics That’ll Blow Your Mind.” [bctt tweet="“People will forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.” — Jeff Bullas @jeffbullas" username="toprank"]

Tactic 2: Make it Easy For Readers to Share Your Content in the Ways They Prefer

You can have plenty of winning content in place, but without intuitive and expected methods in place to share your carefully-crafted work, it will likely remain largely a content island unto itself — a phenomena Lee Odden calls Invisible Content Syndrome. Every audience has their own preferred means of sharing the things they find and love online. So, part of your content creation process should be to see that these methods are fully implemented, whether its as simple as having easily-found social sharing buttons and functionality, offering click-to-tweet messaging, or as advanced as using automatic copying of shortened and trackable URLs. Heidi Cohen, Chief Content Officer at Actionable Marketing Guide, has gathered together some of her favorite ways of giving readers a variety of ways to share content, in “7 Ways to Get Extra Mileage From Your Blog Posts.” [bctt tweet="“It’s eye candy that attracts readers by making it easy for them to get the meaning of your post quickly.” — Heidi Cohen @heidicohen" username="toprank"] More content than ever is including click-to-tweet functionality, as it provides a useful way for readers to quickly and easily share key takeaways or especially insightful quotes, however, it may not be right for your content if your audience is not generally using Twitter.

Tactic 3: Harness the Power of Gamification

Interactive content and entertaining game-based or game-like content, including elements such as quizzes, polls, and surveys, are a proven way to boost engagement and content stickiness, raising time-on-page rates as fast as racking up a high score. According to data from DemandGen, 91% of B2B buyers prefer interactive and visual content, which should come as no great surprise considering that such content stands out and is often a sign of well-thought-out content strategy. Live-streaming platform Twitch has grown to become the twelfth most-visited site in the U.S. according to Alexa data, and its 15-million-plus daily users have helped bring active audience participation into the mainstream, as our own content strategist Nick Nelson detailed recently in his fascinating “How Twitch is Breaking New Ground In Audience Engagement #CMWorld.” Our own Caitlin Burgess recently examined the power of interactive content in “Interactive Content Marketing: Why B2B Marketers Should Take Their Content from Boring to Bold,” a helpful deep-dive into not only why this form of content creates such strong engagement, but how to best use it in your content marketing campaigns. [bctt tweet="“The real opportunity with #interactivecontent doesn’t lay in the interactivity itself. The real value creation is in the excitement or connection that you can make with your audience.” — Caitlin Burgess @CaitlinMBurgess" username="toprank"] Or, as Liraz Rahmin Postan noted in her look at gamification for Outbrain: “As content marketers, it’s so important to keep your audience engaged and motivated to keep going. Fun, game-based and interactive content does this really well.” Gamification can include video, as our team did ahead of this year’s Content Marketing World conference, with retro 8-bit videos featuring event speakers:

TopRank Marketing digital strategy director Ashley Zeckman shows the entire series of video in “Ready Player One: Top CMWorld Speakers Dish Go-To Classic Content Marketing Combos.”

Tactic 4: Run With Traditional On-Page SEO Tactics

Crafting content wouldn’t be complete without using longstanding, tried-and-true SEO tactics such as basic metadata, some of which are so fundamental that they should always be used. Some of the same metadata elements I first used in 1993 during the pre-Google days are still wise to incorporate, including the ubiquitous-but-important HTML title and description tags. Eighty-two percent of marketing influencers say that the effectiveness of SEO is generally increasing, according to MarketingProfs and Octos statistics. Our own CEO, Lee Odden, explores some of these fundamental SEO questions in his “Power Pages and Best Answer Content: Should You Go Long or Short Form?” In addition, SparkToro’s Rand Fishkin, co-founder of Moz, also takes a look at just what SEO means today in his helpful piece “What Does It Mean to "Write for SEO" in 2018?” [bctt tweet="“There's no reason you have to use this old-school junk methodology that became like pseudoscience in the SEO world and had a recent revival. You should be using words & phrases that Google has related to a particular keyword.” — @randfish" username="toprank"] SEO is so ingrained in the structure of the web that it’s been surprising to hear it being given the last rites by some in the industry. However, from our perspective, SEO is not only still a viable tactic, but also necessary — you just need to put the time into thoughtfully analyzing the data so you can pull actionable insights. [bctt tweet="“Every marketer has access to this data. It’s time to analyze it and use it to inform your content strategy to create customized, relevant, and insightful content that is more valuable to your target audience.” — @annieleuman" username="toprank"]

Tactic 5: Creativity Is Key For Making Best-Answer Content That Stands Out

No matter how many technical tricks or contraptions you use in a content marketing campaign, the road will be a long uphill one if you don’t present creative and useful information that fills a need for your audience. Being the best answer is the key tenet of Lee’s “Be the Best Answer: 5 Steps to Grow Influence for Your Brand,” which shows how creating or co-creating relevant and credible content is a vitally important step in a successful digital marketing campaign. [bctt tweet="“Influence plays an important role in a ‘Best Answer’ marketing strategy.” — Lee Odden @leeodden" username="toprank"] The best content creation involves both art and creativity, as comic author Scott Adams once summed up by pointing out that, “Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep,” or as artist Paul Klee said, “One eye sees, the other feels.” The greater the creativity you and your team have, the more of an an edge you can have on the competition, and creative content draws audiences in, entertains, and when done well, enlightens. It’s one of the main ways to differentiate your content.

Tying It All Together — What Next?

By incorporating appropriate, effective, and engaging visuals, making sharing easy, harnessing the power of gamification, using fundamental SEO tactics, and offering best-answer content, your content marketing will include the elements that give your strategy a much better chance at success. These aren’t the only elements you’ll want to include in your content crafting tool bag, however, and next up we’ll take a close look at another group of important content creation tactics as we continue our “Collective Wisdom” series. In the meantime learn more by catching us at an upcoming conference or webinar, including these four:

Pubcon Las Vegas 2018 on October 17 in Las Vegas — “5 Secrets to Growing Influence in Marketing”

ITSMA Marketing Vision 2018 on November 7 in Cambridge, MA. — “Influence the Influencers – How B2B technology companies can build brand awareness with content and influence ”

MarketingProfs 2018 Marketing B2B Forum on November 15 in San Francisco — “The Confluence Equation: How Content & Influencers Drive B2B Marketing Success”

The post The Art Of Crafting More Powerful Content: 5 Top Tactics from the Experts appeared first on Online Marketing Blog - TopRank®.

[disc-golf]

6 Ways Successful People Think Differently

Joe Coulombe was successful.

At least, he was by most standards. Several years ago, he launched a small chain of convenience stores in southern California that fit the 7-11 model.

But then, he saw an opportunity. Always one for innovation and improvement, he wondered if he could create something that would better serve the growing population of recent college graduates who wanted convenience, but also craved something better than two-day-old hot dogs and Mountain Dew.

So, he opened a market in Pasadena. He stocked it with wine and liquor, as well as high-quality prepared foods and fresh ingredients. He hired hard-working employees and put an emphasis on training. He paid them well, too.

He worked long, hard hours. He regularly analyzed his business. He never gave up, even when business was slow.

Eventually, the market grew, so he decided to add more locations—especially around universities and young professional hubs. He added more healthy, organic foods to the markets’ shelves, and diversified his offerings.

Lo and behold, in a few short years, the concept took off.

That market is Trader Joe’s.

Coulombe’s success story—and outside-the-box thinking—is only one example of many enjoyed by entrepreneurial pioneers who upset existing industries to meet a need and solve a persistent problem.

Why was he successful? Because he thought differently—about his business, about the world around him, and about himself. Because he was focused. Because he was determined. Because he was connected to his community and his customers.

You see, all successful people think differently.

They resist complacency and are driven by urgency.

They say NO to almost everything and have a relentless focus on what matters. 

They make up for a lack of resources (money, support staff, etc.) by being resourceful with what they have.

And they are always open to opportunity. 

This isn’t a genetically inherited quality. Successful people learn how to think differently.

You can, too. Here’s where to start:

1. Think differently about time

The beginner thinks: “I must be available to everyone all the time or I will miss out on deals.” 

The successful person thinks: “My time is my most valuable asset. I must protect it and put it to work for me. And I will persuade the world to see it my way for their benefit, too.”

Successful people know time is more valuable than money, and that unlike money, time cannot be replaced when it passes. That’s why they are so protective of the clock and make every minute count. They control their mornings and own their days. They build systems to deal with the chaos. 

Make that shift in your mind. Would you let anyone come into your home and take money out of your wallet? No. Then why do you let the same people come into your life and take your time?

Stand up for the minutes, hours, and days of your life. Time is always counting down, and you need to use it as wisely as possible.

If you find that people are stealing your time, set up weekly “office hours” for open communication with clients, prospects, and employees. Communicate this time clearly, and frame it as a clear benefit to everyone who walks through your door.

When unavailable, be sure you convey your regrets (via an automated response or voicemail) with a positive note:

“I’m sorry I can’t respond/talk right now. I’m busy at work behind the scenes making our products and/or services and/or facility better for you so that you can enjoy an amazing experience. Thank you for understanding, and I really look forward to speaking with you during my office hours.”

See how easy that is? You CAN take more control over your time when you think differently about it.

2. Think differently about preparation

The beginner says: “Most things take care of themselves and don’t need much preparation. I’ll just roll with the punches.”

The successful person says: “The more I prepare for each day, the more I can be sure I am taking big steps toward my goals and dreams.”

This quote recently struck me, and is a particularly fitting inspiration for those needing to embrace preparation:

“Nothing wins more often than superior preparation. Genius is usually preparation.” —Kekich Credo #73

Think about it: If your energy is low, it’s because you didn’t plan your meals right. If your meeting is a waste of time, it’s because you didn’t come prepared with the right information. If your workouts are not effective, it’s because you didn’t take time to figure out what kind of exercise routine would serve your goals best.

But those who are prepared can face adversity and still move ahead.

The first three steps to preparing for your days come from my book, “The Perfect Day Formula”: Complete a nightly brain dump, create your priority to-do list, and develop a process for reaching your daily goals. (More on that here.)

Success is in preparation. So spend time on it and make it a priority. 

3. Think differently about connections

The beginner thinks: “I will ask someone famous to meet me for coffee and pick their brain about lessons they learned from decades in the industry.”

The successful person thinks: “I will add value and earn the right to an introduction. Better yet, I will become so interesting that the rich and famous will seek me out.” 

A few weeks ago, you might have noticed social media and sales superstar Grant Cardone recommend me on Instagram. “Go and follow Craig Ballantyne,” he said.

Why did he give me a shoutout? Because I gave him value.

I hosted a 10-minute Instagram Live about the five things Grant Cardone is doing right on social media. After the IG Live, I tagged him in my story and told everyone to watch the replay.

Cardone himself watched the video, then he thanked me in his story and told everyone to follow me. 

I got all of that with a simple, two-step process: Add value, then earn the recognition of others.

It’s important to know, however, that I wasn’t fishing for a shoutout. I just added value to Cardone while providing my audience with insight on how to build a successful IG account. Yes, I tagged Cardone, but I didn’t ask for kudos or a push. He just gave it to me. 

My results were earned from thinking differently—adding value, not asking for it. 

4. Think differently about referrals 

The beginner thinks: “People will send referrals to me. I don’t have to ask.”

The successful person thinks: “People want to help, but they are too busy. They will forget to send me referrals unless I remind them, reward them, and make it easy for them.”

Referrals offer an easy, quick source of revenue for your business, but in order for you to enjoy that revenue stream, you need to create a “culture of referrals.”

Here’s how that starts: 

Put together a welcome good basket for all NEW clients of your highest priced program. The basket would include your favorite bars, shakes, a shaker bottle, a T-shirt, a book (like “The Perfect Day Formula”), and a card. With these, include a piece of paper with a reminder to refer clients to you; you can even include a referral script if you think that’s a good fit. 

You must also do this for all of your past clients who have massive “referral potential”—advocates and loyal customers.

Lastly—this part is important—never stop asking for referrals. People WANT to help you, but because they are so busy, they just need to be reminded how they can help.

For example, I “reminded” my awesome client, Joe Arko, about sending referrals last week and he sent me two great prospects. In fact, one has already registered for a workshop, so I’m sending out a $1,000 commission check to Joe that he’s putting in his children’s college fund.

(If you haven’t already read it, there’s a lot more about how to capture referrals in my article from last Wednesday. Read it here.) 

5. Think differently about motivation

The beginner thinks: “I need someone else, like Tony Robbins, Oprah, or Craig Ballantyne to motivate me to action.”

The successful person thinks: “Motivation only comes from within, not from someone else. You must look into your heart to find your why.”

I recently shared my top 10 motivators for daily action, and I believe everyone should have these. What are yours?

6. Think differently about leadership

The beginner thinks: “I can’t be a leader until I’ve earned my stripes. I need to follow.”

The successful person thinks: “I believe my ideas and vision can change my business/industry for the better, so I’m going to stand up and lead that change.”

The reality is, the world needs your voice and vision.

One of my friends, Drew Canole, founder of supplement company Organify, put it this way: “You must always be beating the drum of your vision.”

That vision is what guides the ship that is your business, that gives your employees clarity and purpose, and that brings your customers with you on your journey.

The best way to keep that vision clearly articulated is to lead a Weekly Alignment Meeting with your team (more on that here). Also, be sure to meet with your employees and coworkers one-on-one to discuss goals, frustrations, and how each person in your company serves the vision you’ve laid out.

#

There’s no question that successful people approach life differently than others. They think about each element of their day in a unique way—a way that ensures no opportunity is squandered, no problem left unsolved, no pain untreated.

Coloumbe did it with Trader Joe’s. My friend, Bedros Keuilian, did it with Fit Body Boot Camp. I’m doing it with my coaching and the ever-growing world of Early to Rise.

How will YOU think differently on the path to success?

Keep yourself on the path to success by thinking differently about your mornings…

Sign up now to get our FREE Morning Routine guide—the #1 way to increase productivity, energy, and focus for profitable days. Used by thousands of fitness, business, and finance industry leaders to leapfrog the competition while making time for the people who really matter. Learn more here.

The post 6 Ways Successful People Think Differently appeared first on Early To Rise.

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Thoughts on Pacioretty, Tavares, the Draft, Carlson, Wideman and more (June 25)

  Ramblings: Thoughts on Pacioretty, Tavares, the Draft, Carlson, Wideman and more (June 25)

***

Hope you enjoyed draft weekend, even if the trade action was a bit of a lull. I believe that this year the quality defensemen were in abundance and the forwards were lacking in terms of high-end talent. At least, compared to other years. Obviously these guys are talented so I’m speaking in relative terms. But the salary cap era has teams in such desperate need of cheap help sooner rather than later, you saw many of them take a B-type forward ahead of an A-type defenseman. We had four defensemen ranked in the Top 7 and yet just two actually went in the Top 7. You saw Montreal reach ahead and take the top-ranked center (Jesperi Kotkaniemi) two or three spots above his overall ranking. You saw the Senators grab a forward in Brady Tkachuk who will likely join the team by 2019-20 at the latest, even though they are in serious danger of losing their franchise defenseman. You even saw Arizona grab a forward many outlets had ranked out of the Top 10 – at No.5. I find it curious, because in real hockey as it is in fantasy, defensemen are valued more. This obviously wasn’t about trade value but to me was about getting a guy on their roster within two or three years (forwards) as opposed to three or four years (defensemen).

On the plus side, this allowed some very deserving teams to get their hands on real good quality defensemen. Kudos to Vancouver on getting Quinn Hughes at 7 and to Edmonton for Evan Bouchard at 10. Then again, it also allowed other teams to get quality defensemen as well – such as Chicago getting Adam Boqvist. The Hawks have won enough Cups lately, shouldn’t they suffer for a bit now? I kid.

I’m sure you’ve read all the articles giving Detroit pats on the back for the players that landed in their lap much later than expected. Filip Zadina was ranked third on a lot of lists (including our own in the Fantasy Prospects Report), yet Detroit got him sixth. Joe Veleno was ranked 11th on our list and Detroit got him 30th. But here is the Devil’s Advocate point of view – they got a couple of players who sank for a reason. I don’t question Zadina’s talent. I think that one was luck in that Montreal wanted a center and Ottawa wanted a sure-fire scoring-line player who can help very soon. But now I question Veleno, who has seen his stock fall for almost an entire year now. Reminds me of us celebrating the Penguins for drafting Angelo Esposito back in the day. There was a reason Esposito fell, is there a reason Veleno fell? I’ll let someone else take a chance on Veleno for now in my league.

*

My favorite pick of the first round: Edmonton taking Evan Bouchard

My favorite dark horse pick of the first round: Dallas taking Ty Dellandrea

These are from fantasy standpoints. That’s just how I always think.

*

The big news of the weekend may not have even come from the draft, or from a player moving at all, but rather from a player staying. John Carlson signed with the Capitals for eight years at $8 million per season. On the open market he would have been capped at seven years, unless Washington traded him. But my guess is he would have gotten $8.5 million per. This way he gets that extra season. This deal was made possible, and happened quickly, once the team got Brooks Orpik off the books in the Grubauer trade.

Just a thought, but why wouldn’t a superstar sign for one year at a time? Make $10 million next year, $11 the year after, and $12 the year after. If you’re the top UFA available, you’ll always make the most in the league, right? Then at 31 or 32 you sign your six or seven year deal. Three years from now, Carlson will be 15th or 20th among defensemen for salary and yet he still might be Top 10 in talent. Just thinking aloud here…”rambling”, if you will.

*

Speaking of UFAs, John Tavares has reportedly cut his list down to the following teams: Toronto, San Jose, Dallas, NY Islanders and “possibly” Boston as well as one of Tampa Bay and/or Nashville. Vegas now off the list.

How hard is Lou Lamoriello working to keep Tavares an Islander? Well, he’s following Tavares around California as he interviews with teams. I guess the next step is to start sticking bananas into the exhaust pipe of Doug Wilson’s car to make sure Wilson is late. I love the dedication here – he clearly knows what is riding on this and is acting accordingly. Leave zero to chance.

*

The NHL buyout window ends June 30, which this year is Saturday. Here are the players who are going to be bought out:

Brooks Orpik, COL; Xavier Ouellet, DET;

  And here are the players who have agreed to be released from their contracts unconditionally:

Eric Gryba, EDM; Paul Martin, SJS; Sergey Zborovskiy, NYR;

I don’t know why the above players are allowed to just be released. I understand that they have to also agree to it – but what’s to prevent a team from strong-arming them? Or bribing them with head office jobs? I thought the CBA protected players from this stuff, even at their own detriment at times.

*

Minor trade yesterday – Vancouver traded Michael Chaput to Chicago for Tanner Kero. The latter is signed for the season ahead whereas the former is not, but both are depth players playing in a depth role.

Another minor trade – the Red Wings traded Robbie Russo to the Coyotes for a conditional seventh-round draft pick. That’s about as low a return as possible. Russo is all about offense, so to me he’s the quick replacement in case Trevor Murphy fails to pick up where he left off to end last season. Either way, we’re talking about the No.6 or 7 defenseman with secondary PP time and a bit of upside to move higher. Not unlike what Kevin Connauton brought to the table last season.

*

You’re seeing an interesting power swing this year when it comes to coaches, and this is the domino effect of Mike Babcock leaving the Red Wings on his own terms and making a big pile of money with the Maple Leafs. This past season, unless I’m having a brain fart, saw zero coaches fired. Yes, the two New York teams fired their coaches after the season. But in-season there were zero firings. And in the offseason, two coaches resigned and then signed elsewhere for big money. Now instead of coaches making $500,000 the good ones are starting to make $5 million. And this is happening without a union! Good for them, well deserved. Looks like organizations are thinking twice before firing a coach now.

*

Nikita Soshnikov signed a one-year, one-way deal with the Blues. It’s worth $800,000 so the contract can easily be buried, though he’d have to clear waivers. Playing down the stretch he was only seeing about 10 minutes of ice time per game, his hit totals were disappointing and his linemates were nobody of note.

Chris Wideman was enjoying a great start to his season with eight points in 16 games, with two of those on the power play. But then he suffered a hamstring injury that required season-ending surgery. The 28-year-old was set to become an unrestricted free agent but instead signed with the Senators for $1 million. Not really the defenseman Sens fans were hoping to get signed. The background numbers, based on limited data since he only played 16 games, indicates that his 0.50 points-per-game average was too high for him. But we already knew that. Still, if he can remain healthy he’ll be a 30-point guy. He once had 19 goals and 61 points in the AHL.

*

The Max Pacioretty situation is getting complicated. We all know that he’s on the trade block, and you probably heard that he switched agents on the weekend – Allan Walsh is his new guy. And Friday Pierre LeBrun reported that the Habs had a deal done with the Kings but it hinged on Pacioretty signing an extension and he didn’t so the deal fell through. So perhaps Pacioretty stays now and gets an extension from Montreal. But with Evander Kane getting a ludicrous $49 million deal, that pretty much makes Pacioretty worth a hell of a lot more. Had Kane signed a contract that better reflected his value, then perhaps Pacioretty could have been had for $6.5 million per season. Now the Habs are either forced to trade their captain, or overpay him. There’s really no way for Marc Bergevin to look good here, but at this point his reputation as a GM can’t get any worse.

*

I think Phillip Grubauer will be the starter for the Avs in a year. But this season? It will be messy. I’d expect Semyon Varlamov to get 40-45 starts, Grubauer to get 35-40 and Pavel Francouz to get a couple. That breakdown is a nightmare for fantasy owners. So expect a rough season for owners of the 26-year-old before you finally get stability a year from now.

*

DobberProspects team pages and player profiles have a new look. We’re still fixing the team prospect depth charts to fit different screen sizes, but if you’re on a PC you can check out the teams here. From there you can choose a team and click a player profile. You can see where we’re going with it, even if it’s not 100% ready just yet.

*

At the draft, here is our own Peter Harling (left), Cam Robinson (right) and former Dobber Nation host Andrew Walker (now with the FAN 650)

*

See you next week

    from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-thoughts-on-pacioretty-tavares-the-draft-carlson-wideman-and-more-june-25/

[unixcommerce]

The Art Of Crafting More Powerful Content: 5 Top Tactics from the Experts

Welcome to the second piece in our new multi-part “Collective Wisdom” series of content marketing strategy articles, where you’ll learn proven methods taking you from the beginning of the content planning cycle to its final post-publication conclusion, and featuring insight from some of the world’s most respected and successful digital marketers. Previously in “How to Boost Your Content Marketing Efforts By Planning Ahead,” we looked at implementing a smart and robust content planning strategy. Now it’s time to take a look at the intrinsically important content creation stage of any successful content marketing campaign.

Crafting Powerful Content

As we’ll explore, skillfully crafting content is one of the most important steps on a successful content marketing journey. After all, content is the centerpiece you present to the digital world — so let’s examine some of the strongest tactics to incorporate in your next campaign. [bctt tweet=”“Crafting content is a mélange in which you wear the varied hats of artist, air traffic controller, plumber, magician, statistician, salesman, marketer, and librarian.” — Lane R. Ellis @lanerellis” username=”toprank”]

Tactic 1: Incorporate Appropriate, Effective, and Engaging Visuals

Should you use visual elements in your content? Here’s a hint: Yes! Today’s marketing draws heavily on the use of interesting and compelling images and other visual content to both draw people in and clearly illustrate messages. It’s no surprise that marketers use more visuals of all types — images, animated GIFs, videos, in-content playable games, and others — than ever before. Over time, a barrage of studies have shown their superior ability for us to remember them. Compared to plain text copy, which by some calculations has only about 10% recall after three days, some 65% of visual content stays in our memories after the same period of time, according to Dr. John Medina’s “Brain Rules” and other studies. Furthermore, according to HubSpot research, visual content is over 40 times more likely to be shared on social platforms, and brands have become increasingly creative in using techniques including animated GIFs, such as the good examples shown in “10 brands using beautifully creative GIFs right now.” Videos, graphic presentations, charts and other data visualizations, animated GIFs, stock photos, fine art photos, screenshots, scans, and experimental imagery should all be considered and used to fill your specific content needs. The trick is knowing what to use and where to incorporate it, and understanding your audience helps narrow down the most appropriate and effective visuals for any particular piece of content. [bctt tweet=”“You’ve got seconds to grab your audience’s attention and only minutes to keep it.” — Dr. John Medina @BrainRulesBooks” username=”toprank”] TopRank Marketing Senior Content Marketing Manager Joshua Nite has looked into the importance of choosing dynamic and compelling images to include in written content campaigns, as he deftly explains in “How to Choose Dynamic Images for Your Blog Posts.” [bctt tweet=”“The right visual does more than take up space. It captures attention, creates a little mystery, invites the reader to dig into your carefully-crafted text.” — Josh Nite @NiteWrites” username=”toprank”] Aside from its use in blog posts, great imagery’s power of engagement carries over into the realm of content promotion. “Good visuals are doubly important for amplification, too: Your Twitter, Facebook, and LinkedIn shares will all include an image,” Josh noted. Knowing your intended audience and where they’re most likely to encounter a link to the shiny new content on your website is an important factor in choosing which visual elements will have the greatest pull and engagement. For example, if your audience is clicking on a link to your new blog post or other content primarily on Reddit, the imagery and overall experience those people expect and find engaging is usually quite different than what someone finding your content on LinkedIn in looking for. Use authoritative research on user experience to guide the visual imagery you choose, including the latest statistics on these elements, such as those Jeff Bullas has compiled in his “15 Visual Content Marketing Statistics That’ll Blow Your Mind.” [bctt tweet=”“People will forget what you said, but they will never forget how you made them feel.” — Jeff Bullas @jeffbullas” username=”toprank”]

Tactic 2: Make it Easy For Readers to Share Your Content in the Ways They Prefer

You can have plenty of winning content in place, but without intuitive and expected methods in place to share your carefully-crafted work, it will likely remain largely a content island unto itself — a phenomena Lee Odden calls Invisible Content Syndrome. Every audience has their own preferred means of sharing the things they find and love online. So, part of your content creation process should be to see that these methods are fully implemented, whether its as simple as having easily-found social sharing buttons and functionality, offering click-to-tweet messaging, or as advanced as using automatic copying of shortened and trackable URLs. Heidi Cohen, Chief Content Officer at Actionable Marketing Guide, has gathered together some of her favorite ways of giving readers a variety of ways to share content, in “7 Ways to Get Extra Mileage From Your Blog Posts.” [bctt tweet=”“It’s eye candy that attracts readers by making it easy for them to get the meaning of your post quickly.” — Heidi Cohen @heidicohen” username=”toprank”] More content than ever is including click-to-tweet functionality, as it provides a useful way for readers to quickly and easily share key takeaways or especially insightful quotes, however, it may not be right for your content if your audience is not generally using Twitter.

Tactic 3: Harness the Power of Gamification

Interactive content and entertaining game-based or game-like content, including elements such as quizzes, polls, and surveys, are a proven way to boost engagement and content stickiness, raising time-on-page rates as fast as racking up a high score. According to data from DemandGen, 91% of B2B buyers prefer interactive and visual content, which should come as no great surprise considering that such content stands out and is often a sign of well-thought-out content strategy. Live-streaming platform Twitch has grown to become the twelfth most-visited site in the U.S. according to Alexa data, and its 15-million-plus daily users have helped bring active audience participation into the mainstream, as our own content strategist Nick Nelson detailed recently in his fascinating “How Twitch is Breaking New Ground In Audience Engagement #CMWorld.” Our own Caitlin Burgess recently examined the power of interactive content in “Interactive Content Marketing: Why B2B Marketers Should Take Their Content from Boring to Bold,” a helpful deep-dive into not only why this form of content creates such strong engagement, but how to best use it in your content marketing campaigns. [bctt tweet=”“The real opportunity with #interactivecontent doesn’t lay in the interactivity itself. The real value creation is in the excitement or connection that you can make with your audience.” — Caitlin Burgess @CaitlinMBurgess” username=”toprank”] Or, as Liraz Rahmin Postan noted in her look at gamification for Outbrain: “As content marketers, it’s so important to keep your audience engaged and motivated to keep going. Fun, game-based and interactive content does this really well.” Gamification can include video, as our team did ahead of this year’s Content Marketing World conference, with retro 8-bit videos featuring event speakers: TopRank Marketing digital strategy director Ashley Zeckman shows the entire series of video in “Ready Player One: Top CMWorld Speakers Dish Go-To Classic Content Marketing Combos.”

Tactic 4: Run With Traditional On-Page SEO Tactics

Crafting content wouldn’t be complete without using longstanding, tried-and-true SEO tactics such as basic metadata, some of which are so fundamental that they should always be used. Some of the same metadata elements I first used in 1993 during the pre-Google days are still wise to incorporate, including the ubiquitous-but-important HTML title and description tags. Eighty-two percent of marketing influencers say that the effectiveness of SEO is generally increasing, according to MarketingProfs and Octos statistics. Our own CEO, Lee Odden, explores some of these fundamental SEO questions in his “Power Pages and Best Answer Content: Should You Go Long or Short Form?” In addition, SparkToro’s Rand Fishkin, co-founder of Moz, also takes a look at just what SEO means today in his helpful piece “What Does It Mean to “Write for SEO” in 2018?” [bctt tweet=”“There’s no reason you have to use this old-school junk methodology that became like pseudoscience in the SEO world and had a recent revival. You should be using words & phrases that Google has related to a particular keyword.” — @randfish” username=”toprank”] SEO is so ingrained in the structure of the web that it’s been surprising to hear it being given the last rites by some in the industry. However, from our perspective, SEO is not only still a viable tactic, but also necessary — you just need to put the time into thoughtfully analyzing the data so you can pull actionable insights. [bctt tweet=”“Every marketer has access to this data. It’s time to analyze it and use it to inform your content strategy to create customized, relevant, and insightful content that is more valuable to your target audience.” — @annieleuman” username=”toprank”]

Tactic 5: Creativity Is Key For Making Best-Answer Content That Stands Out

No matter how many technical tricks or contraptions you use in a content marketing campaign, the road will be a long uphill one if you don’t present creative and useful information that fills a need for your audience. Being the best answer is the key tenet of Lee’s “Be the Best Answer: 5 Steps to Grow Influence for Your Brand,” which shows how creating or co-creating relevant and credible content is a vitally important step in a successful digital marketing campaign. [bctt tweet=”“Influence plays an important role in a ‘Best Answer’ marketing strategy.” — Lee Odden @leeodden” username=”toprank”] The best content creation involves both art and creativity, as comic author Scott Adams once summed up by pointing out that, “Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep,” or as artist Paul Klee said, “One eye sees, the other feels.” The greater the creativity you and your team have, the more of an an edge you can have on the competition, and creative content draws audiences in, entertains, and when done well, enlightens. It’s one of the main ways to differentiate your content.

Tying It All Together — What Next?

By incorporating appropriate, effective, and engaging visuals, making sharing easy, harnessing the power of gamification, using fundamental SEO tactics, and offering best-answer content, your content marketing will include the elements that give your strategy a much better chance at success. These aren’t the only elements you’ll want to include in your content crafting tool bag, however, and next up we’ll take a close look at another group of important content creation tactics as we continue our “Collective Wisdom” series. In the meantime learn more by catching us at an upcoming conference or webinar, including these four:

Pubcon Las Vegas 2018 on October 17 in Las Vegas — “5 Secrets to Growing Influence in Marketing”

ITSMA Marketing Vision 2018 on November 7 in Cambridge, MA. — “Influence the Influencers – How B2B technology companies can build brand awareness with content and influence ”

MarketingProfs 2018 Marketing B2B Forum on November 15 in San Francisco — “The Confluence Equation: How Content & Influencers Drive B2B Marketing Success”

The post The Art Of Crafting More Powerful Content: 5 Top Tactics from the Experts appeared first on Online Marketing Blog – TopRank®.

http://www.toprankblog.com/

The post The Art Of Crafting More Powerful Content: 5 Top Tactics from the Experts appeared first on Unix Commerce.

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2CLvUvX via IFTTT