#Pawn Shop in Bay Area

[estates-consignments]

Signs Your Luxury Watch Needs Professional Servicing

Luxury watches have long been a statement of class, taste, and craftsmanship, apart from being one of the most functional accessories loved by men and women equally. Owning a luxury watch has long been considered the exhibition of one’s taste and admiration towards the finesse of life. However, being a luxury watch owner, you must be responsible for its well-being. Unlike regular watches, luxury timepieces occasionally require special attention to maintain their glory.

[ughohyoumadeafunny]

Rewriting Transformers ( 2007) (Part 1)-

So you already know I'm not to big of a fan of the bay films like many. I know people like the first, but as time passed they got so bad.

So I'm doing this as a bit of rewrite to be more like a sequel to the 1980's transformers film.

I'll add new characters and so I don't have to say it alot, I would make sure that we use either prime or g1 design with a hint of cg so we don't have to experience weird spit/...questionable wrecking balls. If we still have to keep Bay as a part of this, keep him in the action scenes and effects area, do not put him as director.

Alright, I'll stop talking about my criticism and ideas, let's got to the first part of the plot.

Part 1-

We open with a shot of a forest area showing the words 1984 on screen, nearby is a valcano, which seconds later erupts. We then see shots of a drone fly across a city scanning jet planes, cars, tanks etc. We're then shown teletran one using the surving repair bay to fix the bots inside. We then get a shot at the autobot logo, leading to our tittle card.

About 51 years pass, making it the year 2035. It's the city of Washington, the place looks somwhat like a mix of the 1980's future city movie, but also a mix of modern day. There's more clean energy, but there are signs this isn't a utopia. We see a billboard for a company getting spraypainted, we see a man begging for money by playing music, we even a preach calling out about ' The end days'.

We see a college women getting off the bus. She seems to be in her Early 20's, and has her blond hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

As she walks, she enters a pawn shop run by her aunt. " Alice, your home early. " her aunt says to her.

" Class ended early.." Alice said tired

" Oh honey, do you need anything? Why nit take the day off and let me handle the store?." Her aunt says concerned.

" No aunt june...I'm fine, I just need to put my stuff away." Alice says

We head upstairs to see her room is simple, a bed, a small closet, a retro dresser, and a old desk. On the desk we see a photo of her mom and dad, we have no idea what happened to them. " Busy day at camp dad." Alice tells the photo.

[jeffbecerra]

I still have this bass from the 80s. I sold it in the late 80s because I was broke. My friend (ex roadie) Bob bought it from the pawn shop and left it to me in his will (RIP). #destroyer #possessed #jeffbecerrabass (at San Francisco Bay Area) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cos4banPNzU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[chrancecriber]

Radio SunLounge Romania (March 18, 2023)

23:58 Michael E - Song For The Sky 23:57 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 23:52 Kruder & Dorfmeister - Original Bedroom Rockers 23:48 Lenny Ibizarre - Pretty As You Feel (Original Mix) 23:43 Mark Oakland - Sunny 23:37 Bent - Star Of Loneliness 23:32 Villablue Feat. Juanita Grande - If I Could Tell You 23:29 Sphere - Is It Sun- (Original Mix) 23:24 Nofilter Feat. Furns - Just A Fling (Original Mix) 23:21 Raffunk - Travel (Lemongrass Couch Remix) 23:15 Climatic - Hazy Days 23:10 Chris Coco - Summertime 23:05 River - Find Me 22:59 4 Wings - Penelope (Original Mix From Cafe' Del Mar) 22:55 Emancipator - Jet Stream 22:52 Dreamhunter - Bring The Light 22:46 Green Lemon - Voz Interior (Meditation Mix) 22:42 Terrace Chillerz - These Golden Fields (Ibiza Smooth Sax Mix) 22:41 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 22:37 Gold Lounge - Oh La La 22:33 Setsuna - White Light 22:30 Vibrasphere Feat. K. Linder - Tierra Azul 22:27 Il Greco - De Longpre 22:24 Velvet Lounge Project - A Little Bit Longer 22:21 Irene Love - Lounge Chair 22:17 Waldeck - Memories 22:12 Gemini Rising, Tensnake, Fiora - Let It Go By 22:07 Headstrong - Love Until It Hurts (Original) 22:03 Orbitell - Dive (Ibiza Beach Mix) 21:56 Twentyeight - Monday Night 21:50 Koop - Relaxin' At Club F****n (Dorfmeister Vs. Madrid De Los Austrias) 21:46 Hrrsn - Hi Bob 21:43 Nikki Ocean - Rude 21:39 Yan C - A Night In Paradise 21:32 Bandorkestra 55 & Marco Castelli & Max Porcelli - Evolution 21:32 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 21:26 Max Melvin - Event (Sunset Mix) 21:23 Bes & Meret - La Danse (Florito Mix) 21:18 Frank Borell - Alema (Step By Step Mix) 21:14 Minus Blue - Too Far To Speak (Original Mix) 21:10 Tears - Cicada 21:05 Sigh - The Bomb 20:59 Spooky - Strange Addiction 20:56 Avalounge Feat. Katia Shostak - Sunny Dreams (Relaxation Dub) 20:53 Velvet Birds - Come Along 20:48 Frank Borell - Beauty Lights (Sentimental Mix) 20:42 Dj Kay - The New Mango Tree 20:36 Miguel Migs - The Night (Rk's Vocal Mix) 20:35 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 20:32 Kenny Fontana - Your Name (Pacha Terrace Edit) 20:26 Smooth Deluxe - Medina 20:21 Max Melvin - Underneath 20:15 Velvet Dreamer - Mystic Traveller (Eskadet Remix) 20:15 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 20:11 V - Sta - Rainy Day Feat. Jody Purita (Original Mix) 20:06 Bay Area - White Canaria (Laid Back Session) 20:01 Dream Pawn Shop - We Are Looking For Love (Vocal Chill Mix) (Ft. Shima Premal) 19:57 Marga Sol - Desedena (Instrumental Mix) 19:51 The Sura Quintet - Linda Tarde 19:47 Living Room - Maui Pie 19:43 Lazy Hammock - Deep Sunday Bliss 19:38 James Bright, Rachel Lloyd - Through The Night (Original Mix) 19:32 Marga Sol - Free Your Mind 19:26 Mo'jardo - Now & Then 19:23 Atb Feat. Jansoon - Be Like You 19:17 The Man Behind C. - Make You Mine 19:13 Angel Tibetan - Brings 19:09 Chris Le Blanc Feat. Miss Luna - Into My Dream 19:04 Dj Maretimo - Sardinia Sailor (Small Waves Cut) 19:02 Lemongrass - Loving You 18:55 Skysurfer - Circling Elements Feat. Lovay (Down By The Sea Mix) 18:49 Lounge Deluxe - Good Time Girl 18:46 Endless Blue - Isiro (Original Mix) 18:41 Max Melvin - Ease 18:36 Mahoroba - Violet Dreams (Space Pioneers Mix) 18:32 Lasteden - Hot City Walk (Original Mix) 18:28 Krystian Shek, Surya - Habitat 18:21 Vladi Strecker - Over The Sea (Island Sounds Deluxe Mix) 18:21 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 18:15 Dj Maretimo - Cosmopolitan Cocktail (Feat. Cafe Americaine) (Mix La Nuit) 18:12 Armand Frydman - Nice Cote D'azur 18:06 Emmanuele Landini, Denny V - Emotion 18:00 Wen Feat. Misal - Call Me 17:56 Afterlife - Shine 17:52 Living Room - Aqua 17:46 Wen - Call Me 17:41 Vargo - Precious Part One 17:41 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 17:36 Purple Avenue - Love & Sex & Magic 17:31 Merge Of Equals - Take You There 17:26 Leonie Meijer - Message In A Bottle 17:22 Edo - Heaven 17:21 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 17:19 Olivia Broadfield - Eyes Wide Open 17:13 Real Meets Unreal - Unending Fields 17:07 Eddy Chrome - In Love (Lounge Remix) 17:03 Frost - Amygdala 16:57 Boot Cut Rockers - Blue Beach 16:51 White Flag - The Light In The Distance Feat. Mkay (Darjeeling Banghra Mix) 16:47 Brook Sapphire - Be Chilled (Original Edit) 16:43 Phobos - Elixir For Sunsets 16:38 Soundset City - Get It On (Deep Lounge Mix) 16:34 Marie Therese - White Air 16:28 Bliss - Desert Sun 16:23 Roberto Sol - Gentle Reminder 16:20 Velvet Lounge Project - Dime Que Hacer 16:15 Madelin Zero - Anything Perfect 16:12 Max Melvin - Event 16:08 Lazygrooves - Secrets 16:07 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 16:03 Sky Sergeant - Hawaii Island Hoppers (Beachwave Cruiser Mix) 15:58 Steen Thottrup - Satellite (Feat. Denver Knoesen) 15:55 Dreamweaver - Delicate Emotions (Island Mix) 15:49 Mathieu - Maha - Amba 15:49 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 15:46 Bondax - All I Want (Pyxis Remix) 15:42 Five Seasons - In Your Town 15:39 Gary B - Song For Kaye 15:33 Sweet Velvet - From Within (Sensual Soulful Cafe Buddha Mix) 15:28 Blue Wave - Sea Of Blossoms 15:24 Marie Therese - White Air 15:18 The Dream Catchers - Flower Of Spring (Suntheca Lounge Mix) 15:12 Channel Two - Across Waters 15:07 El Rubello - And I Love Her 15:02 Blackfish - Bay Of Islands 14:57 Vernon, Matthew Kramer - Sunshine (Louie Chandler Remix) 14:52 Brazilindo - Chuva De Verao (Original Mix) 14:51 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 14:46 Aquarius - Candles In Love 14:41 Breathalize - So Come With Me (Spheric Mood Vocal Mix) 14:35 Coastline - Adriatic Sea 14:31 Freemasons - Love On My Mind (Feat. Amanda Wilson) (Freemasons After Hours Mix) 14:26 Climatic - For No Reason At All 14:21 Ferreck Dawn, Robosonic & Nikki Ambers - In My Arms (Afterlife Mix) 14:15 Bk Duke - Did You Know - Ibiza Chillout Mix 14:12 Christophe Goze - Memory Of You 14:11 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 14:07 Marie Therese - Sea Of Mind 14:03 Vincenzo - Today 13:58 Paul Hardcastle - Slippin Away (Feat. Maxine Hardcastle) 13:54 Steen Thottrup - Sunset People 13:48 Euphonic Traveller - Like The First Moment 13:44 Gabin Feat. Peggy Lee - Fever (Gabin Remix) 13:39 Soundset City - Just Lovely (Lounge Groove Mix) 13:32 Schiller - Velvet Aeroplane 13:32 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 13:26 Jjos & Fede Garcia & Deary's - Foolish Game (Evolution Vocal Mix) 13:21 Billy Paul Williams - As A Child 13:16 Goloka - Give Me Lovin (Mantra Mix) 13:12 Conjure One - Sleep 13:11 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 13:06 Bliss - Desert Sun 13:01 The Shadowboxers - I Can't Stop Thinking About You 12:56 Afterlife - Breakfast At Benirras 12:52 Idenline - Carry Heart 12:45 Green Lemon Feat. Magica Fe - 11 O'Clock (The Man Behind C. Edit) 12:39 Mark Otten - Tranquility 12:33 Polished Chrome - 2night 12:30 Leonardo Bortolotto - Redford (Original Mix) (Original Mix) 12:26 Blank & Jones W. Jason Caesar - Pura Vida 12:20 Christa Vi - Small Way Through (Cosmonaut Grechko Version) 12:16 Pensees - Intro 12:12 Sarah Menescal - Angels 12:06 Cafe Americaine - Metropolitan Girl (Round The World Mix) 12:00 The Man Behind C. - Como Aire Cristalino (Latin Mix) 11:55 Pascal Dubois - Anyway (Deep Outside Session) 11:50 Orbitell - Liquid Sunshine (Ibiza Chillout Mix) 11:46 River - Find Me 11:40 Frank Borell - Icarus (Electric Slide Mix) 11:34 Sunyata Project - Sudden Moments (Extended Mix) 11:29 Eriq Johnson & Movox Feat. Marga Sol - Noname Story (Original Mix) 11:25 Jens Buchert - Moonlight (Feat. Barbara Zanetti) 11:20 Lazygrooves - Secrets 11:17 Consoul Trainin Feat Joan Kolova - Beautiful (Kosmopolitans Mix) 11:11 Angela Puxi - Padapapapaa 11:07 Simon Le Grec - Coming Back To Give 11:02 Sky Sergeant - Hawaii Island Hoppers (Beachwave Cruiser Mix) (Beachwave Cruiser Mix) 10:57 Steen Thottrup - Heading For The Sunrise 10:51 Ganga - Cold Wind Blowing 10:46 Florzinho - The Indian 10:40 Ali Slaight - Hey You 10:34 Max Melvin - Flying High 10:29 Boot Cut Rockers - Deep In Our Heart 10:22 Sweet Velvet - In My Dreams 10:19 Cafe Royale - Huelva 10:14 Loungebox - Love Is Always 10:07 Vibrasphere Feat. Iz - Tierra Azul (Vocal Version) 10:02 Emotional - My Way (Jazzomatic Mix) 09:57 Charles Webster - The Gift Of Freedom (High Skies Mix) 09:54 Aiemo - Dreaming Eyes (Vocal Mix) 09:49 York - My Ship 09:45 Fair Light Ranger - Brighten Up Life (Original Mix) 09:40 Merge Of Equals - Don't You Know 09:33 Mo-' Horizons - Superworld 09:29 Ganga - The Wind (Feat. Helle Chirholm) 09:23 Christos Fourkis - If You Love Me 09:18 Blue Pilots Project - Vivere 09:13 Pnfa - Fight The Feeling 09:06 Aaron The Baron Feat Markus Puhl - A Tu Lado 09:02 Melorman - Behaviour (Melorman Remix) 08:58 Ambience D'orama - Liniya Priboya 08:54 Yantra Mantra - Pink City (Ayurveda Mix) 08:51 Sandra - Footprints 08:51 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 08:47 Henry Green - Shift 08:43 Cafe Americaine - Jade Dream (Asia Fly Cut) 08:37 Kieser.velten Feat. Jen - Together 08:33 Derail - Freedom - Deep Mix 08:28 Two Heroes - Leave Me 08:23 Pablo Nouvelle - You Don-'t Understand (Feat. Alx) 08:19 Cafe Americaine - L Amour 08:15 Jazzamatazz - Burning Man (Rhythms Del Mundo Version) 08:15 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 08:09 Man In A Room - Something 08:05 Dj Antoine - I'll Never Let You Down (Soft Mix) 08:01 Omar Akram - Free Spirit 07:58 Sweatson Klank - With Respect 07:54 Lemongrass Feat. Skadi - Habla Mi Corazon (Original Mix) 07:47 Cinematic - Empty Room (Daydreaming Mix) 07:41 Kid Coconutz - Take On Me 07:37 Florentine - Feels Like (Ibiza Beach Mix) 07:37 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 07:32 Dj Maretimo - Sun Addicted (Pure Beach Cut) 07:23 Ricky Martini - Noale 07:16 Bitter Sweet - Kelebek 07:16 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 07:10 Blank & Jones - Unknown Treasure (With Claudia Brucken) 07:07 Waldeck - No One Here... 06:59 Levitation - More Than Ever People (Original) 06:55 Jazzamor - Tonight 06:50 Lemongrass, Jane Maximova - I Miss You 06:44 Beach Hoppers - Keep Dreaming (Eskadet Moonlight Version) 06:39 Gary B - A Better Life 06:36 Lee & Sun - Underwater 06:32 Tojami Sessions - The Next Ten Years 06:27 Lisa Shaw - I'm Ok 06:21 Lenny Mac Dowell - Winter Fantasies 06:17 Cu - So Fine 06:17 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 06:12 Chillbirds - Breaking Out (Beach Mix) 06:08 Kool&klean - Reality 06:05 J.p. Juice - Fukai 06:01 El Rubello - And I Love Her 05:56 Urban Phunk Society - Changing Spaces 05:51 Ikon - No Reason To Stay 05:46 Mirage Of Deep - Manhattan 3 25 Am 05:41 Flashbaxx - Escape Hawaii Go Ibiza 05:38 Sebastian Davidson - Yugen (Original Mix) 05:35 Ivan Nasini, Danilo Gariani - Albatros (Original Mix) 05:32 Miss B.t - Right Now (Sweet Lovin' Edit) 05:26 Smooth Deluxe - My Sunny Day 05:23 Duane Alpert - Cool Experience (Laurent Paradise Mix) 05:20 Minty's Style - See The Light 05:14 351 Lake Shore Drive - All Around Me 05:10 Rithma - Builder (Kaskade Let's Make Out Mix) 05:10 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 05:06 Hysteria! - Winding Roads 05:01 Hawke (And The Lady) - Sad And Blue 04:56 Ibiza Sunset - Be Suspended 04:50 Marcus Koch - Into The Blue 04:45 Velvet Dreamer - Footprints In The Sand 04:39 Miguel Migs - Breakin-' It Down 04:34 The Dining Rooms - Existentialism (Milano Dub Mix) 04:31 Simon Le Grec & Denise Guttenbach - This Time 04:25 Jaffa - Be Nude, Baby 04:23 Alice Shelton - Jumping Lounge 04:19 Ituana - It's A Fever 04:14 The New Mastersounds Feat. Corinne Bailey Rae - Your Love Is Mine 04:13 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 04:10 Dharma - Probedas 04:06 Luke Standing - The Hushed Love 04:00 Spooky - Strange Addiction 03:57 Soulchef - California 03:51 Man In A Room - Brave This Moment 03:41 Fridrik Karlsson - Chillout Zone 03:36 Jazz L'amour - Summer Dreams (See The Light Mix) 03:31 Barcelona - Fall In Love (Green Relax Edit) 03:31 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 03:24 Jozef Kugler - Shaggy (Original Mix) 03:17 Max Melvin - Freeze 03:13 Blank & Jones - Puerta Del Sol 03:08 Brook Sapphire - My Name In The Sand (Original Mix) 03:04 Worldbeat Feat. Miyabi - Sakura (Original Mix) 02:59 Fairlight - Te Amo (Feat. Linda Lowe) 02:53 Diario Feat. Entelechia Union - Do You Remember Me 02:48 Michael E - It's Going To Be Alright 02:44 Chris Le Blanc - Now And Zen 02:38 Cafe Americaine - Marina Beach (Guitar Flow Mix) 02:32 Gods Blue Chest - Close To The Sun 02:27 Solarflow - Always Yours 02:22 G-spliff - Won't Part 02:16 Dubdiver - Surya Mangalam 02:11 Stereo Dub - Luna De Alegrias 02:06 Darshan - Listen 02:06 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 02:00 Aqua Mundi - Beautiful Awaking (Original Mix) 01:57 C.cil - Sunset 01:53 Jazzamor - Sunday 01:49 Anthony Hicks, Melody. - Chase The Sunshine (Feat. Melody) 01:49 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 01:44 Blank & Jones - Good 01:40 Thievery Corporation - Web Of Deception 01:32 Zeequencha - So Alive (Feat. Liz Kretschmer) 01:27 Man In A Room - The Confidential 01:26 Jingle - Radiosun.ro 01:22 Roberto Sol - Won-'t Give Up - Cafe Del Mar Mix 01:20 The Dining Rooms - Dreamy Smiles 01:15 Bliss Feat Lisbeth Scott - Mivahetsek 01:10 Boozoo Bajou - Second To None 01:05 Princess Of Lounge - We Found Love 01:01 Dzihan & Kamien - Drophere 00:56 D.batistatos & Side Liner - Sehnsucht 00:51 Evolve - Well I Gotta Story 00:45 Craig Armstrong - This Love 00:40 Nor Elle - On The Roof 00:36 Lounge Groove Avenue - Don't Be So Shy 00:32 Deephouse 84 - A Night On The Beach 00:26 Obersoundz - Escucha (Lounge Mix) 00:22 Stephane Pompougnac Feat. Juliette Oz - Fast & Loud 00:16 Saba & Cay - What A Feeling 00:10 Jp - Juice - Cette Planete (Sushi Club Remix) 00:04 Sunyata Project - I Know Him (Extended Mix) 00:00 M-seven - Unspoken

[angst-fairygodmother]

Tinsel: All Aglow (A Light Fingers Christmas Special 2/2)

Read Chapter 1 here: First Christmas A/N: We go from happy Christmas fluff to angsty sort of plot relevant stuff. But still kind of soft? Word Count: 2314 Content Warnings: discussion of childhood poverty, social workers, implied/referenced child abuse and neglect (past), references to drugs Cross-posted to AO3: here

“Hey, Y/N,” Klaus asked after the others had left, having stuck around to help with clean up the party and have the chance to get to know you better. “You look really familiar. Have we met before?”

“What?” you asked, frowning in confusion, at the same time Diego did with a seemingly affronted tone, one you knew was a cover for his insecurity at being reminded of your colorful acquaintances.

“Yeah. Yeah, I definitely do. I’d recognize that adorable face anywhere. It’s the eyes I think…I just can’t figure out where from…”

You grimaced. You could think of a lot of places a junkie might know you from: pawn shops, back alleys, sketchy clubs, your fence’s house, to name just a few. Luckily Eudora was long gone, so reference to your illegal activities wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it came up, but honestly you didn’t want to be reminded of them tonight of all nights, not after the evening had gone so well up until now. 

“The mausoleum!” he suddenly shouted with a snap of his fingers.

“What?” Diego asked with real confusion now. 

Klaus turned excitedly to Diego. “Remember, I swore you and Ben to secrecy because Dad would have been so pissed? The girl, the one that glowed and kept me company when Dad locked me up, and helped hold the ghosts at bay?”

“I always thought you were making that up. Or that it was a friendly ghost that made the others back off somehow. I never…You’re telling me it was Y/N?”

He turned back to you for confirmation. You studied Klaus, the pinch of your eyebrows as you concentrated creating that cute little furrow that was of Diego’s favorite quirks of yours. 

“Oh!” you cried suddenly, remembering. 

You had snuck into one of the creepy old buildings in the graveyard near your family’s home to hide from the woman discussing “removal.” You were just making yourself comfortable in one of the cubbies, meant for coffins and just tall enough to sit in, when the doors were thrown wide and a boy about your age had stumbled in. 

“Three hours,” a voice which later haunted your nightmares had barked. “Maybe by then you will have learned that death is to be controlled, not feared.”

The boy was crying. You felt terrible. So you made yourself glow, though it was hard without much to draw from, and poked your head out of your hiding spot. He screamed and started crying more. It took quite a bit to calm him down and explain that you weren’t a ghost or a monster, and then he’d explained that he could see ghosts but they terrified him and his father was unhappy with him because of it. 

“Your dad is a bully, and when he comes back, I’ll kick him,” you offered your new friend. 

While he hadn’t accepted that offer, he had the one to come back again in case he was ever thrown in there again, and to shed a little light while he was there (even though it made you feel sleepy and sick to keep it up for so long. It wasn’t like your new friend needed to know that, and he needed your power more than enough to make it worthwhile). 

It was no surprise, really, that you hadn’t recognized Klaus. He looked extremely different from his childhood self. It wasn’t a bad look by any means, but it certainly wasn’t the round-cheeked, freckle-faced and crying boy you had known. And it had been so long ago, a friendship that had ended when you were about seven, after one incident where you'd nearly been caught and he had been more scared of what his father might do to you than he was of the dark and the ghosts. He had insisted that he never wanted to see you again, and not knowing yet how to fight for the things that mattered, you had let him push you away.  

“Huh,” you finally said, acknowledging the accusation. “Small world.”

“You knew Klaus? Why didn’t you say anything?” Diego asked, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. 

“To be honest, I didn’t realize...I sort of forgot,” you said, hoping to brush the whole thing aside. “I try not to think about...roughly ages four to nine. It wasn’t a good time to be me.”

Diego raised an eyebrow and you knew he wouldn’t let it go, so you sighed.

“Look. It was after Dad died. Mom wasn’t doing well emotionally, and money was tight. Apparently when your kids constantly show up to school with no breakfast in them and no lunch, and their jeans are held together with strips of duct tape because a roll of that is cheaper than trying to get new clothes, it raises questions about parental fitness. There were a lot of social workers in and out of my life, and I spent a lot of time running away. Can we not talk about this on Christmas?” you asked quickly, your voice tight, before turning to Diego’s brother. “Where are you staying tonight Klaus? Our couch is available if you don’t already have a place.”

“I’d love to crash at yours, if my brother doesn’t mind,” Klaus said, offering you a hesitant smile. 

“He doesn’t,” you replied determinedly, and both brothers glanced at each other over your head, a silent conversation about your sudden terseness and the ways they might be able to help. 

~

Later that night, the three of you sat around the apartment, earlier tension forgotten. Your back rested against Diego's shins from your seat on the floor, head falling on his knees as you threw it back in laughter from some story Klaus was telling about when they were children and he and Diego had started some sort of prank war with Ben (secretly supported by Five or Vanya or maybe both, Diego had said he suspected). It made you happy to hear about the good times, that they had still found ways to be children despite their harsh upbringing. 

“The way he stuck to the honey in his mattress was so worth having mine taken away for a month,” Klaus concluded, laughing and oblivious to the horror widening your eyes. 

Diego’s fingers combed unconsciously through your hair, massaging your scalp. You started to feel calmer with each pass, matching your breathing to his movements. The physical contact grounded you, reminding you that, despite everything, you had both made it through and made it here. 

“It couldn’t have all been like that though...right?” you asked hesitantly. “There must have been just average days where you got to be normal kids?”

“We were allowed to have fun on Saturdays,” Diego was quick to assure you.

“For a whole half hour!” Klaus chimed in, still laughing, false cheerfulness radiating a sharp sting of bitterness. “And on special occasions, Mom made chocolate chip pancakes.” He paused, seeming to listen to something. “Yeah. I think Ben’s funeral was the last time we had any.”

“Oh.” 

You sighed, leaning as far into Diego as possible, as if he could give you strength, or you could give him back the peace he had been robbed of pretty much from birth.

“I used to envy you, growing up,” you admitted. “I thought if I had been adopted things would have been better. But really I just wouldn’t have known how bad they were. There really wasn’t a not shitty end of the deal, was there?”

Silence fell over the three of you, uncomfortable and awkward. 

“It’s okay though,” Klaus said eventually, shifting nervously and picking at his nails. “We survived it, figured out to be functioning - semi-functioning - adults. And never have to go back.”

“Right,” Diego said and you felt his body shift as he nodded at his brother. “It’s just a thing in our pasts. Everyone’s got...stuff.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess.”

“Hey is there any of that roast left? I’m starving,” Klaus said, standing to climb over the back of the couch and wander toward the kitchen. 

You stared after him, unsure if he was serious or just trying to lighten the mood. When you shifted your gaze to Diego questioningly, he just shrugged.

“It should be in the container with the blue lid,” he told Klaus, waving vaguely at the fridge.

~

The three of you talked (one might even have dared to call it bonded) long into the night. It was past midnight when Diego finally bowed out, practically asleep on the couch already before he stumbled off to bed. You took his spot, sitting cross-legged and facing Klaus at the other end of the couch, and the pair of you continued to talk for at least another hour.

“Y/N, you should sleep,” Klaus eventually suggested. “You look exhausted, and it’s no surprise, with everything you did today, and putting up with my brother all the time to boot.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you sighed. “I’ll go grab you some stuff to sleep and be right back.”

Quietly you slipped past the screen into the darkened bedroom area and frowned, scolding yourself internally for not doing this before Diego was in bed. He was a light sleeper and got so little of it on a regular basis, and though you could adjust the light to not wake him, it was an imperfect solution. Trying not to disturb your sleeping husband (the word still felt weird and wonderful to wrap your head around and you couldn’t help but smile), you lit your hand with a faint glow and dug through the bins beneath your bed to find your spare bedding. 

“You really don't have to worry about it, Y/N,” Klaus whispered, having followed you to the doorway, trying to wave off your efforts. “The couch alone is better than I've had lately. I can just use my coat as a blanket.”

“Absolutely not,” you hissed back determinedly. “You are a guest in my home. I want you to be comfortable, not just 'good enough.'”

He opened his mouth to protest and you held up a finger warningly. 

“Klaus, be smarter than Diego, and know that you can’t argue with me and win. Especially not over something as simple as me finding the spare bedding.”

His mouth shut with a dramatic popping sound that made you tense as Diego stirred in the bed.

“Go wait in the living room before you wake him up,” you asked, “please? He’s tired enough as it is most days.”

You felt more than saw Klaus’s eyes as he studied you for a moment before nodding and, shockingly, doing as he was told. A few minutes later, you emerged once more, handing Klaus a pile of bedding. 

“Blanket, light sheet, pillow,” you said, patting the pile. “I can grab another blanket if you need, if this won’t be warm enough. I have like a hundred of them.”

“No, this will be fine,” he said sincerely. “I sleep warm anyway. I think it’s the nightmares. Or the drugs.”

“Riiight. Are you sure you’re good? You don’t need anything else? Glass of water? More food? Cup of tea?”

He laughed, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders. “Relax, Y/N. I appreciate it, but I’m fine. If I need a drink, I’ll raid the kitchen later. I have everything I need. More than I deserve.”

“That’s not--” he put a finger to your lips dramatically, stopping you short as you squinted in confusion at him, going cross-eyed to try and look at the offending digit.

“Don’t try to argue it. It’s a lifetime of a feeling. But I appreciate you trying. And everything you’ve done, then and now.”

You cocked your head softly. “You know, that offer to kick your father remains on the table.”

He grinned.

“But maybe we should table that discussion for tomorrow, it’s getting late. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Actually, I’ll be gone then,” Klaus said in a tone clearly meant to be reassuring. “Before you wake up, if my brother’s smart enough to take a day off or learn that there’s no reason in general to get up with the crack of dawn. Especially with a beautiful woman in his bed.” He shot you an exaggerated wink.

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You don’t have to, Klaus. You can stay for a while. Days, weeks, whatever.”

“You’re sweet. But you don’t really want me around.”

“Of course I do,” you insisted, frowning at how casually he said such a thing. “We do. You’re family.”

“I don’t think anyone with the last name of Hargreeves really knows what that means.”

“Actually, I took your brother’s name when we got married so…” you shrugged.

Klaus laughed and you smiled. 

“I’m serious though,” you pushed. “Diego will never admit it because he’s stubborn and dumb, but he cares about you, and worries. And I think he misses you.”

Suddenly, Klaus’s long arms were wrapped around you, hugging you fiercely. There were tears in his voice when he next spoke. 

“Thank you, Y/N. That means...a lot. And hey, take care of him, will you? He’s gonna get himself killed otherwise.”

“Of course I will, Klaus,” you said, hugging him back. “I do kinda love him.”

The pair of you pulled away to share a smile, and somewhere deep inside, you felt the stirrings of your ancient friendship awakening from hibernation. After a moment, you shook yourself.

“Anyway, I’ll let you get some sleep. And if you happen to stick around, I’ll make pancakes in the morning. See if I can’t scrounge up some chocolate chips?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Y/N. I’ll think about it.”

You chuckled, before flicking off most (leaving the one above the sink to help ease his fear of the dark) of the lights. “Goodnight, Klaus.”

[ajroberson]

It's been over two months since someone snatched my camera bag from a rental car and stole my camera, two lenses, and the battery charger pack from me while I was visiting San Francisco with my Uncle and his friend Rob. We had just gotten back from a tour of Alcatraz and I had only left the bag in the car for 15 minutes while the three of us walked up the street to a restaurant to meet my cousin and a girl that he wanted to introduce to us. 15 minutes is all it took. Afterwards I figured that either the person had been watching me handle the equipment before I left it in the car, or they had been driving the car that was parked behind ours and took the opportunity to grab my things before driving off. I've since learned that San Francisco has a problem with this kind of thing and if I ever visit the city again I will keep this in mind and keep my belongings on me, but even so the fact that someone did this to ME, in the midst of a vacation where I had shot beautiful photos of Seattle at both day and night, from street level, Pike market, and the Space Needle, and where I had taken pictures of my first time seeing snow capped mountains in person after a long grueling hike in the evening BURNS ME TO MY FUCKING CORE. I WANT MY SHIT BACK. I filed a police report of course and even though I've called them multiple times to get updates as far as I can tell there has been no progress. I've even taken to scouring ebay, Amazon, and I've called what has to be over 20 pawn shops in the bay area to see if they've put it out for sale but I've come up empty. I want my shit back. I got into photography about 4 years ago when my Dad gifted me my Canon Rebel T1i and the lens it came with and I got pretty damn good at it. I took it everywhere. Crime isn't a problem like that in Birmingham and on plenty of occasions I've left it in my car just so it would be in the vicinity if I ever came across something I wanted to shoot. I have thousands of photos stored up. Some of them great, some of them not so much, but I came to love doing it. My dad realized that as well, and so over time he gifted me with two more lenses, which happen to be the ones that were taken. If you follow me then you've probably seen some of my photos on here at some point. I even created a Instagram account exclusively for my photography and I had recently downloaded Adobe Lightroom because I wanted to take editing more seriously with the idea in mind that maybe I could start selling high quality prints one day. I can still do that with older photos, but doing it to the photos that I took on vacation that I was looking forward to sharing is on hold right now. I know that some people who read this (if anyone reads this) will do so and think to themselves "He may not get that camera back", and I've heard it before from others but succumbing to that idea has not crossed my mind even once. Because the person who did that took more than just a camera, they took something that I loved and that was basically a part of me, and ever since then when I've looked at a beautiful landscape, a gorgeous sunset, or just simply think about my short time on the west coast where I had probably the best vacation of my life so far I go back to the moment where I walked upon the rental car not realizing at first that the window was smashed as I reached for the door handle, and I feel the same emotion that surged through me as I processed the shattered glass on the seats and what it meant: FURY. I want my camera and those captured moments back, and I want that person who dared to do this to pay for it.

[shoogharashk]

30 February 3988

Our story continues! We arrived this morning in the nation of Greentide, in one of their northernmost towns of Port Reice. Upon our arrival, Pog advised us that Sullivan was coming to meet us in person that evening with additional information about one of our leads here. He would meet us at The K’Orc Room, an inn and winery on the cliffs north of town. Sullivan had also paid for lodging there for us for the night.

Port Reice was hidden behind a long key island that buffered the view of the city from the sea. There were low buildings that basically disappeared behind the palm forest on the key, which had an intriguing mixture of families playing on the bayside beach and formidable naval defences including a row of scorpions pointed inland -- presumably to quickly dispatch any enemy vessels that found their way into the bay.

As we docked, Isolt pulled us aside and said that while they are getting used to Garnet’s presence, she and Augmak didn’t trust her to wander yet. Garnet seemed quite disappointed, but agreed to stay in her humanoid form on the ship while the rest of us disembarked. I privately offered to take her along in my pack in her true form, but she refused, saying that she wanted to be trusted and would do as asked.

We disembarked and began to explore the town. A large statue of a human woman ripping a pirate flag in half was explained to me as being of Reice, the town’s namesake and folk hero, who was best known for single-handedly defeating an invasion of over fifty pirates. The dwarf who told me the story didn’t seem to know many details, but I’ll certainly keep my ears open for more information as she sounds quite fascinating. We visited a couple of shops -- the first was Tik Tok’s Timely Arcane Armory offered custom ordering of magical items, with dwarven, gnomish, and goblin craftsmanship and optional delivery by a rather formidable-looking mechanical eagle. The second was a rather shady looking pawn shop run by a fellow called Shylock. He had a number of mysterious items, the majority of which were well out of my price range, but Thea picked up a nice pair of boots that were completely silent on her feet! Will be nice for any sneaking around that needs done. Throckmorton also stopped in there after we did and picked up a small feather token.

Interestingly, the gang of miscreants that gave us trouble in Glory Fall seems to have a presence here. Wanted posters around the town suggest they’ve been responsible for a number of muggings in the area, and showed the same symbol I’d previously noticed on their rings. They are apparently known as the Red Oyster Cult. A reward was offered for a thousand gold pieces in exchange for information leading to an arrest, so we will have to see if we see any further signs of them here.

As sunset approached, we made our way towards The K’Orc Room. A main kitchen/tavern building in the front of the property was dwarfed by the large outdoor bar area in the back with several cabanas and a central bar. Strange lizards whose throat sacs glowed in the dark filled the trees between the tavern and the outdoor area, which fascinated Hyla, and she nearly got her nose bitten off by a lizard who was not amused by her staring and note-taking. I picked up a glass of wine from the bar and was quickly distracted by the band performing.

The band called themselves the Three Scales, and they were composed of a high elf playing a gold-stringed fiddle, a rock gnome playing a little copper finger-harp, and a dwarf with a sparkling silver drum. Their instruments and clothes were clearly quite fine and ornate, which initially caught my eye from across the bar before I could even properly hear them. But when I could. Oh, when I could. My dear friend. They were singing. In. Draconic. I have NEVER heard another bard do this, and their approximation of dragonsong was quite remarkable for beings without the appropriate physiology. I was utterly captivated, and completely lost track of time for a while until well after dark when I saw Pog and Sullivan making their way into the bar.

The two were accompanied by a halfling woman, and I heard a brief discussion in which the woman (who Sullivan called Bettencourt) thanked him for alerting her to information about a fugitive who was hiding in their town, and said she’d keep his apartment under watch in case he returns. She quickly departed without joining our table, and Sullivan sat down at the cabana we had selected. He inquired about our well-being, and about the incident in Marspeck with the necromancer. We gave him a quick synopsis, and him being a well-connected fellow, I asked if he’d heard of the Apocryphage, the group that the necromancer had aspired to join. He advised he hadn’t, which was a disappointment, but hopefully we will hear no more of them regardless.

Sullivan advised us that he’d learned more about Amell Maddock, the smuggler mentioned in Clever’s diaries. He was a former law officer in Emryn, and had fled his post years ago to join his “found family” here. He used his former skills and contacts to become a smuggler and information broker here. He is a wanted man back in Emryn. He said while he had found this information while digging into the name, he didn’t have any further information on Amell’s current location.

Our mission, he said, remains the same. Track down the location of the Fountain of Youth mentioned in Clever’s journals, and bring back whatever we can -- its location, more of the water, evidence of it or even of what causes the fountain’s power. It was during this discussion that he directed our attention back to the bards. They were singing, still in Draconic, but now a song that spoke of the Fountain -- a wellspring in a cave behind a waterfall, where eternal youth was granted for a terrible price. He then left us to our evening, saying he’d be staying at the local embassy if we needed him for anything.

As the band wrapped up their performance and were packing up for the evening, before we turned in for the night, I introduced myself and (quite embarrassingly) gushed for a moment about the rarity of encountering fellow speakers of my native tongue. The elf was called Pascal, the gnome Cabarot, and the dwarf Mogrem. They said they’d learned from a male copper dragon who had stayed at their bard college for a year, and they had learned the song about the Fountain there. While they assured me that it is quite real, and is a place where seekers of the fountain face great trials and must test their resolve against the water itself or never be heard from again, they admitted that they’d never actually heard of anyone coming back from seeking it. However, they also were confident that the fountain was located just upriver from this very town, deep in the jungles and along the cliffs by the River Dauntless. They mentioned several adventurers, after hearing their song, had gone in search of the Fountain and not returned.

Throckmorton made a quick trip back into town to check the local historical records, and did find a pattern of a number of adventurers (not many, maybe half a dozen in the last century, though three were in the last 20 years or so) which had stayed at the K’Orc Room, and who had later disappeared into the forests upriver and never been heard from again.

This will certainly be worth investigating in the morning. However, it is nearly midnight and time for rest. We will continue our search at sunrise.

-NS

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Eight

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I’m a tiny bit late getting this latest chapter of my @cssns story posted this evening but I'm going to try my best to get back on track with posting updates every other Monday as long as the real world doesn't get too crazy.

The last chapter had Emma reacting to learning she was related to the Mills sisters, angrily lashing out at Regina about keeping such a huge secret from her before getting drunk and having a heartfelt talk about it with Killian. As she settled in to sleep off too much rum, Killian was rendered unconscious by an invisible attacker. This chapter picks up the next morning and by the end of this installment, you'll have a good idea who the real villain of this tale is and an inkling of what Emma has gotten herself into.

As always, I want to thank the event organizers for all of their hard work.  Definitely looking forward to the completion of all of this year’s stories and for the newly announced 2020 event!  I also want to extend huge thank yous again to @lassluna for all of her help as a beta reader and to @cocohook38 for the incredible art work featured in the header.

Catch up from the beginning on AO3, FF.net or here on Tumblr:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven

The morning sunlight filtering through the break room mini blinds was every bit as unpleasant as Emma had expected when it hit that perfect angle to land directly on her face. Her head throbbed from her over-indulgence in rum last night, but she had no one to blame but herself. Tossing the blanket unceremoniously over the back of the sofa, she pushed herself up to a sitting position just as a somewhat bewildered Graham strolled in to brew his morning coffee.

"Emma? What are you doing here?" he asked, face scrunched in confusion. "Did you sleep here?"

"Yeah," she replied groggily as she stretched and forced her feet to the floor. She stood up to find the room only spinning slightly but increasing her nausea. "Had a little familial disagreement so after a few drinks with a friend, I came here to sleep it off."

"Must have been one rough night…"

"You don't even want to know…" she insisted as she made her way into the locker room in search of a change of clothing. She'd learned a long time ago to always keep a clean shirt and a pair of jeans on hand for emergencies. This way, she knew she had something available to make herself feel a little more human and look at tad more presentable before she embarked on her quest to confront those who'd kept her mother's real identity a secret from her. "Are you making coffee?" she called out to Graham as she changed from yesterday's attire.

"Just starting it now."

"Think you can make it extra strong?"

"I think I can manage that," Graham replied as he fished two mugs out of the cabinet mounted above the break room sink. He placed the mugs on the counter, knowing better than to ask anything else about her night. He'd slept off his own drunken benders in some unusual places too, so before switching on the coffee pot, he removed the bottle of aspirin that they kept in the cabinet and placed it next to her mug. He knew she'd appreciate it.

Emma emerged a few minutes later sporting a clean, rust colored tee shirt and blue jeans, eagerly inhaling the enticing aroma of the fresh brew. Graham was no longer in the break room but she immediately smiled when she saw the aspirin bottle atop the counter. Coffee and a few pain relievers were just what she needed right now before she set off down the street to have a chat with a squirrely pawn shop owner.

**********

Fueled by caffeine and a reinvigorated desire to get some answers about her mother's mysterious past, Emma stormed her way across and then down half a block of Main Street with Gold's potion booked clutched tightly in her left hand. Since the aspirin hadn't yet had time to kick in, her head was still pounding which was leaving her in no mood to take any crap from the pawn shop's owner.

Gold had opened up the shop for business at exactly 8AM, mere minutes before Emma shoved open the entrance door and stomped her way to the counter where the proprietor stood. She dropped the book onto the display case in front of him, almost hoping that the glass would break. Unfazed by her action, Gold glanced down at the potion book resting on the countertop then back up at the deputy's irate face.

"Good morning, Deputy Swan," he greeted her with little emotion in his voice and showing a considerable lack of interest in the very item that he'd requested her to retrieve for him.

"I found your book," she informed him very matter-of-factly, patting it with her fingertips to ensure she had his attention. "Found the little surprise inside of it too…"

"Surprise? Whatever are you talking about, Ms. Swan?" She wasn't the least bit surprised that he'd feign ignorance of the photograph and letter and she wasn't buying it.

She flipped open the book's cover to reveal the photo of her mother as a child and the faded, handwritten letter from her grandfather. "I suppose you're going to deny that you knew these were inside the book?"

Gold shrugged nonchalantly as he carefully lifted the aging photograph to examine it. "I loaned this book to Cora a very long time ago. I certainly can't speak for what she might have stuck inside it's covers."

"But you knew…"

"Knew what, Dearie?" he rudely interrupted her statement.

"You knew that Cora and my mother were sisters," she stated, undaunted by his apparent disinterest. "Why is it that everyone in this town thinks that it's such a horrible thing for me to know who I'm actually related to around here?"

"I would suppose it is because they weren't certain how you might react to learning the truth about your mother."

"And I suppose that it should have been left up to me, not them!" she countered, raising her voice angrily. "I've had it with all of the secrets! I want those items that belonged to my mother as I kept my end of the deal and I want you to spill what you know about my history!"

"Do you think you can handle the truth about your lineage?"

"I'll let you know. Now, why don't you start telling me what the big secrets are?"

"Fine," he relented as he made his way over to the ornate cabinet where he'd stored the items belonging to Ava Nolan. "You fulfilled your end of our deal by returning my book so your mother's items now belong to you." He tugged open the cabinet door and removed the small box and books he'd shown Emma the previous day and then placed them atop the counter. "I will answer some of your questions as a courtesy to your mother as well, but not out here. How about we go have a seat in my office where it will be more private for you to interrogate me?"

"Lead the way…"

Gold held the heavy beaded curtain aside as he gestured for Emma to pass through the doorway to his office and storeroom that lay beyond the sales floor. The decor of this not-for-public-eyes area was even more eclectic and disturbing than the shop itself but since she wasn't here to debate his decorating choices, she withheld commentary. She was only here this morning to learn about her mother, not discuss interior decorating.

"Have a seat, Ms. Swan," he said, directing her to a fancy upholstered chair that was probably as old as the town itself. Emma sat down on the offered chair, but she didn't allow herself to get too comfortable. She wasn't planning this to be a long, social visit. "I don't have all of the answers you seek, but what would you like to know?" he asked as he took a seat to her right on a burgundy divan.

"I guess we'll start with the same one I've been asking since last night - why was my mother's identity and place in this town such a secret?"

"That was a choice made by your family, I'm afraid. As you know, Storybrooke is a town with an unusual pedigree that they sought to protect. How much of the history of this town do you know?"

"I know a little. I know it was founded by the Blanchard family after the Civil War, in the late 1800's."

"That is correct - your great-grandparents founded the town in 1872, selecting this remote area of Maine to create a safe haven for those who wished to practice the magical arts, both dark and light. They welcomed fellow witches and warlocks and opened a portal across the bay to connect to other magical realms. However, the magic that Storybrooke was founded upon came with a price. To secure the magic that supports the town's infrastructure, your great-grandparents formed a pact with a very powerful warlock from a distant realm. That warlock agreed to share his extensive powers with the town of Storybrooke in exchange for an agreement that he could return whenever he chose and demand a duel for the powers of any practitioner he chose. Should his chosen competitor lose, he would gain their powers, Should the opponent win, the warlock would consider the debt paid and leave forever."

"That seems like an awfully big price to pay just to have magic in this town, but I don't get what that has to do with my mother…"

"I'm getting to that," he assured her, frowning at the young woman's impatience. "The warlock has returned to Storybrooke twice since the town's inception and has won the challenge both times. Your mother was his unfortunate second victim."

"She lost her powers?" Emma asked, partially for clarification, although she'd understood Gold's explanation of the warlock's competition, so she already knew the answer.

"She did. Her challenge caused her to be tricked into making an ill-advised choice, but that's really all I know of it. After losing her magic, she attempted to stay here in town and live a normal life. She married widower Robert Nolan, had you, but then one day, something changed and she took you and disappeared."

"When I was growing up, she never once mentioned that she'd had powers of any kind," Emma stated as she attempted to process all of this new information. "I always thought that she'd run from something bad, maybe something abusive, but after meeting David and learning about our dad, that didn't make sense anymore and now it makes even less sense… What caused her to run away from her home and family?"

"I'm afraid that you'll need to ask those questions of your family. I can't tell you what pushed her away or why they kept her identity a secret from you, but now, if you don't mind, I should be getting back to work."

"I understand. One last question though," she began as she stood up. "Do you have any idea what ill-advised choice she had to make?"

"Afraid not, dearie. All I know is that the warlock came into town and weaseled his way into her life, leading her to that decision. She chose poorly."

"What the hell did she have to choose?" Emma repeated the question to herself while exhaling a deep sigh.

Gold shook his head and shrugged as he ushered her out of his office. "I don't remember much from that time, but from what I do recall of your mother, it likely involved a man."

"What?" she exclaimed as she crossed the threshold back into the main shop. "What do you mean by that?"

"Growing up, your mother had very bad luck with the men in her life. Your grandfather died when she was still rather young and she had a string of boyfriends but few serious relationships. Perhaps your brother or your cousins will remember more?"

"Well, this just keeps getting better and better…," she muttered under her breath as the old man disappeared behind the curtain without another word. Befuddled, she gathered up the few belongings her mother had left with Gold, collected the photograph of her mother and aunt along with her grandfather's letter and wandered out to the sidewalk completely lost in thought. She now had the knowledge that her mother had once possessed magical powers but lost them after being on the losing end of some sort of challenge from an evil warlock - a challenge that had involved some sort of choice - but what? By Gold's description, this challenge had taken place a few years before her mother had run away to Boston so it didn't seem as though the loss of her magic had been the catalyst that caused her to bolt. So, what had it been? What choice had the warlock forced her to make? Had it actually involved a man like Gold had suggested or was there more to it?

She was anxious to see what was inside the mysterious box Gold had held onto for all of these years and to learn more about the books that accompanied the box. First though, she had to take a break and feed her grumbling stomach. The coffee had been a good way to start the morning, but she needed to fuel her growling belly and Granny's was tantalizingly close… Three or four more cups of industrial strength coffee couldn't hurt either.

She took a step into the street, barely noticing the car parked curbside in front of the pawn shop and too distracted by her own thoughts to realize that there was another person in her path. She walked straight into that unseen pedestrian, the collision sending them both tumbling to the asphalt. Emma managed to hold on to her mother's box, but the books fell from her grasp.

"I'm so sorry…,' she began to apologize profusely to the man she'd collided with. "I wasn't looking where I was going…" She pushed herself to her knees and began to gather her belongings, almost afraid to look to see who she had so awkwardly run into. "Are you alright? I hope I didn't knock you over too hard…"

"It's alright, Emma…," the familiar voice said with a chuckle. "This isn't exactly how I planned to run into you, but I'm not going to complain." Recognizing the voice, she flushed with embarrassment. It may have only been Walsh, but she would rather he not see her this flustered.

"Walsh, I guess we literally ran into each other," she said with a shy, awkward grin. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No worries. I wasn't really paying attention either. I was just heading over to visit Mr. Gold and see if there were any updates on my incoming shipment. What about you? I thought you were off today but that intensity in your gaze says otherwise."

"Oh, I was just returning a book to Gold in exchange for this old stuff that used to belong to my mother. Now I'm heading over to Granny's to get some breakfast and take a look at this stuff. Wanna join me? I'll buy to make up for getting your suit all dirty…"

"I just might take you up on that offer," he said as he brushed some invisible dust off of his dark, coffee bean brown suit. Yeah, she had coffee cravings on her brain again… "Let me finish up my business here but I'll stop over when I'm all done."

"Sounds good," she replied with a hopeful smile. "I'll take my time. After last night, I'll probably need to go through a couple of pots of coffee…"

"Last night? What happened last night?"

"Let's just call it an interesting night that ended in a few too many drinks after having way too much unloaded on me too quickly…"

"Ah… I have heard that the full moon can lead to some overwhelming revelations around here…"

"Oh, just a few revelations… But I'd better let you get back to business. I'll save you a seat if you decide to take me up on the breakfast offer."

"Sounds great, Emma. I'll try to keep things short," he offered, not exactly promising that he'd make it but leaving her hopeful that she might gain some company for breakfast. She had so much to process and she hadn't even gotten to the relatives yet. Maybe it was best to have someone to share the discoveries with her instead of sitting in the diner alone?

Walsh held the smile on his face until as Emma continued (cautiously this time) across the quiet street towards her intended destination of Granny's diner. Once her back was fully to him and he was no longer in her purview, he straightened his sport coat and reset his composure. Projecting a decidedly more business-like demeanor, he entered the pawn shop to seek out its owner.

Alerted by the jingle of the bell attached to the door handle, Gold knew that someone had come into the store, but believing it to be the deputy returning with more inquiries, he responded before poking his head around the curtain.

"If you're back for more, there's not much else I can tell you," Gold said as he stepped around the room divider to see that the person awaiting him in the lobby wasn't Emma Swan, awkwardly finding the face of Walsh Gibbons instead.

"More about what?" a confused and curious Walsh asked as he noted Gold's reaction.

"Mr. Gibbons. My apologies. I thought Ms. Swan was returning with some additional questions about the items she just obtained from me." Gold did his best to conceal his embarrassment over his faux pas of making the statement before confirming his audience.

"Ah, yes, she mentioned that she'd traded for some old items of her mother's."

"A few small things," Gold said, not intending to go into further detail. "So, how can I help you today, Mr. Gibbons? As you're aware, the ship carrying the items you desire isn't due into port until Monday. The captain expects to be in the harbor around noon should fair winds prevail."

"Yes, I'm aware of that delay. I'm actually here for something else, specifically some assistance with a particular potion…," Walsh informed him as he reached into the right hand pocket of his sport coat, withdrawing a folded slip of paper that he slid across the glass countertop to Gold. "Think you can put that together for me?"

The pawn shop owner picked up the paper warily, slowly unfolding it to see what was being requested of him. "I believe I have all of the ingredients for this but whatever do you need it for?"

"That is my business," Walsh replied with haughty tone. "Your business is to make it for me, right?" Gold found himself reminded of his conversation earlier that week when he'd assured Emma that his dealings with Walsh were strictly business. Clearly word had reached Gibbons who was now throwing it back at him. "How long will it take?" Walsh asked to snap Gold back to the present.

"If I have everything required, I can have it to you in about an hour. Let me take a quick gander at my storeroom."

"Please do. I'll wait."

Gold vanished behind the heavy fabric divider while Walsh waited impatiently to learn if the potion could be completed in a timely manner. The shopkeeper was out of sight for less than two minutes when he returned with his response. "I do have all of the necessary ingredients. The potion will be ready for you in an hour."

"Perfect. I guess I'll go take Emma up on her breakfast offer while I wait," Walsh grinned. "See you in an hour."

Gold stood silently behind the counter as Walsh exited his shop. He'd made many potions for Gibbons over the years they'd been doing business together, but this latest request had him puzzled. It was unusual, even for Gibbons, but business was business.

**********

Elsewhere in Storybrooke, (at least he hoped he was still in Storybrooke) Killian Jones had awakened in near total darkness. His last recollection was of walking a very tipsy Emma to the Sheriff's station then returning to the Jolly Roger - but how long ago had that been? There was no way to know if it was day or night or whether minutes or hours had passed. He vaguely recalled a choking sensation that he might have dismissed as a dream were it not for the lingering ache in his neck.

He knew he was no longer aboard his ship as there was nothing familiar to any of his senses - no gentle rocking and swaying on the bobbing waves nor any scent of marine air or teakwood. No, wherever he was, it was dank and dark. There was no light filtering in through any crack in the stone or cement walls of this chamber and there was a musty, earthy odor to his surroundings.

Where the hell was he?

Using the nearest wall both for support and to gain his bearings, Killian pushed himself upright, immediately realizing that he was missing something - his hook. He knew he'd been wearing it when he'd left Emma but now its familiar weight wasn't there. He still wore the brace that secured it yet the prosthetic implement itself had been removed.

A renewed vulnerability washed over him as he inched his way along the wall in the inky blackness yet he was determined to take stock of this prison. His hand felt for any recess or crack that might signify a possible exit as he made his way to the chamber's first corner. He continued moving to his right along the second wall discovering that it was little more than an arm-span distance between the corners. Whatever this awful hole was, it was narrow.

The third wall proved to be only slightly longer than the second which provided him a rough estimate of the room's dimensions - approximately six or seven feet wide and perhaps nine or ten feet wide. It would be about the size of a small storage room or closet - or even an actual prison cell.

But at least there was some hope. As he reached the next bend, his hand came in contact with wood. A door frame. A doorway. At least if the room had a way in, there was a chance he could find a way out, although that might prove a tad more difficult without his hook. His hand surveyed the frame and door in search of a key hole or some type of locking mechanism but he found neither. Whatever purpose this chamber served, it was secured from outside which left him with the chilling realization that it just might be a prison cell and he was its unfortunate occupant.

Questions flooded his brain as his psyche tried to make sense of his situation. Where the hell was he and how the bloody hell did he get here? He didn't remember leaving the Jolly Roger, at least not willingly. He'd sensed no one else on deck with him and a skirmish would certainly have drawn the attention of his crew.

Someone had brought him here and locked him away in this miserable, lonely pit, but who? He'd barely been in this port for a week but had he unexpectedly crossed someone unwittingly? There was so much he needed to know…

"Hello?" he shouted in the direction of the sealed door, unsure if anyone would even be listening. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Hearing nothing except the echo of his own voice and the pounding of his heart, Killian slumped against the nearest wall. He knew he needed to think this through and to conserve his energy. There was no indication of any water or provisions left here for him so either his captor planned to bring him sustenance or he was intended to slowly starve to death - the latter being an option he wasn't prepared to consider.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

The Eel River Inn (9/?)

Bucky stayed with you in California, acting as some extra muscle. It was a lot harder for studio types to push you around when Bucky was sitting next to you looking quietly menacing even as his fingers were laced through yours.

They couldn’t figure out if he was a bodyguard or a lover. They settled on both. Any time they got too sharp with you, anytime they so much as made you look a little uncomfortable or flustered, the man you called James would shift fractionally. As if he were getting ready for a fight. He never said a word. Not one aside from placing his order with the waitress. He pulled out your chair. He held your hand. He kept his eyes locked on them like they were paltry prey but they were the best thing he was going to get in this concrete jungle. 

In the end, the studio was forced to agree to your terms. Lawyers were called in to do the contracts and you said, “Thank you very much, gentlemen,” and flounced out. Dog at your heels and Biker Jesus on your arm. They weren’t sure how you had done it. They’d been told to strong-arm you into submission. Somehow, with a big sweet smile and one scary mother fucker, you had outmaneuvered two of the best.

In the back of the car, you pull Bucky into a slow, sweet kiss. He melts when you touch his jaw. As you pull away he chuckles, “What was that for, doll?” he asks. “For being here,” you say softly, “You didn’t have to come out here at all, but I’m glad you did.” He grins, “I’ll come to play tough guy any time, doll. I’d forgotten how much fun it could be to scare the hell out of a couple overpaid bullies.” He kisses your forehead and you smile at him, “If I didn’t know better I’d think you liked me or something,” you tease.

“What?” he asked, mock scandalized, “Never. Not in a million years.” He proceeded to prove it by pulling you into a kiss that left you breathless and blushing when he pulled away, “You’re just my best girl is all,” he teased. He held you, glad to see that for now, the depression that was threatening to crush you was held at bay. That you were coping and you were still with him. He knew it was an ongoing battle. That joking with him now didn’t mean that he was here and so you were cured. But he was happy to be a bandaid. Happy to give you a little relief, even if it was just temporary. After California, he took you to New York. It was fun. You were there early so you had even more time to spend with him. At least in Theory. 

He got called away for a mission, leaving you with some unexpected time on your hands. So you wandered book shops and did some sightseeing. You knew he was an Avenger. That he had friends. He just hadn’t gotten around to introducing you yet. If he hadn’t told you why, it might have been a red flag. But for Bucky, you were his ‘normal’ he said he felt like himself with you. He just wanted to have a comfortable place to go... He promised he would introduce you. He said that Steve and the others wanted to meet you. He just needed to be ready for both those worlds to collide. If anyone was following you, you figured it was a shy fan. It happened. You got approached every so often. Especially with a fan event in the area and people actively looking for you.

The entitled fans were the worst. They’d keep you talking forever, yammering on about headcanons that they had that they insisted you make cannon. Gay characters really being straight, more gay sex in a story that was not remotely sexy, no more child characters in a book about children... It was endless.

You wished Bucky were close by but you settled for sending him texts of the most outlandish things people said to you. He rarely replies, but. He’s busy. He’s got the world to save. Or at least real problems to solve. 

Bucky saves each text. It’s a lifeline. A reminder that he isn’t who he used to be. That his “misson self” is not all that there is. That to you, he’s so much more than a pawn and an assassin. It keeps him grounded. 

He skips the briefing and goes straight to your hotel. He wants you. He needs to feel you in his arms, comfortable against his chest. He needs to go home. So he does. He falls into your arms and kisses you hello with a smile. You tear up a little, happy to have him home. Thrilled to have him safe. 

And you dote on him, a hot shower, a rub down, and some time admiring some of the new pretty underthings you bought. Reminding him that you love him and that you’re here. That this time is all that there is and the past can’t haunt him with you because you won’t let it. You’re good at telling Shadows to go fuck themselves. 

The next day, rested and back to his old self again, he takes you to meet Steve. It’s just dinner at a little spot they like. Low key, nothing major. Giving Steve a chance to get a feel for you. And of course, Steve brought Natasha. Bucky sighed internally but seeing the look on the spy’s face soften a little when she saw you made him relax. Nat hadn’t been exaggerating, apparently when she said she liked you.  When you’re reintroduced to Nat, there’s hugging. And some crying on your part. You feel all your feelings intensely. It makes you a shitty poker player and a very good writer. Once they all get settled at the table, it’s comfortable. Lady is a perfect guest, keeping quiet, her head on your lap for pats. Steve doesn’t interrogate you but Bucky catches him looking at you with interest as you and Natasha chat. 

She asked you about your breakdown. She asked you about your house. And your books. Bucky noted she was careful not to pry about your barn. Steve is confused, Bucky thinks, by your honesty about your breakdown. The candor is genuine. You’ve always been open about it. Your mental health is a cornerstone of your writing. It’s part of the reason you write. Steve is baffled by you. There’s a lot of sweet and a lot of sharp edges and it’s hard to know where one ends and one begins. But as he watches you cuddle into Bucky’s side and look up at him with the sweetest little smile on your face, he can’t deny that you fit with him. 

Bucky looks like his old self with you. Relaxed. Joking. Happy. And that’s enough. Steve decides that whatever happens in that little town that makes Bucky keep going back is enough. As you walk away from them that evening, Bucky’s hand on the small of your back, and as you pull him down for a kiss that makes him visibly melt into you, Captain America thanks god for The Eel River Inn.

[granterspawn]

Granters pawn and showroom. Authenticate, Affordable, Luxury! Two convenient Bay Area showrooms to serve you. Downtown Friendly El Cerrito & 2581 Springs Rd. in Historic Vallejo California. #granters #grantersshowroom #luxury #bestpawnshop #lv #louisvuitton #rolex #gold #silver #coins #comics #loans (at GRANTERS pawn shop) https://www.instagram.com/p/CcatazCrusu/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[sohannabarberaesque]

From one of those Surprise Shortwave Worldcasts of Honey and Sis, this time an interview with Squiddly Diddly

[In which the topic at hand is the latest edition of Squiddly's Underwater Annual, a somewhat bemusing privately-circulated collation of underwater photography and lore, with contributions from the Catalina Diving Clowder and Peter Potamus as much as from some underwater-photography friends of Squiddly Diddly, himself also something of an underwater photog]

SIS, rather fascinated at the prospect: So what exactly was it, Squiddly, that sent you into underwater photography to begin with?

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY: For some months after Chief Winchley began losing his mind, Bubbleland was basically "going to seed," as it were, and suddenly closed one day without warning of any kind. Which pretty much left me without any sort of home, but with some savings as were enough to buy me from a pawn shop a second-hand underwater photography camera--a Nikonos, to be exact, the first such camera to have its own built-in underwater housing!

HONEY: And how exactly did you teach yourself underwater photography, did you have some sort of a mentor to help you along?

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY: I admit being self-taught in a way, just working my way along to try and get it right ... and eventually, Peter Potamus, with whom I did some underwater camera work with on "Underwater America with Peter Potamus"--

HONEY: I do believe we've seen the show every now and then.

SIS: Your production work is VERY impressive there, I have to say!

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY, continuing: --Peter Potamus, at any rate, began advising and mentoring me, even helping me enter my first underwater photography salon a few months later. And was I impressed when my work actually took home Best of Salon--which, for an amateur like myself, amounted to something of a lucky break!

SIS: So what would you attribute a good underwater photograph to?

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY: For one who's in that proverbial grey area between rank amateur and outright professional, I would have to say just whatever catches my fascination underwater makes for a good underwater photograph.

HONEY: I understand your friends at the Catalina Diving Clowder usually have a section in your annuals to their diving exploits off The Magic Isle; we'd like to know how that came about.

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY: Me and a couple of friends were on Catalina some years back, and a couple felines in the Catalina Diving Clowder, introducing themselves as "Bubbles," their leader, and Jessamaine, a rather flighty one herself, came across me in a diver's bar in Avalon. Both acknowledged they found my underwater photographs rather fascinating, and wondered if maybe they could have some photography done of them on a diving journey of theirs in the waters off Catalina ... and it was at perhaps their single favourite dive spot, Isthmus Cove over at Two Harbors on the west side of Catalina. And what better locale than that--remarkably clear waters, fascinating rock reefs, a modest little kelp forest and the remnants of a Chinese junk as sank during an early motion-picture shoot in that area?

SIS: And I assume the diving moves of those cats were rather remarkable.

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY: And were they--!!! In time, such reached a point where the Clowder, a group of feline queens having a crash pad on the hill above Avalon Bay where they welcome fellow divers on diving misadventures and hijinks galore, would have their own special section in my Underwater Annuals.

HONEY: Is that particular section especially popular?

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY: Judging by the response I get from such who I send copies of the Annual to, many just cannot help but be fascinated at how the Clowder sees the underwater side of Catalina Island.

SIS: With awe and fascination.

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY: However did you guess?

SIS: We have some of your past Annuals ... and cannot wait to see your latest such.

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY: Which I will gladly present unto you know ...

[estates-consignments]

Wrist Watches Store in California

Step into luxury at our wrist watches store in California. From sleek and sophisticated to bold and adventurous, we've got the perfect timepiece to match your unique style.

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[easyfoodnetwork]

Landlords Lose Money When Restaurant Properties Sit Vacant, So Why Not Give Rent Relief?

George Wirt/Shutterstock

Property owners with bullish views and big cash reserves see no reason to give tenants any breaks

Every day, David Helbraun feels like banging his head against the wall. A founding partner and chairman at Helbraun Levey, a New York City-based hospitality law firm with more than 1,000 clients in the city alone, the former entrepreneur and coffee bar owner is struggling to help restaurant owners desperate after months of COVID-19-related closures, restrictions, and income loss. The biggest obstacle, he says, is landlords who would rather see a restaurant space remain vacant, bringing in no money, than negotiate partial payments and rent relief for tenants. Currently, the firm is handling lease negotiations for more than 200 clients.

“Why is this happening?” he says. “My gut tells me that the real estate market in New York is shark-infested waters, and the landlords who grew up and do business in these shark-infested waters have to be sharks themselves. You can’t reason with a shark. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t eat that seal, there aren’t many of them.’ No, they’re going to eat the seal.”

Helbraun’s frustration goes to the heart of a crisis facing the restaurant industry and so many others clobbered by the economic fallout of the coronavirus: the cost of real estate. In late July, Philadelphia’s all-day cafe High Street on Market announced it would close its longtime location in the Old City neighborhood because it simply couldn’t keep up with rent, which went up by $5,000 a month last October, says co-owner Ellen Yin. The restaurant struggled to make ends meet during mandated closures and months of lost business, and the landlord — whom Yin declined to name — wouldn’t budge or offer any concessions. (The property’s real estate agent refused to identify the landlord and would not give comment to Eater.) “I told him we were in a really difficult position,” Yin says. “‘It’s difficult to be a restaurateur in this situation, and while I understand you have expenses, I need help.’” Even though High Street had paid its rent in full through August 1, the only assistance she was offered was a promise not to raise rent when the lease came up for renewal in October. A day after Yin informed the landlord that they were vacating, they were sent a termination letter via certified mail. The space is already listed for rent online, starting in October.

High Street on Market isn’t the only popular restaurant to announce closure recently. Other high-profile restaurants and bars — including Uncle Boons and Banty Rooster in New York City and the Summer Place and Flights in the Bay Area — cite the challenges of paying rent and inflexible landlords as key reasons for closing. Space for kitchens, dining rooms, and bars is incredibly expensive for entrepreneurs and small businesses — typically between 6 to 10 percent of gross revenue, according to Paul Pruitt, an industry consultant in LA — especially during a pandemic that’s led to mandatory shutdowns and a steep drop in customers.

Industry figures are baffled as to why many landlords don’t want to negotiate some sort of rent relief, especially when they face an uncertain future as well. After all, they have their own mortgages to pay, and it seems unlikely, if not impossible, that they will find new tenants as the pandemic, and its economic effects, continue.

Many involved in these rent relief negotiations cite an array of factors that dictate a landlord’s willingness to negotiate, including the landlord-tenant relationship, the financial position of the landlord, and perceptions about the industry’s future. There are some instances where reduced rent comes with the deal. Leases for property in malls and large shopping centers have what’s called co-tenancy clauses. If an anchor client like Macy’s goes under, or a certain number of stores in the development close, then other tenants have the right to pay reduced rent due to the loss of foot traffic. Landlords in these situations may seek out a deal to provide relief to restaurant owners to avoid renegotiations and bigger losses. Sadly, clauses addressing pandemics aren’t common business practice.

“There are going to be people who are inflexible for whatever reason, and some that understand a restaurant can only do so much, that no customers means no tenants and it’ll be difficult to rent the space,” says Yin.

To be fair, not every landlord is playing hardball. Most “know they can’t get blood from a stone,” says Stephen Boyd, a senior director at Fitch Ratings. They want to preserve the income they can and set up deals with tenants that allow them to eventually recoup their losses. In Chicago, El Che Steakhouse has been able to work with landlords (who also happen to be investors), and Bay Area chain Wrecking Ball Coffee was given half-off rent by landlords for all three of its locations, with the balance due at an unspecified future date. Other landlords may want to budge, but can’t, says Milford Jones, the operator of Sellingrestaurants.com and a national broker who sets up lease deals for restaurants. Many landlords’ mortgage deals with banks include covenants that forbid charging rent below a certain figure.

“Of course, then there are landlords who are just plain assholes,” says Jones. “They always think there’s another, better tenant out there.”

The size of the landlord can often determine their relative openness to rent relief. Big-name developers, who have lots of capital and understand the value restaurants and bars bring to their larger developments, tend to be flexible. Small mom-and-pop landlords, who may have one or just a handful or properties, are “real people,” Helbraun says; they don’t have the reserves right now to risk vacancy, and tend to have better relationships with tenants.

The real trouble, Helbraun says, are the mid-size property owners with a few dozen buildings. He calls them the shark pool; “cultivating a reputation for being tough and not budging is how they’ve survived in the past.”

Another key factor is the relationship restaurant owners have with their landlord. Paying rent on time is just 50 percent of the relationship, says Salar Sheik, a consultant with LA-based Savory Hospitality. Is the restaurant/tenant an amenity that drives foot traffic, a famous name that brings in business, a corporate chain with deep pockets and consistency, or a business with a grandfathered liquor license, a huge asset, that may be at risk if a property were to remain vacant in a downturn? That means more leniency.

Some landlords see the fallout from COVID-19 as a time to cull poor-performing restaurants and strike a better deal. Consider a small bistro that signed a deal two years ago in an up-and-coming neighborhood; the landlord, looking for a tenant to drive foot traffic in what may be a gentrifying neighborhood, offered a sweetheart deal for a five-year lease. If that bistro is looking to negotiate some rent breaks or deferment, the landlord may look at how much more he could charge a new tenant, and decide that refusing to provide a break — which may mean months of an empty storefront — will be more than made up by a new tenant paying higher rent.

“It’s kind of like chess, and your landlord is thinking, are you a king or a queen, or are you a pawn he can afford to lose to win the game?” says Sheik.

Finally, a landlord’s own financial cushion will play into their strategy. Those who own multiple properties or have cash reserves can afford to leave a handful empty if the majority of them are profitable. Jones says that some of the big corporate landlords are “brainless” and will just sit with retail and restaurant space empty for years.

“While everything else is dying, they still want these premium rents, and you just shake your head,” he says.

Some landlords are even bullish, says Pruitt. They see sidewalk dining proliferate (even though it can cover at best only 20 to 25 percent of previous income, says Helbraun). They know that Paycheck Protection Program loans from the CARES Act and Economic Injury Disaster Loans from the Small Business Association are out. They see this as a small slump; the world will get back on its feet again and people will want to eat out again. If that’s your perspective, maybe you’ll offer payment deferrals, but why forgive rent?

Restaurateurs are at a breaking point. Helbraun says that the stimulus money has run out for many of his clients, and it doesn’t look like there’s more forthcoming from D.C. Once they have to close, they may just put their furniture and fixtures in storage, wait until rents fall in line with what they think they should be paying, and try to start again. (Many seek to take advantage of New York City’s Law 1932-A, which exempts restaurants owners, among others, from personal liability if they have to declare bankruptcy due to COVID-19-related closures. That hasn’t stopped many landlords from threatening to sue anyways, say Helbraun.)

“Where does that leave landlords? Who knows?” he says. “I just assume they have so much money in their portfolios they can write it off and just wait until things get better.”

While struggling restaurant owners asking for rent breaks don’t have the high ground today, things may change. Pruitt points to the high number of restaurant closings in 2019 as signs of development saturation; when things begin to take shape post-COVID-19, there will be a mounting number of vacant spaces landlords will lease at steep discounts. Yin plans to relocate High Street on Market to a new location, and says she’s been approached by lots of brokers offering open space; it’s nice to be seen as a good potential tenant, she says, but to her, that also signals that there are a lot of vacancies and people interested in cutting deals.

“I think the tough stance from landlords is really denial,” says Adam Weisblatt, CEO at Los Angeles-based Last Word Hospitality. “Considering that retail is also in dire straits, I think many landlords aren’t facing up to the fact that their business model is broken.”

Weisblatt thinks leases will also be different: He foresees deals where tenants pay a base rate, and then a percentage based on net sales, with clauses clearly spelling out what happens during a pandemic or other such disasters. “What you’re seeing is creativity on the business side is as important as the branding and food side,” he says. “A landlord is your partner, whether you like it or not, so that relationship is important.”

Chefs and owners who can’t catch a break can perhaps take solace in the fact that, when the industry does start bouncing back, new restaurateurs will know exactly which landlords weren’t great partners in the past.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/327tvGp https://ift.tt/3174Ylb

George Wirt/Shutterstock

Property owners with bullish views and big cash reserves see no reason to give tenants any breaks

Every day, David Helbraun feels like banging his head against the wall. A founding partner and chairman at Helbraun Levey, a New York City-based hospitality law firm with more than 1,000 clients in the city alone, the former entrepreneur and coffee bar owner is struggling to help restaurant owners desperate after months of COVID-19-related closures, restrictions, and income loss. The biggest obstacle, he says, is landlords who would rather see a restaurant space remain vacant, bringing in no money, than negotiate partial payments and rent relief for tenants. Currently, the firm is handling lease negotiations for more than 200 clients.

“Why is this happening?” he says. “My gut tells me that the real estate market in New York is shark-infested waters, and the landlords who grew up and do business in these shark-infested waters have to be sharks themselves. You can’t reason with a shark. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t eat that seal, there aren’t many of them.’ No, they’re going to eat the seal.”

Helbraun’s frustration goes to the heart of a crisis facing the restaurant industry and so many others clobbered by the economic fallout of the coronavirus: the cost of real estate. In late July, Philadelphia’s all-day cafe High Street on Market announced it would close its longtime location in the Old City neighborhood because it simply couldn’t keep up with rent, which went up by $5,000 a month last October, says co-owner Ellen Yin. The restaurant struggled to make ends meet during mandated closures and months of lost business, and the landlord — whom Yin declined to name — wouldn’t budge or offer any concessions. (The property’s real estate agent refused to identify the landlord and would not give comment to Eater.) “I told him we were in a really difficult position,” Yin says. “‘It’s difficult to be a restaurateur in this situation, and while I understand you have expenses, I need help.’” Even though High Street had paid its rent in full through August 1, the only assistance she was offered was a promise not to raise rent when the lease came up for renewal in October. A day after Yin informed the landlord that they were vacating, they were sent a termination letter via certified mail. The space is already listed for rent online, starting in October.

High Street on Market isn’t the only popular restaurant to announce closure recently. Other high-profile restaurants and bars — including Uncle Boons and Banty Rooster in New York City and the Summer Place and Flights in the Bay Area — cite the challenges of paying rent and inflexible landlords as key reasons for closing. Space for kitchens, dining rooms, and bars is incredibly expensive for entrepreneurs and small businesses — typically between 6 to 10 percent of gross revenue, according to Paul Pruitt, an industry consultant in LA — especially during a pandemic that’s led to mandatory shutdowns and a steep drop in customers.

Industry figures are baffled as to why many landlords don’t want to negotiate some sort of rent relief, especially when they face an uncertain future as well. After all, they have their own mortgages to pay, and it seems unlikely, if not impossible, that they will find new tenants as the pandemic, and its economic effects, continue.

Many involved in these rent relief negotiations cite an array of factors that dictate a landlord’s willingness to negotiate, including the landlord-tenant relationship, the financial position of the landlord, and perceptions about the industry’s future. There are some instances where reduced rent comes with the deal. Leases for property in malls and large shopping centers have what’s called co-tenancy clauses. If an anchor client like Macy’s goes under, or a certain number of stores in the development close, then other tenants have the right to pay reduced rent due to the loss of foot traffic. Landlords in these situations may seek out a deal to provide relief to restaurant owners to avoid renegotiations and bigger losses. Sadly, clauses addressing pandemics aren’t common business practice.

“There are going to be people who are inflexible for whatever reason, and some that understand a restaurant can only do so much, that no customers means no tenants and it’ll be difficult to rent the space,” says Yin.

To be fair, not every landlord is playing hardball. Most “know they can’t get blood from a stone,” says Stephen Boyd, a senior director at Fitch Ratings. They want to preserve the income they can and set up deals with tenants that allow them to eventually recoup their losses. In Chicago, El Che Steakhouse has been able to work with landlords (who also happen to be investors), and Bay Area chain Wrecking Ball Coffee was given half-off rent by landlords for all three of its locations, with the balance due at an unspecified future date. Other landlords may want to budge, but can’t, says Milford Jones, the operator of Sellingrestaurants.com and a national broker who sets up lease deals for restaurants. Many landlords’ mortgage deals with banks include covenants that forbid charging rent below a certain figure.

“Of course, then there are landlords who are just plain assholes,” says Jones. “They always think there’s another, better tenant out there.”

The size of the landlord can often determine their relative openness to rent relief. Big-name developers, who have lots of capital and understand the value restaurants and bars bring to their larger developments, tend to be flexible. Small mom-and-pop landlords, who may have one or just a handful or properties, are “real people,” Helbraun says; they don’t have the reserves right now to risk vacancy, and tend to have better relationships with tenants.

The real trouble, Helbraun says, are the mid-size property owners with a few dozen buildings. He calls them the shark pool; “cultivating a reputation for being tough and not budging is how they’ve survived in the past.”

Another key factor is the relationship restaurant owners have with their landlord. Paying rent on time is just 50 percent of the relationship, says Salar Sheik, a consultant with LA-based Savory Hospitality. Is the restaurant/tenant an amenity that drives foot traffic, a famous name that brings in business, a corporate chain with deep pockets and consistency, or a business with a grandfathered liquor license, a huge asset, that may be at risk if a property were to remain vacant in a downturn? That means more leniency.

Some landlords see the fallout from COVID-19 as a time to cull poor-performing restaurants and strike a better deal. Consider a small bistro that signed a deal two years ago in an up-and-coming neighborhood; the landlord, looking for a tenant to drive foot traffic in what may be a gentrifying neighborhood, offered a sweetheart deal for a five-year lease. If that bistro is looking to negotiate some rent breaks or deferment, the landlord may look at how much more he could charge a new tenant, and decide that refusing to provide a break — which may mean months of an empty storefront — will be more than made up by a new tenant paying higher rent.

“It’s kind of like chess, and your landlord is thinking, are you a king or a queen, or are you a pawn he can afford to lose to win the game?” says Sheik.

Finally, a landlord’s own financial cushion will play into their strategy. Those who own multiple properties or have cash reserves can afford to leave a handful empty if the majority of them are profitable. Jones says that some of the big corporate landlords are “brainless” and will just sit with retail and restaurant space empty for years.

“While everything else is dying, they still want these premium rents, and you just shake your head,” he says.

Some landlords are even bullish, says Pruitt. They see sidewalk dining proliferate (even though it can cover at best only 20 to 25 percent of previous income, says Helbraun). They know that Paycheck Protection Program loans from the CARES Act and Economic Injury Disaster Loans from the Small Business Association are out. They see this as a small slump; the world will get back on its feet again and people will want to eat out again. If that’s your perspective, maybe you’ll offer payment deferrals, but why forgive rent?

Restaurateurs are at a breaking point. Helbraun says that the stimulus money has run out for many of his clients, and it doesn’t look like there’s more forthcoming from D.C. Once they have to close, they may just put their furniture and fixtures in storage, wait until rents fall in line with what they think they should be paying, and try to start again. (Many seek to take advantage of New York City’s Law 1932-A, which exempts restaurants owners, among others, from personal liability if they have to declare bankruptcy due to COVID-19-related closures. That hasn’t stopped many landlords from threatening to sue anyways, say Helbraun.)

“Where does that leave landlords? Who knows?” he says. “I just assume they have so much money in their portfolios they can write it off and just wait until things get better.”

While struggling restaurant owners asking for rent breaks don’t have the high ground today, things may change. Pruitt points to the high number of restaurant closings in 2019 as signs of development saturation; when things begin to take shape post-COVID-19, there will be a mounting number of vacant spaces landlords will lease at steep discounts. Yin plans to relocate High Street on Market to a new location, and says she’s been approached by lots of brokers offering open space; it’s nice to be seen as a good potential tenant, she says, but to her, that also signals that there are a lot of vacancies and people interested in cutting deals.

“I think the tough stance from landlords is really denial,” says Adam Weisblatt, CEO at Los Angeles-based Last Word Hospitality. “Considering that retail is also in dire straits, I think many landlords aren’t facing up to the fact that their business model is broken.”

Weisblatt thinks leases will also be different: He foresees deals where tenants pay a base rate, and then a percentage based on net sales, with clauses clearly spelling out what happens during a pandemic or other such disasters. “What you’re seeing is creativity on the business side is as important as the branding and food side,” he says. “A landlord is your partner, whether you like it or not, so that relationship is important.”

Chefs and owners who can’t catch a break can perhaps take solace in the fact that, when the industry does start bouncing back, new restaurateurs will know exactly which landlords weren’t great partners in the past.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/327tvGp via Blogger https://ift.tt/316M123

[tonypapesh]

ROBBED! Oh, man, you think Art Thieves are bad! So, after two years, @Lyrin and I were excited to go into our storage locker and then we noticed the lock was not in the "like new" condition it was when I left it. After some panic, we found the spare keys in my suitcase and opened our locker to find that over 90% of the contents were stolen. This includes a TON of rare records, old art books, bikes, and about 30 of my paintings. Some of the pieces stolen include favorites such as the Crazy Cat Lady (my icon), Meet Stinky (the trash can piece) and, like I said, over 30 more! IF YOU SEE ANY IF MY OLD PAINTINGS IN THE SF BAY AREA ANYWHERE, LET ME KNOW! Thrift stores, pawn shops, side of the road.

[richmeganews]

These Colorful Photos of America Represent One Photographer's Family History

This story appears in VICE Magazine's Truth and Lies Issue. Click HERE to subscribe.

I was born in Los Angeles in December 1982 to a Macedonian Australian mother and an African American father. I’m pretty sure I remember coming home from the hospital: It was nighttime; there was a street lamp, the sky, and a building. My mum was holding me in a Christmas stocking. I knew I was born, I knew who my parents were, but the rest of it I’m not so sure, though the memory of the shapes and light feels pretty real. I spent the first few years of my life in LA before moving to Australia. My mum recently admitted that we moved because she worried that I was too white for public school and too black for private school. Most years we’d return to the US to visit family in LA, the Bay Area, New Orleans, Atlanta, and New Jersey.

My dad grew up under segregation in the South, and saw our yearly trips as a chance to show me and my nephews and nieces a country he’d never been able to see as a child. Occasionally he’d tell us a story from being on tour with his band or recount a family trip to Detroit where nine people fit into a VW for a 22-hour drive, but mostly we just drove and looked out the window. We’d make detours to visit national parks or iconic places through the Southwest, always getting out to take pictures but never staying too long. There were some places we never stopped: Mississippi, Alabama, most of Georgia, the Carolinas, Virginia, and northern Louisiana. I didn’t know why until my dad described to us some of the darker parts of his life in the South.

So much of our family history was told through stories and photos. But the stories were never written down, and at this point most of the storytellers, like my dad, have passed away. I wanted to find out what else I could remember, and if the landscape remembered me. So I set out on a road trip to retrace the routes of my childhood travels across the South and Southwest. I returned to the bus stop in West Texas where my family had once picked up a stranded Korean exchange student in 1994. I searched for the ledge at the Grand Canyon where I had slipped when I was three. I stood in ancestral hometowns like Loreauville, Louisiana, for the first time, where a great-granduncle of mine had been lynched, and felt a strange psychic and genetic familiarity with the land. I visited the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, Alabama, where lynching victims are honored, and searched for his name.

Monuments Are Forever is my attempt to understand memory. My family’s stories filtered down through the generations have developed new twists or are missing key facts or firsthand experiences, but along my trip I discovered that in many ways these stories mirror the way we consume and understand news and history in our contemporary culture. America is often portrayed as being black-and-white—no nuance—just big, shocking headlines with little substance. The reality is it’s more confusing, filled with long-forgotten histories. But perhaps, if we dig deep enough, we might uncover all these stories and memories that connect us. We’re all just trying to eat.

1.) Cinder Block Wall On Division Street, Joshua Tree, California, 2.) Burned But Not Bloody Shirts, Los Angeles, California

Osaze In The Morning, Duluth, Georgia

Hoop Dance Under Overhead Metal Canopy, Page, Arizona

1). Couple At Hopi Point, Grand Canyon, Arizona, 2. Aundre In Barton Creek, Austin, Texas, 3.) Jhishir In The Morning, Jonesboro, Georgia

Trail Camera At The River Site, Glendora, Mississippi

1.) East Money Church Of God In Christ (Maybe), Money, Mississippi, 2.) Empty Lot Behind A Pawn Shop At 5654 Rivers Avenue, North Charleston, South Carolina

Monuments (!) Down The Hill From Hank Williams’s Tomb, Montgomery, Alabama

1.) Anka-Ku-Was-A-Wits, 2.) Castle Geyser Erupts, Yellowstone, Wyoming, 3.) Horse On The Beach, Assateague Island, Maryland

1.) Dayanna In The Morning, Jonesboro, Georgia, 2.) Respect, Protect, Joshua Tree, California

1.) Two for $5, and Five for $10. They Would Have Sent Us Right To Angola, Triple S Mart, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 2.) A Variation Of Raising One’s Hands. Olmstead Point, Yosemite National Park, California

I Finally Found The End Of The Rainbow But The Pot Of Gold Was Gone, West Memphis, Arkansas

1.) White Jesus Casts Spell Over Site Of Black Massacre, Loreauville, Louisiana, 2.) Josh Will Do Your Homework For $50, Forest Park, Georgia

1.) G Outside Of Lordsburg, New Mexico, 2.) Jhinajah Sitting On The Steps, Morrow, Georgia 3.) George in Georgia, Duluth, Georgia

Mum, Sentinel. Seaford, Australia

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Our Maiden Voyage

Pamela and I took our maiden voyage yesterday. Well, that's perhaps not entirely accurate … after all, I purchased her several weeks ago, and we've already been running plenty of local errands … but a trip to the gas station or IKEA feels insufficiently auspicious enough to be called a "road test". Yesterday, however, we decided to go on a fairly ambitious trek, a 240-mile spaghetti noodle of a route through the eastern third of Kansas, and we both performed splendidly.

You'd be surprised how long you have to travel out of Kansas City before you get to those parts of Kansas that match your mental image of the place. Before you can see so much as a single cornstalk, you have to traverse a seeming eternity of suburban sprawl: car dealerships, crappy home décor outlets, mid-range jewelers, pawn shops, chain restaurants. If you've eaten at an Olive Garden anywhere, you've eaten at every Olive Garden everywhere; I imagine that there are actually binders full of corporate guidelines to ensure that this is indeed the case, lest a customer encounter … oh, I don't know … a frighteningly unfamiliar tablecloth or something. And herein we come upon an aspect of America that really gets under my skin: its fist-pounding insistence on homogeneity, conformity, and franchising. The majority of its people either want the same things to exist everywhere, or they've been trained to think that they do. This goes deeper than a mere desire for convenience; I think it's really a matter of comfort zones, spiritual and otherwise. One can't be too far from "civilization" if there is a Red Lobster nearby. Perhaps to the average suburban American, Pottery Barn acts a stave against the threat of encroaching wilderness. For Mister and Missus Applepie, that Taco Bell there is the only thing keeping the wolves at bay. The problem with franchising is that such repetition among cities becomes mind-numbing and disorienting and disheartening after a while. Is there any substantial difference between the outskirts of Topeka and the outskirts of Wichita and the outskirts of Dallas?

Eventually, though, after yawning our way through miles and miles of parking lots and strip malls and impermeable surfaces, we finally found ourselves in some honest-to-goodness farmland. It's funny how quickly towns just kind of peter out at their edges … maybe a tire shop, a junkyard, one last lonely-looking strip-club, and then suddenly, before you know it, there's a barn, then some grain silos, and then fields, crops, livestock. Despite the dearly-held illusion that our country has plenty of room left, there aren't, in fact, very many empty spaces left on the map. There is no land left in America that doesn't belong to somebody or something, and a surprising amount of it is swallowed up by suburbia, but at least the areas left for crops to grow give one a sense of open space, possibility, "nature".

Thankfully, the chief part of Kansas, once you get past all the suburban development, is gorgeous. Hilly, green, splendid. Some of the country roads, the smaller highways, ribbon up and down gracefully over the wavy terrain, giving you unexpectedly grand views of farms and open grasslands, offering a soothingly rhythmic rise and fall.

I had initially gone out hoping to see some thunderstorms, some of which had the potential to become severe, but the frontal boundary had shifted too far to the north, and so the most powerful storms, the "trash lifters" as people call them, would be firing up in Nebraska rather than Kansas. Slightly disappointed, but still eager to put some road underneath Pamela's tires, I decided to head out as far west as Topeka, the state capitol. The name "Topeka" comes from a Kansa-Osage phrase, roughly translated as "a good place to dig potatoes." I don't know if that still holds true, as Topeka seems to have an awful lot of concrete, but it is still a reasonably attractive place. A small town, far smaller than Kansas City, Topeka features a pretty downtown and several historic streets with ornate Victorians and wraparound porches. The capitol building itself has an amazing copper dome, taller even than the big white one in Washington DC.

And, since we were there, I did my civic duty by rolling past the infamous Westboro Baptist Church, home of the "GOD HATES FAGS" crowd, and flipping it both middle fingers. I even circled the block so that I could have the pleasure of doing it once more, on behalf of all of you who might eventually be reading this. You're welcome. In case there was any doubt about this church's position on the matter of God vs. Fags, there is a giant banner hanging from the façade that screams "godhatesfags.com" in bold red letters. They also had an addendum, "EASTER IS PAGAN IDOLATRY", with a shiny new graphic of the Easter Bunny sticking it to a bent male silhouette. That's sure to raise some questions among passing families. "Daddy, what is the Easter Bunny doing to that man?"

Needing a place to stretch my legs and cleanse my palate, so to speak, I parked Pamela a few blocks away, and walked through a perfectly tasteful residential neighborhood, the sort of place where your neighbors will grab their pitchforks and torches if you don't rake your leaves. I wondered what the presence of the WBC is doing to their property values. How do these people view this church? How do its neighbors look upon this institution? With approval, or shame, or a casual Midwestern indifference?

The sun was low in the sky behind us as we headed back east, casting the most beautiful golden light over everything: center-pivot irrigation systems, horses prancing on the hilltops, cows congregating around puddles, red barns, silos. It was magic hour, and the orange-yellow of the dividing lane glowed with a surrealistic intensity against the dark asphalt. Windpumps and radio antennae stood black and stark before the backlit clouds. I pulled over into some farmer's driveway in order to watch the sun sink below a field of stubble.

I thought of the phrase "maiden voyage". The Titanic sank on her maiden voyage, though technically she did complete her smaller journey from Southampton to Cherbourg before biffing it in the mid-Atlantic. Was this trip really our maiden voyage, or will Topeka prove to be my Cherbourg? This was the first time that Pamela and I had gone any real distance together, and it was a small taste of what's to come in a few weeks. Once we leave here, we will have no home to speak of. It'll just be her and I, alone, getting lost together in America. Sure, it was fun to sing along to Supertramp while driving 70mph down a lonesome stretch of two-lane blacktop, but underneath all this free-spirited vroom-vroom yodeling, I could feel something dark moving inside of me. After a while, as the sky went from electric blue to midnight black, this anxiety became toothy and furry, and it started gnawing on my guts. My singing died in my throat. Somewhere around Atchison, I came to an uncomfortable realization … there will be a point, and it's coming in just a few weeks, where I won't be heading home after a long day trip. There will be no going home after I feel tired, or blue, or sick, or worn out from driving all day. There will be no home, period. It will only be the road.

It's gonna be like this, all the time, until I decide to stop traveling. I won't have a warm bed to come home to, no lamp over the sofa to turn on when I feel like curling up with a good book. There will be no sense that I'm just on a trip, and can easily make my way back "home" when I'm finished … "home" will be wherever I stop traveling long enough to unpack, or wherever the car breaks down, or wherever I decide to plant my flag for the next few years.

America feels different at night. Once you drive past the last of the used car lots or the last of the titty bars, to that place where the road gets thinner and there aren't any more lit signs, once you venture out into that real country dark, you begin to wonder if you'll ever find a safe harbor again. The only lights you'll see are the lights of people's homes, glimmering like buoys on the endless waves of grain, and most Americans in general would never open their doors to strangers. The only "safe" places you'll encounter before you enter this vast expanse will be the commercial spaces … hotels, gas stations, restaurants, and all of these require money to occupy. I suppose it makes people feel like they're home if they can spot something familiar, a beacon against the oppressive and menacing wild, which is why people insist on having their Arby's and Papa John's and Wendy's, names that seem as comfy and homey as those of relatives. But on a cloudy night, with no moon or stars, the edge of town can feel like an unlit shore, and as you roll past the last light pole, standing alone on the shore of darkness, it seems like you might have just crossed the leading edge of an ocean, an ocean full of danger and excitement, an ocean of unseen hazards, the vast and roiling ocean of the unknown.