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hogwartsmarvelmommy · 3 years ago

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Fallout of the century 🌑💔

Part 2 🥜

Read part 1 here 🥜

Masterlist

word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Angst & Fighting

My alarm was blaring way too early since it was Saturday. I reached over and clicked it off. “Ugh,” I groaned as I rolled onto my stomach.

“What are you groaning about?” Harrison opened my door and came and hopped onto the bed next to me.

“My life,” I mumbled, not moving my face from where it was buried in the bed.

“Oh come on, it's not that bad,” He said, urging me to cheer up.

“I told Harry we should date other people last night,” I said as I pushed myself up onto my knees. “It's been six months, we should both try and move on. But I can't help but think that if he goes and starts dating, that he’ll be gone forever,” I sighed. this was giving me a headache.

“Do you want to be with him?” He asked.

“I want to be with my Harry, but he's not my Harry anymore. So no, I don't think so,” I said, confusing even myself. I sat there staring at the wall, waiting for some sort of emotion to surface, but I just felt numb again. “I think my mind is broken Harrison,” I sighed, throwing myself down onto the bed.

“Then let's go and do something you'll enjoy, try and fix that pretty little mind of yours,” he sounded hopeful that i would agree, and i didn’t have any prior plans, so why not.

“Like what?” I asked curiously.

----------

The pins smashed down, with the loud noise. “And another strike!” I exclaimed running back to Harrison and Tom.

“Girls got game, gotta admit it,” Tom said laughing, as Harrison went up to bowl his turn.

“So, Harry talked to me,” Tom started. I looked at him unsure of what he was talking about. “You know, i never knew if those memories i had were real, or my mind making things up in a drunken haze,” he laughed. He was talking about THAT night. Over five years ago.

“You remember?” I asked, shocked that he hadn't said anything before.

“I don't think anyone could forget a night like that,” He chuckled. I reached over and smacked his arm. That night, it had been, well, it had been an experience to say the least.

“Tom! Eww!” I laughed.

“No but seriously, why did you never say anything?” He asked me. I watched Harrison throw the ball, going straight in the gutter again and I shrugged.

“Why didn't you?” I asked.

“Fair enough,” He said as Harrison walked back over to the table. “What's wrong Hazza? Not winning today?” Tom laughed. Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Oh shut it Thomas, you're not doing much better,” Tom looked up at the scoreboard and saw that Harrison was in fact right, they were both losing miserably. Tom walked over and took the ball, hitting only a few pins after he threw it. The day was good, easy, not full of expectation and worries.

----------

I climbed into the passenger seat of Harrison’s car as we dropped Tom back at his place. “So,” Harrison began. “Home? Or do you want to go on an adventure?”

“What kind of adventure?” I asked, looking over to see a smirk on his face. It was a look I was far too familiar with, a devilish look. “Oh no,” I muttered to myself as we pulled away from the driveway and started driving in the opposite direction of home.

We pulled up in front of a hanger with a giant ‘Skydiving’ painted on the side. I laughed as he parked the car. “No, no freaking way am I jumping out of a goddamn plane Harrison Osterfeild” I told him it was completely serious.

“What are the odds,” He smirked at me.

“Fine, 1-100,” I said.

He nodded at me and we both spoke at the same time. “77”

“Your fucking kidding me Harrison, how did you even know that?” I demanded. He laughed as he got out of the car and walked over to my door, opening it.

“It's your favorite number,” He said, smiling his cocky smile at me. I shook my head questioning what I had gotten myself into.

We walked into the place and paid for the life threatening task and then sat through an hour educational video and then were walked through the equipment. We walked over to the area with the suits and were instructed to put them on.

“I swear to god, Harrison. If I die, I'll haunt you,” I shot him a death glare.

“You're not going to die,” He laughed. “Hey excuse me, can you take our picture?” Harrison asked a person walking by, who quickly obliged his request. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him, a giant goofy smile spread across his face, I smiled as the phone flashed and the guy brought the phone back to Harrison. He showed me his phone screen. The picture was cute. I can't lie, but I felt a twinge of guilt with how much we looked like a couple, instead of the friends we were. I tried to push the thoughts out of my head, and try to enjoy this crazy ‘Adventure’.

We got into the harnesses and strapped to the instructors and onto the plane. The plane ride was bumpy and loud, and when it was time to jump, Harrison insisted I go first. I planned on arguing, but the instructor gave me no time before jumping out of the plane.

I expected to feel like i was plummeting to the ground, but it wasn't like that at all, i felt like i was hovering, staring down at the earth from far above. The wind and air smacked me making my hair fly all around and my mouth open unattractively. We fell for only about 45 seconds before the instructor pulled the chute. We glided down to the designated landing area, and once our feet touched the ground the instructor helped undo the harness. I looked around once the harness was off and found Harrison, whose hair was even crazier than mine. I ran over to him and surprised myself when I practically jumped into his arms. I felt alive for the first time in months. I pulled my face back a bit and found him and smashed my lips into his, kissing him like I had been thinking about it all my life, even though I hadn't. I broke my lips from his as he set my feet back on the ground.

“That was exhilarating!” I announced.

“I can tell,” He laughed. A man walked up beside us and handed us two disks and a Polaroid picture. I wasn't sure what the disks were but when I saw the picture, I was shocked. It was of the kiss we had just shared. If anyone saw that picture it was sure to be a confusing conversation. “Come on,” Harrison said, grabbing my hand and pulling me back to the hanger to return the suit.

For the first time in a long time, I realized I wasn't dreaming of the past. I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad about that.

The next few weeks were spent like normal. I went to work, I came home, and we ate dinner. I was happier than I was before now though. Things between Harrison and I didn't.. change much, a few stolen glances and smirks every once in a while, but there had been no more kissing. Harry and I hadn't talked, I think we were just trying to give each other space. And I was thankful.

I stood at my dresser putting on a faint bit of makeup for the game tonight, I was not dreading it, I was actually excited, to be back to normal. There was a knock on my door and Harrison opened it and smiled at me, probably thankful to see me in something other than lazy clothes. I had put on a pair of cute jeans, and a cute blouse.

“What?” I giggled looking at him through his reflection.

“I'm just glad you're back to your normal self, is all. The Hollands should be here soon,” he told me before walking away, leaving my door open. I rolled my eyes as I put on a blush nude shade on my lips.

I walked down the stairs, and into the living room plopping myself down on the chair that was now my spot. There was a knock at the door and then it swung open and all three Holland boys came in, cases of beer in hand. I stood up and hugged Sam and Tom as they went to their seats, Harry stopped in front of me with wide eyes and a partially open mouth. I held my arms out for a hug and he quickly embraced me in his. I felt a surge of electricity shoot through my body as soon as our skin connected. I let him go and he backed away, but not before whispering “You look really good,” In my ear. And from the look on Harrison’s face, I could tell my cheeks had gone a rosy hue showing through the makeup that laid on my skin.

We all got comfortable as Tuwaine pulled out the board game, a thing Harrison was known for doing.

“You guys want to see some pictures and videos of when me and Nutty went skydiving?” Harrison asked, pulling out his phone. My stomach tightened hearing his words.

“You went skydiving?” Harry asked me.

“We did,” Harrison told him, showing him various pictures and videos. Harry's eyes kept switching from Hazzas phone to me, and i wasn't sure if he was hurt, shocked, or both.

“I had a Polaroid from when we landed too, but I'm not sure exactly where that disappeared to,” Harrison lied. It was pinned to the wall in his room next to a bunch of other pictures of all of us hanging out and doing random things.

“That picture is cute,” Harry said dryly, and I knew he was talking about the one we took before the jump. He got up and excused himself to go to the bathroom. I waited a minute before making up an excuse to run up to my bedroom. Once I got there I saw Harry sitting on my bed, waiting for me.

“Harry-” I tried to say but was cut off after he stood up and rushed to me, taking my face in his hands and slamming his lips into mine. There was a distinctive difference between Harry’s and Harrison’s kisses, and that was passion. I found my hands quickly tangled in his curly auburn hair pulling him closer to me, not wanting his lips to leave mine. His hands traveled down my back and to my ass, pushing me into him, with a force I missed. Oh god did I miss this. He grabbed my butt lifting me to him, and my legs went around his waist. He carried me to my bed, throwing me down before attacking my neck with kisses and suckling, surely leaving light purple hickies for everyone to see.

“I don't want to date other people, I only want you,” he whispered. As he returned his lips to mine.

“Harry,” I groaned. He lifted his head and stared into my eyes with his soft warm hazel ones. “I don't want to date other people either, but I'm not ready. For this.” I told him gesturing to what we are currently doing.

“That's fine, as long as you're not sleeping with Haz,” He said. I felt my blood boil.

“What?” I asked, pushing him off.

“I just don't want you sleeping with him,” He said again.

“And so what if I was Harry? Do you own me? Are we even together? I’m free to do what ever the hell i please, and if its fucking Haz then that’s what i’m going to do,” i shouted at him.

“Well is that what you want? To fuck Haz? You want to get back at me for fucking Olivia?” He yelled.

“Maybe I do,” I said quieter.

“Then make sure you do it five times so we can really be even,” He sneered as he stormed out of my room.

“Fuck you Harry Robert Holland,” I yelled after him slamming the door and throwing myself onto my bed. I was shaking i was so mad.

God, I really couldn't catch a break. I pushed myself up and walked to my dresser and looked at my neck, thankful there were no marks to remind me of the things that had just happened. I ripped my shirt off and threw on a plain black hoodie and changed into a pair of sweats. I was not going to let him ruin game night.

I walked down the stairs to find Tom, Sam, Tuwaine, and Harrison sitting in silence. “What?” I asked.

“You OK?” Sam asked me first.

“I'm fine, are we going to play or what?” I asked sitting down.

“Are you curious where Harry went?” Tuwaine asked.

“Nope, don’t care,” I said coldly.

“He said he was going to-” Tom started but I cut him off.

“To go sleep with Olivia again, yeah got it. Let's just play the game,” I said, wishing they would drop it.

“Do you actually want to sleep with Harrison?” Sam asked, probably more out of concern for his twin's feelings than pure curiosity.

“If I chose to sleep with Harrison, it would have nothing to do with Harry, I'm not spiteful.” I said grabbing the golden peanut that Harry had gotten me for Christmas for monopoly. “Are we going to play?” I asked. I felt a rush of emotions as my closest friends stared at me waiting for me to break. “Okay, fine.” I said standing up. “I'll just go to bed,” And with that I stormed off to my bedroom.

“Y/N!” Harry yelled as he came into the guest room of Harrison's house. “Please just let me explain?” He begged.

“Explain what? I don't want an explanation. I want you to go back in time and not fucking do it!” I yelled between tears.

“Please? I'll do anything,” he cried.

“You know, I slept with your brother, about a month before we were together, so just know our whole relationship. I was comparing you to him,” I spat. It was a lie, not the sleeping together part but the comparing part.

“No you didn't,” he whispered, hurt spreading across his face.

“It was the night of the Bastille concert,” I said coldly.

“Why wouldn't you tell me?” he demanded. I shrugged my shoulders, not having an answer. He got up and left. I was sure I would see him again. But at that moment I wished I never would.

I was only in my room for 15 minutes before there was a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” I called out.

“It's me,” Harrison said as he came in, shutting the door behind him. “Tom and Sam left because the three of them rode together so they had to go find Harry. So me and Tuwaine decided to just call it. I nodded at him.

“Sorry about game night,” I muttered. I felt bad, this wasn't the first time me and Harry had ruined game night, just the first time it had come to this extreme.

“No, I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure I instigated it,” He sighed sitting beside me.

“Yeah, what was that about anyway?” I was curious to know what he was thinking.

“When you hugged him, he said something to you. You blushed and I got jealous. I'm not sure why, but I wasn't thinking right,” he was looking down at the floor.

“He told me I looked good, Harrison,” I laughed. He looked up at me with a dopey look on his face.

“That's what made you blush?” he asked. I nodded laughing.

“I didn't mean to shout about sleeping with you. He just accused me of it, and I got so mad,” I groaned, throwing myself back on my bed.

“He accused you of sleeping with me?” He asked.

“More or less. It was more like ‘I don't want you sleeping with him’ like he just figured that's what I was doing, to get back at him. Cause we all know that's the kind of person I am,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

“So you're saying you wouldn't?” he asked quietly. I was not liking the direction this conversation was going in.

“Wouldn't what?” I asked, knowing full well what he was asking.

“Sleep with me?” I could almost hear pain in his voice.

“Not to spite Harry.” I told him. Biting my cheek. Great another thing I picked up from harry.

“But you would, if the time was right?” He asked me. I sat myself up so I could look at him.

“Harrison, if the time was right, and things felt right, and we both wanted too. Yes I would probably sleep with you,” I told him, as a sliver of hope sparkling in his eyes.

“How will I know if the time is right?” he wondered.

“Um instinct? I don't know.” I laughed. He put his hand on my thigh, leaving it gently touching me. Was this the moment? Was I supposed to decide if I was ready to move on or go after Harry right now? I looked up at harrisons sweet face, with his gorgeous blue eyes and perfect blonde waves. “I don't know what to do Haz,” I whispered. He reached up stroking my face.

“What feels right?” he asked.

I thought about it. What felt right? Did Harry feel right, or was he just safe. We had gotten into such a routine, that there was no wonder with us. The sex was phenomenal, but everyday life was the same day in and day out. Sitting here right now, with Harrison, felt dangerous and scary, but not in a bad way. When we had gone skydiving, that was an out of the normal thing, and it felt invigorating. Maybe all I needed was a lack of routine. Who knows maybe Tuwaine had been right and me and Harry had just been a time filler for what was to come. Maybe I was supposed to love Harry and deal with the fallout of our relationship to teach me a lesson. Maybe I'd sleep with Harrison and wake up a new person, or maybe I'd do it and regret it. It was a whole lot of maybe.

“Honestly, everything feels wrong. The only thing that has felt right in so long was when we went out bowling and then skydiving,” I told him.

“Do you need a little bit of adventure?” He asked.

“Maybe I do,” I chuckled.

“Pack a bag, with warm clothes. And a swimsuit.” He told me as he stood up and pulled out his phone.

“What, why?” I asked, unsure of where he could possibly want to take me.

“Let's go to Hawaii. Have our own little adventure. Get you out of this god forsaken funk.” He told me, placing a kiss on my forehead and then leaving the room.

As crazy as the idea was, I did just as he said, I packed a suitcase, with my cutest clothes and packed my swimsuit. This could be an awful idea, to fly to an island with your friend, whom you clearly had some pent up feelings for. Guess we'd find out soon.

I set my bag by my bedroom door and pulled out my phone. I must have had it on silent cause I had three missed calls from Harry and about a dozen texts. I dialed the number for my voicemail and listened.

‘OK i know that that was shitty of me. Fuck. I just don't want to lose you, or see you with him,’

I rolled my eyes as it switched to the next message.

‘I know you don't owe me anything, but please, give me one more chance, to make this work,’

I wanted to give him another chance, I did, but not right now, I needed to do something for me.

‘I love you. I will always love you.’

I hung up the phone and dialed his number.

“Oh thank god, I'm so sorry,” He blurted as soon as he answered.

“I'm going to go away for a few days. I need to think about what I want and what I'm willing to forgive,” I told him.

“Oh,” he said.

“I do love you Harry, but we are not getting anywhere. It's like a game of who can hurt who, and neither of us are winning. So let's just call it quits. Take me out for coffee when I get back and hopefully we can start to sort this mess out,” I didn't wait for his response, because I knew if I did, he would change my mind.

part 3

#harrison osterfield #harry robert holland #harry holland #tom holland

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holdinbacksecrets · 5 years ago

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Finally

AN: Inspired by daydreams, fueled by quarantine boredom

His words were darts, shooting at you in the night. The glow of your porch light boasted little warmth, and you wrapped your arms around yourself.

You could feel his tension. It extended from his fingertips, following the stare that’s focus fell somewhere behind you. You felt exposed every time you shifted and landed in the glow of his headlights.

For the first time, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what he needed to hear, and you couldn’t understand the animosity. The emotional shift happened somewhere between the laughter at the bar with all of your friends and the drive home. The drive you expected would end in his driveway until he turned, surprising you, onto your street.

If your friendship is what you believed it to be, the words should be easy to say. The question of why shouldn’t be caught in the back of your throat like it was now, but you weren’t the only one standing here, holding back.

Instead, you feel yourself give up, deflating on your patio that creeks beneath any and all movement. “Shit,” you didn’t have your keys. Your roommate was home when you left, and you didn’t even bother to grab them, assuming your night would end at Chris’.

“I don’t have my key.” Before he has time to answer you you’re pulling out your phone to dial her number. You know she’s already asleep, feeling bad about waking her after a week of long, early shifts.

“Stop, stop” he breathes like the idea of taking you home is painful, but you listen anyway. This didn’t feel good. This dynamic was a place you’d never ventured to with Chris. You were used to lightness and laughter and hovering on the lines of something more.

“I don’t want to bother you any longer than I already have.”

Whatever has been holding his gaze loses its appeal as the words fill the air between the two of you. He reaches for your hand, leading you back to his car. The headlights had faded by now, and your feet cling to the gravel. The sidewalk didn’t quite reach the porch, and walking on the loose rock in heels was a possibly disastrous experience.

You close your eyes in the moments that fall between your door closing and the short walk Chris takes to the driver's side. After years of days and nights spent talking, sharing comfortable silences and tears as movie credits rolled, you couldn’t understand what was happening tonight. What had changed and was it him or you?

You nearly burst, trying to hold on through the drive you had taken together countless times, but Chris surprises you. His hand spans across your thigh and you can breathe again.

Those seconds feel so heavy. When you look over as he’s driving, and catch his tightened jaw beneath the street lamp, you feel it. You bring your legs up to your chest, hoping he can’t notice the bursts of love radiating off your skin.

You fall into yourself, swimming through dense thoughts during that last stretch of the trip until you’re pulling into his driveway. The hand that had warmed your thigh shifts the gear to park before turning the key in the ignition. It’s quiet for a moment, before your lips part, and your body turns to face him. If you’re going to say the words they can’t be weak. They can’t be mumbled into a scarf or traced into his palm.

Dodger barks and Chris’ door opens. He sighs and pats your knee. “Quick walk?”

You nod behind a shallow smile and follow him inside to slip into gentler shoes. Dodger is chirpy. His tail wagging as the leash is clipped to his collar and you’re out the door.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had walked so late. The moon fell in and out of view behind fluffy clouds. Street lamps cast shadows of you against the sidewalk and street. The wind whistled through the trees.

“Did you have a good time tonight? Brandon’s quite taken with you.”

The moment the words are out, it all makes sense. “Are you serious?”

“Well …yes. He told me he was excited to see you, planned on asking you out by the end of the night.”

Brandon was like a brother to you. He was loud, failed miserably at listening to you for longer than five minutes at a time, and the poor guy couldn’t remember your drink order to save his life. Not that that was a deal-breaker, but even if you found him charming and sweet, you could never give him your full attention.

You look for Chris in a crowded room like no one else exists. Making sure he was still around, with a smile on his face, and a glass in hand. If you were lucky, he’d meet your eye, offering a raised eyebrow that always said: are you ok?

You cross your arms and let the laughter spill. “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

“Who said I didn’t?” You stop, turning. Dodger paws at the lush grass accepting the interruption. Chris is searching for something, and you wonder if he had felt your radiating feelings.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to say it first?” His lips twitch and your stomach flips.

“What happens after?”

“If I tell you, that’ll ruin all the fun.”

You turn away from him and take a cautious step into the crossroad, “come on Dodger.”

You’re a few paces ahead of Chris. A gust of wind blows and you shutter; fingers collect wild curls behind exposed ears.

It’s not hard for him to catch up. Two full strides are all it takes.

“I did have a good time tonight, with you. I love our friends, but I’d be alright if they weren’t always with us, you know?”

He brushes his hand against yours and your fingers spread, inviting his to weave in between your own.

“Being at each other’s places isn’t enough, huh?”

Chris’ tone is light, setting this all up perfectly for you. “It would’ve been much easier if you had told me how you felt about tonight.”

“If I had let myself start…” His head shakes like the outcome would’ve been tragic. “I’m just sorry I shut you out instead.”

“Why were you scared? You must.. Don't you know how I feel?”

Chris always had wonderful intuition, but this wasn’t the first time you’d heard how hard it was to read you. Maybe love was the emotion you were best at keeping locked away, trying it on subtly, quietly, in the dark.

But you liked the way it looked around him- the way it felt. It was ever present now, slipping into thank you’s and goodbyes. In sighs of relief and borrowed jackets. In baked cookies and the calls that kept you sane when distance made missing him tangible.

His arms wrapping around you and your hand squeezing his bicep. I love you.

Planting flowers in his back yard. I love you.

Calling from the grocery store in case he needed anything because you were coming over anyway. I love you.

When he cleaned the shards of glass from a broken bottle. Eyebrows furrowed as he picked pieces from the palm of your hand. Maybe he loved you too.

It was time to turn around. The dead end sign catching you by surprise.

“Things could change if I tell you, and I can’t lose my best friend. They come few and far in between.” His honesty wrapped up in shields of humor was endearing.

“You know what they say about love, right? The strongest relationships are the ones shared between best friends. I don’t want anyone else but you, and I’ve thought about it too. Just in case you were going to ask me if I’m sure.”

You squeeze his hand. Your gaze swimming in his eyes, waiting, wondering, hoping to feel his lips on your own.

“What have you thought about?” He clears his throat, and you wonder if there’s a shade of pink sprinkling across Chris’ cheeks.

“I’ve thought about how many people I’ve ever done nothing with, who made it feel like everything. I’ve thought about who will listen to my senseless rambles about lines from novels that made my toes curl. I’ve thought about the person I’d call in an emergency. Whose smile reminds me of sunshine. I think about the only person in the world I’d give up peanut butter for in case they were allergic to nuts. Whose dog I’ve grown to love more than I thought could ever be possible for a self-proclaimed cat person. But most importantly, I think about the only person I see in a crowded room, and it always comes back to you.”

You shoulders lift in a shrug, like you’ve tried to fight it all with no luck. “You’re right here,” a hand clutches the cashmere worn against your chest, “and I can’t fight it.”

He’s looking at you, seeing everything, realizing the sun isn’t quite as warm as your skin. Realizing the medicine in the bathroom cabinet can’t do what your laughter does. Knowing no one else’s lips could possibly feel as good as he imagines yours do.

“I love you.”

Deep breath,

“Finally.”

You couldn’t tell who closed the distance and brought you flush against one another. In your dreams, it couldn’t have happened any better, because it was you. It was Chris. It was the organic conclusion to a chapter of maybe’s tied together by afternoon board games and dinners at his parent's house, yet the vibrant beginning to your romance.

You can feel the leash wrapped around his hand as his palm opens against your cheek. Chris feels you smile against his mouth. You taste the cherry on his lips from the chapstick stocked in his glove department after realizing you had a habit of forgetting your own.

Your eyes stay closed after it ends, leaning into curious lips tracing the length of your neck.

“I love you, too.”

“You have no idea,” his hand squeezes your waist, “how long I’ve been waiting to hear that.” Long lashes meet cheekbones when Chris’ eyes close beneath waves of bliss. His lips meet yours once more, “I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lil taglist: @evansweaters @someoneunimportantxx @siennarossi @sowhatshawn @fitmydaydream

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oncerpotter2018 · 4 years ago

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Plot:

Charles Francis Xavier and Erik Magnes Lehnserr were two different kinds of people who lives two separate lives. One is a tormented soul whose a leader of his own street gang in New York City, who has revenge and murder on his mind. While the other is a upcoming Oxford University student, who is optimistic and keen to spread peace to who he meets. Soon their worlds would collide in the most unexpected way. Charles will discover the reality of human nature and Erik will find what it means to love again.

A Banana Fish AU

Chapter 1

It was the last day of finishing College before summer arrives. Charles hadn't slept for ages, his eyes not tired as he rolled over his bed lying awake for hours. Charles had been accepted to the most prestigious and high ranked Universities in the world. He always dreamed of going to Oxford University, the long dream of studying and setting his goals for his bright future. He tried so hard to sleep that night but couldn't get his mind to take a rest until his phone rang that jolted him back to his senses.

"Hello" he answered.

"Hey, sorry did I bothered you?"

"No, it's fine I couldn't sleep anyway" Charles replied in his sleep as he talked with his sister Raven over the phone.

"Okay then, I just want say congratulations on your acceptances and to celebrate guess who got tickets to a long term place someone so wanted to visit for so long"

"Raven, what are you up to?"

There was a pause. Charles looked at the clock hanging above his door realising it was nearing two o'clock in the morning.

"Let's just say that someone will get a chance to finally get his once in a life time chance to take a look at his world favourite library in the world, go experience Times Square... Are you getting me now Charles?"

There was another long pause as Charles over thought what his sister said.

"Wait... Are you saying...?"

"Yes Charles, we're going to New York" Raven said finishing her brother's thought process.

Charles snapped awake, he couldn't believe the surprise that came from the voice of his sister. It was unreal.

"I'm shocked. I'm so grateful but wait you said 'we', what does that mean?"

"Charles.. Seriously? We're family, besides I'm not letting you roam New York City alone, besides New York is the best place to get the newest line of clothing"

Charles heard his sister laugh from the other side.

"So when do we leave, for New York I mean?"

"Tomorrow"

"Wait what, tomorrow?"

"Yes, now get some sleep, I'll tell you more about it tomorrow. Have a good sleep, by Charles" and before Charles could say anything else the phone went silent.

"New York" Charles thought to himself. His mind wondering where on earth did Raven get tickets to New York? He laid awake for a few more hours before his eyes got tired this time and soon he fell asleep dreaming about what New York City is like. He had only seen the State in pictures, in magazines and in text books. But seeing the real thing up close and personal would be a dream come true. An opportunity to take photos that would last forever. Make memories with his sister. See the place he only dreamed in his head. He thought all of this as he let his mind wonder of what America was like. What the people are like and who he shall met there.

A few miles away in the city of New York, a younger man by the name of Erik Lehnserr waits in silence taking another swing at his cold drink. He drank and drank until the doors to the dinning area bursted open.

"About time" said Erik, taking his drink back to his lips once more.

"Sorry I'm late, I wanted to be presentable for my dear Lehnserr" said Sebastian Shaw, a man of wealth and promises but with a cruel intention at his heart. He raised Erik like his own son after his mother died. He raised him good but the older Erik got the more unspeakable things Shaw did with his new profound toy to break. He walked in, sat on the seat in front of Erik taking his own drink in his hands. Erik didn't take his eyes off Shaw.

"Well enough chit chat, if you dare to kill one more of my boys to get my attention all you have to do was ask nicely" he said back, taking his drink tightly in his hand, his leg crossed with the other and his body relaxed in his seat. Shaw gave a little laugh.

"That's what I love about you Erik, protective of your own kind" he said walking closer to Erik now, his drak eyes deepening into Erik's own green grey ones.

Erik didn't flinch at his touch, didn't move a muscle when Shaw came closer to grab Erik by his cheeks and chin so he could turn his face upwards facing his direction where his eyes were.

"You have such a pretty face" he said "and such good lips" he said rubbing his thumb across Erik's soft mouth. "Why don't you stay here, leave those boys behind and you can have everything you want"

Erik grinned before whacking Shaw's hand away from his face.

"Not in a million years" Erik retorted before reaching for his brown leather jacket and left Shaw and his home. Erik had been keeping a grudge against Shaw since he was a child, and hated him for his lies that only he knew the truth of. Shaw didn't care for him, loved him as he told people, those guests who partyed in his mansion. The truth was Shaw took interest in Erik in cold hearted ways, seeking pleasure rather then compassion. He took Erik away, killing his mother in the process. With both sides at war, Erik's 'Brotherhood of Mutants' and Shaw's 'Hellfire Club' were sworn enemies. Erik swore to kill Shaw not matter how many times he placed his life on the line. Until the day Shaw dies, Erik will never be satisfied. Outside the mansion gates stands Logan Howlett, the leader of the X-Men as his gang wants to be called. Erik let Logan keep the name, it suited him better then what Summer's suggested.

"Don't you think it's about time to rethink things through"

"I don't know what you mean" said Erik, not looking at Logan as he walked down the driveway.

"I mean don't just go head first, have a plan and then attack"

"Since when did 'The Wolverine' thought things through and made plans. I thought you were the kill or be killed leader type?"

Logan used to snarl at that nickname but gotten used to over time.

"Hey, let me drive you to our hide out, I'm sure a few more drinks won't hurt now would it?" laughed Logan as he gestured towards his car.

Erik have a shark like grin and simlmy nodded.

"Okay wolfie, I'll join you and the others for a pint or two, but tell Summer's to keep his brother away from the older guys, last time it wasn't a pretty sight for the eyes" said Erik stepping into the car.

"I told you not to call me that and fine, but you are buying us the drinks" Logan laughed still hating the short hand version the young kids call him. They made it through the city knowing that to survive means to know what sacrifice means.

#Cherik #cherik fanfiction #banana fish au #sad fanfiction

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rachelroams · 5 years ago

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I HAD COVID-19. THIS WAS MY EXPERIENCE.

Important note: my story is just one story. There are many people experiencing coronavirus, and each one of those narratives is valuable.

And, while each of our stories may provide a window into an individual experience, together—as compiled by experts—those stories allow for vetted, reliable data.

Please look to the tried-and-tested knowledge from medical professionals as you navigate this health crisis.

And remember: I’m just a regular person who had an experience and wanted to invite you into the fold.

***

THE BEGINNING

That photo was shot four days before my symptoms began. It was March 10th, and I was on assignment in South Carolina. I had just wrapped a public speaking engagement in NYC. The U.S. was still figuring out how seriously to take the Covid-19 threat, so storefronts, mass transit, and most of the world as we knew it was still open for business.

By March 12th, as I traveled home to the West Coast, Trump had announced a travel ban on flights from Europe, and things were starting to get serious in the States. I made a plan to self-quarantine for 14 days so that any potential germs I might have brought back from NYC didn’t get passed on to others.

THE ONSET

On March 14th, I noticed I had a light headache and muscle aches. I attributed them to post-travel fatigue and went on with my day. Within a few days, however, my body aches grew notably worse, I was constantly exhausted, and I was starting to have trouble sleeping.

By the 18th, my body was in full decline, and the pile-on of symptoms got scary fast. I had the symptoms that most of the news stories list—fever, aches, cough—plus a whole bunch more. (A full list of symptoms is in the next section.)

Between March 18-25, I fell into the void that is Covid-19. I ran a 102-degree fever for seven days. I had chills. Shivering. Fever dreams that looped, and looped, and looped again. Body aches severe enough that extra-strength acetaminophen did nothing lessen them.

One day somewhere in the middle of that time frame, a cough came on so strong and fast that I had to avoid talking, sitting up, or even moving. Those actions agitated the coughing to an extreme. My body became fatigued enough that I eventually couldn’t stand, walk, or even sit up for longer than a minute or two at a time. I wanted to sleep constantly, but never got past 4-5 hours without waking up in need of more pain or cough medication.

THE SYMPTOMS

Here’s the full list of symptoms I experienced. They’re not all pretty, but they were all present.

Fever Cough Body aches Headaches Exhaustion Chills Night sweats Fever dreams Diarrhea Loss of appetite Clammy skin Red ring around eyes Loss of sense of smell Inability to sit up, stand, or walk Sensation that joints weren’t connected Sensation that knee caps were going to slide off my legs

(Yes, those last two are strange. Yes, they were part of my experience.)

THE TEST

My symptoms were notable enough that on March 19th, my husband called Urgent Care and asked what they would advise we do. After an interview about my condition and travel history, nursing staff said we should come in that afternoon.

At the staff’s instruction, my husband Todd put on a mask and gloves, and entered the hospital to register me as a patient. I was asked to stay in the car so that I didn’t come into contact with more people than necessary. After Todd returned to the car, a nurse called my cell phone and interviewed me about my symptoms and recent travel history. Based on my answers, we were waved through to the drive-through testing tent.

Nurses in gowns, face shields, masks and gloves approached the car and asked me to remove my mask. They took my temperature, listened to my lungs, confirmed my symptoms, and called a doctor to the tent. While the doctor ran through my list of my symptoms, triple-checking what we had described to the nursing staff, he inquired about my travel history. When I listed New York, he paused, turned away from us, and yelled, “We’re gonna need a Covid test here! This one’s been to New York.”

First, I was given a conventional flu test, and informed that it would be processed within the next few hours. If it came back positive, the hospital would assume I had the flu. If it came back negative, they would assume it was coronavirus and ship my Covid test out for processing.

The Covid-19 test was… uncomfortable. To test a person, medical staff inserts a 6-inch swab deep into the nasal cavity until it reaches the nasopharynx/upper throat, rotating it several times over the course of 10-15 seconds to gather a sufficient sample, and sometimes repeating the procedure with a new swab in the second nasal cavity. Normally fairly stoic, I had to be reminded to breathe during this process, wiping tears away as the doctor dipped my swab into a sealed pouch and passed it to the nurse.

The image below shows the handout I received following my test.

THE RESULTS

Within a few hours of our drive-through experience, we received a call from Urgent Care informing us that my flu test had come back negative. Next, they would be sending out my Covid-19 for processing. We were told that we would have to wait 5-10 days for results. The national average for results turnaround was five days at the time of testing (March 19).

In the meantime, we were instructed to stay home and treat the symptoms ourselves. The only exception would be if I started experiencing extreme shortness of breath (as per the nurses: “[feeling like I had run a marathon while sitting still, or feeling like I was suffocating]”), at which point we were to return to the hospital seeking intensive care. Barring that, we were to continue self-quarantine until both my husband and I were symptom-free for at least 72 hours. (Thankfully, Todd never developed symptoms.)

Over the next two weeks, we had a series of follow-up calls with nursing staff. On March 25th, I was told my test had been sent from Oregon to a North Carolina LabCorp facility, where it was “in process.” At that point, I was informed it would be closer to 12 days before I would receive results due to an inundation of tests needing processing at East Coast facilities.

Over the next couple calls, however, it became clear something strange was happening. On call two, my test was no longer showing “in process” in the lab records, but it was also not marked “complete,” which is the next stage. On call three, the nurse said my test notes now read “future,” indicating the swab had not begun processing, even though we were nearly two weeks past my test date.

THE MISSING TEST

On April 1st, 13 days after testing, the test was suddenly, inexplicably, not in the system. It was not listed in North Carolina. It was not listed in Oregon. It was not listed anywhere.

That day, I received a call from the Head of Nursing at Urgent Care. He informed me that I would not be receiving my Covid-19 test results… ever. He conferred, “[The staff here feels confident you had Covid-19, based your on symptoms and recent travel history. That’s why we gave you a Covid test. Unfortunately, there’s no way for us to confirm your positive results, because we don’t know where your swab went. We can no longer located it in any lab’s computer system.]” He continued, “[Unfortunately, this has happened a number of times now, with a number of different patients. Swabs have gone missing, and we don’t know why. At this point, I can say with confidence that we will never find those tests.]”

Somehow, between my Covid-19 test on March 19 and the swab’s transit to a LabCorp facility, my test disappeared, along with a number of others. In a nation with an already-limited number of tests, an unknown number of them are now afloat, unprocessed, and uncalculated in the national totals.

THE HEREAFTER

Regardless of official results, I believe I can safely say I’m on the mend from coronavirus. It has been exactly four weeks since the onset of symptoms, and I’m feeling mostly human again. While I still need to sleep 10-12 hours a day as my body repairs (my husband says I’m “sleeping like a college student”), I’m finally able to walk farther than the distance between the living room and bathroom. In fact, I made it beyond the mailbox this week. All things considered, that’s a victory.

As I take each day as it comes, I’m thankful to the body I normally take for granted. The partner who supplied me with Gatorade, prepared me miso, and noted my temperature three times a day for two weeks. The community of friends and family who sent love notes, funny gifs, and encouragement as I faced the fire.

As I place my trust in the healing process, I’m grateful for the opportunity to reflect on life’s small pleasures. Who knew it could be so exciting to watch a daffodil bloom? To note a Cooper’s Hawk outside the window? To get a good night’s rest, play a board game, or walk the whole length of the driveway? Who even remembered, in this wildly busy world, what a gift it is to simply listen to the breeze?

As I look forward, I send gratitude to the people deemed essential workers, whose employment at hospitals, grocery stores, restaurants, and more, requires them to show up at the front lines daily to keep our society fed and functioning.

As I acknowledge the vast unknowing that all that of us face, I encourage everyone (yes—even YOU!) to stay home if you’re not an essential worker. To get to know not only the inside of whatever building you’re calling home, but also the inside of your mind, your heart, and the wide expanse of space that is Not Knowing. To ask yourself what you feel today—every day a new day for asking—and grant permission to yourself to experience whatever natural, beautiful, and challenging feelings this whirlwind may ask of you.

THE AMA (“ASK ME ANYTHING”)

Do you have questions about my experience? Please let me know in the comments below. I’ll do my best to provide an answer.

I’ve had friends ask what supplies to keep on hand in case they get sick, what mindset I adopted during the healing process, what shows I was watching on Netflix when I was down for the count… whatever you’re wondering, let me know.

Thank you, as always, for sharing this journey with me.

You are appreciated,

Rachel

#covid19 #covid-19 #coronavirus #health #medicine #wellness #virus #pandemic #corona outbreak #outbreak #travel #newyork #nyc #new york

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littlev1234 · 7 years ago

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Driving Forward

Fandom: Dream Daddy

Characters: Lucien and Ernest (who are step-brothers in this fic)

Warnings: a character briefly thinks another was forced into sex (which didn’t happen)

Note: Lucien is in his fourth year of high school and Ernest is in his second year, meaning their ages are roughly 18 and 16.

AO3 Version: Driving Forward

Summary: “Normally immaculate eyeshadow and eyeliner threatened to smudge from the watery, red-rimmed edges of Lucien’s eyes. His adam’s apple brushed against the choker adorning his throat as he swallowed thickly.

‘Like hell I’m letting you drive like this,’ Ernest retorted. Rage boiled in his stomach, and it leaked into his tone. Whoever had upset Lucien had singlehandedly reached the top of his shit list.”

Slamming open the school’s side doors, Ernest rushed out of the building and into the student parking lot. Numerous vehicles of varying types, colors, and repair stood silently on the pavement. Only one person, a slim figure whose piercings and decorative chains glinted in the sun, was fumbling in his pockets for his keyring.

Ernest reached Lucien right as the older male pulled the keys out of his pocket. With the other’s back turned to him, he couldn’t catch the other’s expression, but he heard a brief sniffle that sent alternating spikes of anger and concern into his heart.

“Where are you going? What happened?” Ernest demanded.

“I’m leaving. Go back inside,” Lucien curtly insisted, his voice quiet and choked.

Slipping between the goth and the vehicle beside them, Ernest moved in front of Lucien and snatched the keys from his hand.

“Hey!” Lucien grabbed for them, but the younger held them behind his back and received his first full look at his face.

Normally immaculate eyeshadow and eyeliner threatened to smudge from the watery, red-rimmed edges of Lucien’s eyes. His adam’s apple brushed against the choker adorning his throat as he swallowed thickly.

“Like hell I’m letting you drive like this,” Ernest retorted. Rage boiled in his stomach, and it leaked into his tone. Whoever had upset Lucien had singlehandedly reached the top of his shit list.

“I’m not staying here, and I’m not letting you drive my car either.” He hesitated, as if debating on reaching for the keys again, before crossing his arms instead. He didn’t possess the strength to wrestle them back even if he wanted to, especially with Ernest’s recent growth spurt adding on muscle and broadness.

“It’s not like I haven’t before. Now get in before an annoying-ass teacher gets out here and sees us.” Ernest unlocked the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. Lucien followed in resignation, and they both buckled their seatbelts—a habit both Hugo and Damien drilled into them.

Ernest only had a driver’s permit, but considering the many times he had hotwired other vehicles or stolen Lucien’s car, he had plenty of experience. Despite the temptation to check on his step brother, he kept his eyes on the road.

Lucien leaned against the window and pulled his knees up to his chest, ignoring how the seatbelt dug into his waist. Inhaling shakily, he fiercely rubbed at the tears sliding down his cheeks.

Ten minutes passed in heavy silence before the older tentatively spoke. “…it was Clyde.”

“Your boyfriend?”

Lucien and Clyde had met early on in high school, and they had been dating officially for the past year. While Ernest didn’t know the guy well, he had seemed like a decent person: refreshingly calm demeanor, showed genuine interest in whatever Lucien talked about, affectionately held hands at any given opportunity.

“He’s…not, anymore.” His breath caught in his throat, like a sob threatening to emerge. “Earlier he was talking about how we haven’t celebrated our year anniversary yet. So he said we should…” he trailed off, running his thumb over a studded wristband over and over. “Have sex. And I…said I didn’t want to.”

Ernest’s fingers tightened, and the steering wheel’s cover creaked. He wished it was Clyde’s bones creaking instead. “If that fucker forced you into—”

“No! God no, nothing like that. Let me finish.” He finally straightened in his seat. Now that he had revealed the problem, the rest of the story tumbled out of his mouth surprisingly easily. He needed someone to listen, someone to empathize. “He told me that I owed it to him since he’s only had a one-night stand with one person while we’ve dated. I said I didn’t owe him anything, dumped his ass, and left. I can’t believe him.”

“I’ll make sure that dick gets what’s coming to him.”

For the first time that afternoon, Lucien’s distress waned, if only slightly. His appreciation attempted to soothe the ache in his chest. “Good. Just don’t bother fighting him; he’s too hardheaded.”

Glad to see the other calming down, Ernest grinned mischievously. “How about I throw a stink bomb in his house?”

“I know something better.” Lucien pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up. “I have the perfect embarrassing pics of him we can post online. You can help me edit them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ernest agreed, steering the car into their house’s driveway. After parking it and turning it off, he undid his seatbelt. When he realized the goth wasn’t leaving the car, he stopped.

The silver-haired male opened and closed his mouth a few times, debating on his next sentence, before settling with a simple yet genuine “thanks.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, the younger glanced away. “Yeah, well...you were sad, so.” He awkwardly shifted in his seat.

Lucien bit back a teasing remark; he could save it for another day. “Let’s get inside. We have some pictures to ‘fix.’”

#ernest vega #lucien bloodmarch #dream daddy #ddadds #ernest hemingway vega #fanfic #my fics

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andrewdburton · 6 years ago

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Exploring the U.S. by RV: The price of adventure

Two years ago today, Kim and I returned to Portland after fifteen months traveling the United States in an RV. Believe it or not, I’ve never published an article about the trip and how much it cost. Although we kept a travel blog for most of the adventure (including a page that documented are expenses), I’ve never gathered everything into one place. Until now.

Today, I want to share just how much we spent on the journey — and some of our favorite stops along the way. It seems like the perfect post to celebrate the start of summer, don’t you think?

The Lure of Adventure

All my life, I’ve wanted to take a roadtrip across the United States.

When I was young, I was lured by the adventure. I wanted to climb mountains, swim rivers, and explore canyons. The older I got, the more fascinated I became by the country’s regional differences. The U.S. is huge, a fact that most foreign visitors forget. Most American citizens don’t even realize how big the country is. I wanted to see and experience it all.

Although I’ve dreamed of a cross-country roadtrip, it’s never been practical. As a boy, my family was poor. My parents didn’t have money for something like this. As a young adult, I couldn’t afford it either. For a long time, I was deep in debt. Besides, where would I find the time? I had to work! To top things off, my wife had zero interest in driving cross country.

But in my forties, a curious set of circumstances came together to move my epic roadtrip from dream to reality.

I sold Get Rich Slowly, which meant I suddenly had a surplus of both time and money.

My wife and I got a divorce. When I began dating again, I chose a partner whose adventurous spirit surpassed my own.

One day in early 2014, my girlfriend Kim asked me out of the blue, “What do you think about taking a cross-country roadtrip?”

What did I think? “Hell yeah!” is what I thought…

Making a Plan

As Kim and I began to discuss this adventure, our biggest concern was money. As a financial writer, I’m acutely aware that every dollar I spend today is roughly equivalent to seven dollars I could have in retirement. Every day, I preach the power of saving. I wanted to keep our trip as cost-effective as possible. (Besides, Kim would have to quit her job as a dental hygienist in order to travel — a huge financial sacrifice.)

My goal was to keep our costs under $50 per person per day. In fact, I had high hopes we could do the trip for $33 per person per day (for a total of $24,000). But the U.S. is expensive. How could Kim and I make this happen?

From the start, we knew hotels were out. Even cheap lodging would be far too expensive for us to stay within budget. Personally, I liked the idea of bicycling across the country like my friends Dakota and Chelsea have done. Kim wasn’t keen on the idea. (Nor was she willing to make the trip by motorcycle despite being a die-hard Harley girl.)

After a lot of research, and after talking with Chris and Cherie from Technomadia, I came to a conclusion: The best balance of cost and comfort would come from crossing the country in an RV. With this bare outline of a plan, the true trip prep began.

Searching for Bigfoot

After deciding to travel by RV, there were more questions to answer. Neither of us had experience with recreational vehicles. Among other things, we needed to figure out:

Should we buy a truck and a trailer?

Would it be better to buy a motorhome and tow my 2004 Mini Cooper?

What about new or used? With used, you never know what you’re getting. But a new RV costs $80,000 or more — and loses value quickly.

How much space did we need? What kinds of amenities?

After crunching the numbers, there was an obvious “best choice” for us. If we bought a used motorhome, we could tow a car we already owned while (we hoped) avoiding a big hit from depreciation. In fact, if we were diligent every step of the way, it might even be possible to resell our RV after the trip and recoup most of what we’d paid for it!

We spent the autumn of 2014 patiently sifting through Craigslist ads for used motorhomes. We visited dealerships. We attended the local RV Expo. We walked through dozens of models searching for the right fit. Some were too long. Some were too short. Some were too fancy. Many were run-down and in a state of disrepair.

Finally, in early January 2015, we found the perfect rig: a 2005 Bigfoot 30MH29RQ. (Translation: A 29-foot motorhome with a queen bed in the rear.) The owner wanted $38,000 for it — a fair price. He wouldn’t budge when I tried to negotiate, but I was okay with that. My research revealed he was actually selling a slightly better model, one worth a few thousand dollars more than he was asking. We bought it.

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Over the next two months, Kim and I prepped Bigfoot for departure. We spent $2000 making minor repairs and installing a towbar on the Mini Cooper. We cleaned the motorhome from top to bottom. We took weekend test trips to RV parks around Oregon and Washington. When all was said and done, we’d invested $40,000 to get our caravan ready for the road.

Into the West

Kim and I left Portland on the morning of 25 March 2015, my forty-sixth birthday. We sped through Oregon — we love the state, but we’re both familiar with it — and entered northern California. We spent our first week on the road exploring the Redwoods and weaving through wine country.

Along the way, we got a crash course in driving a motorhome.

Near Cloverdale, California we took a wrong turn onto a cliff-side gravel road. We stopped immediately. Good thing, too. Turns out a week earlier some other poor soul had driven his RV over the side of the cliff. East of Sacramento, we took another wrong turn and found ourselves driving down a narrow dike road during rush hour while high winds buffeted the RV. Very scary.

At times we felt like Lucy and Desi in The Long, Long Trailer, but after a couple of weeks Kim and I had learned how to handle our motorhome, both on the road and off.

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Early in the trip, our expenses were out of sight. We ate out too often. We bought too much wine. We did too many touristy things without searching for discounts. We rationalized that since we were visiting all of these new places (and might never return), we might as well pay to experience them to the fullest. This was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, after all.

The problem, of course, was that lots of fun costs lots of money. Ten days into the trip, our average spending was over $120 per day (or over $60 per person per day) — almost twice what we’d hoped to spend. Yikes!

We tightened the purse strings. We stopped eating out so much and cooked in the motorhome. (We cook a lot at home normally, so this wasn’t a tough transition.) We bought a National Parks pass, perhaps the best purchase of our entire trip. (For an $80 one-time fee, you get one year of unlimited access to all sorts of government-owned sites.) We learned to entertain ourselves at night with books and boardgames and a hard drive filled with old movies — and an iPad filled with comic books.

During our 33 days in California, we marveled at the state’s vast variety of terrain. We drove through forests and deserts, skirted ocean cliffsides and walked across mountain streams. We hated L.A. traffic — not recommended when you’re in a motorhome towing a car — but enjoyed almost everything else.

We loved Arizona even more. Maybe we had low expectations, but we were blown away by the magnificent scenery of the Grand Canyon state. For nineteen days, we basked in the warm spring sun and admired the colorful rock formations.

It was in Arizona that we discovered the joys of drycamping (or “boondocking”). For the first seven weeks of our trip, we mostly stayed in RV parks and campgrounds. At $20 to $50 per night (with the average park costs around $35), lodging was our biggest expense — by far. Drycamping costs nothing. All you do is find a spot where you can legally park for the night — National Forest land, a friend’s driveway, certain businesses and casinos — and set up camp. You don’t have access to electricity or fresh water, but that’s okay. The beauty of an RV is that it’s self-contained. (Our Bigfoot had a generator for electricity and a 63-gallon freshwater tank.)

After boondocking only once during our first 50 days on the road, we managed to live off the grid for 33 of the next 80 nights.

Once we began pinching pennies, our travel costs plummeted. We weren’t spending $120 per day anymore. Our average daily spending fell to $50, which lowered the trip average to about $80 per day.

A Costly Repair

With all this frugality, did we feel like we were depriving ourselves? Not at all! As we made our way from Arizona to Utah to Colorado, we found we could still afford wine and an occasional restaurant meal. Plus, we were paying to do a lot of touristy things, such as soak in the hot springs in Ouray and ride the narrow-gauge train from Durango to Silverton.

At the end of May, we stopped for a week to visit family and friends near Denver. During this break, our RV costs dropped to zero — no fuel or lodging expenses while we stayed with Kim’s mother and hung out with Mr. Money Mustache — which allowed us to spend a little more on fun. Good thing too because Fort Collins has a great beer scene.

We hit the road again in early June, making our way into Wyoming to visit Yellowstone and the Tetons. We zipped over to Idaho to spend time with Kim’s father in Sun Valley. From there, we drove north into Montana to lounge around Flathead Lake and explore Glacier National Park. Costs stayed low as we crossed Montana to enter the beautiful Black Hills of South Dakota.

After celebrating Independence Day in Deadwood, our average daily spending for the trip was about $84. We felt good about that number. It’d be nice if it were lower, but $42 per day per person seemed reasonable. At that rate, the trip would cost us $30,000 for the entire year.

On July 8th, the tenor of our trip changed. So did our costs. We were cruising across the vast emptiness of central South Dakota when the motorhome’s engine overheated. We pulled off to give it a rest. The oil level looked fine, but I added more just in case. It didn’t help. An hour down the highway, the engine seized up completely. Turns out Bigfoot had “spun a bearing” and the engine was toast. (Also turns out that spun bearings are not uncommon with this particular engine.)

Unfortunately, we were in the middle of nowhere. The nearest town was Plankinton, South Dakota (population 707). Fortunately, the folks in Plankinton were friendly. The owners of the local garage diagnosed the problem and ordered parts. Meanwhile, we got to know the owners of the only RV park in town. We spent ten days drinking beer with Plankintonians while exploring nearby attractions such as the Corn Palace and the real-life homestead of Laura Ingalls Wilder.

In the end, the engine repair cost $7751.39. Ouch! We did not count this against our daily trip budget but instead factored it into our overhead, much like we had with the purchase price of the RV. (You might choose to account for it differently.)

The Expensive East

When the new engine was ready, we waved good-bye to our new friends in Plankinton. We drove through Minnesota to Wisconsin, where we spent a week in the Great North Woods. (At the recommendation of world traveler Gary Arndt, whom we had lunch with near Milwaukee, we took a boat ride out to view the amazing Apostle Islands.)

After eating our fill of Wisconsin cheese, we crossed into Michigan’s upper peninsula and then drove south to Indiana’s Amish country, where we rested for a week. (We also took the time to dart into Chicago for an overnight trip.) From there, we moved to Indianapolis and Cincinnati.

As we made our way east, we noticed some interesting changes.

First, there were fewer opportunities for boondocking. There’s less government-owned land in the East than there is in the West. (The western U.S. is largely government land, which means lots of places to camp for free.)

Second, while gasoline prices were lower in the east, everything else was more expensive. RV parks were more expensive. Groceries were more expensive. Beer and wine were more expensive. Restaurants, especially, were more expensive.

Our average daily spending started to creep upward. By the time we reached Ohio in mid-August, we were shelling out $120 per day again. After 150 days on the road, the average for the entire trip was $93.48 per day (or $46.74 per person).

By this point it was clear that we couldn’t spend a year on the road for our initial $24,000 budget. (You might, but we couldn’t. Not while enjoying the lifestyle we wanted.) Even $30,000 for the year seemed unlikely. We revised our budget upward to $36,000 (or about $50 per person per day) — not counting the expensive engine repair. We had plenty in savings, so we could afford to stretch some, but we still wanted to spend as little as possible.

From Cincinnati, we traveled to beautiful West Virginia, then north to Cleveland. After that, we hopped over to Niagara Falls, where we camped for a few days at a winery. (We helped bottle brandy and bought a few bottles of wine in exchange for firewood and a place to park.)

Stopping in Savannah

During September, we sort of lost our steam. The enthusiasm we’d had at the start of the trip petered out. Instead of exploring Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and North Carolina, we holed up in the RV and worked. It might sound crazy, but we missed being productive and making money! Being hermits saved us money, of course, but we felt like we were wasting an opportunity.

After much discussion, we decided to take a break. We spent a week driving around the eastern seaboard, looking for a place to park for the winter. We fell in love with Savannah, Georgia, so we rented a condo and put the RV in storage. For six months, we lived a relatively normal life. Kim found full-time work as a dental hygienist, and I launched Money Boss (which I’ve been folding into Get Rich Slowly since re-purchasing this site).

Our six months in Savannah were interesting. I had never lived outside of Oregon, so I suffered some culture shock. I always say that I’m relatively conservative for the Portland area — but that still makes me pretty liberal for anywhere in the southeastern U.S.!

While in Savannah, we didn’t just work. We made sure to have some fun too. Over Christmas, we flew to New York City for a long weekend, where we got to hang out with some of our favorite money bloggers. In February, we took a couple of weeks to tour the state of Florida, from Jacksonville to Tampa to Miami to Key West to the Kennedy Space Center.

Important note: By this time — nearly one year into our trip — Kim and I had both started packing on the pounds. Sad but true. We were eating great food and drinking great beer everywhere we went, and we were out of our exercise routine. Not good.

After returning from Florida, we began planning for our return trip to Potland. It had taken us six months to make it from the Pacific to Atlanta. It seamed reasonable to budget the same amount of time for heading home.

Old Pros

If this were a travel blog, I’d cover the return trip in depth. A lot of fun stuff happened during our final three months on the road. But this is a money blog, and I’m trying to focus this article on the financial side of our journey. As a result, I’m going to gloss over a lot. Financially, not much exciting happened.

From the start, the return leg felt different.

For one thing, we were old pros at the whole RVing thing by this point. At the start of the trip, everything had been new and exciting and even a little scary. A year later, however, Kim and I had things down to a science. We were no longer freaked out by little problems. On our first day back on the road, one of our headlights went out. No problem! Kim promptly repaired it.

The return trip felt different too because we spent less time with friends and family. While we did stop to see people along the way, we didn’t have nearly as many contacts in southern states as we had in the north.

Also, we spent much more time in state parks during the drive home. Traveling east, our camping spots had been varied. Sometimes, we parked in driveways of friends or family. Other times, we did drycamping on Forest Service land. Many of our campsites were located in Thousand Trails parks, which means they were essentially free. (Kim had access to an annual pass through her father.) But these options were few and far between in the Southeast, so we learned to love state parks, which are cheap and plentiful all over the United States. (State parks can get busy on holiday weekends, but otherwise are nearly empty — especially midweek.)

Finally, we changed the pace of our travel. On the outbound leg, we moved camp every two or three days. (We moved every 2.84 days, to be precise.) But going home, we intentionally slowed down. We tried to say four or five days in each location. (Until we picked up our puppy in Oklahoma — about which, more in a moment — we moved every 4.25 days.) In short, we stayed in each location nearly twice as long on our way west as we had on our way east.

The Journey Home

We had intended to spend six months driving home, just as we’d spent six months getting to Savannah. That was the plan. We knew that our first two months would be spent carving an “S” through the southeastern United States. And, surprisingly enough, those two months went as we thought they would.

We left Savannah at the end of March and drove to Asheville, North Carolina. (“This town is like a training ground for hipster who aren’t ready for the West Coast,” I observed.) We visited Dollywood and Great Smoky Mountains National Park in Eastern Tennessee. We dallied a few days in Nashville — home to the worst drivers we encountered on the entire trip (no joke!) — where we had a lot of fun immersing ourselves in country music culture. I was pleased to see the Taylor Swift exhibit at the Country Music Hall of Fame!

One of our favorite stops on the entire trip came in Lexington, Kentucky. For one, we got to hang out with friends for the first time in months. More than that, northern Kentucky is beautiful, filled with rolling green hills and horse pastures. Kim and I spent our fourth anniversary as a couple watching the races at Keeneland. And, of course, we sampled the “Bourbon trail”.

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From Kentucky, we drove west to St. Louis, then to central Missouri. My grandmother was born near Lake of the Ozarks, so I spent my time there trying to imagine what it must have been like for her as a girl 100 years ago. (By the way, did you know that the Ozark Mountains are the opposite of most mountains? Most mountains are formed when land thrusts up from the Earth’s crust. The Ozarks were formed by erosion when the vast inland sea that once occupied the space between the Rockies and the Appalachians drained away.)

Our next stop was special. In late April 2016, we drove into northeast Oklahoma to visit my cousin Gwen and her family. She and her husband Henry moved from Oregon many years ago, and they now own a 100-acre creek hollow outside Tahlequah, Oklahoma. (Tahlequah has two claims to fame. First, it’s the endpoint of the Trail of Tears. Second, it’s the setting for Where the Red Fern Grows. In fact, one scene in the book takes place on my cousin’s property!)

From Tahlequah, we doubled back on ourselves, turning east. This part of our trip was educational, to say the least. We got to see some of the poorer parts of the country.

We spent a couple of nights in beautiful Hot Springs, Arkansas, for instance. Hot Springs was once a booming resort town, popular with tourists from the East Coast. Today, the downtown area is a hollow core of what it once was (although there are a lot of people doing their best to save it).

Memphis was even worse. Kim and I spent several days in the Memphis area, driving down into Mississippi to travel the Blues Highway. This part of the U.S. is poor. Its infrastructure — roads and services and so on — is falling apart. It was shocking. (About a month after we drove the Blues Highway, we stayed a few days in Natchez, Mississippi, a few hundred miles south. Conditions in that region were even worse.)

Our eastward extent ended in Huntsville, Alabama, where we enjoyed spending time with my college roommate and his boyfriend. From there, we headed south to the Gulf of Mexico, which we followed from Gulf Shores, Alabama to New Orleans.

Kim and I loved southern Louisiana. The culture is distinct. The people are friendly. The food is amazing. It was here that we realized our favorite parts of the United States are those that retain a distinct character. You see, much of the U.S. has become homogenized. Indianpolis could be Orlando could be Sacramento could be Cleveland. No knock on any of these cities, but there’s a sameness about them despite the unique aspects of each of them. Cities like Miami and New York and New Orleans, however, feel very different. They’re unique. They have a unique culture, and they cling to it in the face of pressure to conform. As a result, they’re the most fun places to visit. (In each case, we believe this is because the population of these places is so diverse.)

Our leg across the Mississippi to Houston was interesting. And frustrating. It was the Friday of Memorial Day weekend 2016, and the heavens opened up. It rained and rained and rained. Texas isn’t equipped to handle so much rain. There was flooding everywhere, and roads became impassable. What ought to have been a five-hour drive to our campground turned into eight or nine hours of struggling to get where we wanted to go. We had to change plans and camp at the first place we could find with open space.

As you know, Texas is h-u-g-e. I mentioned earlier that the United States is larger than most folks realize. Well, Texas is too. During our nearly two weeks there, we visited Houston, San Antonio, Austin, and Dallas. Even with all of that driving, we barely scratched the surface of the state.

The Home Stretch

At this point, we were just over two months into our planned six-month return trip. We had planned to head toward west Texas, then revisit some of our favorite western spots from the previous year. That plan changed when:

The couple who had been watching our condo in Portland found a home of their own. The extended housesitting gig worked out well for them because they were between places. It gave them time to be patient and purchase the perfect house. But once they found it, they were eager to leave. (And understandably so.) As a result, we needed to return to Portland sooner than anticipated.

We got a dog. When we’d stopped in Tahlequah, Oklahoma in late April, Kim fell in love with a litter of puppies. “Can we take one home?” she asked. At the time, I argued against it. But over the next few weeks, she whittled down my defenses. By the time we reached Dallas — just a few hours from Tahlequah — I agreed we could get a dog.

So, after our time in Dallas, we returned to the 100-acre creek hollow where my cousin lives. We picked out our puppy (which we named Tahlequah, naturally) and spent a few days getting her used to the RV. When we felt like she was ready, we hit the road — making a bee-line directly for home.

But even when you’re trying to make tracks in an RV, things still take time. Despite the fact that we were rushing the last part of the trip, it took us three weeks to get from northeastern Oklahoma to northwestern Oregon.

We spent our first two nights with the puppy in tiny Kingman, Kansas. There, we enjoyed one of our favorite campsites: An entire country fairground where we were the only guests. We had the run of the place, which was awesome because we could get the puppy used to us — and we could get used to her. Plus, the fairground was cheap cheap cheap.

Note: By the way, we found this location with our copy of the book Free and Low-Cost Campgrounds, which was a godsend on the trip. Although we’re all accustomed to great cell service in cities, the reality is that most of the U.S. has shitty coverage. There’s just no need for it in sparsely populated areas, and most of the U.S. is sparsely populated. (This fact surprised me, by the way. For some reason, I thought the reality was population density but the opposite is true.) As a result, when you’re doing an extended road trip, you need important info in print format.

From Kansas, we drove through the most barren stretch of our entire trip — eastern Colorado — to visit Kim’s mother in Fort Collins (and to see our pal Mr. Money Mustache once more). Then we burned rubber (literally…two of the RV tires started to fall apart!) to make it to her father outside Boise. We spent the last two days of the trip visiting my brother in central Oregon, then on 29 June 2016, we pulled into Portland.

At long last, we were home.

Culture Shock — at Home

Once Kim and I returned home, we experienced unexpected culture shock. After fifteen months of what was essentially an extended holiday (despite the fact we both worked in Savannah), normal life felt…well, normal life felt crazy.

We were overwhelmed by the busy-ness of it all: the pace, the scheduling, all of the requests for time and attention. “Why is this so tough for us?” I asked after a couple of weeks at home.

“I don’t know,” Kim said. “But it sucks.” She was right. It did suck.

About that time, I read Guardians of Being, a short book that mixes the philosophy of Eckhart Tolle with the animal art of Patrick McDonnell (from Mutts). Tolle, of course, is best known for his massive bestseller, The Power of Now, which encourages readers to get out of their heads and be more “present in the moment”. I was struck by this quote from Guardians:

Most of us live in a world of mental abstraction, conceptualization, and image making — a world of thought. We are immersed in a continuous stream of mental noise…We get lost in doing, thinking, remembering, anticipating — lost in a maze of complexity and a world of problems.

While we were on the road, Kim and I lived in the Now. We were always present in the moment. We might have vague plans for where we wanted to be in a few days or a few weeks, but mostly we made things up as we went along.

“Where do you want to go next?” Kim might ask, and then we’d pick a spot.

“Where should we camp tonight?” I might ask as we drove to the new town, and Kim would find a campground. “What should we do for dinner? Should we visit that park? This site is awesome — let’s stay a few more nights.” Nearly everything we did was spontaneous. We had no plans or commitments and it was wonderful.

But back home, even without jobs to go to and few plans, the pace of modern life was staggering. We were always doing something with somebody. We scheduled appointments and anticipated commitments. We had to-do lists. We went to the gym three mornings a week, took the puppy to puppy classes, agreed to help colleagues, and so on. There was so much going on that there was never a chance to simply be present in the Here and Now.

We had no “margin” in our lives.

And the stuff! There was so much stuff! We had few possessions in the motorhome; we didn’t miss what we did not have. At home, even though we had less than many folks, we were surrounded by tons of stuff. Tons of stuff! So many books! So many clothes! So many dishes! So much in every closet and cupboard.

Kim and I were overwhelmed because we made a sudden transition from doing and having very little to doing and having a lot. All of the stuff and commitments comes with mental baggage. It takes brainwidth.

Even after we had settled down, we found it tough to resume “normal” life. Kim went back to work four days a week as a dental hygienist. I resumed writing and giving speaking gigs. We did our best to return to our old life…but it all felt wrong, like old clothes that no longer fit. So, we bought a place in the country. We have access to the city when we want it. Mostly, though, we stay at home and enjoy the relaxed pace with our ever-growing zoo.

It feels good to not be racing around so much. It feels nice to just be, you know?

Getting Rid of Bigfoot

Aside from the culture shock, Kim and I faced another problem upon our return. We no longer needed a motorhome. It was time to sell our loyal companion.

For some reason, we thought selling the RV would be simple. It wasn’t. From the time we started the process — which was eight or nine months after returning home — it took a year to actually get rid of Bigfoot.

We started by listing the rig on both Craigslist and RV Trader. Plus, I created a sales page that contained more information than we could fit in a normal advertisement.

We waited. And waited. And waited. Nobody seemed interested.

“Maybe we’re asking too much,” Kim suggested after a few months with zero responses. We had purchased the RV for $38,000, remember, and then spent nearly $8000 to replace the engine. By our reckoning, we had a $46,000 vehicle on our hands (and we’d made other upgrades too!) so we wanted $40,000 in return. Nobody wanted to pay $40,000.

We lowered the price to $38,000. As a result, we received a few email inquiries, but nobody came out to see the RV in person. We lowered the price to $35,000. We got more email inquiries, but still nobody wanted to view it.

When we lowered the price to $32,000, we finally got a reasonable number of responses and had a few people come out to take a look at the motorhome. We also learned that the price wasn’t the only thing holding people back. To us, the fact that Bigfoot had a new engine was a selling point. Turns out, that’s a red flag to a lot of people. Their reasoning is that if the engine went out once, it’ll go out again. This baffles me, but that’s what people were telling us.

“We’ve got to get rid of that thing,” Kim said last Christmas.

“I know,” I said. “It’s an albatross. Let’s lower the price to $30,000.”

After we lowered the price to $30,000, we immediately had buyers interested. We were flooded with email. One guy drove out right away to look at the RV. “I can’t have money for you until Monday,” he told us. “Will you hold it for me?” Given our inability to sell the thing, you might think we’d take him up on his offer. But we didn’t.

The next day, a couple drove seven hours from Sandpoint, Idaho to look at the motorhome. “We’ve been looking all over for a Bigfoot!” they told us. After several hours of inspecting the rig, they made us an offer: $28,000. We accepted. After three years of ownership, we were rid of the RV.

The Great Reckoning

So, this is a money blog. The most important question to answer is: How much did this trip cost us? Great question. We don’t have a precise answer, but I’ll share as many numbers as I can so that you can decide whether a trip like this would be worth it for your family.

Because I’m a money nerd, I keep detailed stats on most of my life. The RV trip is no different. I have a spreadsheet with detailed trip info, and I published trip stats at my travel blog. Here are some highlights:

During 283 days on the road, we spent 371.3 hours (15.5 days total!) driving the RV across the U.S. We put 17,250 miles on the motorhome and 17,718 miles on the Mini Cooper. That’s a total of 34,968 miles driven — about 1.5 times the circumference of the Earth! Between the two vehicles, we drove an average of 120 miles per day.

Everyone wonders about fuel efficiency in an RV. Well, it sucks. We had hoped to average 10 miles per gallon; we got 7.7. (No, replacing the engine didn’t make things better.) The motorhome consumed 2202.6 gallons of fuel at an average price of $2.48 per gallon. It cost us 32 cents per mile to drive that beast — and that’s only counting gasoline.

On the first leg of the trip, we spent a total of $17,137.07 for budgeted daily items. Fuel and routine maintenance for the motorhome and car ate up a third of that budget. Food (both groceries and restaurants) consumed another third. We spent $3086 on lodging, which works out to $16.24 per night. The remaining $2000 was spent on alcohol, fun, and miscellaneous expenses. (Our stats for the return leg weren’t as detailed.)

About two-thirds of our nights were spent in campgrounds or RV parks. We drycamped 19% of the time on the way east (but not once on the way home). We spent 18% of our nights in somebody’s home or driveway.

We visited 38 states. We spent the most time in California (33 nights) and Colorado (25 nights). We loved them all.

Arizona and West Virginia were the two most beautiful states we saw on our trip, although the area around Jackson, Wyoming was probably the single prettiest place. Charleston, South Carolina and Lafayette, Louisiana had the best food (the Midwest had the worst) and Ommegang Brewery in Cooperstown, New York had the best beer. The worst drivers? Orlando, Savannah, and especially Nashville.

To me, the most important numbers is what I’d call our “base costs”. These are the combination of gas and lodging, the costs for keeping the RV in action. During the first leg of our trip, our base costs were $35.09 per day (with an overall cost of $90.20 per day). During the second leg, our base costs were $41.25 per day (and I didn’t keep track of total costs).

How much you would spend beyond these base costs is, well, up to you. Obviously, we were spending an extra $50 to $60 per day, or about $25 to $30 per person. This includes food and fun but it does not include the cost of the RV and/or maintenance. (Our net cost for the RV was $10,000 — $38,000 purchase price, $28,000 sale price — plus the $7751.39 for engine replacement.)

And don’t forget that we spent about $2000 to furnish the RV before setting out, plus had to make miscellaneous repairs. My guess (and this is only a guess) is that our total cost for for the RV trip outside daily expenses was $15,500. This equates to about $53 per day. If you add this to our ongoing daily expenses, you get a total of $143 per day. Let’s round that to $150 per day.

All told, to live like we did on the road — which was living well — it cost about $150 per day (or about $4500 per month) for two people. I’m sure it can be done for less. And we met tons of people who spend much more.

I realize that not everyone can afford this sort of adventure. Nor do many people have the ability to pick up and leave their lives for six or twelve or eighteen months. In other words, this isn’t the sort of trip that everyone has the time and money to make happen.

But for those who do have the resources, exploring the United States by motorhome is surprisingly inexpensive. And fun. For less than $50 per person per day — plus whatever we eventually lose to depreciation — Kim and I are enjoying the adventure of a lifetime.

On the Road Again?

Here’s the thing: Our story is not unique. There’s this idea that RVing is only for old people with more time and money than sense. Sure, there are plenty of retired couples out there in brand-new $200,000 luxury motorhomes, but there are also a surprising number of younger couples on the road full time — including couples with kids!

Everyone we talked to reported the same thing: If you’re careful, it’s perfectly possible to live large in a motorhome on a modest budget. There are plenty of awesome side-effects too. The trip strengthened my relationship with Kim. (If you can make things work in 245 square feet, you can certainly do it in a larger space!) It taught us that we need far less Stuff to live than we thought.

The best side effect of all? Realizing just how awesome everybody is. I’m not joking. The media has whipped us into a state of hysteria in this country. The Left hates the Right. The Right hates the Left. Nobody talks or takes time to understand the other side. That’s bullshit, to be honest.

During our fifteen months away from Portland, we had two bad experiences — and they weren’t even that bad. (Maybe the people were just having off days?) Universally, everybody was friendly and polite and fun.

This morning, as I was finishing this article, Kim and I got to talking. “Wouldn’t it be fun to do a trip like that again?” she asked. “Maybe we should buy another RV.” Haha. Maybe. I told her we should put it off until next year.

Our adventure across the U.S. truly was the trip of a lifetime.

What are you waiting for? If you too have always dreamed of an epic cross-country roadtrip, get cracking. Draw up a plan. Save your money. Make it happen.

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