#it was all 5 DOLLARS LARGE PIZZA IS HERE 5 DOLLARS

[musickool]

𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑁 ₁

𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑘𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠:

ted logan —

type of guy:

sweet lovey-dovey dork, this himbo will be all over the place

as soon as bill mentions valentines day, all the hairs on his body just stand

the thought of him being so lovey cringes him out but he's just can't remove the obsession with you.

he's so tooth-rottenly cute, when you're around him, he just don't know what to do with himself. you approaching him is like him seeing an alien. either runs away or just freezes and breaks a sweat when you talk to him.

you’re his brainrot and ted's just sadistically a victim to it, completely wrapped around your fingers

musters up the courage and makes it his objective to make the most excellent v-day ever

creating planning boards in his room, preparation talks with Bill, lowkey stalking you at school

saves up every penny in his piggy bank, not wasting a single dollar

reads up on things on what girls would like

love language is quality time and words of affirmation

valentines plans:

excellent adventure ted— you first spend the day on an afternoon at an arcade; you and ted wearing casual formal outfits (ted in his tuxedo and converses, you in a dress and sneakers), playing on all of the arcade machines, giggling, screaming and laughing and goofing around.

he then takes you to his favourite spot by the Circle K, chilling down on the pavement. playing some UNO/tells you his wild adventure stories/jamming out to punk & pop rock on his speaker, sitting and eating slushies and a hot dog

OR

after the arcade, he takes you to a diner, ordering a classic American meal (two burgers, fries, onion rings, two milkshakes with the extra cream & a cherry-on-top)

finishes the date with a trip back to Bill's, awaiting a heartwarming surprise (aka the anticipated secret)

he cutely takes your hand and sits you down on a chair, closing your eyes whilst you wait. 5 minutes later, you take them off at his command, waterworks immediately start to run as you look at the sight infront of you.

ted, with his guitar, announces his special song for you.

hands begin to strum on the guitar, puppy loving eyes gazing into yours, heartfully. ted serenades you with a sweet melody, accompanied by his surprisingly sweet voice

in the garage that's decorated in cutesy heart decor; red and pink balloons and banners all over the place, you feel as if you're in a safe haven, enchanted away here by your adorable, innocent boyfriend

mid performance, ted brings you up to the stage, twirling you around and then dancing with you. his big BFG self towers over you, slowly rocks your body and embraces you tight with his bulky arms. leaning in his head, ted finally caresses your face and kisses you— signing off the most excellent Valentines day ever. . .

bogus journey ted— either takes you to the movies or rents a movie at the local blockbuster, so he can watch with you in his apartment

for the outing, he takes you to the movies to watch a cheap chick flick he thinks you'd like; popcorn, nachos and a big shake

at home, he puts on a sci-fi movie, both stuffing down on a large pepperoni pizza, watching contently

afterwards, you kick back and relax for a long smoke sesh, getting high on some good weed whilst he puts an arm around you, nestling and cuddling with you close

he'll definitely brings out a guitar and sing to you, smoking a spliff that still rests between his lips (typical lightskin moment)

one way or another in ol' netflix and chill fashion, the night ends with ted loving on your body— giving you the most ultimate rocker boy finale his bodacious girl needs . . .

face the music ted— buys two VIP tickets, for the both of you, to a summer rock festival across state; booking an all-inclusive hotel nearby so you and him can rest in with convenience (away from the kids)

packs all the necessities— snacks, water, a pack of beer, foldable chairs, portable fans, sunscreen, a pair of sunglasses, and a charging bank

you both get to the airport, getting on a plane and travelling off into the concert place

arriving at the hotel; you unlock and enter your room— spacious king-sized double bed, tv, automated bathroom and a great view outside the window. the hotel has an all-you-can-buffet that you never forget to not miss

following the next day, you dress up for the concert; you wear a house of sunny 'lemons on a plate' dress with yellow sandals, and ted wears a white t shirt and cargo shorts, styling up with sandals and a hat

for the whole three days, you and ted rock out to live iconic rock music. screaming, jumping, and partying; dancing like you never you could

golden retriever ted watches out for you; handing you snacks, cleaning after you, supplying water, emergency hugs, cheering you up

breaks into a chuckle and laughs when he catches your boomer self taking videos and pictures, uploading them onto facebook and instagram ('me and hubby @/tedtheologan rocking out at the _____ festival! party on, dudes ! 😎🤩😀😍😆❤️👩‍❤️‍👨💍⚡️🤘🤙🎫🏴‍☠️🎸❤ #____festival #summer #sunny #fun #mostexcellent #smiley #happy #happyvalentinesday #rockfestival #yolo #youngforever #foreveryoung #tb #throwback #80s #1988 #2024 #thenvsnow #wyldstallyns #mosttriumphant #rockmusic #date #valentines #couple #airguitar #happy36thyearanniversary')

last night of the festival ends with a colourful night show, fireworks lighting up and crackling the night sky. under the bright lights, ted takes your hand and holds them. warm, tall body pressed against yours, he gazes down on you with such love. gently caresses your face, hazel orbs boring into yours, rubbing the small of your back soothingly. he closes in and kisses you on the lips, passionately making out with you

the fireworks continuously keep lighting up in the background, looking like a happy ending straight out of a movie.

type of gifts:

handmade stuff: arts and craft/DIY cards with cute stickers, colourful glitter, ribbons and drawings (imagine him getting glue all over his fingers and hands, big 6'1 self hunched over his little creations uwu)— gifts you a teddy bear and says something along the lines of: "babe, i got you this teddy bear, even though i'm, like, totally your teddy bear... and my name is Ted!", some candies, 'girly stuff' like makeup, "..because you're a babe and all..", a handwritten song personally made for you (with the help of wingman Bill), tulips and roses he got from his England expedition, an antique necklace he got from his Greece expedition, heart-shaped chocolates, some tapes and vinyls of your favourite music

john constantine —

type of guy:

typically indifferent

depressingly and callously cynical

not the one to be celebrating stuff like that, but he'll do what it takes to make you happy

he knows it's still worth it, just as long as it's with you

love language is gift giving and physical touch

valentines plans:

literally remembers ON the day, springing up from bed and bolting outside. goes to like 30 different stores, searching for the best presents he can find

runs back home with last minute stuff before the sunset. doorbell suddenly rings and john opens up, smiling as he sees the love of his life, you all prettied up in a cherry red dress, heels and matte makeup (something is bulging...)

you and john get in the car and he drives you out to a late night dinner, only to be met with disappointment when the restaurant he spoke to earlier informs him that the reservations are all booked up

sighing in devastation, john bows his head and shakes disapprovingly. he looks up to give you a weak smile and rubs your back reassuringly, gesturing you to head back inside the car. the both of you drive back to his, decidedly opting for some Chinese

you both head back to his, decidedly opting on some Chinese

john resumes back to finishing the set up of the living room; red candles and roses on the coffee table

impromptu date begins: candle lit dinner in front of the tv, you both drink some wine and eat some takeout, watching a random movie

finishing up, you doze off asleep, snoring on his lap

john still watches the tv, glancing down on you every 5 minutes. he wraps a warm cloth around you, resting a hand on your back. the urge of him to kiss you is burning him alive but he remains neutral.

he's upset that the day has been ruined, the one thing that he could've gotten right all slipped and fell out of his fingers. his callous self for once actually cares about something, something he originally thought was 'insignificant', something he wished it could've gone more better

even though the day didn't go out as planned, you've insisted that it's not too bad—grateful for the date overall. it's small and disorganised, but as least it's something, , as least it all ended with him

types of gifts:

silver antique jewellery, a card, giant teddy bear, a box of chocolates, and roses

john wick —

type of guy:

DILF, DILF, DILF

valentines day with baba yaga?!

already got the whole day planned and sketched out, back-to-back

john's fat wallet's will treat you well

always 'knows a guy', so you know your ass is about to be showered to filth

the wholesome family man side of him will be coming out, abandoning the stoic, brutally cold assassin behind

no more john wick— now it is jardani jovonovich

love language is gift giving, acts of service and physical touch

valentines plans:

he would start the morning with cooking you a nice sunny side up and toast, a side of maple pancakes and coffee. whilst you eat, he calls up a spa centre and gets you booked in at a lavish clinic, ordering some men to take you there privately. he asks you to call up your friends, inviting them to the spa day as well. gives you his card and some change just in case. once you leave, he cleans up your plate and cleans up the house, decorating and preparing whilst you're gone.

a full day later with hanging out with your girls, you return back home, deeply relaxed from the tantalising spa treatment. opening up, the house is completely dark and quiet, only seeing rose petals leading off to somewhere. walking along the rose covered path, you follow it and halt at the dining room. right there at the table, sits your husband of 5 years, warm smile on his face; white polo shirt and jeans. he gets up to greet you, kissing you on the lips and forehead

john's whipped up a classic candle lit dinner, steak and baked potatoes with a glass of wine. after a nice hearty meal, he takes you upstairs via the rose-petal lane, leading you to the bathroom. you're welcomed to a bubbling hot bathtub; two glasses of champagne, face masks, scented candles, and a charcuterie board sitting on the bath rack. you two hop in and relax in the tub, slippery naked bodies against each other. you watch a drama series on his laptop, silently staring at the screen

one blink later and you're in bed with john. big hands clasping on your small waist, bearded kisses and pecks littering on your stomach, muscular strong body dominating over yours, stocky fingers slipping to unholy places; john ends the day with pleasuring you for the night, showing you what no other man but him can give.

types of gifts:

surprise trips, full package spa treatments, his card for shopping trips, makeup, perfume, high end clothes, expensive wine, a bouquet of flowers, chocolate, a small teddy bear, menstruation stuff (pads, tampons, pills, hot water bottle pouch, snacks, his masseuse expertise, baby— this man loves you), anything you want, name a price, john will be your man

thomas anderson (neo) —

type of guy:

similar to constantine but more open-minded in his indifference

either forgot or is pretty clueless on what to do

casually flips through calender and scares himself shocked as he realise the date is tomorrow

goes on a forum to ask for help: "@/cyberspacecatontheweb: any suggestions for valentines day ?? I (37M) and a girlfriend (34F) are going out on a date and I don't know what to do. sm1 help a guy out thx"

goes on the internet and researches on ideas

eventually gives up and just scraps the ideas, goes with the flow

love language is quality time and physical touch

valentines plans:

thomas wakes up early and gets changed; black shirt and suit on. you arriving to the 101 apartment, he takes you out to a Chinese restaurant downtown. orders quite a lot of food— dumplings, stir fry, sweet and sour chicken, rice, hot pot, and bbq ribs. he pays the bill and you two leave, walking out to window shop.

later in the evening, thomas takes you up to a rooftop, sitting down and watching the city below. he hesitates, but then opts to spontaneously show you 'something cool'. gets out a tech device and presses a button, opening up a cybernetic portal. jumps inside and pulls you with him. you both teleport to a white void, confused and scared as fuck. thomas reassures you and shows you some of his latest tricks like emerging buildings and cities out of nowhere, binary codes that pop up and creates a giant ass dog that almost eats you, floating and flying through a cyberspace wormhole. for the last bit, he gently grabs your hand and shows you the last thing he promised: binary codes formulate and change, syncing up together and creating a love heart. thomas presses another button and the heart opens up, revealing a cybernetically generated portrait of you and him, written underneath 'happy valentines day xoxo'. his hands move to your waist and he slowly kisses you, simultaneously taking you back to the real world.

types of gifts:

digitally-made things: flowers, teddy bear, heart, a picture of you. makes a hologram gadget that does origami, a scented candle he remembers you like, cool tech glasses, paired with some gloves, that's installed with a program that allows you to do things- holographic games and worlds all built into these spectacles (norman jayden from heavy rain reference)

jonathan harker —

type of guy:

mr darcy-coded

valentines day with him would be a fairytale, straight out of a book

sensitive, kind, chivalrous, charming, courteous, and hardworking, your princelike husband who will always know how to woo you to your knees

planned everything in his sanctuary, ready to show you how he can treat you well

love language is gift giving, acts of service and quality time

valentines plans:

you wake up to a traditional english breakfast-in-bed; hot tea, coffee, porridge, bread, and eggs, served by maids. then you're being dressed up for the day, maids helping you out into your modest and elegant attire, fixing your hair, doing your makeup, and dusting you down. jonathan escorts you onto to the carriage, heading off first to a picnic at an expansive, spacious garden. The place is embroidered with pretty plants and flowers, fresh fragrance of pollen filling your nose. you and jonathan settle on the grass, laying a blanket. you enjoy some tea, crumpets, scones, and sandwiches, admiring the floral nature. jonathan dotes you inbetween small talk, complimenting your look frequently. for some short time, you both get up and walk around, appreciating the afternoon. after the picnic, he hires a photographer to have your picture taken. you sit on a chair as jonathan stands behind you, posing for the camera.

shortly comes the evening and it's time for the special occasion. you both get onto the carriage again, heading off to a restaurant. the restaurant is filled to the brim of posh people alike, halls decked with chandeliers and embellished with statues and paintings. the pair of you enjoy the night, relishing and dinning happily. jonathan brings you back home, taking you to the bedroom to surprise you with a bundle of flowers and a toy bear. he kisses you softly and gracefully on the head, reminding you of his love. you both tuck into bed and lay down for the night, sleeping peacefully into each other's arms.

type of gifts:

a basket full of roses, lilies, orchids and carnations. handwritten poem, a card enveloped and stamped with a red heart wax seal, chocolates from romania, dainty jewellery, toy bear, fragrance, a trip to paris, tickets to see an opera and a theatre performance, small trinkets, fruits, and a pocketwatch locket.

kevin lomax —

type of guy:

sugar daddy kevinnnnn

toxic but fine husband

will absolutely spoil you rotten, pampering you like a princess

love language is gift giving, physical touch, and acts of service

valentines plans:

first thing in the morning, breakfast's being sent to you at the penthouse. kevin leaves a note on the nightstand: "hey sweetheart, it's me. how was breakfast? it was good, right? i've called in your boss to let him that you're sick, so no need to go to the office. your whole day will be booked: spa treatment, nails, hair, and a private boutique booked so you can try on some new outfits that you'll be choosing for the evening. make sure you wear that lingerie i got you and don't miss any of those appointments. daddy's gonna have fun with you tonight.

love kevin xoxo"

you do as exactly he says, rushing up & down, excitedly getting changed. a black limo takes you to and back of all destinations, attending all your scheduled appointments. at the boutique, a blonde clerk waits for you, standing by a row of clothing racks with designer clothes hanged and heels below to select from. after carefully selecting, you choose a snug black dress and heels, fully dolled up for the occasion. a makeup artist quickly does your makeup, just in the nick of time kevin arrives, black waist coat and suit & tie. you exit the building to find him standing by the car. his eyes wonder around and check you out, hypnotised by your beauty. linking arm to arm, you two are driven to the wall street restaurant. the place is luxurious; interior design opulent and rich. kevin grabs a seat at the vip section, inviting some of his fellow law firm coworkers along. you cheers to a good night and dig in to the fine dining, enjoying the night. almost midnight, you and kevin return back home, immediately jumping into the jacuzzi.

you strip out of your clothes and wear the cute swim piece that kevin's bought for you— a black skimpy bikini that hugs all of your curves and cleavage. you sit back and relax with your man, peacefully sipping some champagne and enjoying each other's company. many drinks and pillowtalks later, the night ends with what you exactly expects: sounds of skin slapping and bed shaking; your moans echo throughout the bedroom. kevin's tall body thrusts repeatedly into you, grunting and groaning as he fucks you. lasting with the real pillow princess treatment, kevin worships your body and makes love to you, showing you who you really belong to. . .

types of gifts:

expensive makeup, luxury trips abroad, designer outfits, exclusive spa treatments, sexy lingerie, his black card for those shopping trips, perfume, deluxe jewellery and accessories, a bouquet of roses tied in a bow, heart-box of chocolates, expensive wine and champagne, adult toys (wink wink), a white teddy bear, polaroid photos of you and him

[col0rlord]

fortnite? ~P.B.

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

Warning: smut, strap, fingering, p eating.

———————————————————————

This is getting really annoying. We just came back from winter break and some of us had to move dorms. I was included in that. I just got done unpacking and started

studying for my physics final, but my dorm neighbor was blaring 

Dangerously In Love by Beyonce and it was getting annoying. It was like 10 o’clock and I know I wasn’t the only one annoyed over this. The song was good after about the first time but after the third time it played was enough. 

After a song ended I thought it was over, Till it played again. I slammed my head on the desk and sighed. 

“That’s it” I said as I stood up and walked over to the door next door. 

Knock

Knock

Knock

“If you are going to blare music at least change the song” I yelled at the door looking  at the frame on the top. The door swung open and there stood Her. Paige. I have known her since freshman year of High school. She always was a flirt to me, but I never felt for that. I think that got on her nerve and she made it a goal in life to get me to bend over her knee and beg for her to fuck me

“Paige” I said crossing my arms and resting all my weight on leg

“Y/N” she said back. Hand still on the door as she looked me up and down 

“Finally came for this dick?” she said, licking the inside of her lips and smirking.

Don’t

Not going to lie, it was hard saying no sometimes. Right now was one of those times. The gray sweat pants and white T-shirt. Her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

Don’t

I rolled my eyes and finally uncrossed my arms. “If I knew you would be in this dorm I would have requested to move. Some of us actually are in school to learn and not just play games all the time. Please turn the music down.” I said standing there looking into her eyes waiting for a response.

Her staring back was kinda intimidating to me. I slightly shifted my weight to the other leg.

“So you want to come inside?” She asked, smiling and swinging her other arm before looking down and looking back at me. 

I just groaned and stormed back to my room and locked the door. 

“Call if you need me.” She said before I shut my door and locked it. These feelings are going to get let loose and spill out of the floor. She is going to stab me with her words and it’s all going to spill out from my heart. Sometimes I wish she never spoke to me, but if that happened we wouldn't be here now would we.

After my little rant in my head I felt my stomach turn and rumble. I was planning on ordering pizza, but got distracted. 

I opened my phone and pulled up the Papa John's app and ordered a large sausage, hoping to save some for other days so I don’t have to meal prep for this week.

After about 30 minutes of watching tiktok and tracking the pizza it finally got here. Walking to the door, opening it and nothing being there. No person and no pizza. 

“Well what the hell?” I asked as I stepped out of my door and looked around for it.

Walking to the door of the dorm building thinking they just couldn’t get inside, but still. No luck. 

This leaves me one option. Paige. Asking Paige for this was hard because I knew she was going to give me shit. 

Walking over to the door hesitating to knock, but I was really hungry and that pizza sounded really good at the moment.

Knock

Knock

Knock

Waiting for her to open the door was probably the longest minutes of my life. She swung the door open and was chewing on something and smiling.

“Thanks for the food, you for dessert?” She asked me, looking me up and down again. 

“I’m just here for my food that you stole and I want it back and at least 5 dollars for the slice you clearly ate.” I told her crossing my leaning my top half forward and rocking back on my heels.

She moved over and swayed her arm for me to walk in. “Or you could stay with me and KK?” She asked. I leaned over to look inside and saw her sitting on the couch playing Fortnite waving at me. I waved back and gave a slight smile.

At least we won't be alone together so I caved. “Fine. You have Ranch?” I asked her to walk in and grabbed a paper plate that was laying out. 

“Yes. It’s in the fridge. There is sugar free soda in there too. Sprite and Orange soda.” She says, closing the door and locking it going back to sit next to KK tucking her feet in and watching as she was playing hyping her up. 

I walked over to watch and eat my pizza. I was debating where to sit because I did not want to sit next to Paige on the conch so I just sat on the floor by her legs. Setting the soda I pulled out and placed it on the coffee table along with my plate. My brother plays fortnite and I watched him so I kinda understood what was going on. Never played, but was fun to watch.

“KK RIGHT NEXT TO YOU!” Paige yelled pointing to the screen and then she died. She threw her controller down and groaned. She got 3rd. Wasn’t that bad.

“Kk why the hell did you not listen to me? I told you to keep watch on the left because the medallion was there looking for you.” She said throwing her arm to TV and grabbing the controller and readying up for her turn. 

“Man, I'm over this game. I’m taking a shower.” She said standing up and walking over to the bathroom. Leaving me and Paige alone. Just what I was trying to avoid. Ok maybe this was my time to leave. 

Paige looked over at me and smiled. “Want to give it a try?” She asked me, handing me the controller. I was about to shoot myself. I have never played before so this means she was going to have to teach me and then we have a whole movie moment and kiss then it turns to something more and- 

“Sure.” I said grabbing the controller.

“I have never played before.” I asked, looking at her. “I’ll teach you.” She grabbed the controller and flipped it over.

“This one is like aiming and this one shoots. This Jumps, Reload, Move, look, and building is something you just grow to learn about. Just try this for now.” she explained as she pointed and landed the character. 

“I’m going to be so bad at this game. You play and I’ll watch” I said as I was watching the screen and handing it back to her. 

She just laughed and went along with playing. 

“I’ll watch you and study and maybe next time we can try playing.” I said as I watched her fingers move on the controller. Watching what buttons she was pressing and her finger movements shifting from one button to the next. This was kinda hot in the way she was moving them. 

“You should watch the screen to see what the movements are like. Unless you want to cut this short and want me to put these in you.” She said smiling and wiggling her fingers as if she was fingering the air.

OH-

“I can’t stand you sometimes.” I said, shaking my head and looking at the screen. She just smiled and shifted around to get more comfortable. I finally stood up and sat where KK was sitting right next to her. Never been this close to her since the party after they got to the final fours and we were drunk. Some movements that night weren't the best. She looked over at me and smiled as she moved closer as if I wasn’t going to see this. 

“How about everytime I kill someone, you take a piece of clothing off. LIke truth or strip.” She said, Not moving her eyes from the screen. That one was new. From the thought of what could lead you you felt yourself get wet. The cold touching you sends shivers up your back. I liked where this was going so I agreed. Right after I said yes she killed someone. her biting her bottom lip and smiled at me. Moving her legs to set on the grounds and she seems focused now. 

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Thank the lord I haven’t showered yet and still had my bra on. After I threw it in front of her hoping to mess her up, she didn’t budge. She was locked in. about 7 minutes later she killed another. I slid my pants down and threw them in front of her again and she side eyed me this time and bit her lips letting out the breath she was holding. 

Coming to the end of the game she only had two kills and there were three people left including her. No way she would kill these people and win this. 

I sat watching her to see if this was going to happen or not. 

“If you win I’ll have sex with you right here right now.” I told her. She licked her lips and she rubbed her hand ver her face to try and focus on the game. 

“You being half naked next to me is not helping me focus.” She said covering her eyes and rubbing them with her fingers. 

She heard shots from the TV and then snapped back from her state and ran her character over to where she heard the sound from. 

“One is already low from the other guy and so this should be easy.” She said shooting at on guy and killing him.

“Boom anddddddd Boom.” She said as she snipped the last person and killed them with a headshot.

After she did an emote on the guy she grabbed my face and kissed me. Crawling up to me and moving her hands to unclamp my bra. Sliding the straps down my arms and letting my bra fall next to the couch. I pulled at the back of her neck to deepen the kiss. She pushed her knee in between my legs and applied presser to where I needed her most and let out a moan into her mouth. 

She then took her left hand and slid it down the front of my panties and rubbed circles around my bud. Wanting her deep inside me. She finally pulled back and looked me in my eyes and seconds later she put two fingers inside me. My eyes widened and I gasped and flung my hand to hold her wrist. She started slowly moving her arm back and forth. Just enough to tease me. Just the sheer thought of the fact that it was Paige Bueckers inside me right now was enough to make me cum all over her fingers. She pulled her fingers out and stuck them inside my mouth. 

“You must have wanted me just as much as I wanted you for you to have cum that quick.” She said before removing her fingers and putting them in her mouth. Moaning as she sucked off everything that I coded. 

“God I wanted to know what this tasted like in real time. All the nights I lay humping my pillow wanting to know what it felt like to be inside you and taste you. The one thing I have been wanting to know for years and years.” She said moving her eyes from one of mine to the other. 

She dipped her hand back in my pants and pushed her fingers back inside of me. Her fingers go in and out of me at a fast pace. I have never felt pleasure like this in my life and I loved it. This feeling was like filling a water balloon up to the point it was about to pop and explode all over the place. 

A sense of pleasure washed over me and that's when I let go and came. I closed my eyes and let it all out. 

“Holy fuckk” I heard her say as she watched me. I opened my eyes and saw that her shirt was soaking wet and that her pants were wet too. I was in shock with how much cum there was. I looked at the couch and saw a wet spot too.

“Oh yes baby that was so hot.” She told me licking it up from all over my legs and her mouth. She stood up and reacted to my hand to help me up. 

I stood up and she was playing with the hem of my panties. “I killed them both so take these off.” 

After she said that she ripped them down to the floor and I kicked them off somewhere. 

She grabbed my hand and led me to what I assume was her room. She closed the door behind us and locked it. She pushed me on the bed to where my legs were off the edge. I bring them up to where I am resting my heels on the edge. 

Paige then gets on her knees in front of me and dips her head in and gives it just a kitty lick. I threw my head into the bed and arched my back. God this girl was going to be the death of me and I was not complaining. 

She then connected her lips with my clit and kissed it, pulling back with a smile and lip bite. The sensation of the little touch was enough to make the room drop about 20°. I needed this girl to touch me in ways that were going to make me go to church next sunday. 

“Paige please I need you to touch me please. I can’t handle the teasing from you anymore. I have wanted this for too long and you are making me want more than I can handle.” I told her as I reached for her head to pull her in, but she dodged me. 

“I know baby, I know. Just let me take you there. I promise you will get there. Just takes time. Have you ever felt like this?” She asked, darting her eyes to where we were just connected. She was hungry and I was her food. Like a husky caring for a pup, yet wanting to play rough. 

I shook my head no, because honestly no one has ever been able to turn me on and touch me in the way she does. She had that power, the lust. The power of control.That's what I was under. Her control. She can control me. Manipulate me. 

“Let me Show you.” She and wrapping her arms around me to pull me closer to her mouth. She looked down at me with desire. She was loving this just as much as me. 

She connected once more and sucked a little harder. Her tongue coming out her mouth, flat to run a strip on my entrance. 

I felt every taste bub on her tough hit me sending waves of chills run threw me. Feeling like I was getting pumped with fluid. Paige fluid running in my veins and arteries. Like I need it to survive. 

She pulled away and looks me in the doorways to my soul. “I want you to come so hard, and look at me as it happens. So you know who is making you feel that good. So if anyone ever touches you the way I do you have the image of me right here in front of you doing this. So you know the first time and remember the feeling of me and my fingers. My mouth working on you like this.” She said rubbing circles on my clit watching it and watching as I pules. Begging for more of her, more of her touch. 

I just wanted to feel this feeling she is talking about. The anticipation was eating me up from the inside. “Please. Paige I don’t think I can take this anymore. Telling me how you will make me feel and not knowing what it will feel like. This is going to drive me insane.”  I told her as I grabbed the back of her head pulling her to me. I needed more. This wasn't a want. I felt as if I was going to Shrivel up and die. She was what was going to drain me of all the nutrients I needed.

I think that was what set her off, because she dived in. Acting like she was a dog training to stay still and listen to commands. Under her I couldn’t control my movements. It was like I was being brought back to life. Soul sucking and being dropped back in. 

I felt her hand creep up and Insert itself inside me. 

This was that feeling. No one has ever done this on me is wild. I wish people did this a lot more, but I am happy it is paige doing this t me. Making me like this. All for her. She could kill me right now and I won't feel anything, Won’t do anything. Won’t be anything. But for her. I would be something. Something she will remember. Something she would want again. 

My mind is fuzzy with the thoughts of what she could do to me, What she is doing to me. Pumping her index and middle finger inside me as her mouth was sucking and poping my clit out her mouth. 

“I’m so close. Fuck. Please, Don’t stop Paige. “I said grinding against her mouth for more. Riding her face to get me there. Looking down at her as I throw my hips around hitting her nose. Grazing it over my clit.  Oh just to see her like this and not arguing back with me was showing me exactly what I was lacking in my life.

I felt as if my hips were going numb from the feeling and the movements I was doing. My legs were shaking as I brought them up to my chest and grabbed them. She moved her hand from under me to the back of my thigh to hold me open for her. She stood up, but kept her head down and bent her top half forward. 

She started pumping her fingers inside me faster and I was seeing black spots everywhere. Was this the last thing I would see before passing out? Like greening out on weed, was I doing it with Sex? Paiging out? I felt Nauseous, But loved it. Being overwhelmed with the idea of her and was about to have a panic attack? No. I don’t want that. I was in space drifting in the sky

Just like that I was over. Coming down to earth and falling on the ground with flowers growing around me and Paige. Slamming me back in her room on her bed. Bring me back and feel her fingers and mouth away from me. She sat looking at me licking her fingers and swiping her mouth with her middle finger and placed it back in her mouth. 

“This could be my sweetener if I wanted.” She said placing her tongue on the inside of my thighs. Licking the drops rolling down my leg. 

“I could go all night tasting you. It's like licking angel tears.”  She told me as she came up to kiss me. Connecting our lips to share what she tastes of me.

She came up and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I didn't even know came out of me.

“Oh baby. Did that feel good? You want more?” She asked. I didn’t even know if I could take more. If tears fell from my eyes and I didn’t even know it. That was enough, but my body craved more of her. I need you inside me more than anything else.

“Yes” I said without even thinking twice. I need this girl to take me to a whole new level. I needed the standards to be raised if anyone else was even going to cross my mind. I needed her to teleport us to a whole new place.

“I’ll go get ready as you calm down from your high.” she said leaving me on her bed and walking to the clothest to grab something and walking out the room. I stared at the ceilling as she did everything she needed.

As she walked out I could hear KK saying something to her, but my mind was too fuzzy to comprehend what was being said. 

I heard the water in the bathroom running and the front door close. I was being brought down to the earth slowly and calming. I could hear tapping on the window and that is what brought me out this trance and I looked over to the window and saw water droplets collect on the window and start racing down. 

The door opened to reveal Paige wearing a strap around her waist. This was new. I never even had owned one of those and to have Paige be the first time inside me like this was going to be too much to handle. I can already feel it. 

She walked over to me and looked down at my hole and rubbed the tip on it. Walking at my face to see if I was calm enough to even take this. I did nothing but watch as she did all this. The anticipation was killing me. I just needed her to put it inside me and stp making me think about it. I needed to experience this. I wanted to know everything about this. I wanted to know how she controlled this situation.

“Oh baby you ready for more now. You want to feel this dick inside you?” She asked. Moving her eyes from where she is looking at your  face to see if you would give and answer with your face expression. 

“Yes please. I need to know.” I whined as I grabbed the sides of her face. Trying to get a sense of this all being real. I needed to know that this was real and not another fantasy I was creating late at night in my own bed.

She brought her fingers to her mouth and spit on them. She took them and ran them over me and on the tip. She removed her hoodie leaving her in a white wife beater and sports bra underneath. Placing both hands on the side of me and looking at where we were about to be connected.

“Baby I want you to watch as it goes inside you. Watch as you stretch over me.” She said, placing her hand behind my head and holding it up for me to watch. Looking at the purple silicon as it was glazed from the saliva and the light shining from the moon outside. This point was when I was taking in the room and what it looked like. The moon gave a dust of light in the room enough to see, but not enough to live with.

She placed her forehead on mine slowly pushing it in. I have never been this full. It was a pain that I can get behind. Feeling her be inside me for the first time and probably not the last time. I want to relive this moment for days. I wanted to feel this pain, wanting to have this feeling stay with me. 

She let out a low moan and closed her eyes tilting her head to look at the wall. Watching her be like this and I was the one to cause this on her body was chilling. Watching her act like this from me, if someone would t tell me this moment was happening I would have slapped them so hard. 

She pushed the rest of her inside of me and it was so much inside. She could split me in half with her strap.

Tears filling my eyes from the pressure. She stopped to whip away the loose one that fell on my left cheek. Laying herself on top of me and wrapping her arms around me, lifting my back off the bed and bringing me to her chest. I wrapped my arms around her neck to hold myself up and right when I clasped my hands she snapped her hips forward in me. The angle she was going in was making her curve up and hit my front wall. 

Her hips thrusting back and forth, making the bed squeak at our movements. My hair falls down as it hits my back. Removing my hands and placing them on the bed to create Stability from the back. 

Her groaning and moaning in my ear is sending me straight to bless. She still is watching where we are connected, but me on the other hand. I can’t concentrate on anything but her talking me through this and her moans.

“You are doing so well for me baby. You are such a good girl for me.” she told me looking up at me and licking a strip up my neck. The wetness on my neck creates a cold feeling of euphoria. So many senses are being turned all the way to the max. Never been like this. Never been talking like this or talked to like this, but was loving it. It was like I found my true self and feelings. Like a third eye opening.  

Her grunts were getting deeper and deeper as she was picking up her pace and getting weaker almost. She was about to cum I just knew it.I was too. The same build up from earlier was coming. She let out a long low moan watching me in my eyes as she came. Watching her ‘cum inside me’ was maybe the best sight ever. I would rather watch this replay in my mind than see the grand canyon. 

Watching as her mouth opened slightly. Eye candy at its finest. From watching her and the idea of her made me let go. Exploding like a Volcano. The same heat coming from one too. It was getting too hard to hold back. She fell on top of me as she was still inside of me, breathing heavily.

“Oh my god. I have never came so hard in my life.” I said as I came. At this moment I didn’t even think it was me saying it. I think it was my soul saying it for me. She didn’t even move. That's when I realized I messed up. Everything was going good too.

She turned her head and looked at me. “Give me a chance now?”

[mikami1992]

When I read this… I was like, WTF?

I literally had to check the prices because I didn't believe them and it had been a long time since I went (at my previous job it was all that was sold nearby for food when I didn't bring my lunch)…

and well…

I don't know where you live but the prices they have are extreme…

here in Mexico, for a cost of what would be 5 dollars, you can buy a 6-inch Subway Teriyaki plus a cookie and a soda…

for 14 dollars or so you buy 4 6-inch Subways, and 4 cookies and 4 sodas…

and as for the freshness of the food, well when I was in the habit of going (during peak meal times), you used to see how they took out and cooked the bread, cut the vegetables and sliced ​​several of the meat ingredients (others were taken out of packages like the meatballs and chicken)…

but as for the cost, well where I live, those 5 dollars are what I spend in:

4 to 5 tacos/gorditas with meat and sauce and vegetables (without drinks)

a torta of beef or chicken (this is something similar to subway)

a couple of Mexican burritos,

two or three pieces of fried chicken on the spot…

a hamburger with beef and almost an inch of bacon…

an egg breakfast (prepared in various ways)

if I add one or two extra dollars I will have

a plate of mixed yakimeshi rice (beef, chicken and shrimp)

a large pizza

Stuffed Omelet

Chilaquiles

and more things…

but for those 14 dollars you mention, here where I live you can buy yourself:

a cut of meat like T-Bone

a plate of Beef Fajita

seafood cocktails

seafood rolls and a lot of food that would be considered a luxury a few times a year..

The variety of food costs continues to surprise me

I dunno man. I found out today that a subway sandwich is $14 now. A shitty subway footlong sandwich that isn't actually 12 inches long and is occasionally made with expired ingredients and was never a great option to start with. I ate those in high school because I was broke and at the mall a lot.

There are poke bowls in my city from a local place for $16. Super fresh fish and veg, warm rice, more than I can eat in one sitting, for the price of a sandwich and a drink at america's most mid-tier sandwich shop.

Someone in another post said (paraphrased) you used to be able to get something mediocre for cheap, but now the mediocre things cost as much as the nice things so why would you?

[fromtheshadowsnyc]

Entry 2: The Delivery

[*Most dividers are credited to @saradika-graphics]

[Green Divider is credited to @firefly-graphics]

Not long after I knock, the door to the townhouse opens.

“Well, it’s about time ya got here, we’re starvi—oh. Oh, hello,” drawls a tall guy with slicked back dirty blond hair. He’s dressed only in a toga and smiling down at me in a way that makes my insides feel all oily. “Didn’t realize we ordered an extra snack with our pizza…lucky us.”

I keep my face schooled in a blank expression, even as every nerve of mine is recoiling in disgust. Ugh, why are college guys so sleazy? Especially towards teenage girls? Ick. Ick, ick, blech.

“5 large orders of the Gino’s special,” I drone. “That’ll be eighty dollars, please.”

“Oof, that’s a lot! How ‘bout you come join the party? Really get your money’s worth.” He let out a mindless chortle, his cheeks flushing as his laughter becomes breathless. Then he pauses to think before giving me a look. “Hang on, you’re eighteen, right? Or at least legal-ish?”

God, fuck you. Fuck you and your gross frat country club cronies, I seethe while taking a deep breath. Up the ass—with a chainsaw.

“If you don’t have the money, I’ll just take the pizzas back—”

“Shit, relax, babe. Just a joke. Tch, bitches can’t take jokes anymore. Here!” He slams a crisp Ben Franklin in my palm. With a shrug, he adds, “Keep the change. Buy yourself something nice or whatever…”  

I pause to check the bill, making sure it’s legit. Satisfied, I nod and shift my weight to hand him the pizzas. Then I turn on my heel, pocketing the money in my official Gino’s fanny pack.

“Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen,” I drone out, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Alpha beta sigma, something-something.”

“Uh, actually our name is—”

I genuinely don’t care. If he’s continued to correct me on their name or their greeting or whatever, I already have it blanked out when I get back to the old car Gino uses for pizza delivery. It’s an old worn out sedan with images of pizza painted onto it, with the obnoxious logo for the pizzeria on the hood. Basically a copy-paste of something straight out of the 1980s. Old Gino is sentimental that way.

Slamming the door closed, I take a moment to rest my forehead against the wheel. The coolness of the leather does little for the headache starting to pulse from my skull. But I still pick my head up, trying to get back my focus. I quickly start the car and back out of the little neighborhood NYU and its students have claimed a monopoly on, starting the drive back to the pizzeria.

Hopefully, that’s the last delivery of the night.

Spoiler alert: It’s not.

“Oi, youngblood!” Gino rasps from behind the counter as I walk in, his Italian accent thick and gruff as ever. “Don’t get too comfy, we got another one. And they’re a longtime regular, too, so don’t fuck up!”

God, I want to die. What did I do in a past life to put up with this? Am I this desperate for money, honestly?

It doesn’t take long for me to come up with the answer myself. Remember, I’m a poor teenager coming from the Bronx, who happens to be attending a school where most of the students walk around like they’re royalty and we’re just the ants breathing their air. A poor teenager who plans on going to college next year. A poor teenager with a mom who is on her feet sixty hours a week to be able to feed me and my brothers, as well as provide us with health insurance and other benefits. A poor teenager coming from a household barely making it on that one major income, ever since Dad—well, you can guess. 

Of course, I’m desperate for money.

I sigh and nod. “Yeah, boss. What’s the order?”

“Six pies, three pepperoni and three extra cheese.”

 “Is it ready, yet?”

“Just came out of the oven. Carlos is boxin’ ‘em as we speak,” he says, pointing a thumb at his husband, an old Puerto Rican man working in the kitchen—also the main reason I was able to get this job in the first place.

Carlos sends me a grin. “¡Hola muñeca! ¿Cómo está tu mamá?”

I return the warm smile, though I feel a bit shy. I still get nervous talking to him.

“Bien, estamos todos bien, tío.”

“That’s good to hear! Hang on, lemme help you bring these pizzas to the car,” Carlos says once everything is packed in a bag.

I nod in acceptance and follow behind him. Then I call back to Gino.

“Be right back, boss!” 

“Yeah, yeah…”

My great-uncle Carlos is a long lost relative on my mother’s side. Neither my mom nor me know the whole story, but from what my abuela described, Carlos had run away from home roughly forty or so years ago and stayed out of contact until about five years ago, while my abuela was dying. Considering how long he’s been with Gino, I can hazard a guess as to what that was about—but I’m not going to pry. Far as great-uncles go, he’s pretty cool and he’s been good to me. That’s more than enough.

“—So, little warning about this delivery.”

Uh-oh.

“What kind of warning?”

“The location is a little…odd, to start with.”

“Real specific, tío.” I take a look at the address scrawled on the receipt and narrow my eyes. “Is that longitude and latitude?”

He types into his cell phone. “When you put it in your GPS, it automatically becomes this….”

When he shows me, some tension in my shoulders ease. It's still in the city, and not too far away. But still…

“What’s so weird about it?”

“Well, it’s in an alley.”

I pause to give him a look. “As in an alley where the door to their apartment is, or…”

“¡No sé!” He shrugs. “They’ve been ordering from us for about ten years and we’ve never seen them in person. All communication is either through phone or an intercom.”

“Huh.” That is a bit weird, but I dunno if that’s worth making a big deal over. So I shrug. “Doesn’t sound bad. They pay, right?”

“Of course! And pretty well, usually.”

“Then that’s all that matters to me. Don’t worry, tío, I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay…if you’re sure.”

And that’s that.

Well, until I get there.

After parking the car and securely grasping the boxes of pizza, I walk towards where the GPS is leading me. When the lady AI voice finally quips, “You have reached your destination!” I look up and see that the destination is—indeed—an alleyway. Smack dab between two tall, old apartment buildings that probably still have bits of asbestos in their walls. 

A really dark and ominous looking alleyway. The kind where there doesn’t seem to be an end. The sort of dark alley that can swallow you up if you walk too close. The sort of place where only bad things can happen to other people.

A shudder does go through me as I look into it, my eyes wide and blood cold. Every single nerve that’s making my hair standing on the back of my neck is telling me to leave. Go home. Study for that science test happening on Friday. Danger lives here. Things will change. 

…

But also, I mean! This is New York. These kinds of alleys are a dime a dozen all over this city, let alone the five boroughs. Not all of them are death traps…just. Well, most of them.

So, with that being said, I swallow my fear and step further into the alley. 

Quickly after, just as my feet land right in front of a manhole, I find the button on the wall. It rests on the brick, probably screwed in, very deep. There’s a ring of blue light around the button. And above that, is a camera.

Hang on. This is one of those Ring Doorbells, I realize, my eyes narrowing. But where’s the door…?

Swallowing again, I take another look around. But no matter where I look, there is no door. Just the solid brick of apartment buildings around the alley, the concrete in the floor…and that one manhole. A manhole like any other in this city. I don’t know why I keep focusing on it. But something about this is so…unnerving.

“What the fuck…?”

Another shudder. My eyes fall to the doorbell again, my gaze darting to the camera above the button.

What the fuck.

Taking in a shuddering breath, I lift my hand and curl my index finger outward to point towards the doorbell. I bridge the gap and press against it.

A tune rings out, very much like the ring tone of a cell phone.

One beat, and then two. And then, a voice.

“…Hello?”

“P-pizza delivery!” I manage to say through a forced smile for the camera while holding the boxes of pizza. A jolt had gone through me when I heard his voice. He sounds…younger than I expected. Like any other teenage boy.

“From Gino’s?”

“Yup!” I chirp. “With extra yupperoni!”

…

“EXTRA YUPPERONI”? Did that actually leave my mouth? Ugh. Can’t even believe I’m allowed out in public.

With a cringe, I look back at the camera. The silence from the other end continues—until something happens.

He laughs.

Not like a mean laugh, like Antonia Stockman did with her cronies when I tried to be friendly with them on my first day. Not a cruel laugh, like that dickhead who bullies Sakina and says all this shit about her faith or her home country. Not the kind of laugh that makes you shrink into yourself, makes the anxiety spike, makes you wonder, “God, why did I even try…?”

It’s a laugh of surprise. One that starts from the belly and steals the breath, makes joy spill over. 

When I hear that, it’s like a little jolt to my chest. But a good one, this time. My smile begins to soften, become genuine; and it grows.

“Oh my god, that…that was awful. Terrible. Who allowed you out in public?”

I shrug, still smiling. “My mother dearest.”

“And I bet she’ll regret that decision for the rest of her life.”

I let out a chuckle before I remember what’s in my arms. “Oh, right! Uh, so about the pizza…?”

“Yeah, just leave it right at your feet.”

What. My eyes glance downward, meeting the rim of the manhole; and then they dart right back into the camera, narrowing.

“Right…at my feet,” I repeat.

“Uh-huh.”

“In front of the manhole?”

“Yupperoni,” he echoes, with humor.

I pause to press my lips together, trying to find the words. How can I say this without being an asshole…? 

Ah, fuck it.

“That doesn’t sound…sanitary, my dude.”

“Wow, you are new. Didn’t Daniel tell you anything before you left?”

“Daniel? Oh!” I suddenly remember the previous delivery boy, Gino’s youngest nephew. “Yeah, he packed up about a week ago and moved up to Binghamton. He’s going to school there.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Good for him, he seemed cool.” He pauses to sigh, so soft I nearly don’t hear it. “Must be nice…”

My head tilts while I stare into the camera. I kind of want to ask what he means, but…I dunno, that feels a bit too personal. 

Plus, as nice as talking to him is, I have a job to do.

Instead, I make a show of clearing my throat, eyes darting to the boxes of pizza. “So, uh. Gonna set this pizza down now…”

“Hmm…? Oh, yeah, go ahead.”

And, despite my reservations, I do. As soon as I stand up, though, he speaks again.

“Okay, now turn around. Just continue facing the camera.”

I raise an eyebrow at the request, but I don’t protest as I spin lightly on my heel. Carlos did say these guys were private. And the customer is always right or whatever.

But still. Can’t seem to help wanting to start a conversation.

“You guys really value your privacy, huh?”

He hums, while typing something in the background. “You could say that.”

“Any particular reason…?” I ask, still curious.

A pause.

“Let’s just say that our Sen—father, our father,” he seems to choke out, like he’s not used to it, “is rather…paranoid about our safety. For good reason, of course! But…yeah.”

I hum, my curiosity growing. Interesting.

“Say no more, my guy. I know a thing or two about overprotective parents,” I reply, shoving my hands in my jacket pockets. Damn, it’s really chilly now. Fall really has made its big return to the Big Apple. “Back when my dad was around, I could barely bring anyone over without him giving them an interrogation. Heh, forget when I discovered social media and the internet! Both him and my mom freaked when they found out I had Snapchat.” 

He chuckles. “Your mom too, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. It wasn’t as bad back then, but ever since my dad left…”

My mouth shut tight. Why did I reveal that? Usually, I hate talking about my dad. Just brings up so much stuff I’m still not ready to deal with. Why am I so…comfortable talking to this dude?

I wait with a sickening anticipation. Pretty sure he’s about to make a quip about my dad making that infamous milk run and never coming back. I can usually take that—got a retort saved for it whenever it comes up—but my stomach still feels tight regardless.

“…I’m sorry.”

Somehow, my body locks up even more. My gaze into the ring camera turns sharp, focused. But he continues, regardless—and he’s genuine. Sweet. Warm. In a way I don’t always hear from boys my age. Or girls, even. Most of us, especially if we’re coming from public school, we keep our feelings and squishy bits close to our chest. Hide it behind memes and jokes, and sharp barbs. I’ve tried not to, but it just became easier the older I got. If you learn how to hide behind a wall, no one can hurt you.

“I-I hadn’t…That must be hard.”

“It’s fine,” I say, a bit too quickly—an obvious hint that this is a lie—but I don’t falter. With a shrug, I add, very cool and casual, “It is what it is, y’know?”

“…”

Oh, I hate that. Please, don’t pity me. Believe me, I have cried enough over my dad this past year, I don’t need anyone else doing it.

Gotta change the topic.

“Uh, so who is picking up this pizza, anyway?”

Fortunately for me, he seems to get the hint. His voice shifts into a casual tone—likely wanting to get away from the unpleasant topic—as he replies:

“One of my brothers. Actually, he should be arriving—now.”

That’s when I feel it. Right behind me.

The soft landing of feet on concrete is near inaudible, if you aren’t paying attention. Me, I make it my mission to keep my senses as sharp as possible—at least while walking alone at night—so it isn’t the sound of feet landing that gets me. (Though I find it off-putting that there’s such an intent in its silence.) It’s the presence. The feeling of something looking at you with a piercing gaze. The subtle sensation of something near breathing down my throat. That insane itch on the back of your neck, one that causes a shudder to go down your spine. This feeling of something huge looming over me. 

Now, I’m barely five feet so that really isn’t hard. But I’ve sensed tall guys behind me before. This guy? Even without looking, I can tell that he’s huge. Massive. 

I swallow hard, feeling my neck break out in a cold sweat. Without wanting to, my head starts to turn back—

“Don’t turn around.”

A jolt goes through my chest and I quickly get back in position, staring into the camera.

“Sorry! I just…” I swallow again, my eyes darting around—making sure not to look back—before landing on the camera again. “Hey, you aren’t like…serial killers or something, right?”

A pause. Then he snorts.

“No, no we’re not serial killers. We’re not exactly—normal. But we’re not serial killers.”

I force a smile. Do I have any other choice except to believe him?

“Just another group of weirdos living in New York, huh?”

He snorts again, quickly turning into a chuckle.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Despite still feeling some fear, curiosity prickles at the back of my neck as I stare into the camera. I can’t help wondering what that could mean.

“…Okay, you’re good, pizza girl! Money should be in the envelope.”

I immediately turn on my heel. In the place where the pizzas were sitting rests a white envelope. After picking it up, I quickly open it and count the cash. My eyes narrow at the amount I counted, and I count again. There’s just no way. Why would he…?

“Uh, you gave me a bit…too much, no?” I have to let him know. I love money as much as the next person, but it’d just be bad form to take something that wasn’t meant to be given. 

“Eh, I told him to give you a little extra. You look like you’ve been having a rough night.”

My mouth falls open at that, before spreading into a grin, my eyes falling on the amount that would be my tip. Maybe my luck is turning around, at least a little. I hope it’s a good sign, regardless.

“Thanks, man! You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” I tell him while pocketing the money for Gino’s in one part of my jacket and then my tip in another. Then I think. “What should I call you, by the way? Since this might become a regular thing or whatever.”

“...Donnie. You can call me Donnie. And you?”

And despite hearing my mother’s voice screaming in my head, I tell him.

“Cool. Nice to meet you!”

“Same here.” I lift a hand to wave, my smile broad. “See you around, Donnie!”

“Later, pizza girl.”

With all that said and done, I spin on my heel and start walking back to the alley. Back into the crowd of others in the city, strutting to their respective destinations. Turning around and taking a slow walk back to Gino’s car. I take a deep breath, feeling a strange sort of calm wash over me. I’m not sure how I can describe it. Maybe it’s the relief of a finished shift. Maybe it’s knowing that tomorrow is Thursday, and that Friday won’t be too far behind. Maybe it’s the security of having a nice amount of cash in my pocket.

Who knows?

What I do know is that, when I’m unlocking the car, I feel it again. That itch on the back of my neck. That feeling of being watched. 

At first, I look behind me. I see people walking by, but no one seems to be paying me any mind. 

And then I look up, my gaze falling to the top of a brick building, at the rim of a rooftop. My eyes narrow. I think I see something huge shifting in the shadows. A hint of eyes. But I’m not sure. It’s too far to tell.

I stare some more, feeling an odd weight in my stomach. Then, with much trepidation, I turn and continue unlocking the car door. I slide in and start the engine. I’m choosing to believe it’s nothing. Maybe this is all in my head. Maybe this is just another New York thing that I will never really understand. There are billions of people living in the five boroughs alone. A good percentage of the population is going to consist of the strange and unusual. That’s just how it is here.

In the end, that stuff doesn’t really matter to me. 

I have to drop off the payment and car to Gino, so he and Carlos can drive me home. Then I’ll deal with my mom—she’s likely home from her shift at the hospital and near drowning in wine, so she’ll need help getting into bed—and put my little brothers to bed. And then, in between finishing my homework and chatting with Sakina and Norman on Discord, I’ll put my tip earnings in the jar I keep under my bed.

And tomorrow will be another day of the same shit (more or less). Keep looking forward and mind your business, I tell myself while driving, even when something inside me still lingers and even starts to bloom.

[thelandscapingemployeetrap]

Simple Tips to GROW Your Business from a Guy Whos Built 7 Businesses - Joshua Latimer

As a new or existing business owner, you think every client you come across is for you. Even if you notice that the client isn't right or the deal or offer is off. Despite seeing something wrong with the job, you still accept it because of fear of missing out. 

Stop! Take a moment to reflect on this. How would you react if you were told that there is a better approach to choosing your customers and that there is an easier way to build your systems?

  On today's episode, Joshua will explain why everyone isn't your customer. Listen as he discusses how to turn your neighbor marketing into an actual business using the five stages of business development. What is the best way to overcome objections, and how will you make losing customers become winning customers.  These are some of the topics Joshua covered in this 1-hour episode. This is quite a lengthy episode, but I assure you it is worth your time. 

You will be entertained by Joshua's witty stories and gain wisdom as he explains how to hit your target numbers for your business. This is my gift to you, and I hope you gain a lot from this.

Joshua Latimer hosts the Quick Talk Podcast - Grow Your Service Business. Currently, the show is in its seventh year. As the founder of AutomateGroseSell.com, he has helped small service business owners understand the power of simple systems. In July 2021, he founded KidWarPlan.com, intending to teach kids how to improve their knowledge, confidence, and maturity. Joshua has also spoken at numerous seminars and events as a guest speaker, sharing his knowledge of upscale business strategies with entrepreneurs.

“When you do postcards, It's not a quote. It's not a sales process. It's a phone call generator. That's what it is.”

- Joshua Lattimer

    Why do you have to listen to today's episode.

1:33  -” He's so so humble. And I could see his face in the back. And here's a guy who built a business from a flat broke scratch with nothing. He was delivering pizzas. And he strapped a ladder to the top of like a 1990 Chevy Cavalier. Does anybody know Joshua's story? Raise your hand.”

Introduction to Joshua Latimer.

  5:17 - ”So I want you to think about this. You see, a DJ Carol is generating millions of dollars in all this fancy stuff. That's the wine. The part that people miss is the crushing of the grapes because you weren't there when my car got repossessed. You weren't there when my wife and I went to buy groceries at the grocery store with my newborn baby Maverick, and her debit card got declined, right? You weren't there for that.”

Josh shares his experience starting his business from scratch. He mentioned that business is only sometimes win-win. He explains it metaphorically by saying that everyone sees the grapes, but no one sees the crush. As he tells his story, listen closely to how "Joshua Latimer" came to be.

  9:03 - “What you have to understand is that a largely automated business like I built like DJ has built all's it is really is a set of systems stacked on top of each other in a set of relationships stacked on top of each other.”  

A system underpins all businesses, according to Joshua. Systems are powerful. Understand how they work. It all boils down to 5 stages of business.

  12:44  “What he did is he used systems really good better than I did buy a lot. His business was bigger than mine. And he grew up faster than mine. But the way we did, it's the same because there's already a path. So I want to briefly explain the five stages of business.”

Joshua discusses the five stages of business growth he created with Brandon Vaughn. Then, in a quick explanation, he explains how business development proceeds in five steps.

  18:37 - ��Here's a question I want to engage with you guys. What is the foundational cornerstone of any successful business on the planet? Say some answers. Just say stuff. Systems, customer service, say, Oh, wait, you've heard this story before, right? It's sales and marketing, right?”

Taking this as the number one priority when building your business system is essential. Similarly, Joshua explained that marketing is the process that will get you your customers. 

  18:37 - “To make the point you need to simplify, you need to learn to do less, not more, you need to focus in tunnel vision on the basic simple stuff that always works instead of trying to do 1600 super advanced tactics or whatever, right? And once your business is big, if you want to nerd out and do super advanced tactics, do it like, That's great.”

Hyper-targeting is a technique used in marketing and prospecting. Here's how you can turn your neighbor's marketing strategy into a successful business. Choosing the right customer is important because not all clients will fit your needs.

25:43 - “Okay. We're good. Okay. Do you want to personalize your marketing, whether it's a door hanger, a yard sign, or whatever you want to make it about them? That's my point. Okay. Very simple stuff. This is crammed with construction paper stuff. You make it about them.”

Marketing should be your phone call generator. As you create your signage, Joshua provides some dos and don'ts.

  27:38 - “you have to be in front of people over and over and over and over and over and over and over like a broken record. That's a relentless nonstop thing.”

Whenever you are hyper-targeting your prospects, you should consider multi-touch marketing. However, Joshua believes neighbor marketing is the best method for prospecting due to similar demographics. Here's why.

30:29 - “So we're going to talk about how to turn this neighbor marketing strategy. This is one nugget into an actual system into a lever.”

As Joshua defined Principles, Strategy, and Tactics, he outlined the differences between them.

40:21 - “So you want to measure things like your average ticket, and then you're gonna measure your CAC. Who knows what a CAC is? Customer acquisition costs. It's the customer acquisition cost.” 

Numbers are the key to everything. In Joshua's view, whatever measures are taken to improve the situation will be successful. A winning strategy is useless if it is not measured. The key is in the numbers. Markets are driven by needs alone.

44:57 - 58:26 -  — Question and Answer Portion —

Key Takeaways

  “In your marketing and your literature, in the way that you look, the way that you smell, the way that you dress, the way that you answer your phone, the inflection in your voice, the way that you do the work and you do the right thing, even though no one's looking the way that you have integrity, the way that after the job's done, he unfairly says you gotta fix something and you do it with a smile and then the way that you follow up with that customer for the next 10 years. That is how you make millions of dollars.” - Joshua Lattimer

“You don't do marketing to get validated that you're good enough and strong enough. You're trying to get the hyper-targeted person to engage with you and call you. That's it" - Joshua Lattimer

  Connect with Joshua

Linkedin: Joshua Latimer | LinkedIn

Facebook: (1) The Growth Vault: For Home Service CEOs | Facebook

YouTube: MAP To A Million - YouTube

Podcast:The Growth Vault Podcast - Build A 7-Figure Home Service Business

    Resources/People Mentioned: 

The Growth Vault Podcast, hosted by Joshua Lattimer: The Growth Vault Podcast - 

Build A 7-Figure Home Service Business

The E Myth: The E Myth: Why Most Businesses Don't Work and What to Do About It: Gerber, Michael E.: 9780887303623: Amazon.com: Books

Send Jim: SendJim.com

Brandon Vaughn: Brandon Vaughn | LinkedIn

5 Stages of business growth by Joshua Lattimer: "5 Stages of Business" Which One Are You In? - YouTube

Geocodeo for a hassle-free geo coding: Hassle-free geocoding - Geocodio

Revenue Buddy: Revenue Buddy -Visual Goal Setting

The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People - The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Covey, Stephen R.: 9780671663988: Amazon.com: Books

    Check out this episode!

[bixbythemartian]

I’m just gonna ramble about work for a bit if y’all don’t mind

one of the interesting artifacts of delivering pizza right now is how much more it is obvious that people never use their front doors

this is one of those things that has always been true of delivering pizza, for me (I’ve been in this industry off and on since 2004)

you’ll get to someone’s house and it’s super clear that they always come in and out through the garage because of one or more of the following

their porch is covered in cobwebs

their porch has been taken over by a feral cat colony (probably with some encouragement/feeding by the people who live here, but not necessarily)

the sidewalk from driveway to door is completely overgrown by bushes (it is common courtesy to try not to walk on people’s lawns, because some people get Deeply Weird about that and I want a good tip, but sometimes you gotta because there’s a rosebush that’s out for blood)

their porch is like piled with stuff because it’s mostly used for storage

their porch is like piled with stuff because they think it looks cute but they don’t realize how difficult the stuff makes it to get to the door

It didn’t used to be like SUPER common

in my delivery area it used to be almost entirely middle to upper middle class housing that suffered from this.

really wealthy people pay yard guys to handle the whole thing, so their hedge rows are fine, and really wealthy people tend towards being minimal with any kind of porch decoration- a seasonal wreath and maybe a couple of chairs nobody sits in and a table nobody uses to one side or the other

poorer folks don’t have houses with garages, and if they do have garages they probably don’t have automatic openers. also those were more likely to be rentals and they’d be out smoking on the porch and stuff, they actually use their front porch is my point.

so it’s people who have enough money to have a house with an automatic garage door opener, and who aren’t afraid of being seen as extreme with their porch decorations, that tend towards this particular circumstance

(and like I genuinely love weird porch decorations, the weirder the better, but I do need to be able to reach your door, that’s kinda part of my job)

I generally have worked in the kind of places that have cheap pizzas that college kids and high people eat, so this was like ‘2-3 times a week’ sort of deal. I spent a lot more of my time at the dorms and cheap apartments than I did at nicer houses.

it has changed a lot though, I rarely have a night where I don’t see this kind of thing at least once, here’s my thoughts on why

Pandemic means less people having people over, so nobody is there to say ‘ooh hedge rows are making it hard to get up the walk’ or ‘the cute gnome statue on the porch is at just the right height to whack me in the shins when I come up the stairs, maybe think about moving it back a few inches? I almost broke the damn thing’

the pandemic also means contactless delivery has become more the norm, and so even when you might have in the past had an interaction with a delivery driver who’s like ‘oh by the way, your rosebush attempted to eat me just fyi and I think there’s a spider the size of a housecat living in it’, that doesn’t happen hardly at all anymore

previous management lost us a lot of regulars because they were absolute dickholes and thought customer service was for weenies, but new management took over before the pandemic and so we... like, don’t call customers horrible names when they complain about stuff anymore, and we were one of two places open after 10 pm for a while, so we got back a lot of the townies, and it’s not just college kids and broke folks who order from us anymore (though that’s still one of our main demographics)

the older neighborhood with poorer housing that used to be largely like my parent’s generation or their parent’s generation (boomers and up) is now being bought up by developers and house flippers who are trying to rent to hip young couples and college kids, and they’re slapping paint on houses and throwing in an automatic garage door opener and raising the price like 20%

(this is super infuriating actually because now there’s basically nowhere to live that’s reasonably cheap and kinda shitty in town, it’s all upscale apartments for college students that’s barely occupied, very shitty apartments that are charging way too much, or houses being sold for 20 grand more than they are actually worth, this is why I no longer live in the same town I work)

another interesting thing about pandemic delivery is that my tip average is generally WAY up. I’m not the only one who’s noticed this.

I suspect that when the whole country went to ordering a lot more delivery there was a lot more attention paid to drivers and it’s seemingly resulted in a permanent upswing in tip percentages. generally a lot closer to the 4-5 dollar per delivery range than the 2-3 dollar per delivery range I used to expect.

(not that you can tell that from TONIGHT because I had a miserable tip night, but that’s just luck of the draw sometimes)

[cricketnationrise]

bowling legends

Written for day 5 of Friendship Week! prompt: sport other than hockey / the tadpoles @birlcholtz you rock

_X_

“Alright I give up, why are we going to this sketchy strip mall?” Ford asks while Tango looks for a parking spot.

“We’re going bowling, and this is the closest place,” Whiskey answers. “We looked it up, they’re having a five dollar pitcher and three dollar wing special tonight. Plus shoe rentals are only ten per person.”

“That is surprisingly thrifty of y’all, Whiskey.”

“Well, we are also using sin bin money tonight.”

“You guys! That’s supposed to go toward the team stuff!”

“It is for the team!” Tango protests, pulling into a spot.

“Captain’s orders,” Whiskey adds.

“Captain’s orders? To take me bowling with fine money?” Ford looks doubtful.

“Well, the bowling part was us, but Dex definitely said to take you somewhere to unwind.”

“I don’t need to unwind I have a million things to get done for the spring musical and prep for playoffs and -”

“And you’ve been snappish at the whole team for the last week.”

Ford’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click of her teeth.

“...I have?”

Whiskey nods gently. “We hoped it was just an off day, but it was all week, Foxy.”

She hangs her head. “Sorry guys, I’m just stressed.”

“Hence us taking you bowling!” Tango says with a smile. “We figured it was sufficiently active slash violent to let out your stress with minimal damage to people or property. Plus lots of sitting and beer. We’ll even keep the bumpers up for maximum amusement.”

“I do like beer.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tango says. “Shall we go then?”

The trio troops inside and Tango takes a second in the lobby to just breathe in his surroundings. He loves bowling: the UV light hitting the space carpet, the clatter of pins falling, the sound of the attached arcade games, even the slightly gross smell of bowling shoes, old pizza and spilled beer, all trying to be masked by Pine-Sol. Eh, he’s smelled worse at the Haus. Somewhere in his room at home are three separate birthday party pins all signed by his friends. Bowling rocks.

They grab food and beer, rent their shoes, and settle in for a relaxing night of chucking balls at pins. Whiskey, predictably, takes bowling the most seriously, and consequently is losing by a large margin at the end of six frames. Tango knows the secret of bowling is to think about literally anything else. If you focus too hard you’ll end up overcorrecting. In the immortal words of Jack Black in School of Rock: Loosey goosey baby. Loosey. Goosey.

But Foxtrot looks remarkably relaxed. She’s in second, only a little behind Tango, but she’s got a huge grin on her face as she watches Whiskey do his super stiff robot bowling and snacks on the basket of wings.

“This was a good idea, Tango. Thank you for dragging me out tonight.”

He slings his arm around her shoulder and tugs her closer. “Literally any time Foxy. Well, not during hockey practice, or your rehearsal, or during classes, I guess. But anytime we are both free, I’ll be here with bells on.”

Ford giggles at him and goes to take her turn. She and Whiskey do their secret handshake as they pass each other. Legends Only.

“We did good,” Whiskey comments as he takes a seat and a sip of his beer.

“Literally thank god,” Tango says, “I think she was about to explode from the stress.”

“No one likes a stressed out manager, that’s for sure.”

“She’s gonna be a mess next year when we have to find her replacement before we graduate.”

Whiskey shudders. “Let’s not borrow trouble, bro.”

“Fair enough.” Tango looks around at the other people bowling at nine on a Thursday for the first time, and notices a group of women a few lanes down. They’re all wearing the same lavender bowling shirt. He squints and sees that they say ‘Samwell Bowling Babes.’ He grins, and points them out to Whiskey. Whiskey just raises his eyebrows at Tango.

“You’re not seriously trying to wheel now, are you?”

“It’s for Ford!” Tango protests.

“What’s for Ford?” she asks, coming back. “You’re up Tango.”

“I was just pointing out that group over there,” he says, pointing.

“Samwell Bowling Babes?” Ford looks doubtful.

“You should go talk to them, I’ll bet they could use someone new on their team,” says Tango.

“I don’t know, I’m so busy already…”

“Can’t hurt to try, Foxy,” Whiskey says.

“Are you guys going to let me not talk to them?” she asks.

“Probably not,” Tango admits.

“Ugh fine. Don’t bowl for me, I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Tango goes to bowl his frame, keeping an eye on Ford as she goes up to the purple-clad women, bow bouncing.

He flings the bowling ball down the lane and watches as it bounces no less than six times on the bumpers and ends up with nine pins getting knocked down. He manages some bowling magic to get the spare and when he sits down again, Ford is coming back over.

“How the fuck do you do that,” Whiskey grumbles as he trudges up to the ball return for his next frame.

“Natural talent,” he chirps back.

“Turns out they aren’t so much a team as an informal gathering that likes to have matching shirts,” says Ford, before taking another drink of her beer. “But they said they’re super flexible on time and meet a few times a week to accommodate as many people as possible. They’re gonna send me a schedule. Also one of them gave me this for you.” She hands over a small piece of paper with a name and number written on it.

He takes it and pockets it without looking at it. Tonight’s about Denice.

“Alright Foxtrot!” Tango picks her up in a huge hug. “All grown up and getting friends that have nothing to do with hockey or theater. I’m so proud!”

“Alright, alright, put me down!” she laughs. He sets her down gently. “But yeah, yeah, you were right, bowling is great, I need stress relief, and being around people that don’t know anything about pucks or actors is probably a really good idea. Thanks Tango.”

“Got your back.”

“Oh COME ON,” Whiskey wails from in front of them. Tango and Ford look around to see Whiskey looking utterly defeated at the pins. Tango looks at the end of the lane and bursts out laughing, joined a second later by Ford. He’s somehow managed to only knock down a single pin with his first ball. And his second ball rolled into the exact same hole without hitting anything else. One point.

“Oh Whiskey,” she giggles.

“I just don’t understand,” he groans and finishes off his beer.

“I already told you to loosen up, you’re too stiff,” Tango says.

“Don’t make fun of my culture,” Whiskey sniffs, nose in the air.

“Ah yes, we shouldn’t make fun of our future robot overlords if we want to live,” Ford says, nodding.

“Good point, Ford. We tease out of affection, not malice, please don’t kill us when Skynet takes over.”

Whiskey glares at them through his fingers over his face. “You two are the worst ever.”

“Pshh, we’re the best,” says Ford.

“If you go get another round of food, and actually loosen up, Whiskey, I’ll get you whatever prize you want out of the claw machine.”

“No one is good at those,” Whiskey says grumpily.

“I am. I’m freakishly good at them,” he says proudly. “Lots of time spent on the Jersey Shore boardwalk games.”

“Fine. I want the stuffed octopus.”

“Bet. Let’s go, Whisk. Ford - hold down the lane.”

“You got it. Bring me back a giant pretzel.”

“Your wish is my command,” Tango says with a salute as he drags Whiskey toward the arcade and the food counter.

Ford’s relaxed laughter follows them across the aisle, and they fist bump in victory when they hear it.

[undyingskies]

Best Friend’s Brother

request: yes, “Hi, how are you? I've a request: y / n is one of Charlie's older brother friends and lives with Owen and Char ', because she is a writer for JATP. One day Owen and Charlie are live, Y / N's doing the dishes. Owen jokes that Y / N has to use a chair to put the dishes away (she is about 5'1). Y/N hasn't seen them and continues to sing and dance to musicals (heather, mamma mia, rhps, hamilton, location), doing the dishe. Charlie has heartfelt eyes for her. You decide what's next. Thank you! <3”

A/N: This was really fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Warning: None 

——————————————————-

Everyone thought you were crazy for moving in with two boys. Why in the world would a single 20 something year old want to move in with two 20 something year old guys. But you loved it, you really did.

The thing here is your best friend was one of your roommates older brother. Michael Gillespie was the one and only best friend in question, when he found out that both you and Charlie would be working on the same show, he thought it was a no brainer to offer up the idea of you two living together. Neither of you really minded the idea, it was just up to Owen to say it was alright.

At first you thought maybe it would be weird, but Michael was right, it was better to be living with someone you knew than be alone in a different city. You and Charlie were the same age, Michael was older. He was your best friend but more often than not he acted like an older brother and truthfully, he felt better sending you off to a new city with Charlie than you alone.

Living with the boys had proved to be more fun than you ever thought it would. You were a writer on the show and the boys were the stars, so your hours were a little different from each other’s. That still gave you the time and space to yourself and that’s really all you could ask for.

This week was the first week in about two months that you had off, well everyone had off. After countless days and sleepless nights for the whole cast and crew they decided a week off would do no harm.

This was your third day off and the freezing Canada streets were not calling you or the boys. You were staying locked up in your apartment with the heat on blast. The boys decided to just hang around and go live to talk to fans. You decided it was time to clean, you did laundry, vacuumed your room and living room, and your last task was the pile of dishing that has accumulated in the sink.

You had your hair pulled up in a low bun to keep it out of your face, you had your workout shorts on that were covered by the large oversized shirt you stole from one of the boys, and fuzzy socks hugged your feet to keep them warm. You had your music blasting; you were in your element.

Your dance moves and music had caught the attention of the fans, you didn’t know but you were in the background of the live. Comments started flooding in about you.

Owen chuckles as he reads through them. “Can Y/N reach the dishes it looks like she’s hopping up to get them done?” He reads out. This one gets a laugh out of both Owen and Charlie.

“She actually has to use a step stool, we love our tiny but might Y/N, a full 5”1.” Owen laughs, Charlie shakes his head.

“Is she listening to musicals?” Another comment asks.

“Yes, she is. She’s a theatre nut, I think this is what the third musical of the morning?” Charlie answers back.

He was right, it was the third. You started off with Heathers, then moved onto Location, and now you were finishing Mama Mia. You weren’t quite done with your playlists of musicals though. The starting cords of Alexander Hamilton came through your speaker. A loud squeal escapes you.

Since Hamilton came out on Disney+ a few months ago the hype for it came back again. You and Owen were constantly listening to it and competing on who could learn the raps faster.

“The ten-dollar founding father without a father, got a lot farther by working a lot harder, by being a lot smarter.” You rap along with Anthony Ramos, turning from the sink to face the boys. Owen already on his feet facing you getting ready to rap the next lines.

“By being a self starter, by fourteen, they placed him in charge of a trading charter.” Owen raps as you make your way into the living room. The two of you facing each other getting ready for your rap battle.

Charlie laughed at the sight in front of him, this was a lot more common than people thought. It happened at least once a week.

The fans were loving it and were going crazy over the constant switch of you rapping then Owen rapping. Charlie just watching being content, his eyes never really leaving your short figure. He loved the sight of you in your element like this, the brightest smile on your face. He also didn’t miss the fact that you were wearing his shirt. He had wondered where it went.

Don’t think the fans didn’t notice the look on Charlie’s face as he watched the two of you and how it never left you.

“What’s your name man? Alexander Hamilton.” Both you and Owen yell together at the last line, falling into a fit of laughter.

“That was good guys, the fans loved your show.” Charlie tells the both of you. Owen plops down on the couch next to him laughing. You smile and throw your arms over Charlie’s shoulders leaning over him to look at the screen.

You didn’t catch it but a blush made its way onto Charlie’s cheeks at your actions and contact.

“You’re welcome you guys, I aim to please.” You laugh out, responding to the comments. “Now I am off to finish the dishes.” You say with a wave and then you’re off again.

Charlie and Owen sit silently for a few seconds reading over the comments. That’s when all of them came flooding in talking about the way Charlie looked at, the blush on his cheeks when you touched him, and the speculations of him liking you.

Owen laughs at points one out. “Look dude.” He says. The comment read, “Charlie looked like a deer in headlights looking at Y/N, while also being the epitome of the heart eyes emoji.” Charlie blushes at the comment.

“Well she’s not wrong.” Owen laughs.

“Shut up dude.” Charlie says shoving him away. He wasn’t ready to spill the beans about his feelings for his brothers best friend.

Owen just shrugs it off. The rest of the live was spent with Charlie avoiding any and all comments or questions about you and Owen trying his best to switch topics knowing his best friend was getting a little embarrassed.

You finish the dishes and make your way over to the couch. You immediately land next to Charlie, resting your back on his side like he’s the back of the couch. He throws his arm around you, pulling you closer.

“You guys down to order some food, I’m hungry.” You ask them. The boys agree and go to say their goodbyes to the fans, ending the live.

“So what are you thinking?” Owen asks you.

“Mmmm maybe pizza?” You say thinking out loud.

“Sounds good to me.” Owen says, Charlie agreeing. “I can make the call to order it.” You tell the boys, getting up to walk out of the room to make the call.

“You know you should tell her.” Owen says looking at Charlie, as he watches you walk out of the room.

Charlie let’s out a sigh and shakes her head. “I don’t think I can, I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have or the one she has with my brother.” He confesses.

“Okay first of all you have to be blind if you don’t think she likes you back. Second of all your brother knows how you feel about her you idiot, if the fans noticed almost immediately, your brother for sure knows.” Owen says. “Besides he told me! He pushed the two of you to live together in hopes it would get one of you to confess your feelings for each other.”

Charlie is shocked at Owens words. He didn’t really know how to wrap his head around his confession. If his brother says you like him than it is a chance it’s true, but then again, he could just be messing with him it is his brother after all.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t know how to tell her.” Charlie gets out before you come walking back into the room, shutting them both up.

“Tell who what?” You asks, plopping down again next to Charlie.

“Oh nothing.” Charlie says trying to brush the topic away. Owen rolls his eyes. “I’m going to go take a shower while we wait for the pizza.” He says, leaving the two of you alone. When he leaves, he whispers to Charlie, “Tell her.”

Charlie just shoots him a dirty look. You notice their littler interaction but don’t question it, you’ve learned that at times it’s the best thing to do.

The two of you just sit in silence with Owen going. You not really paying attention and just scrolling through your phone and Charlie just lost in his thoughts and conflicting feelings about telling you.

He was thinking he might as well, if Owen says his brother already knows and they both swear you like him back, then why not go for it? Plus after that live with all the fans there’s no way you won’t see some of their comments. He thinks now is the time, just go for it.

Next thing you know a hand is slapping your phone out of your hands and the body to which you were leaning on has moved and you’ve fallen flat on your back.

“Charlie what the hell?” You ask him. You weren’t ready for any of that. You push yourself up, lock your phone and push it to the side.  You turn to face the now distressed boy.

“We need to talk.” That’s all he says and then he is on his feet pacing.

“Okay, talk about what?” You ask, while watching Charlie strut back and forth.

You let him walk back and forth for a couple minutes, letting the silence take over the two of you before you probe him for an answer again.

“Charlie? Talk about what?” You ask again. “Just...Just give me a second okay?” He says in a stern way that makes you sit back in the couch and give him a nod of approval.

It takes him a few more struts and silence before he stops right in front of you and faces you. That is when he bursts with his confession.

“I like you Y/N, I like you okay! I have for a while and I just think you should know that.” He says exasperated. His arms fall to his sides and the two of you just stare at one another.

The silence and his confession sitting on top of you like a cloud. Charlie was now nervous and scared at your reaction, while you were just stunned.

You never even thought you had a chance with Charlie. He was your best friends brother, you never thought in a million years Charlie would ever think of you the way you thought about him. You’re lost in your thoughts but the song My Best Friends Brother by Victoria Justice starts to play in your head, causing you to giggle.

“Alright I know my confession was out of the blue but you don’t have to laugh at me.” Charlie says feeling sad and getting ready to walk away.

“No, Charlie, stop! I’m not...I’m not laughing at you” You say through your giggles. You stand up and grab his wrist not letting him turn away from you.

“I’m sorry Charlie, it’s just, you know that song? The one that goes, my best friends brother is the one for me. It just it started playing in my head and I couldn’t help myself.” You tell him, a little embarrassed at your own confession.

“That’s what you think about in this moment? Really Y/N? A song?” He asks. Then realization hits him. “Wait my best friends brother is the one for me?” He asks, stepping a little closer to you. Your chests now touching.

You bite your lip and nod your head yes. You let him wrap his arms around your waist to pull the two of you flush together.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve liked you for a while now.” You confess. A large smile adorns both of your faces.

That’s when it happens. His lips met yours, finally. You let yourself melt into his kiss, loving the feeling. The two of you lost in the moment until you hear,

“Finally!” Owen yells, breaking the two of you apart. The both of you smiling and blushing.

“Also pizza is here and now Michael owes me 20 bucks so thank you for that!” Owen smiles and walks into the kitchen, with the pizza in hand.

“I guess Owen and Michael knew this was coming.” You say while looking up at Charlie smiling.

“I guess so.” He says before pressing his lips against yours for the second time. This time the two of you pull apart at the sound of your phones buzzing in sync.

Both of you check your phone, it’s a text from Michael that reads.

“As much as I am glad that one of you grew some balls to tell each other that you liked them, could you have at least done it a week later?? I was so close to winning that bet.”

You both laugh. Only Michael and Owen would make a bet about this. Charlie grabs your hand and leads you into the kitchen so the three of you could enjoy the warm pizza.

Charlie sits beside you, with a hand on your thigh. Not ready to let you go yet since he just got you. You smile and laugh with Charlie and Owen; thinking you are so lucky to have the two of them. Turns out your best friends brother really is the one for you.

[sandersstudies]

Hi there! I wanted to ask a quick question, if you're not an expert that's okay, you don't have to answer! I wanted to know how/what the right way to tip is? I'm from Australia and it's very very rare that people tip on checks at cafes and restaurants. Most people will just put spare change etc. into a tip jar near the register. I'm worried if I ever go overseas I'll be seen as rude because I've only ever 'tipped' that way, I want to make sure the workers get the tips they deserve!

My previous post about tipping was pretty thorough but I’ll reiterate here. I’ll also admit I’m no expert, just an average American in the land of tipping.

Tipping is obviously not set-in-stone and is always based on quality of service. Tips may range much higher or lower based on that.

15-20% is standard for good service at any place in which you receive personalized attention, like from a server at a sit-down restaurant. (Leaning further toward 20% as the quality of the restaurant increases. This is partially because as the specialization of service staff increases, the server is expected to “tip out” other employees like the barback, etc.) A sit-down restaurant is one of the only places where not leaving a tip is considered very rude. Tips can be added onto the credit or debit card bill on a line you’ll find labeled, or the line can be left blank and you can tip cash, which you can leave on the table or on the check presenter. Sometimes if one person in a large group received special attention or service (or they are apologizing for the behavior of their party) they will slip an additional tip to the server even if they are not covering the bill. Sometimes when a couple goes out, the one who invited the other covers the meal, and the invitee offers to cover the tip. Y’know. If you get asked out on any dates while in America. For a large group or for a specialized request (such as reserving a banquet room at a nice restaurant), some restaurants may add a gratuity onto the bill. In this case, you may tip less or not need to tip at all. Watch for this if you have a group of 6, 8, 10, or more people. In a buffet-style location, where the server only brings drinks, you tip less. 

10-15% or a minimum of 2$ is standard for less personalized service such as a pizza delivery. Nowadays since many orders are placed online, there are options to tip ahead of time and you don’t have to worry about it at the door. Otherwise you can skip the online tip and add one on the aforementioned line or tip cash. Bartending tipping also varies a lot since some places are very personal and others are not. An upscale brewery where the bartender is full-service and leads you in sample tasting merits a similar tip to a server, while ordering a couple jack-and-cokes in a busy club bar might mean just leaving a dollar after picking up your drink.

Tipping fast-food employees is not necessary, and in some chains not allowed. If you see a tip jar and the service was good, you may drop some coins in there, but it’s not expected. Baristas and other specialized food workers are more likely to display tip jars and receive tips because there is an assumed higher skill level, but it is still not expected you tip.

Tip hairdressers, manicurists, and other beauty workers. I personally don’t often have my nails done or my hair cut more than a brief trim but 15-20% is a safe bet here too.

In hotels, it is courteous to tip small amounts to employees who give you personal service (like carrying your bags). This will vary a lot based on if you’re staying in a casual motel or glamorous resort. I stayed in a very homey and beautiful hacienda when I traveled to Mexico and remember that this was where I struggled most to figure out tipping, so ask a local if you’re not sure. A few dollars left in your room for housekeeping is a nice gesture - if you’re returning, label it for them so they know it wasn’t just left behind. 

I never take taxis but they are common in some American cities and I have heard it is courteous to tip. From my understanding 15% is standard again but higher in some places like NYC. I don’t know tipping etiquette for services like Uber or Lyft, though. Parking attendants and valets might receive $1-5 upon retrieving a vehicle in accordance with how fancy the location/event is (had to Google this one - these are common in cities like LA but nonexistent except at the most upscale events on the plains). 

I also don’t go on a lot of tours but since you’d be a visitor to the country you might take one - if so, it’s courteous to tip the tour guide.

If someone provides a personalized service, 15% is pretty much always safe. If you’ve judged correctly, they’ll consider this an appropriate tip, and if you’ve misjudged and tipped someone who usually isn’t tipped, then they’ll be very pleased and surprised. Ask a local (or Google) when you’re not sure.

Edit: In general, bothersome or extenuating circumstances against the servicer merit a larger tip. (Did your pizza deliverer have to drive in a horrible storm? Did your waitress have to put up with a constantly complaining grandparent? etc.) Therefore in the era of COVID I’ve at least been tipping more across the board, because the circumstances most servers are under are more severe. 

[tuscanwalker]

September 2, 2021 - The Wisdom of my Wife

Today is the day when an imaginary version of my wife sat on my shoulder and repeated whispered sage advice in my ear. While I might once have considered it subconscious nagging, I have to ask: Is it really nagging when she is almost always right and it usually prevents me from making huge mistakes?

If you have been following the blog, you are aware the Deutsche Bahn (the national railway) went on strike at midnight and will not return to work until next Wednesday. While I had done my best to make alternate arrangements, this is the kind of thing that usually raises my stress level to Defcon 4, with collateral damage to all around me. However, when I got up this morning I just kept hearing Lu-Anne’s voice in my head, “slow down for a minute and take a deep breath, it will all work out somehow.” She was right as usual. I managed to make it to Frankfurt where I exchanged my second DB ticket for one on a private railway that was not on strike. While it would not take me to Bingen, it would let me gaze longingly across the Rhine from the Rudesheim Bahnhof and I understood there was likely a ferry somewhere nearby. On arrival, my GPS informed me that the “personenfahre” was right below the station at riverside (20m). After waiting half an hour for a ferry that likely never came, I realized that the “autofahre” was crossing every 10 minutes only 200m further down the riverbank. After dragging my suitcase a little over 2km on both sides of the river, I walked into Cafe Hotel Koppel with a smile on my face. To make a long story short, throughout this I remained uncharacteristically calm and relaxed thanks to my wife’s ethereal advice.

After checking in and getting organized I went back along the River for lunch at about 15:00. I stopped at a ridiculously expensive restaurant with loads of character on the riverbank. I decided to treat myself and once again my wife’s wisdom echoed in my one good ear. “Too many $10,000 vacations have been ruined by spending all your time trying to save $20.” (Or words to that effect). While I recognize that, even on a public service pension, one needs to be careful and not waste money, my wife has taught me that $20 here and there can literally shove thousands of dollars of enjoyment down the toilet.

I perused the menu and spotted something called a flame cake. I saw one go by and it seemed to be a pizza. When my waiter came I asked him what it was. He said it was hard to describe, but it was kinda like a pide (Turkish pizza) but with no cheese of tomato sauce. I asked “is it good”. His response was “some people like it” all the while shaking his head from side to side. I asked if he liked it and his response was “I always have something else”. My wife’s advice again kicked in “always ask your waiter and always listen to (his/her/their) advice”. Cheeseburger and fries were ordered ($21) and he broke into a huge smile, “you will like that a lot”. I did, and, after all, Hamburg is in Germany so this is still local food😊.

One caution though, I have had three hamburgers in Germany and all three have been about a 1/2 a pound on a 5” bun. Germans seem to love their meat. My schnitzel last night (with large salad) was roughly the size of a frisbee, but nonetheless I somehow managed to choke it down. At lunch yesterday on the market square in Wurzburg, I joined a line to a kiosk that stretched about 150 m around the square uncertain of what they were selling, only convinced that it was likely very good. When I eventually got to the front, it was only for a “simple” bratwurst on a bun with mustard. Nonetheless, when I finished that one, I would have two more (as many did) if I had had time to brave the lineup again.

Oh yes, I should also probably mention the wine. In Canada a standard glass is 5 ounces or about 150 ml. Here, a standard glass is 200 ml and almost everyone that I have had has been closer to 250ml (glasses are marked) or about a third of a bottle. Depending on the situation I have switched between everyday Silvaner ($5.50 a glass) and some lovely Rieslings (up to $8 a glass). Basically 2/3 the price we are use to paying for a glass in Edmonton restaurants for 30-60% more wine. Little wonder I spent another two hours after my meal savouring a couple of glasses while I watched the barges and tour boats pass by while a huge statue of Germanic looked down from across the river.

Will take another walk down by the river, but will make it an early night as I walk to Kalb tomorrow 20+ km and 2,000+ ft gross vertical climb. The good news is the breakfast should be good as many Europeans serve sweet baked goods with breakfast, and my hotel is also a cafe/pastry shop👍🏻.

[acommonloon]

TL;DR

What a delicious memorable night!

Except, I returned to the scene of a crime and got a last call beer and I'm a little disturbed I can't remember what it was. Let me think.

Oh that's right. I remember now.

____________________________________________________________

I remember hours before, going in The Raven, circling the bar before walking back out, not a single beer worth the time to drink it.

I remember darting across two busy lanes of traffic to see what The Ainsley was all about. It was the second venue to inhabit my much loved and missed Blue Grass Brewing Company, where I bought countless beers in past years. I never went in The Sullivan, it first followed BBC but, The Ainsley laudes itself as an upscale sports bar.

I nearly didn't go in. The building outside blinded me with unadorned white walls and...they took all the fucking windows out! Still, I had just braved rush hour on Frankfort Ave in 90deg heat so I pushed on. I was back outside in less than 5 seconds.

The inside was...where old white people go to die and maybe a few patrons at the bar had succumbed. The place reeked like a basement couch leaking generations of old man farts and the barely moving white heads scattered along the bar looked like moths fluttering their last against a hot window sill. I ran back across Frankfort.

Briefly I considered bailing. I could be home in under an hour where I've got beer worth drinking for days, weeks even. I'm no quitter though. I was parked in front of Street Grub and Hops, a bizarrely named venue I'd been in a few times since The Mellow Mushroom failed to survive in Louisville's over crowded pizza market.

I remembered they had 30+ taps behind their large U-shaped bar and I could see the whole side of the building was open to the sidewalk. Inside a band was setting up to play so I was assured in this place I wouldn't need mothballs to dispel the odour of human demise.

If my sense of failing mortality seemed unaccountably morbid on a bright Friday afternoon, in my defense, a new place next to Street Grub caught my eye. NSD Bar it said on the sign. What's that? Never Say Die Bar <shakes head>

I was met at the bar by a lively young man with a lush black beard and handlebar mustache. Thirsty? he asked. You've no idea.

He gesture towards the wall of taps and said let me know if you see something that piques your interest.

I chuckled and said that's a tall order. I spend too much time beer hunting.

He laughed then and said to which spelling are you referring?

My brain stuttered then I got the clever play on words he'd heard in my "tall order" reply, accidental for sure.

Which did you mean I countered, then I spelled peak or pique? The second one he smiled as he walked off.

<sigh> it was 5:10 already and I didn't know it but I'd just experienced the high point of my visit to Street Grub. In spite of their large list, only one beer piqued my interest and Austin, of the peaky facial hair, apologized when he discovered it was no longer on. My second choice, in spite of being a Stone Brewing offering, had no more character than the Miller Lite branded glass they brought it in. Worst of all, the fried pickles sucked. I should have remembered that because I'd had them there before.

I got back in my car with no particular plan. Then remembered a friend had mentioned the bar I had visited on Saturday had a Speakeasy room in the basement. <shrug>The Speakeasy theme has never interested me but such places often do high quality drinks and my recent visit to Gerties upstairs bore that out. They made me a Penicillin or two actually and they were terrific. I could do with another or two.

As soon as I walked in, the bartender greeted me with, "You're back!" I grinned back at him and said, "I heard you've a room in the basement." We do and he pointed around the bar to a door and said tell the bartender downstairs his Penicillin isn't as good as mine.

Recently, the guy that runs a nearby wine bar told me I was memorable. He said, "You make an impression." I wasn't sure he was complimenting me but I do appreciate it when the bartender remembers what drinks I like. I headed downstairs into the dark. It was really dark and I was worried I might trip as I shuffled toward the dimly lit bar. The bartender shouted a hearty welcome and then he said knowingly, "I bet you want a Penicillin!" WTF

I replied, "What, the guy upstairs rang down? No he shook his head. I was at a loss until he took pity on me. He said, "I was upstairs the other day when you asked for a classic Penicillin. I make up all the drinks here so I noticed. Oh right, I said but actually, you look very familiar. Where have you worked before. When he said Red Herring it sounded right but I couldn't remember where that was. As soon as he told me it was next to the Silver Dollar the memories flooded back and we fondly reminisced about the drinks and food there.

Soon I had a classic Penicillin in front of me and we began to talk drinks. We included the only other guy at the bar in our conversation. He was rail thing, wore a scarf on his head, and had a robust but not too pornish mustache. I suspected he was staff there at Gerties. He was clearly interested but not so experienced. For the next two hours I enjoyed the back and forth and drinks.

Chad is a professional bartender who loves his job. He loves making drinks and he loves talking to people. While we chatted, more than twenty people, in pairs and sometimes larger groups came downstairs, got drinks and eventually left. At one point I was sure Matt Gaetz sat down at a two top. I did a double-take to be sure the woman with him wasn't Marjorie Taylor Greene in a wig. It was hard for me not to stare but I kept stealing glances. Eventually I concluded this guy was what Gaetz would look like if he wasn't befouled by evil. A very good looking guy!

When he left, I asked if I was the only one who thought that? No one had noticed but, by that time, Terrence, a large black man who'd come down with two white friends was standing next to me. He'd been ordering drinks when the bar conversation turned to German food and he joined our conversation eagerly. After delivering drinks to his friends, he returned to talk. When I suggested the guy who'd just left looked like the American traitor Matt Gaetz, he said no way! He went on to say Gaetz was a POS and if it had been him there might have been trouble. Lol, now that would have been memorable.

Terrence left wishing Chad and myself a good day, remembering both our names. It turned out the guy with the scarf on his head was a sous chef at nearby Bar Vetti. OMG, I'd meaning to go there but I worried D wouldn't like it. I asked him if they would make her a pepperoni pizza. He said they had one but it had calabrian and peppadew peppers on it. Yeah, can you take those off. Um yeah?

I said I'd just go check it out myself for dinner after I finished the Negroni riff Chad had excitedly made up on the spot using a special dry vermouth and something that wasn't Campari. He referred to it as a white Negroni. It was delicious!

Bar Vetti was only about a hundred feet down the sidewalk from Gerties. I enjoyed the early evening as I walked, it was comfortably warm with a gentle breeze and for the first time in a long time, Nulu felt normal. People were sitting outside the Taj and the Mayan Cafe, the evening was alive with conversation, color, and movement. When I looked in the windows of the new swanky Marriott Hotel it was the same inside and there might not be room for me at the bar.

I walked past the unattended hostess stand into a storm of blaring conversation. I stopped in front of an empty seat but there was a drink there so I turned around to the other side. I asked a man in a suit if the empty seat next to him was taken. It's yours he answered without looking away from his companion. I sat and picked up the wine list.

On my left were three young men, obviously of southwest Asian heritage. Within seconds I understood they were native English speakers and they were having a good time. The youngest one was next to me and he seemed barely old enough to shave. He was rather louder than the others and seemed to be mildly complaining about something. The bartender came over to them and appeared to pick up a conversation she must have started before I got there. It was really more of a lecture and she was telling them that she couldn't spend all of her time in front of them as she and another bartender had a full bar.

I felt myself tense a little, wondering if there was going to be an altercation. I didn't look at the young men but watched the bartender closely. While her words were stern, her body language seemed relaxed. I heard the man furthest away from me say, "That's fair." The bartender didn't acknowledge his words. She poured me a water and I asked for a glass of wine. Then I turned to the men.

"Are you guys from here or visiting?" I could see them tense up the young guy on guard most of all. I went on as if I hadn't noticed and said, I overheard you say this was your kind of place a minute ago. This is my first visit here and it's a bit fancy for me. They relaxed. I felt sure they were expecting to be challenged and I might look just like the kind of old white asshole who would do that.

We're from California the young guy said but we live here and work at Rabbit Hole. Do you know it?

Of course I said, it's something the city can really be proud of. I've been over there in the bar many times and the facility is gorgeous. Cameron seemed near to burst with happiness. He said, "We're just about to have a drink, will you join us? I said, sure what are we drinking. Rabbit Hole he said, "We got to represent!"

From that moment on, I had a dinner companion who was overjoyed to talk to someone who knows about the Kentucky whiskey business. When I said, the marketing for Rabbit Hole is genius, Cameron threw his hand up and pointed at the man farthest from me. Justin is our marketing!

Justin said well, to be honest I've only been there for 3 years and Cameron replied, "He's being too modest. We've only been open for 4 years. I asked Cameron, are you a distiller? I was when I first started he said. My uncle is the founder and I've got a business degree so now I work the financials. Wow, I replied.

He said, you have to come over and ask for us! We'll give you an insider tour. I waived that off a bit and said, I'll be sure to come back over but your beautiful column still is out where I can see it when I go to the bar on the roof. Sometimes I just stand at the end of the hall by the elevators and admire it. He said, "OMG we never get to talk to anyone like you!"

We had a drink of their Heigold and I didn't have to pretend it was good. I said, "I'd drank their sourced whiskey before but this was the first time I'd had something they'd distilled themselves other than their gin. It tasted more mature than I'd expected and I said I'd likely pick up a bottle now that I'd had it. I will.

Soon, Cameron's girlfriend came in and sat next to Justin. Cameron pretended to be annoyed and she seemed maybe a little suspicious of me. Soon she was sitting next to Cameron and was telling me all his faults. It was bar buddies in the best form. I asked for the whiskey list and suggested I buy us all a drink. I was disappointed by the selection TBH. The owner is a well-known whiskey aficionado and his BBQ joint just a block away has a much bigger selection of whiskey. I noticed an Old Forester Single Barrel Rye on the list and suggested it.

I specified it be served in rocks glasses instead of glencairns and we clinked our glasses when everyone had their drink. It was candy in a glass and far too sweet to be anything I'd recognize as rye whiskey but my bar buddies claimed to like it so no harm done.

When their food came, I settled my check and Cameron again expressed his pleasure at our talk. He renewed his invite to come to the distillery and I walked back out into the night.

When I got back to my car I looked up and saw Akasha Brewing was still open with people sitting at tables outside. The street at this end was quiet and peaceful. I remembered my last visit to Akasha hadn't gone well at all. The server there had refused to give me a taste of a beer. I was shocked. I'd already bought and paid for one beer when I asked for a taste. I said I was trying to decide which of two others I'd take home in a growler.

She said it was their policy not to give out tastes because people sometimes asked for lots of tastes and didn't buy a beer. WTF I had already bought a beer! I was so annoyed I'd decided not to drink at Akasha until they changed their stupid policy. If they were going to treat me like their worst customer, I wasn't going to spend my money there. Still, one more beer would be nice. Then I saw what I wanted.

That's it. A strong Belgian golden ale is what I had there!

[mr-entj]

Hello Mr. ENTJ I hope you are doing well. I am not too sure if you have previously answered such a question before but given your experience working during college and your current career experiences do you have any big tips or lessons you have learned about personal finances and just budgeting or money in general. Especially any advice for young college students.

You as well. Below are my top 5 most relevant posts on budgeting and money:

Hi Mr-entj. Do you have any advice for becoming more financially literate?

General money management advice

Hi Mr. ENTJ. When it comes to wealth, what is your relationship with and perspective on money?

Do you have any entries on your blog that covers student loans and how to approach them for someone who is nervous about debt? Thank you!

Investments and money

For young college students and finances, focus on 2 core activities:

1. Minimize student debt and spending: This is your main focus because you’re not going to get rich while in college, you need to focus all your energy on reducing your spending and getting the grades, experience, and relationships to be successful in your career after graduation. This means applying for scholarships, grants, work-study and financial aid aggressively and in a timely manner. Academic performance is a requirement for financial aid so pay attention in class, keep your grades up, and be proactive in searching for funding sources. 

For reference, I attended a top 4-year university in America (a country that has notoriously expensive higher education) without any financial support from my parents-- at all-- $0-- zilch-- nada-- null-- cero-- they paid for nothing. I strategically managed my finances to the point I actually made money going to college from the abundance of financial aid I received and my lack of spending. I didn’t sacrifice any of my college experience doing it either. This is how I did it:

Attended 2 years of community college before transferring to a 4-year university. 1 year of tuition and room and board is approximately $40,000 at my undergraduate university so this move saved me approximately $80,000. My degree only says my university name and there’s no mention of community college. 

Applied for 200+ scholarships every year writing simple essays and doing quick interviews. It only takes a few minutes of work to get hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars in free money. Don’t be lazy in this regard-- hustle. The multiple small scholarships here and there added up to tens of thousands of dollars so much that I made $4000 per quarter in excess financial aid that I saved for graduate school.

Worked an on-campus job (work-study) which is basically free money. I answered phones, worked on-campus events, and did administrative tasks a few hours per week while being able to study for my classes and run my online business (see below).

Ran a small online business selling video game memorabilia. I used my work-study money and subsidized loans to buy products from eBay and sell to customers on Amazon or Craigslist. I netted $1000-$2500 per month in profit. Look for going out of business sales, unicorn deals online, seasonal sales, and clearance items in stores. Buying and reselling products is relatively low effort if you can snag deals on the internet or at local stores, then sell the products for a quick profit. I paid back the subsidized loans before graduation using the profit from this business to avoid accumulating any interest.

Attended large group outings to socialize instead of 1 on 1 meetings. It’s better to spend $10 one time hanging out with 10 people together than to spend $10 ten times hanging out with people separately. This made socialization cheaper because I could split the cost of food and transportation with my friends without sacrificing my social life and without spending a ton of money I didn’t have. Everything from attending free on-campus concerts, going on trips to the beach nearby, or having movie nights where we could split the cost of pizza and drinks while still having a good time made college just as memorable and meaningful without breaking the bank. You don’t need to be jetting to Bora Bora during Spring Break to make friends or memories. 

2. Maximize post-graduate income: Do your research on your post-graduate career years before graduating and avoid making the top 3 job hunting mistakes. Don’t play around with debt, if you need the fear of God put in you about debt, then check out Dave Ramsey’s show where he counsels people in financial holes. This is critical to paying down any student loans quickly and starting your adult life in the best financial shape possible. You need to recruit for your career well during your college years-- I cannot stress this enough.

Here’s my post filled with resources to get you started.

[champagnesuperhoeva]

Seasonal depression is on its way back, so why not analyze another scene from Red Dead Depression 2???????

I’ve been meaning to do another screeching ramble about one of Red Dead Redemption 2′s many incredible scenes, but just couldn’t put my finger on which one. So I threw a rock and hit the Saint Denis bank robbery, that’s the story

strap in, motherfuckers, it’s time to regret the concept of empathy

It is such a missed opportunity that we weren’t able to chaperone the girls as they went about putting on their various bullshit personas to gather reconnaissance. I want to see Tilly reading a newspaper with glasses, a fake nose and a mustache

Something Red Dead Redemption 2 spoiled me on is just how much ROI they squeeze into every last line of dialogue. Not a single word feels generic or hamfisted. Every sentence, every twitch and blink, adds up to a greater whole. The more I watch, the more I unearth. There are several AAA titles that frequently get painted with the ‘Good Dialogue’ brush like Uncharted that don’t hold a candle to Rockstar’s work here. 

Take Hosea grilling Dutch here, for example:

Dutch acquiescing to Hosea’s justified criticism is depressing in its hindsight. Sir Spam der Linde is an arrogant blowhard that could give Dr. Gregory House a run for his money...and yet he still mumbles and bows his head when being told he needs to get his shit together. Compare this to earlier in the game, when he was snipping at both Hosea and Arthur for all their doubts and questions. Double that for the camp interactions you can find where Dutch and Hosea argue about the Blackwater Heist. 

Is reality finally sinking in a little for our manic pixie dream man? Does he just have a hard time bullying Hosea, who’s around 5,000 years old and doesn’t give a fuck? For every answer you get, you get another question...and I fucking love it. This character -- and the series at large -- toes the razor-thin line between transparent portrayals and thicc layers of intrigue. This kind of carefully sewn subtlety is sorely lacking in not just videogames, but mainstream media in general. Sometimes I still can’t believe I got to experience this game.

This little scene is just one of many ingredients to make you wonder that, if the bank job had turned out all right...if Dutch really would’ve started changing for the better. 

Arthur clutching his belt buckle like he clutches my neck in my dreams

So the plan is made and the cowboys are off to Sand Penis, and I bet nobody in the history of the world has made that joke before

Just the build-up to the bank sends goosebumps up my arms. 

Even with apprehension in the back of your mind, it’s hard not to get sucked into the whirlwind of adrenaline here. You have each member playing their part, from Abigail as the helpless damsel to Charles and Bill as crowd control. Great back-and-forth dialogue as characters anticipate what’s about to happen (with some delicious doubting from John). It’s like a group project, except you don’t want to slap your partners!!!*

*except micah ‘I Haven’t Scrubbed My Nailbeds In Fifty-Three Years’ bell

Fun fact: if Dutch hadn’t said ‘one last time’, the bank robbery would’ve been a success. Should’ve browsed TVTropes.

The direction of this game remains impeccable. 

This is a simple shot of a few dudes riding their horse...and it’s made just that much grander by the camera angles, slung low to the ground to create a stronger sense of scale. With the tense drums in the backing track and the sudden quiet that’s befallen our beloved anti-heroes, this provides the perfect finishing touches to one of the most memorable and stressful parts of the game:

The runway.

We start off this display of cowboy couture with Dutch Fam Der Linde, well-known in the West for wearing crushed velvet while hiking the open trail. Dashingly long coattails make up the bulk of this iconic look, with a sexy pop of red to round it all out. A complimentary red bandana lined with a hint of gold brings out the buttons, chain and belt buckle. Very regal. Much fucky. Still want to slap him for future crimes, so 9/10

A surprising comeback from the man who invented skid marks. Lavender pinstripes add a splash of character on an otherwise minimalist black ensemble. Complimentary silver bow on the hat and dark bandana makes me uncomfortably wet, so 9.5/10, would leer again

A classic suit with just a touch of more. A wide velvet collar with matching velvet cuffs create a refined softness, contrasting the gold buttons and dramatic coattails. Shoes shiny. Skin moisturized. Even his everyday ponytail looks fancier than ever. 15/10, if Javier kicked over my sandcastle I’d thank him

What are those????????? I think Bill got pranked by Uncle while out shopping for robbery gear. That, or he confused one of Susan’s tablecloths for a three-piece. The topmost layer of dust is so thick it could be peeled off and donated to charity. 3/10, could probably still pass for a picnic table

Shameless. Unacceptable. Walking around like a bootleg Egoraptor with a crinkly suit that looks like that oil-stained pizza napkin you keep forgetting to toss. Why did I take a screencap that makes it look like Dutch is jacking him off. Micah’s even jutting his beer gut out in an ominous foreshadowing for the Guarma chapter. ThereIsn’tANumberLowEnough/10

Arthur strolling in with that slow, confident walk that gets me pregnant in both legs, someone please fetch the plan B

Dutch calls a Hosea an artist and is most certainly one himself. He speaks with the affect of a poet, even as he’s holding a pistol in people’s faces and making them shit themselves in slow-motion. This man redefines stage presence. Why would he want anything less than the best, when this is the final hurrah of his iconic, infamous career:

THE RUNWAY: PART TWO

Bill out here just confusing everyone’s laundry for low-level loot. 5/10, may or may not be susan’s granny panties

charles: “is my iron giant cosplay valid robbery wear”

dutch: “no, charles, iron giant cosplays are not valid robbery wear”

dutch: “gorons from legend of zelda aren’t valid either”

JAVIER IF I GIVE YOU A 10/10 WILL YOU LEAVE

Here’s a little detail I didn’t notice (even after several viewings of this scene): Charles over in the corner looking like a dweeb.

Notice how awkwardly he holds that rifle: two-handed and with his knees bent, suddenly looking like he’s never handled a weapon before. This is such an odd contrast from the unapologetic badass we know. Remember, this is the same man who can wield a sawed-off shotgun one-handed like it’s nothing. One of the most adept physical fighters in a gang full of cutthroat motherfuckers. 

This detail on top of his dorky robbery gear? It’s actually a peek into just how out of his element he is. 

Charles has been with the gang for less than a year at this point. Even then, he’s usually helping with tracking, hunting and scouting. Whenever he goes off with Arthur on a mission, he’s always the first to suggest a peaceful route. This is not someone who’s used to robbing people for a living and it shows in the most adorable way. What you see here is a man putting on a persona of what he hopes looks like a bloodthirsty robber.

This whole scene is a fucking blast. Herding the upper-class elite into the far rom, figuring out the combination key under codenames, listening to the banter of the squad in the background. It doesn’t help I’m a slut for baroque-styled architecture and half my attention was on the pastel decor. Yeah, yeah, I know we have three thousand dollars on the line, but look at that gold filigree

These outlaws move like a finely oiled machine, not a detail out of place...which makes the ensuing mess all the more tragic.

...and this post is getting too long, so I’m going to post the second part separately. Ain’t I a stinker?

[sarahfyelloe]

sap mm training london1

Unemployment numbers are looking pretty bleak. Everyday the news seems to bring more stories of large and small companies alike laying off thousands of workers. As of this writing in January 2009 we are looking at a pretty tight job market. I saw a newswire story about a job fair for one company held in suburban Detroit. Four thousand people showed up for the one day event. I know due to the downturn in automotive sales that their region is hurting, but the job outlook seems to be pretty bleak just about everywhere. In this kind of competitive market, what can one due to stand out among all the other job seekers? Here are 2 job hunting strategies that will make you stand out.

(1) Your own website. Everyone puts their resume on line now, and so everyone has an email address and maybe a profile page at the large job posting portals. You should be using Facebook and MySpace to network in your industry, but not everybody has their own website. I think this is especially important if you are looking for any type of technical work. I would suggest you get a dot com domain name that includes your own name in it. Like bobsmithaccountant.com or technicalwriterbillgates.com Anything that includes your name. Get your name if it is available. Go to someplace like godaddy.com to purchase a domain name. Go someplace like hostgator.com for a cheap hosting account. There a a lot of tutorials about buying domains and c panel hosting on line. Twenty dollars will get you going.

Use 1 of the millions of templates available and learn how to customize it a little. Hire an inexpensive web designer if you can afford it. Instead of the usual pages found in a business website, you can have a pages for education, accomplishments, your family life, goals, work history...anything that might tell a potential employer about you. sap mm training london  Tailor your web design to the type of job you are looking for. An engineer will want their site to look clean and functional. A floral designer will want a more artistic design. Then you can plaster your web name everywhere on line that allows a link. Include it on your resume and Read the snext strategy here.

(2) Send a useful item with your name and or domain name on it to prospective employers. This is like personal advertising. I am stealing a page from the advertising industry here. Millions of businesses advertise themselves by putting their names on matchbooks, pens, calendars, shoe horns, key chains, hats, mouse pads, almost any item you can think of. I think this works best on a local level. Let's say you are a jewelry salesman looking for a job. Buy customized eye loupes or diamond tweezers or polishing cloths with your name, number and job title printed on them. Include your website address if you followed step 1 above. Then simply stop by every jewelry store in your area, ask for the manager, introduce yourself and leave the gifts and your resume. Easy.

If you are a SAP Trainer, or other software professional, mouse pads work very well. You need to tailor the items you are dropping off to the industry, but pens and mouse pads work almost anywhere. Are you a landscaper? How about work gloves with a little label sewn to it? I can think of dozens of items for almost any type of job. If you don't have the bucks, how about a $5 pizza with your resume taped to it. Drop it off at lunch time. I bet they read your resume. These are just 2 ideas to help get your creative juices flowing. Now get out there and get that job!

[caleblewis94]

Preview: The Door To Infinity

           Puck was now a forty-two-year-old man who still hadn’t learned his last name due to a grease stain from a slice of pizza obscuring the name on his birth certificate in the no-good year of 1978. Why couldn’t his mother or one of his eleven older siblings have told him somewhere during these last 4.2 decades, you ask? Why because they had all died in an oxygen tank explosion that had completely obliterated the house before the Fire Department could even arrive, of course. What else could have possibly happened? Puck’s mother whose name was literally Mother, and who had once been a nun before she was banned for playing Elton John on the church organ, could actually be called Mother Mother, the mother of Puck, because as the saying goes: once a mother, always a mother. That sure is a mouthful, thank God she’s dead.

Mother returned home from the hospital bringing with her a cart of portable oxygen bottles for her own mother, Mother the first, who suffered from COPD which was exacerbated by the pre-existing condition of being apt to not listen to advice or heed warnings. Upon the delivery of oxygen bottles, Mother Mother the mother of Puck finally thought to cut the umbilical cord. The wailing mucus membrane with the fat, pudgy face of a forty-two-year-old man on the disproportionately large head of a newborn had tripped her on the way up the stairs, reminding her that she had forgotten to “forget” him at the hospital. With a sigh, she cut the umbilical cord with the first thing she could find: a pair of safety scissors. The act was hilarious and took nearly fifteen minutes to complete. Afterwards, she lugged the oxygen bottles in and gave them to her ornery old witch, but minus the cool magical powers, of a mother.

Some say that a mother’s intuition can cause her to feel an impending sense of danger to her own. Perhaps this is why she went lovingly outside, cradling the slimy, writhing middle-aged newborn in her tattooed and cigarette burned arms,  and ever so carefully dropped Puck into the first pile of trash she had found lying by the street, which just so happened to be a random bale of hay in a DIY manger that her neighbors had attempted to assemble after purchasing it from Ikea before growing frustrated and throwing it half-finished in the street. One can say this motherly intuition saved the baby named Puck that would one day grow up to become the man named Puck. Then again, her motherly instinct didn’t seem to apply to her other eleven comically-named children.

Mother Mother, the mother of Puck, went back inside her home. Puck no longer cried. Now he sat in the Ikea manger with his arms crossed and his lower lip jutting out. This would become his signature look which would make him quite popular, albeit for mocking purposes, with all of the former high school football stars who would form the majority of his coworkers at the glue factory in his adulthood. Moments after his mother entered the house behind him, he would hear, though he wouldn’t understand because he was a baby and everybody knows babies can’t understand words, his mother shouting at his grandmother in her obnoxious twang of a Country accent that Puck would thankfully never acquire himself.

“God Dayum, you old bat, Cain’t you read?” Mother Mother, mother of Puck shouted.

“I can read, you little skank. I’m just having me a cigarette,” Shouted Mother, mother of Mother Mother the mother of Puck.

“I’m tired of you smokin’ meemaw!” Shouted the shrill voice of one of Puck’s siblings. Judging by the whiny tone, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume it was Kyle.

“That’s too dayum bad.”

“The sign says no smoking, because it could explode if exposed to fire!” Mother Mother, mother of Puck shouted back.

“Then why hasn’t it yet?”

“Comical effect!”

In completely coincidental, and in no means embellished or made-up fashion, the entire house exploded immediately after the joke in the dialogue was wearing thin. The sound of the explosion sounded to Puck like the winner to the 1978 Darwin Awards if they were around in that terrible, no-good year of 1978. Kaboom with a capital KA.

Now, it’s reasonable to ask why Puck? Why this ugly, slimy, miniature spitting image of Donald Trump? Why did this little clump of living smegma survive in lieu of his entire family being incinerated instantly like a bunch of redneck Icaruses that flew directly into the sun because they didn’t believe the Science that said the sun can hurt you? It is because of a thing called fate. Puck wasn’t meant to die that day. For, you see, you beautiful reader, you, Puck was destined for greater things, like developing a nicotine habit he couldn’t quite kick, working in a glue factory overseeing the melting of the horses, and his destiny to die in a hilarious accident involving a shopping cart at the age of 42. As a wise man once said, so it goes.

∞

           Puck, now a forty-two-year-old man full of past traumas and experiences that shaped him into the disgruntled, burned-out, and inconsiderate grump that people subconsciously hoped would drop dead, went to the supermarket. What he bought at said supermarket holds no importance whatsoever to the rest of the novel, but for the record was; 19 bushels of crab legs, 30 cans of Ragu spaghetti sauce, 20 gallons of vegetable oil, 12 cartons of increased fat milk, 8 sticks of extra-salted butter, 57 liters of Mountain Dew, 3 bottles of Coca-Cola that had been stuffed under the clearance shelf since 1958, 5 jugs of eggnog, despite it being the middle of April, two of those obnoxiously bright blue lightbulbs for some reason, and a Milkyway Lite because he was trying to watch his figure.

           Puck pushed his shopping cart outside. Of course his luck would have had him picking the cart with the broken wheel, causing it to limp along like a sprinter who had torn their ACL and was desperately trying to hobble their way across the finish line. Plus, the fact that he had so much food weighing down the cart didn’t help him steer it any easier. Life was so hard for poor Puck. On his way to his car, Puck was passed by an old lady on one of those automatic shopping carts that truly highlighted the pinnacle of modern invention. The old woman was smoking three cigarettes at the same time, blowing tendrils of smoke through her nostrils like a dragon who had already expended all of his (or her) fire and couldn’t ejaculate any more. She had an oxygen tank on the back of the cart, though she wasn’t using it. Maybe she’ll need it later, Puck thought. Yes, riding an automatic shopping cart around a store for an hour sure is exhausting work.

           Puck got to his car and popped the trunk, which promptly swung open much faster than normal, hitting him in the chin because even his car was tired of his shit. In the background was the sound of an explosion, but Puck thought nothing of this. He flung the groceries in the trunk and shut it back, then he promptly took the shopping and left it right there in the middle of the street, despite there being a coral only twenty feet away. It wasn’t that Puck didn’t see the coral—he did—he just decided to rebel. It was his way of sticking it to the proverbial man. Puck got in his car and drove home, the shopping cart looming menacingly in the parking lot, vowing to get revenge on the forty-two-year-old-man.

           When Puck got home, he realized that he had forgotten to also purchase a diet Mountain Dew, because—how can he watch his figure without a pound of aspartame in his system?—Puck lovingly kissed his wife goodbye, and by lovingly kissed his wife goodbye, I mean he didn’t kiss her goodbye, he simply said “I forgot something, be back in ten” then left. However, he wouldn’t be back in ten. In fact, he also wouldn’t even be back at the supermarket in ten, traffic was awfully heavy for two in the afternoon on a Sunday. Also, he wouldn’t ever be back because he would be killed in a tragic, yet hilariously Shakespearean way. A way that said, maybe there is a God who occasionally involves himself in the affairs of humans to deliver righteous justice.

           Puck went to the self-checkout line again, but this time at least he actually had under ten items. He hated the small talk Cashiers would make with him, especially the pretty twenty-something-year-old ladies who would make blatant attempts to flirt with him by saying things like “Good morning, sir,” “Paper or plastic?” and, worst of all, “Would you like a receipt?” The total on the screen came up to three dollars and twenty-three cents after tax. It was a bit more than he thought it had cost when he was just here half an hour ago, but he was trying to watch his figure, dammit, so he would not and could not be stopped. He paid for the bottle, and also a banana, and left, not even bothering to take the receipt that had printed from the machine.

           “Have a nice day,” said a blonde and blue-eyed nineteen-year-old with a smile that conveyed anything but a genuine smile inside. It was a smile that seemed to say that this young lady was going through her own personal troubles and was having a tough time but was trying her best to be strong and kind to others. To anyone else it would be inspiring, but to Puck it was just another attempt to flirt with him. Puck, not wanting to be rude, gave her that kind of sideways smile any suburban white person would give someone they accidentally made eye contact with in public, and walked by, sidestepping a random broken piece of an oxygen bottle by the door. As he crossed the windy threshold that separates the land of groceries from the humid, suburban air of the Greater Atlanta Area, he swallowed the banana in one gulp. It was a fun party trick he had learned in college. He didn’t have to waste time chewing, and everyone loved it. Especially the random man he had accidentally made eye contact with in the process of the great swallow.

           Puck walked out into the crosswalk without looking both ways, not that he needed to look both ways, there were stop signs and everybody in the United States obeys stop signs. He dropped the banana peel absentmindedly onto the ground and made his way towards his car.

           As Puck approached his car, he bumped into the shopping cart he had left sitting in the street—not the corral, mind you—thirty minutes prior. The cart rolled forward towards him, ready for its vengeance. If it were alive and wielding a knife, it would totally stab Puck right in the abdomen. For far too long Puck had violated its shopping cart family’s rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of being put back in the corral. But, luckily for Puck, it wasn’t alive. It was a shopping cart. In frustration with this minor inconvenience, Puck pushed the cart further into the street with one swift kick.

           “I should have used a basket,” He muttered to himself.

           However, the shopping cart heard him make this remark. Or it would have heard him if it were alive and had ears or some other method for processing auditory information. And if it were alive and capable of not just processing auditory information but also understanding English, this comment would have been the last straw. The shopping cart would teach him a lesson if it were alive. Puck was so lucky it wasn’t alive.

           Puck turned back to his car and fished for his keys in his pocket, except the keys weren’t there. What the hell, Puck thought. I just had them! He checked his pocket again as if he could possibly miss a keychain the size of Timbuktu, and to his utter shock, the keys hadn’t pulled a David Copperfield and magically reappeared. He turned back around to head into the store and angrily ask the poor girl behind the customer service desk if anyone had found and returned his car keys, as if she were the one herself who had misplaced them. However, before he could do so, something glimmering beneath the partially clouded sky caught his eye. His car keys lied in the bottom basket of the shopping cart that, after being kicked, scampered away before settling eighteen feet away from Puck and just a measly two feet from the corral.

           You got him now, you devious shopping cart you, the corral would have thought if it were alive and capable of thought. With a long, drawn out sigh, Puck crossed the street. He removed the keys from the lower basket and glanced at the corral which was now literally not even out of his way to return the cart to. The shopping cart was already facing towards the corral like a baby reaching out for its mother. Puck didn’t even have to walk forward at all to return it, all he had to do was lightly push the cart and it would be back in its rightful place. Puck didn’t do this. Instead, he took the cart and placed it back in the middle of the street for some reason, and then went back to his car.

           This would have been the final straw for the shopping cart if the shopping cart had any packets of straws left to give, never mind the rude comment about getting a basket instead. Oh, if only the shopping cart were alive and capable of inflicting punishment upon this horrible man with an even horrible-er—or, dare I say—horrible-est name. Puck? More like duck, the shopping cart would have thought, not that the cart would have any prejudices against ducks, it was just a slightly speciest saying it would have learned growing up in a family of shopping carts in the Southern states.

           Suddenly, like a car that had hit a pothole at 110 miles-per-hour, causing it to flip over multiple times before flying into a tree, a car driving at 10 mph, ignoring the 5 mph speed limit sign on the wall next to the cross walk, struck the banana peel Puck had left in the middle of the street. The car going twice the speed limit, lost control and swerved to the left, ironically enough while using a blinker. The out of control car collided with the poor shopping cart with an unquenchable thirst for blood and vengeance at the devastating speed of 2 mph. Puck turned around in time to see the accident.

What, scientifically speaking, should have sent the cart forward with the same force as the weak kick Puck had given the cart minutes earlier, oddly enough launched the cart at the speed of 200 mph directly at the man who never put his carts back in the corrals where they belong. Puck didn’t even have time to realize the error of his leaving-shopping-carts-in-the-middle-of-the-street ways, before the cart flew directly into his face, causing his head to explode like the 125,452nd watermelon destroyed by the great philosopher Gallagher, splattering blood all over a man walking past who had made the foolish mistake of wearing a white t-shirt over-confidant in his ability to avoid acquiring a stain, and sparking the obsession with blood of a three-year-old who was watching the whole scene unfold through a pair of binoculars from his parents’ house across the street.

Puck, the youngest son of Mother Mother the mother of Puck, and the youngest grandson of Mother the mother of Mother Mother the mother of Puck, was dead, though his story and misadventures wouldn’t end there. It was a tragic death. Nothing that has ever happened in human history has ever been more tragic than the death of Puck on that cloudy April day in the year of whatever year this is being read in. But don’t be sad—stop crying, society says it’s not cool to cry with empathy—for there was a sign that he had read thousands of times before that read: Please put your shopping cart up, we can’t afford another fatal accident. So, if it makes you feel any better, Puck kind of deserved it.

[h-o-l-l-i]

I Run To You

Frank Castle x OFC! Jane Runner x Billy Russo

Word Count: 6.3K

Warnings: Language, Implied smut (18+ only), blood, PTSD

Author’s Note: Requests are closed. Thank you for enjoying this series with me, it means a lot! Let me know if you would like to be added to any of my tag lists!

Everything: @negans-lucille-tblr // @coffee-obsessed-writer

The Punisher: @baseballbitch116 // @suchatinyinfinity // @harrysthiccthighss

Frank Castle: @hudsonbird // @harrysthiccthighss 

Billy Russo: @harrysthiccthighss​

Series: @me-robot-x // @its-my-little-dumpster-fire // @imaginecrushes // @jooheoniesdimples // @cole-winchester​

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (FINAL)

“I called Curtis…said you’d be down to see him later today.” Billy’s raspy tone spilled from his slightly chapped lips, his brown hair tasseled along his head that rested on the fluffy white pillowcase.

“You’re kidding right?” Jane rolled over on her side to glare at her fiancé. He tipped his head down as he readjusted himself to lean against the headboard of their California king sized bed. “You know I’m meeting with a dress designer today and the florist to finalize everything. I don’t have time to just go ‘down to see him’” she mocked his voice and rolled her eyes.

“Jane.” He sighed heavily as she slipped out of the bed, pulling the white sheet along with her, draping it around her small body. “I know you’re stressed with planning the wedding next month and everything but,” he paused and reached over the side of the bed and grabbed a stray article of clothing from last night and covered himself up.

“Stressed? Me? No, not at all, Billy. What makes you say that?” She said with extreme sarcasm dripping from her lips.

He motioned with his hands to her, “You know what I mean, Honey.” He leaned forward when she sat on the bed again. “Maybe we can get another wedding planner to help so you have some time to relax; take some time off for yourself.” He said, brushing a piece of stray hair behind her ear and pecking a light kiss on her forehead.

Jane closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, relishing in the love that she had for this man. “You’re too good to me, Russo.”

He shook his head and leaned back, pulling her onto him. “A king is only as happy as his queen.”

“Is that so?” She whispered as she placed a leg on either side of Billy’s nude body, “Something tells me you’re about to be very happy.”

His rough hands gripped onto her thighs and her lips latched onto his. The sheet cascaded around her and exposed her breasts. Jane raked her hands down the front on Billy’s chest down to his penis and began to pump his length making him inhale sharply at her pace.

“Eager, are we?” He teased.

“Maybe.” She grinned into his lips and gasped suddenly as he wrapped his arms around her waist and whirled her onto the mattress. His exposed body hovered over hers, his lips trailed down to her neck making her breath harder.

“I love you.” Billy growled, his rough stubble scratched along her skin.

Suddenly, Jane’s attention was brought from the burning bliss to the vibration coming from the nightstand. Billy halted his movements and sighed into her neck, making Jane roll her eyes when he rolled over and reached for it.

“Hello?” Billy answered the call with his brow furrowed heavily. 

“Un-fucking-believable.” She said under her breath and covered back up and wandered into the bathroom.

“I’ll be there in an hour.” Billy rushed with a hushed voice and tossed his phone onto the messy bed. “Baby, I’m sorry.” He came up behind her and rubbed her arms, pressing kisses onto her neck once more.

She turned her head towards him, “Work has been getting a lot more invasive lately…” she huffed.

Billy hung his head and let out a small sigh, “I know; and I’m so, so sorry, Jane.”

She turned to him abruptly, “You’re always sorry, Billy.”

___

“Hey,—” Jane said before she sighed heavily, “Listen, I know you just left but I was thinking; you know what, never mind—” she closed her eyes and shook her head, “I’m sorry, I have to go—forget I called.” She said shortly and ended the call. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder and tucked her phone into the back pocket of her ripped black jeans. She raised a hand up into the air and waited for a taxi to slide up next to her. “Where to?” The driver said, leaning back to look at the passenger he just picked up, “Wait, aren’t you—”

“Yeah, that’s me. Nice to meet you, no I don’t want to use my driver’s…thanks for the concern and I ain’t looking for any friends.” You smiled internally when you realized Frank was rubbing off on you. “Grantville Diner.”

___

She opened the door, the sweet chime of the bells alarmed at her entry. “you can have a seat at the bar if you’d like.” A woman shouted from behind the counter. Jane nodded and traveled over to the bar, eyes scanning her surroundings.

“Coffee, black, 2 sugars; that’s it thanks.”

“Still the same after all of these years, Runner?” A deep voice came from beside her, making her jump slightly.

“Thanks.” She said to the waitress before turning to the source of the deep voice. She furrowed her eyebrows inquisitively, “Curtis?” The man brought his fingers up and tossed his hood back effortlessly to confirm his identity.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love to see you Curtis but, I—just wasn’t expecting to see you here—”

“Just had to know that he didn’t put a tail on you, Jane.” He said, standing up and slipped Jane a small piece of paper, “He said you would know.” He paused before opening the door, “Good to know you’re doing better corpsman.”

Jane tucked the note into her pocket and allowed her eyes to follow her friend, her eyes connecting with his in a silent question. He simply nodded back to her in confirmation and immediately she paid for her coffee and left the diner and began walking.

A few blocks down she dug in her pocket to get the note out of her pocket. She looked down at it in her hand, ‘best pizza in NY.’

___

“Hey, Sara.” Jane smiled to the receptionist for ANVIL, walking briskly towards her soon-to-be husband’s office; a bag in hand with Chinese food.

“Good evening, Jane.” She smiled, her brow furrowing, “I’m sorry, Mr. Russo is in a meeting until 8 tonight.”

“Oh—” the smiled drained from Jane’s face.

“I’m sorry; I assumed he told you—I can tell him that you came—”

“No, you know what… I forgot—with the wedding next month and everything, I just forgot that he told me about the meeting tonight—” Jane lied. “Here.” She paused, plopping the paper bag onto her desk, “Dinner’s on me.” 

___

The black coffee steamed in the small glass mug, her eyes lingered out of the window of the diner. “Need something else, sweetheart?” The waitresses warm voice caused Jane to bring her attention back from the window.

She clicked the side of her phone and gazed down at the time before answering. “No, um. Thanks.” She twisted in the booth and slammed down a ten dollar bill on the table, “Keep the change.” Jane’s cheeks were brushed with the slight New York breeze. “Fucking Frank Ca—” she paused. “Hello?”

“Don’t try to find me because you won’t.” A unfamiliar man’s voice spoke immediately. “I have Frank—I’ll be in touch.”

“Who the fuck is this?” Jane spat to the stranger, spinning round using her military knowledge in attempt to pinpoint the caller before the call dropped. “Wait, who are you! Fuck!” She yelled in anger finding her effort to be unsuccessful. “Goddamnit!” Her eyes welled with concern and frustration.

___

Billy tucked his hand into the pocket of his dress pants as he stared out of the large windows in his office that overlooked the city. “Hey baby, how was your day?” 

“Peachy.” Jane replied shortly, the exhaustion evident in her tone.

He tightened his jaw and hung his head in disappointment within himself, “I’m sorry it’s so late and I couldn’t take you to the appointment; work is…busy—” he paused and stood from the chair. Jane sighed heavily and he changed the subject, “How’s your dress; you like it?” Billy said, sitting down at the desk in his large office.

Jane held the phone to the side of her head, “Yeah, it’s going great. Not going to tell you any details though; it’s the rules.” She smiled at herself in the mirror. “Hey, I’ll call you back I’m getting another call. I love you!” 

“I love you too—” Billy finished.

“Hello?” Jane’s voice peaked as she switched the phone call.

“Jane,” Frank’s voice was deeply low and the sound flipped Jane’s stomach as he continued speaking.

“Miss Runner, are you okay? My dear you’ve gone as white as your dress—oh my goodness!” The designer shouted as Jane’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she became limp; her body slumped down onto the ground with a solid thud. “Miss?” He tapped her shoulder, “Help!”

Jane’s eyes fluttered open, her dress designer held her head within his hands, “Wh—where’s—” she began to speak and attempt to get up.

“Sh, Jane. Billy is on his way. You passed out; you should stay down.”

“No, I—I need to go. I have to go,” she restated and swatted away at their hands. She stood up and her knees buckled but she grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself. “I’m good,” she affirmed, “Don’t fucking touch me! I said I’m good!”

“Where is she?!” Billy’s eyes were wide as he burst through the double glass doors of the bridal designer store. “Where the fuck is my fiancé!”

The older woman dressed all in black behind the granite reception desk pointed towards the back. Billy took off running, “Jane!” He shouted, “Baby, what the hell happened?” He looked her over, “Are you okay? Honey, I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out.” He hugged her.

She shook her head, “I’m fine Billy, I—I don’t need to go to the hospital; I’m fine.”

“Jane, Honey. You passed out, you are not oka—” Billy looked deeply into her eyes.

“No, I’m fine. I’m sure it was just because I haven’t eaten or something—I’m fine really.” She clarified, “I came to your office with dinner but—yeah, I just haven’t eaten—”

“Fuck, I’m such an asshole.” He hung his head, “I’m so sorry, Jane—work is just…it’s complicated—but I won’t let that come before you again; ever.” He kissed her on the lips gently. “Come on.” He said grabbing her by the arm and stretching it around his neck. “I’m taking you home, and I’m getting you all of the food in New York and then some.”

“I’m fine, Billy; really, I can walk.” She tried to brush him off of her.

“Nope.” He stood and strongly held her in his arms, “Not going to happen.”

___

“What do you want for dinner?” Billy gently trailed his fingertips on her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“It’s far—” Billy stared back at her waiting for her to continue, “Angelo’s Coal Oven Pizzeria? West 57th.” She smiled.

“Done.” He grinned and rolled off the bed.

___ As soon as Billy’s Escalade drove onto the street below, Jane dug through her purse and found her phone, redialing the number Frank called her from when she was in the bridal shop. “Pick up, you son-of-a-bitch, pick up.”

“Jane.” The man paused, “I expected you to be here alrea—”

“Frank—is he okay?” She cut him off.

“He is alive, yes; your fellow corpsman was able to lend him a hand that you were not able to.” He paused, “I know what happened and I know why you aren’t able to get away to watch him—”

“Who are you? Where do you have him?”

“Name’s Micro. He’s safe; that’s all you need to know.”

___

“How in the hell do you lose 40 tons of weaponry?” Billy’s hot breath erupted into the morning air of the shipyard. “Tell me how the fuck that happens!” He shouted loudly making the surrounding men flinch in fear. Billy hung his head and ran is hand down his beard.

“I’m sorry, Sir but he killed them all—I don’t know what happened to the shipment,” a scared, young man stammered.

“What?!” Billy raised his head quickly. “The fuck did you just say?” He said stepping up close to the man. “What man—who?”

“I—I’m not s—sure, Sir.” He trembled.

“Fuck!” Billy exclaimed through gritted teeth; he turned to his men, “Do not let it happen again, do you fucking understand me?” He pushed his pointed finger into another mans chest. “I want 24 hour surveillance on all future shipments and do whatever the fuck you have to do to find ‘him’.” He glared intensely. “Do I make myself clear.”

Billy’s associates nod intently as he walked briskly away towards his blacked-out escalade.

___

Jane’s hands trembled as she gripped her bouquet in her hands, the shiny diamond soon to have another ring next to it. Her hair gently curled and pinned back from her radiant face.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” Her father’s voice shook slightly as she intertwined her arm in his, tears threatened to leak over onto his cheeks but he cleared his throat when the music started.

The huge cathedral doors opened simultaneously, all eyes shifted to Jane in her delicately beaded white wedding dress and her father who stood proudly at her side.

Jane’s eyes were fixed on the strapping man that stood at the alter waiting eagerly for her; Billy’s face beamed with a wide, white smile that was seemingly never going to leave his face.

Small flashes of the photographers captured the first kiss as a married couple, both of the smiled blissfully, Jane raised her large bouquet up into the air and happily held her husband’s hand in her’s as the both walked down the aisle in a sea of applause.

___

The van’s tires slowly rolled to a complete stop along the docks, the cement still damp from the small storm that ran through the city. “Shipment is confirmed.” A man whispered into the phone that he held gently onto the side of his face.

Billy’s scruffy chin nodded, “Good. Don’t let a repeat of last time.”

“Yes, sir.”

___

“Congrats, Mrs. Russo.” Frank’s rough voice rumbled with a painful smirk on his scruffy face.

“Thanks—” her voice trailed off.

“Jane…” he stepped forward towards her and lowered his gaze to look her deeply into her eyes. “You good?” He inquired, “You don’t have to go—”

“After what I am finding out now; I’m not sure that I know who he is anymore, Frank…” she looked back to him, “Now that we are married, I have access to all of his accounts and—and I—”

“I know,” he lowered his jaw, “an’ the last thing that I want to do is see you hurt again.” He paused, allowing a silent moment for the both of them to reflect. “That’s it, you’re not going.” Jane’s eyes flickered to him as she opened her mouth to protest. “No—I ain’t hearing it, Jane. You’re married to him now an’ I don’t want anything to happen to you; who know’s maybe I’m wrong about it being him.”

“When are you ever wrong about this kind of stuff, Frank?” She whispered over her shoulder to him. He remained silent and continued to pack his bag for the bust. Once he was finished, he walked past her and placed a calloused hand on her shoulder before he turned the corner.

___

Frank’s black boots moved stealthily along the rusted metal ladder to his high vantage point that overlooked the dockyard. He carefully and quietly retrieved his sniper rifle and placed it into perfect view, “I really hope it ain’t you, Russo.” He whispered, looking through the scope of his gun.

Black SUV’s parked and the doors opened wide, the armed men stood vidgulate wile the leader exited the center vehicle.

Frank’s heart unexpectedly began to beat harder, “Fuck.” He exhaled when he saw his best friend stand center of the transaction.

___

“Glad to see that the hiccup last exchange didn’t scare you off.” Billy extended a hand and smiled. “I can assure you that the issue has been eliminated and the perimeter is secured.”

The other man stood silent and eyed Russo before he nodded to his men to begin moving the crates.

“Time to go.” Frank said with his lips pursed together, pushing his broad body up with his large biceps. Frank cocked his guns to make sure that he was prepared and leaped off of the side of the building onto the top of another and made his way to the street. He ran quickly and took care to make sure that he went unnoticed and had a reliable cover if shit hit the fan earlier than expected.

Frank leaned his back up to a large metal shipping container and screwed on the silencer on to the barrel of his handgun. “Hey!” He said lightly, just enough to gather two guys attention.

They were young and dumb; hardly any hair on their chests and no guns drawn as they walked blindly towards the noise. As soon as the turned the corner Frank sank two bullets into them and they hit the pavement with a thud.

“What was that?” The man that stood in front of Billy said; making Billy’s eyebrows furrow, deeply creating a crease between them. “I thought you said this area was secured?” 

“Johnson, Gary. Go check it out.” Russo ordered. He turned around to his driver and secretly said, “Get the survalence backed up; I got a bad feeli—”

Gun shots rang out, echoing over the water and into the darkness of the night. The lights shut down across that plain of New York, encapsulating them in a shield of black. “You’re fucking kidding me?” He laughed at Billy, “this is what you call a secure perimeter?”

“This is no issue, New York has been experiencing some power shortages recently, should be up in three, two—” Billy counted down, the lights began to flicker back on and off. “See.” He paused and smirked, holding his arms out from his sides, “Completely secure, my friend.”

“You’re men have been gone for a while…” the man said, his suspision continually growing, his concern threatening for him to back out of the business deal.

Just as Billy was opening his mouth to reassure him, Frank sprung around he corner and began shooting. Billy ran around the front of the car, dodging the shots from both parties of the deal.

Countless casings covered the ground, blood pools surrounding some of the unlucky ones. It was silent; Billy still knelt down behind a car, his personal driver next to him wielding a sharp knife now that his clip was empty.

Billy looked over to the end of the car then back to his driver, Lawrence.

“Whoever you are, you’re fucking dead!” Russo shouted, “Dead!”

Frank continually kept his cover while traveling around the dockyard, making sure that everyone he could kill was already dead. “I’m already dead.” He grunted. He turned around quickly at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Lawrence shouted and stabbed at Frank, slicing his hand as the blood began to seep out of it.

Frank’s grip on the gun released in response to the pain that seerred through his hand. Expertly, Frank fought with Lawrence hand - to - hand; Castle punched him square in the jaw, making him stumble backwards, creating some distance between them.

“Come on, son-of-a-bitch.” Frank snarled, blood dripping from his balled up fist. Lawrence picked up his knife and began to fight with Frank again and again; instead he took the brunt of the of the interaction with the punisher.

Frank took a little bit of pity on the man because he was genuinely trying to fight, but he wasn’t that good. Right uppercut, broke his nose, blood drained from it generously, making him bend over and hold his nose, but he still had his eyes on the punisher, who stood closely to him.

One final attempt from Lawrence found success as it stabbed deeply into Frank’s upper thigh. Frank gritted his teeth in the pain and brought his two fists down on the back of Lawrence’s head, knocking him out, ending the fight as the sound of sirens becoming increasingly closer.

Frank looked down at his wound, “Fuck,” he pursed his teeth and pulled out his phone, hobbling away. “Jane, I need you. I got stabbed, I think if I pull it out, I’ll have a couple minutes.” He said quickly, “I’ll call with the address.”

Lawrence blinked back to consciousness, his vision clearing slightly, just in time to see the punisher limping into the darkness; his ears perked up as he identified the incoming sirens. He shot up quickly and stumbled to the car and drove him and Billy away quickly.

___

“How much blood have you lost? I’m on my way, Frank. Just, don’t touch it, try not to move it either.” She said through the speaker phone as she frantically tore through all of her medical supplies that she still stored at the penthouse that she shared with her husband Billy. “Castle!” She shouted when she couldn’t hear his breathing anymore.

“Y—Yeah, got it.” He grunted, “I’m not sure what I’ve spilled…West 46th and 7th ave.” he said breathlessly before the line went dead.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” She muttered to herself, frantically stuffing medical supplies into her green corpsman bag, grabbed her keys and left in a hurry.

___

“Honey?” Russo yelled through the messy house. His heart rate increasing as the fear raced through is veins. “Jane!” He shouted louder with desperation in his voice. His dark brown eyes traced the clutter that was scattered all of the house looking for blood or bullet casings. “Baby! Ja—” he stopped yelling and reached into his pocket and called her cellphone.

___

Jane walked to the intersection very fast, her pupils dilated widely as the adrenaline and anxiety filled her blood vessels. She glanced down every alleyway that she passed until she found him.

Once she spotted him she sprinted down to him, kneeling and doing a quick assessment of his injuries. “Frank.” She said.

“Jane.” He smiled and raised his hand to touch the side of her face.

“I—I can’t, Frank.” She said, the lights getting increasingly bright by the second, the sounds became muffled within her ears, the blood seeming to spread across her hands, the passing cars beeping at each other, car doors slamming caused her to slip back to the first time that she treated him; leg wound on her second tour.

“Jane…Jane! Hey!” Frank elevated his voice enough to snap her back to the present. “We aren’t over there…you good?” He knew, even in this state…he knew.

“I can’t do everything here, Frank.” She batted her eyes to focus herself, her hands working on his injures while keeping conversation with him. “Micro, can you get him here?”

Frank knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, “Who do you—”

“Can he get us somewhere off the grid, Frank?” She urged.

“Yeah, my phone.” Castle said, “Call him. One.”

“Micro, it’s Jane. Frank’s in bad shape, need you at West 46th and 7th ave. now!” Jane said rapidly and dialing Curtis.

___

“Help me get him in the car, Curtis. Call him on Frank’s phone, give him the address that you’re taking us to.” Jane said, prepping Frank’s arm for an IV.

Mirco who had white knuckles while driving back to his hideout, looked through the rearview mirror, “I’m not comfortable with that—”

“He’s good, just do it!” She ordered and tossed him the phone.

___

“Jane, where are you? Are you okay? The house looks like a mess,” he paused, pacing the floor, “I just want to know you are okay. Call me.” Billy hung up again, “Fourteen calls and nothing…” he said to himself.

Billy’s phone rang and he answered it in a flash, “Jane!?”

“No, Sir. But I have a face from tonight.” Lawrence said. “I’m on my way.” Russo said before he hopped in the elevator. “Play it.”

“There.” Billy pointed, “Zoom in.” He crossed his arms, “Holy. Shit. That’s Frank Fucking Castle!” He said in awe, “The Fucking Punisher.”

His face flushed and he dragged a hand down his growing beard and then his heart dropped, “My wife! Jane, she’s missing, hasn’t been answering my calls…can you track it?”

“Yes, sir, but only if she answers the call…”

___

Micro helped Jane lay Frank down on a table, “What, do you need?” He said curiously.

“Get me my bag, a chair and wait for Curtis.” Jane ordered him. She tucked her fingers into his jeans and ripped them open to access the stab wound better.

“Jane.” Curtis started, “Oh shit.” He emoted and then put on his gloves and helped her relocate the terniquite after his jeans were ripped.

“Heart rate and blood pressure are abnormal. Stab wound to upper thigh, was alert earlier but going in and out now, unknown blood loss, I have an 18 gauge in his right elbow, my blood infusing to keep him stable.” Jane gave Curtis report with all of the pertinent data on him.

“Jane.” He said sternly.

“My blood is compatible, I’m good Curt.” She reassured him with a nod. “Alright, Frank. One. Two. Three.” She said and then ripped out the knife that was below the terniquite. Frank’s eyes shot open at the pain and Curtis pushed down onto the puncture wound with a stack of gauze.

“Good job.” Curtis affirmed.

The two corpsman were able to quickly control the bleeding and get his vital signs stable within a couple of minutes.

___

“Shit!” She looked at the many missed calls from her husband and she called him back. “Hey, sorry I—”

“Jane! Oh thank God, are you okay?! Where are you?!” He said frantically, while they were tracking her call.

“Yeah, I, um. My car is broken down at West 46 and 7th…I am fine. Just having a bad day and needed a drive.” She lied to him.

“I’ll send Lawrence down to get you.” He paused, “I’m glad you’re safe, I thought something happened to you…I was really worried about you. I will see you soon, I love you!”

“I love you too.” She replied. Jane rushed back into the hideout, “Curtis, you good to stay here with him…at least for tonight. Billy came home and was worried, he’s sending the driver to get me, said my car broke down.” She huffed and peeled off the bandage on her elbow. Curtis nodded in agreement.

“Call me if anything changes okay?” She asked, “If I leave now I should be able to run there and be there before he is…”

“You gave Frank a lot of blood—” Curtis warned her. She shot him a glare and backed off, “Alright, just looking out…I’ll take good care of him, Jane.”

___

***the next week***

___

“I want 24 hour protection on my wife, if they are after me they will be after her; if anything happens to her I will personally make you eat your own balls, understand! I want everyone all over New York to find this son-of-a-bitch. You get him to me, you get half of a million dollars.” Billy said smacking his hands on the top of the large silver table.

___

“Grantville Diner.” Frank’s voice came through on the headphones that Jane wore as she went running through the city.

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” She huffed between breaths, not knowing that there was two men tailing her, courtesy of her husband.

___

“Hey.” She said breathlessly and sat down in the corner booth. “How’s your leg?”

“Let’s just say I don’t stand a chance keeping up with you anytime soon…I’m good, thank you.” He said sipping his coffee. “I uh, got you some too, how you like it…” he said pointing to the other steaming mug.

Jane’s fingers wrapped around the mug and interlaced with the handle, the large diamonds on her left hand twinkled in the morning sunlight that was shining through the window.

“He’s your husband.” 

She toyed with her rings and sighed, “I don’t care. He’s not the same man I fell in love with and married…he’s turned into a monster, Frank. A wolf in sheep’s clothing and I can’t let him hurt anyone else. I’m helping you take him out.”

Frank looked up tp her through his thick eyelashes, “You sure about this?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” She didn’t hesitate and she leaned in towards him.

The two of them quietly enjoyed eating breakfast together, both unknowing of the tail that they had grown.

___

Billy’s whole body shook with a mixture of heartache and wrath, he gathered the pictures and headed home.

“What the fuck do you do during the day?” He said, his tone thick with anger.

Jane crossed her arms and tipped an eyebrow up to him, “You want to try again?”

“Frank.” Billy said, “You’re working for the punisher now?” He spat his words at her.

Her heart sank into her stomach, she had never seen him this angry before let alone at the fact that she was working with the deadman, the punisher, Frank Castle. “Frank is dead, Billy.” She stood her ground.

“Oh yeah?” He left the room, his voice became distant, “You want to explain to me what the fuck that you, my wife is doing with Frank fucking Castle?!” He shouted and flopped the pictures down on the island in the middle of the kitchen.

She stared intently down at them, “You had me tracked?” She said in intense disbelief.

“Oh come on, Jane! I was tracking Castle, I never expected to find out that my wife, my own fucking wife, the only woman who I have ever loved to be selling me out to the punisher, behind my fucking back!” He shouted at her, getting chest to chest with her.

“Billy—” she attempted to be firm with him and create some distance from him.

“Don’t, Jane!” He yelled in her face. 

She yelled right back to him and pushed him away from her, “You’re a monster! You make me fucking sick to my stomach! When I found out just what the hell you were doing—I never married this Billy! You—you’re different.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t make this about me.” 

“Then what the fuck is this about?!” She screamed at him. 

“Do you love him?” Billy’s voice suddenly low and dull as he stared down at the floor and dragged his hand down his trimmed beard. 

“What?” She knit her eyebrows together harshly.

 “Do. You. Love. Him.” He looked up to her, his eyes pricked with painful tears that made her heart break. 

“Billy,” she started but that was all it took for him to lunge at her and inject her with a sedative. “I’m going to make sure he knows what he’s done, to me, my wife, my whole fucking life I have made for us.” He whispered into her ear as she slipped from consciousness.

___

“Frank I think you wanna come see this!” Micro shouted through the bunker.

“What’s up?” Frank hopped up the two steps and leaned down to view the monitor.

“It’s…just watch for yourself…” Micro trailed off.

___

“Where are you going, Frank? We don’t even know where she is.” Micro swiveled around in his chair. 

Frank continued walking briskly over to his guns, “I don’t fucking care! If anything happens to her because of me, I—I can’t lose another woman I love, not because of me…not again. I ain’t lettin’ that happen, Lieberman.”

“We have to think about this, Frank. We don’t know what we are walking into…” he attempted to rationalize with the punisher.

Frank snorted, “I ain’t scared, I’m pissed off an’ pissed off beats scared every time.”

___

“Come on you fucking shithead!” Frank shouted, his voice echoed through the empty, remote warehouse. Jane twisted her head, waking up tied to a chair with her hands tied above her head and a gag in her mouth; she tried to shout back, knowing that it was Frank that was here too, but nothing audible came out.

“Russo! You coward! Tyin’ up your wife!” He analyzed the room with his gun drawn, micro just a block away. “That’s pretty low, even for your standards…no wonder why she’s with me.”

“An awful lot of talk for a man that’s about to fucking die.” Billy shouted, unable to locate his location due to the echoing of their voices and movements.

Jane’s eyes identified a boot that was slicking out from behind a door, soon the rest of the man turned the corner. “Frank!” She mumbled through the cloth that was tied around her mouth.

Frank’s eyes widened as he lifted his fingers to her and then to his ear, “She’s here, center room, alive.”

“Alright, Frank. Let’s do this, nice and easy.” Micro talked into the phone into Frank’s earpiece.

Frank swirled around the spiral staircase and down to her, his hands rapidly pulling at the restraints. He ducked and held his shoulder when a bullet rang off of the metal walls, deafening and disorienting. 

Jane cried out and tears pricked the corners of her eyes, some of Frank’s blood splattered onto the side of her face and she furiously tugged at her hands and rocked in the chair to try to get free.

Billy emerged from the dark corner that he was hiding in, his gun raised. He came over to Jane “Is that your blood?” She pulled away as best as she could when he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She tugged at the arm restraints harder, they loosened enough for her to slip out of them and knock the gun from his hands.

Jane frantically threw punches at Billy, connecting two to his jaw and ribs. Frank emerged from the cover he was behind and tackled Russo. Jane pulled the gag out of her mouth and picked up the gun aiming at the two men wrestling on the ground and beating each other.

Frank got the upper hand and straddled Billy, his fists unleashing all of his fury, knocking his unconscious. After Billy’s eyes were closed, Frank slumped over for a second, he slowly stood up, blood seeping from his nose and mouth from the fight. “Jane…” he held his hand up, “No—” he slowly approached her.

Jane stood there with the gun in her shaky hands and tears streaming down her cheeks, “I—I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” She sniffled, “I can’t kill him, I—I’m sorry, I can’t do it.” She stammered, lowering the gun.

“You don’t have to.” Frank grabbed her hand in his and her cheek, “Look at me; Hey!” He eventually got her attention, “You don’t have to—”

Jane nodded and closed her eyes, allowing Frank to take the gun from her hand. She opened her eyes at the three gunshots that he fired, the painful tears coming from her heart, her knees became weak and she fell to the floor. 

Frank dropped the gun and knelt down next to her and wrapped her in his arms, ignoring the pain from his gun shot wound from Russo. He stroked her arm and cried with her; the first time in a long time that he actually cried…

“Come on, we gotta go, Jane, it’s over.” He paused, “We gotta go.” He began to get up to his feet, taking her with him.

“What about Billy?” She looked at her husband’s lifeless body again.

Frank turned her chin to look away from his body, “We will figure that out later but we have to go right now Jane or things are going to get a low worse for us.”

___

***the next day***

___

The bunker was silent, the sound of the news channel cutting through the silence that lay thick from the earlier events. “Turn it up.” Jane said, her eyes red from crying, her affect flat.

“You sure, Jane, I mean.” Micro questioned her.

Frank stood next to her and wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulder supportively, “She said turn it up.”

“Breaking New this morning. Millionaire, CEO of ANVIL and former special operations U.S. Marine, Billy Russo found dead in what police described as a robbery gone wrong. His wife, former special operations U.S. Navy Corpsman, Jane Russo is thought to be kidnapped and taken by the same people who have murdered Russo. Stay tuned as we are gaining more information.”

“Turn it off.” Jane ordered him and sat down and poured herself a shot.

An extended time of silence felt oddly comforting for her and Frank.

“Are you sure you’re ready to disappear from the world? It’d be really easy for you to pop back up—” Micro indirectly asked if she really wanted this.

“No,” she shook her head, “I want to leave that life behind…” she said and her eyes traveled to Frank.

“What?” He smiled slightly to her, “Come on, you can tell me…anything.”

“I—” her cheeks blushed slightly “All of these years I never would have thought this is where my life would end up…I’ve never stopped loving you, even seven years later…” she ended her ramble.

Micro looked at the exchange the two of them were having and cleared his throat, “You two are so cute, it’s disgusting.” He mumbled.

Frank threw a pen at him making everyone have a lighter mood… “Here’s to having everything, losing everything and starting over.” Jane said while she poured the shots for everyone.

“Here,” Micro walked over to Jane and gave her a paper, “Congratulations, Jane. I have successfully killed you…” he paused and tucked his hands into his robe pockets. “You are now known as Nora Daniel.”

Jane took the papers in her hands and Frank nudged her to get her attention, “Nora, huh?” He smirked, “I like it…”