#my business cards made them think i was carrying a ton of cash

[cinematicnomad]

i gotta fly to delhi today on my own from chennai and the way i am already preparing for the security check to pull my carry on bag into secondary inspection...

[bomberqueen17]

tiny house decision

as i wrote up the thing debating whether i should continue, i went to bed thinking, “man i really should just-- build it” and when I woke up and everyone had said “build it” that pretty much solidified it. So. Thanks everyone for the feedback, I think y’all are right-- there’s no certainty that prices will come back down, there’s no good reason not to do it if in any way I can. so i’m gonna.

So-- now I have to start spending money. Ha.

progress report on the foundation:

The foundation is nearly done. I hauled like 800 pounds of rocks for it last time I was here, picked out of the flower garden-- I started by picking up the little piles that had been picked into the aisles between beds-- and then this visit I’ve hauled about 500 pounds of rocks out of the high-tunnel (greenhouse thing), at VegMan’s request-- he’d raked them into the aisles in there and then the apprentices had made a rule that every time they walk out of that place they have to carry some rocks out, so they had a pile down at one end. I picked the aisles for one whole load-- two full milk crates, a full 5-gal bucket, and a full 3-gal pail-- and then came back and collected that pile of rocks into two milk crates, then picked three 3-gallon pail loads into the drywall bucket and the tops of the milk crates, then one final 3-gallon pail load. Hauled that over, dumped it into the foundation site. Then I picked more rocks out of the soil we excavated from the site-- the lower parts of what we dug out were also mostly gravel, and now that’s been rinsed by the rain, so I pulled out all the stones, three or four milk crates of those, and pitched the bigger stones one at a time by hand because the pile’s right there, and then picked a 3gal pail worth of smaller gravel off the far side of the pile and carried it over.

If you add up what I’ve picked, I’ve moved just a little under a ton of rocks into that pile.

The tractor has moved probably ten tons of gravel, and will get a couple more today, is the plan.

I’m also going to try to plant my flax today, which is great and all except I don’t remember where I put the flaxseed I had saved from mice attacking it in the granary and brought inside to the guest room and now it’s not there so clearly my sister tidied it.... to where..... ??? I found one tiny seed packet of it which is not what I want At All so like. Who knows.

And VegMan said he’d make the bed for it, but I don’t know if he finished that yet. BIL and I have to set and level the concrete blocks for the foundation but we don’t have the concrete blocks yet but he has to get the gravel finished first and the site he’d been excavating it from ran dry so he has to find another vein of it up on the chunk of the farm called the “gravel bank” which is called that for obvious reasons.

Anyway I had applied for, and have now had approved, a credit card just for this-- the idea being, I could get one with points to earn cash back on all this dough I gotta spend, and also then every little House expense goes on it and then we pay it off but we have a perfect accounting of everything directly House-related so we know what the project cost.

My secret, that I haven’t explained to most of my RL people, is that I want to have room in this tiny house to set up both my spinning wheel, which is shoved in a corner of my living room and not very accessible, and the floor loom my mother owns that she never used and I want to figure out how to set up and attempt to use. Part of my idea with the design is that I can have the loft for my messy personal business, and then the lower floor is reasonably presentable so I can work and have people come in and work there as well. So, we’ll see how that goes, LOL.

Ugh I’m so relieved just to have made the decision. Now I have a quote for $5k worth of lumber and $1k of roofing, which does not cover quite half of the projected expense of the project and doesn’t include any of the finished kiln-dried stuff for the framing, any of the windows and doors, or any of the insulation. Woo!

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.18

a/n: all i can say is... BRING BACK CHRONOHAUL :) hope ya’ll like the chapter!

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 19

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito​ @meximorrita @awesomeee19​​ @celestial-kanzakii​ @laure-lo​ @team-wang-puppy​ @aydience-world​ @choros-main-hoe​ @but-kairis-not-that-smart  @colorseeingchick (i cant seem to tag again :( hope this lands in your timelines!)

“Kurono.” Overhaul snapped. “We’re done for the day. Take Eri-chan to her room and give the new toy to keep her busy.”

Finishing the last part of the job, Kurono pinned Eri’s bandages and carried her. Watching as Overhaul left the room, he felt the little girl trembling in his hold. The past few days, his boss had been a little harsher on the girl and it showed when he opened her up without being warned. Patting her head, the flinch did not help in the tense aura surrounding the base.

Once he locked her doors, he walked down the dimly lit hall and passed by Overhaul’s office. The faint sound of him typing away in his laptop made him stop in his tracks. It was rare for him to even look at his laptop. Something must be bothering him more than ever, for sure.

Knocking on the door, he was told to come in and entered silently.

“You’re on the laptop.” He commented and lazily flopped on the sofa. Taking his mask off, he rubbed his face and leaned on the back rest.

“I can see that.” Overhaul’s eyes remained glued to the screen. “Is there something you need?”

“D’you talk to her yet?” He yawned and stretched his limbs. Legs ready to bounce should his boss show any sign of rage.

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“Just askin’.” He shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with his fingers. “Eri-chan’s in her room now and the toy still didn’t lighten her mood. Not that it ever works.”

He merely hummed and continued typing.

“Mind if I ask what exactly happened?” Kurono sat up with perfect posture. His legs angled to the door, ready to make a run for it. The tension was too much. Even for the precepts. He could care less about the budding lovelife his boss had but the limit was drawing near.  Hearing the laptop slam close, Kurono stood up and inched his way to the door.

“You have absolutely no business learning what happened behind those closed doors. But, if it pleases your curiosity, the woman mentioned her time with Ackerman.” Overhaul impatiently tapped his index finger on the desk. The other hand massaging his temple. “Satisfied?”

“What else did she say?”

“She said that her emotions aren’t there for the bastard and that she has her eyes set on someone else.”

For someone who played shogi skillfully, Kurono had to admit that his friend was as clueless as  the word could imply. Using all of his strength not to twitch his eye at the ignorance being displayed, he let out a sigh and went back to the sofa.

“So why be pissed about it? Clearly she’s interested in you.”

“I am not pissed. I am merely agitated at the turn of events.” He stopped tapping his finger and stood up. Exiting himself out, he decided a long bath might cool his head.

“You do realize she only did that to rile you up. You’re losing to her game, Kai. I bet a shit ton of cash that she wanted to see if a reaction would suffice and looking at you now, she got exactly what she wished.” Kurono talked the fastest he’s ever attempted in his life. “I’ll also bet my money that you ignoring her only adds to her growing problems.”

“And what makes you say that, Kurono?” He was now facing the arrow-haired man. Fists clenched tightly.

“One of the men saw her entering Nighteye’s agency.”

“THAT Nighteye?” He cocked a brow and took a step closer to the sofa.

“Yes. Her car remained parked for quite some time. By the time she left, I was told she was speeding towards the precinct.”

Gathering his thoughts, Chisaki found himself seated across Kurono. His bird mask resting on the table between them. The surgical mask now on full display showing the shadows his face offered. Without realizing it, his brows were furrowed and teeth gritting.

“If it’s bothering you, why not just call her or send a message.” Kurono shrugged.

“If she has been spotted entering the agency, chances are she’s been part of the heroes schemes all this time.” He was nodding to himself. “And she had the audacity to act like she was part of nothing. Smart move for her but not careful enough.”

Squinting at the train of thought he had just heard, Kurono rested his elbows on his thighs.

“So, you think she’s teaming up with the heroes?”

“She is.” He leaned on the back rest.

“She told you?”

“Not outright.”

“What gave her away then?”

“The night I left, she mentioned how the heroes don’t have a clear map of the base and only an outline. That was either a slip or intentional. From the turn of events, it may have been accidental.” The memory of that night, having his body so close to yours made him fiddle with the hem of his gloves. The scene of having your flushed face so near to his made him smirk under the black mask. Glancing at the calendar, though there was no need, it had been three days since the both of you contacted each other.

“Do you think we’ve been bugged?” Kurono asked. His eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other.

“No.” Crossing his arm against his chest, he let out a long sigh. “Not yet, at least. But knowing them, it’s bound to happen and they will use (y/n) for that.”

“What do you intend on doing?”

“Buy me a new sim tomorrow, Kurono. It’s best if communication is cut. The Quirk erasing bullets are nearing its completion. Any upcoming hindrances would disrupt the plan.” Taking his phone out, he checked for any messages. Seeing as there were none, he turned it off and threw the sim card across the table. The small plastic landing inches away from the edge.

“You’re not going to overhaul it?” This was something he was not expecting.

“No. Burn it.”

“You’re…” He took the sim into his hand. “You’re really serious about this.”

"Those rats are on the move. The chances of her bugging our base is high. Knowing she's not the type to refuse, it is best to cancel out any communication." Picking up his mask, he let out a silent sigh and wore the said item. "No need to fret, Kurono. I've already prepared the necessary actions."

"Knowing you, there's no need to fret." He too took his mask and wore it as well. Fixing his hood, he stared at his friend. "What about the Fukuo Kai case?"

"That is in two months. The hype would have died down." Standing up, he fixed his coat and motioned Kurono to follow him out. "Besides. If (y/n) really has an interest in me, she would know the perils of harboring emotions. Let's go. I'm famished."

"Pardon?" Kurono stopped walking and stared at the back of his boss.

"Even the strongest villains need nourishment."

"Oh, uh, sure." Not sure what to do next, he rubbed the hems of hood. "Shall I ready the car?"

Seeing the nod, he blinked himself back to reality and went separate ways. Walking towards the garage, the blue-haired man replayed the events. He wasn't too sure but he could feel how your mannerisms were slowly rubbing off of Kai. Not that he minded, it was just… weird.

Taking the sim from his pocket, Kurono weighed out the options of burning or keeping the small object. Kai or even Overhaul wasn't too fond of keeping mementos, but his sense of gratitude was always strong. His ways of repaying debts were always admirable, no matter how absurd his methods may be.

Once he was now seated in the car, he knew exactly what to do with it.

The following day, Tsukauchi took his seat beside you. A brown paper bag now resting on your desk. After the heart to heart talk inside your car, you are more than glad that nothing has changed. He still treated you as his partner, as well as his close friend.

"Here are some updates for the Fukuo Kai." Reaching out for a folder, Tsukauchi pulled it with his fingertips till he finally grasped it. "We have detected some movements in their western branch. Me and the 4th division will be checking them out 3 days from now. Care to join?"

Checking your schedule, it was vacant and you agreed.

"So what're your plans now?" He asks while grabbing a small chip from your meal. "Nighteye?"

"Yeah. They’ll be discussing who’s who within the eight precepts.” Despite trying your best, you couldn’t help the slight slumping of your shoulders. Slowly nodding at the words that left your mouth, you chuckled and shook your head.

“Are you debating whether or not to tell him you're a part of the scheme?”

“I can’t but I feel like he’s caught up. I tried to call him last night. Yes, I know it’s cheap of me. But, his number was unavailable so…”

“He probably was off doing villainous deeds.” Tsukauchi patted your head and dragged his seat back to his cubicle. “He’d be a real jerk if he won’t contact you within the next few days. Trust me. Not even bad guys can resist the temptation of women.”

“You’re making me sound like a prostitute, Nao~” You commented while checking your emails. For now, nothing caught your eye. The occasional spam emails were present and one from Hawks but you could save that for later. Any more birdmen was not in your priority.

A few minutes passed and you were now engrossed in typing reports. When the lights of your company telephone lit up, your eyes darted to Namase’s door. It had been a long time since the both of you conversed, or let alone saw each other. The fact that he was calling you only meant bad news. Recalling every case you left unsolved, you were quite confident that this was nothing worth worrying about.

Picking up the phone, you braced yourself.

“Namase?”

“Bet you’re wondering why I called you, right?” Right. You forgot. This man held no filter whatsoever. “Well no need to worry. I just had to inform you that we received an anon caller. Do you wanna put him on the line?”

“An Anon caller? For what case?” You grabbed a pen and paper.

“For the Arson case.”

“Can you put him on the line?”

“Sure~”

Namase put the Anon caller thru and you waited till you were sure he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“Hello?” Even if you weren’t sure whether or not you should receive this call.

“Is this (l/n)-san?” His voice was low but clear enough for you to hear. “I think I have some good information about the fires.”

“I’d love to hear it but I had to hand over the case to the HPSC not too long ago. I can give you their hotline number if you want.”

“They scare me. I would prefer it if it was you who passed the message to them. Are you free later at 4pm?”

“Let me just check my schedule.” You knew you were free but you felt the need to look up the person. “Can I have your name, if that’s alright?”

“Tetsu.”

“Okay, Tetsu-san. Where do you want to meet up? Is a cafe alright? Or do you want a private room in the precinct?”

“A cafe please.”

“Alright, We can meet by the Nooks and Books. ’ll be the one wearing black. I’ll see you later.”

With no greetings, the line ended and you put the phone down. Gathering your stuff, you began to skim through each article you recently read about fires. Granted it had been a while since you last heard any news about fires, the tip was or could be useful. Of course having to talk to the HPSC was something you were not looking forward to.

“Nao, I’ll be taking my leave now. Anything you want me to bring when I come back?” You peaked into his rather messy cubicle. “Geez. Calm down with your cases, buddy.”

“This is only for the meantime.” He scratched his neck and stared at the scattered papers and folders. “I’d like a creampuff, though. A creampuff sounds nice in these trying times.”

“Aight. I’ll bring you a box later.” You said as you exited the floor.

It only took a few minutes but you were now seated in another desk. One where you wished you were not a part of. Greeting the heroes who had just entered the meeting room, you smiled at the sight of Deku and Mirio.

“(l/n)-san! Long time no see!” Deku greeted you and took the vacant seat beside you. “How’s work?”

“Work is work. How’s school? Are you holding up? Must be difficult to juggle this raid and academics.”

“It is but we have supplementary classes so I can manage.”

“Your classmates with Uraraka, Asui, and Kirishima, right?”

“Yeah!”

Exchanging a few more small talk with the heroes, you locked eyes with the hero sitting beside you. The scruffy hair, eyes that looked like they haven’t slept a single second, and the trademark scarf resting on his shoulders. Giving a shy smile, Aizawa merely responded with a lazy nod before Nighteye finally entered the room.

“As you all know, today’s agenda will be task distribution. Let’s get on with the details now, shall we?”

The tasks were distributed rather well. Fatgum Agency would be accompanying the front of the team. Right alongside Nighteye and Aizawa. The other heroes were tasked to stay outside and guard the entrance for any possible nuances that might occur. The police staff were divided into two groups. Being given ample time to assign which officers would be in the outer and inner group, you merely nodded and took the list of names.

‘Great. More work.’ Flipping the pages, most officers were people you had worked with before. At least things wouldn’t be so difficult.

“(l/n)-san?” Nighteye snapped your thoughts away. Adjusting his glasses, he rested his elbows on the desk and leaned in. “How’s the task of bugging Overhaul?”

“I haven’t been in touch with any of them for a few days now. I will be trying this week if the situation allows.”

“Alright. If that succeeds then things will go much smoother and will surely pick up speed. Best of luck. Any questions?”

“Are there any updates about the League of Villains being tied with them?” Deku asked.

“As of the moment, there’s no movement from them. So, it’s safe to assume that they only have minor participation in said event.” Nighteye replied without batting an eyelash. He really was confident in this raid.

Feeling guilt rushing through your veins, you shifted in your seat and silently exhaled. Once Nighteye gave the adjournment, you scurried out of the room and made your way to the cafe. It was a bit traffic but you would still be able to arrive on time. With the cafe being near the station, parking would be no trouble.

When things were now settled, you were now walking towards the cafe and found yourself now standing in front of the cashier and saying your order. Taking your number, you looked for a private booth and sat there. It rested in the corner so Tetsu wouldn’t be too uncomfy.

When the clock struck 4, you were now staring at the lobby waiting for that Tetsu to arrive.

Sure enough, a man with a hood entered the cafe and made eye contact with you. Seeing as he walked towards your booth, it was safe to assume that this was Tetsu.

“Are you Tetsu?” You asked the man wearing the hood. With the sunglasses and mask, you could only make out such little skin his face had.

“I cannot stay long. But I came to hand this over.” He slid a small brown envelope. His head hanging low making sure you wouldn’t catch a glimpse at his covered face. “I hope this can assist your case.”

“To be fair, please stay while I go through the contents of this envelope.” Taking the envelope, you slid the content out only to have a sim card laying flat on your palm. “What kind of information does this hold, Tetsu-san?”

“That information is sensitive so you can check its contents before handing it over.”

“But, I’m not part of the Arson case anymore. Would you still want me to hand this in or redact a few messages.”

Overhaul did not mention you were no longer part of the case. Cursing at how blank his mind was, Kurono glanced at the environment before he exhaled deeply.

“I will only say this once, so listen carefully.” He uttered.

“This isn’t about the Arson case now, is it?” Sliding the sim card back, you carefully placed it inside your bag and focused on Tetsu. The words that came out of his mouth made your heart beat faster. Clenching your fists, you braced for whatever he would say next.

“Kai has been on edge and it’s been such a pain in the ass. I don’t know what the hell made you decide to mention Ackerwacker but you got what you wished for.” Kurono’s voice was low. Barely audible due to the cafe’s music. “But, it would be a lie if I said he hasn’t been more human ever since he met you.”

“Can you take your mask and shades off?”

“You’ll probably just arrest me right here.” Kurono took his shades off revealing familiar gray eyes.

“You were that guy from the restaurant?” Your eyes widened at the realization that Overhaul had interfered that early on. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but ya’ll did me a great favor.”

A slight smirk appeared on his lips as he took the mask off. It felt different having his face exposed after a long time.

“I can see why he took interest in you.”

“Why meet me, though? Wouldn’t this only risk in you being overhauled and shit?”

“I have my ways. Kai instructed me to get rid of his sim card but I don’t know. Perhaps you can make use of it in your private life.”

“Well, to be honest, the heroes don’t fully trust me.” You shrugged. That was nothing new. “It sucks having to juggle work and personal feelings in this particular case. Guess both of us are in a pinch.”

“Perks of being with Kai.”

“You should probably get going… Chronostasis, right?” Putting his disguise back on, a switch flipped in your mind. “Hey you mind if I get your number? If you have one, ofcourse.”

“Why?”

“I like to make my connections.” You winked. When he took out his phone, you in turn took something out of your pocket. Placing it on the table, you pushed the small box towards the villain. “I’ll text you the instructions later, aight?”

“What’s this?”

“You’ll know when you open it.”

With that, Kurono pocketed the small box and left the cafe. When he was out of sight, you rubbed your face and groaned.

“Damn it.”

- - - - -

a/n: hohoho Kurono now enters the picture! hope ya’ll enjoyed this chapter! :) Mimick is still writing down Overhaul’s waiting list! if you guys have any questions or just wanna be tagged :) feel free to spam me! take care!

[emospritelet]

Twisted Fate - chapter 12

40 “Don't make excuses for nasty people. You can't put a flower in an asshole and call it a vase.”

8 “I can’t do this again. I won’t.”

Please send me a prompt from this list or this list to fuel the angst and smut

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11]

[AO3]

x

Gold’s leg seemed to be more painful than usual, his gait more uneven as he left the apartment building and stepped out into the cold evening air. His head was in turmoil, thoughts and emotions whirling in thick clouds, rent by jagged bolts of hurt and indignation and the first hints of deep, dark sorrow. For a moment it was too much, and he stopped abruptly, causing the person walking behind to stumble and swerve around him with a muttered curse. Gold clutched at his cane, leaning on it with hunched shoulders as he breathed deeply. 

He was surprised to find that he was shaking, tears pricking at his eyes, and confusion over his reactions only added to his anguish. Her rejection was something he had come to expect by now, and certainly was what he deserved, but it was getting harder to push aside and ignore. A four-hour drive back to Storybrooke was the last thing he felt like facing, and so he made a decision. He would stay another night at the hotel, as he had originally planned, and return to Maine in the morning. Which meant that he could deal with his unwanted thoughts and feelings in one of the two ways he knew. Ignoring them wasn’t proving too easy, so perhaps obliterating them with whisky would work.

Nodding to himself, he left his car where it was, and walked to the nearest bar. It was too warm, the air thick and moist, and there was a large flat screen television showing a hockey game that was a little too loud for comfort, but at least it was fairly quiet. Gold sat at the bar, near the door that led to the back offices and as far from the noise of the television as he could.

“Whisky,” he said, to the sleepy-eyed bartender. “Make it a large one.”

“Toasting your fortunes or drowning your sorrows?” asked the bartender, and Gold gave him a cool, flat stare.

“Enjoying my privacy.”

The bartender grumbled something uncomplimentary as he poured the whisky, but Gold didn’t care. He drank it too quickly, the liquor burning his mouth and throat, rough and raw. It gave him something to think about other than Belle, so he pushed the glass across the bar when he caught the bartender’s eye.

“That’s bloody terrible,” he said, and the bartender shrugged.

“I got a few different kinds, if you want to pay a bit more.”

Gold wrinkled his nose.

“No, I’ll have another glass of this toilet cleaner, please,” he said. “I’m not drinking it for the taste.” 

“You got it.”

The bartender poured him a second glass, eyeing him appraisingly, as though he was trying to work out the reason for his bad mood. Gold waited for the inevitable, unwelcome intervention.

“Cheer up, buddy,” said the bartender. “You know what they say: shit happens. You just gotta try to rise above it.”

There it is. Gold sent him a level look.

“Shit happened over seven months ago,” he said coldly. “Right now I just keep digging my way deeper into the sewer, so I’m really not in the mood for empty platitudes.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I almost always do,” drawled Gold. “Are you gonna give me that drink before I die of boredom?”

The bartender muttered something about where he could shove his drink, banging the whisky down in front of him. Gold drank it more slowly than the first, in small sips that stung and burned. The noise from the television rose, accompanied by shouts from the customers watching, and then a raucous, collective cheer as a goal was scored. Gold curled his lip.

“Hey there.” A dark-haired man leaned on the bar next to him, reaching into his pocket and flourishing a card at the bartender. “I’m here from Spencer & King Associates. Picking up the books?”

“Oh, right.” The bartender dropped the rag he had been using to mop up spilled beer. “I got everything out back.”

“Cool.”

He pushed away from the bar, following the bartender through the door, and Gold turned back to his whisky, watching amber light swirl in its depths. The glass would be empty soon, and he had already decided he would order another. 

“Thanks, man.”

Gold looked up as the bartender held open the door that led to the back offices. The dark-haired young man was carrying a large box stuffed with files, and Gold recognised him as Belle’s friend. Henry’s father. He was wearing a suit and tie beneath a heavy wool coat, the tie somewhat askew beneath a thick scarf. The light of recognition flared in the man’s eyes, and he pushed the box of files onto the bar. 

“Uh - Alex Gold, right?” he said.

Gold nodded an acknowledgement, and the young man smiled, dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I know we met the other day, but I didn’t introduce myself,” he said. “Neal Cassidy.”

He held out a hand, and after a moment Gold sat back on his stool and took it, shaking it briefly.

“A pleasure.”

“You here in Boston to see Belle?”

“I was,” said Gold stiffly, slumping forward onto his folded arms again. “We went shopping for the baby. And paint for the apartment.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re gonna help her decorate the place,” said Neal. “Me and Emma. That’s my wife, by the way. Don’t think Belle introduced her, either.”

“No.” Gold took another sip of his whisky.

“You joining in this painting party?” asked Neal. “There’s pizza and beers in it for you. I’m guessing Belle could use the help.”

“I’m sure she could,” said Gold dryly. “She just doesn’t want it from me.”

He was aware that he sounded bitter, so he took another drink, swallowing the last of the whisky and gesturing to the bartender for another. Neal leaned on the bar with a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.

“Look, it’s none of my business,” he said. “But she’s been through a lot, you know?”

Gold was silent, watching the bartender pour another measure of the terrible whisky, and Neal continued.

“Thinking she’ll have to raise the kid alone, worrying about college, her father being a useless tool - she’s had a ton of crap to carry around,” he said. “I guess it’s not exactly surprising she wants you to take a step back. Get a bit of space, you know?”

Gold clenched his jaw, resenting both being given advice by a total stranger and the fact that Neal probably knew Belle’s mind far better than he did. Neal seemed to take his silence for contemplation.

“For what it’s worth, I get it,” he said. “I get not knowing about the kid for all that time sucks. And I get that you want to be there to raise it. Stepping up for them means a lot, and Belle’s gonna see that. She’ll come around. You just have to give her some time.”

Gold reached for his whisky, throwing it back in one dreadful, burning mouthful, and setting the glass down with a dull clunk before turning a freezing stare on Neal.

“Well, you’re certainly right about one thing,” he said coolly. “It’s none of your business.”

He pulled some cash from his pocket, throwing it onto the bar, and stomped out, ignoring the pain shooting through his leg. Everyone was just brimming the fuck over with good advice.

x

Belle managed to fill her week with work and study, enough to keep her from thinking about her relationship with the father of her child. Until she lay down at night, of course. Telling him to stay away had hurt him, she had seen it for the briefest of moments in his eyes before he had given her his usual flat, expressionless look. She didn’t like causing him pain, but it hurt her more to have him there, excited for the baby’s arrival but still lost to her. It hurt to have him so close and be unable to touch him.

Despite Gold’s instructions to the store to leave it a week, the delivery turned up on Wednesday while Belle was out at work. She returned with sore feet, reeking of burgers and fries, to find Marco excitedly beckoning her to the secure closet where he had stored the boxes of flat-packed furniture and baby things. He got his son August to take them up to the apartment for her. August was handsome and dark-haired with a ready smile, and happily loaded everything into the elevator with her. Belle wondered if he could smell the diner on her as they rode upwards, but she was too tired to care. She gave him a tip from her wages when he had finished carrying everything in, and collapsed onto the couch in relief when he had gone.

It felt good to work what she knew would be her final shift at the diner on Friday evening. Gold had been true to his word and transferred a sum of money to her account, and Belle sat for a moment as she stared at the balance showing on her phone, unused to having no financial worries, and unsure how to feel about it. It was as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she was grateful to him for that, but she wasn’t sure she would ever get used to not having to count every penny. Perhaps that was just as well. 

Saturday was bright and crisp, and she spent the morning studying, seated at the kitchen table and enjoying the sunlight streaming through the window as she sipped tea and made notes. She had time to make a sandwich for lunch and ate it quickly, so that she could tidy the place up a little before Emma came over with Neal and Henry to help her paint.

“Thanks so much for this, you guys,” said Belle, as she let them in. “Pizza’s on me later, okay? I made some iced peach tea, and there are sodas in the fridge.”

“We brought beers, too,” said Neal, holding up a six-pack. “Although I guess that’s just for me and Emma.”

“No beer until the painting’s done,” said Emma firmly. “Which room’s first?”

“Uh - the nursery, I guess,” said Belle. “Right this way.”

x

The afternoon passed enjoyably, loud music playing as they dipped rollers in the paint and put colour on the walls. Neal was responsible for the delicate work of touching up corners and edges, with Belle, Emma and Henry focusing on getting the bulk of the colour on. Everything Gold had bought for the baby was stacked in a corner of the lounge, ready to go in the nursery when the painting was finished. Once the first coat was on, Belle showed the others what they had bought, and Emma cooed over some of the toys and outfits.

“Reminds me of when Henry was tiny,” she said, holding up a fluffy white romper. “Man, they’re so cute when they’re all little and helpless.”

“I’m cute now,” said Henry.

“Yeah, and you’ll be even cuter when you’re my age,” said Neal, tickling him and making him giggle. “What’s this, Belle?”

He tapped one of the large cardboard boxes leaning against the wall.

“Crib,” said Belle. “Those boxes are a whole new set of furniture for the baby things.”

“I told you you could borrow our crib,” said Emma, and Belle sighed.

“Yeah, and Alex said you two might decide to have another baby in the next year,” she said. Emma snorted.

“While I’m still studying? Doubt it. What kind of masochist would want to do that?”

“Hey, I’m right here,” said Belle evenly, and Emma winced, making her giggle.

“Oops. Don’t listen to me, honey, you know what I meant.”

“I know,” said Belle, with a grin. “It wasn’t exactly in my life plan either.”

“I guess babies come when they come,” said Neal, echoing Gold’s words of earlier in the week.

“Guess so,” said Belle quietly. “Anyway, he was kind of on a furniture-buying roll. I don’t think I could have stopped him, even if I’d tried.”

“Looks like this painting party’ll turn into a flat-pack furniture building party later on,” remarked Neal, patting the box. “I definitely shouldn’t drink too many beers if that’s the case.”

“I’ll still be sober,” said Belle, with a chuckle. “If one of you understands the instructions, I think we’ll be okay.”

“The baby’s gonna have loads of cool things, Belle,” said Henry. “Can we take it trick-or-treating on Halloween?”

“Uh - sure, I guess so.” 

“Yeah, the Halloween outfits for babies are adorable,” said Emma. “How d’you think Gold’ll react to being presented with a miniature pumpkin drooling on his suit?”

Belle couldn’t help smiling at the mental picture.

“I don’t think he’ll mind that,” she said. “He’ll have to get used to the increased dry-cleaning bills.”

“Maybe he’ll switch things up,” suggested Neal. “Dress down a bit more. Jeans and shirts, maybe.”

Belle snorted.

“I’m not even sure he owns a pair of jeans.”

“Oh, come on, everyone owns a pair of jeans!”

“Not him,” she said, in a wry tone. “I guess it’ll be interesting to see if having the baby changes anything about him.”

Including his inability to show emotions, she thought. Will he love our baby? Will he let them know, or will he bottle up his feelings and pretend he doesn’t care? I’m not sure I could stand to watch that. She felt her mouth flatten as she followed the others back into the nursery to make a start on the second coat of paint, an uneasy sense of dread filling her. No child should have to wonder if their parents loved them.

“I saw him, by the way,” said Neal, jerking her out of her reverie. “Gold.”

Belle looked around, surprised.

“Where?”

“Bar two blocks from here,” said Neal, drawing his paintbrush in an even line around the light switch. “Monday evening, so I guess after you went shopping. He was sitting at the bar drinking whisky like it was on sale.”

“Oh.” Belle chewed her lip. “Did he talk to you?”

“Not really,” said Neal. “Said hi. Stared into his drink while I tried to say something supportive. Told me it was none of my business.”

“Oh,” said Belle awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” said Neal, with a shrug. “Not like he was wrong. Guess I wouldn’t want a stranger getting in my business either.”

“Don’t make excuses for nasty people,” said Emma, rolling paint briskly. “You can’t put a flower in an asshole and call it a vase.”

“Mom!” said Henry, horrified, as Belle and Neal burst out laughing.

“What? I’m right.” Emma straightened. “He screwed up. I mean it sounds like he knows it and is trying to make amends, but the guy still has a way to go before he’s a model citizen.”

“Yeah, well, I guess he’s being a model expectant father at the moment,” said Belle, with a sigh. “Looks like me and the baby are gonna want for nothing.”

“That’s good, right?” said Henry, and Belle smiled at him.

“It’s good,” she agreed. “It’s more than I expected. He seems - he’s really excited. Like he can’t wait for the baby to get here. Like it’s all he can think of.” And if the baby wasn’t coming, he wouldn’t even talk to me. He’d be back in Storybrooke, pretending what happened between us meant nothing. Or maybe it did mean nothing. To him. Maybe I really was just something to use to pass the time.

She chewed her lip, and Emma seemed to pick up on her mood.

“Come on guys, less talking, more painting,” she said.

They made short work of the second coat, three of the walls now a fetching shade of lilac, the one opposite the door a calming pale blue. Emma gave a final few strokes with her roller, then dropped it into the paint tray.

“Okay!” she said. “That’s two coats done. Why don’t we head out and get some fresh air before we start on the kitchen? Hot chocolate at that deli we passed?”

“Yeah!” said Henry enthusiastically. “And muffins?”

“We’ll check if they do ‘em, kid.”

“The muffins are pretty good,” said Belle. “But the apple tart is to die for.”

“Sold,” said Neal, clapping his hands together. “Come on, buddy, let’s go clean up.”

They wandered out in the direction of the kitchen, and Belle wiped her hands on her overalls and stretched, sighing. Emma was eyeing her knowingly.

“It’s hard having him back in your life, huh?” she said quietly.

Belle nodded.

“I spent months wishing he was here, and now he is, I can’t decide which is more painful,” she said, her tone subdued.

“You still love him,” said Emma gently.

“No.” Belle shook her head. “No, that’s - that would be stupid.”

“Yeah, and no one ever said love was logical.” Emma reached out to take her hand. “Belle, it’s been pretty clear to me since the day we met that you’re still in love with the guy. That’s only become more obvious since he came back into your life.”

Belle was silent, wishing she could deny it, and Emma sighed.

“Just tell him, honey,” she said. “It’s only gonna eat you up otherwise. Tell him you love him, and that’s why you can’t stand having him around.”

“I told him I loved him before,” said Belle bitterly. “Pretty sure that’s how I ended up single and pregnant.”

“Yeah, and now you know he’s not running anywhere,” said Emma.

“Yet.”

“You seriously think he’s gonna bail?” said Emma. “Why would he when he’s gone to all this expense?”

Belle stripped off the overalls, tugging her shirt straight.

“Who knows why he does anything?” she muttered. “Come on, let’s go get that apple tart.”

x

Painting the apartment made Belle feel as though she had achieved something, and the newly-decorated nursery, complete with baby furniture and stocked with toys and clothes, was a welcome sight. It made her smile when she saw it, and she felt, if not exactly ready for motherhood, then at least more prepared than she had been a week earlier.

That Monday, Gold arrived to pick her up after class, as agreed. He was his usual polite self, but more cool and reserved, and remained largely silent during her medical appointment. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or not. Dr Jekyll clucked over her weight again, but said that otherwise she and the baby were doing well. Gold walked her back to the car, her arm linked through his, cane picking its way across the parking lot.

“Not long now,” said Belle.

“No.”

He glanced across at her.

“Are you nervous?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Mainly because it’s all a new thing, you know? I can read a hundred books on childbirth, but until I actually go through it…” 

She shrugged, unsure she was making herself clear, but he nodded as if he understood. Belle put her head to the side.

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you nervous?”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” he said automatically, and closed his eyes, looking as though he wanted to bite his tongue.

“Why?” she asked.

Gold seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then opened his eyes, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach them.

“Well, as you said, it’s all new.”

“You’re not the one who has to give birth,” she said, giving him a wry smile.

“No,” he said. “Of course not. I didn’t mean that.”

“Then what?” she asked gently, and he sighed, looking as though he wished he hadn’t said anything. The wind ruffled his hair, the sun gleaming on silver strands.

“It’s what comes afterwards, I suppose,” he said hesitantly. “Raising our child. Keeping it safe. Being - enough.” 

“I guess,” she said slowly. “There are no guarantees in life, are there? I suppose we just have to do the best we can. Do what’s in our child’s best interests.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Exactly.”

Belle’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Here’s the car.”

He dug in his pocket for his car keys as they approached the Cadillac, and Belle eyed him as he busied himself opening the door and helping her in. She wondered what he had meant, what his true fears were over becoming a father. Whether he would ever let her in enough to find out.

He remained silent on the drive back to her apartment, and she was unwilling to break it. Gold parked up, glancing across at her.

“Do you mind if I come up?” he asked. “There are a couple of things I’d like to discuss.”

“Okay,” she said. “You can see the nursery. It’s all ready.”

The briefest hint of a smile curved his lips.

“Good.”

The silence between them was still thick and heavy as they took the elevator upwards, and Belle could feel it, like an itch between her shoulder blades as she led him down the corridor to the apartment. Her hand shook a little as she unlocked the door, and she glanced over her shoulder.

“Tea?”

“Thank you.”

Once inside, Belle hurried to the kitchen, putting water on to boil and getting out cups. Gold hadn’t followed her, and she imagined he had gone to check out the nursery. He followed after a few minutes with the hint of a smile in his eyes.

“It looks good,” he said. “You and your friends did a fine job.”

“Many hands, and all that.”

“Yes.” He looked around the kitchen, with its new terracotta walls. “This is nice, too. When you make a decision on the other rooms, just let me know. We can order the colours.”

“Thank you.”

Gold reached into his coat, bringing out a thick envelope folded lengthways and dropping it on the kitchen table.

“The draft of our agreement, and the papers for the property transfer,” he said. “I thought I’d hold off on the appointment with my lawyer until you had a chance to go through them.” 

“Oh, right. Sure.” 

Belle picked up the envelope, sliding out a thick sheaf of papers and dropping them onto the table. She flattened them out, seeing their names in harsh black ink against white paper. Two opposing sides signing a fragile peace treaty that would continue for the next twenty years or more. The thought was exhausting.

“She’s willing to discuss any amendments you might propose,” he went on. “As am I. Within reason.”

“Who decides what’s reasonable?” she asked dryly, flicking through the pages without reading them.

“Given that we’re both adults, I’d like to think we both have a say.” 

His tone matched hers, and it made her want to roll her eyes. The kettle boiled, and Belle dropped the papers on the table, going to pour the water into the teapot. She heard a low click on the floor behind her as Gold took a step closer.

“Did you find a lawyer yet?” he asked, and Belle turned, leaning back against the counter with arms folded.

“No.”

Gold sighed, looking as weary as she felt.

“Look, you really should get your own legal advice,” he said. “It won’t be that expensive, and besides, you should have enough to pay for it now. The money cleared into your account, I presume? The first payment? I made it weekly, as you asked. You’ll get the same this week.”

“Yes, it did,” she said. “Thank you. It’s not that. I guess - well, I guess I haven’t had a chance to think about it.”

“My lawyer will ask the same question when it comes to signing the papers,” he said. “So I suggest you look into that this week. I want this done.”

“Why the hurry?” she asked, baulking at being given what felt like an instruction. “The baby’s not due for over a month.”

“Yes, and babies come early all the time,” he said testily. “I’d really like our agreement to be signed and sealed before that happens. To ensure there are no misunderstandings.”

“You said this was just a formality,” she pointed out, gesturing to the papers, and Gold’s jaw tightened.

“So if you could get some advice and formally sign it, I’d be obliged.”

“You seem awfully keen to give away a valuable apartment.”

“I’m awfully keen to ensure my child has a secure and comfortable home,” he said evenly. “I didn’t realise this was something to cause suspicion on your part.”

“I just know that you never agree to anything that doesn’t benefit you,” she said.

His eyes flashed darkly as he took a step closer, and she felt a lurch in her belly, the first sign of his anger sparking the memory of bruising kisses and frenzied hands.

“Could you please try to put aside your own hurt pride for five fucking minutes and consider that I want what’s best for both you and the child?” he growled. “Everything’s there, in black and white. I am literally telling you to go and seek independent legal advice. Quite how that makes me the villain of the piece I have no idea.”

“I - I didn’t call you a villain...”

“You didn’t have to,” he said coldly. “It’s clear in every look, every glance, every way in which you want me as far away from you as possible. It’s clear in the fact that it took you five months to bloody well tell me I was to be a father. It’s clear that you don’t want me in your life, which means that you don’t want me in our child’s life either.”

“I didn’t say that—” 

“Hear me now, Belle,” he interrupted, raising a finger, “and let me make myself crystal fucking clear. The child is mine, too, and I will have what’s mine. Do you understand?”

Gold could feel his anger simmering, a low-down, burning heat. Belle glared at him, jaw set and blue eyes flashing as she faced him down. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaving. She was magnificent.

“Our child will know its father,” she said stiffly. “I’ll get some legal advice before signing the papers. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he said softly. “So do you think we can dispense with the hostilities?”

“Fine,” she said curtly.

“Fine.”

She turned away, taking cups and saucers to the table and going to the fridge for milk. Gold ran a hand over his face with a deep sigh, letting the tension drain out of him.

“Belle, I don’t want things to be like this,” he said quietly. “I don’t want us to be antagonising each other every time we meet.”

She paused, head down, her shoulders slumped a little.

“No,” she said. “Nor do I.”

She put the milk on the table, turning back for the teapot and setting that down on one of the iron trivets.

“Good,” he said. “In that case, could you please tell me what I need to do to make things better between us?”

“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do,” she muttered, snatching up a cloth and wiping some drops of water from the counter. “It’s not you, anyway, it’s me.”

“Doesn’t that usually mean the exact opposite?”

Belle tossed the cloth into the sink and leaned on the counter with a heavy sigh, arms locked and head down. After a moment she turned, and her jaw was set again, her chin raised.

“I still love you,” she said abruptly. “I probably always will, idiot that I am. But I can’t trust you. And without trust, there’s nothing. You can’t build something if the foundations are rotten.”

The brief spark of joy at hearing that she loved him was almost immediately snuffed out.

“You - you don’t trust me?” he said numbly.

“No.”

There was a moment of silence, and he shook his head.

“But - but I’ve done what you asked,” he said. “When you needed me to come to Boston, I came. When you needed space, I left. The apartment, healthcare, money… Everything you needed, I’ve given you without question. What is it that you don’t trust?”

“You really have to ask me that?” she said flatly.

“Yes!”

Belle put her hands on her hips, raising a brow.

“I worry that one day you’ll get bored,” she said. “That you’ll suddenly decide that fatherhood isn't what you wanted after all, and you’ll leave.”

It was like a blow to the chest. He felt winded, and swallowed hard, his eyes widening

“I would never do that!” he said hoarsely.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice thin. “You did it to me. You picked me up and played with me until you got bored, then you threw me away. I’ll be damned if I’ll let you do that to our child.”

Gold could feel a tide of rage and indignation rise up inside him.

“I would tear apart the world for this baby!” he snapped, gesturing with the flat of his hand.

“It doesn’t need your anger, Alex, it needs your love!” she insisted, lifting her arms and letting them fall. “Are you even capable of showing it any? How do I know you won’t break its heart like you broke mine?”

“Don’t you dare say that!” he spat, anger roughening his voice. “I won’t let you keep my child from me! I can’t do this again! I won’t!”

Belle had opened her mouth angrily, but snapped it shut, looking puzzled.

“Again?” she repeated. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

Gold stared at her, a high-pitched ringing in his ears as panic set in.

“Nothing,” he said immediately. “I just meant - I meant—”

“Why did you say ‘again’?” she persisted, and he stepped back from her, heading for the door.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he said, his hand shaking as he reached for the handle. “I think it’s best if we talk about this some other time.”

“Alex, don’t you dare walk out on me!”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Alexander!”

[howtoearnmoneyonline102]

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[sirkkasnow]

02 Always Take the Nickel Tour

Ao3 link

07/01/13 Monday

Morning dawned with a pleasant chill. Between Stan, Soos and Ford, they got the old station wagon - a sky-blue Ford Fairlane - rolled away from the house and tucked in at a shallow angle next to the Stanleymobile. The S still leaned forlornly against the dented siding. They’d get it hauled up and nailed back into place later.

Stan swept the road-trip debris off the front passenger seat and cracked the glove compartment. He set aside the age-yellowed manual and the service records, most of them crisp and fragile on ancient transfer paper, one new, extensive and computer-printed.

He then flipped through everything else, scanning with an expert eye for items of interest. 

Brand new insurance card in the name of Clara Jane Merrick. A small collection of much older insurance cards in the name of Charles and Caroline Merrick. Vintage pressure gauge, matte black LED flashlight, heavy-framed designer sunglasses, can of pepper spray.

Photograph in a gold-stamped cardboard frame. Stan fished that one out, curious. The photo stock was the old-school linen textured stuff. Three blondes of varying shades grinned back at him, lined up like nesting dolls by age – forties, twenties, preteen – with matching sunhats and huge smiles. The smallest and darkest-haired was instantly recognizable as Clary. She was maybe twelve years old here, a beaky girl still growing into the aquiline nose neither of the others shared. He flexed the frame in one hand, squinting in to read the penned inscription on the photo's back - Carrie, Charlie, Clary.

Stan filed that away for later reference, returned the less-relevant stuff to the glove compartment, then leaned way over along the bench seat to pull the hood release.

The sun had slipped past noon by the time Clary finally emerged from the house, looking far less threadbare than she had the prior night. She was crisply dressed in yesterday’s Bermuda shorts, a fresh button-down shirt and a silk scarf patterned with dragonflies - wrapped twice, snug, knotted off-center at the throat. “Good afternoon, Stan.”

“Hey, Clary. Feelin’ better?” He was elbow-deep in the car’s guts by now, a few unsalvageable bits laid out on an old towel to one side. Grease streaked his forearms. The engine was pretty nice for something near the age of his own wheels, a huge V-8 that had seen very little use. This must have spent most of its life in a garage.

Clary stepped in alongside Stan, peering despondently into the engine compartment. “Sore, but rested, at least. What’s the diagnosis?”

Stan hissed in thought. “Drive belt assembly’s shot, electricals are kind of a mess. Radiator hoses of course. Think the engine block’s okay. The body damage isn’t too bad.”

Clary ran exploring fingers along the battered chrome of the front grill, mouth set in an unhappy line. “Except for the concave hood, I suppose. What can I do to help?”

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“Repair? Not a thing.”

“It’s gonna be a while.” Stan glanced sidelong to study her profile.

“Ford said it may take weeks.” Clary’s tone was conflicted, teeth catching lightly at her lower lip, brow furrowed.

“Ford doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about when it comes to cars, but yeah, he’s not wrong. This thing’s old and the parts are gonna be a pain to scavenge up.” Stan straightened and toweled off his hands. “Orderin’ stuff in would take a while and I know from experience that you don’t always get the right widget through the mail. Might have a couple ideas about local sources…we’ll see. You okay?”

That air of pinched distress was tight around her eyes again. She rolled her shoulders back, looking up and out into the forest. An unhurried breeze set thousands of green-velvet branches into whispering motion. “Okay enough. It’s gorgeous here,” almost as an afterthought.

Stan flicked his gaze heavenwards for a weary moment. Yeah, she’d be staying for the duration. What the hell was it with tourists and pines? “Y’get used to it. Check out the Shack yet?”

“Not yet. I was promised an expert guide.” She stepped away, heading around the back of the wagon to unlatch and hoist down the mountain bike from its rack. A faint residue of reddish dust clung to the tire rims. “Maybe when I’m done unpacking the basics? Since I’m going to be here a few days, there are people who need to know my plans have changed.”

“Thought you were on vacation.”

“Money never sleeps, and unfortunately it’s easy to get some things done on the road.”

She trailed back and forth for a while, parking the bike and hauling a larger duffel bag into the house. Stan worked methodically through the last few items on his engine checklist and jotted down an occasional note. By the time she returned he had a more or less complete catalogue of what needed work. He lowered the badly-dented hood into place and latched it. “Fixin’ this is gonna be an adventure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. Let me know what you need in terms of parts, I can cover whatever – “

Stan ducked his head, stifling the wide flash of his grin behind one hand. “Careful, kid, don’t leave yourself quite that wide open. This is pretty much on Ford anyway so I’ll take most of it out of his hide. C’mon.” Clary paced in his wake, looking up and out across the Shack grounds like she hadn’t bothered before – probably a fair enough assessment after yesterday’s chaos. “So car repair’s not your bag, no shock that. How about arts and crafts? Tall tales? Improv?”

“I’ve had to put on a song-and-dance routine for the IRS a few times. Does that count?”

That startled a laugh out of him. “Depends on whether you pulled it off.”

“I definitely pulled it off. At least no one’s come looking for me yet.”

“Maybe you help me help Soos around the Shack, then, put those tap-dancin’ skills to the test. A favor for a favor.”

Clary frowned at him in puzzlement. “I’m game to try. This is all a bit outside my wheelhouse.”

“Honestly, you could get stuck in way worse places than this. We’ve got tons of stuff for the discernin’ passerby. Merchandise, magic, mystery, uh, mayhem, you get the picture.”

They walked through the house and he held the showroom door open for a moment. Clary peeked through at the flock of tourists trailing after Soos like happy ducklings. “You interested in this kinda stuff?”

“Interested enough to read the bumper sticker. Not enough to actually plan you into my itinerary.”

“Damn shame, that, you’d be missin’ out on the ninth wonder of the world.” He managed to time it in sync with Soos’ patter, the rhythm of the show familiar as breathing, and got a chuckle in return. “They’ll wrap up in a few, we’ll take a quick look at the gift shop until they clear out. Then you get your Founder’s Tour.”

“That’s you, then, not Soos?”

“Got it in one. I built this place from the ground up! Sure, the house was here and the junk was here, but I’m the one who spun it into a wondrous house of mysterious junk.” His hands swept up and out in a marquee arc. Clary gave him that wry, oblique glance he was getting used to.

The gift shop was temporarily abandoned. Stan made himself comfortable leaning against the counter and watched her pace the periphery, trailing careful fingertips over the snow globes. “Take a look around! If you see an impulse buy, make it.”

“I’ll pick out a few things before I go. If I don’t have physical evidence, no one will believe that I was here.” She picked up a snow globe, flipped it over to stir the flakes into motion, then set it down with exaggerated caution and headed for the freezer.

“Just because you’re stayin’ over does not mean you get to sneak in here for an ice pop.” He watched her peer through the glass at their collection of frozen novelties. “This as far out west as you’ve gotten? I mean, we’re off the beaten path and you’re just passin’ through, right? Most folks would’ve taken the main route north of here.”

“This is my fifth state in - “ She frowned, then sighed. “Three days with the overnight, I guess. I’ve been taking it slow and sticking to the state highways, since I’m traveling solo.”

“Long way to drive alone.”

“Yes.” Clary skimmed through the T-shirt rack and plucked out a question mark to hold up against her chest. “You started this place up, then. Can I ask how long you’ve been at it? There’s some history here, I can see that much.”

“Thirty years.” Easier to say now that the long wait was over, that was for sure. He studied her thoughtfully; she was a tough read compared to the usual Gravity Falls crowd. “Can’t say that I ever thought I’d start to enjoy this line of work, originally the idea was just to get the mortgage paid, but go figure. Built a pretty nice business out of tellin’ lies – ‘scuse me, stories.”

A bare sliver of a smile curled along her lips. “You did. I can tell this is a local institution. You’re retired now?”

“More or less. My brother wanted to haul me off on an expedition. Couldn’t say no.” Stan ducked his chin, smiling to himself. “Couldn’t up an’ close the place either, so I left it all to Soos. Been nice to come back and see what he’s made of it, stick my hand in again. You can take the man out of the Mystery Shack, but you can’t take the mystery out of the man, I guess.”

Clary came to rest at the counter next to him, hands empty, he noted. “So I get a rare chance at a tour from the original Mr. Mystery.”

“What, nothin’ here inspires you to drop a wad of cash?”

“I think I’ll make my purchases after I have a functioning car.”

“Fair enough. You’re about to witness a true master in action.” The excited murmur of shopping-primed tourists was beginning to build at the interior door. “We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before the next gaggle rolls through, so you get the short form. Anythin’ specific you want to see?”

They slipped out of the shop as the current group started to trickle in, ducking into the showroom. Stan couldn’t help sweeping an arm out to indicate the entire collection. “Behold, the Mystery Shack!”

Clary appraised the exhibits with cool cynicism. “Which one of these gets the least attention? I’ve always loved the half-hidden displays best.”

She strolled at his side, hands in her pockets, lips twitching now and then as he spun familiar stories. Coaxing a laugh out of her at the right points, a smile here and there, felt like a little victory. There was a customer like this in every tour, the one who’d been dragged along by family or friends. If that one could be won over the rest of the group would be eating out of his hand.

“I have no idea what this is. Must be a Soos addition.” Stan peered at the tiny huts shingled with pine cone scales built into a series of branches suspended from one of the ceilings, glittering with well-concealed LED lights. “All right, the Village of Cannibal Pixies, to whom we’re apparently now rentin’ space in the showroom. They’re out huntin’ their fellow fairies for the rest of the day, but they’ll be back this evenin’ and no doubt throwin’ quite the party, which is just as well, because most of the other fairies ‘round these parts are about as much fun as a root canal….”

She had to bite her lip against a horrified laugh. “I thought these were all your creations?”

“Nah. You’ve gotta keep the mix fresh. Throw in somethin’ new and the tourists will flock through the doors. It’s been almost a year since I got to add a new exhibit, actually.” Stan nudged her in the side with an elbow. “And you are gonna help me put my mark on the place again. Think you’ve soaked up enough inspiration?”

“I’ve soaked up something. Inspiration for what, exactly?” Stan ushered her through another door, one tucked into the shadow of a larger display’s curtain. They wove together through a twisting hallway and he savored her blink of surprise when they emerged a few steps down the hall from the kitchen.

“We’re makin’ another attraction for the showroom.” He’d already laid out most of the basics earlier that morning, with a vague plan towards taking stock and maybe patching some bits and bobs together, but the prospect of testing their new guest’s creative skills – not patience, that’d be rude – was too good to pass up.

The contents of the kitchen table were pauper’s choices, honestly. A handful of pelts, odds and ends left over from birds long since parted out for other projects, a couple of smaller skulls, coils of heavy aluminum wire for armatures. Clary sifted through the remnants with a careful hand and a dubious expression.

“Surprise me.” He dropped off a tack hammer and a few brads on his way past. She made a faint incredulous noise, her head swiveling to follow, and Stan shot her a flat look of challenge: Show me what you’ve got, bean-counter.

Her shoulders stiffened, and she settled cautiously into one of the kitchen chairs. “Pliers?”

“Toolbox under the table.”

The toolbox jangled heavily as she hauled it up into easy reach. He tuned out the low noise of her work for a while. His own projects kept him plenty busy – sprucing up the display cards for a couple of the new oddities Soos had incorporated, reviewing the merch inventory and a couple of new concepts, moving on with a hum of pleasure to update the current supply list for the Stan O’War.

It was the better part of an hour before he heard the chair scrape back. “Tinfoil?” Clary asked.

“Two drawers over from the fridge.”

A few clunks and a crinkle, then he heard her muttering spoon, spoon under her breath, clattering through the silverware drawer. She paced back over to the table and dragged the chair back in with a shallow sigh. Stan glanced over and saw her hunched over an armature, brow creased as she padded out the shape.

“You all right over there?” He was trying not to laugh. This was not the kind of focus he’d been expecting.

“Flashbacks to high school art class, nothing too traumatic, I promise.”

This went on for a while. Stan drifted out of the kitchen to track down one of the Shack ledgers and his last box of spare critter bits, which he set wordlessly at her elbow. She ransacked the contents and didn’t look up when she spoke. “Putty?” He rattled through a drawer and dropped off half a jumbo packet of the plumber’s two-part type on the table, which Clary pulled in and unwrapped.

It was well past five when something mostly complete sat before her. She had come up with a compact little mustelid nightmare, something weaselish in build with elaborate grasping talons pieced together from every sharp claw remaining amid the sorry leftovers he’d dumped out of his dwindling box of tricks. Wings scavenged from a sharp-shinned hawk he’d collected on some roadside ages ago were anchored in half-furled at the shoulders. The mink skull had been carefully if inexpertly re-skinned. Brow ridges and tiny, twisting horns sculpted out of plumber’s putty crowned the toothy head.

The thing was cute in an amateur way. He thought, bemused, that it might make a decent plush toy.

Clary flipped the critter over, features creased in complete concentration as she stitched in the last bits along the belly. “Got any paint?”

Stan folded his arms, trying and failing to suppress a grin. “Y’know, normally I’d just patch together bits from a fish, a squirrel and a chicken, and call it good.”

“Hell with that, we’ve got tourists to impress.” Clary hissed under her breath as she stabbed herself with the needle. When she finally stretched, he heard her neck pop and saw the wince. “What time is it anyway?”

“Half past time to pack it in, kid.”

She sat up straight in surprise, glancing out the window into the saturated deep-golden light of late, late afternoon. “Oh no.”

Stan tilted his thumb her way, letting the grin widen. “So I think you might be on the hook for pizza tonight. Seein’ as how you’ve been dead to the world for hours and we’d be goin’ with cereal otherwise.”

An indignant pause hung in the air as her brows rose sharply. “There’s still plenty of time for me to call my insurance company. I might well have whiplash. Those old-school bench seats with no headrest are infamous for that.”

He slung a dirty look over his shoulder as he retrieved the paintbox from a cupboard. “Ford said you were fine.”

“I don’t think I heard him mention a medical degree in that list he rattled off.”

“All right, fine, we’ll split pizza for the gang.” Her eyes narrowed to calculating slits. “Lady, you drive a hard bargain. Howsabout you tell me what this thing is and then we’ll talk.” Stan opened the paintbox and sorted through half-empty tubes of acrylics. “You know how to drybrush?”

“Nope.” Clary studied her spiky-clawed creation, somewhat at a loss. “Let me mull this over a moment….”

“It helps to have some idea what you’re doin’ before you start stitchin’ things together, y’know.” Stan picked out a dark chocolate brown and laid down a quick basecoat on the horns. “You’ve outfoxed the IRS? Then all you gotta do is think on your feet.”

There was a brief quiet. The weight of her gaze lingered on him as he dipped into a deep purple and started shading along the inner edge of the brow ridge.

“This is the lesser Northwestern horned hawkweasel,” she said at length, adopting the deep, plummy tone of a nature-documentary narrator. “Or the midnight mink. Fierce far out of proportion to their size, these crafty, fearless creatures feed mainly on fish and whatever birds they can catch. Usually solitary, as the moon wanes they gather up in gangs to hunt their favored prey – nightmares. The bigger, the better.”

“Where’s a winged weasel gonna find nightmares in the depths of the Cascades?” Stan plucked out a liner brush and limned the eyes with a perfect pinstripe of metallic teal.

“Everything that can think has dreams. These little fellas like the blackest, bleakest ones they can find, and some of the denizens of these forests have deep and terrible dreams. If not for these guys, some of those denizens might wake up.”

Stan snorted in soft amusement as he laid highlights in along the horns. “Not terrible for a first shot. Soos might dig the idea, and hell, at least Lovecraft’s long since out of copyright, yeah?” He sat back, assessing, then touched on a last few dots of color. “This is about as show-ready as it’s gonna get. Hang on a sec.”

He toted the not-quite-weasel down to the office, setting it on the least cluttered file cabinet for later – it was going to need a story card at the very least – then swung by the deserted gift shop, cracking the vending machine open to fish out a couple of ice-cold Pitts. Clary was packing away tools by the time he returned to the kitchen, and he set a can within easy reach. “Nothin’ like a cold one to finish up the day. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She picked up her can, popped it, then tapped its edge against his. “I’ve got to wonder.” He eyed her, momentarily wary, as he dropped into his own chair. “What possessed a man from New Jersey to land way out here in the hinterlands of Oregon? It’s certainly pretty, but this is about as close to the absolute middle of nowhere as I’ve ever been.”

“You actually interested in me? Or do you ask everyone these kinda questions?”

“I’m mainly interested in you.”

That was a bit of a surprise. A chuckle snagged in Stan’s chest as he met her frank regard. “Usually the longest I can get people to listen to me is when I’m sellin’ somethin’, and even then it’s tough luck.”

“I don’t buy that for a second.” The faint curve of her smile was half obscured by the rim of her soda can. “No way you kept this place running for so long without knowing how to string an audience along in suspense.”

“It’s, ah, it’s a knack. I’ve been good at it ever since I was a kid.” He cleared his throat and took a lingering sip, buying a moment. Her brows quirked in expectation. “So, you’re serious?”

“How long do you plan on leaving me in suspense?”

“The last time someone started askin’ personal questions, she tried to eat me,” Stan muttered. “Can you imagine? I’m practically skin and bones.”

That bought him a sharp laugh, right on the beat. “Come on. You can’t just leave it there.”

Stan took a long look at her, then drew breath, fired up the cockiest grin in his repertoire, and launched in. “So, y’see, there’s this irresistible thing called ‘revenge’….”

Clary was a good listener and a better interrogator, absorbing whatever outrageous half-truth he had to offer without scoffing, pressing with well-targeted questions at every opportunity. Every time she cut close to the bone he’d flash her something shiny to distract. Verbal sleight-of-hand was so second nature by now that he barely noticed doing it. Stan couldn’t tell how much of it she was buying, which was disconcerting as hell.

In the end he paid for the pizza. She slipped in behind him to press an overgenerous tip into the delivery driver’s hand.

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There are plenty of repair records in the glove box, the old manual, and some other potentially interesting odds and ends.

Just take the repair records and the manual.

Go through all the personal paperwork.

Is there any money in there?

[dancal13]

Day 2 – So Much Music, So Much Wine

Quick Disclaimer:  Suzy and I both love live music, which is awesome as music has always meant a lot to me. And now Jack, Bailey and Megan are all into music - so I am still learning about and loving new music, while keeping up with past favorites.  But I have grown to hate large crowds (might even be a phobia for the small-minded person - meaning me).  So, we pay attention to all the small venues in Seattle and see a lot of up and coming bands as well as lot of bands that are past their prime.  Pretty cool on the whole, but what we miss out on is the big tours, the bands in the their prime, for example U2’s most recent stadium tour. Not a chance that I would go to that even though I love U2.  But Susan is clever and not one to give up on something she wants to do.  As I mentioned in the Prologue a couple of years ago our friends the Wilbur’s mentioned BottleRock and Susan had her in. Combining and weaving my love for music with my addiction and love for red wine into her sales pitch. The opportunity to see the Red Hot Chile Peppers (never seen by me) and hang in Napa Valley. I was low hanging fruit. (Sorry not such quick disclaimer after all)

And here we are…

We woke up Sunday morning to a chill and the threat of rain and thunder (could be song lyrics).  Much different than our previous visits, where our fears mostly included sunburn and 100-degree weather.  No rain gear, no worries – Susan doesn’t believe in General Admission, that is so bourgeois.  We are VIP Baby and VIP gets you shelter, nice bathrooms, shorter food and drink lines and an obvious sense of superiority.  This of course could easily be disproved, but it’s our story, so stick it. Our friends the Robbs (Jill and John) flew in early that morning and met us for breakfast prior to rocking out.  As true festival goers our breakfast included eggs benedict, smoked salmon-arugula-egg flatbread, Belgium waffles with fresh a bananas and a ham-gruyere omelet, obviously the breakfast of music rebels everywhere.

From there we dropped off the muscle car, its head banging purpose complete and left for the festival.  As we arrived the clouds opened, and we again questioned our attire. We watched in utter horror as umbrellas were collected at the gate and tossed into waiting garbage cans - NOT ALLOWED.  But we were quickly reminded who we were. 

We were VIP and loving every minute of it.  First Stop, I know hard to guess, the bar and wait, you guessed it a covered area looking over the main stage. We would never be anything but damp again as each big stage had a covered area waiting for us.

We had been here before, the covered area previously acted as shade, apparently it can serve two purposes. With wine and cocktails in hand we quickly worked our strategy.  In the two years since we had last attended there were some improvements to VIP. The first being that they had set aside a huge portion of the field in front of the stage for those of us who wanted to see the performers up close.  More on that later.

We headed back to the food and drink areas set aside for our elite status, which included some pretty awesome restaurants and drink options and an acoustic lounge, that featured performers who were finished with their sets or still yet to perform.  These quick and intimate performances lasted about 4 to 6 songs, with a much smaller crowd, maybe a 150 people at its largest. Pretty cool. Just a quick note: though we didn’t take advantage of this (or get taken advantage of by this) there was a booth selling very high-end CUPS of wines.  I wish I would have taken a picture of the menu for posterity.  You could get a small “plastic cup” of Joseph Phelps Insignia for a mere $72. It is here where we were quickly reminded that though we were VIP Special, we were way, way less special than the VIP Platinum attendees.

After some food and drink and an acoustic set or two, we ventured out to the main stage to see Skylar Grey. My only knowledge of her was when we received the first set of promotional materials and I was scrolling through the various artists; I was stopped by the picture of her legs.  See the accompanying picture 😊. Apparently, she is a singer songwriter known more for songs that she has written for more famous artists, she is also currently a local of Napa and a big fan of wine, maybe we will hangout some time.  The first song performed was a song she wrote for Puff Daddy, P Diddy or whatever his current name is.  She had a fantastic voice, tons of tats, and yes great legs.

We stayed for 4 or 5 songs, grabbed some fun pictures, and text-taunted our friends the Wilbur’s who went for multiple days and did GA, while hosting one of their daughter, a nephew and other young friends (as mentioned, VIP access got us pretty close to the stage)

Next stop the Firefox stage to see Gang of Youths.  If you have been to a music festival, typically you will come across a band you do not know, know only one song, or maybe know a few and their performance far exceeds your expectations - You are now a fan!  In the past I have had that reaction to Coleman Hell, New Politics, Odesza – this year it was Gang of Youths, sorry for the bad pic, I have video, but not quite sure how to embed.  They were rockers from Australia, and the lead singer and guitarist looked like Jon Snow from Game of Thrones, so Suzy enjoyed them as well. Hmmmm… GoY vs GoT coincidence?  I think not.

I was also able to capture this image during GoY, of the GA crowd behind me and my cup of cabernet.  I almost felt sad for their existence. Then I took another sip of cabernet, enjoyed the music and all was forgotten.

We headed to the third of four stages to see the Teskey Bros, a blues band that Susan had become a fan of, but finally bumped into our friends Brian and Anne, pictured below drinking Frozés (yup rosé slushies) 

and then stopped nearby for a quick visit to the Silent Disco.  A huge dance floor where everyone is provided a set of headphones that are channeling 2 or 3 different DJs.  Pretty funny to watch a bunch of people dancing together but to different music. On a channel that I wasn’t on, Don’t Stop Believing, by Journey was playing.  Half of the audience/dancers were singing along and singing so loud that I couldn’t hear my headphones, it was time to go.

The Teskey brothers were good and we stayed for most of their set.  We then made our way back to the main stage, the acoustic lounge and the food and beverage area in time for the evening set.  This is where my funny wife stepped up.  After getting an unsatisfactory pour of bubbles while I was receiving an abundant one, she decided to watch me during my next order.  Again, I received above the line pours for both our drinks.  Susan screamed; you are flirting with the guy working the bar.  And then again yelled that I was flirting with the girl during our next stop. Obviously these days I don’t believe in gender labeling (thanks Megan for you guidance), so I just went about my business of flirting, I know right – I AM SO WOKE.  The entertainment ensued from there as Suzy started making friends with people who had arrived early enough for seats, or spaces at the rails or just looked fun. After hanging a while with Suz, they would then offer their spaces to her as they left – by the end of the day we each had a role… Flirty WOKE Guy and Friendly “Who’s Your Buddy” Girl a match made in rock and roll festival heaven

Evening set: First up was Michael Franti and Spearhead.  Seems like he performs every year at Bottlerock, and I’m not sure anyone has a better time doing so.  We were near the stage, but when Michael Franti performs, that means you only get to see him up close for half the time.  He is a bare foot performer who likes to wander out and sing in the crowd, and he does it well. This was the first performance we stayed at for the entire set.

It was nearly 8:30 now and our backs and legs were nearly spent, but the headliner “Mumford and Sons” took the stage.  I’m a big fan of their music but was still surprised and awed by their performance. It was a bit harder than I expected, and they performed with so much energy it was great.  I will find a way to see them again, probably multiple times.

It was a long day, and I was sore for a few days after standing and dancing for nearly ten hours. I’m am not interested in attending other festivals like Coachella, likely because they are not in Wine Country. I know snobbery right?

One insight I would like to share. If you are attending something like this and using a bankcard for drinks, check ahead of time with your bank, as we found out the hard way, that it looks suspicious if you make a bunch of small purchases in a day (food and drinks), in another state. The bank can and will freeze your card until the next day, or until you call them. The good news or easy solution is to carry cash or a second card.  Learn from our mistakes.  

[artificialqueens]

Exercise in folly 2.0 - Chapter 2.1 (Craquaria) - SamWhity

Title: Exercise in Folly 2.0

Summary: Monét looked at her with disbelief, before sighing: “Giovanni never saw the damn video. He dodged the whole thing like a pro because he was trying to be your friend”. “He’s my friend”. Cracker’s answer came without any hesitation, so natural and passionate that the other queen smiled softly. “Cracks…” Summary of the chapter: Maxwell tries again and receives an unexpected answer. Giovanni sulks and Kevin and Nicola are the best friends we all should wish for. Author’s note: Even though Aquaria and Jordan Stawecki seem to be friendly with eachother again, I decided to have them still un-reconciled for the time being. Everything you will read about this moment in time and the so-called drama should be furthermore considered purely fictional and nothing that is portrayed here has any legitimacy.

Chapter one

You keep me up at night To my messages, you do not reply You know I still like you the most The best of the best and the worst of the worst Well, you can never know The places that I go I still like you the most You’ll always be my favorite ghost

(Florence + The Machine, Big God)

Even though he deeply enjoyed touring with others queens, Maxwell Heller couldn’t help himself from sighing contently while putting down his luggage in the entrance of his apartment.

“Home sweet home”, he mumbled with a smile, before closing the door behind him.

“Coffee?”, Kathelyn asked while making her way to the kitchen.

“Of course”, the man answered, then he picked up one suitcase and started unpacking the gifts and fanarts he received on the road.

Just as he started reading a very long letter, his phone vibrated.

Monét X-Change, 2:34 pm: Got home safe?

Monét X-Change, 2:34 pm: We’re having dinner at mine, with Dustin and Yuhua. You coming?

Monét X-Change, 2:35 pm: I’ll ask Giovanni as well, but only the Lord knows what is up with that twink nowadays…

Monét X-Change, 2:35 pm: You coming, right?

Monét X-Change, 2:36 pm: Come on Cracks, answer already!

Maxwell chuckled, clearly amused by his friend’s lack of patience, before typing a short answer.

Miz Cracker, 2:37 pm: All right, all right. I’ll be there.

Monét X-Change, 2:38 pm: Perfect! Bring Kathelyn with you, it will be fun!

“What are you laughing at?”, his best friend asked, while handing him a mug full of steaming coffee.

“Kevin is being ridiculous as usual”, he explained, before taking a sip of the beverage and wincing in pain “Shit! That was really hot!”.

Kathelyn rolled her eyes, before going to her bedroom and starting to unpack.

“I’ll see a couple of friends tonight, don’t wait for me”, she said, while folding a shirt.

Maxwell nodded, then he added: “I’ll be at Kevin’s for dinner, don’t worry”.

The scoff he received as an answer was followed by a quick: “Well now I’m worried. Don’t get into any trouble, Mister”.

The look she received as an answer was enough to make her giggle.

“I love you too”, she conceded with a soft smile, then she closed the door behind her.

Kathelyn, 2:43 pm: I’m serious. We don’t have enough money to pay bail yet.

Kathelyn, 2:43 pm: Can you imagine? Okay, Kathelyn, time for slob.

Kathelyn, 2:44 pm: You have to admit that it was pretty funny.

Kathelyn, 2:44 pm: Right?

Kathelyn, 2:44 pm: RIGHT?!

Maxwell, 2:45 pm: I was waiting for you to finish your little piece…

Kathelyn, 2:45 pm: Don’t be so salty… :P

Maxwell, 2:46 pm: I will call in intervention, if you don’t stop

Maxwell, 2:47 pm: I’ve warned you

Kathelyn, 2:47 pm: You’re no fun…

After a couple of minutes, Maxwell’s phone vibrated once again, making him snort.

Kathelyn, 2:52 pm: You have to admit it. It’s time for slob was HILARIOUS.

***

Nicola, 2:43 pm: I just received the upteenth video of “Viva Las Vegas”. Please send help.

Giovanni Palandrani, barely awake but already in a weird mood, chuckled at his phone. With a little smile on his lips, he typed an answer.

Giovanni, 2:44 pm: Oh, poor you. Do you want me to send you “New York, New York”, just to switch it up a little bit?

The answer he got made him giggle stupidly.

Nicola, 2:45 pm: Do not even dare, kid! Otherwise I will personally ask Gaga to strike you from her beloved list of the most loyal fans!

Nicola, 2:45 pm: Where has the respect for the elders gone?

Nicola, 2:46 pm: Not that I’m old.

Nicola, 2:46 pm: Because I am certainly not old, understood?

Giovanni’s smile grew bigger. He quickly replied, before making his way to the balcony of the hotel room.

Giovanni, 2:47 pm: I would never imply you are old. I will just state that Shaquida was still going to daycare, while you were already driving one of those ugly tanks you like so much.

Giovanni, 2:48 pm: To quote Bob the Drag Queen, Nicola Formichetti is so old, he would probably die the moment he decided to act his age.

He did not receive any kind of answer for a couple of minutes and the lack of response made him worry he took it too far. Why was he always taking it too far?

“Goddamn it, Giovanni”, he murmured, before typing quickly.

Giovanni, 2:51 pm: It was totally inappropriate, I am so sorry! I should have just shut up.

Giovanni, 2:51 pm: Sorry, I am just in a weird mood. I am so so sorry…

Giovanni, 2:52 pm: I understand if you’re mad now but please know I really did not mean it in a disrespectful way.

The answer he got made him snort his water and sigh with relief at the same time.

Nicola, 2:54 pm: RELAX, I was just busy. I know how to roll with the punches kid… ;)

“You bastard”, he whispered, before answering.

Giovanni, 2:55 pm: Busy recording yourself playing the piano? Charming… :P

Nicola, 2:55 pm: Can we please go back to the apology? I liked you way better when you were sincerely apologizing…

Giovanni started laughing, before realising someone knocked at his hotel door.

“It’s open”, he said.

One of the hotel’s butlers was standing in front of the door, looking at him composedly, his hands hidden behind his back.

“The car will be here in less than forty minutes, sir”, he announced, before handing him a bouquet of flowers and adding: “Someone left this for you at the counter, today”.

The young man thanked him, before closing the door behind him and starting to gather his suitcases. He could do it even without Jordan, he thought to himself.

He put the bouquet on top of his carry-on, before picking the card and reading it out loud.

“To Aquaria. Thanks for the most amazing show I could possibly wish for. You are one of the best performers I had the pleasure to witness and I can’t wait to see you again, slaying on stage. Xoxo”

The boy smiled, before taking a picture of the sweet gift and uploading it to his Instastories with the caption “Blessed” and a smiling kitty.

In that exact moment, his phone vibrated again.

Monét X-Change, 3:04 pm: We’re having dinner at mine today! You’re in right?

He smiled, excited at the idea of seeing Kevin, before realizing he could not possibly make it to New York on time and sighing.

Aquaria, 3:04 pm: I wish! I’ll be back later tonight :(

Aquaria, 3:05 pm: You can feed me leftovers for brunch tomorrow, if you’re free. :D

Monét X-Change 3:05 pm: Lunch at mine and it’s a date. ;)

Aquaria, 3:06 pm: Now that took a turn…

Monét X-Change, 3:06 pm: You bitch!!!

Monét X-Change, 3:06 pm: You only wish…

A quick glance at his watch made him realize his ride would have arrived in a couple of minutes. He put his bags on the trolley he got from the reception and made his way to the elevator.

“You can make it, see?”, he murmured to himself, trying to avoid thinking about the whole drama around Jordan and his sudden interest in Los Angeles.

Once in the elevator, he found another text.

Miz Cracker, 3:12 pm: Are you coming to Monét’s?

He quickly left the message on read, before going back to the other one and trying to come up with a silly if not funny answer.

Aquaria, 3:12 pm: Last time I checked, I already gave to charity. Like a ton. Maybe next year you’ll be luckier ;)

“Weak”, he murmured to himself, before exiting the elevator and waiting for the car in the lobby of the hotel.

His phone vibrated again.

Miz Cracker, 3:14 pm: Are you purposefully ignoring me?

Miz Cracker, 3:14 pm: If you do not feel like talking it’s fine, just stop leaving me on read.

Miz Cracker, 3:15 pm: For real, Giovanni.

With a sigh, Giovanni locked the screen and saw the car approaching. He exited the building, put his sunglasses on and smiled at the driver, who then proceeded to load the suitcases in the trunk. He sat in the back-seat and put on his headphones, trying to come up with an answer for Cracker as well. Nothing. His phone vibrated once again.

Monét X-Change, 3:22 pm: You little sly bitch…

Monét X-Change, 3:22 pm: Have you talked to Cracks, btw?

Monét X-Change, 3:23 pm: And don’t you even dare to play dumb. You know better.

“Shit”, Giovanni murmured, before biting his lower lip and typing a couple of words.

Aquaria, 3:24 pm: I don’t know what to say.

Monét X-Change, 3:25 pm: Kid… just tell him how you felt while watching that video.

Aquaria, 3:25 pm: It’s not that.

Aquaria, 3:25 pm: It’s a lot more than that and I do not know how to react. And fucking everything around me is crumbling…

Monét X-Change, 3:26 pm: I heard about Jordan. I’m sorry, baby.

Aquaria, 3:26 pm: Can we please not talk about it now? I don’t really feel like crying in a taxi…

Monét X-Change, 3:27 pm: Of course, baby. Of course. I will see you tomorrow okay? Come at around one and we’ll have a kiki.

Aquaria, 3:27 pm: Thank you, Kevin. :*

“We’re here”, the driver pulled over, before exiting and starting to look for a cart to put Giovanni’s luggage on.

The young man exited the car as well, then took his bag and thanked the driver with a polite smile.

“Keep the change”, he said, while handing him some cash.

He quickly entered the airport and deposited his suitcases, before heading to the lounge and helping himself with a glass of juice.With a sigh, he took his phone out of his bag and tried to come up with a reply for Maxwell.

Nothing. Again.

The screen lit up for a quick second.

Nicola, 3:51 pm: Already at the airport? How are you feeling?

He bit his lower lip, before answering.

Giovanni, 3:52 pm: Honestly? I don’t know… I have so many things on my mind and I can’t stop thinking about other things and all this thinking is making me crazy.

“Way to go, Giovanni. You really have a way with words”, he sneered, after reading the message once again.

Nicola, 3:52 pm: Care to untuck? (See what I did there?)

Giovanni smiled at the attempt at making him laugh, before typing further.

Aquaria, 3:53 pm: I do not know where to begin, honestly… there is so much going on and I have so little control over how things are going…

Nicola, 3:54 pm: I will take an educated guess and say it has little to do with the lack of creativity in your current work, right?

Nicola, 3:54 pm: And before you start, your work is still fucking incredible.

Nicola, 3:55 pm: But I’ve known you long enough, kid…

The young man sighed, before answering.

Giovanni, 3:56 pm: I am in a weird place, right now. After all this drama about Jordan and people assuming I treated him like a fucking slave, I had to sit and watch that video. And it stung more than I could ever predict.

Giovanni quickly realized he was close to tears and decided to put his sunglasses back on, just to prevent a scene.

The other man’s answer was concise.

Nicola, 3:58 pm: Tell him

Nicola, 3:58 pm: Tell him that it hurt and maybe you can sort this shit out

Giovanni, 3:59 pm: Maybe

Nicola, 4:00 pm: Listen, I’ll be in NYC tomorrow afternoon. Sushi at mine?

Giovanni smiled: the care that man had for him was something he was incredibly grateful for, even if he could not quite figure out why the older one was caring so much. He quickly typed an answer.

Giovanni, 4:01 pm: I could use some sushi for dinner tomorrow, actually

Nicola, 4:01 pm: Then it’s a date! Let’s say at 9 PM?

Giovanni, 4:02 pm: That sounds perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Nicola, 4:03 pm: See you tomorrow, kid. Be safe xoxo

When his flight was announced, the young man got up quickly and made his way towards the gate. Once seated, he closed his eyes and slowly fell asleep.

***

“Guess who’s back in da house!”.

Kevin welcomed him with a solid hug and a warm smile. Maxwell entered the apartment, hung is coat and made his way to the kitchen, where Yuhua and Dustin were chatting sipping on some cheap wine.

“Hi guys”, he smiled and took a couple of steps forward to hug the both of them.

Yuhua hugged him back, with a big smile.

“How have you been, girl?”, the queen asked, before making space for Dustin to hug him too.

Max hugged the friend back, before answering: “Good. Busy but I can’t complain”.

They quickly sat at the table, waiting for the food to be delivered.

“Has someone heard from Giovanni?”, Dustin asked, while sipping on his glass of wine.

Kevin raised his glass, nodding.

“I did. He’s not home until later tonight”, he explained, then he added: “I will meet with him tomorrow, to see how he’s doing and stuff”.

Yuhua raised an eyebrow.

“Stuff?”.

In that exact moment, Maxwell chocked on his glass of soda and started coughing, causing Dustin to laugh manically.

“You bitch!”, Kevin laughed, patting his best friend on the back in order to prevent him from choking any further, “I want to see how he’s doing, what he’s up to and this kind of things. I also have yet to give him my Christmas present”, he said with a proud smile.

The sound of the doorbell interrupted the conversation and the host stood up to go take the food and pay.

“I’ll be right back, ladies”.

After a couple of minutes, they were sitting in front of a plethora of boxes and paper bags full of Thai food.

“You really went all out”, Yuhua looked at the food with disbelief, before adding: “Are you sure you don’t need anything from us?”.

Kevin pinched his friend, before opening a container and smiling at the sight of the steaming hot curry inside it.

“I just thought it would be nice to spend time all together again”, he said before pausing and adding: “Well, without Giovanni… but you know what I mean”.

The others nodded, before starting to eat.

***

Finally in his apartment, Giovanni left the suitcases in the hallway and sighed.

“Home sweet home”, he murmured, before switching the light on and deciding he might as well turn the heating on and warm up the rooms a little bit.

His phone vibrated, making him jump.

Jordan, 00:17 am: In February I will be gone.

Jordan, 00:17 am: Just letting you know.

The young man bit his lower lip, before typing a quick answer.

Giovanni, 00:18 am: Thank you for letting me know.

He put his phone back in his pocket, then he went to his room and opened a drawer, taking out a small plastic bag. He rolled himself a joint and went to smoke it on the balcony, trying to clear his head.

“Shit”, he murmured, before closing his eyes and sighing.

He did not know what to do, let alone how to react to Jordan’s antics any more. After the whole fiasco in London, he had absolutely no idea how to go further without ruining their friendship. When the management stepped in, he had no other options than to fire him and the expression in his eyes was one of defiance and cockiness he had never seen before.

“As if you would survive a day without me”, Jordan sneered, before collecting his jacket and leaving the room.

Giovanni took his phone out of his jacket, hoping Nicola would be awake and willing to listen to him vent.

Aquaria, 00:23 am: I am currently sitting on the staircase outside and all I can think about is how many friendships I’ve fucked up. It’s making me slowly insane and paranoid and so unsure of myself it is almost disgusting. I don’t recognise this part of me and it scares me, I don’t know how to react to Maxwell’s messages or to Jordan’s rage and it is making me go crazy.

He sent the message without checking the name of the receiver. Needless to say, just because karma and faith every once in a while love to play tricks on people, he sent it to Maxwell instead without realizing the mistake he made.

He locked the screen, finished his joint and headed to the bathroom to have a shower, blissfully unaware of what just happened.

***

Maxwell’s phone vibrated, making the man jump slightly.

“Everything allright, Cracks?”, Kevin asked, before looking at him quizzically.

The other man nodded.

“It’s just my phone, Kathelyn must have gotten home or something”, he replied, before taking his phone out of his pocket.

The message he got was definitely not from Kathelyn.

Aquaria, 00:23 am: I am currently sitting on the staircase outside and all I can think about is how many friendships I’ve fucked up. It’s making me slowly insane and paranoid and so unsure of myself it is almost disgusting. I don’t recognise this part of me and it scares me, I don’t know how to react to Maxwell’s messages or to Jordan’s rage and it is making me go crazy.

Needless to say, the man barely managed to whisper a confused: “What…?”, before signalling to his best friend to join him on the balcony.

Once the door behind them was closed, much to Yuhua and Dustin’s disappointment, the younger man was presented with the other one’s phone.

“What is happening, Max?”, he then asked.

“Read it”, Maxwell said, sighing.

Kevin read everything twice, before looking at his friend with concern in his eyes.

“I reckon it wasn’t for me either”, he then commented, trying to lighten up the mood and failing miserably at it.

Max sat on the floor, before closing his eyes and murmuring: “What should I do?”.

The other one shrugged, before joining him on the floor and giving him his phone back.

“Well, now at least you know he’s not mad or something…”, he murmured, trying to sound comforting, “I’ll see him tomorrow and maybe I can try…”.

“No, I don’t think it’s a good idea”, the other one interrupted him, “I don’t want him to feel trapped or some shit”.

Kevin nodded.

“Yeah, it makes sense”, he mumbled, before getting up: “Let’s go and see what the others are doing. I will keep you posted tomorrow, okay?”.

Maxwell nodded, then he got up as well and squeezed his friend’s hand.

“Thank you”.

[tipsintrips-blog]

61 Travel Tips to Make You the World’s Savviest Traveler

Updated: 8/01/18 | August 1st, 2018

Most people aren’t born savvy travelers. It’s something that only comes with on-the-road experience. In the beginning, you make a lot of mistakes. Travel savviness is a process born of missed buses, foolish behavior, cultural unawareness, and countless tiny errors. Then, one day, you begin to seamlessly move through airports and integrate yourself into new cultures like a fish to water.

I want to help speed up the process and help you avoid my mistakes (and I often make a lot of them), so I put together this giant list of 61 travel tips that cover everything under the sun to help you reach your full travel ninja potential:

1- Always pack a towel

It’s the key to successful galactic hitchhiking and plain common sense. You never know when you will need it, whether it’s at the beach, on a picnic, or just to dry off. While many hostels offer towels, you never know and carrying a small towel won’t add that much weight to your bag.

2- Buy a small backpack/suitcase

By purchasing a small backpack (I like something around 35/40 liters), you will be forced you to pack light and avoid carrying too much stuff. Humans have a natural tendency to want to fill space so if you pack light but have lots of extra room in your bag, you’ll end up going “well, I guess I can take more” and then regret it.

3- Pack light

It’s OK to wear the same t-shirt a few days in a row. Take half the clothes you think you will need…you won’t need as much as you think. Write down a list of essentials, cut it in half, and then only pack that! Plus, since you bought a small backpack like I said, you won’t have much room for extra stuff anyways!

4- But take extra socks

You’ll lose a bunch to laundry gremlins, wear and tear, and hiking so packing extra will come in handy. I only take a few more than I need. Nothing beats a fresh pair of socks!

5- Take an extra bank card and credit card with you

Disasters happen. It’s always good to have a backup in case you get robbed or lose a card. You don’t want to be stuck somewhere new without access to your funds. I once had a card duplicated and a freeze put on it. I couldn’t use it for the rest of my trip. I was very happy I had an extra and not like my friend, who didn’t and was forced to borrow money from me all the time!

6- Make sure to use no-fee bank cards

Don’t give banks your hard-earned money. Keep that for yourself and spend it on your travels. Get a credit card and debit card that doesn’t charge a foreign transaction fee or an ATM fee. Over the course of a long trip, the few dollars they take every time will really add up!

7- Travel by yourself at least once

You’ll learn a lot about yourself and how to become independent. It’s a cliché, but it’s true. Traveling solo taught me how to fend for myself, talk to people, and handle unfamiliar situations with ease. It’s made me comfortable with myself, helped me learn about what I’m capable of, and allowed me to be super selfish and do whatever I want! It can take some getting used to if you’ve never done it before but do it at least once. Make yourself uncomfortable and surprise yourself. You’ll learn valuable life skills when you push yourself!

8- Don’t be afraid to use a map.

Looking like a tourist isn’t as bad as getting really lost and ending up in the wrong neighborhood. Don’t be afraid to use a map or ask for directions and look like a tourist. After all, you are one! I always use a map when I travel. It helps you get to where you need to go!

9- But don’t be afraid to get purposefully lost.

Wandering aimlessly through a new city is a good way to get to know it, get off the beaten path, and away from the tourists. You might be surprised by the hidden gems you find. I like to wander around and try to find my way without using Google Maps!

10- Always visit the local tourism office.

They know about everything going on in town. They can point you to free activities, special events happening during your stay, and everything in between. They even offer discounts on attractions and transportation. It is their job to help you experience the destination better. It’s amazing how many travelers skip this when they are visiting somewhere but, as a savvy traveler, you know to use this resource!

11- Don’t buy a money belt — they’re stupid.

Thieves know they exist and being seen with one basically shouts, “Look at me, I’m a tourist with money! Rip me off!” The more you can blend in and act like a local, the easier it will be to get deals and avoid touts. If you’re worried about pickpockets, keep a better eye on your stuff!

12- When you go out, take only what you need.

Limit the amount of cash and bank cards you carry with you, so if something does happen, you can easily recover. Never take more than one credit card or ATM card with you. My rule for cash is to limit what I carry to $50 USD.

13- Always carry a lock.

They come in handy, especially when you stay in dorms and need to lock your stuff up. Carry a small combination lock with you when you travel. Don’t use one with keys because, if you lose the keys, you’re screwed!

14- Make extra copies of your passport and important documents.

Don’t forget to e-mail a copy to yourself too. You never know when you might need to have some sort of documentation with you and might not want to carry your original. Additionally, if your passport gets stolen having a copy will come in handy for your police report.

15- Ask hostel staff for information — even when you aren’t staying there.

Hostel staff deal with budget travelers all day, every day. They know exactly where to go for cheap meals and attractions. They also tend to be locals so they know the city very well. Ask them for all sorts of information. Even if you aren’t staying in one, just pop in and ask for help. They’ll usually give it.

16- Learn basic phrases in the native language of your destination

The locals will appreciate it and it will make your interactions easier. You don’t need to master the language but learning a few things like “Hello,” “Goodbye,” “Thank you!”, “Where’s the bathroom?” will go a long way to endearing yourself with the locals. They’ll like that you tried.

17- Read a history book!

You can’t understand a place’s present if you don’t know anything about its past. Read up on the destinations you are visiting. It will give you a deeper understanding of this place you’ve wanted to see for so long!

18- Don’t be ashamed to walk into a Starbucks or McDonald’s.

Sometimes familiarity is comforting and both places have free wifi and public restrooms you can use. (Just don’t eat the food at McDonald’s! That shit is gross and unhealthy for you! You can get it back home!)

19-Don’t fly direct

When booking flights, sometimes it is cheaper to fly into airports close to your final destination, and then take a train or bus to where you need to go. Be sure to shop around for your flight and know that direct isn’t always the cheapest route.

20- Always get behind business travelers when in security lines.

They move fast since they are usually in a rush and travel light. They know the drill. Line up behind them as much as possible. You’ll speed through the line!

21- Never get behind families.

They take forever. It’s not their fault. They just have a lot of stuff because of the kids. Try to avoid getting in lines with lots of kids. It’s going to take awhile.

22- When you check in to the hotel, don’t be afraid to ask for an upgrade.

They have a lot of flexibility when it comes to assigning upgrades at check-in. It never hurts to ask. Often times they can accommodate you if the hotel isn’t full. Just be super nice!

23- Libraries, Starbucks, and most cafés have free Wi-Fi.

If you’re staying someplace that charges you to connect, check out one of these places. You can connect for free.

24- Lunchtime is the best time to visit historical sites.

Be a contrarian. You’ll have fewer crowds getting in your way as big tour buses, groups, and most travelers head to lunch. It’s always best to visit an attraction super early, late, or when people eat. You’ll have even the most popular places to yourself!

25- Never eat in a touristy area or near a tourist attraction

As a general rule, I walk five blocks in either direction before I find a place to eat. The closer you are to tourist attractions the more you are going to pay and the worse the food (and service). Use websites like Yelp, Google Maps, Foursquare, or Open Rice to find some delicious and popular restaurants around you.

Additionally, never eat anywhere the menu is in like 6 languages! That means the restaurant is just for tourists!

26- Locals don’t eat out every night and neither should you.

Go grocery shopping. You can learn a lot about locals’ diets by seeing the type of food they buy. Plus, it will save you a lot of money. You won’t regret it. Cook your food, save money, surprise yourself!

27- Eat at expensive restaurants during lunch.

Most expensive restaurants offer lunch specials featuring the same food they would serve for dinner but half the price! That’s the best time to eat out when you travel.

28- Pack a flashlight.

It will let you see at night, you avoid stepping on stuff, and help you tell ghost stories. Who’s afraid of the dark?

29-Carry a basic first-aid kit.

Accidents happen so be prepared. I take band-aids, antibacterial cream, and ointments for minor cuts and scrapes. You never know when you’re going to need it and you can’t always get it when you travel.

30- Book flights 2-3 months in advance to get the best price.

Don’t drive yourself too crazy trying to get the absolute cheapest fare. Spending five hours to try to save $10 will cause you a lot of stress. Here are some article on how to save money on flights:

31- Stay in hostels

They are cheap, organize events, you’ll meet a lot of people, and they are just tons of fun! Plus, hostel bars sell cheap beer.

32- Use Meetup, the sharing economy, and hospitality websites to meet locals

These websites will help you get an insider’s perspective on your destination by connecting you with locals in the places you visit. The sharing economy has changed the way people travel allowing you to meet locals, get off the tourist travel, and save mega money! It’s a triple win – and resources that I use all the time when I travel. Here’s an article on how to use the sharing economy (and what websites to use) when you travel.

33- Be open to strangers

Not everyone bites. Say hi to people on the road. Turn strangers into friends. Remember they are just like you! They want to live a happy, full life and have hopes and dreams too! You never know. You just might make some lifelong friends.

34- But keep your guard up.

Some people do bite, so keep a healthy level of suspicion. You don’t want to fall for any travel scams or get yourself into uncomfortable situations. Be open but cautious.

35- Try new food.

Don’t ask what it is. Just put it in your mouth and see if you like it. If you put your guard up, you might miss out on some unusual and delicious local cuisine. Here

36- Avoid taxis.

They are always a budget buster. Never, ever take a taxi unless you absolutely have too!

37- Take an empty metal water bottle through airport security and fill it up at your gate.

Drink from the tap when you can — you’ll save money and help the environment. If you’re going somewhere where you can’t drink the water, be sure to get a water bottle with a filter. I love LifeStraw and Grayl as my two preferred ones.

38- Take free walking tours.

Besides being free, these tours will give you a good orientation and background of the city you are visiting. I love, love, love taking walking tours when I travel. You pass the time, you get to pepper the guide with questions, and you get to learn so much about where you are! Take a walking tour when you travel!

39- Get city attraction cards.

If you are going to visit a lot of museums and other attractions in a short period of time, a city pass is going to save you money on admission (plus most provide free public transportation too!).

40- Take pictures of your luggage and clothes.

If your bag gets lost, this will help identify it more easily and speed up the process of having your travel insurance reimburse you.

41- Carry emergency cash.

Because emergencies happen. Like that time in Romania when I couldn’t find an ATM and needed money for the bus to the hostel! I usually try to keep around a $200 USD in emergency cash in case something happens!

42- Get good shoes.

You walk a lot when you travel. Don’t beat up your feet. Love them as much as they love you, and they’ll take you to amazing places.

43- Get vaccinated.

Because falling prey to an illness in a foreign country is not fun — and many countries require you to get vaccinated in order to visit them so, regardless of your opinion on the subject, you just might have to.

44- Learn to haggle.

Haggling is a fun, playful way of not getting charged the foreigner price. It’s the art of negotiating and one that will help you throughout all of life, not just at the market.

45- Use points and miles for free travel.

You can go a lot further in the world when you don’t have to pay for it. Learn the art of travel hacking and collect points and miles through your everyday spending so you can get free flights, accommodation, train tickets, and other forms of travel! It’s what all expert travelers due to lower their travel costs and something you should do too! Here’s how I earn 1 million frequent flier miles every year!

46- Take a jacket.

Nights get chilly.

47- Eat street food!

If you skip the street food, you miss out on culture. Don’t be scared. If you’re nervous, look for places where kids are eating. If it’s safe for them, it’s safe for you.

48- Get travel insurance

Travel insurance is the most important thing you get that you never want to use. If something goes wrong, you don’t want to be out thousands of dollars in bills. It will be there if you get robbed, flights get cancelled, you get sick or injured, or have to be sent home. It’s comprehensive and, for just a few dollars a day, one of the best investments you can get for a trip. You may think you’re superman/woman but so did my friend who broke her arm, didn’t have insurance, and had to pay thousands out of pocket. Insurance was there when I had to replace my camera and when I popped an eardrum scuba diving!

49- Be patient.

Things will work out in the end. No need to rush. You’ll get to where you are going in due time. Travel is about the journey, not the destination.

50- Be respectful.

Locals are willing to help you out, but there’s probably a language barrier, so keep your cool when something doesn’t go your way. If you don’t, you’ll end up just looking like an asshole tourist.

51- Don’t overplan your trip.

Let your days unfold naturally. Schedule two or three things and let the day fill in the rest on its own. It’s less stressful, and letting the day just take you is one of the best ways to travel.

52- Relax.

See Be patient.

53- Be frugal — but not cheap.

Don’t be penny wise but pound-foolish. Look for deals and don’t waste money, but don’t miss out on great experiences or walk 10 miles to save a couple of dollars. Time is money. Spend them both wisely.

54- Take earplugs.

Snorers are everywhere and you need your sleep.

55- Always have an extra USB charger.

Batteries die. Your good mood shouldn’t.

56- Take photos of and with people.

Lots of photos. Years from now, you’ll want to look back on those nights you can’t remember and the people who made them memorable.

57- Book your tickets online

If you’re planning to do any activities or excursions on your trip, book them online. Companies usually offer a discounted price when compared to buying in person. Not only that but you’ll be able to pay with a credit card, giving you some extra protection as well as more travel points!

58- Sign up for flight deals

When it comes to travel, your flight(s) will likely be your biggest expense. Save money by signing up for flight deal websites like Scott’s Cheap Flights, The Flight Deal, and Secret Flying. You’ll get epic flight deals straight to your inbox, saving you time and money. Also be sure to sign up for airline newsletters, since that is where they will announce their sales first!

59- Pre-book your tickets to attractions

Many major attractions allow you to reserve your spot and skip the line. Always look online to see if this is an option. This will you to avoid wasting time in multi-hour lines and go right in. I’ve seen people wait hours for the Paris Catacombs, Louvre, London Churchill War Rooms, churches, temples, historic fortresses, and more. Pre-book the day before, skip the line, get to see more during your day!

60- Avoid TripAdvisor

TripAdvisor is fine when you need opening hours or an address, but when it comes to reviews I ignore it completely. People always leave a negative review when something bad happens but rarely leave a positive review when something good happens so the reviews tend to be skewed. On top of that, it’s very easy to create fake reviews and make a place seem better than it is. Many hotels and restaurants hire firms to artificially inflate their reviews on the platform. Additionally, TripAdvisor has been known to take down reviews that are overly negative as well reviews on sexual assualt. Use TripAdvisor with caution. Or better yet, don’t use it at all.

61- Finally, wear sunscreen.

For as the Baz Luhrmann song “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)” goes:

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists Whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable Than my own meandering experience.

[xtruss]

Real Retirement

America’s ‘Ugliness and Divisiveness’ Pushed This Couple to Retire Abroad

‘Leaving the U.S. for a more peaceful environment was in our best interests’

— September 11, 2021 | By Paul Brandus | Market Watch

A Sunny Day in Panama City. Getty Images/I Stock Photo

The United States has always been divided, but in recent years this has been accompanied by a nasty, off the charts intolerance that each side seems to have for the other. Some Americans who can afford to do so are getting out.

Which is why Cheryl Smelson (a retired journalist) and her husband David (a sales manager who will work remotely) are kicking up their heels in Panama, where they moved on Sept. 1.

Cheryl, a former member of the White House press corps (we often sat together in the briefing room) tells me “the ugliness and divisiveness among the American people is a danger to democracy. We felt leaving the U.S. for a more peaceful environment was in our best interests.”

Cheryl

Why Panama?

Panama, described on one retirement site as “one of the top retirement destinations in the world,” boasting an “affordable cost of living and high standard of living,” quickly attracted their attention. “We wanted to live reasonably close to Maryland, where our son is attending college,” Cheryl says. “That pretty much ruled out Europe and Asia. We prefer warmer climates over colder, so that narrowed the field to Central America. We had vacationed in Costa Rica a few years ago, but our research led us to Panama (which borders Costa Rica) as the better choice for us. There is a large community of expat Americans active on social media who gave us lots of information about life on the ground.”

The quality of life for expats is good. “Panama currently has a lower Covid rate than the U.S.; a low crime rate; per capita income is high compared with other Latin American countries; and the government is stable,” Cheryl says. Panama also uses American currency, so there’s no need to change money or figure out what things cost.

Housing Costs

In the capital of Panama City, dotted with skyscrapers, high-end shopping and abundant nightlife, a couple can live quite comfortably on $1,500 to $2,000 a month. If you and your spouse had nothing but the average-size Social Security check ($1,543 in 2021), you could do pretty well. The Smelsons can afford to spend more—$2,500 to rent a luxury apartment with gorgeous views—but you could get by on less.

Compared with most major American cities, those costs seem reasonable.

But Panama City is also blazing hot and dripping in humidity, and can have American-style traffic jams. Some retirees opt for nearby beach towns like Coronado, which are buffeted by cool breezes and quiet.

The Smelsons, who are renting on a short-term basis while they house hunt, are drawn to nearby mountain towns which are much cooler. Two are Santa Fe and Boquete, which can have California-like weather, but rents that can average—get this—about $500 per month. Boquete has tons of expats, many of them baby boomer retirees lured there by the cooler temperatures and low cost of living. Cheryl advises, however that

“Your average American likely will experience higher [than $500] costs because they’ll have higher standards (like hot-water in every faucet, reliable electricity, shop in more expensive grocery stores),” Cheryl advises.

Healthcare

U.S. healthcare is very good—if you can afford it. Fidelity, the Boston-based investment giant, estimates that the average American couple retiring at age 65 will need to spend a whopping $300,000 to cover healthcare expenses over the remainder of their lives. Panama offers socialized medicine to all for basic care, and according to the Smelsons, who cite comments made by other expats, “doctors in Panama are highly qualified, accessible, and costs are exponentially lower than in the U.S.”

But expats are still encouraged to have their own health insurance for comprehensive care.

Planning and Preparation

Moving abroad is obviously a big deal and involves a lot of “planning, planning, and more planning,” says Cheryl. “Get advice from the people who have been there before you, but really understand your own circumstances. The definition of ‘low-cost’ means different things to different people. And be realistic about your priorities.”

The Smelsons also spent a year decluttering, getting rid of virtually everything they owned.

“It was done painstakingly, a little each day,” Cheryl says, and when they arrived in Panama, they were down to two large checked suitcases and a carry-on bag each. That’s it. There’s really nothing that can’t be bought in Panama anyway, she adds.

The Smelsons also set up a virtual mail service in the U.S., which will only forward essential pieces of mail. What’s “virtual mail?” (A virtual mailbox service provides individuals and business owners with a real street address or virtual PO Box. A digital mailbox enables individuals and corporates to improve receiving postal mail and packages anywhere in the world. For example, if you are a frequent traveler or your business is located outside the US. You definitely need a virtual address to view and manage your postal mail and packages. A virtual mailing address gives you a more prestigious address located in a big city. It will also give you an anonymous mailbox to keep your home address safe.) Here are several companies that offer a variety of services.

List of Virtual Mail Companies (Left). The slimmed-down possessions Cheryl and David took with them to Panama (Right).

Banking

One drawback: It’s harder to open a local bank account in Panama than in the U.S., Smelson says. The Panamanian law firm they hired to process their residency visas helped cut through red tape, and now they’re good to go. Wire transfers are common and so is cash — compared to the increasingly cashless and digital U.S. “We’ve found cash is used more commonly, although most restaurants in the (Panama) city take credit cards.”

It’s important to add that anyone seeking to apply for a permanent residency visa in Panama is required to retain a Panamanian law firm, Cheryl says. “Our law firm was among those recommended by the organization that specializes in helping Americans relocate to Panama. It’s an extra service to have the law firm help set up a bank account, but very well worth it in my opinion.”

She adds: “Our Spanish is not good (they’re learning) and government and banking officials mostly don’t speak English, so a bilingual law firm is extremely helpful.”

What About You?

Have you retired abroad? Are you thinking about it? Tell me where you are—or where you’re considering moving—and why? Help me share your advice with others. Write to me at RetireBetterMarketWatch@gmail.com — and thanks.

[dunnystuff]

Sent: Wednesday, September 01, 2021 12:04 PM

Subject: Rich's Blog

Now We know How Churchill Felt Watching Neville Chamberlain

Hi to all -

The Aftermath

I had heard that during his term, Obama would sometimes ban Biden from attending strategy meetings because his 'thinking was dangerous'. Guess even Obama knew that Biden was not a diplomat, leader or thinker. Just a political hack, easily manipulated.

Well, everyone can now watch this. Yes, Biden did meet the plane returning the bodies of our fallen. He dutifully stood there, trying to look somber, but he was clearly not there in spirit. As each of the 13 bodies was carried off the plane, Biden stopped and looked at his watch. He had someplace more important to be than honoring our soldiers. Perhaps if those coffins had been filled with cash from China, he could have spared some time. Some of the families noticed this, and said very unkind things about Biden.

Remember Hurricane Sandy? That storm devastated the coastal areas of New Jersey. Obama paid a visit to see the destruction, and in one very revealing moment, he stood amidst the ruins of a home, holding up a weeping woman, and promised her with all the sincerity a politician can muster that he would not desert them, but would be there to take care of their tragedy. Then, he looked at his watch, and literally dropped this woman, saying he had a fundraiser to go to. Later, these people were told, by mail, that they did not qualify for federal aid, just because their houses had literally been wiped off the map. One homeowner sent the bureaucrats a letter, with a photo of himself standing in the ruins of his home, and inviting them to come over for dinner, since they were not experiencing any loss, or deserving of any aid from the government.

Now that the battle is over, and there is nothing to be done, the GOP members of congress held a long presser today. Lots of hand wringing, and the usual lamenting that someone must be held accountable, etc. Easy to do, after weeks of silence. But several members got up and told angry stories - these were often vets of that war - of people they knew being executed by the Taliban. One congressman told of his interpreter having been captured by the Taliban, and having to watch them behead his wife and children, before they beheaded him.

Nancy Pelosi was asked to attend. But, Nancy, like all piss ant tyrants, is a coward, and refused to attend to hear the stories, or answer the questions, etc. Nancy can only function in the dark, or in an environment she totally controls. Daylight is as dangerous to her as it is to any vampire. She sent some poor underling who was powerless to say or do anything.

For weeks now, Nancy has forbidden any discussion in congress about the situation, and blocked every effort by others to mitigate the problems or prevent the losses. Treason? Conspiracy? Efforts to destroy America? You decide. And, there was a lot of angry emotion in the room. A group of 90 generals and admirals demanded the resignation of General Milley and General Austin (Head of the Joint Chiefs and Secretary of Defense) for their total failure in this bungled effort. Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin was revealed to have had detailed knowledge of the attacks on our troops in advance. He even notified medical personnel to be prepared for a 'mass casualty event' more than 1.5 hours before it happened! Dereliction of duty, anyone? In fact, our intelligence people had been presenting detailed descriptions of what was happening, and what was about to happen, when and where, to our forces on the ground. The word 'impeachment' was not mentioned. How odd.

Pentagon Press Secretary John Kirby blithely dismissed leaving so many stranded people as 'We have people stranded all the time.' He refused to answer any questions about the botched pullout . he refused to answer why, knowing what was about to happen, he failed to warn or protect our soldiers. But what really got a lot of folks riled up was the reveal, and photos, of our service dogs being abandoned, in their kennels, on the airfield. These dogs are soldiers, too, who work and give their lives for our soldiers. There is a move to rescue them, as they are in the custody of friendly people still there.

But, if we stall questions for a short time, they will be unnecessary. The Taliban is going house to house slaughtering 'enemies of their new state'. When I said this was going to happen, Big Brother censored my story.

Biden, meanwhile, is claiming that this was a 'great victory', and dancing his victory dance. He did what no one else could do. Well, that part is correct. We have never had a traitor like this before. And, all those $82 billion worth of weapons will be on the world arms markets in days, if they are not there already. This is more weapons that many of our allied nations possess - and they will go to the highest bidder, and will soon be used against us right here - coming across our southern border. Did you see the videos? Pallets of pistols, rifles, binoculars , night vision gear, body armor, and tons of ammo. Thousands of vehicles, even aircraft.

By the way, Biden is trying to get the CDC to ban ammo sales and distribution as a health and safety issue, since he cannot do it by Executive Order. An old Obama back door approach. He also wants private companies to do what he cannot do - discriminate against manufacturers and buyers of weapons - even as our own weapons are coming to attack us.

Do you remember what Ike did as he was about to launch D-Day? Chances were not so great that it would succeed. So, Ike prepared two statements. One, to give if the landings were successful, and another if they were not. In the second case, Ike said that the failure was his, and his alone. There are no Ike's in the Biden White House. Only whining finger pointers.

Teachers Union

President Cecily Myart-Cruz noted that kids are not doing well, and says that lockdowns that have kept so many out of class for nearly a year and a half is no problem at all. Just because they do not know their multiplication tables, or how to read, or spell, or write their own names, that does not mean they are not educated. Not at all. After all, she said, they have learned resilience. And, they know all about riots, protests, and insurrection. That is more important than basic functional skills, right?

General Flynn

He is still hated and feared by the left. He just posted a letter he received from Chase Bank - which caused quite a stir. The letter said "We decided to close your credit cards on September 18, 2021, because continuing the relationship creates possible reputational risk to our company." Well, such blatant discrimination got a lot of folks up in arms, and Chase had to issue a retraction, claiming 'it was an error'. No, it was not. It was an attempt to punish a man because of his political beliefs.

To put this in perspective, Chase just agreed to a $920 million settlement with the DOJ for conspiring to defraud the markets for precious metals and Treasury Bonds . If the settlement is nearly a billion dollars, just how big was this fraud?

New Orleans

Well, they are getting into action for the aftermath of storm Ida. The looting is already in progress, so the head of law enforcement made the announcement that this would not be tolerated, and that looting was a felony, and anyone arrested would be treated as a felon. Some have already been arrested. Compare to Katrina.

Years back, I lived in a small town with a very corrupt local government. It had been a family fiefdom for years. The Judge was family with the sheriff, and all other officials were on the take. Cops would raid one drug gang, and then sell the drugs from their police cars while on patrol. There were organized theft gangs, hitting up to 100 homes per week. No one ever saw their goods again. Except for one. When the gang hit the home of the judge, he complained to the sheriff that his wife's silver and furs had been taken, and by the most amazing coincidence, the sheriff found those items the very next day, and returned them to the judge.

Finally, the feds had enough, and swooped in and arrested everyone above the rank of meter maid. The mayor ran for reelection from his jail cell! Well, a new crop of folks took over, and one of the first things they did was institute a new law for the holidays. See, business robberies were an everyday occurrence during the holiday season (your Christmas shoplifting), as I knew first hand from being on the receiving end of an armed robbery, with daytime raids and nighttime break ins. So, there was an announcement that in any case of questionable behavior, police would shoot first, ask questions later. It was not long before two incidents brought this policy to light. A young man tried to rob a convenience store, and was shot dead as he exited the building. Another young man was discovered climbing out of a basement window of a business, with what looked like a weapon, but turned out to be the screwdriver he used to break in with, and he was also shot dead. When these two stories were reported on the news, robberies and other crime dropped by 90%, and never returned to former levels. Even crooks have a risk limit.

War of 1912

During this war, the British sent a force up the river to seize control of an important American post. A man on the riverbank yelled at the British "If Washington were still president, he would not let you do this !" The British officer responded "If Washington were still president, we would not even try." Teddy Roosevelt expressed this well, when he said "Speak softly, and carry a big stick". When people know you mean it - they will leave you alone.

China

They are concerned over how much time young people spend on video games. So, now all video games must be registered with the state, using real names and personal ID card numbers. All games will be monitored by the state, and youth will be allowed no more than three hours weekly to play games. One hour daily on weekends, and one hour on holidays. Kids and game makers are not happy, but this is China, and you have no say in your own life in China. Look for similar things to come here.

Rich

[peaches-of-1]

Demon AU: 666 So Fresh- Chapter 2

Type: Angst, fluff, romance

Taehyung (V), Yoongi (Suga), OC Zula

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of suicide

<- Previous | Next ->

It had taken all night and for the three strangers to get far enough for Yoongi’s comfort. She woke up near 10 am when her phone alarm went off. Her hand slapped it off without the rest of her knowing.

Zula bolted up, “Fuck, my paper’s due in two hours!” She then looked around and remembered everything.

Being demon spawn and a killer, she would probably never show up at school again. All that tuition down the drain. Her parents would kill her, but only one of them would be strong enough to actually do it. The one that was an actual demon.

“Sleep well?” Yoongi smirked.

“Y-yeah, I guess.” She shifted in her seat and looked behind her to see the other man fast asleep in the back seat. “So it was real.” She whispered to herself.

The driver snickered, “Taking you a while to realize that, huh, Demi?”

She glared at him, “Not every day you discover you’re half demon. Kind of hard to believe.” Her attention shifted to the window. “How much longer until we stop? I gotta piss.”

“Soon.” He said. “Almost outta gas.” pointing at the dash.

Zula made a sound in reply and then a loud noise came from the back. A sore Taehyung woke up with a roar and a stretch, hitting his head on the door.

“Ouch!”

The two in the front seat giggled.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Her flute-like voice greeted him.

He smiled at her, “Morning. Aish, I gotta take a piss.”

“That’s what she just said.”

Taehyung met Zula’s eyes even as she tried to hide them away. He couldn’t help but thinking she was hella cute. He was kind of run over by a car last night, so he didn’t think much about actually looking at the people he was with.

“We’re getting close to an exit.” Yoongi said. “Don’t you dare pee in this car, or I’ll end you.”

They pulled up to a pretty small gas station in a pretty deserted town. They went inside to handle their business. Bathroom, gas, and snacks. Luckily, Zula’s rapist had left his wallet in this specific jacket that she had stolen. Wow, a thief and a killer. She really was a demon.

She wasn’t brave enough to use the credit card that was in there. Dude carried enough cash for a decent meal, so she stacked up on chips and gummies and sodas while the others got whatever they wanted. Zula opened the wallet to put the left over cash in and noticed his card was missing.

“Yeah, my boyfriend said it was ok to use it.” Yoongi said, flashing the credit card in the cashier’s face. He smirked knowing she wouldn’t dare cause a scene in a place like this.

“Whatever.” The gothic being said and ran it.

Safe.

Zula just went back into the car and left the door open as she opened the first bottle of root beer. The other man was already in the back eating as well. She wondered where he came from and why such a beautiful face decided to launch himself in front of a moving vehicle.

Yoongi handed Zula the card back. “Thanks.”

“No problem, douche.” She replied with a smile and snatching it back.

He chuckled and leaned on the car, opening a beer bottle. Being raised as a human, Zula knew that drinking and driving was bad. However, she didn’t know how many of those rules applied to Hell Spawn. Probably not.

She still didn’t even know their names. Taehyung was thinking the same thing and was itching to ask her. He didn’t want to get to know her, though, if he was never going to see her again. Yoongi threw his bottle in the trash.

“A demon who cares about the environment.” She snarked.

“We don’t need our second kingdom to be filthy, now do we?” He retorted. “I’m gonna check out the trunk. See what I’ve got.”

Singular. Tae thought. He wasn’t gonna let them tag along. He’d be thrown back into reality with nothing to do and no way to end his horrible life.

“Holy shit!” The brown-haired full demon exclaimed.

If something was enough to surprise him, then it was worth seeing. That’s what the two others decided as they rushed to go see what was up. In the trunk, there was a tan duffel bag overflowing with stacks of money. Based on the face...it was...

Zula gasped, “Holy...”

“Fuck” Taehyung finished.

Yoongi closed the trunk. They were all hundreds. They were rich! As an embodiment of greed, this was all that he had ever wanted. But these two kids knew about it, too.

The girls started hopping around and spinning. “We’re rich! We’re actually rich! I can pay off my tuition!” She was almost in tears. It must have been part of her wildest dreams to have so much money. Didn’t seem like she cared where it came from, either.

“You can’t kick us to the curb now. We know your face and your car, and your secret.”

Brown eyes flickered to the guy inside the gas station who was busy playing on their phone and didn’t seem to pay them any mind. Maybe they should die just in case. The girl stopped spinning and looked at him.

“We’ll report your to the police if you don’t take us with you. Do you know how easily it’ll be to convince them that you’re the one who tricked a poor innocent girl into killing some fratboy asshole?” Zula batted her eyes and pouted.

The kid tilted his head, “She’s got a point.”

He sighed, “Fine, fine, you can come with me!”

The girl rushed him with a hug and bounced, not knowing her own affect on him. Her squeals held more joy than any angel could ever muster.

“I’m so happy, I could kiss you!”

Yoongi smirked and raised his brows. She was legal, even for something his age. Then she backed up, releasing the strange demon man and looking around herself.

“But I won’t.” Zula said as she blushed.

The boy with the mullet had sat on the curb, “So, names?”

“Yoongi.” Their savior of sorts introduced himself. “Hell Spawn of Greed.”

“Zula.” She followed his lead. “Demi Spawn of Lust, I guess.”

“Taehyung. Call me Tae.” He stopped there.

They nodded and remembered the names of their new companions and decided to drive off before Human Hot Topic remembered they existed. First place they needed to go was to get new clothes. They asked Yoongi what exactly what powers they had. He had no idea. It differed from Spawn to Spawn.

All they knew for sure was Zula apparently could already access her true form which included claws and stuff. She described more of the attempted rape to get a better understanding. Also, Taehyung couldn’t die. Yoongi had a lot of things that he said they’d find out through being around him so much.

Rolling up to the mall, Zula had one more thing to ask.

“Last night you said that I was Hiding. What’s that?”

“You basically don’t exist. It’s a natural response when you don’t want to be seen, you just aren’t. That street last night was bustling with drunk couples and none of them saw you. It’s just to make sure no one, no human that is, knows what you are.”

Tae asked, “So we can’t control it?”

“Not one bit. At least, you two can’t. Not yet. You’ll learn though.”

As Zula started to get out of the car, Yoongi stopped her.

“Where the Hell do you think you’re going?”

“To the mall? I need to get new clothes, Yoongi. Tae, tell him.” She looked towards her attractive companion for back up.

Yoongi shot him a glare, “She’s covered in blood.”

She sighed, “Fine.” In the middle of the parking lot, she took off her bloodstained top and skirt, revealing shorts underneath. “Blood’s only on the inside of the jacket now, and I’m still clothed enough to be seen in public.”

“Barely.” Tae said, biting his lips and looking her up and down.

Yoongi did the same and laughed, “Yep, your parent came from Lust. No doubt in my mind. Let’s go then.”

The three walked into the place like they owned it in order as to not be seen as suspicious since they were carrying nearly $1,000 each. Yoongi got several new blazers and tons of jeans and hats. Tae got scarves, over-sized dress shirts, and a really expensive camera. Zula bought some blazers and several pairs of shoes. A few formals dresses just in case.

She turned around, wavy black hair fanning slightly as she met his dark brown eyes that seemed to glitter.

“Zula, Come with me to put the clothes in the car. He doesn’t trust me with the keys by myself.”

Her eyes turned to Yoongi who gave a shrug. He wasn’t a flight risk, per say, just a bit. Yeah.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you, Tae.”

The other one bought some more things. Apparently, the money was good since no cops or guards had shown up yet. The handsome cashier tried to make conversation about what they were up to. He said he was helping his little brother impress a girl, so they brought her along for a shopping trip.

Said he was using money from his new promotion at some company in the US that she’d probably never heard of. She bought it. And it wasn’t completely a lie. Yoongi had been part of a US company before he scammed them all out of their money and moved back to South Korea.

That was his last big take that lasted him a good while. Yoongi decided to go put his stuff in the car as well. He he had given them enough time.

Tae told her. Everything. How many times he’s tried based on the lipstick stains on the wall. When he started. How he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop. He lit a cigarette.

“I’m just not sure there’s anything I wanna live for, and just existing sucks. So the only other option is death, right?” He turned to see tears running down her face and was confused at the pain it caused in his chest. Not a pain he had felt before.

Zula wiped her eyes, “I’m sorry. I just. That’s so sad.” She held his hands. “Please find something to live for, Tae. Even if it’s superficial like money or whatever, maybe adventure. This adventure. Find it.”

He was confused. No one had been so passionate towards him in a while, at least not in a kind way. Usually, they were just yells and screams about how he could’ve done better. Blaming him for what he was born as. His parents fought a lot, and he now understood why.

“Would you miss me? If one day I succeeded, would you miss me?”

She bit her lip, looked away and then stared into his eyes, “Yes. I would. I don’t know you that well, but we’re stuck like this for a reason. So yeah, I’d miss you.”

A loud voice surprised and embarrassed them for some reason, “Just fuck already!”

The two parted and didn’t look at each other. They weren’t that close and that wasn’t what they wanted...right? At least, not, not yet.

“So, are we going back inside? I think there might be a few more things--”

“Nah, let’s go somewhere else.” Yoongi cut him off. “I think we need party clothing and bathing suits, and I know a demon who has it for free.”

So they all climbed back in the car.

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Did you ever wish that you really understood money? Well, Dave Barry wishes that he did, too. But that hasn’t stopped him from writing this book. In it, Dave explores (as only he can) such topics as: 

• How the U.S. economy works, including the often overlooked role of Adam Sandler 

• Why it is not a good idea to use squirrels for money 

• Strategies that will give you the confidence you need to try for a good job, even though you are—let’s be honest—a no-talent loser 

• How corporate executives, simply by walking into their offices, immediately become much stupider 

• An absolutely foolproof system for making money in the stock market, requiring only a little effort (and access to time travel) 

• Surefire tips for buying and selling real estate, the key being: Never buy—or, for that matter, sell—real estate 

• How to minimize your federal taxes, safely and legally, by cheating 

• Why good colleges cost so much, and how to make sure your child does not get into one 

• How to reduce the cost of your medical care by basically not getting any 

• Estate planning, especially the financial benefits of an early death 

• And many, many pictures of Suze Orman 

But that’s only the beginning! Dave has also included in this book all of the important points from a book written by Donald Trump, so you don’t have to read it yourself. Plus he explains how to tip, how to negotiate for everything (including bridge tolls), how to argue with your spouse about money, and how much allowance to give your children (three dollars is plenty). He also presents, for the first time in print anywhere, the Car Dealership Code of Ethics (“Ethic Seven: The customer is an idiot”). Also, there are many gratuitous references to Angelina Jolie naked. You can’t afford not to buy this book! Probably you need several copies. 

What kind of financial shape are you in right now? This scientific quiz will show you. 

Be honest in your answers: If you lie, you’ll only be lying to yourself! The place to lie is on your federal tax return.

What is your annual income? 

1. More than $50,000. 

2. Less than $50,000. 

3. However much I get when I return these empties. 

Not counting your mortgage, how much money do you currently owe? 

1. Less than $10,000. 

2. More than $10,000. 

3. Men are threatening to cut off my thumbs. 

How would you describe your portfolio? 

1. Conservative, mainly bonds and blue-chip equities. 

2. Aggressive, mainly options and speculative stocks. 

3. My what? 

When analyzing an investment, what do you consider to be the most important factor? 

1. The amount of return. 

2. The degree of risk. 

3. The name of the jockey. 

How do you plan to finance your retirement? 

1. Savings. 

2. Social security. 

3. Sale of kidneys. 

—from the Introduction: “Why You Need This Book” 

"A book so funny it may be dangerous to your health." 

– Janet Maslin, New York Times 

“Read this book. It will make you laugh.” 

— Washington Post

Dave Barry has been awarded the Pulitzer Prize for commentary. His columns for the Miami Herald were syndicated worldwide, and he is the author of a number of bestselling books, including the recently publishedPeter and the Starcatchers with Ridley Pearson. He lives in Miami, where he drives very nervously.

Chapter 1 

How Money Works 

Or: Everybody Clap for Tinker Bell! 

Why is money valuable? Why are people willing to work so hard for it, lie for it, cheat for it, go to prison for it, fight for it, kill for it, give up their children for it . . . even marry Donald Trump for it? 

I mean, look at the dollar bill. What is it, really? It’s a piece of paper! What’s more, it’s a piece of paper that appears to have been designed by a disturbed individual. On one side, you have a portrait of George Washington, who, granted, was the Father of Our Country and a great leader and everything, but who looks, in this particular picture . . . 

. . . like a man having his prostate examined by Roto-Rooter. And then on the other side of the dollar you have: 

What is that about? Why is there a picture of a pyramid, instead of a structure traditionally associated with the fundamental values of the United States of America, such as a Wal-Mart? And why is the pyramid being hovered over by an eyeball the size of a UPS truck? 

Whatever the explanation, the design of the dollar would not seem to inspire confidence in its value. And yet if you drop a few dollars from an overpass onto a busy freeway at rush hour, people will run into traffic and literally risk their lives in an effort to grab them. Try it! 

What does this tell us? It tells us that people are stupid. But it also tells us that money is more than just pieces of paper. But what makes it valuable? To answer that question, we need to consider: 

The History of Money 

In prehistoric times, there was no such thing as money. When people needed to buy something, they had to charge it. And then when the bills came, nobody could understand them, because there was also no such thing as reading. This led to a lot of misunderstandings and hitting with rocks. 

The first form of money that we are aware of by looking it up on the Internet was animals. From the start there were problems with this type of money, particularly the smaller denominations, such as squirrels, which were always biting the payee and scampering away. 

By 9000 b.c., the most commonly accepted form of animal money was cattle. When you bought something, you would give the other person a cow, and the other person would give your change in calves. This was better than squirrels, but still not an efficient system. The cash registers were disgusting. 

By 3000 b.c., the Mesopotamians had invented two concepts that revolutionized economic activity: (1) writing and (2) banking. This meant that, for the first time, it was possible for a Mesopotamian to walk into a bank and hand the teller a stone tablet stating: 

GIVE ME ALL YOUR COWS AND NOBODY GETS HURT 

These robbers were captured quickly, because they had to make their getaways at very slow speeds. Still, it was clear that a better medium of exchange was needed. 

The ancient Chinese tried to solve the problem by using seashells as money. The advantage of this system was that seashells were small, durable, clean, and easy to carry. The drawback was that they were, in a word, seashells. This meant that anybody with access to the sea could get them. By the time the ancient Chinese had figured this out, much of their country was the legal property of gulls. 

And so the quest continued for a better form of money. Various cultures experimented with a number of commodities, including tea, grains, leather, tobacco, and Pokémon cards. Then, finally, humanity hit upon a medium of exchange that had no disadvantages—a medium that was durable, portable, beautiful, and universally recognized to have lasting value. That medium, of course, was beer. 

No, seriously, it was precious metals, especially gold and silver, which—in addition to being rare and beautiful—could be easily shaped into little disks that fit into vending machines. 

Before long, many cultures were using some form of gold for money. It came in a wide variety of shapes and designs, as we see in these photographs of ancient coins unearthed by archeologists: 

The problem was that gold is too heavy to be constantly lugged around. So, to make it easier for everybody, governments began to issue pieces of paper to represent gold. The deal was, whenever you wanted, you could redeem the paper for gold. The government was just holding your gold for you. But it was YOUR gold! You could get it anytime! That was the sacred promise that the government made to the people. That’s why the people trusted paper money. And that’s why, to this very day, if you—an ordinary citizen—go to Fort Knox and ask to exchange your U.S. dollars for gold, you will be used as a human chew toy by large federal dogs. 

Because the government changed the deal. We don’t have the gold standard anymore. Nobody does. Over the years, all the governments in the world, having discovered that gold is, like, rare, decided that it would be more convenient to back their money with something that is easier to come by, namely: nothing. So even though the U.S. government still allegedly holds tons of gold in “reserve,” you can no longer exchange your dollars for it. You can’t even see it, because visitors are not allowed. For all you know, Fort Knox is filled with Cheez Whiz. 

Which brings us back to the original question: If our money really is just pieces of paper, backed by nothing, why is it valuable? The answer is: Because we all believe it’s valuable. 

Really, that’s pretty much it. Remember the part in Peter Pan where we clap to prove that we believe in fairies, and we save Tinker Bell? That’s our monetary system! It’s the Tinker Bell System! We see everybody else running around after these pieces of paper, and we figure, Hey, these pieces of paper must be valuable. That’s why if you exchanged your house for, say, a pile of acorns, everybody would think you’re insane; whereas if you exchange your house for a pile of dollars, everybody thinks you’re rational, because you get . . . pieces of paper! The special kind, with the big hovering eyeball! 

And you laughed at the ancient Chinese, with the seashells. 

So what does all this mean? Does it mean that our monetary system is a giant house of cards that would collapse like, well, a giant house of cards if the public stopped believing in the pieces of paper? Could all of our “wealth”—our savings, our investments, our pension plans, etc.—suddenly become worthless, meaning that the only truly “wealthy” people would be the survivalist wing nuts who trade all their money for guns and beef jerky? 

Yes. But that probably won’t happen. Because, fortunately, the public prefers not to think about economics. Most people are unable to understand their own telephone bills, let alone the U.S. monetary system. And as long as we don’t question the big eyeball, Tinker Bell is safe. 

OK, now you know what money actually is. (Don’t tell anybody!) The next question is: How come some people have so much money, while others have so little? Why does the money distribution seem so unfair? Why, for example, are professional athletes paid tens of millions of dollars a year for playing silly games with balls, while productive, hardworking people with infinitely more value to society, such as humor writers, must struggle to make barely half that? And above all, how can you, personally, get more money? 

We’ll address these questions in future chapters,3 which will be chock-full of sure-fire, can’t-miss, no-nonsense, common-sense, easy-to-apply, on-the-money hyphenated phrases. You’ll be on your way to riches in no time! All you have to do is really believe in yourself! Come on, show that you really believe! Clap your hands!

Also, just in case, you should get some jerky. 

Why Does the Back of the Dollar Have a Pyramid and a Giant Eyeball? 

There is actually a simple explanation for these two seemingly odd symbols: 

Back when the Founding Fathers were designing our currency, they were looking for an image for the new nation, an image that would symbolize the concept of something strong and massive being watched over by something all-seeing and wise. After much discussion, what they came up with—as you have probably guessed—was a picture of an owl standing on an elephant. 

The Founding Fathers passed this idea along to the artist hired to do the engraving of the printing plates for the dollar, whose name was Phil. As it happened, the day he did the dollar, which was his birthday, Phil consumed what historians now believe was at least two quarts of whiskey, and for whatever reason—the only explanation he ever gave was “the squirrels made me”—he engraved a pyramid with a giant eyeball on top of it. Unfortunately, the Founding Fathers, who were in a hurry to get the dollar printed so they could spend it, failed to notice this until it was too late. Fortunately, however, they did catch the error on the front of the dollar, where, instead of George Washington, Phil had engraved a fish playing tennis. Otherwise we might live in a very different nation today.

[emphasisonem]

It’s My Birthday Too

Summary

“Look, I, um, I wanted to apologize again,” Bucky exhales. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything when I asked if you needed help earlier. I was just trying to be polite, and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I think I might be able to forgive you, yeah.”

Bucky’s positively beaming at that, and Steve kind of can’t believe that something so simple has made this handsome man so happy.

“Glad to hear it,” Bucky replies, batting his eyelashes in a way that Steve would love to read as flirtatious, but there’s no way-

“Be a shame to make a bad impression on somebody as pretty as you.”

Ok, so maybe there is a way, Steve thinks as he gapes up at Bucky.

In which Steve has to work on his birthday, but it turns out pretty damn well.

You can read it on AO3 here.

Edit: Forgot to add that this was inspired by an A+ prompt from the lovely @talsywalsy who is a genuine gift. 

“But Tuesday’s your birthday!”

Steve levels an icy glare at Natasha as the two of them sit at the kitchen table chopping vegetables. Sam snickers from where he stands at the counter as he places chicken into a dish to marinate for their Sunday dinner.

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve grumbles, practically slamming his knife through the zucchini before him. “Of course I’d rather not work on my birthday, but we’ve only got so much of a grace period before July’s rent is due and I’m short on my share. I already picked up all the hours I can down at the art supply store, and it’s not like there’s a ton of work to be had on a holiday.”

Sam turns to face Steve and Nat and leans back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest as he smirks.

“You’re gonna kill me for suggesting this,” Sam begins, and Steve’s eyes narrow.

“Then don’t fucking suggest it,” Steve bites out as he begins to place the vegetables he and Nat have chopped into a roasting pan.

“I could spot you the extra cash for rent this month,” Sam continues, unperturbed even as Steve’s jaw clenches.

“Absolutely not, Sam,” Steve replies. “It’s not like I’m the only college student strapped for cash living in this apartment. Besides, you’ve been saving for ages to make that trip out to the Grand Canyon with Riley next month somethin’ special.”

Sam shrugs, smile still on his face as he says, “I really can spare the money if you need me to. Wouldn’t be the first time one of our trips has had a tighter budget and it won’t be the last.”

“I can chip in some extra too,” Nat chimes in with a slow smile. “We know you’re good for it, and we wanted to celebrate with you, Steve.”

Steve’s anger leaves him in a heavy exhale and his shoulders slump as he stares down at the worn wood of their kitchen table.

“Look, guys, that’s really, really nice of you, but it’s not that big a deal,” Steve says, brushing his light hair away from his forehead. “Besides, we all have work pretty early on Wednesday. Sam, you really wanna handle customer service calls hungover?”

“Well, no,” Sam admits sheepishly.

“And, Nat, you wanna be sittin’ out in the sun and tryin’ to keep a bunch of screaming children in line at the pool with a killer headache?”

Natasha sighs, slumping back in her chair.

“I guess not,” she replies. “Although, you’re turning 22, Steve, not 21. I think we have just a little more self control now than we did last year. But you’ve clearly made up your mind, so we’ll go out next weekend instead.”

“Thank you,” Steve grins, picking up the tray and walking toward the oven. “Now, can we get dinner going already? I’m starving.”

“I cannot believe-” Bucky hisses into his sister’s ear as the two of them stand in the Robinson’s backyard watching a bunch of five-year-olds sprinting around armed with water balloons and Super Soakers- “That I let you talk me into this.”

Becca grins up at Bucky, her dark brown eyes wide with feigned innocence. She’ll be starting her senior year of high school in the fall, but Becca never misses an opportunity to play the little sister card. And Bucky always falls for it.

Which is why he’s helping Becca chaperone Angela Robinson’s birthday party instead of enjoying a barbecue or a pool party or any of the number of options with which his old high school buddies had presented him.

“You love kids,” Becca replies, that shit-eating grin still gracing her suntanned features. Hours of playing outside with Angela, Bucky figures, wondering how Becca manages to keep up with a kid in the summer heat day after day.

Bucky’d asked her about why she’d gone the babysitting route instead of just getting a job at the local grocery store or the movie theater or the public pool or something. Becca had simply shrugged and said it was good money and that she was a more affordable option than summer camp for Angela’s parents.

“Kids are fine,” Bucky sighs as he dodges to avoid a little boy sprinting between him and Becca, somehow getting sprayed with cold water in the process. He’d be annoyed, but it’s at least 95 degrees outside. “I just- I prefer them in smaller, calmer groups.”

Becca just rolls her eyes, and turns her attention back to the kids. “You’re gonna make a heck of an educator, big brother.”

Bucky’s about to snark right back but then Aileen Robinson, Angela’s mother, slides open the back door and walks into the yard with a fresh bowl of fruit in hand. Following her is a short, slim blond boy wearing a backpack and carrying a sizable canister of what Bucky guesses is helium. It is a birthday party, after all.

Aileen sets the bowl down on one of the folding tables on the patio, and then motions for the blond to follow her to where Bucky and Becca are standing.

Bucky can’t quite pinpoint how old the the stranger; he could be all of sixteen, but he could also be closer to Bucky’s age. Bucky really hopes the guy’s not in high school because he’s about a hundred percent Bucky’s type.

The guy’s hair gleams golden in the afternoon sun, a little bit tousled and very soft-looking. His eyes are large and bright, the kind of color Becca and her goofy friends would refer to as fanfiction blue. His cheekbones are sharp, giving him sort of a elfin look that the LOTR nerd that lives inside Bucky finds absolutely adorable. His nose is just a touch too big for his finely drawn features, and it looks like maybe it’s been broken a time or two, but Bucky finds it oddly charming. The guy’s lips are plush and look incredibly kissable.

When Bucky manages to drag his gaze away from the stranger’s mouth, he finds those pretty blue eyes trained squarely on him, and the guy’s brow is furrowed. Bucky’s not sure if it’s annoyance or confusion or a mix of both.

Fuck.

Bucky does his best to smile, but it feels tight and unnatural, and he knows there’s a blush blooming on his cheeks. Becca snickers softly beside him - of course she’d noticed - and Bucky elbows her in the side, hard enough to make her yelp.

Aileen seems completely unaware of the strange tension between the young men as she shouts for the kids to settle down for a moment.

“I have a surprise for all of you!” the woman beams down at the children as they fidget, eager to get back to their games. “This is Steve Rogers, and he’s a balloon artist, so if any of you would like a balloon animal or anything like that, he’ll be here all afternoon!”

Steve smiles and waves at the kids, none of whom seem particularly interested in balloon art at the moment. Bucky figures that might change when they’ve worn themselves out a little bit; the heat’s too thick and humid for them to be this active all afternoon. But now, all they do is stare at Steve for a moment, and then go back to sprinting after each other through the yard.

Steve just shakes his head with a rueful smile.

“Steve, let me introduce you to our party chaperones,” Aileen says, and Bucky shakes himself so that Steve doesn’t catch Bucky staring at his mouth again.

“This is Becca Barnes, Angela’s babysitter,” Aileen smiles as she gestures to Becca. “She’s been an absolute lifesaver so far this summer for Jeff and I. And this is her brother Bucky. Now, Jeff and I are going to be busy getting the food together for the kids, but these two can help you out if you run into any little problems.”

Aileen then turns her attention to Becca as she continues, “Of course, any emergencies, you know you come and interrupt us right away.”

“Of course, Aileen,” Becca nods, taking the older woman’s arm and gently steering her back toward the house. “Bucky and I will handle the kids, and we’ll help Steve out with anything he needs. You just worry about getting lunch together, OK?”

Becca follows Aileen back toward the house, leaving Bucky and Steve standing awkwardly in the middle of the yard.

“Um,” Bucky starts, trying to break the ice as he points at the canister in Steve’s hand. “Can I, uh, help you with that?”

Bucky knows he’s said the wrong thing as soon as Steve’s eyes narrow and his lips thin into a tight line.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” Steve replies cooly. “I know I’m small, but I’m not incapable of carrying the stuff I need to do my job.”

“I- I didn’t,” Bucky stammers out, hands spread out in what he hopes is a placating manner. “That’s- that’s not what I meant. I was just tryin’ to be helpful; I’m sorry.”

Steve’s expression has softened slightly, but it’s still wary as he says, “It’s fine. But really, I’m good. Thanks anyway.”

And then Steve’s walking toward the picnic table on the other side of the yard and Bucky is cursing himself. He’s supposed to be the charming, confident Barnes sibling and he’s already completely fucked up his chances of chatting up Steve.

Bucky sighs, resolving to just do what he came here for - keep an eye on some kids and hang out with his little sister.

And, ok, yeah, maybe he’s gonna sneak a few glances at the pretty blond that Aileen Robinson hired as party entertainment.

He’s only human.

Steve’s actually having a pretty solid birthday in spite of the fact that he has to work. The gig’s gonna pay well, the kids asking for balloon animals have so far been very polite and grateful, and he’s found the only patch of the yard that appears to be permanently in the shade.

The tall, dark and handsome brunet chaperoning the party with his sister certainly isn’t hurting matters either, Steve thinks with a smile as he glances over at Bucky. The young man is nodding and grinning as the birthday girls talks animatedly about lord knows what.

Steve takes a moment to study Bucky while Bucky’s attention is on the child. He’s got dark hair that’s long enough to pull back into a sloppy bun, which Steve finds absolutely adorable. His eyes are the color of a stormy sea (Steve cringes internally at the cliché, but it fits). And that smile, god, but it makes Steve a little weak in the knees.

It’s sort of pathetic, really, that a stranger can have such an immediate affect on Steve, but the guy had blushed a pretty shade of pink when Steve had caught him sharing, so sue him for enjoying the attention.

Angela’s gaze strays to Steve after a few minutes of chatter, a shy little grin on her face before she stares down at her feet and shakes her head. Bucky follows her gaze, then tugs on the kid’s arm, pulling her in Steve’s direction. She follows a little reluctantly, refusing to look up as she and Bucky reach Steve.

“Angela, it’s your birthday,” Bucky reassures the child as he aims a grin Steve’s way, and the hot summer day must be affecting Steve’s weak lungs because he’s having a little trouble breathing.

Definitely just the heat, Steve thinks as Bucky continues, “I’m sure Steve here would be more than happy to make you a balloon flower.”

Steve’s lips twitch slightly before he squats so that he’s at eye level with Angela.

“A flower balloon, huh?” Steve asks, chuckling as Angela finally meets his gaze and nods. “Of course; anything for the birthday girl. What colors would you like me to use?”

Angela tugs on the leg of Bucky’s shorts, a pleading look on her face. Bucky smiles and leans down so that she can whisper something to him, winking at Steve when he catches the blond’s eye.

Shit, Steve thinks as his heart rate  begins to speed up. He’s really hot.

Of course, Steve couldn’t meet a guy this cute in a normal setting like out at a bar or a concert or something, oh no. Had to be at a kid’s party where he’s hired to making fucking balloon animals and shit.

“Angela would like you to use purple and blue for her flower, please,” Bucky says, drawing Steve from his thoughts. Steve smiles and nods before he gets to work, filling each balloon with helium and twisting until he’s holding out a flower to the little girl standing before him.

“Wow,” Angela breathes, a wide grin breaking across her features as she looks up. “Thank you, Mister Steve!”

And then the kid’s tearing off back toward Becca, shouting to her about how pretty her birthday flower is.

“Yeah, thanks, Mister Steve,” Bucky chuckles, suddenly looking a little shy as the two of them stand alone once again. The brunet tucks a strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he smiles at Steve, gray-blue eyes unsure.

“Look, I, um, I wanted to apologize again,” Bucky exhales. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything when I asked if you needed help earlier. I was just trying to be polite, and I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I think I might be able to forgive you, yeah.”

Bucky’s positively beaming at that, and Steve kind of can’t believe that something so simple has made this handsome man so happy.

“Glad to hear it,” Bucky replies, batting his eyelashes in a way that Steve would love to read as flirtatious, but there’s no way-

“Be a shame to make a bad impression on somebody as pretty as you.”

Ok, so maybe there is a way, Steve thinks as he gapes up at Bucky.

“You should, um, you should sit and eat with Becca and me when the food’s ready,” Bucky says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If you want to, I mean.”

“Sure,” Steve somehow manages to get his vocal cords working again, and he’s impressed by his even tone. “That’d be nice.”

A pretty solid birthday, indeed, Steve thinks as he watches Bucky make his way back over to Becca, a disbelieving smile on his face.

“So, Steve,” Becca asks in between bites of her hot dog. “How old are you?”

Bucky casts a sidelong glance at his sister, and Becca just shrugs and smiles innocently like she’s not about to embarrass the hell out of him.

Granted, they got through the first twenty minutes or so of their meal just chatting and laughing like normal people, so Bucky guesses he should be grateful for that much at least.

“Twenty-two,” Steve answers as he pops a French fry into his mouth. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Becca says with a grin as she looks over at Bucky. “You know my big brother is also twenty-two. Just graduated from college this past May, and he’s planning on staying in town for the foreseeable future. Got a job at the local middle school and everything.”

Jesus Christ, Beck, Bucky thinks as he gives his sister a look that he hopes conveys, For the love of God, shut up.

Becca does not shut up.

“I bet you guys would get along great,” Becca continues with a sly smirk in Bucky’s direction.

“What makes you say that?” Steve asks, clearly trying not to laugh at the two of them, and Bucky’s embarrassed but also glad that Steve is amused and not absolutely horrified by his little sister’s teasing.

“Just a hunch,” Becca winks, before standing and grabbing her plate. “I’m gonna go grab seconds and check in with Angela. You two have fun chatting.”

Bucky has no doubt that there’s a light flush coloring his cheeks as he looks up from his plate and meets Steve’s eyes.

“You all right?” Steve asks with a wry grin.

Bucky sighs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he says, “Yeah, I’d just like to apologize to you again. My little sister can be a little, uh, obvious when she thinks somebody’s my type.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his head to one side as he says, “Hate to break it to you, Bucky, but callin’ me pretty was fairly obvious, so that must run in your family or somethin’.”

Bucky just stares at Steve for a moment, completely unsure of what to say because, yeah, that hadn’t exactly been subtle, had it?

Steve startles Bucky from his thoughts by placing his hand gently over Bucky’s.

“Relax, Buck,” Steve says. “I didn’t mind.”

“Oh,” Bucky replies, trying to ignore the way his voice cracks. “Ok, good. Wouldn’t wanna make things awkward for you at your job, you know?”

Steve just laughs and tells Bucky to shut up and finish his burger.

Steve knows somebody’s in trouble as soon as he sees one little boy sprinting after another. The second child has stolen the first’s piece of cake, if Steve’s deciphering the nearly incoherent shouts of rage correctly.

He just doesn't expect for the kid holding the cake to trip on a root of the tree beneath which Steve’s standing. Or for the cake to go flying into the air. Or for it to land on his head.

But that’s exactly what happens.

For a moment, everything is still, as though the party is holding its collective breath as frosting drips down Steve’s face. And then it’s chaos.

“Oh my god,” Aileen cries as she hustles over toward Steve, ignoring the kids’ shouts and shrieks of laughter. “Aiden, Kyle go sit down right now. Steve, I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you get cleaned up.”

Steve’s about to reassure the woman that he can handle it, but then Bucky’s standing up and clearing his throat to get her attention.

“Let me take care of it, Aileen, really,” Bucky says. “Better if a real authority figure stays out here and talks to those boys.”

Aileen nods, thanking Bucky and telling him to take Steve to the upstairs bathroom so he won’t be disturbed - “second door on the left” - and then Bucky’s herding Steve inside.

“You know, I think I can find the bathroom myself,” Steve protests, but Bucky just takes his hand and drags him up the steps. Steve’d be lying if he said he’s not kind of enjoying the warmth of Bucky’s palm along with his firm grip.

“Yeah, you probably can, but I kind of need a break from the munchkins, and this feels like a pretty good excuse,” Bucky replies, and sure, Steve can understand that.

They reach the bathroom, and Bucky lets go of Steve’s hand. Steve misses the heat immediately.

“I’ll just wait out here while you get the icing outta your hair, all right?” Bucky says.

Steve nods, walking into the immaculate, white-tiled bathroom and pushing the door until it snaps closed. The Robinsons have one of those removable shower heads, thank god, so Steve simply kneels down on the blue bath mat at the edge of the tub and washes his hair.

He likes their shampoo; it smells like apples.

Once Steve has rinsed his hair and scrubbed his face, he towels himself dry. Then, he opens the door and motions for Bucky to walk through the frame.

“Do me a favor and let me know if I missed a spot or anything?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s smile is soft as he nods, motioning for Steve to do a little twirl so he can check the back of Steve’s head. Steve spins slowly, acutely aware of Bucky’s eyes on him.

Once Steve’s done a complete rotation, Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve’s arm, tugging him forward.

“Missed a spot,” Bucky murmurs, and holy shit, they’re standing very close, and Bucky’s hands are on him, and Steve can’t seem to breathe.

“Want me to get it?” Bucky asks, voice raspy and low, and there’s no trace of his earlier shyness, just a predatory sort of gleam in his stormy eyes.

Steve’s voice refuses to cooperate, so he just nods, breath hitching as Bucky leans closer.

Bucky’s finger brushes along the skin at the corner of Steve's lips, and Steve sees a trace of icing at the tip as Bucky pulls it back.

And Bucky's tongue is curling around the digit and sucking, his intense gaze never leaving Steve. It's a small miracle that he's standing so close to the sink because this little display has Steve’s knees buckling, and he has to grab the edge to stay on his feet.

Bucky seems to notice Steve’s predicament and wraps an arm securely around his waist, pulling him even closer.

“Shit,” Steve whispers as Bucky’s warm breath ghosts across his lips, unable to help the small shudder that wracks his body.

“I think you should kiss me,” Steve blurts, more than a little amazed that one, he’s actually just voiced that thought aloud, and two, that his voice is remarkably composed.

Bucky apparently doesn’t need to be told twice.

Bucky really likes the feel of Steve’s mouth moving soft and slow against his own. Likes the way Steve kind of sags into him, his small, yet long-fingered hands gripping Bucky’s shoulders tightly. Like the soft sounds slipping from Steve’s lips as they kiss.

Bucky breaks for air a moment later because the two of them have already been gone a while and if they keep going, Bucky’s not sure he’s going to be able to stop kissing Steve. He rests his forehead gently against Steve’s and listens to the blond try to catch his breath.

“How was that?” Bucky asks, liking the laugh Steve exhales.

“That was great,” Steve says. “This is turning out to be maybe the best birthday ever.”

Bucky jerks back, eyes narrowed as he surveys Steve.

“Party,” Steve amends quickly, eyes downcast as a blush suffuses his cheeks. “Best birthday party.”

Bucky can feel the slow smirk spreading across his lips as he presses Steve back against the sink, loving the gasp that leaves the blond’s kiss-swollen lips.

“Rogers,” Bucky begins, unable to hide the glee in his voice. “Is today your birthday, too?”

“Wh-what?” Steve stammers, whining as Bucky’s hands find his hips and squeeze. “No, of course not. Why would I be working on my birthday?”

“Don’t lie to me, Steve,” Bucky teases, leaning in and pressing open-mouthed kisses along Steve’s neck, relishing the way Steve arches up into him.

“Buck,” Steve groans as Bucky’s teeth graze the smooth skin of his throat. “Shit, ok, yes. Yes, it’s my birthday too. You happy?”

“Steve, I can’t imagine a scenario where I’d be happier than the one I’m in right now,” Bucky replies, as he pulls back and smiles down at Steve. “You should let me take you out after the party. As a birthday present.”

Bucky watches as Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, his lips parting slightly as Bucky takes a step back, giving Steve some breathing room.

“You-” Steve enunciates each word slowly- “want to take me out?”

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky replies, shoving his hands into his pockets with a shy smile as he prays Steve will agree to this. Bucky’d been pretty sure Steve would be the only thing occupying his thoughts tonight and that was before they’d kissed. All he wants is to be around the blond for as long as possible.

So he says so.

“I really would,” Bucky continues. “If, uh, if you’d be interested.”

For a moment, Steve’s brows furrow and Bucky’s stomach drops because that look suggests that the blond’s about to turn him down. Which would really, really suck.

Instead Steve says, “You don’t even know me, Buck.”

“You’re right,” Bucky replies, reaching out to brush Steve’s damp hair back from his forehead. “But I’d like to, Steve. If you’ll let me, that is.”

And suddenly Steve’s smiling so bright that Bucky’s chest actually aches.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, leaning up and catching Bucky’s lips in a quick kiss. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

Somehow managed to get a date with a guy helping out at this birthday party, Steve texts his roommates as the party begins to wind down and parents come to collect their children. Don’t wait up.

When Steve looks up from his phone, Bucky’s grinning and waving him over, and yeah, Steve’s reaction after that first kiss was dead on.

This is definitely the best birthday ever.

[hannahgoesabroad]

Thursday night brought with it an air of uncontainable excitement amongst the study abroad students: it was finally the night of the boat party. The rain refused to halt as my sizable motley crew of friends boarded the double-decker boat. The first floor had a bar and tables for people to sit and chat while the second floor had another bar as well as a dance floor. Towards the back of the boat, you could walk through a pair of doors that opened out onto a deck. People were out on the deck all night snapping pictures and taking in the gorgeous sights around them. A sense of calm was felt out on the deck, while inside the boat you would have thought that Penn State football had just won the National Championship! (It will happen next year, I already know it.) Our trip down the River Thames lasted around 3 hours, plopping us back onto solid ground right as the London nightlife was starting to pick up. 

Roundabout Pub was our next stop on the list for the night. The atmosphere of the crew was giddy as test tube shots slid down our throats and the music started pumping. Before we knew it we were already on our way back home to grab some of the famous food at Nando’s. After our delicious meal we all hit the sack, endlessly excited about all of the things we would be experiencing while studying abroad.

Friday morning soon came ‘round and there was only one thought in my mind: I needed a day of relaxation. With school starting on Monday and Saturday and Sunday being packed with pre-arranged activities, Friday was the day to do some local shopping and exploring. Twenty minutes away from my school is a big shopping area, with plenty of foreign brands, a few American brands sprinkled around. Primark is a company that just recently expanded to the U.S.. I would describe their clothing as great and unique fashions for affordable prices. You definitely wouldn’t be breaking the bank if you wanted to splurge a bit (or in my case, a lot) in this shop. (Sorry Dad, you probably shouldn’t look at your credit card statements anytime soon…) So off towards Primark I went with cash in hand and my friend Brenda in tow. Since Primark isn’t far away, you think it would be easy to get to, right? Think again. Two trains and a bus later we finally found ourselves in front of the Holy Grail. What a trip that was! We ended the night with cupcakes and Harry Potter (there’s really nothing better).

Saturday was the day my inner English nerd was finally allowed to appropriately show her true colors; it was tour day for Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. The tour provided a lot of information about the history of the theatre itself and how theatre in general has evolved since Shakespeare’s time. Did you know that the Globe theatre that’s currently standing in London is actually the THIRD Globe Theatre that has been built? If you want to be completely geographically accurate, it isn’t even in the same spot as the original Globe. The original theatre is in the middle of the river under a bridge located right next to where the current theatre stands. Shakespeare had little involvement in the production of the second theatre, and had absolutely nothing to do with the third Globe due to the fact he wasn’t even alive when it was built (aka 1997). So while it was a little disheartening to find out that Shakespeare hadn’t actually been in the theatre that currently stands, the fact that his ideas could still be deeply felt and heard throughout the levels of the Globe made it equally exciting if he had been there. 

Sunday Funday was packed with activities. By the end of the day, I accomplished getting a stadium tour of the famous Chelsea Football Club, seeing astonishing pieces of street art on an East End walking tour, and participating in the legendary Jack the Ripper tour.

The Chelsea F.C. stadium tour was fascinating; seeing inside the locker rooms and walking out of the tunnel onto the field was invigorating. I felt a sudden deep nostalgia for my childhood filled with sports, one of my favorites always being soccer. Putting myself in the shoes of some of the most famous players in the world was insane; I suddenly thought, “And why am I at school when I could definitely be participating in the World Cup?! Oh wait…” My feet carried me to the edge of the field, where grass turned to turf. The urge to run onto the field became unfathomable, but I knew if I attempted it a video of me would most certainly turn up on Youtube, no doubt being chased and eventually taken down by some big burly security guards. With a sadness, I turned myself around and slunk back to the rest of my group, struggling to accept the fact that my professional soccer career would never happen (hard to swallow, honestly).

The East End walking tour was something I had been mildly excited for, but had really only joined because I wanted to meet new people. Turns out, this was one of my most favorite things I’ve done so far in London. Walking around a different part of the city and getting to see the busy Sunday markets and feel the multiple different energies was something else. Our guide was extremely informative; you could see the passion on his face when talking about the different street artists and their works. One of my favorite parts of the tour: I finally got to see a Banksy work in person! For those who don’t know who he is, Banksy is one of the most famous street artists of all time. He’s stayed anonymous for decades, creating art designed to get humans to think about the bigger pictures in life. Check out his work online, you won’t regret it. While we took a look at big street artists like Banksy and Robbo, we did stop to appreciate some artists who are still up and coming in the art world. One of the designs in particular that we saw, our tour guide didn’t even know who the artist was. It had just recently been put up, and the attention it was garnering was massive. Crowds began to grow around the ‘grafitti’ making it almost impossible to reach our next destination (one that I was overly excited for). A famous donut shop and bagel shop stood side by side down the street from the new art work. Making a beeline for the bagel shop (spelled ‘beigal’ on the door sign), I quickly got in line and order a donut and chocolate croissant. Only 1.30 pounds less in change, I walked out into the cold with my two warm purchases. Scarfing down the donut, I packed away the croissant for my morning breakfast. The art tour ended, with the fantastic guide telling us multiple stories of Banksy pranks and how the artist still manages to elude discovery to this day.

My favorite part of the day began at 7p.m. that night. Jack the Ripper tour! As the night grew later, the East End of London turned from a bustling neighborhood full of people to a ghost town, effectively transporting us back to the year 1888. The atmosphere grew tense and fearful as our tour guide took us to different places around the East End, including some of the scenes of the murders committed by Jack the Ripper. The mystery surrounding the serial killer coupled with the gruesomeness of the crimes put every member of the group on edge. Even after the tour ended, I found myself online trying to find any information I could that would lead to a definitive killer. Alas, just like the FBI detectives assigned to the case, I found nothing conclusive. Laying in bed on Sunday night, the thoughts of murder and prostitution in 1888 drifted out of my mind, and in came thoughts of Monday morning: the first day of classes. 

Barely getting two sips of coffee down, I rushed to my first and only class of the day, conveniently located on the first floor of my housing building. The usual first day of class jitters set in the moment I sat down. Luckily, my teacher swiftly ran through the syllabus and released us, leaving time for me to do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day. That brings me to the current moment: sitting in a café while typing all of my memories down.

More updates to come as the week progresses; I’m sure I’ll have tons to say about all of my English professors. Thanks for reading!

Signing off,

Hannah