#nobody gets suspicious of their origins - there are a lot of t's to cross and i's to dot.

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 7 / 31 * BACK IN TOWN 」

April 13, 1989, 23:51

1646 Riverside Drive

Marty had barely registered the walk in the evening air, his body functioning on autopilot to lead him to his second home, the place he thinks he could navigate to in his sleep. At this hour, not even the birds are awake, and Marty feels the stake of loneliness drive deeper and deeper into his very soul.

Doc should be here, he thinks as he steals the key from its usual hiding spot under the mat. This is where he’d greet me and ask what happened that brought me all the way out here at this hour.

The rhythmic ticking of Doc’s clocks is the only thing that greets him now.

The door screams into the darkness as it swings open and Marty makes a mental note to oil those hinges the next time he comes around. The old garage feels hollow without Doc’s larger-than-life presence filling it and his shoulders sag as he trudges to the couch, plopping himself down on it with a sigh that ages him twelve years.

His home feels like a prison. Jennifer’s asleep by now. He needed somewhere—anywhere—to be and before all this, before this new and improved timeline with a family that pays too much attention and smiles and laughs together so much it’s still a little unsettling, he would come here to escape from the world.

Even without Doc here, he still finds himself doing that. 

Maybe one day he’ll come back.

I’ve got a million and one things to tell you, Doc. I wish you were here.

I hope you’re doing okay back there.

He’d checked religiously that first month after coming home for another tombstone popping up in Boot Hill Cemetery, his heart leaping into his throat every time he walked from one to the next, terrified that everything he did was for nothing—that in the end, Doc was fated to die and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it now.

November came and went, the names on the tombstones never changed, and after that, Marty had allowed himself to check less and less frequently, limiting his visits to once a week, then once every two weeks until there had been only one visit per month.

Doc was still alive and well and Marty breathed a little easier, finding some small comfort in that fact. At least he wasn’t alone. Clara was back there with him, sharing in the moments of Doc’s life that Marty couldn’t be there for.

All he has left are ghosts of his best friend frozen here in time in this garage, collecting dust.

The time machine plans are safe, even if they’re all but useless now. He’d picked up a thing or two from Doc over the years in the sciences, enough to where he could keep up until he started speaking a second language, diving into fourth-dimensional mechanics that admittedly made his head spin. Three dimensions he understood fine. Four, however, made things confusing—it turned everything on its head, leaving him floundering to try and keep up.

The space-time continuum.

N-dimensional space.

What isn’t yet will be and what is never was.

Sometimes, he thinks about laying out every one of Doc’s meticulously kept notes across every available square inch of his room and burning the formulas into his eyes until something finally clicks into place, allowing him to recreate his best friend’s genius.  

Doc had wanted the time machine destroyed—Doc made sure the time machine was destroyed, stranding Marty in a reality without him—but if he stares long and hard enough, he could do it, he could reconstruct it, he could get Doc back—

Sometimes, he wants to throw the entire box into a blazing fire and watch until time crumples before his very eyes, reduced to nothing more than dust and a dream. Time-travel fixed his life. Time-travel had thrown him to hell and back, threatened his existence, warped his entire perception of the world, leaving him a stranger in a strange land he’s only still learning how to navigate, and now it had stolen his best friend from him and ensured that Marty would never see him again.

Tonight is one of those nights where he curses time-travel, where the reality of his and Doc’s situation hit harder than normal, throwing him into a dark cavern he bloodies his hands trying to crawl out of.

“I wish I’d never invented that infernal time machine. It’s caused nothing but disaster.”

—Me too, Doc. Then at least you’d still be here.

April 14, 1989, 01:31

The sound of a mechanical scream rouses Marty from his unintentional slumber with a start and the adrenaline now coursing through his veins makes quick work of any lingering sleep in his eyes and mind. He squints under the lights and grabs for the first thing within reach—a broken piece of pipe Doc had been using for one of his old experiments—preparing himself for the worst.

“Stay back, whoever you are! I’m warning you!”

An all-too-familiar shriek roots Marty where he stands.

“D—” The word catches in his throat and Marty runs through every prayer he knows that he’s not imagining this. “Doc? Is that you?”

Doc recovers in the blink of an eye, turning to face Marty with a bright grin on his face. “Marty! I didn’t think you’d be here—what are you doing here a—you know what, never mind that for now. I’m so happy to see you, Marty. It’s been so long.”

The pipe tumbles out of Marty’s stunned hands and he rubs at his eyes, half-convinced the illusion will disappear right before his eyes and break his heart all over again. Doc is still there, blurred slightly at the edges, and Marty lunges forward, grabbing his best friend in a back-breaking hug.

“Doc, I can’t b—how are you here? I thought I’d never see you again.”

Doc returns the hug with more strength than Marty remembers him having and he grunts slightly, wishing the moment to stretch an eternity to make up for the last four years.

After a beat, Doc breaks the hug, holding him at arm’s length with his hands firmly pressed on his shoulders. Marty knows that look; it’s that same conspiratorial you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you look Doc wore that night at the mall when he’d unveiled the DeLorean.

“We’re moving back to the Twentieth Century. I’m here to check on a few things.”

His breath catches. “You’re—that’s great, Doc, that’s—you mean it? You’re really coming back?”

“That’s right. We’ve still got several things to sort out, but once everything is taken care of, we’ll be moving here. We’ve come to the decision that it’s too potentially dangerous to stay in the Nineteenth Century for the rest of our lives.”

“Wait a minute, Doc—who is we?”

[ladykatakuri]

What`s in a Name

The Bad Batch ( complete with Crosshair and Omega )

Rating: General

Word Count: 2326

Warnings: None, it is a family story about names. There is an OC in here that was part of the group as cadets though!

Summary: “So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

Notes: This is something i have been thinking about and decided to write because it is just fun. How did they get their names and how do they feel about it? Omega would know a lot about the guys from her time on Kamino, but i am pretty sure that information about how they got their unique names was not deemed important by either the Empire or the Kaminoans so it would not be included in any official report. Their names might be, only to serve as information when dealing with outsiders on missions, but that is about it.

“So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

For a moment the men in front of her look surprised. They have their own unique names and they have had them for a long, long time now. Nobody ever asked how they got them and even among regs it was not something that was important. Afterall, out of all of the clones, Clone Force 99 was different and the regs were not sure what to make of them.

“Well kiddo, I got my name as a cadet on Kamino when I was part of the Domino squad. You know we get our names from our brothers, most of the time right?” Echo looks at Omega, who had turned to look at him as he began to speak.

“Yes I know.” Omega nods and crosses her legs to sit in a more comfortable way, ready to listen to the stories behind the names.

“Well, we were not a very well oiled machine when we started out and our personalities shaped us and gave us our names. I became Echo after they began to complain how I would echo all the orders we had gotten.” He chuckles as he thinks back to those times he spent with the squad, how they went from being a chaotic bunch to a well tuned group of brothers that could take on the entire galaxy, or so it felt to them. “Fives especially loved to name people and he was the first to come up with Echo. I guess that it stuck with me from that moment on.” The recollection of how he had gotten his name has him feel somewhat nostalgic, longing for those times to be revived once more, but most of all to have his closest friend and brother back so he could talk to him again.

Understanding how this memory of old has affected him, Omega turns to the next man she wants to hear from.

Tech, still standing, leaning against the wall while tinkering with yet another project, notices the silence and looks up. “Ah, I suppose it is not much of a mystery how I got my name. After all, the names we clones have mostly symbolize some aspect of our own character. It would be more surprising if we had completely normal human names instead of designations that would suit our abilities or achievements.”

Nodding to the explanation, Omega looks at the man in front of her. “That is true Tech, but sometimes the name is not as obvious or maybe even surprising in it`s origin.”

Surprised by her logical reasoning, Tech smiles. “You are correct, but my name is no surprise. From the moment we were trained as cadets, it was very clear that my mutation had given me a high intelligence and I had a knack for technology. Because I was always working on computers and other tech while learning about anything and everything else, people started to call me that tech kid or that tech weirdo. From that point on I decided to take part of the name and just go by Tech and it is what I have been called ever since.” For his brothers, who knew him well enough, it was clear that despite his bravado, it still stung at times when he thought back to the name calling and how they had all been shunned by the regulars who were not different from all their other batch mates and brothers. Thankfully, as they aged, they also became stronger both physically and mentally and Tech grew immensely in both ways.

As Tech went back to tinkering with whatever he was working on, Omega turned to the next of her family. Only to notice a strong glare coming from the man that has never been one for stories, or many words for that matter. Crosshair just looked at her with his toothpick shoved to the corner of his mouth. Omega grinned at him as she focused her full attention on him.

With a grumble he replaces his toothpick with a new one and relaxes his shoulders for a moment. “Fine. I didn't have much physical strength at first. So I trained a lot when we were cadets and when we did blaster training they realized I was a crack shot. I trained harder and realized it was damn easy to shoot targets, no matter where they were or where I was. I became the best and during some physical testing they realized my eyesight only improved. I got special sniper training and physical training that would enhance all my skills and that is how they started to call me Crosshair.” Crossing his arms was his way of showing that story time was now over and he resumed chewing his toothpick as his attention went to his brother sitting on the floor next to him.

“You forgot to mention why the regs began to call you Crosshair for real though.” Nudging the sniper with his elbow, Wreckers laugh beamed through the hull of the Marauder. “The regs would always try to bully us, anyway they could. You know, because we are different. One night, they pushed Tech and cornered him, ready for a beating and Crosshair locked in on the one that hit him. He was standing pretty far off but he hit that guy good with his dinner plate! Hah! The reg didn`t know what hit him!” Still laughing, thinking back to how the reg fell on his back, surprised by the dinner plate that came flying from across the hallway, Wrecker wheezes as he once more nudges Crosshair against the leg. That's when they started to call him Crosshair. Cuz when he has you in his crosshairs, you are never getting out of it!”

Omega laughs as loud as Wrecker does at the story. “That is awesome! But how did you get your name Wrecker?”

“Well kid, not because I destroyed everything or something. I mean, I didn't always wreck stuff when I was a cadet.” The huff coming from Crosshair stops him from talking for a second. “Hey! I didn't Crosshair! That was later….. You see kiddo, as a cadet I was pretty careful with everything. I mean, I was already pretty big, bigger than others, and also pretty strong, so I had to be careful what I did. Then this bounty hunter came and he was supposed to train us or something. Well, he was just a kriffing jerk about it and he made fun of us all the time. Hunter told us to stay calm and not let it get to us or something, but that guy was a nasty piece of work. He changed the training program so it was way more difficult than other cadets had to do. Hunter got hurt badly when he tried to shield me and I went mad after that. I mean, the guy was laughing about it! So, I lost control and wrecked the training room trying to get to that guy. The regs heard all about it and started to call me Wrecker as an insult. But Hunter told me to use it as a name because it shows how strong I am when I protect my family.” Beaming with pride he looks at Hunter. “I guess it was Hunter that really made it my name then.”

Hunter nods at Wrecker, a low chuckle escapes him when he thinks back at the times his brothers had gotten their names. Sure, they had pretty difficult, or better said, hard times as cadets, but at least they had each other and that was the only thing that truly mattered anyway. Knowing that he would have to tell the story of how he came to be Hunter he turns towards the young girl that has been listening to it all while snacking on some Mantel Mix.

“I guess I am the last one to tell you about my name.”

Omega already settled to listen to his recollection of the time he became Hunter, nods and grins.

“Well, I guess it is mostly because of my heightened senses that people expected me to be a good tracker, what they did not expect was that I would also become a true hunter.” For a moment he closes his eyes as his mind takes him back to the exact moment and he seems to hesitate.

“You know….. that squads consist of a minimum of four clones but most times there are more in a squad, right?” He looks down at Omega who just popped a piece of mix in her mouth. Chewing, she nods at him. “Yup, i know.”

“Our squad was supposed to have some more members…….” Realizing that the full truth would be revealed to Omega, the others shuffle in their places. Echo, though not an original member of the group, knows the story and understands it is not an easy memory to share.

Tech stops tinkering for a moment and looks at Hunter. A small nod at his sarge and he continues his work.

“Tsk.” It is the only sound that comes from Crosshair, who glares at Omega, for the audacity she has dragging it all up and for Hunter who allowed it.

Wrecker, the most gentle of them all, swallows as he suspiciously turns his head for a moment. When he turns back, his eyes seem to have been wiped dry and he smiles at both Hunter and Omega as approval.

“We have desirable mutations. Something that the Kaminoans would try to add to the newer generations of clones that were bred on Kamino. But changing the genetic makeup of a living being does not always work out well. Tech could explain it al in greater detail.” He holds up his hand to stop his brother, who already looked up, ready to go into greater details about genetic mutations and enhancements and how tinkering with it could have negative or even destructive effects on the subjects.

“Some did not survive outside of the pods used to accelerate age or the treatments to enhance our abilities. In the end our squad consisted of five survivors that could be trained.”

The mentioning of the squad consisting of five members has Omega perk up for a second. This was news to her, though she expected that Nala Se had not told her every single detail about all the members of her favorite squad of clones. Especially not when it became clear she was more interested in this small group than any of the other groups.

“Bug was the last one to die on Kamino, but not from the changes that were made to his genetic makeup. He died in an accident, or that is what the rapport stated. We knew that some of the regs wanted to teach him a lesson. Bug was always curious about other people and would bug them with questions on anything that caught his attention. It annoyed some of the others. They altered a training program and disabled the safety protocol, thinking it would only wound him. But bug, training his blaster skills at that time, was shot by one of the training droids, in the chest. He did not make it…….” Hunter stops there and looks at Omega. “You remind me of him.”

Omega, touched by the remark, softly smiles and nods at Hunter, indicating to him to continue his story.

“When we heard what happened to Bug, we did not believe it was an accident. Bug might have been absent minded at times, but he would never forget to turn on the safety protocols. Tech hacked the systems and found out what really happened. I guess that is the moment I started to earn my name. I hunted the regs responsible for what happened and we taught them a lesson. We didn't kill them, but they knew never to mess with any of us ever again.”

Omega, emotional from the story she was told just now, stands up and dashes over to Hunter. Throwing her arms around him she hugs him tightly. “I`m so sorry Hunter! I didn't want to make you all sad. I just thought it would be fun to hear how you all got your names.” With a sob she pushes her head into his chest, close to crying.

Hunter gently wraps his arms around her for comfort. “It`s ok Omega. Don`t worry about it.”

Wrecker, standing up, moves towards his little sister and pats her on the head. “Don`t worry kid! It was nice to think about Bug too ya know? He was fun to have around.”

Tech, finally done with tinkering with his latest project walks by as he mentions something about checking the auto pilot. A soft pat on her shoulder to tell her not to worry about it as well is all the comfort she needs from him at that time.

Crosshair, not a man to show many emotions, especially when it comes to Omega says nothing as he walks past them. The only surprising action is a quick, soft smile for her as he looks at the young girl still wrapped around Hunter.

Echo puts his hand on her shoulder as he turns her around. “Come on kid. Let's give Hunter a chance to breathe while we go and grab some food for dinner.”

With a final warm smile for Hunter, Omega nods and turns around to leave the hull and join Echo in preparing some food for their dinner. She asked for a story and had gotten more then she expected. Just a little more of the personalities of the men she came to see as her true family, the men she loved even before they met and that she wished to be with for the remainder of her life.

@loth-wolffe@nahoney22@hellothere-generalangsty@reluctant-mandalore@moonstrider9904@chaoticvampirejedi

[ve1vetyoongi]

Operation: Love Letters | 01

💌 CHAPTER INDEX 💌

♡ ⇢ pairing: ot7 x reader.

♡ ⇢ chapter word count: 5k

♡ ⇢ genre: mystery, college!au, romance, fluff, eventual smut.

♡ ⇢ warnings/rating: none, PG.

♡ ⇢ summary: When every student on campus is going crazy about a survey that claims to make true love bloom, your best friend manages to convince you to join in on the fun — except you’re disappointed to find out that your results just seem to be lost causes. That is until a love letter from a mysterious secret admirer turns up and you find yourself on a mission to find the person behind the pen — but you quickly realise it’s going to be a lot harder than you initially thought when you have 7 possible bachelors to investigate, right? Operation: Love Letters a-go!

♡ ⇢ schedule: updated every day at 5pm GMT in the run up to Valentine’s Day 2020!

💌 A/N: hello! i’ve been working on this series for a couple weeks now and it makes me so happy to finally be able to share it in the run up to valentines day! as the story progresses, there’ll be a ton of clues dropped about who the identity of the secret admirer is before the final reveal...so keep reading to find out! i hope you like it hehe, drop me an ask and lemme know your theories!! <3

Sign up for the Love Calculator today in the gym and find your perfect match, just in time for Valentine's day!

You scoff as you read the flier you crumple in your hand. It's that time of year again, huh? February. Valentine's. The month of love.

Yeah right.

Every year your college holds a charity event for Valentines day. You fill out a survey nicknamed the Love Calculator, where you answer so called "deep" questions about yourself and most importantly what you look for in a Valentine's date — and then a computer analyses your answers and, for just a couple bucks, works some cupid style magic and matches you up with your ‘most compatible’ person on campus.

The instructions say you're supposed to send a love letter to your number one match. And if they respond? Then it's a match made in heaven! Insert eye roll here.

It's conceited really, just a ploy to draw money out of the student body with the promise of true love — which is exactly why you've never joined in with the hype before.

Until this year, that is, when your best friend Jimin, ever the hopeless romantic, managed to convince you to sign up. Which is how you find yourself in the gymnasium, surrounded by heart shaped balloons and the cheesy cover of I Wanna Know What Love Is that plays over head, stuffed into a booth as you fold up your survey and scribble your name on the front with a roll of your eyes.

Jimin's beanie falls across his face as he excitedly rummages around in the satchel slung across his torso to fish around for a pencil, hopping from foot to foot as he places delicate crosses in the boxes beside Male and Looking for a soulmate.

"I still don't know about this." You murmur as you tap your foot and stare down at the pink piece of paper in your hand, nerves brewing inside you for a reason you can't quite put your finger on. There’s a reason you’ve never done this before -- what if you get someone weird as your first match? Or worse what if you aren’t compatible with anyone at all and you find out you’re destined to be painfully alone forever?

This is definitely a bad idea. You should just rip your survey up right now and throw it in the trash and nobody would ever have to know you even came here, even if just to entertain your best friend's fantasies.

But Jimin is too fast, snatching it from your fingers before you can protest and pulling you gleefully by the elbow over to the Calculation Station where he slides both of your surveys over to the cheerleader manning the desk with a dazzling smile, all much to your dismay.

"Oh come on, lighten up!" He says, clasping his hands together wistfully as he eagerly watches the cheerleader input your data into the computer. "This is gonna be so fun! Who knows? Maybe I'll match someone really hot and we'll get married and adopt the cutest babies ever--."

"Or you could match with a crazy serial killer." You interrupt with a raise of your brow.

Jimin shrugs. "I guess that would suck, but it would make an awesome Netflix Original. I'd totally get famous and win an oscar and—” He drags you over to the counter when he notices the cheerleader beckoning you with a finger. “Too late now anyway, our results are ready!"

The printer beside the desk spits out two pieces of paper, and the cheerleader glances over them with a nod before folding them up carefully and handing them over to you with a wink.

"Have a good day, and don't forget to spread the love!" She says, and you offer her a sheepish smile as you take your results.

Jimin is already pulling you out of the gym and into the hallway, finding a quiet corner where he eagerly unfolds his page with a grin that falls right from his face when he reads the names littered across his page surrounded by a plethora of hearts.

"What the heck! Are you kidding me?" Jimin thrusts his results beneath your nose so you can read the names for yourself. "I got Park Chanyeol as my number one match?"

You bite back a laugh. Jimin and Chanyeol had a fling last summer, but it ended on a sour note when Chanyeol ended up being allergic to Jimin's pet kitten who he refused to part with for anyone, no matter how hot.

"Maybe it was meant to be after all?" You laugh as Jimin crumples up his results and throws them into a nearby trash can with a childish pout.

"You were right. It was dumb. I would've been better off matching with a serial killer." Jimin grumbles, shoulders slumping forward as his dreams of true love crumble. He perks up when he notices you wringing your own results in your hands though, paper still sealed tightly. "Come on, your turn! Let's see who you got."

"Maybe I should just throw this in the trash, too. You said it yourself, the survey was dumb anyway." You shrug.

"Nope. I'm not letting you get away that easily." Jimin clasps his hands together, looking up at you with a pout. "Please? For me?"

You have to admit, there’s a strange fluttery feeling in your stomach as you turn the paper over in your hands. Who knows? Maybe Jimin was right, and the love of your life’s name was printed right on this here paper, and you were wasting your chance. 

To hell with it! What's the worst that could happen, right?

"Fine! I'll open it."

Jimin claps giddily and with strangely shaky hands you unfold the paper, Jimin crowding around with his chin on your shoulder so you can both read your results.

Wow. You gaze down at the list of names you've never even heard of, strangely disheartened. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but this is not exactly the life changing love story you were promised when you handed over five bucks to that cheerleader just now.

You can't help but feel your stomach drop. Are you seriously disappointed? It's not like you had high hopes for this thing in the first place.

"Well damn," You crumple up the paper and drop it into your backpack with a chuckle, joining the hustle and bustle of students walking to class. "That was totally a waste of time."

Jimin pats your shoulder reassuringly. "Hey, you never know, someone could get your name and send you a love letter."

You raise your brows. "I appreciate the positivity but I don't think that's very likely."

“Don’t be such a downer! It’s the month of love after all.” Jimin slows down, heading towards the bathrooms. "I'll catch you up okay? All this excitement made me need to pee!" And with that he disappears into the little boy's room with an air kiss sent your way.

With a fond shake of your head you head towards your locker, thumbing in your combination and lurching open the metal door -- but your forehead furrows when something small and pink unexpectedly floats out and lands beside your feet.

"Huh?"

You bend down, fingers curling around a pearly pink envelope, eyes widening when you see who it's addressed to. You.

You turn it over in your hands, glancing side to side with narrowed eyes, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Could this be what you think it is? A love letter? Only one way to find out...

Your thumb slides beneath the heart shaped wax seal, hands trembling as you shake out the note folded up neatly inside and let your eyes fly across the messy words scrawled in pink pen with a gasp.

Your heart thumps. Your shaky fingers have left crumples along the edges of the paper, and you know you should throw it away before you even entertain the idea that this is real, let alone meant for you.

But your eyes keep tracing the pen strokes, the neat and even but unsteady handwriting; a nervous hand wrote this letter, you realise. A boy's hand. The letters are slanted just enough to tell, and there's smudges of ink where their wrist dragged carelessly across the page.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

You jump at the sound of your name and shove the letter between the pages of a text book before slamming your locker closed just in time to flash your best friend what you hope is as close to a non-suspicious smile as you can muster as he bounds up the hall towards you.

"You ready to go to class?" Jimin asks, holding out his elbow and you nod. "It's a shame about the Love Calculator results huh? But who knows! Maybe we'll find Valentine's some other way."

"Yeah." You nod with a small smile, lost in thought as your mind drifts back to the love letter stowed away in your locker. "Maybe."

A smile appears on your lips. Maybe your results aren't so useless after all.

"From your secret admirer..."

You finish reading the love letter you found addressed to you in your locker with a triumphant smile, expecting a far more enthusiastic reaction from your roommate Yoongi. who just peers at you over the lid of his laptop with a bored expression.

"That's it?" He blinks. "You really paid five bucks for that?" He offers you a roll of his eyes as he watches you dance around your apartment waving around a piece of pink paper excitedly. "They didn't even leave their name?"

"Well duh," You slump down beside him on the couch, clutching the note to your chest and sending him an eye roll. "That would defeat the purpose of a secret admirer."

Yoongi just scoffs and goes back to his work with a shake of his head. "I can't believe you even did that stupid Love Caluclator thing. It's probably just a scam, anyway."

You pout, smoothing out the corners of the letter attentively. "You're just jealous nobody sent you a love letter." 

Yoongi crosses his arms, flustered. "Am not! For your information I didn't even do the survey. Why would I care about what the results of a dumb survey have to say, anyway?"

You cock your head at him and dangle your results in front of his face teasingly. "Oh, so you won’t want to know who I matched with then if it's so dumb?"

He narrows his eyes with a puff, before snatching the paper with a shake of his head. "Fine. But only because you insisted."

You watch with a smug smile as Yoongi drags his finger down the list, distaste etched into his features as he reads each name out loud in turn before he splutters around the very last one.

"Hold up. You got me?" He chokes, holding up the page and pointing to where his name is printed in bold pink letters. Yoongi averts his eyes when you bust out laughing, crumpling up the paper and lobbing it at you with a scoff. "What did I tell you? It's dumb."

You clutch your sides and prod him with your foot as he grumbles under his breath. "Why? I thought you weren't scared of what a silly little survey has to say?"

"I'm not scared. Like I said, it's clearly a scam." Yoongi's cheeks heat up and he flashes you a look that tells you to quit teasing. "And this proves it."

"Oh don't get so worked up, Yoongi. I'm just messing with you." You unfold the paper and point to the biography beneath his name. "It says here we're only 10% compatible anyway, which kinda makes sense when you think about it. I'm a pretty decent roommate after all, right?"

Yoongi pushes away your results and buries his nose in a textbook instead. "You're being a pretty annoying roommate right now."

"Hey! Can you at least concentrate on this for a second? My love life finally gets interesting and you decide to do homework?"

Yoongi slams his book shut and finally turns to face you. "Jeez, Y/N, how can you even be sure the love letter isn't just...a prank or something? You're probably just wasting my time and your own getting caught up in it."

"Wow, you really have no faith in me huh?" You roll your eyes. "Because I just know. Whoever wrote this letter wanted me to read it. They left it in my locker on purpose! Is it so bad that I wanna know why?"

"Next thing I know you'll tell me you're going to actually try and find this person." Yoongi laughs breathily, but when he sees how you stare at him, arms crossed and unblinking, he lets out a groan. "Wait. You can't be serious?"

"Well why not?" You shrug. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"How do you even plan on finding them? All you have is a crumpled up note and a list of matches."

"Honestly, I haven't thought that far yet..." It's then that Yoongi turns the page of his textbook and a folded up note flutters onto the carpet. "Wait...what's this?"

He just shrugs, not even bothering to look up as you open up the paper. "I don't know. Must have been inside that book."

"Is it yours?"

Yoongi shakes his head, leaning back in his seat to stretch like he's exhausted by your interrogation. "Taehyung checked it out of the library this morning. He said I could borrow it. Why?"

Your eyes widen when you see what is written on the piece of paper in front of you.

"Hey! Look at this." You punch Yoongi in the shoulder, ignoring his ow! to run your fingers over the pen marks on the paper. "Don't the scribbles seem familiar to you?"

Yoongi rubs his arm with a bored expression. "I mean, I guess?"

"Goddammit, Min Yoongi! Would you take this seriously?" You fumble around in your pocket for the love letter, placing them side by side on the table, heart skipping a beat when you take in the similarities between the two. "Take a look at the handwriting. It's totally written by the same guy!"

Yoongi's own eyes widen, pursing his lips as he nods. "So what? Now you know he had a Bio quiz last week. Hundreds of students sat that test."

A smile grows on your face as an idea strikes you, and you rip the book from his grip. "Yeah, but how many of those students took out this exact book from the library?"

"I don't know — probably a few — hey!" He reaches for you as you get to your feet, but he's too late, and you're already taking off with his textbook. "Where are you going with that! I need to study!"

"I'll be back in a few hours, I promise." You call as you slip on your shoes and slide the book into your backpack."I just need to get to the bottom of who sent me this love letter first!"

It's almost silent in the campus library when you arrive, apart from the scratch of pens against paper from students with their heads bent over text books and the repetitive classical music that floats through the book shelves like a calming wave.

You head over to the check out desk in search of some guidance, perhaps able to interrogate the poor kid on duty about what he knows about the text book, but it's empty, and no matter how many times you ring the little bell on the counter, nobody comes.

With a sigh you duck behind the closest towering book case, dumping your bag so you can get down to business by yourself. Even if you had to search high and low, you had to find where this book came from. Surely it would give you a clue as to who sent you the love letter, right?

Blowing dust off an old stack of books, you drag your finger across the spines until you reach the B section, tongue between your teeth as you mindlessly thumb through books on Baking and Beaches and Birds before you come to a stop where you should come across Biology...except all that you find is a gaping hole that matches perfectly with the size and shape of book in your hands.

Dang. Already a dead end? Maybe Yoongi was right...hundreds of people could've checked out this book so this was probably a dumb clue anyway.

You're about to give up when a flash of a red sweater catches your eye through the gap in the shelf. There in the corner sits a lanky boy, so tall his legs stick out from beneath the desk he inhabits by the window. His fingers play with a silver pen, but he's not interested in the open notebook perched in front of him with lines half filled, too busy wiping away the condensation on the glass and gazing out at the hustle and bustle of the city in rush hour that juxtaposes the quiet company of books and dust he resides among.

Huh. Something strikes you about this dude, but you can’t quite put your finger on it yet. You duck behind the book shelf, moving a couple books to the side so you can peer between the leather spines to get a better look, and it's then that you notice the text book propped open beside him — Biology 101 — an exact copy of the one tucked beneath your elbow.

"Do you need help with something?"

You jolt when a pair of dark eyes appear and stare right back at you through the gap in the bookshelf, making you drop  the textbook with a crash that elicits a series of harsh shhh! sounds from nearby. Upon further inspection you quickly realise it's the same guy you were spying on just moments ago, staring at you intently now as you stammer to form a response.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on people?" You grumble, clutching your chest and dipping down to grab the book and simultaneously hide your burning cheeks.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He says, notebook deserted on the table behind him now so he can peer at you curiously through the shelves with a smirk. "It's just you looked sorta lost so I thought I'd offer my assistance."

He points to the name tag pinned to his sweater with a grin. Kim Namjoon — Librarian. Hold up...where have you heard that name before?

Oh god...you totally got his name in the Love Calculator Survey! Awkward.

It's okay, maybe he doesn't recognise you...

"It's Y/N, right?" He says as he straightens the books you knocked down earlier and thrusts a hand through the shelf for you to shake.

Dang it.

"That's me..." You take his hand with a sheepish smile, eager to escape the situation by walking to the end of the book case, but he just follows you, eyes bobbing above the spines of old books. "Wait..this might sound weird, but you don't know that because you happened to send me an anonymous letter do you?"

"Uh..." He's much taller when you finally step out of the aisle and come face to face, and he peers down at you intrigued but with confusion still evident in his voice. "No?"

Phew.

"Good to know. Just checking." He seems to find your rambling funny, biting back a smile as you jerk the Bio text book towards him. "Then uh, yeah, actually. I do need help. Have you seen this before?"

He scans the front, nodding his head slowly. "Biology 101. Yup, I've seen it. I might be wrong but I think that probably came from the science aisle."

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm. "No, I mean, have you seen it anywhere suspicious. Like someone shady reading it in a dark corner or smuggling it out of the library like drug cartel—"

"Nope. Pretty sure I saw a guy with blue hair check it out this morning though if that's who you're looking for?"

Taehyung. Damn it!

"Not quite." You cross your arms with a sigh before an idea strikes you. "Hey, is there any way you can see who checked this book out before?"

"I mean, yeah." Namjoon lifts the hatch of the check out desk and slips behind, flipping the book open to the first page and typing a couple numbers into the computer. "If I just scan this barcode..." You watch as he scans the book and turns the monitor towards you so you can watch as a document loads up. "It should give us a list of people who checked it out this semester."

An involuntary gasp leaves you when you read the list of names that pops up on the screen, eyes wide as you lower your voice to a whisper. "Is there any way I could get a copy of this?"

"Yeah, sure." Namjoon hits a button and the printer beside him spits out a mirror image of the document on his screen. You snatch it up with a breathy laugh, shoving it into your backpack and fishing around for your phone, thumbs moving across the screen at the speed of light to punch in a phone number you know by heart.

It quickly dawns on you that this mystery might be bigger than you ever expected -- and you wouldn’t be able to solve it alone. No. It was time to bring in the big guy. Park Jimin.

"Nah this shit is legit legit!" Jimin splutters as he flops back onto your bed. He's still in his cheer costume, rushing over to your place as soon as practice ended and he got the SOS call, and he let's out a gasp as his wide eyes scan the love letter for the nth time.

"So you'll help me find out who wrote it?"

"Duh. You know I love a mystery and a cheesy romcom story arc. You're, like, totally going to marry this guy and live happily every after." Jimin clutches his chest, eyes dreamy as he peers at you over the rim of his round lens glasses. "And if you don't I totally will!"

"Hey!" Jimin erupts into a fit of giggles when you launch a throw cushion at his face. "This isn't a movie, Park. I just wanna know who sent it. Ya know...for clarity." You wrinkle your nose when Jimin's narrowed eyes prod you to admit otherwise. Of course you weren’t actually interested in this love letter guy. Right? "Don't look at me like that! It's probably just some stupid prank anyway..."

You hug your torso with a frown. What if Yoongi was right and this was just a wild goose chase and you were falling right into the clutches of the perpetrator? What if instead of a secret admirer the love letter trail led to nothing but humiliation?

"Well there's only one way to find out." Jimin jumps to his feet, pacing the room for a few seconds with his hand on his chin before an idea strikes him and he starts and ripping down the schedules and homework reminders from the pinboard above your desk like a man possessed. “We have to get to the bottom of this mystery ASAP. And lucky for you, you’ve got me to help you.”

"How?" You inquire, watching curiously as he rummages through your drawers to retrieve a pot of push pins and a ball of red string that you just so happened to have lying around. Without further ado, he rips the cap off a pink sharpie to scrawl Operation: Love Letters in big letters at the top of a sticky note, pinning it in the center.

"It's certainly not environmentally friendly, but I've always wanted to make a murder board...although I suppose this is more of a romance board?" He lays out the pieces of evidence you have already gathered on the carpet; the love note from your secret admirer, the biology book scribbles, the list of library book borrowers and last but not least your Love Calculator survey results. "But as your best friend it is my duty to call the official investigation into Y/N's secret admirer to action." He grins. "So, what clues do we have so far?"

"Well we know that my secret admirer has to have been one of the people on this list who borrowed Biology 101." You grab a highlighter pen from the pot on your desk. "Hey look! A couple of the names on this list match up with my Love Calculator results."

Jimin's eyes light up as you start drawing circles around the names that correspond with both lists.

"Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon..." Jimin reads, nibbling the eraser of a pencil thoughtfully. "Kim Namjoon. Isn't that the guy you spoke to at the library?"

"Yup." You confirm. "But he didn't seem to know anything about the love letters, so I think we can rule him out of the investigation."

"Cool. But maybe he knows someone who does?" Jimin says, crossing his name off the suspect list but scribbling his name onto a post it note next to the words POSSIBLE ACCOMPLICE? and pinning it next to the list of library borrowers, connecting the two with a piece of red string. 

"And we know right off the bat that it's not Yoongi," Jimin draws a line through Yoongi's name on the list. "So we've narrowed it down to four potential bachelor's. Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook. Now we just need to find out if any of them had a motive to send you this letter. Any ideas?"

You ponder for a second, eyes fixated on the unfamiliar names on the list, before shaking your head negative. "I mean, I've probably seen each them around campus a couple times?"

Jimin looks unimpressed. "That's all you can come up with? No secret romantic rendezvous or crazy drunken hookups I don't know about?"

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "Jimin, you know better than anyone my idea of a crazy night is eating a whole packet of Cheez-It's and binge watching The Vampire Diaries instead of studying for my calc test. Besides, you know I'd tell you every detail if I had."

"Fair point." Jimin shrugs.

"If only we could read his name." You murmur, flopping onto your bed and holding the note above your head, closing one eye to get a better look at the splodge of ink in the middle of the page that obscures some of the sender's messy handwriting. "It seems like my admirer spilled something right where he signed his name..."

"Hold on a second," Jimin's eyes light up and he rips the note from your fingertips, ignoring your hey! of protest to perch on the end of the bed. You almost choke when he lifts the note to his nose and inhales, lashes fluttering closed before he exclaims, "I've solved it!"

"Huh?"

"This smell..."

"Smell? Jimin the fuck do you mean—"

"Cologne," Jimin drawls, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world as he pulls you to your feet and jumps on the spot excitedly. "He didn't spill anything, he left you a clue! Your secret admirer sprayed this note with his cologne before he sent it off and it made the ink bleed right here, but lucky for you, I just so happen to have a smell profile on every cute boy on campus."

You raise an eyebrow. "Honestly under normal circumstances I'd be concerned but right now I'm just intrigued. Elaborate?"

"Remember that guy I had a huge crush on last year?"

"Yeah? The footballer?"

"Right!" Jimin's finger slams down onto the name written in curly scrawl at the bottom of the love calculator list. "I would know his cologne anywhere. And it just so happens that it says his name right here!"

Jung Hoseok.

"He's my admirer?" You gasp.

Jimin shoots you a triumphant grin. "Come on! We have a secret admirer to expose. Operation Love Letters a-go!"

[kpopchangedme]

Capture the Flag: The Trade

Two teams, a lot of snow & a simple common goal. The only problem is that you’re on a losing streak and Jaebum, your nemesis, is way too good at this game...

GOT7 Masterlist

Protagonists: Im Jaebum & you

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: SFW - Fluff - Enemies to Lovers - Highschool!AU - Inspiré par La Guerre Des Tuques

Lys’ note: Part of my VDay’ Collab for the @kpoptrashnetwork! Read @greasygyeom Yugyeom’s One Shot Capture The Flag: The Absconding!

In the middle of the white field of snow stands your old friend, Youngjae. His face is scrunched, whipped by the cold wind of the winter, if there were price to pay for not choosing a side it’d be that one; freezing to death. There’s absolutely no shelter from the bad weather in the neutral zone, the small flat ground separating the two enemy bases. Youngjae is still waiting to talk, trying to gather the attention of everybody across the playground, even though he’ll fail like always. You wiggle expectedly from one foot to the other, partly to not let your toes freeze, but also because you’re especially anxious today.

Nobody really knows how this all started, only that it’s been a school tradition between students for years; two teams, two elected Captains, a referee, a list of rules and two flags. Both teams spend weeks of winter building a snow stronghold, working on their strategies and praying for the weather to be on their side. Then comes the final week of the game; four evenings after school without adult supervision where the two teams face off with everything they’ve got.

“Captain Im is still staring at you, y/n.” Mark leans closer, nudging you with his elbow. “Try to not move around so much, perhaps he won’t notice how nervous you–”

“It’s freaking -15ºC, Tuan. Maybe if you thought harder about your strategies instead of studying where Jaebum is looking, you’d be able to beat Jinyoung at it for once!”

“Ouch, I’m hurt.” Mark touches his coat where his heart hides under, chuckling. “I don’t think my strategies are what’s causing our losing streak you know… I’m starting to believe your heart isn’t really in it!”

Gasping at the implication, you feel your cheeks heat behind the secrecy of your scarf. “Shut up!” You scowl and Mark laughs, only amused by your perpetual anger. He’s been bringing this up a lot these days, always teasing you about your rival. “As if, Jaebum’s the enemy and he’s an assh–”

“No fight within the teams!” Youngjae points to you both, raising his voice so everybody can hear. Your eyes catch a smile on Jaebum’s face at the other side of the playground and you curse him under your breath.

Today is the day you win; you’ll wipe that smug off his perfect face.

Im Jaebum. Your nemesis, the Captain of the Blue team. If he were Achilles, you’d be Hector and tonight; the battle of your life.

“Is everybody already here?” Youngjae clears his throat and both teams purposefully ignore him as always. “Great! Before beginning, let me remind you all one last time; no weapons are allowed on site!” There’s a collective groan from the two small crowds. “No fireworks this time! Snow and your open hands are your only tools, did you hear me Bambam?!” Youngjae sighs, discouraged. “That being said; we’ll proceed as always. You have to wear your hat from your team’s colour at all time! Each team will go back to its castle and its flag and you’ll only be allowed to leave when you hear my siren... If I see somebody trying to cross the neutral zone bef–”

“We get it! Everyday’s the same!”

“Thanks for the unnecessary intervention Jackson, but there’s no interrupting the referee!” Youngjae shakes his head, like his role is unbearable and you roll your eyes at his lack of authority. “Anyway, after the siren, you are free to leave your castle to invade the other team’s. The first team to successfully secure the other’s flag and bring it back to its own castle wins the battle! For the last fight of the year, the score is…” Youngjae pauses dramatically and you clench your teeth, annoyed. “3 – 0 for the Blue Team!”

There’s an uproar on the enemy’s side of the field while Red team stays quiet behind you. You stare at Jaebum’s silhouette as he proudly raises both arms under a thunder of claps, muffled by mittens. Show-off.

“Red team”, you growl, “I don’t care what it takes to defeat those jerks. Tonight, they’ll see RED!” There’s a loud racket of approval accompanying your words. Your teammates even begin to energetically jump, the sound of their boots on the solid snow reverberating through the air. Across the field, the smug on Jaebum’s lips straightens, usual arrogance cooled a bit by the high spirits of your troops. That’s right Im, you’d better prepare for a damn war. Your lips curl upwards, a new confidence warming your body; Red team would never go down without a mighty fight.

You barely avoid a chunk of ice flying near you by rolling on the ground and let out an angry hiss through your clench teeth. Ice is supposed to be prohibited, but amid a fight with snow flying all over the place, it’s hard to prove the throw was voluntary. Plus, you’re attacking the north facade of the Blue’s snow fort and Youngjae is monitoring the neutral zone where most people usually fight, which is south from here. The north facade isn’t usually guarded since it’s near the end of the playground, on the outskirts of the woods, and all entries to the Blue stronghold are facing the neutral zone. Still, a few enemies followed your troop there, probably suspicious you were on a special mission or something. They are right, but it’s part of Mark’s scheme. Around you, boys from all ages are fighting, pushing and throwing; your teammates are doing a great job creating a diversion.

The enemies don’t even give you a second glance; the girl attempting to climb the 7 feet ice wall. You usually go unnoticed, that’s partly why you were chosen for the special mission. In an almost all boys’ competition, you’d think they would give the only two girls playing a little attention, but they ignore you both and let you do what you want. Except Jaebum, that jerk is always picking a fight with you. For once, he’s probably fighting someone else at your own castle at this very moment.

As for the only other girl, she’s from Blue Team and a complete mystery to you. She’s a real danger though, they say she has a mind of her own and is a total badass. So far today, she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s worrisome but you can’t think about her. Right now, all your efforts are put in the endeavor that is the escalade of the ridiculously high fortification of the Blue fort. Seriously, how did they even successfully build that thing? No wonder the Red haven’t got a single win yet! Their stronghold is almost impenetrable this year. Jinyoung, their strategist, probably worked on the plans all Fall, he’s way too invested in the game, even more than you or Jaebum. The climb would be a nearly impossible challenge for anyone else, that’s why their walls aren’t guarded, but you aren’t anyone. Only Mark knew you spent all your summers climbing mountains all over the country with your father. That’s the other reason why you were chosen for the invasion today, put your skills to good use.

When you finally reach the edge of the fort, you throw both legs inside, not bothering to look to see if there’s an opponent. Down on the ground of the Blue’s castle, you lower your scarf under your chin to make your breathing easier and recover. You’re already all wet from the physical effort. There’s three openings in the huge fort, but they’re heavily guarded. They’ve been keeping the same defense strategy all week; four guys by each door while every other player is on the field. The whole point of your mission is to sneak in without a physical fight, Red has been failing all aggressive invading attempts these past days. You reach the center of the fort without any encounters, just like Mark predicted, the enemies are all out attacking your own castle.

You must hurry to grab their flag and go back before they succeed in stealing yours. You believe in your teammates back at the fort, but they can only push the Blue invaders back for so long before someone slips in and catch it. Mark is with most of your team, taking care of the defense of your Red banner. While Jaebum team’s usually opting for many strong attacks, yours voted for a defensive strategy with a single attacking troop for the last game; you and the diversion guys causing chaos outside. Tonight, things are looking great, the hard part is done, you’re now in the center of the rival stronghold, completely alone. Getting out with the banner will be easy since they won’t be expecting the enemy to come from inside their castle.

Wait a second, where’s the Blue flag? You freeze, looking at the empty lonely pole in the middle of the circular ice room. It’s not here. The flag is to never leave its original fort expect for the capture, it’s one of the rules! There’s no way someone from your team already stole it, the plan–

“Not on the defense duty today?” A boy you hadn’t spotted earlier walks out of one of the corridor in front of you, leisurely, almost teasing. He’s around 16 years old with sharp eyes and wears a blue hat pushed so far down you can barely see his eyebrows.

“Jaebum”, you groan, irritated. “Looks like we actually switched roles.” He nods, taking a step to the right and you mirror him. You’re both used to meeting like this, since Jaebum’s his own strongest attacker while you usually assume the defense of your flag. The situation appears to be reversed for the last game, maybe it’s something like faith. You’re destined to fight each other, only tonight; you’ll win. Find his weakness – Achilles heel – make sure his arrogance is his own undoing.

“Well”, he cocks his head contemptuously and you just know he’s smirking under his scarf, “I’m glad, I was a bit sad when I thought about not seeing your pretty face today…”

“Shut up”, you’re both slowly tracing circles in the room, walking around the pole in the center. “Where’s the flag, dickhead?” Jaebum laughs at your insult, the sound making your skin crawl.

“Dickhead? Tst!” He takes a step forward and you back up by reflex, colliding with the ice wall. “The flag hasn’t leave my fort –” Jaebum throws his hands to the sides, gesturing the whole empty place. “You know I love to live by the rules…”

Grimacing, you study him anew; he’s wearing a simple black coat with snow pants of the same color and a scarf is covering most of his face. There’s only one place he would hide it; under his clothes. It’s nothing new, the Blue Team used that technique very often last year, back when Chansung was still in school and their elected chief.

“I guess I’ll have to come get it then.” Jaebum frowns at your confidence, uncertainty passing on his features for the second time today.

“I know you, y/n! You wouldn’t da–” He never gets to finish this sentence, because in no time, you’re jumping on him. The boy lets out a muffled grunt when the air is expelled out of his lungs and you both fall on the cold ground. “Are you nuts?”

Right now, you don’t care what it looks like. The Red team needs a win, you won’t go down in school’s history as the first female Captain with absolutely no win for your first winter. You’re sitting on top of him, trying to shove his zipper down while Jaebum’s wiggling, panicking under you. His reaction’s off; if he hid it under his coat, he should have expected somebody would try to steal it. The struggle is draining; there’s nothing quite as exhausting as wrestling in snowsuits. You’re almost thankful when Jaebum shifts his weight to flip you both and cages you between his knees.

“God, you’re heavy!” He fails to avoid your elbow flying to his head and you accidentally shove his scarf down, uncovering his face. “Hey! That’s an illega– humpf” Jaebum winces when your fist finds his stomach, although the hit is mostly absorbed by his layers of clothing.

“I’m not heavy, you asshole!” You’re about to hit him again, but he grabs both of your hands, pining them above your head.

“I know you want a win...” Jaebum pants, tired from the struggle. “But if you hit me again, girl… I swear, I won’t hold b–”

Without warning, you jump, pushing your hips away from the ground and trying to make him fall off you. You successfully destabilize him, but instead of using the opportunity to wiggle away, you’re completely frozen still. Jaebum may not have been expecting your hip thrust, but you definitely weren’t expecting his sudden proximity. To keep the upper hand and his balance, he lowered himself on you. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your cheek and see every single one of his dark eyelashes perfectly.

“What are you doing?” You wiggle, uncomfortable and trying to free your hands from his. If he were a gentleman, he’d let you go, but instead he holds the position, staring at you with his eyelids lazily half closed.

“Holding you down with my body.” His voice is hushed, so low it feels like he’s telling a secret. “Enjoy every second of this honey, you made me do it.” Your original confusion turns to anger at the pet name and you glare at him threateningly.

“Get off!” For a second, you still and he hesitates, seemingly pondering.

“I thought you wanted my flag.” Jaebum chuckles and hot air brushes your face. Despite yourself and the freezing weather, you shudder treacherously, body catching fire and cheeks tinting red.

“Well, there’s no way you’re giving me that…” You hate yourself for it, but when you murmur, without really meaning to, you glance at his mouth.

You’ve never been this close to a boy, let alone actually kiss one. Even if you’re fighting, this feels somewhat intimate. Jaebum lips seem so close, soft and intriguing. Blushing, you blink, trying to erase your thoughts and he shifts his weight, pressing you down on the cold ground even more. Jaebum exhales slowly, taking a moment to look around the empty room like he’s searching for somebody.

You can hear the screams mixed with laugher from the game raging on outside the fort. It’s only a question of time before one of his teammates comes in and finds you both like that. It’d be horribly humiliating, people would misread the whole situation. Jaebum has quite a heartbreaker reputation in school, he’d brush it off and laugh, but you couldn’t. You’re the one who’s the best at everything she tries, the one who intimidates the boys, you’re the first girl to be elected Captain of the Red Team; you don’t lose to anyone. Not even freaking Im Jaebum. That’s why this week of games has been hellish and you’re probably just losing your mind because of this arrogant jerk.

“I-I don’t know... I might.” When Jaebum looks back at you, you stop breathing.

“W-what?” You gulp and he chuckles again, glancing at your parted lips.

“We both have something the other wants”, he clears his throat, taking a more formal tone, “I’m proposing a secret trade.” You raise a brow with skepticism; you have absolutely nothing that Jaebum would need. “Captain to Captain.” He adds, lips curling upwards.

“Anything.” You breathe out and his expression flickers between shock and incredibility for a moment. He hadn’t realized you’d take the deal. “I really need that flag.” You need more than the Blue flag; you need to bring it back to your fort too. You need the Red Team to score one point, just one. Blue Team would still win this year’s games, but Red’s reputation would be saved. Now it’s a question of honor.

“Anything?” There’s a new longing to his voice and you hold his gaze, anxiety and perhaps something foreign growing in your stomach. You nod slowly, barely able to move as Jaebum licks his lips and glances at yours again, eyes feverish.

Maybe you’re not the only one losing your mind.

Is Im Jaebum about to kiss me? Why would he trade something as precious as a flag for that? The school heartthrob and you; it makes absolutely no sense. It’s supposed to be Red versus Blue, not Red making out with Blue. You’re both sworn enemies, this is wrong. Mark would never let you live if he found out you had your very first kiss with the infamous Im Jaebum. Still, against all better judgement, you close your eyes, waiting for something to happen. You hope you didn’t misunderstand him, you’d looked so foolish right now. Jaebum’s breath seems to creep on your cheek forever before his lips brush yours.

Right there, on the floor of the enemy’s castle, nothing so wrong has ever felt more right.

His kiss is delicate, gentle and short. He pulls back, but you stay still, eyes shut and toes curled tight, too timid to act. Jaebum chuckles lowly before leaning into you again, this time releasing your hands to rest on his elbows more comfortably.

The second kiss quickly evolves in something else, dangerous; annihilating space and time. You move too, molding into him in response and you both seem to forget yourselves. This is why people kiss so much, you think as you begin to question reality; this sensation is both blissful and alarming. Jaebum’s lips part, tongue testing your mouth. You allow him access, without really knowing how, but craving the taste of him. He explores you as you wrap yourself tighter around him, losing it.

You want more. Your tongue finds his, gently fighting and teasing it until a sound dawns in Jaebum’s chest. It’s another new discovery, an instinctive vibration that reverberates to your bones, something rough but delightful, savage but formidable. Another wrong that’s nothing but exquisitely right. You feel him smirk his usual stupid grin in your mouth, but for once you don’t mind. You want to hear him make that sound again, want to reexperience that vibration in him on your chest, without layers of clothing between your bodies.

Unfortunately, Jaebum pulls back panting like when you wrestled earlier. Fighting in snowsuit might be arduous but making out is even harder. He sits back in awe, finally getting off and releasing you. As you stand up too, still shaken up, you find the lack of him even worse than being trapped. Avoiding your gaze, he opens his coat and reaches under his sweater. He retrieves the folded precious navy flag and hands it to you with both hands, almost ceremoniously. You blush taking it, if you weren’t wearing giant gloves, you’d probably feel the warmth of his body lingering on it.

Jaebum clears his throat. “Remember that the trade must absolutely stay secret.” His words, spoken candidly, almost knock the air out of your chest. Of course, he’s ashamed he kissed you, he’s Jaebum and you’re y/n! Still, he’s the one who initiated the trade; the flag for a kiss. It wasn’t your idea.

“You think I’d boast about making a pact with the Devil? Trading a kiss for a win?” His face falls and he narrows his eyes. Already, you’re regretting your words. You don’t know much to relationships, but you’re pretty sure you shouldn’t let something fake, like this whole competition, taint something that felt as real as that kiss.

“Wow, who’s acting like an asshole now?” Jaebum frowns and you open your mouth to apologize, but he goes on: “I just meant that we’d get into trouble if people found out. Youngjae might not be a scary arbiter, but I assure you Jinyoung is terrifying. He’d never leave me alone if he knew I gave you this.”

“I’m sorry…” You nod, thinking about Mark and the rest of your Red teammates. They didn’t elect you Captain to make out with the enemy. You blush, embarrassed by your actions.

“But since you brought it up, we haven’t determined clearly what I get from this trade…” He closes the space between you, pushing until you’re trapped between the ice wall and his body. “You say I’m the Devil…”  You swallow when he leans in slowly, chills spreading on your whole body but not from the cold. He licks his lips again and you shut your eyes, expecting him to kiss you. Instead, Jaebum wet lips brush your ear, right where your red hat ends, and he blows softly, making you shiver. “Then I’ll be back to claim your soul next time.”

Your eyes shot open when he bursts out laughing, backing away. You smile, watching his eyes crease cutely. You get his reputation now; the Captain of Blue Team is deliciously handsome when he’s smiling and not being a jerk. After all, even Achilles was famous for his charming ways. A sudden profusion of loud screams outside catch your attention back and Jaebum groans, annoyed. Seems like your diversion is still ongoing.

“I believe that’s your cue; shouldn’t you make a run for it?”

You nod, looking around to plan your getaway. You’re conscious the deal was to give you the flag – not to ease your escape – but still, he points to one of the three ice corridors leading to an exit. You don’t even hesitate for second before deciding on this route, choosing to trust your occasional sworn enemy. You smile at Jaebum one last time, finally turning away and running to flee his fort. You just know you’re going to grin all the way to the Red Team’s ice fortress.

Perhaps you really traded your soul for a win after all.

GOT7 Masterlist

[kidsviral-blog]

The Heartbreak And Confusion Of A 19-Year Missing Child Case

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/the-heartbreak-and-confusion-of-a-19-year-missing-child-case/

The Heartbreak And Confusion Of A 19-Year Missing Child Case

As if losing a child to kidnapping wasn’t horrifying enough, ineffective law enforcement agencies and predatory private investigators only add to the confusion and pain. Deana Hebert’s long, maddening search for her daughter — and the ex-husband who took her — may be the rule, not the exception.

We’re sitting in a rented Kia minivan, watching a house. We’ve been at it for hours, just staring, and nothing has happened. No one has come in or out, nobody has even walked by. It’s amazing how little can transpire on a sunny Sunday in January on a suburban cul-de-sac in San Bernardino County, California. When the rare car turns down the street, I hold my breath before it inevitably turns into a neighboring driveway.

View this image ›

Private investigator Monique Lessan in her home office Photograph by Chris Tuite for BuzzFeed

I’m sitting alongside Monique Lessan, a private investigator hired to find Bianca Lozano, a 21-year-old woman who was abducted by her father, Juan Lozano, 19 years ago. The house we’ve been ogling is an otherwise unremarkable, well-tended beige two-story in a neighborhood of similar-looking dwellings in Fontana, a parched, charmless city 50 miles east of Los Angeles. It belongs to Juan’s cousin “Pablo” (his name has been changed to maintain the integrity of the investigation), whose identity Lozano has been using for years as he’s eluded detection, living in Mexico with Bianca. Lessan’s theory — or one of her many theories — is that Juan and/or Bianca could be in the house today. As she told me yesterday, “It’s my feeling these two have crossed the border and are back in the U.S.”

At the moment, though, there’s no sign of anyone. Three cars are parked in front and Lessan has jotted down the corresponding license plate numbers, but none have moved in the three hours since we got here. We’re in the backseat, partially obscured by the tinted windows — “If we sit in front, it looks suspicious,” Lessan says — studying photos of Lozano and Bianca so we’ll be able to recognize them should we spot them.

That’s all Lessan is hoping for today. She’s considered simply knocking on the door, but ultimately decided doing so could “burn” her — if Lozano isn’t there, Pablo might tip him off, and then Lozano would go even deeper underground.

Lessan has been a licensed investigator for 21 years but hardly fits the traditional gumshoe profile. She’s a woman in a field dominated by men and has never worked in law enforcement or the military. From the minute I meet her, she’s warm and chatty. She’s slender, with long black hair, and today is wearing a black T-shirt, tight jeans, and sunglasses. Her words tend to tumble out in a stream-of-consciousness rush, and she’s prone to darting from subject to subject. Often these digressions slingshot the conversation back to Lessan’s favorite subjects: She hosts a weekly internet radio show devoted to discussing UFO sightings, the Illuminati, weather modification, and the like. On the ride out to Fontana, she casually, almost dismissively, explained how a small group of families, including the Rothschilds, the Clintons, the Bushes, and the Windsors, run the world, and that Dwight Eisenhower shook hands with aliens in 1954.

View this image ›

Deana and Bianca Courtesy of Deana Hebert

Lessan has been working on this case since August 2013, and she represents something of a Hail Mary in this nearly two-decade-long search. Bianca’s mother, Deana Hebert, whose Twitter handle is @missingbianca, has exhausted all of her resources and enlisted anyone and everyone she can — the police, the FBI, the State Department, the Department of Homeland Security, the DA’s office, the Mexican Consulate, the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, her congressman, multiple private investigators, several lawyers, family members, friends, volunteers — to look for her daughter. That they’ve all failed says as much about the slapdash, numbingly bureaucratic — if well-intentioned — system we have in this country for finding long-term missing children as it does about anything else. As Hebert put it, “Nobody wants to be responsible for anything in this case. Nobody wants to be in charge. It’s just me pushing and pushing.”

If you were a parent whose daughter was abducted, how much would you pay for her safe return? Even the most well-meaning PIs must navigate the murky moral quandary of what is appropriate to charge a desperate parent to deliver the very thing in the universe they hold most dear. A friend of Hebert’s paid to hire Lessan — the third PI who’s been on the case — and right now this house in Fontana is her only viable lead. If we see either Lozano or Bianca today, the plan is to call Hebert so she can fly out from Texas to meet the fully grown woman she hasn’t seen since she was her 20-month-old toddler, and to contact Lessan’s friend who works as an investigator for Homeland Security, who could arrest Lozano.

As morning turns to afternoon, Lessan’s getting antsy. She begins to consider going against her original instinct and knocking on that front door — there’s a yearning to do something, anything, to make the time spent feel like it wasn’t a total waste. Just as she’s on the verge of going to the door and potentially ruining six months of investigation, she catches a break: Girl Scouts. Walking down the street are two young girls and a mother, pulling a wagon behind them, going door to door selling cookies.

We duck down in the van’s backseat as the Girl Scouts pass by. They ring Pablo’s doorbell, wait, then begin to walk away, when the door opens. A little girl, about 6 or 7 years old, stands in the doorway. Soon after, a woman who looks to be her mother comes out. Then a third woman emerges, and walks out onto the driveway to inspect the wagon. The third woman has dyed, red-tinged hair and looks to be in her late teens or early twenties.

Lessan crawls toward the front of the minivan and snaps photos of the unfolding scene. From our vantage point, about 20 yards away, this third woman bears a resemblance to some of the photos of Bianca that have been found over the years on various social networking sites.

“Could that be her?” I ask Lessan.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe.”

View this image ›

Images of Bianca, including two digital simulations by the National Center For Missing And Exploited Children Courtesy of Deana Hebert and the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children

Every year, 200,000 children in the United States are abducted by a family member. Or maybe it’s 350,000. Or 2,000. In truth, no one really knows. The last year a study was done by the Justice Department was 1999. It claimed an estimated 1.3 million kids went missing that year and that 203,900 of those were taken by a family member. Those stats have been regurgitated for 15 years, and while there are significant questions as to how accurate they were back then, they’re certainly next to useless a decade and a half later. (A Justice Department spokesperson says there is a new report in the works, but it’s not expected to be published for at least a year.)

The FBI tracks annual crime statistics and reported that in 2013, 462,567 children went missing. Of those, 2,310 were abducted by a noncustodial parent. This is a number that, according to FBI statistics, has remained relatively static going back to at least 2007. It’s also a number rendered mostly worthless by the methodology behind it: When missing persons reports are filed by law enforcement, specifying the cause of the disappearance is optional.

“Missing person entries are made primarily by the local law enforcement agency shortly after the missing person report is made,” Stephen Fischer Jr., chief of multimedia productions in the FBI’s Criminal Justice Information Services Division, explains in an email. “Having the correct name, date of birth and basic physical description is the primary concern. While the circumstances surrounding the incident will be collected as the investigation moves forward, the missing person entry will often not reflect this data.”

This partially accounts for the enormous discrepancy between the FBI’s count and the Justice Department’s 1999 research. Still, nearly half those 2013 missing child reports did specify a cause, so following that logic, the number of children abducted by a family member each year falls somewhere between 4,620 and 203,900. Maybe. Robert L. Snow, a retired captain with the Indianapolis police who has written multiple books about kidnapping, thinks even the DOJ’s study undercounts parental abductions.

“People don’t realize that a lot of abductions, particularly family abductions, are never reported,” he says. “People don’t want to air their dirty laundry. I have found research that says it could be as high as 350,000 parental abductions a year. … That’s why there’s so much apathy. No one realizes how big a problem this is.”

View this image ›

Elizabeth Smart Getty Images

View this image ›

Jaycee Dugard Carl Probyn / AP Photo

This is pretty much how it goes when it comes to missing children in America. Despite huge amounts of sensationalistic coverage lavished on a few rare cases — Elizabeth Smart, Jaycee Dugard, etc. — for the most part, hardly anyone is paying attention. This is especially true of parental abductions, which everyone agrees — terrible stat-keeping notwithstanding — are far more common than the classic “stranger-danger” kidnapping most parents live in mortal fear of. (The 1999 DOJ study counted a grand total of 115 of these so-called “stereotypical kidnappings” that year.)

According to Snow, most parental abductions tend to get resolved pretty quickly. In a percentage of these cases — again, who knows exactly what percentage — the parent is merely a few hours late returning with the child. In others, a call from the police or a lawyer threatening harsh consequences resolves the situation. Sometimes, the abductor has the intent to stay gone but no real plan, and authorities track him or her down in a matter of hours or days. It’s when days become weeks, months, and even years that whatever systems we have in place seem to break down completely.

When the abductor leaves the country, the situation grows even more complicated. The Hague Abduction Convention, a 1980 treaty that has been agreed to by 92 countries, including the U.S. and Mexico, sets guidelines for the return of children kidnapped across international borders, but, in reality, even many countries that have signed it don’t comply with it.

“When you go to a foreign country, an American warrant doesn’t mean much,” says Snow. “A lot of times you can’t get the local authorities to cooperate. A lot of countries are of the opinion that children are better off being raised in their country than in the United States. The U.S. can try to put pressure, but they don’t have much leverage. They’re not going to cut off aid or start a war over one child.”

View this image ›

Courtesy of Deana Hebert

Deana Hebert was worried the minute her then-husband walked out the door with their daughter. The couple were in midst of an ugly divorce, and Lozano had arrived on a Friday in April in 1995 to pick up Bianca for the weekend. Hebert was living with her parents in a small house in Baytown, a Houston suburb, and their custody arrangement meant Bianca spent most of the time with her. Lozano had her on Wednesdays and every other weekend.

Hebert was born and raised in Baytown, and Lozano had moved there from Monterrey, Mexico, when he was a child. They were an odd couple: He was 6-foot-2 and 300 pounds; she was 5-foot-5, 100 pounds, and five years younger. These days, with all that’s happened, Hebert has trouble remembering what first drew them together. “I guess he made me laugh,” she says. They dated for about two years and married a month before Bianca was born, when Hebert was just 21. Lozano lost his job, leaving Hebert the family’s sole breadwinner. He grew moody and eventually abusive toward Hebert.

“He was so scary,” she says. “He’s like Jekyll and Hyde. He can be so sweet and then so extreme opposite. If I’d stayed I would’ve ended up dead.” She and Bianca moved into her parents’ house, and she filed for divorce.

Every time Lozano came to pick up Bianca, it was an ordeal. One Wednesday in January, Lozano got rough and dragged Hebert outside. She called the cops and filed charges for assault, but their custody arrangement remained unaltered.

That Friday in April, Hebert sensed something was wrong. With Lozano scheduled to appear in court for the assault, their already troubled relationship was near its lowest point. Although Lozano and Bianca weren’t due to return until Sunday evening, Hebert was on edge the whole weekend. When he didn’t show up at 6 p.m., as agreed to, she was sure they weren’t coming back. Her mother tried to reassure her.

“My mom goes, ‘You know how they run late. He’s playing games. He’s probably going to tell you he had to change her diaper.’” She sighs. “I said, ‘No. They’re gone.’ And I was right.”

View this image ›

Photograph by Chris Tuite for BuzzFeed

It’s two days after the Fontana stakeout, and Lessan and I are driving, talking about the case — specifically why and how Bianca and Juan Lozano would be in the U.S. at the moment. Lessan had texted the photo of the red-haired woman outside the house to Hebert, who couldn’t say definitively whether it was her daughter or not but seemed inclined to think it wasn’t. Lessan suddenly gasps so loudly that I’m sure she’s stumbled upon a case-breaking revelation.

“Chemtrails!” she says, pointing out the front windshield.

She motions toward the lines of airplane exhaust crisscrossing the blue sky, and launches into a conspiracy-laced diatribe about their nefarious origins. Part of me wonders if her willingness to question conventional wisdom makes her a good detective — she says she first got the idea to start searching Southern California for Lozano after a psychic told her he was in Los Angeles. Then she found Lozano’s cousin in Fontana.

View this image ›

Photograph by Chris Tuite for BuzzFeed

At the moment, we’re on our way to Burbank, where she has an appointment at a production company that’s looking to make a reality show about a private investigator who finds missing children. In a shockingly bright lime-green office, a producer shoots video of Lessan on his iPhone while asking questions like, “What’s your daily schedule like?” and “Do you carry a gun?”

The reality of Lessan’s daily routine involves phone calls, database searches, and sitting for hours on end in parked cars more than it does high-speed chases or knocking down doors. Her rate normally ranges from around $3,000 up front for a local abduction case to a minimum of $10,000 for an international one, not including expenses. As a case progresses, costs escalate. She tries to cut her rates as much as she can in order to accommodate a client’s financial situation but has to be careful not to get into a position where she can’t even cover her own costs.

“On this trip, I’m making very little money,” she tells me. “They don’t have any more to pay me.” But having come as far as she has, she wants to see it through. “I told them I have to do these last parts. I can’t quit now. I feel like I’m really getting somewhere, but I also feel like it’s just like water falling through my fingers.”

View this image ›

Facebook: Nina-Suarez-seguimos-buscandote

Hebert made all the calls you’d expect her to in the hours and days after her daughter’s 1995 kidnapping. Lozano’s parents. Her lawyer. The police. The FBI. As the weeks turned to months and eventually years, a dizzying number of government agencies got involved: Besides the Baytown Police Department and the FBI, an incomplete list includes the U.S. Marshals Service, the Harris County district attorney’s office, the State Department, the Mexican Consulate, and the Department of Homeland Security.

“What I found is that the agencies don’t communicate with each other,” she says. “So any information I got, I’d make sure I sent it to the DA’s detective, Baytown police, FBI, the congressman’s office. I was the hub.”

Managing the investigation into her daughter’s abduction while simultaneously trying to mourn the loss was not ideal, but during the first year or two she was grateful in some ways to have something to do. For a while, she clung to the belief that the man she once married would eventually come to his senses and bring Bianca back. “I still remember feeling like, Oh, this is going to blow over,” she says.

It didn’t. Her divorce was finalized. After a year or so, the trail was cold. Soon, Hebert was out of money, out of ideas, and trying to figure out how to go on living when her main reason for doing so had been replaced by a giant, unfathomable void.

“I was so busy at first, involved in everything, and then all of a sudden everything just stopped,” she says. “I didn’t know how to grieve. I just put everything in a compartment in my head and kind of left it there.” But she eventually realized if she didn’t want to live out her days as the empty shell she felt like, she had to start filling them with something. “Being in my twenties and being single, it was hard when you’d meet somebody and they’d say, ‘Oh, do you have kids?’ Sometimes it was easier just to say no, because when you tell some people that your child was kidnapped, they say, ‘Oh, OK,’ and just go on with the conversation. Then some people freak out and start crying like you’ve dropped a bomb on them.”

Eventually she met someone else and got remarried in 1999. She had another child, a boy, two years later.

View this image ›

Hebert with her son. Courtesy of Deana Hebert

“My son, he’s 12 now, but when he was 4, we decided to tell him he had a sister that was missing,” she says. “I remember our son saying, ‘Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?’” She laughs. “I’m thinking, You wanted me to tell you when you were 2?”

Through it all, Hebert kept searching, mostly on her own, for Bianca. She scoured the internet for any signs of her or Lozano. The month after Bianca disappeared, she had sued Lozano’s parents, who she believes have been helping him, and at one point won a $2.2 million judgment, though after several years and various appeals, a retrial was ordered and Hebert, her parents, and her attorney made the decision not to go forward. Years later, she tried to repair relations with his family in the hopes that they could facilitate Bianca’s return. Nothing worked.

“There’s two different parts of me,” she says. “There’s one part that’s Bianca’s mom, searching and doing all these things, and there’s the other part that goes on with life and tries to do normal things. But nothing has ever replaced her.”

In 2009, 14 years after Bianca’s initial disappearance, Hebert turned to her congressman, Pete Olson, for help, and met Kimberli Reed, who was Olson’s director of casework at the time. They forged an immediate bond: In 2002, Reed had had her own children literally snatched from her in a parking lot by her estranged husband. It took five months for her to track them down, and a year before she was granted full custody.

“I know what I went through for five measly months,” says Reed. “I have no idea what it would be like to go through this for all this time. It’s amazing she hasn’t gone insane.”

By the time Reed met Hebert, the investigation into Bianca’s whereabouts had deteriorated to the point where it could hardly even be called an investigation.

“It was dead,” says Reed. “There were probably seven or eight years in there that no one was doing anything, except for Deana. Baytown PD had totally written it off. Harris County district attorney’s office had washed its hands of it. The State Department had closed the case. There wasn’t a notice or a flag put into Homeland Security for Juan. Mexico knew nothing about the case.”

Reed took up the cause, and “for the next four years,” she says, “I literally spent every day searching for Bianca.” She tried to use her clout at the congressman’s office to knock heads together at various government agencies. In 2009, she helped convene a roundtable meeting that included representatives of the FBI, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the Harris County DA, the Mexican Consulate, and the Mexican attorney general’s office, with a representative from the State Department conferenced in on the phone. She asked if anyone could contact and question Lozano’s family.

“All of them looked at Deana and me and said, ‘There’s nothing we can do,’” Reed recalls. The Mexican representatives told her they did not consider Lozano a criminal because Bianca is his daughter. The FBI said that its hands were tied because it had no jurisdiction in Mexico. The State Department staffer said it couldn’t do anything and made clear that once Bianca turned 18 and was no longer a missing child but a missing adult, the department wouldn’t work the case at all.

“Everyone kept saying, ‘We can’t do anything until we locate her, and we can’t locate her so we can’t do anything,’” says Reed. Even if it did manage to find Lozano, the Harris County DA wasn’t even sure if it would extradite him.

A warrant for Lozano’s arrest was eventually issued in the U.S., and a few years ago Interpol, which tracks fugitives across international borders, put him on a watch list. At one point, Hebert discovered that if she could pinpoint Lozano in Mexico, U.S. marshals were authorized to bring him back to the U.S. and arrest him. But the Marshals Office told her it wouldn’t, “because the original warrant was filed by the FBI, and the FBI and the U.S. Marshals Office [wouldn’t] work together,” Hebert tells me.

“There were certain detectives in certain agencies that have been very dedicated,” she continues. “Other times, I try to get in touch about something and don’t hear from them for months. I know they’re busy, they’re on other things, this is an old case, but it’s just frustrating. It would be nice to have one central agency that only worked on missing children’s cases.”

According to Snow, this is a key failing of the current system. “No one really takes responsibility for abducted children,” he says. “It’s a criminal offense, but there’s no specific agency meant to take these cases.” Even within the agencies that end up saddled with kidnapping cases, there’s a distinct lack of expertise. “In Indianapolis, we’ve got a huge police department, 1,500 officers,” says Snow. “We’ve got no abduction unit. Very few police departments have a unit specifically trained for this. It just goes to a general officer and he handles this like he handles other cases. So that officer has very little experience and training in it.”

View this image ›

Photograph by Chris Tuite for BuzzFeed

The Department of Homeland Security’s San Diego office is in a modern downtown office building a few blocks from the Pacific Ocean. Lessan is there to meet with her friend, Maurice Wrighten, who works as an investigator in the cybercrimes division. Lessan has known him for 15 years, and he seems willing to help but isn’t certain exactly how. From a manila folder, she pulls out a copy of a Mexican ID card: It’s Lozano’s picture but Pablo’s name and information, and Lozano used it to get a job in Mexico a few years ago. She then pulls out two birth certificates. One is a copy of Bianca’s legitimate American one; the other is a Mexican one that Lessan has uncovered, with an alias, “Fabiola Suarez Elizondo,” a birth date of more than a year earlier, and Pablo listed as the father.

Wrighten studies the documents. One of the many complications of Bianca’s case is that although she was abducted as a child, she’s now 21. Technically, she’s an adult, making her own decisions. Since Bianca’s broken no laws herself, Wrighten can’t really investigate her.

Lozano is a different story. Wrighten says the identity fraud is a way in, but “if he’s using a fake Mexican ID in Mexico, that has nothing to do with us. He’s not breaking any U.S. laws.” As long as he’s in Mexico, he’s beyond the reach of Homeland Security. He looks again through the manila file.

“There might be a way I can do this, but I can’t tell you how right now,” he says. He promises to be back in touch. As Wrighten walks us to the door, Lessan thanks him and asks, almost pleadingly, “What do you think?”

He nods. “There’s hope.”

View this image ›

The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children is the one entity that seems best positioned to step into the breach and bring order to all this chaos. Although the NCMEC is ostensibly an independent nonprofit, it gets considerable funding — $67 million in 2014 — from the federal government. Opinions on its effectiveness vary wildly. Reed says that the NCMEC is “completely inept.”

“All they do is run a website, create fliers, and that’s it,” she says. And when newer photos of Bianca were found, getting it to update the fliers proved an ordeal. “The entire time I was with the congressman’s office, they essentially did nothing. ‘She’s on our website,’ ‘We have flyers out there,’ was all they’d do.” (A recent check of Bianca Lozano’s profile on the NCMEC website had an updated photo, but in one spot it misstates the date of her disappearance by 17 years.)

On its website, the NCMEC claims to have helped recover over 199,000 children since its founding in 1984, with a recovery rate of 97%. When I spoke to Bob Lowery, vice president of the NCMEC’s Missing Children Division, he said the actual number now is closer to 98% or 99%. Some question these figures, noting that the NCMEC takes credit for “helping” to recover children in cases it had virtually no involvement in. In some cases, these children were never actually missing (merely reported so by a panicky parent), or were returned by a noncustodial parent within hours of being reported. Critics of the NCMEC say it overstates its usefulness to justify its federal funding, and in doing so distorts public perception about the nature of the problem.

When I spoke to Marc Klaas, who founded the KlaasKids Foundation to aid in the recovery of missing children after his own daughter, Polly, was abducted and murdered back in 1993, he launched, unprompted, into a bitter condemnation of the NCMEC.

“I’ve got a real beef with these characters,” he says. “They don’t really go in the field. They don’t really get involved in any except the high-profile cases. They’ve done more to harm the missing child — I don’t want to call it an industry, but missing child nonprofit organizations — than any other single entity out there. They work very hard to make sure every dollar involved in missing children goes directly to them. They don’t share any resources whatsoever, and I can tell you from personal experience they’ll go out of their way to undermine anybody that might threaten their position. … They’re just guys in the middle vacuuming up money. I loathe the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children and think missing kids would be better served if they didn’t exist.”

Lowery, not surprisingly, takes issue with these portrayals.

“Those are misinformed impressions about the National Center’s work,” he says. “The work here in the Missing Children’s Division is much more comprehensive than simply creating a poster and distributing it. … All our teams are former law enforcement or social services with a great deal of experience in finding children. We do extensive case analysis work, we work social media, we have law enforcement partners in our building working side by side with us, so when leads come in that need law enforcement activity right away, we’re getting it.”

There are dozens of other nonprofits that focus on recovering missing children, though sorting the merely well-intentioned from those actually well-equipped to help can be tricky (never mind the ones devoted mostly to collecting donations, including the Committee for Missing Children, Operation Lookout National Center for Missing Youth, and Find the Children, three of the 50 worst charities in the country, according to an investigation by the Tampa Bay Times and the Center for Investigative Reporting).

A few years after Bianca went missing, Hebert met with Mark Miller, founder of the American Association for Lost Children, a nonprofit that, according to its website, conducts “hands-on investigations, while traveling in and outside the country performing surveillance and undercover work searching for and rescuing missing children.” Hebert says Miller convinced another mother whose own children were missing to date one of Lozano’s cousins in order to try to get information on Lozano’s whereabouts.

“After a few dates, in the throes of whatever they were in the middle of, she confessed that she was working for Miller and the whole thing blew up in her face,” Hebert says. Later, when Hebert was organizing a concert to raise money for her continuing search efforts, she got into a dispute with Miller over what percentage of the proceeds would go to his organization. In the end, she says, “I don’t really know a lot of what he did or didn’t do working on Bianca’s case.”

(When contacted, Miller says that he encourages all parents to “be on our team,” and help out with cases other than their own. He contends that although the other mother blew their cover, she did help procure useful information. He also insists that the money he wanted Hebert to donate to his charity was going to directly fund her case. According to Miller, the foundation spent thousands of dollars on Hebert’s case and she “never donated one penny to the charity.”)

With both government agencies and nonprofits often creating more confusion than they alleviate, many parents turn to private investigators. Unfortunately, the world of PIs is possibly even more opaque. Licensing varies from state to state, and in most cases doesn’t seem particularly rigorous. According to Lessan, the main advantage a licensed investigator has over an unlicensed one is a badge. “To be honest,” she says, “people don’t know that there’s no difference.”

Given this landscape, it’s not surprising that nightmare stories of PIs ripping off parents are legion. In 2009, an investigator in Arizona was indicted on five counts of wire fraud relating to charges that he created a fake abducted child recovery company, Delta International, which collected huge fees from parents and delivered virtually nothing in return. Gus Zamora, an ex–Army Ranger whose renown for recovering children abducted internationally has garnered him features on Dateline and in The Atlantic, has also been accused, multiple times, of defrauding parents.

Hebert first hired a PI based in Houston a few months after Lozano absconded with Bianca. She says she traveled to Mexico four times with this investigator, who insisted he’d seen Bianca while doing surveillance down there for her.

“We were going to go down there again, rent a plane, hire these guys with guns, kidnap my daughter, and bring her back,” says Hebert. But she wasn’t too confident in this plan, and was running out of money. Around the same time, she met Don Feeney, an ex–Delta Force commando working in private security consulting, who’d helped retrieve kidnapped children before. She decided to spend the last $10,000 she could get her hands on — money that her mother had to borrow from Hebert’s grandparents — to pay Feeney to follow up on the earlier investigator’s information. “They came back and said, ‘This is not your daughter and not your ex-husband. You would’ve been in a world of trouble if you’d kidnapped that girl and tried to come back here with her.’ It was crazy.”

View this image ›

In April 2013, Hebert finally caught a break. A man got in touch via a Facebook page she’d set up, telling her that his sister Norma had had a baby with Lozano, whom she knew as “Pablo.” She had lived with him and Bianca — whom she knew as “Nina” — in Monterrey, Mexico, but Lozano was abusive, and now Norma was on the run from him. She’d begun to grow suspicious about his past, and after finding the Facebook page Hebert had set up, was concerned Lozano would kidnap her own son, so she took the boy and went into hiding.

In a series of conversations Hebert and a Spanish-speaking friend had with Norma’s brother and father, Hebert began hearing the first details of her daughter’s life, most of them heartbreaking: Bianca had been told that her mother died during childbirth. She lived in fear of her father. She had no idea she was a U.S. citizen and didn’t even know her real name. She was diabetic, played the guitar, and although she had no formal education, took classes at a music school in Monterrey.

“I desperately wanted to talk to Norma because she’s the only person I know that knows my daughter,” says Hebert. But Norma’s family kept her hidden, fearing for her and her son’s safety. Still, working off these leads, Hebert and Reed found a Russian pen pal of Bianca’s named Natalia, who told them they thought Lozano monitored all of Bianca’s online communication. Around this time, Hebert was also directed to some short YouTube clips of her daughter playing guitar.

View this image ›

“That was when I saw her for the first time in 18 years,” says Hebert. “I knew it was her. I’ve seen thousands of pictures of other girls and people would say, ‘Don’t you think this looks like her?’ And I’d say, ‘No. I know it’s not.’ Then I saw this girl and I knew it was her.”

Bianca’s music school friends told Hebert that Bianca had abruptly withdrawn from the school earlier in the year and left town with her father. Nobody had heard from her since. Still, this new information provided the investigation with a momentum it had been lacking for years.

By this time, Reed no longer worked in the congressman’s office, but as she puts it, “I still couldn’t let it go.” She approached a few staffers in other congressional offices, “people I’d known for years, and asked them point blank, ‘Can you please help us?’ No one would help.”

Hebert and Reed made calls, and tried to get any of the various federal, state, and local agencies they’d been working with to take this new information and renew the investigation with vigor.

“It was out of sheer frustration that my husband and I decided we were going to hire our own PI with our own money,” says Reed. “That’s what led us to Monique.”

View this image ›

Photograph by Chris Tuite for BuzzFeed

Two days after our visit to the Homeland Security office in San Diego, Lessan and I are back in Fontana, staring at that house once again. Hebert has mostly dismissed the possibility that the red-haired woman we saw here days earlier could be her daughter but believes if we talk to Pablo, he might have some clues as to where Lozano and Bianca might be. Lessan wanted to wait to see what Wrighten came up with, and still worries that if she confronts Pablo, he’ll immediately call Lozano with the information. But as Hebert put it during a three-way call with Reed and Lessan the night before, “What’s he going to tell Juan? That I have an investigator? I think he knows that from what we’ve put on Facebook. We’re not going to be any worse off than we are now.”

It’s late afternoon and the plan is to wait until Pablo gets home from work, then knock on the door. If he doesn’t slam it in our faces, Hebert has given us a letter for him that explains her plight. So we wait. And wait. One of the women we saw the other day — short, ponytail, late thirties or early forties — arrives home and goes inside. We wait some more. It’s now almost 7 p.m. and getting dark outside. Where is Pablo? We discuss the possibilities. Maybe he works from home. Maybe he’s unemployed. Maybe he’s out with friends. Time isn’t on our side. Waiting any longer as it gets darker is going to make an already tense doorway confrontation all the more unsettling. Lessan decides it’s time.

She knocks on the door and a female voice from the other side asks, “Who is it?”

“This is Monique. I just wanted to show you something.”

The door opens to reveal the woman with the ponytail, presumably Pablo’s wife. Lessan flashes her private investigator license and explains that we are looking for Pablo, but refuses to explain why. Pablo’s not home, we’re told, but will be soon. The woman asks if Lessan would like to leave a message for him.

“I can just wait,” says Lessan. “I prefer to talk to him, actually.”

“OK,” the woman says warily. “I’ll let him know.” Then she closes the door.

So the wait continues, now on the sidewalk in front of the house. We debate whether Pablo will ever come home tonight, what he’ll say if he does, and how long we can stand around out here on a Wednesday night before someone calls the cops.

By the time Pablo pulls up it’s past 8 p.m. We walk toward him in his driveway, just as his wife comes out the front door again. Lessan introduces herself and asks if we can come inside to show him some information. He looks at us the way you would look at any two strangers who just accosted you in your driveway on a dark Wednesday night insisting, somewhat frantically, that they wanted to come into your house. Lessan presses the case, asking again if we can just come inside for a minute. Pablo and his wife don’t look wary anymore, they look downright scared.

Lessan changes tack and tries to hand Pablo the letter Hebert wrote for him. He recoils from the envelope as if it was radioactive, and mumbles something about not knowing what legal implications might come with accepting the letter. I offer to read it aloud. Nobody objects, so I do.

The letter explains Hebert’s entire agonizing, Kafkaesque, two-decade-long ordeal — the kidnapping, the identity theft, the fruitless searching, the pain of not knowing. It seems to settle the moment. Pablo and his wife look stunned. Lessan asks if she can show them some documentation right here in the driveway. We move under an outdoor floodlight and she lays out the same documents she showed Wrighten on the hood of the family’s car, building the case, piece by piece.

When she’s done, Pablo shakes his head. He hasn’t seen his cousin Juan Lozano since they were kids. He doesn’t know anything about the kidnapping. He didn’t even know he had been married or had kids. He saw Lozano’s parents last year when they came to California for a funeral, but other than that, he’s had hardly any contact with that branch of the family in decades. He expresses a willingness to help find out where his cousin is, but quite sensibly, seems most concerned with the fact that Lozano — an international fugitive — is running around using his identity.

It’s possible that Pablo is lying about all this, and that Lozano and Bianca are hiding in the house right behind us, but I don’t think so. Standing here in the driveway, he and his wife don’t look like accessories to an international abduction. They look like shell-shocked parents. Lessan thanks them for their time, and Pablo promises to get in touch once he’s talked to some of his family.

Back in the minivan, Lessan phones Hebert and Reed. As she drives and talks, she’s emotional, buzzing with adrenaline. She offers a blow-by-blow account of the evening, pausing every few seconds to take a deep breath, and concludes that it went very well.

“He wants to help,” she says, exhaling deeply. “He was very concerned. He wouldn’t give us his phone number but said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to make some calls and get in touch with you.’ I’m glad at his response. Hopefully something will come out of it.”

View this image ›

For a long time, nothing does. For months, there’s no word from Pablo, nothing of note from Wrighten, and after the momentary excitement in Fontana, the investigation has settled back into low gear. There’s no more money for Lessan. All the leads from Norma have been chased down and come to nothing.

In late March, I call Hebert and ask how she’s feeling about the state of the search. “It’s the same old thing — another dead end,” she says. “We spent all this money, and yeah, we made contact with the cousin, but he hasn’t done anything. I don’t know if he’s ever interested in helping.” She sighs. “Everything I do turns up nothing, so I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t let myself get too excited about anything because honestly I can’t handle it anymore. I’m at the point where — I’m not done, but it’s getting to be too much.”

Then in May, Pablo calls. He’s apologetic for not getting in touch sooner, but as Hebert puts it, “He was shocked and felt kind of violated. … He has had to process it on his own.” He suggests the outlines of a possible deal: If Hebert drops the charges against her ex-husband, maybe Lozano would allow Bianca to return to the U.S. and be reunited with her. Hebert immediately agrees. Pablo says they’d need the agreement in writing.

Hebert emails the Harris County assistant district attorney, who makes clear this isn’t something they normally do — “She said, ‘We don’t negotiate with felons. This is not justice’” — but they’ll make an exception. Hebert sends the letter to Pablo, and for the first time in a very long time, she allows herself a measure of optimism.

“Who knows what this is going to turn into, but I have a little hope this is going to work out,” she says. I tell her that it seems like a smart move for Lozano. Whatever his situation in Mexico might be right now, having to keep hawkish watch over a 21-year-old woman is hardly the same as doing so with a young girl. That can’t be much of a life for him. Perhaps he wants out.

“That’s what I think,” she says. “Everybody I’ve talked to says, ‘He’s stupid if he doesn’t do this. He’ll be free.’” She’s thought a lot about what a reunion with her daughter might actually be like. They haven’t seen each other in nearly 20 years. Her daughter has no memory of her. They’d effectively be strangers. Would Bianca move in? Would she call her “Mom”? Who knows, but if nothing else, she’d know the truth.

“Her friends [at music school] told me her dream was to be an American citizen and play music here,” she says. “Everything in her life is a lie: her name, her birthday, her dad’s name, where he came from. … It’s got to be a terrible life. She could have so much if she came here.”

For the next few days, there are droplets of news. An uncle of Lozano’s believes the deal is a good idea and will try to talk to his sister — Lozano’s mom — about it. Other family members apparently agree.

Then for a month, there’s little word at all. Finally, Pablo calls Lozano’s mom himself but can’t reach her. He sends a letter to Lozano’s sister that goes unanswered. When I speak to Hebert in mid-June, she’s frustrated.

“I don’t know why they’re dragging their feet,” she says. “Maybe they don’t want to tell Bianca. I’m not sure how you tell someone their entire life is a lie.”

Two more months pass and I call to get an update. Hebert sighs deeply. “I haven’t heard from them at all,” she says. “I think it’s going to fizzle out.”

She sounds as low as I’ve heard her. After all this — not just these recent events, but years of struggle with cops, private detectives, federal agencies, a congressman, Mexican authorities, nonprofits, volunteers, friends, family, acquaintances, and yes, journalists, with those who were helpful and those who weren’t, dealing with a system seemingly incapable of marshaling its best resources to grapple with a problem that should be solvable — Hebert finds herself no closer to getting her daughter back than she was in 1995. She hasn’t exactly lost hope, but having been through so much with so many people, at the moment, she’s feeling very much alone.

“The thing is about stories like this, people will see it, read it, maybe post it on Facebook, but then they move on with their lives,” she says. “And I’m sitting back here waiting for my daughter to show up.”

Want to read more stories like this? Sign up for our Sunday features newsletter, and we’ll send you a curated list of great things to read every week!

View this embed ›

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/djpeisner/how-the-19-year-search-for-bianca-lozano-explains-the-chaos

[fesahaawit]

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border

[What up, what up! If you’ve ever considered transporting large amounts of cash across international borders, this post is for you ;) As told by Sarah Li Cain from High Fiving Dollars who hopes to never have to do this again! And if you’re reading this on Black Friday – good job. We’re running a site-wide sale today where everything’s 100% off :) Enjoy!]

***********

This is the true story of how we transported $20,000 in cash across international borders. I would have loved to been able to provide photographic evidence of this, but frankly I was scared out of my mind when my boyfriend (now husband) and I decided to actually go through with this.

Instead, here’s a photo of the two of us back in our youth:

[please tell me why I thought those glasses were cool?]

Before I get into how we actually carried across all that money, let’s go over why we actually did it.

I lived in China for 8 years. I must have really liked it because that’s where I met my husband, got married and had a kid.

Among the cool things you get to do? Visit really crazy places. One of the most memorable places was a restaurant called “Modern Toilet” where you literally get served chocolate ice cream in toilet bowls. I’m not kidding.

[The food wasn’t bad!]

While there were many great things I loved about China, unfortunately the major drawback was their banking system. (It has gotten noticeably better over the years for expats, but at the time we were living there it was terribly frustrating)

Language barriers aside, doing any kind of international transactions was a pain in the ass. My husband and I each saved quite a bit of money in our accounts living there, and we both needed to transfer this money into our home country’s accounts to pay bills and for other reasons. This meant that every month or so, we had to go to the bank to do two wire transfers: one to my bank in Canada where I’m originally from, and another into my husband’s account in the U.S..

The rules in China, however, are that you’re only allowed to transfer a certain amount of money internationally every month. On top of that, whenever you wanted to make a transfer you not only needed your IDs, but a whole slew of paperwork as well. This included our work contracts, our Chinese tax returns, official declarations from the government about how much we made, and a stack of forms from the bank. There was also no online banking or instructions/bank tellers who spoke English there at the time (7 years ago), so we had to rely on Google Translate to figure everything out.

I waited at least two hours every time I went to the bank on a good day, and it wasn’t ever fun for the tellers either. They had to stamp every freaking piece of paper, get approval from the manager for every button they pressed on the computer, and all the while trying their best to speak broken English.

My husband didn’t fair any better during his visit either. In fact, he’d go multiple rounds trying to make the transfers happen while each time wasting two hours and then at the end being denied over and over!

We even tried giving Western Union a shot to see if it’d be any easier (and cheaper).

Nope.

We ended up paying almost 10% in fees alone and it was equally as frustrating.

Then one day my husband joked that we should just buy a briefcase and carry all our cash over when we both went home for the holidays.

I’m always up for a challenge, so why the heck not? What could go wrong?

It was about three months from the time we decided to bring cash across to the U.S. and Canada to when we actually did it. Our plan was to exchange our money into U.S. and Canadian currency first, hide it in our apartment, pack it all in a suitcase, and then deposit everything once we landed in our home countries.

We looked up the maximum amount we could each carry across the border, and it came out to $10,000 USD per family. Since my husband and I weren’t technically married yet, that meant we could each carry $10,000 across the border without raising any eyebrows (or so we hoped).

Unfortunately, once again our plan hit some road bumps.

When we tried to convert our Chinese currency (RMB) into U.S. and Canadian dollars at the bank, we were met with solid resistance. The manager would literally give us “a look” and then flat out refuse to speak to us. We later found a translator who told us that it was virtually impossible for even locals to get foreign currency, and that the amount we were requesting was unheard of.

After grilling a local friend for alternatives, we eventually decided to take out Chinese RMB in cash, and then take that directly to a currency exchange stand in order to convert it over. She warned us that these places are usually located in sketchy areas, however, and that not so reputable people hang out there (though I hear it’s not the case anymore). These places will also try to rip you off by giving you decent exchange rates, but then sneaking in counterfeit bills.

So off my husband and I went. We didn’t want to do too large a transaction at first just to be safe, so we started with $1,000 and found a place to exchange our money. My husband is six feet tall and I’m pretty sure that helped keep the loiters at bay. When we got our money, we hid around a corner to check each and every single bill to make sure they were legit, and then went on our merry way when it was good.

It took us about six weeks to exchange $10,000 each. You’re only allowed to exchange a certain amount each time, so we had to make multiple visits which was for the best as neither of us enjoys carrying around too much cash at one time.

During this time we hid the money around our apartments. I literally stuck hundred dollar bills under my mattress among other places as I was so paranoid about someone breaking in! We also hid money:

In jacket pockets

In shoes

In crockpots we barely used

And in tupperware

When it came time to go visit our families at Christmas, we gathered all our money in one place and planned how we were going to pack it all.

I don’t know about you, but seeing $20,000 in physical cash is A LOT. We had it stacked on my bed and it looked like a giant mountain to me. I looked at my husband and literally asked if I could swim in it. After all, it was a once in a lifetime experience!

Next thing we knew, we threw a bunch of bills up in the air and were frolicking around in money. There’s something about doing backstrokes on a bed with $20,000 that does it for you :)

Finally, We Carry The Cash Over

Now came the hard part: how do we actually carry all this cash? Without getting stopped at the border?

We crossed off the suitcase idea as that would just be way too suspicious, and eventually figured that dispersing our money was the way go to. The x-rays will show we had money, but at least there wouldn’t be huge stacks all in one place.

Here’s what my husband did:

Bought special cargo pants with multiple pockets so he could take the cash in and out when going through security

Sewed secret pockets in his laptop case

Rolled up t-shirts in his carry on luggage with money in it

Carried cash in his wallet

Here’s what I did:

Hid cash in my laptop case and purse

Stuffed some money in my bra (this was before those fancy machines at the TSA security check)

Stuffed money in my makeup case

Put bills in-between pages of the books I was “reading”

Keep in mind, we weren’t doing anything illegal although it sure as hell felt like we were. In hindsight we probably went a little crazy on hiding everything, but I wasn’t going to take any chances with people either stealing from us or being stopped at the border. Our track record up to this point hadn’t been that smooth.

Then off we went!

Step #1: Go through security in China and board the plane. Success! We stated we were carrying cash, but nobody asked us how much so we easily got our exit stamps.

Step #2: Relax on the plane. Fail. We could barely sleep, as we were just too paranoid the entire trip.

Step #3: Get across the U.S. border! (We made our first stop in my husband’s country before heading to Canada). My hands were shaking the entire time as I filled out the immigration form –  I felt like I was lying when the form asked if I was carrying more than $10,000 in cash, but I checked the “no” box.

Then it was the moment of truth…

I walked over to the customs agent, he looks at me and then down at the form, asks me where I’m staying (I manage to utter “my future in-laws”), looks back down again, and then stamps the passport and says, “have a nice time.”

And just like that it was over! WE DID IT!!

My husband had the same experience clearing customs, and it was a piece of cake getting the second half of our money into my Canadian bank as well.

Pretty anti-climactic, I know – sorry – but what a whirlwind getting to this point… I’m just super grateful I never have to deal with this again. Though I have to admit, it was pretty fun swimming in all that money for a few minutes!

Anyone else ever launder move large amounts of cash across the border? Any tips for anyone who may have to do it themselves one day?

******* Sarah Li Cain is a financial storyteller who weaves practical tips and strategies into her work so that others trying to change their mindset can see themselves in the starring role. She loves answering reader questions on her blog, HighFivingDollars.com, and openly shares her financial struggles through different experiments she runs. Check out her “Ultimate Guide to Money Mindset Mastery!”

Other fun gems for your viewing pleasure today:

That Time I Woke Up From a “Bill Coma” and Started Saving My $$$!

That Time I Borrowed $14,000… Then Gave it Right Back

That Time I Got in (Another) Car Accident…

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border posted first on http://ift.tt/2lnwIdQ

[heliosfinance]

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border

[What up, what up! If you’ve ever considered transporting large amounts of cash across international borders, this post is for you ;) As told by Sarah Li Cain from High Fiving Dollars who hopes to never have to do this again! And if you’re reading this on Black Friday – good job. We’re running a site-wide sale today where everything’s 100% off :) Enjoy!]

***********

This is the true story of how we transported $20,000 in cash across international borders. I would have loved to been able to provide photographic evidence of this, but frankly I was scared out of my mind when my boyfriend (now husband) and I decided to actually go through with this.

Instead, here’s a photo of the two of us back in our youth:

[please tell me why I thought those glasses were cool?]

Before I get into how we actually carried across all that money, let’s go over why we actually did it.

I lived in China for 8 years. I must have really liked it because that’s where I met my husband, got married and had a kid.

Among the cool things you get to do? Visit really crazy places. One of the most memorable places was a restaurant called “Modern Toilet” where you literally get served chocolate ice cream in toilet bowls. I’m not kidding.

[The food wasn’t bad!]

While there were many great things I loved about China, unfortunately the major drawback was their banking system. (It has gotten noticeably better over the years for expats, but at the time we were living there it was terribly frustrating)

Language barriers aside, doing any kind of international transactions was a pain in the ass. My husband and I each saved quite a bit of money in our accounts living there, and we both needed to transfer this money into our home country’s accounts to pay bills and for other reasons. This meant that every month or so, we had to go to the bank to do two wire transfers: one to my bank in Canada where I’m originally from, and another into my husband’s account in the U.S..

The rules in China, however, are that you’re only allowed to transfer a certain amount of money internationally every month. On top of that, whenever you wanted to make a transfer you not only needed your IDs, but a whole slew of paperwork as well. This included our work contracts, our Chinese tax returns, official declarations from the government about how much we made, and a stack of forms from the bank. There was also no online banking or instructions/bank tellers who spoke English there at the time (7 years ago), so we had to rely on Google Translate to figure everything out.

I waited at least two hours every time I went to the bank on a good day, and it wasn’t ever fun for the tellers either. They had to stamp every freaking piece of paper, get approval from the manager for every button they pressed on the computer, and all the while trying their best to speak broken English.

My husband didn’t fair any better during his visit either. In fact, he’d go multiple rounds trying to make the transfers happen while each time wasting two hours and then at the end being denied over and over!

We even tried giving Western Union a shot to see if it’d be any easier (and cheaper).

Nope.

We ended up paying almost 10% in fees alone and it was equally as frustrating.

Then one day my husband joked that we should just buy a briefcase and carry all our cash over when we both went home for the holidays.

I’m always up for a challenge, so why the heck not? What could go wrong?

It was about three months from the time we decided to bring cash across to the U.S. and Canada to when we actually did it. Our plan was to exchange our money into U.S. and Canadian currency first, hide it in our apartment, pack it all in a suitcase, and then deposit everything once we landed in our home countries.

We looked up the maximum amount we could each carry across the border, and it came out to $10,000 USD per family. Since my husband and I weren’t technically married yet, that meant we could each carry $10,000 across the border without raising any eyebrows (or so we hoped).

Unfortunately, once again our plan hit some road bumps.

When we tried to convert our Chinese currency (RMB) into U.S. and Canadian dollars at the bank, we were met with solid resistance. The manager would literally give us “a look” and then flat out refuse to speak to us. We later found a translator who told us that it was virtually impossible for even locals to get foreign currency, and that the amount we were requesting was unheard of.

After grilling a local friend for alternatives, we eventually decided to take out Chinese RMB in cash, and then take that directly to a currency exchange stand in order to convert it over. She warned us that these places are usually located in sketchy areas, however, and that not so reputable people hang out there (though I hear it’s not the case anymore). These places will also try to rip you off by giving you decent exchange rates, but then sneaking in counterfeit bills.

So off my husband and I went. We didn’t want to do too large a transaction at first just to be safe, so we started with $1,000 and found a place to exchange our money. My husband is six feet tall and I’m pretty sure that helped keep the loiters at bay. When we got our money, we hid around a corner to check each and every single bill to make sure they were legit, and then went on our merry way when it was good.

It took us about six weeks to exchange $10,000 each. You’re only allowed to exchange a certain amount each time, so we had to make multiple visits which was for the best as neither of us enjoys carrying around too much cash at one time.

During this time we hid the money around our apartments. I literally stuck hundred dollar bills under my mattress among other places as I was so paranoid about someone breaking in! We also hid money:

In jacket pockets

In shoes

In crockpots we barely used

And in tupperware

When it came time to go visit our families at Christmas, we gathered all our money in one place and planned how we were going to pack it all.

I don’t know about you, but seeing $20,000 in physical cash is A LOT. We had it stacked on my bed and it looked like a giant mountain to me. I looked at my husband and literally asked if I could swim in it. After all, it was a once in a lifetime experience!

Next thing we knew, we threw a bunch of bills up in the air and were frolicking around in money. There’s something about doing backstrokes on a bed with $20,000 that does it for you :)

Finally, We Carry The Cash Over

Now came the hard part: how do we actually carry all this cash? Without getting stopped at the border?

We crossed off the suitcase idea as that would just be way too suspicious, and eventually figured that dispersing our money was the way go to. The x-rays will show we had money, but at least there wouldn’t be huge stacks all in one place.

Here’s what my husband did:

Bought special cargo pants with multiple pockets so he could take the cash in and out when going through security

Sewed secret pockets in his laptop case

Rolled up t-shirts in his carry on luggage with money in it

Carried cash in his wallet

Here’s what I did:

Hid cash in my laptop case and purse

Stuffed some money in my bra (this was before those fancy machines at the TSA security check)

Stuffed money in my makeup case

Put bills in-between pages of the books I was “reading”

Keep in mind, we weren’t doing anything illegal although it sure as hell felt like we were. In hindsight we probably went a little crazy on hiding everything, but I wasn’t going to take any chances with people either stealing from us or being stopped at the border. Our track record up to this point hadn’t been that smooth.

Then off we went!

Step #1: Go through security in China and board the plane. Success! We stated we were carrying cash, but nobody asked us how much so we easily got our exit stamps.

Step #2: Relax on the plane. Fail. We could barely sleep, as we were just too paranoid the entire trip.

Step #3: Get across the U.S. border! (We made our first stop in my husband’s country before heading to Canada). My hands were shaking the entire time as I filled out the immigration form –  I felt like I was lying when the form asked if I was carrying more than $10,000 in cash, but I checked the “no” box.

Then it was the moment of truth…

I walked over to the customs agent, he looks at me and then down at the form, asks me where I’m staying (I manage to utter “my future in-laws”), looks back down again, and then stamps the passport and says, “have a nice time.”

And just like that it was over! WE DID IT!!

My husband had the same experience clearing customs, and it was a piece of cake getting the second half of our money into my Canadian bank as well.

Pretty anti-climactic, I know – sorry – but what a whirlwind getting to this point… I’m just super grateful I never have to deal with this again. Though I have to admit, it was pretty fun swimming in all that money for a few minutes!

Anyone else ever launder move large amounts of cash across the border? Any tips for anyone who may have to do it themselves one day?

******* Sarah Li Cain is a financial storyteller who weaves practical tips and strategies into her work so that others trying to change their mindset can see themselves in the starring role. She loves answering reader questions on her blog, HighFivingDollars.com, and openly shares her financial struggles through different experiments she runs. Check out her “Ultimate Guide to Money Mindset Mastery!”

Other fun gems for your viewing pleasure today:

That Time I Woke Up From a “Bill Coma” and Started Saving My $$$!

That Time I Borrowed $14,000… Then Gave it Right Back

That Time I Got in (Another) Car Accident…

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border published first on http://ift.tt/2ljLF4B

[fesahaawit]

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border

[What up, what up! If you’ve ever considered transporting large amounts of cash across international borders, this post is for you ;) As told by Sarah Li Cain from High Fiving Dollars who hopes to never have to do this again! And if you’re reading this on Black Friday – good job. We’re running a site-wide sale today where everything’s 100% off :) Enjoy!]

***********

This is the true story of how we transported $20,000 in cash across international borders. I would have loved to been able to provide photographic evidence of this, but frankly I was scared out of my mind when my boyfriend (now husband) and I decided to actually go through with this.

Instead, here’s a photo of the two of us back in our youth:

[please tell me why I thought those glasses were cool?]

Before I get into how we actually carried across all that money, let’s go over why we actually did it.

I lived in China for 8 years. I must have really liked it because that’s where I met my husband, got married and had a kid.

Among the cool things you get to do? Visit really crazy places. One of the most memorable places was a restaurant called “Modern Toilet” where you literally get served chocolate ice cream in toilet bowls. I’m not kidding.

[The food wasn’t bad!]

While there were many great things I loved about China, unfortunately the major drawback was their banking system. (It has gotten noticeably better over the years for expats, but at the time we were living there it was terribly frustrating)

Language barriers aside, doing any kind of international transactions was a pain in the ass. My husband and I each saved quite a bit of money in our accounts living there, and we both needed to transfer this money into our home country’s accounts to pay bills and for other reasons. This meant that every month or so, we had to go to the bank to do two wire transfers: one to my bank in Canada where I’m originally from, and another into my husband’s account in the U.S..

The rules in China, however, are that you’re only allowed to transfer a certain amount of money internationally every month. On top of that, whenever you wanted to make a transfer you not only needed your IDs, but a whole slew of paperwork as well. This included our work contracts, our Chinese tax returns, official declarations from the government about how much we made, and a stack of forms from the bank. There was also no online banking or instructions/bank tellers who spoke English there at the time (7 years ago), so we had to rely on Google Translate to figure everything out.

I waited at least two hours every time I went to the bank on a good day, and it wasn’t ever fun for the tellers either. They had to stamp every freaking piece of paper, get approval from the manager for every button they pressed on the computer, and all the while trying their best to speak broken English.

My husband didn’t fair any better during his visit either. In fact, he’d go multiple rounds trying to make the transfers happen while each time wasting two hours and then at the end being denied over and over!

We even tried giving Western Union a shot to see if it’d be any easier (and cheaper).

Nope.

We ended up paying almost 10% in fees alone and it was equally as frustrating.

Then one day my husband joked that we should just buy a briefcase and carry all our cash over when we both went home for the holidays.

I’m always up for a challenge, so why the heck not? What could go wrong?

It was about three months from the time we decided to bring cash across to the U.S. and Canada to when we actually did it. Our plan was to exchange our money into U.S. and Canadian currency first, hide it in our apartment, pack it all in a suitcase, and then deposit everything once we landed in our home countries.

We looked up the maximum amount we could each carry across the border, and it came out to $10,000 USD per family. Since my husband and I weren’t technically married yet, that meant we could each carry $10,000 across the border without raising any eyebrows (or so we hoped).

Unfortunately, once again our plan hit some road bumps.

When we tried to convert our Chinese currency (RMB) into U.S. and Canadian dollars at the bank, we were met with solid resistance. The manager would literally give us “a look” and then flat out refuse to speak to us. We later found a translator who told us that it was virtually impossible for even locals to get foreign currency, and that the amount we were requesting was unheard of.

After grilling a local friend for alternatives, we eventually decided to take out Chinese RMB in cash, and then take that directly to a currency exchange stand in order to convert it over. She warned us that these places are usually located in sketchy areas, however, and that not so reputable people hang out there (though I hear it’s not the case anymore). These places will also try to rip you off by giving you decent exchange rates, but then sneaking in counterfeit bills.

So off my husband and I went. We didn’t want to do too large a transaction at first just to be safe, so we started with $1,000 and found a place to exchange our money. My husband is six feet tall and I’m pretty sure that helped keep the loiters at bay. When we got our money, we hid around a corner to check each and every single bill to make sure they were legit, and then went on our merry way when it was good.

It took us about six weeks to exchange $10,000 each. You’re only allowed to exchange a certain amount each time, so we had to make multiple visits which was for the best as neither of us enjoys carrying around too much cash at one time.

During this time we hid the money around our apartments. I literally stuck hundred dollar bills under my mattress among other places as I was so paranoid about someone breaking in! We also hid money:

In jacket pockets

In shoes

In crockpots we barely used

And in tupperware

When it came time to go visit our families at Christmas, we gathered all our money in one place and planned how we were going to pack it all.

I don’t know about you, but seeing $20,000 in physical cash is A LOT. We had it stacked on my bed and it looked like a giant mountain to me. I looked at my husband and literally asked if I could swim in it. After all, it was a once in a lifetime experience!

Next thing we knew, we threw a bunch of bills up in the air and were frolicking around in money. There’s something about doing backstrokes on a bed with $20,000 that does it for you :)

Finally, We Carry The Cash Over

Now came the hard part: how do we actually carry all this cash? Without getting stopped at the border?

We crossed off the suitcase idea as that would just be way too suspicious, and eventually figured that dispersing our money was the way go to. The x-rays will show we had money, but at least there wouldn’t be huge stacks all in one place.

Here’s what my husband did:

Bought special cargo pants with multiple pockets so he could take the cash in and out when going through security

Sewed secret pockets in his laptop case

Rolled up t-shirts in his carry on luggage with money in it

Carried cash in his wallet

Here’s what I did:

Hid cash in my laptop case and purse

Stuffed some money in my bra (this was before those fancy machines at the TSA security check)

Stuffed money in my makeup case

Put bills in-between pages of the books I was “reading”

Keep in mind, we weren’t doing anything illegal although it sure as hell felt like we were. In hindsight we probably went a little crazy on hiding everything, but I wasn’t going to take any chances with people either stealing from us or being stopped at the border. Our track record up to this point hadn’t been that smooth.

Then off we went!

Step #1: Go through security in China and board the plane. Success! We stated we were carrying cash, but nobody asked us how much so we easily got our exit stamps.

Step #2: Relax on the plane. Fail. We could barely sleep, as we were just too paranoid the entire trip.

Step #3: Get across the U.S. border! (We made our first stop in my husband’s country before heading to Canada). My hands were shaking the entire time as I filled out the immigration form –  I felt like I was lying when the form asked if I was carrying more than $10,000 in cash, but I checked the “no” box.

Then it was the moment of truth…

I walked over to the customs agent, he looks at me and then down at the form, asks me where I’m staying (I manage to utter “my future in-laws”), looks back down again, and then stamps the passport and says, “have a nice time.”

And just like that it was over! WE DID IT!!

My husband had the same experience clearing customs, and it was a piece of cake getting the second half of our money into my Canadian bank as well.

Pretty anti-climactic, I know – sorry – but what a whirlwind getting to this point… I’m just super grateful I never have to deal with this again. Though I have to admit, it was pretty fun swimming in all that money for a few minutes!

Anyone else ever launder move large amounts of cash across the border? Any tips for anyone who may have to do it themselves one day?

******* Sarah Li Cain is a financial storyteller who weaves practical tips and strategies into her work so that others trying to change their mindset can see themselves in the starring role. She loves answering reader questions on her blog, HighFivingDollars.com, and openly shares her financial struggles through different experiments she runs. Check out her “Ultimate Guide to Money Mindset Mastery!”

Other fun gems for your viewing pleasure today:

That Time I Woke Up From a “Bill Coma” and Started Saving My $$$!

That Time I Borrowed $14,000… Then Gave it Right Back

That Time I Got in (Another) Car Accident…

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border posted first on http://ift.tt/2lnwIdQ

[fesahaawit]

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border

[What up, what up! If you’ve ever considered transporting large amounts of cash across international borders, this post is for you ;) As told by Sarah Li Cain from High Fiving Dollars who hopes to never have to do this again! And if you’re reading this on Black Friday – good job. We’re running a site-wide sale today where everything’s 100% off :) Enjoy!]

***********

This is the true story of how we transported $20,000 in cash across international borders. I would have loved to been able to provide photographic evidence of this, but frankly I was scared out of my mind when my boyfriend (now husband) and I decided to actually go through with this.

Instead, here’s a photo of the two of us back in our youth:

[please tell me why I thought those glasses were cool?]

Before I get into how we actually carried across all that money, let’s go over why we actually did it.

I lived in China for 8 years. I must have really liked it because that’s where I met my husband, got married and had a kid.

Among the cool things you get to do? Visit really crazy places. One of the most memorable places was a restaurant called “Modern Toilet” where you literally get served chocolate ice cream in toilet bowls. I’m not kidding.

[The food wasn’t bad!]

While there were many great things I loved about China, unfortunately the major drawback was their banking system. (It has gotten noticeably better over the years for expats, but at the time we were living there it was terribly frustrating)

Language barriers aside, doing any kind of international transactions was a pain in the ass. My husband and I each saved quite a bit of money in our accounts living there, and we both needed to transfer this money into our home country’s accounts to pay bills and for other reasons. This meant that every month or so, we had to go to the bank to do two wire transfers: one to my bank in Canada where I’m originally from, and another into my husband’s account in the U.S..

The rules in China, however, are that you’re only allowed to transfer a certain amount of money internationally every month. On top of that, whenever you wanted to make a transfer you not only needed your IDs, but a whole slew of paperwork as well. This included our work contracts, our Chinese tax returns, official declarations from the government about how much we made, and a stack of forms from the bank. There was also no online banking or instructions/bank tellers who spoke English there at the time (7 years ago), so we had to rely on Google Translate to figure everything out.

I waited at least two hours every time I went to the bank on a good day, and it wasn’t ever fun for the tellers either. They had to stamp every freaking piece of paper, get approval from the manager for every button they pressed on the computer, and all the while trying their best to speak broken English.

My husband didn’t fair any better during his visit either. In fact, he’d go multiple rounds trying to make the transfers happen while each time wasting two hours and then at the end being denied over and over!

We even tried giving Western Union a shot to see if it’d be any easier (and cheaper).

Nope.

We ended up paying almost 10% in fees alone and it was equally as frustrating.

Then one day my husband joked that we should just buy a briefcase and carry all our cash over when we both went home for the holidays.

I’m always up for a challenge, so why the heck not? What could go wrong?

It was about three months from the time we decided to bring cash across to the U.S. and Canada to when we actually did it. Our plan was to exchange our money into U.S. and Canadian currency first, hide it in our apartment, pack it all in a suitcase, and then deposit everything once we landed in our home countries.

We looked up the maximum amount we could each carry across the border, and it came out to $10,000 USD per family. Since my husband and I weren’t technically married yet, that meant we could each carry $10,000 across the border without raising any eyebrows (or so we hoped).

Unfortunately, once again our plan hit some road bumps.

When we tried to convert our Chinese currency (RMB) into U.S. and Canadian dollars at the bank, we were met with solid resistance. The manager would literally give us “a look” and then flat out refuse to speak to us. We later found a translator who told us that it was virtually impossible for even locals to get foreign currency, and that the amount we were requesting was unheard of.

After grilling a local friend for alternatives, we eventually decided to take out Chinese RMB in cash, and then take that directly to a currency exchange stand in order to convert it over. She warned us that these places are usually located in sketchy areas, however, and that not so reputable people hang out there (though I hear it’s not the case anymore). These places will also try to rip you off by giving you decent exchange rates, but then sneaking in counterfeit bills.

So off my husband and I went. We didn’t want to do too large a transaction at first just to be safe, so we started with $1,000 and found a place to exchange our money. My husband is six feet tall and I’m pretty sure that helped keep the loiters at bay. When we got our money, we hid around a corner to check each and every single bill to make sure they were legit, and then went on our merry way when it was good.

It took us about six weeks to exchange $10,000 each. You’re only allowed to exchange a certain amount each time, so we had to make multiple visits which was for the best as neither of us enjoys carrying around too much cash at one time.

During this time we hid the money around our apartments. I literally stuck hundred dollar bills under my mattress among other places as I was so paranoid about someone breaking in! We also hid money:

In jacket pockets

In shoes

In crockpots we barely used

And in tupperware

When it came time to go visit our families at Christmas, we gathered all our money in one place and planned how we were going to pack it all.

I don’t know about you, but seeing $20,000 in physical cash is A LOT. We had it stacked on my bed and it looked like a giant mountain to me. I looked at my husband and literally asked if I could swim in it. After all, it was a once in a lifetime experience!

Next thing we knew, we threw a bunch of bills up in the air and were frolicking around in money. There’s something about doing backstrokes on a bed with $20,000 that does it for you :)

Finally, We Carry The Cash Over

Now came the hard part: how do we actually carry all this cash? Without getting stopped at the border?

We crossed off the suitcase idea as that would just be way too suspicious, and eventually figured that dispersing our money was the way go to. The x-rays will show we had money, but at least there wouldn’t be huge stacks all in one place.

Here’s what my husband did:

Bought special cargo pants with multiple pockets so he could take the cash in and out when going through security

Sewed secret pockets in his laptop case

Rolled up t-shirts in his carry on luggage with money in it

Carried cash in his wallet

Here’s what I did:

Hid cash in my laptop case and purse

Stuffed some money in my bra (this was before those fancy machines at the TSA security check)

Stuffed money in my makeup case

Put bills in-between pages of the books I was “reading”

Keep in mind, we weren’t doing anything illegal although it sure as hell felt like we were. In hindsight we probably went a little crazy on hiding everything, but I wasn’t going to take any chances with people either stealing from us or being stopped at the border. Our track record up to this point hadn’t been that smooth.

Then off we went!

Step #1: Go through security in China and board the plane. Success! We stated we were carrying cash, but nobody asked us how much so we easily got our exit stamps.

Step #2: Relax on the plane. Fail. We could barely sleep, as we were just too paranoid the entire trip.

Step #3: Get across the U.S. border! (We made our first stop in my husband’s country before heading to Canada). My hands were shaking the entire time as I filled out the immigration form –  I felt like I was lying when the form asked if I was carrying more than $10,000 in cash, but I checked the “no” box.

Then it was the moment of truth…

I walked over to the customs agent, he looks at me and then down at the form, asks me where I’m staying (I manage to utter “my future in-laws”), looks back down again, and then stamps the passport and says, “have a nice time.”

And just like that it was over! WE DID IT!!

My husband had the same experience clearing customs, and it was a piece of cake getting the second half of our money into my Canadian bank as well.

Pretty anti-climactic, I know – sorry – but what a whirlwind getting to this point… I’m just super grateful I never have to deal with this again. Though I have to admit, it was pretty fun swimming in all that money for a few minutes!

Anyone else ever launder move large amounts of cash across the border? Any tips for anyone who may have to do it themselves one day?

******* Sarah Li Cain is a financial storyteller who weaves practical tips and strategies into her work so that others trying to change their mindset can see themselves in the starring role. She loves answering reader questions on her blog, HighFivingDollars.com, and openly shares her financial struggles through different experiments she runs. Check out her “Ultimate Guide to Money Mindset Mastery!”

Other fun gems for your viewing pleasure today:

That Time I Woke Up From a “Bill Coma” and Started Saving My $$$!

That Time I Borrowed $14,000… Then Gave it Right Back

That Time I Got in (Another) Car Accident…

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border posted first on http://ift.tt/2lnwIdQ

[heliosfinance]

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border

[What up, what up! If you’ve ever considered transporting large amounts of cash across international borders, this post is for you ;) As told by Sarah Li Cain from High Fiving Dollars who hopes to never have to do this again! And if you’re reading this on Black Friday – good job. We’re running a site-wide sale today where everything’s 100% off :) Enjoy!]

***********

This is the true story of how we transported $20,000 in cash across international borders. I would have loved to been able to provide photographic evidence of this, but frankly I was scared out of my mind when my boyfriend (now husband) and I decided to actually go through with this.

Instead, here’s a photo of the two of us back in our youth:

[please tell me why I thought those glasses were cool?]

Before I get into how we actually carried across all that money, let’s go over why we actually did it.

I lived in China for 8 years. I must have really liked it because that’s where I met my husband, got married and had a kid.

Among the cool things you get to do? Visit really crazy places. One of the most memorable places was a restaurant called “Modern Toilet” where you literally get served chocolate ice cream in toilet bowls. I’m not kidding.

[The food wasn’t bad!]

While there were many great things I loved about China, unfortunately the major drawback was their banking system. (It has gotten noticeably better over the years for expats, but at the time we were living there it was terribly frustrating)

Language barriers aside, doing any kind of international transactions was a pain in the ass. My husband and I each saved quite a bit of money in our accounts living there, and we both needed to transfer this money into our home country’s accounts to pay bills and for other reasons. This meant that every month or so, we had to go to the bank to do two wire transfers: one to my bank in Canada where I’m originally from, and another into my husband’s account in the U.S..

The rules in China, however, are that you’re only allowed to transfer a certain amount of money internationally every month. On top of that, whenever you wanted to make a transfer you not only needed your IDs, but a whole slew of paperwork as well. This included our work contracts, our Chinese tax returns, official declarations from the government about how much we made, and a stack of forms from the bank. There was also no online banking or instructions/bank tellers who spoke English there at the time (7 years ago), so we had to rely on Google Translate to figure everything out.

I waited at least two hours every time I went to the bank on a good day, and it wasn’t ever fun for the tellers either. They had to stamp every freaking piece of paper, get approval from the manager for every button they pressed on the computer, and all the while trying their best to speak broken English.

My husband didn’t fair any better during his visit either. In fact, he’d go multiple rounds trying to make the transfers happen while each time wasting two hours and then at the end being denied over and over!

We even tried giving Western Union a shot to see if it’d be any easier (and cheaper).

Nope.

We ended up paying almost 10% in fees alone and it was equally as frustrating.

Then one day my husband joked that we should just buy a briefcase and carry all our cash over when we both went home for the holidays.

I’m always up for a challenge, so why the heck not? What could go wrong?

It was about three months from the time we decided to bring cash across to the U.S. and Canada to when we actually did it. Our plan was to exchange our money into U.S. and Canadian currency first, hide it in our apartment, pack it all in a suitcase, and then deposit everything once we landed in our home countries.

We looked up the maximum amount we could each carry across the border, and it came out to $10,000 USD per family. Since my husband and I weren’t technically married yet, that meant we could each carry $10,000 across the border without raising any eyebrows (or so we hoped).

Unfortunately, once again our plan hit some road bumps.

When we tried to convert our Chinese currency (RMB) into U.S. and Canadian dollars at the bank, we were met with solid resistance. The manager would literally give us “a look” and then flat out refuse to speak to us. We later found a translator who told us that it was virtually impossible for even locals to get foreign currency, and that the amount we were requesting was unheard of.

After grilling a local friend for alternatives, we eventually decided to take out Chinese RMB in cash, and then take that directly to a currency exchange stand in order to convert it over. She warned us that these places are usually located in sketchy areas, however, and that not so reputable people hang out there (though I hear it’s not the case anymore). These places will also try to rip you off by giving you decent exchange rates, but then sneaking in counterfeit bills.

So off my husband and I went. We didn’t want to do too large a transaction at first just to be safe, so we started with $1,000 and found a place to exchange our money. My husband is six feet tall and I’m pretty sure that helped keep the loiters at bay. When we got our money, we hid around a corner to check each and every single bill to make sure they were legit, and then went on our merry way when it was good.

It took us about six weeks to exchange $10,000 each. You’re only allowed to exchange a certain amount each time, so we had to make multiple visits which was for the best as neither of us enjoys carrying around too much cash at one time.

During this time we hid the money around our apartments. I literally stuck hundred dollar bills under my mattress among other places as I was so paranoid about someone breaking in! We also hid money:

In jacket pockets

In shoes

In crockpots we barely used

And in tupperware

When it came time to go visit our families at Christmas, we gathered all our money in one place and planned how we were going to pack it all.

I don’t know about you, but seeing $20,000 in physical cash is A LOT. We had it stacked on my bed and it looked like a giant mountain to me. I looked at my husband and literally asked if I could swim in it. After all, it was a once in a lifetime experience!

Next thing we knew, we threw a bunch of bills up in the air and were frolicking around in money. There’s something about doing backstrokes on a bed with $20,000 that does it for you :)

Finally, We Carry The Cash Over

Now came the hard part: how do we actually carry all this cash? Without getting stopped at the border?

We crossed off the suitcase idea as that would just be way too suspicious, and eventually figured that dispersing our money was the way go to. The x-rays will show we had money, but at least there wouldn’t be huge stacks all in one place.

Here’s what my husband did:

Bought special cargo pants with multiple pockets so he could take the cash in and out when going through security

Sewed secret pockets in his laptop case

Rolled up t-shirts in his carry on luggage with money in it

Carried cash in his wallet

Here’s what I did:

Hid cash in my laptop case and purse

Stuffed some money in my bra (this was before those fancy machines at the TSA security check)

Stuffed money in my makeup case

Put bills in-between pages of the books I was “reading”

Keep in mind, we weren’t doing anything illegal although it sure as hell felt like we were. In hindsight we probably went a little crazy on hiding everything, but I wasn’t going to take any chances with people either stealing from us or being stopped at the border. Our track record up to this point hadn’t been that smooth.

Then off we went!

Step #1: Go through security in China and board the plane. Success! We stated we were carrying cash, but nobody asked us how much so we easily got our exit stamps.

Step #2: Relax on the plane. Fail. We could barely sleep, as we were just too paranoid the entire trip.

Step #3: Get across the U.S. border! (We made our first stop in my husband’s country before heading to Canada). My hands were shaking the entire time as I filled out the immigration form –  I felt like I was lying when the form asked if I was carrying more than $10,000 in cash, but I checked the “no” box.

Then it was the moment of truth…

I walked over to the customs agent, he looks at me and then down at the form, asks me where I’m staying (I manage to utter “my future in-laws”), looks back down again, and then stamps the passport and says, “have a nice time.”

And just like that it was over! WE DID IT!!

My husband had the same experience clearing customs, and it was a piece of cake getting the second half of our money into my Canadian bank as well.

Pretty anti-climactic, I know – sorry – but what a whirlwind getting to this point… I’m just super grateful I never have to deal with this again. Though I have to admit, it was pretty fun swimming in all that money for a few minutes!

Anyone else ever launder move large amounts of cash across the border? Any tips for anyone who may have to do it themselves one day?

******* Sarah Li Cain is a financial storyteller who weaves practical tips and strategies into her work so that others trying to change their mindset can see themselves in the starring role. She loves answering reader questions on her blog, HighFivingDollars.com, and openly shares her financial struggles through different experiments she runs. Check out her “Ultimate Guide to Money Mindset Mastery!”

Other fun gems for your viewing pleasure today:

That Time I Woke Up From a “Bill Coma” and Started Saving My $$$!

That Time I Borrowed $14,000… Then Gave it Right Back

That Time I Got in (Another) Car Accident…

That Time We Carried $20,000 Across The Border published first on http://ift.tt/2ljLF4B