Spring has finally rolled back around so it's time to get back to work! Starting with selling these wine bottles that have aged all winter.

Beware of Karen Ch. 2

Sorry this took so long, had other priorities but here is the long awaited chapter 2 of Beware of Karen.

Summary: After Guybrush and Stan fail to deal with the latter’s ex-wife, Elaine decides to throw her hat into the ring. It goes about as well as you expect. ---------

Elaine hummed to herself as she set the table. While Guybrush was admittedly the better cook of the two, she still wanted to surprise her Pikaroni with a nice romantic dinner. Preferably without a certain plaid wearing charlatan joining them.

While Elaine had nothing against Stan… well okay maybe she had a lot against Stan… but that wasn’t the point, she’d prefer if he hadn’t attempted to drag her and Guybrush in an ex-lover’s quarrel of all things.

But she trusted Guybrush’s wit and uncanny ability to find absurd but simple solutions to absurd problems.

Before long, she could hear footsteps on the deck, she quickly lit the candles and plated the food.

“Welcome back, sugarboots! I hope you’re...”

The door opened and in came Guybrush… and Stan.

“Hey honey! Ooh are those potstickers I smell?”

“...Guybrush… I thought you were going to help Stan with his ex-wife and thus he would not bother us.” Elaine said, gritting her teeth

Guybrush, to his credit, looked apologetic.

“Well I did try, I honestly did but well… let’s just say Stan wasn’t exaggerating about how awful Karen is. So I guess Stan will be staying with us until Karen leaves.”

Elaine groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Guybrush sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I know, I was really excited for all the quality time too but Elaine, you have no idea just how evil this woman is. I couldn’t just leave Stan to fend for himself against her, I’m a pirate not a monster!”

“...Really? And please do tell me, what makes her so terrible that Stan has to go in hiding with us?” Elaine asked, clearly unconvinced

“Well first: I could barely breathe around her stall, the perfume she was selling was that thick! She was also really pushy with the sales pitch like waaaaay worse than Stan. She also kept making all these mean comments about me being a terrible husband and how our marriage would fall apart if I didn’t buy her stuff. And she threatened to call the island authorities on Stan if he even thought of setting up shop near her! And he didn’t even do anything!”

Elaine raised an eyebrow, “Hm, I admit she does actually sound awful. But being pushy and rude are hardly the crimes of the century, sweetie.”

“Oh it goes beyond “pushy and rude.”” remarked Stan, mouth full of potstickers

“Karen thrives on “the hunt.” All she cares about is her next sale!"

"...Sounds like you." Elaine and Guybrush both remarked

"Oh no no no, my friends. I admit that Ol' Stan here may have exaggerated or cut some corners here and there. But hey sometimes that's what you gotta do when your clientele are a buncha rowdy swashbucklers!"

Stan continued, while grabbing another pot sticker, "Karen on the other hand… she has no respect for the art of sales, it's all a means to an end for her. And if anyone gets in the way of that precious end sale even if it’s only in her mind, she will destroy you! By the way, these are amazing, you could make a killing selling these.”

Once again, Elaine found herself not entirely convinced.  Stan stuffing himself with the food she made for herself and Guybrush didn’t help his case. But he also couldn’t really be considered a reliable narrator. And Guybrush, her dear Threepy, the love of her life… well he was quite prone to exaggeration.

Elaine sighed, well she wouldn’t be where she was now if she just sat and complained about a bad situation.

“Perhaps… I should speak to her…”

“NO!” Shouted both Guybrush and Stan

She just gave them a confident smile, “Oh don’t worry about me. I’m sure if I went without Stan, she won’t be as volatile. And besides, all my years as governor has given me quite the experience of negotiating with stubborn egotistic business owners. You remember that incident at the O'Malley's Galley last year, don’t you dear?”

Guybrush let out a small laugh and a blush, obviously remembering how Elaine dealt with the restaurant's owner after the man refused Guybrush's request to not serve the food on porcelain plates.

Elaine kissed Guybrush on the cheek, "I'll be fine dear. You just relax and I'll come back with the good news."

Then she looked over at Stan, "...And I suppose you just do what you can to entertain yourself."

And with that, Elaine made her way off the boat and into town. As she made her way, she kept rehearsing in her head how she'd calmly confront Karen.

However when Elaine arrived and started asking the other merchants about Karen, a feeling of dread began to form.

They were all smiles and sales until Elaine explained who she was looking for. They all suddenly dropped their grins and immediately apologized to Elaine for "wasting her time."

The most concerning interaction was from one merchant who told Elaine where Karen was then immediately begged her to not tell Karen that the two of them spoke.

Before long, Elaine found the woman of the hour making a sale.

"Trust me, dearie, this color and this scent are perfect for you! You'll be catching everyone's eye in no time!"

The female pirate grinned as she paid for her goods.

"Just remember, no refunds on used products."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Look out, Single's Night, Mama's coming!"

Elaine stepped aside to let the lady walk by then she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"Excuse me? Are you Karen?"

"Hm?"

Elaine felt a shiver down her spine when Karen smiled at her.

“Well hello there, my dear! Whatever you need, I’ve got it.”

“Actually I’m not here to shop. You met my husband earlier? Guybrush Threepwood?”

“Ohhh! So he gave you the free sample? I knew you couldn’t resist! A woman of your taste would know fine class when you see it.”

Karen chuckled as she immediately looked through her inventory while Elaine was already finding her patience tested.

“Please just listen to me. I understand that your relationship with your ex-husband is… strained but it’s gotten to the point where he’s hiding on my and my husband’s ship trying to get away from you.”

“Hmph, Stan, being an absolute freeloader? You don’t say. Anyway…!”

To Elaine’s surprise, Karen grabbed her face.

“H-hey!”

“Hm, you look like a spring or autumn to me.”

Elaine quickly pushed her off though if that bothered Karen, she didn’t show it and went straight back to her sales pitch.

“Now your face is rather pale, you look like a ghost, dearie! Oh and you need to ditch that bandana, it clashes with your hair."

"Would you just LISTEN to me! I am not here to buy anything! Or to get make-up advice. Or whatever you think I'm here for! I need for you and Stan to reconcile whatever is going on with you two so my husband and I can be alone!"

With that, Karen just laughed.

"Oh you poor innocent sucker. There is no reconciling with that selfish mess of a man. But that's marriage for you, the minute the wifey has a problem, she's suddenly a nagging witch, am I right?"

Elaine's patience was growing thinner and thinner as she crossed her arms and glared at Karen.

"Fine. You two just can't get along, just fine. But at the very least just let Stan be. My husband and I have been looking forward to a nice romantic vacation and we can't exactly do that with Stan around.

Karen smirked and Elaine once again felt an icy chill.

"Oh really? And what do you think your "dear" husband and Stan are doing while they sent you to do their dirty work?"

"I volunteered…"

Karen continued, ignoring Elaine's correction, "They're probably just lazing about on the deck, pigging out on junk and guzzling grog. I was one of the lucky ones. I realized what a scam the whole marriage thing is and got out of there. I've still got my divorce lawyer's card, you know, when you realize that you don't need to settle with that blonde idiot."

Karen pulled out a card and placed it into Elaine's pocket. Without hesitation, Elaine grabbed Karen's wrist with an iron grip.

"HEY!!!"

“Now listen here, you can insult me all you want but my husband is a good man. He may have his moments but that goes for anyone. Do you know what we've faced off against together? Some of the fiercest pirates on the Seven Seas including the undead monster LeChuck. A real estate developer with delusions of grandeur who had the power to make mice out of men. A mad scientist obsessed with eternal life! Guybrush even conquered DEATH! And through all that, Guybrush has always been respectful, caring, and loving!”

Elaine let go of Karen's wrist but kept her steely glare on her.

"My husband may not be perfect but I cannot see myself with anyone else. Now I believe our business is done here."

Karen rubbed her wrist as she gave Elaine her own glare.

"Hmph, I suppose it is. But I am a forgiving sort. I'd be happy to help you once you figure things out."

Refusing to dignify Karen's response, Elaine simply turned around and walked away.

As Elaine stepped out of the marketplace, a shrill scream filled the air.

She looked toward the noise and saw the female pirate from earlier desperately trying to shake off two monkeys climbing all over her.

Elaine quickly came to the woman's rescue, shooing the monkeys away from her, giving the other pirate enough time… to dunk her head in the nearby fountain.

Whatever that did, it seemed to cause the monkeys to lose interest and run off.

"Oh thank Blackbeard's frilly underthings."

"Are… you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I will be."

"What in the world even happened?"

"Oh I'll tell ye what happened! I went to the bar to get ready for Single's Night and put on somea that goop that fast-talking she-devil sold me. Next thing I knew, the bar's monkey mascots were all over me."

"...And you're certain that it was the make-up that caused this?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE A MONKEY'D BE ATTRACTED TO TO YA!? They left me alone just fine then I put on that damn perfume and other stuff and they went crazy! "You'll be catching everyone's eyes in no time" apparently that includes mangy beasts!"

The other pirate stood up and emptied her bag of Karen's products. She then walked away, grumbling about her wasted money and time.

Maybe it was Guybrush's influence but Elaine couldn't help but pick up a couple of the fallen cosmetics.

Eventually Elaine made her way back to the Screaming Narwhal. Guybrush and Stan were on the deck though unlike Karen's prediction, Guybrush was practicing his banjo playing while Stan just read a book.

Guybrush immediately noticed Elaine walking onto the deck and smiled. At least Elaine had that.

"Plunderbunny! So um… how did it go?"

"...I apologize, you were both right. She's the absolute worst, how do we get rid of her?"

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 6

On AO3

Chapter Six

Jamie toiled in the vines with the men and they had cleared over half of the vines on the valley floor by mid-afternoon. They were tired, looking skyward at building black clouds. What would rain do to the picked fruit in the holding containers? No one knew. How to find the market value for the grapes, what happens to the vines now, how to extract the juice and ferment it for wine? No one knew those answers either. Jamie had turned three buyers away throughout the day, each time he lied and doubled the bid the last man gave and each time the buyer met the price. It was the only way he knew to ferret out the true value of a ton of wine grapes. He was getting frantic at the growing possibility he would have the fruit ripening in containers while he tried to figure out how the grape game was played.

Misses Crook rang the bell for refreshment and Jamie ran to the house in search of Claire. He opened the door to their rooms and saw her sitting in the window seat watching the men. She turned a dazzling smile on her husband and jumped to kiss him.

Claire looked at Jamie’s pensive face and wondered what could be so wrong on such a day.

“How can anyone so loved, look so lost?” She spoke almost in a whisper.

Jamie said not a word but put his hand over her mouth to stop any other words from coming out.

“Sassenach, who loves me this much?”

“I do.”

It was a simple statement in a hushed voice but Jamie heard it like it boomed across the land and could be heard by all living things.

“Sorry lass, I dinna ken.”

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him. “I do Jamie, I love you that much.”

Jamie closed his eyes so he could burn the memory into his brain. She said she loves me.

He held her hands and looked into her eyes wishing he did not have to share his truth. That he was lost after the fruit was picked and didn’t know what to do next.

“Mo chridhe, I was filled with confidence this morning, but …”

“Jamie, darling, I have to show you Frank’s journals. I read one yesterday and with the wedding, I clean forgot to tell you.”

Claire ran to the office and handed Jamie the education he desperately needed. He leafed through all three journals quickly and then jumped up and kissed her soundly.

“Thank you, my wee savior.”

His smile was bright when he vacated the room to find a quiet place to read. Frank’s voluminous notes were meticulous and included the stock and grafting, the viti vinifera grapes vines that were producing exceptional wines in Europe. Large robust yields, exceptional tolerance for this region, and on and on. The journals were packed with useful information on the whole process except how to sell the fruit for market value. Before he started on the third journal he was pulled to the door with heavy knocking.

“Jamie boy, someone has come to buy the grapes and tried to walk into the vineyard after seeing the fruit. He is pushy and I think he may be trouble.”

“On my way, Angus, thank ye for keepin an eye out.”

The man was being watched by five Highlanders who gave no apology for standing between him and the vines. The man paced and chewed a cluster of grapes he helped himself to. Jamie approached with a dislike for this man already.

“Can I help ye, sir, are ye buyin grapes today?”

Jamie looked around but saw no wagon or horses. He narrowed his eyes at the clean-cut man, not a farmer, freshly shaved with clean boots. Now he really didn’t like him.

“Looks like you have a nice yield of whites this year. Better than last year?”

Jamie did not answer but felt his heart rate climb at the question.

“I’m sorry, forgive my nosy questions but I can hardly hold back. I think I’m looking at a miracle in your vineyard, unless I’m wrong, and I haven’t been yet. If you will indulge me with my questions and inspection of your plants I will buy all your white grapes for at least eighty dollars per ton. Will you show me your vines sir?”

Jamie scrambled to see the danger of showing the man the vineyard.

“I represent two brothers, Beringer brothers, looking for high-quality grapes for this year’s crush. Their own vineyard has failed this year due to vine blight. It devastated sixty percent of their vines, all dead, and in their fourth year of growth. It could cripple their winery so they have hired me to help them. So far, I have visited several other vineyards and found telltale signs of the same disease in different stages. The quality of the fruit declines steadily until the vine is dead. From what I see from here, your vineyard has not been effected. And you are…?”

“James Fraser, sir.”

Jamie’s alarm bells were going off in his head telling him to get this interloper off the property. When the man shook his hand he held it and looked directly into Jamie’s eyes.

“I have learned a lot about people in my line of work. Sizing a man up for the lowest price I can offer, that sort of thing. I get the feeling you're an immigrant settler and this is your first harvest. It’s okay son, we all had a first year. Maybe I can teach you how to negotiate a fair deal, and where to find market prices when the grapes are close. If I am right, that is just the beginning.”

“I see no harm in ye lookin at the vines, sir, but I canna see how this will make much difference.”

“Lead on and I will tell you all about it. Can I see all varietals planted and do you have a hydrometer we can use?”

Jamie patted his deep pockets and produced the hydrometer used early that morning. There had been no time to put it away. He handed it to the man.

“Your name sir?”

“I am Ben Yountz and as I said I am here representing the Beringer brothers but you and I will do business far beyond this crush I hope. I have always stood by the belief that in business there is enough for every level, from dirt to table, so I’m not going to swindle you. There is far too much money to be made and I am not the kind to it under any circumstances.” He laughed and indicated to Jamie he was ready for a walk into the vines.

Yountz scrutinized the vines from the dirt to the upper leaves saying little as they walked. Sometimes he would dig his hands into the dirt and look at it closely. Leaf undersides were inspected, stems from the trunk were plucked and inspected. He took several Brix ratings from the remaining whites and stopped.

“I suggest you wait with the remaining harvest. One more day will increase the alcohol per volume and produce a better wine. Just a suggestion. Let go see the hills and terraces.

Jamie had dozens of questions but stayed silent during the inspection. When they inspected the zinfandel and deeper reds they were both sweating from the hot afternoon and Yountz said he had seen enough. He could not stop smiling and shaking his head.

“Is there a place we can get out of the sun and talk a bit. You are sitting on a fortune here Mister Fraser and I am going to teach you how to get every penny out of your hard work.”

When they were settled on the porch with a cold glass of Lemon Aide they sipped in silence until Claire came bursting out the front door and jumped in Jamie’s lap giggling. Jamie grabbed her and stood up formally introducing Ben Yountz, a buyer for the Beringer brothers. Claire blushed crimson and apologized for intruding. She tried to flee into the house but Jamie stopped her.

“I think ye should hear this Sassenach. I think it’s important.” He kept his arm around her waist hoping she would brush off her embarrassment and listen. She did just that but wouldn’t look at the stranger for quite some time.

Yountz smiled at the two of them beaming with love and took a quick inventory of this remarkable vineyard. A fine house, high born wife straight from British society by the sound of her speech, carriage, and grace. The husband, a Scottish immigrant, first-year with little experience in viticulture, at the mercy of crooked buyers that would pester him in the coming weeks. They will try to increase their margin at his expense. How did they find their way to this piece of land, those superior vines, and magnificent structures that scream money? The ways he could swindle them were many. He had never taken advantage of another person and he would not be starting the practice today. He smiled at them both and set about rocking their world like a hurricane.

“I am very happy for your trust to show me the vineyard, Mister Fraser. Tell me about the offers you have had for the whites so far.”

“Twenty, and forty per ton. I expect the yield to total maybe three tons per acre but I have no equipment for weighing the fruit. We have one hundred acres whites.”

“I would guess your yield to be closer to six-ton per acre and the price is between 80 and ninety-five dollars, it fluctuates a bit daily. The Beringer brothers produced whites, zinfandel, and deep reds. They are very gifted vintners that caught the attention of the world market last year. They are highly motivated to bottle a superior product again this year, so they will take their losses, replant their vineyard and buy the best grapes from other growers. You are going to be rich, Mister Fraser. I will buy the fruit pulled today for eighty dollars per ton, and ninety-five dollars per ton for what is picked tomorrow.”

“Excuse me, sir,” came out in a pant as Jamie sprinted toward the vines. He rang the bell hard and motioned for all the men to come in. He noticed the Chinese men did not stop so he sprinted for them staying their hands from taking any more clusters. When the picking finally stopped Jamie took a breath and told them all they were done for today. Then he ran back to the porch. He was heaving for air when he sat down again with Yountz and Claire.

Yountz was figuring on a folded sheet of paper and smiled at the final numbers. “I am betting on six tons per acre, one hundred acres, today you pulled approximately sixty acres of the white, estimating now, eighty dollars per ton, you're looking at twenty-eight thousand. Forty acres tomorrow at the higher price will be around twenty-two, twenty-three thousand dollars. Total for the whites will be approximately fifty to fifty-two thousand.”

“Dollars?!” Claire jumped to her feet and stared at the man like he had lost his mind. “Fifty-two thousand dollars just for the white grapes?”

Yountz chuckled and said, “yes ma’am. We can wire the money first thing in the morning but the fruit must be weighed and tasted by the brothers. Not to worry. Yours are the best grapes available this year.”

“May I ask about the Zinfandel, sir?”

“The Zinfandel is the most popular bottled wine across America and quickly gaining in popularity in Europe. It is also the crown jewel of the Beringer winery and they will buy your entire yield if you are willing to sell it all.” Yountz looked at the young couple, If you pull the fruit at the Brix I tell you, the price is one hundred to hundred-thirty per ton. Selling price for your seventy-five acres will be forty-nine to fifty-eight thousand. The Beringers will pay cash in wired transactions to your bank and you have made one hundred to hundred-ten thousand dollars selling half of your acreage.”

Jamie was frozen in his chair. His mind raced with the figures Yountz had thrown out, he tried to find the swindle, he wanted to know why these grapes were so special, and a dozen other questions. Most of all, he could not wrap his head around their good fortune and wanted to know the rest.

“May I speak freely, sir?” Jamie struggled to compose himself and organize his thoughts. It was not possible when he was thunderstruck at the earnings.”

Claire heard the words and knew the meaning of each but she struggled to plug them into her disastrous reality of the past year on this farm. She needed space and a level head to make sense of it all.

“I am so very happy to have met you Mister Yountz. I must tend to my duties feeding the men but I will hurry back if you are still here. It has been a most eye-opening meeting.” She smiled at Yountz and dazzled him with her beauty and refinement. She shook his hand and closed the door slowly on the two men and then ran full speed to Misses Crook accidentally slipping on the waxed kitchen floor and sliding across the room with skirts going in all directions.

“Misses Fraser!” Misses Crook helped her to her feet and looked closely at her shocked face. “What’s happened then, are ye alright Mistress? She ran for a towel to wet and placed it on Claire’s wrist and dabbed her cheeks. “What has happened?”

Claire looked up at the older woman with light shining out of her eyes and a broad smile. “For the misery I have endured since marrying Frank it was a small price for finding the love of my life who just sold our grapes for over one hundred thousand dollars cash.”

Misses Crook stood up with a gasp, “honey, ye heard wrong, that would be the harvest for a number of years to come, aye?”

Claire stood and started working on supper for the men, “no. That is the cash value for this year and only one-hundred seventy-five acres. We still have the same acreage left to sell later in the month.”

Misses Crook had a look of astonishment and deep inside she felt pride in the man she had raised from a lad. Conflicting emotions no doubt. He was many things, many hurtful and abusive things, but he made good on his venture and she was overwhelmed by his accomplishment.

“Misses Fraser!” Crook took Claire’s hands, “dinna write your good fortune to yer friends or uncle Lamb in London. There is still the threat of losing the vineyard to Frank’s family if they choose to force ye off and say ye have no right to the property. Say nothin lass and give sorrowful answers to their questions about how yer doin. Ye ken?”

Claire looked into the eyes of her protector. No matter the transgressions of the last week, Misses Crook was on her side and giving her good advice.

“You are right, that is not information to be shared at this point. Thank you Misses Crook.”

The women busied themselves with the evening meal for the men and heaped much joy and compliment on those who came to get the food. Claire took the tray of meats and bread from Misses Crook and left through the back door to deliver the food without Jamie seeing her. She knew he would stop her, fearing for her injury or overexertion. Tonight she had to serve the amazing men who answered her ad for Scots to work the harvest. She felt hot tears behind her eyes when she set the tray down on the food table and looked at each face; dirty, hot, tired, and triumphant. The men were surprised to see this refined lady, so British, so much a target for their hatred, humbly serving them.

“I wanted to say thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you, men, for coming and making this glorious harvest a reality. I am so appreciative of each one of you. We have a special treat, each night of the harvest, you will be stuffed with the best supper and a wonderful dessert that Misses Crook has made. We are all strangers to this land but together we have made a miracle happen and I am so fortunate to have made your acquaintance.”

Claire shook the hands of every man she could reach and looked them in the eye when their hands touched. Those she couldn’t reach raised their hands to her and she shook each one and wiped her tears.

The men were absolutely quiet as Claire made her impassioned speech and each of them was touched deep inside by her sincerity. The simple act of serving them and claiming a space among them changed many hearts that were against her. All the men were subdued and smiling when she curtsied deeply and bowed her head, honoring them all. She left forty-eight Highlanders speechless, honored, and proud.

Yountz was very impressed with Claire as she excused herself to attend to supper for the men. Jamie was accustomed to her ways but he would never see her as anything but a shining star among the mortals who inhabit the earth. He wanted to hold her in the magic of their rooms, safely locked away from the world. With the negotiations completed, he expected mere minutes before he could see that a reality. Then Yountz changed James Fraser forever with a short dissertation on his true reality.

“With my business for the Beringer brothers concluded, let us discuss the coming disaster, your miracle vines, and what that equation means to us both. Mister Fraser, by some miracle you have won the heart of a lady who by marriage has made you master of this vineyard. I suspect you have met after Misses Fraser’s first husband passed away and you may not understand the unique circumstances of this vineyard. Do you know anything about the vines? Where they came from, how they were purchased, what they are grafted to?”

At first, Jamie was horrified this man could read his ignorance so quickly and he looked away as his face flushed bright red.

“Tis true, I came to work for the lady and help with the coalition’s attempt to grab her land. I fell in love with her, and eventually, she with me. We were married last night and I am still in the clouds with happiness but concerned about the vines. You are correct, I ken nothing of this business but what I learned in three months working for another vineyard.”

“You honor me with your honesty Mister Fraser and I want to explain a phenomenon that is happening in this region right now and will cripple the wine industry for a decade to come. The history of this region is agriculture and farming. For decades, the wine produced here was for religious affairs and the monasteries became excellent viticulturists but the vines produced small yields, low alcohol content, and tasted bland. The grapes were known as mission grapes around these parts. European settlers came with a vine called vinifera that produced the fine wines of France and Italy. Interest grew because the vines were hardy, temperature tolerant, producing huge yields that created robust high alcohol wine. The acreage dedicated to growing this grape has gone from about one hundred to over three-thousand acres in the last three years and more people are coming. It reminds me of the gold rush.”

Jamie listened closely. Not wanting to interrupt or stem the flow of information, he said not a word.

“There is a disease in this soil that attacks the vinifera grapevines and it is spreading quickly. I have visited almost every vineyard in St. Helena, Sonoma, and Napa Valley and it is everywhere. Like a blight, it attacks and eventually kills the vineyard, as it did with Beringer. Only your vines show no symptoms of the blight meaning you will have no competition from other growers and the wineries will pay three, four, or five times for your grapes. Replanting a vineyard requires at least three years before it is productive and the decline from the blight is around five years before the vineyard dies. The vines become sicker, yields drop, and quality is low. Where did these vines come from Mister Fraser?”

“Frank Randall purchased them from the natives who used to live in the region. According to his journals, the natives were mistreated by a corrupt sheriff and landowners who made them like slaves. They used a special grafting plant for their vineyards and then vacated the region due to poor treatment. He purchased the vines in their third year of growth and just moved them to his land. His journals are full of notes about the native rootstock and there was a hand-drawn picture of two stems gouged halfway through, wrapped together with string, and planted. Is that what is making my vines resistant to the blight?”

“Possibly. The university is building a field station for research in Napa. They, along with the United States government have a mission to make California’s northern regions the best in the world for wine production. We can leave the science to them so you can concentrate on keeping your vines in the best shape.”

Jamie looked at Yountz with a lost expression.

Yountz leaned forward and looked Jamie in the eye. “I know more about this business than any grower or vintner in California. I’ll tell you all about my dedication to winemaking when we open a bottle of your first vintage. For now, there is much to learn.”

Yountz looked down at the floor for a minute. “I am going to teach you if you want to learn, whether we make a deal or not Jamie. I want you to know that before we go on.” Jamie nodded. “You produce the highest quality grapes that will account for as little as thirty percent of the demand and there is little offered as a second choice. You will sell to the top vintners only, and they will pay to keep their place in the world market. I will broker your crop next year somewhere around three hundred to five hundred dollars per ton for whites, four to six hundred per ton for zinfandel. Your white harvest alone will pay you one hundred eighty to three hundred thousand. This year, you make fifty-eight thousand, next year, three hundred thousand, for the whites alone. The Zinfandel multiplier will be ridiculous. Ha, a million dollars per year for your crop over the next six to ten years will make you and Claire extremely wealthy.

“How do you get paid, sir?”

“I take a couple of points from you and maybe one or two from the winery as payment for services. It will take me a few hours to broker one hundred acres of your grapes to starving vintners. You? You will be tested by this land and crop for eight months out of the year. You look strong and I promise there will be times you question your ability to keep going.”

“The vines are planted. They just grow now,” Jamie looked confused.

“When the rain comes you will walk the vineyard in the downpour looking for pooling water, checking the integrity of the terraces, digging the dirt until your hands bleed trying to divert the excessive water. Eighteen hours a day thinning the clusters when they emerge to force more flavor into each berry at harvest, digging vines up and relocating them to quarantine. In drought, you will dig troughs that hold whatever water comes, when it comes. These are dug each week because excessively dry soil collapses. When the berries emerge you will tend them like a new father. If the temperature drops to freezing at night you could lose the entire vineyard so you build fires and fan the warm air toward the fruit. All night until the sun warms them up. After each harvest, you cut seventy percent of the vine away in a very specific manner to prepare the vine for the next growing season. The tonnage of waste you will burn or otherwise dispose of is massive, back-breaking, and required for the best yield next year. Now, whether you do all the work or keep some of your crew to help, you still have to pay them. Here’s my point. You are being paid for eight months of hard labor and I am being paid for three hours. Do you see?”

Jamie wondered if his face revealed the utter chaos in his head from information overload.

“I would not waste my time teaching anyone who didn’t have the strength, youth, and motivation that you have. What’s the motivation? I leave that to the philosophers because I oversimplify such things. To me, it’s either money or it’s the love of creating the best table wine in the world which is an art form in itself. I don’t care which it is, as long as you are all in, with me.”

Jamie was pushed off his narrow mental cliff and free-falling at the enormous gain and possibilities this man offered. He jumped to his feet and stuck out his trembling hand to seal the deal.

I will help you learn every part of this business Mister Fraser. We have both spoken with trust today and I have offered you the best price for your grapes this year. I am happy with this deal.

Ben Yountz was fifty-two years old and imagined if he had a son he would be about Jamie’s age. He was impressed to the bone with Jamie and his lovely wife. When they shook hands, neither man knew they would each fill a void in the other forging a bond to last until each took his last breath.

Yountz left to bring several clusters to the Beringer brothers for approval. He cradled the clusters on the way to find his horse feeling thirty years younger with excitement and the serendipity of the day. All the lonely moments in the past, when he questioned his existence and wondered why he was here on earth, were clarified as he morphed into the teacher he would become.

Jamie looked vacant as he filled his mouth with food. His gaze was unfocused and masked giving no clue to what was going on inside. Claire tried to tease him out of his head but that only worked for a minute or two.

It was hot and miserable in the house as they ate their supper in silence. Claire used her forearm to wipe the sweat from her face.

“God it’s hot tonight. I have a mind to sleep outside in the grass, or in the lake.”

Jamie’s head shot up. “I will accompany you to the lake Sassenach if you would like to bathe and cool off. I would also find it a rare treat.” It was decided and Misses Crook sent them on their way

Jamie watched Claire strip down to her shift as he threw caution to the wind and walked into the cool water butt naked, losing himself to the cold soft water. He dropped under the surface and came up to an empty beach.

“Sassenach!”

He heard the bubbles behind him and turned to pull her close, feeling her naked body down the length of his made him shiver with need. He kissed her deeply and she ran her hands over his body underwater.

“Jamie, what has you so quiet tonight? Are you not happy with the harvest?”

“Aye, I am happy with the harvest. I am livin in a dream mo ghaol, a bit overwhelmed I think.”

“Suppose you take me for a ride on your back and tell me all about it”

Jamie spun in her arms and suggested she hold on as his powerful arms and legs cut through the water. He told her about the rest of the meeting after she left to feed the men. As he talked Claire wrapped her legs around his waist thrilled at the contact between Jamie’s skin and her core.

“So, Yountz is sure we will make a million each year until the other growers learn how to graft the native rootstock.”

Jamie heard the splash as Claire fell off his back. “Claire!” She scrambled back up on his back wiping the water off her startled face. He decided to work his way back to the edge of the lake where he pulled her under him in the shallows and kissed her until she clung to him. He entered her slowly, surprised by her readiness to make love out in the open under a full moon.

Claire arched her back and pushed him into her body meeting his demanding lips and tongue with her own. Jamie kept his movements slow because he was fascinated watching Claire’s face, feeling her body respond to him, hearing her panting and moans.

“Jamie you must go faster.”

He smiled down at her and pulled them nearly out of the water before rubbing against her core until she arched her back and moaned his name. He could feel her body change on the inside as her muscles gripped him and pulsed. “Jesus Sassenach.” He pushed hard into her, quite out of control with the erotic lovemaking on the beach.

Claire hung onto his shoulders for dear life and noticed the changes in his power and his rigid muscles before he growled into the night and let it go. She watched his face in utter euphoria as he gripped her to him. Wow, she thought, I made that happen, my body brought this giant man to his knees. She smiled at the full moon, completely enchanted with love, with Jamie, with her desire for him. Their souls reached for each other and locked into an embrace that bound them to each other for eternity.

“Come Sassenach, let’s sit on the shore until we dry and you can tell me how ye parents taught ye to swim.”

“I did not have parents after age five. They were killed in a carriage accident. I was raised by a governess and uncle Lamb, my only relative.”

Jamie watched her face change into sorrow, loneliness, isolation, and want that was never appeased. His heart hurt for her, throbbing with pain over her loss. He pulled her to him and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, searching her eyes.

“I’m sorry love. So young to lose your mam and da. I want to hear about every minute of yer life but we’ll do it slowly, aye? Yer too pretty to be sad. He kissed her softly and felt a wet tear roll down her cheek. He kissed it away and pulled her up helping her dress before finding their way back.

The moon drifted across the night sky and aligned with the window of two naked lovers locked in their embrace. They were bathed in yellow light as their future whispered on the breeze, “come and get me…if you dare.”

Late Night With You

So it's like Dwight is being locked in Alexandria and he's tied up in that room and Rick and the others are treating him like shit, but the reader likes him and she feels sorry for him, so she takes advantage of the fact that he is "tied" in that room and "alone" 😏 and she gives him some sexy time afterwards she'll admit her feelings for him?

I got a request to do a one shot for Daryl where he and the reader reunited when the group all meet up at Hilltop after Daryl’s escape from the sanctuary. I remembered that I had done a one shot of that some time ago so if you’d like to read that, click here! So, instead we’ll be moving on to a Dwight request! 😊 doing Dwight smut is definitely outside my comfort zone cause I’m not used to writing smut for a character I myself am not attracted to. I’m down for a challenge! Haha! So hopefully, you guys like it! <3 thanks for the love as always! And I didn’t mention this last time, but I also want to thank you for your kind words when my dog died. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. As silly as it may sound, it was somewhat of a traumatic experience and I am still heartbroken over her death. SO THANK YOU <3333

~~~~~~~~~

Too many lives had been snatched away or destroyed with this war. Negan wouldn’t back down and Rick certainly wasn’t going to surrender. Both of them would keep going until it was just the two of them standing. Negan had terrorized everyone for far too long and had to be stopped. The world could thrive once he was gone.

Rick and some of the others had left to assist Maggie’s group at Hilltop. It wasn’t clear how long they would be gone but you and Rosita were keeping an eye on Alexandria while they were gone. You were going through all of the ammo and guns the group had recently acquired from the mysterious new group from the junkyard. You and Aaron were writing down everything you had as your old inventory had been swiped by Negan a few weeks ago during his first visit.

“Do you think we’ll be able to win this, Aaron?” you asked. Aaron had been quiet while you worked. He hadn’t been the same since losing Eric. The wounds were still fresh.

“We have to,” Aaron replied, “We don’t have any other choice. If we lose, we die.”

“That’s true,” you mumbled, “I really thought I’d seen it all, you know? Never been through something so crazy.”

“I don’t think crazy really covers it,” Aaron said, cracking a bit of a smile. You two shared a quick laugh before continuing with your work. After that, you worked in silence until Carl came into the armory, his blue eyes widened in shock. It might not have been urgent as he wasn’t moving quickly but he was still fidgeting anxiously.

“Carl?” you said, “What’s wrong?”

“Rosita needs you,” Carl replied, “Someone’s here. From the sanctuary.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, “Who?!”

“Just come on,” Carl said, “Rosita put him in the jail cell.”

“Sure,” you said, “Cover me here?”

Carl nodded and took your seat as you hurried to join Rosita at the jail cell. Who in the world would show up to Alexandria from Negan’s side? Especially all alone. It had to have been a trap. They would keep him here and the other saviors would infiltrate somehow. That had to be the angle.

Bursting into the room, you nearly stumbled as you entered, “Rosita?! Rosita! Carl told me to come here. What’s going on? Who came here?”

Rosita didn’t seem as shaken as Carl. She was bouncing from one foot to the other but was otherwise calm, “Do you remember Dwight, Y/N?”

“The one who killed Denise, wasn’t he?” you said, “Shot Daryl too?”

Rosita nodded, “He showed up here. See for yourself.”

You peeked into the cell and you were surprised to see the blonde man sitting up against the wall, his burned face easily recognizable even in the dark. The way Daryl had described him, you were expecting a hard, evil man to be sitting there with a scowl on his face and nasty remarks coming out of his mouth. But instead, all you saw was a broken, sad man.

“Why are you here?” you inquired, “Why would you come here?”

“I wanna help,” Dwight replied, “Negan needs to be taken down.”

“I don’t understand,” you said, “You killed Denise. You almost killed Daryl. You basically tortured Daryl on top of that. Why the sudden shift in attitude?”

Dwight hung his head, “I…I did it to save my own ass. Thought this was who I had to be. But Negan doesn’t deserve to live.”

“You won’t be welcomed with open arms,” you said, “How do we know you’re being genuine? This could easily be a trap.”

“I know it looks bad,” Dwight said, “You…you’re just gonna have to trust me…take my word for it.”

“That isn’t exactly a selling point, Dwight,” Rosita piped in. She grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the cell. She lowered her voice, “What do you think?”

“This may sound insane but…I believe him,” you murmured, “I think he genuinely is remorseful. I know what he did was horrific. Maybe even unforgivable. But I believe he regrets it all. I believe he’s looking for redemption. What about you?”

Rosita glanced at Dwight in the cell and then hung her head, “I agree. He wants to help. I believe him. But ultimately, Rick will be the one to make the call I think. Dwight has managed to piss off everyone. Daryl and Tara especially will be out for blood.”

“Maybe they’ll hold off for us,” you said, “I think they would trust our judgement, right?”

Rosita shrugged, “This is a savior we’re talking about, Y/N. It could go either way.”

Rick and the others arrived back in Alexandria the very next evening. The saviors had apparently invaded Hilltop, coming at them with weapons they later discovered had been covered with walker blood. They’d suffered many losses last night so the group was on edge. You and Rosita were definitely not looking forward to adding to that stress.

“How’s Hilltop doing?” Aaron inquired, “With all their losses? Maybe we could send more people to them.”

“They’ll manage for the time being,” Rick said, “Don’t worry, we’ll send help to them soon. We would never abandon Maggie like that. Did anything happen here while we were gone?”

“Actually…” you said, “Yeah. You should come with us. You might not like this, Rick.”

You and Rosita led the group to the jail cell. Rosita unlocked the cell and you two stepped inside with the others close behind but standing just outside. Dwight stood then, stepping into the light slipping in through the small window. Everyone was stunned into silence. You and Rosita both watched in anticipation, waiting for someone to react. Daryl as usual was the first one to move, an almost animalistic growl coming from him as he shoved past Rick and Michonne to get his hands on Dwight.

“Daryl, stop, stop, stop!” Rick shouted. He managed to stop Daryl while you instantly took a step closer towards Dwight.

“He wants to help!” you added, “He wants to take Negan down!”

“How the fuck do we know that?” Tara snarled, her dark eyes narrowing at Dwight, “He could be leaving us vulnerable to attack.”

“I’m not,” Dwight said, “I want Negan dead as much as you do.”

“You wanna help?” Rick said, turning to Dwight. He pulled out his pistol and tilted his head slightly, “Get on your knees.”

Dwight complied, lowering to his knees and keeping his eyes down on the floor. The sight saddened you as Dwight looked broken enough already. Now he looked so small and fragile. What had Negan put him through?

“See?” you said, “He’s not fighting.”

“We have anything to tie his wrists?” Rick said.

“We’re tying him up now?” you spoke up in disbelief.

Daryl scoffed at you, “Why the sympathy for this asshole, Y/N? Like he hasn’t done worst to others. He’s lucky he isn’t being sent back to Negan in fucking pieces.”

Michonne tied Dwight’s wrists while Rick stood over the two of them, his gun pressed against Dwight’s head, “I know he’s done bad things, Daryl. But…he-”

“Don’t even try to defend him, Y/N,” Tara interjected, “He killed Denise. We won’t trust him so easily. You’re naïve to be so trusting. That kind of attitude is gonna kill you one day.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Rosita grabbed your shoulder to stop you, “It’s fine, okay? We can’t be fighting like this. We’ll figure this out together.”

Dwight stayed in that cell with his wrists tied all night long. No one had given him any food or water. You didn’t think he was starving by any means but you still brought a little food and a cup of water to the cell the next morning. He was just waking up as you arrived. He blinked a few times before rubbing his eyes, “You’re bringing me food? Isn’t this against the rules? Daryl was ready to attack because you tried to defend me.”

“I’m still not sure if trusting you is a good decision,” you admitted, “But…I don’t think you should be deprived of basic human needs. Food and water. And I definitely didn’t agree with tying you up. When did you leave the sanctuary?”

“Last night,” Dwight replied, “Came straight here from the sanctuary.”

“How long before Negan notices you’re gone?”

“Who knows,” Dwight said with a shrug, “He might be too distracted by his attack on Hilltop to notice. Or maybe he’s got a search party out looking for me right now. No way to know for sure. So…if you still don’t think you can trust me, why are you being so nice to me? Doesn’t make sense. Aren’t you afraid I’ll try something?”

“I don’t know,” you said, “Maybe I’m trying to figure out if I can trust you. And…I’d say you’re doing well so far. What exactly are you going to do to help us?”

“I’m Negan’s right hand man,” Dwight explained, “I’m there for all the discussions and I’m there when Negan’s making his plans. I knew he was going to use blood from the biters as weapons but I didn’t know he’d put that plan into action so soon. I also didn’t have my uh…what’s the word…epiphany until it was too late. But I wanna end this. They said your name was Y/N, right?”

You nodded, “That’s my name. I guess it’s nice to meet you? Not entirely I guess. But it’s nice to match a name with a face. If only this was under better circumstances. I think you would’ve made a nice addition to the group.”

“I had my chance,” Dwight said, “Made my choices. Now I’ve gotta live with ‘em.”

“We all do,” you said, “But I think for you…there might be a chance at redemption.”

Dwight smiled, “You think so?”

“I really do,” you said. You followed with a shrug as you sat down on the floor in front of Dwight as he ate, “You seem to have some humanity left. Can’t say the same for the other saviors. I don’t see any of them coming around here to help us. I suppose unless this really is just a trick. I would hope not though. Because I…”

“You…what?” Dwight said.

“I dunno,” you mumbled nervously, “I’m starting to like you. And I’d hate to get my heart broken so quickly.”

“I promise this is for real,” Dwight replied. He took your hand in both of his. It was awkward as his wrists were still tied and he couldn’t move his hands that easily but he managed, “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Even if it makes me naïve,” you remarked. Footsteps passed by and you quickly jumped to your feet, “I should go before someone comes looking for me. I could come back tonight and bring you some dinner. Everyone will be asleep so I could maybe…stick around a little longer.”

“Sure,” Dwight said, “Nice to have someone to talk to.”

You cleaned up the dishes Dwight had used before anyone could question it. It was still early enough that no one would’ve really seen you walking around anyway. But you couldn’t get Dwight out of your head. You barely even knew him why were you so interested in seeing him again? Was it the excitement of sneaking over there? Or was it the forbidden aspect of it? Or maybe it was just the fact that you saw something in Dwight that no one was bothering to look at.

That night as everyone was winding down and heading to bed, you made some food for Dwight and headed for his cell. Rick had people guarding the door all day and all night long, taking shifts. Only a few were willing to do it so you didn’t have to sort too much out. You told Rosita you would take her morning shift just so no one could interrupt you if you ended up staying too long. You would most likely get caught but the risk was worth it.

“Hey,” you greeted Aaron, who was on guard for the night, “I thought I’d relieve you of your duties. I know you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

“Does Rick know about this?” Aaron asked.

“No, I’m just trying to be nice,” you replied, shrugging, “I feel like I haven’t been doing as much as I should be.”

“Well, alright then,” Aaron said, “If something happens, just let me know, okay?”

“I think I’ll be fine,” you said. Aaron walked back home and you stood there while you were still in his sight. Once he turned the corner, you walked into the cell where Dwight sat in the dark. You could hardly see him except for the small patch of moonlight peering down at him through the tiny window.

“Y/N,” Dwight said, “I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.”

“Of course I was,” you said, “I just wanted to make sure no one saw me. Here, I made some food. I hear Rick’s gonna come around tomorrow to talk to you. Then probably let you go once he knows that you’re being truthful.”

“He doesn’t believe me yet?” Dwight said.

“Rick has to be cautious,” you said. You held the plate up in front of Dwight so his tied hands could grab the food with ease, “When it comes to the lives of our group and Hilltop and the Kingdom, Rick can’t risk it. And I trust you but I don’t blame him for playing it safe.”

“Well, thanks for the warning,” Dwight said, “And thanks for helping me eat.”

You looked over the rope wrapped around his wrists, “Michonne tied this pretty tight. Guess I’m the only idiot that’s trusting.”

“You’re no idiot, Y/N,” Dwight said, “As crazy as it sounds, I haven’t been this…comfortable in a long time.”

“Is that…because of me?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, thank you,” you said. You leaned in and placed a kiss on Dwight’s cheek. It shocked the both of you and you turned away, biting your lip, “Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

Dwight lifted your chin, “Don’t be.”

Before you could say anything else, Dwight pressed his lips to yours. You sucked in your breath, still completely stunned. A small moan came from you as you felt Dwight’s hands move from your face down your neck and chest. His hands couldn’t roam the way you would like but if you untied him, you would never be able to retie him the way Michonne had. But…that might work to your advantage.

You pulled away, looking back at the door, “Wait one second.”

Jumping to your feet, you hurried to lock the door. You looked back at Dwight with a playful smirk, “We have all night. Unless…I was misunderstanding?”

Dwight shook his head, “Nope. I was hoping we would be on the same page. You’re not gonna untie me?”

“Everyone would know that I was here if I untied you,” you explained, “Besides…I think this works out in my favor.”

“What makes you say that?” Dwight asked.

You came towards him, pulling your tank top over your head and tossing it aside in the corner of his cell. Dwight’s eyes widened as you unzipped your jeans and pushed them down your legs. It was a little awkward as you had to stop to get your pants all the way off but once they were, they were discarded with your tank top on the floor.

“Gives me a bit of control,” you said. Your tongue darted across your lips as you peeked out the window, “Who knows when someone will walk by. We might have to make this quick.”

You straddled him, kissing him once more. Your fingers grazed the uneven, slightly rough texture of his face as your tongue slipped past his lips. Dwight groaned faintly, his tongue fighting yours for dominance. You rolled your hips, grinding against him and his breath hitched. His fingers twitched, wanting so badly to touch you. And while it would’ve felt good, this would work out just fine.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” you whispered against his lips. You pulled away, sitting up somewhat to pull down your underwear. Dwight was breathing hard, his eyes following your hands. Your hands were shaking as you worked on Dwight’s zipper on his pants. He lifted his hips to help as best as he could without the use of his hands. You paused, looking into his eyes, “I hate to rush.”

“It’s fine,” Dwight said, “When we make it out of this war alive, we’ll have another chance. To take our time.”

You grinned, pulling his dick from his boxers. You had a firm grip on it, moving your hand up and down painfully slow. His body tensed under your touch, squeaks and grunts slipping from his barely parted lips. Your free hand traveled down between your own legs, running your fingers up and down your folds before settling on your clit. You clenched your jaw as your fingers made slow, deep circular motions. Dwight couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching you practically fall apart in front of him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he huffed.

You lifted your hips so you were hovering over him, your fingers still circling around your clit. Your heart pounded against your chest in anticipation as you lowered, sinking down onto him. Dwight leaned his head back as he settled in the warmth of your walls. Your jaw dropped but you weren’t able to make any noise. You could hardly even move from the intensity. Dwight thrust his hips a little to make you move. You grabbed his tied wrists and lifted them over his head, pressing them against the wall as you smashed your lips on his. Your hips rolled as you moved up and down.

“We have to be quiet,” you panted. Dwight nodded in agreement, though your chest ached as you were forced into silence. Dwight buried his head in your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth. The air around you was heating up until you could hardly breathe. Dwight’s breath was hot on your skin as your hips started moving even faster. He thrusted to meet every stroke of yours and it drove you wild. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep quiet.

“I’m…” you whined, “Close.”

“Me too,” he murmured against your neck. You kept your grasp on Dwight’s wrists with one hand, and the other between your legs, fingers circling around your clit even faster. You took in several deep breaths as the ache grew stronger and stronger. Your chest tightened and you threw your head back as a wave of euphoria washed over you, your body jerking and twitching with the aftershocks. The way your walls contracted and pulsed around him set him off as he came without warning, though it never occurred to either one of you in the moment. You stayed where you were, your breaths in sync.

“I didn’t think it would be that…intense,” you said, licking your lips. You kissed him tenderly, “I’ve never moved so quickly with a guy. Instant connection I guess.”

“I’d say so,” Dwight panted. You slid off of him and helped him dress. Dwight smiled as he watched you put your own clothes back on, “Makes me feel better about tomorrow. More confident.”

“I’m happy to help,” you said with a wink, “I should get going. I have a long few hours of guarding you. I took Rosita’s shift this morning. How do I look?”

“Stunning,” Dwight said, “I almost hate to have to leave tomorrow.”

“With your help, this war will be over soon,” you replied. You approached him one last time, pressing a deep kiss to his lips, holding his face in your hands. You felt his smile against your lips and you couldn’t hold back a smile of your own. You giggled, “And once it is, we can be together. Even if I have to leave this place with you.”

You left his cell and sat outside, still feeling warm and tingly. Perhaps you would get caught and Rick and the others would be mad at you, maybe even call you a traitor. Daryl and Tara would certainly be pissed. But it was worth it. You were confident that not only was Dwight truly on your side, but that this would be the help you needed to win this war. Everything would work out fine. Maybe being this trusting was a good thing sometimes.

~~~~~~~

THANKS FOR READING GUYS. I know my smut isn’t my best work but I’m still learning and improving so be kind haha! I do try so hopefully that it shows. I love you always guys <3 😊

Rubbish Blog Update

After an intensely busy week we made the most of the weekend, which is to say I got as much shit done as possible.

Saturday I had an eye appointment, then we did the weekly shopping and I came home to cook.  Ended up making some freezer meals (broth-steamed quinoa with peppers and onions boxed up with veggie dumplings and veggies, “chicken” patties with veggies and seasoned rice, baked cauliflower mac and cheese, 1 doz hard boiled eggs for lunches, another dozen made up into egg salad.  

I also used some of the leftover broccoli to make some veggie-and-egg white patties to go along with the veg sausage for breakfast.  While we were out today I picked up a bunch of fresh fruit, so now we’ve got a fruit salad we can dip into for lunch as well.

Even though we’ve been inconsistent with the gym, this has been a lifesaver for me, honestly.  I get to cook (which I’ve missed), and on the nights that we go straight to the gym we have a nice dinner ready to be served in a few minutes rather than resorting to frozen processed stuff or me having to grudgingly throw something together when I’m already tired and just wanting to relax.

I set up a “Google Routine” for us that also turns on some nice mood music and lights when we eat dinner, which has been something nice to unravel us from the day.  I made another for the bedroom when I’m doing my nightly routine.  Sade heavy, of course, because I’m nothing if not predictable.

Speaking of which, I picked up another set of remote-controlled LED button lights today, and installed them in the master bath.  So now I can shower to smooth jazz AND have mood lights, stop being jealous.

(It is probably the tackiest thing in the whole entire world to somebody who is not me, but I don’t care, I love it.)

On Saturday night we finally sorted through the pile of convention crap that’s been clogging up the dining room and took a proper inventory of all the art and jewelry I’ve got left.  I took pictures of our sales sheets as well, and tomorrow (haha, maybe, ugh) I’m going to take a critical look at what’s sold well historically and what makes the most sense to reproduce.

The little hand-painted pendants, for instance, which I dearly love?  Just don’t sell that well.  I only have one or two left, so that’s good, but they took forever to sell, and they are really labor intensive to make.  Meanwhile, the acrylic dragonfly earrings were inexpensive to make, fairly quick to produce, and people snatched them up.

It’s been an interesting experience, to be sure.

We have a pile of stuff to take to Salvation Army, but it rained all Saturday so that was no good.  Maybe some time this week.

Oh, and last Wednesday the handyman came by to install the new door!  MY NEW FREE FRONT DOOR!  (I’m very proud of this, and I recognize that it is childish, but I don’t care.  The dude at Home Depot was ringing up gift card after gift card and just marveling out loud how ridiculous it was.  Proud moment for me.)

I started using a new app that lets you take pictures of your store receipts, also allowing you to exchange the points you earn for more gift cards, so we’ll see how I do with that.  Let me know if anyone wants to give it a shot, I’ll send you a referral!

Finally had an orthopedist appointment last Wednesday as well.  X-rays looked normal, so there’s some sort of soft tissue damage or scar tissue or something?  He couldn’t tell without an MRI, and insurance won’t pay for an MRI (softly singing God Bless America under my breath here), so instead he’s sending me to physical therapy for an “abnormal gait.”  Lovely.  That starts this coming Wednesday, we’ll see how that all goes.

We also went to the gym today and worked up a workout routine in the weights section.  I’m off high-impact cardio for the time being, which means no running, and frankly I really think what I need is to regain, and gain, muscle mass.  Cardio has never really done anything for me at all, although running can be very relaxing, and I can already feel age-related muscle loss setting in.  Can’t have that, so off we go for (ideally) 3 nights a week of weights.

It’s frustrating being so short.  Half the machines that I need to use I can’t because I just don’t fit on them -- my head hits the wrong place, the swively bits press against something they shouldn’t -- and in trying to make them work I end up straining something I shouldn’t.  Marc helped me figure out which ones I could fit on, proper weight and seat settings, so I should be good now.  I wrote everything down, and will work it up into a little chart for myself tomorrow.

I may laminate it, I haven’t decided yet.

In cat news, we are going to have to do something about Rosie.  Laugh as we might about her growling at her food bowl, the amount of absolute hysterics she flies into at feeding time, or the lengths she goes to in order to scavenge even the tiniest crumb of food is getting upsetting.

We can’t offer her anything by hand anymore.  If you try to give her a treat she will bite through your fingers without even thinking.  If you offer her baby food on a spoon as a treat she can no longer contain herself to licking -- she will bite and bite and bite the spoon, and can’t seem to stop herself.  I bought her a slow feeder dish and she spent the entire time biting the plastic bits meant to make her go more slowly, just growling and getting more and more upset, until we scraped everything back into her old bowl.  When she does eat, it’s like she hasn’t eaten in weeks, and she’s convinced someone is going to steal it.

She is a completely different cat when there’s food in front of her.

She is still (and probably always will be) a very tiny cat -- probably only 5.5 - 6 lbs -- but she is at a healthy weight for her size.  I suspect whatever malnutrition she suffered as a kitten permanently stunted her growth.

This sort of behavior can have a physical cause (hyperthyroidism, parasites, etc.), but the copious bloodwork they did on her just a few months ago came back clear, she went through several rounds of powerful dewormers when we first found her, and she is otherwise in good physical shape and health.  She’s also, when there’s no food around, still sweet and cuddly and as loving as she always was.  There isn’t a mean bone in her body.

We saw this once before, in a cat that we fostered when we first moved into this house -- Cooper.  We had to give Cooper back, in part because our other cats couldn’t get along with him, and in part because he was an absolute living nightmare to deal with.  He figured out how to scale the barrier into the kitchen, and would dump the trash can and rip through everything he found inside. He would walk the kitchen counters over and over and over again in case he missed something the last time.  Every single day, multiple times a day.  He’d tear open ANY bag, whether or not it contained food, just in case it might.

Cooper was also found as a starving kitten, although he wasn’t one of ours.  Other accounts I’ve read of these behaviors all have that in common as well: kittens (like Rosie) who were found emaciated, plagued with parasites.  Even long after they find a safe home with ample food and regular mealtimes, that insecurity never goes away. What has helped others, supposedly, is making the cat a safe and secure place to eat every meal, and not exposing it to food at any other time or place than at meal time.

She’s already not allowed in the kitchen, we now have Rosie-proof trash bins, and although we’re already feeding all the cats separately I’ve taken down one of the carriers to lock her in at breakfast and dinner (this isn’t as bad as it sounds -- she wolfs her food down in a minute flat, so she won’t be in there long, and I’m hoping that only giving her meals and treats in that spot will help her feel less exposed and defensive. I moved her bowl into the carrier and she went right in to investigate, so we’ll see what happens at breakfast tomorrow.  Even a slight improvement would be good.  On one hand we laugh at this ridiculous, tiny cat growling so unnecessarily and aggressively at dinner time, but after a moment it’s sort of upsetting because clearly she is super stressed out. I guess that about catches me up.  I’m going to take a nice long shower and listen to smooth jazz amid color-changing lights (SHHH IT’S FANCY) and then maybe do something creative for a bit. I love you all and I hope you’re well <3

Wardrobe Malfunction

Words: 5,502

Summary: Crowley decides to be a mischief boy and try and change up a certain angels fashion choices. Secretly of course.

This is part of the Good Omens Holiday Swap! For @soong-type-toaster​ sorry this took so long to post! Real life straight up knocked me tf out in the middle of all my working. I hope you enjoy it!!

Crowley loved the idea of shopping, only partially for the reason that most horrible experiences involved in it were his own design. Cramped stores in malls where everyone was seconds away from snapping the next time someone even looked at them? Fragile, expensive items all within range of grubby children’s fingers? The joy fading from a cashiers eyes as someone demanded a manager? It all blended together into such a building frustration that it almost brought a tear of joy to his eye just thinking about it.

The other thing he’d learned to enjoy was fashion. Centuries of clothing changing like an odd, shifting, bedazzled chameleon. From extravagant and flashy, horribly cheap and tacky, he had almost a respect for the whole thing. He himself loved following along with the trends, only regretting a handful of them. His bowl cut one of the bigger ones of the past few decades…

This trip to the shops wasn’t about him, for once. No, it was about someone a bit different. Someone who could be a stick in the mud when it came to certain things, updating his fashion being one of them. Out of the things Crowley was good at, music and television seemed more difficult a lesson he could teach to someone who refused to admit he needed to be taught. So, a hand in the fashion department was what he was going to offer.

-

Crowley began his plan that next afternoon.

"Oi, angel!" Crowley called out as he walked inside the building. Surprisingly the shop actually had a handful of customers despite the faint scent of mold that Crowley himself had added for the angel a few months before. The fact that they were still there was also worrying. Aziraphale was losing his touch. Or he’d been absorbed in his book and hadn’t noticed yet.

A few heads turned toward him, but he gave them no notice as he walked by, his steps unhurried as he made his way through the shop. It took him only seconds for his eyes to lock upon his target; Aziraphale giving him a tired look from behind his register. The angels reading glasses were low on his nose, the book on his desk almost on the last page. He’d been bored for a few hours, Crowley guessed. Excellent.

"If I tell you I've closed for the day," the angel muttered, "would that get rid of that gleam in your eyes?" There was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, quickly giving away that he was only teasing the demon.

"Nah," Crowley answered. "I’d tell all of these other customers to bugger off, of course."

That seemed to get Aziraphales attention. His eyes widened, and Crowley watched as his gaze quickly shot around the room. He hadn’t expected the angel to seem so worried about it, however. This wasn’t the first time Crowley had caught him letting his thoughts get away from him. How was this any different? “When did they -”

"It’s alright angel, I’ll deal with it. This time.” With a wink and a snap of Crowley’s fingers, the humans in the shop had the sudden urge to head far, far away from where they stood. And so they did, some almost bumping into others as they bumbled their way out of the door.

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging. “Thank you, dearest.”

Crowley felt his cheeks burn. “Yeah, well. I knew you were just going to blubber on until I did something. Anyway, I bought you something.” Aziraphale perked up a bit, but then squinted.

"Hold on, you're not holding anything," he accused. Crowley snorted and gave Aziraphale a fond grin.

"Well, 'course not. I said I bought, not that I brought."

"Oh, of course. Where is it then?"

"At my place. You have to come with me to get it."

"Hm, and what if I don't want to come with you? Perhaps I’m quite busy at the moment. Keeping inventory is important, especially after an incident with an Antichrist who could show up at any moment to switch it up again."

Crowley shook his head. "You say that like the boy changed things up on purpose. He probably thought he was helping." He leaned his elbow on the angels desk and propped up his chin to stare down at the soft yellow locks of hair. "You seem a bit off. I've never had to put this much effort into dragging you away. Are you mad? Did I forget something?"

"You didn't forget anything," Aziraphale sighed. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he frowned. Crowley didn't like that. "I'm just getting lost within my head. Nothing to worry a hair on your head about, my dear." The smile he gave then was genuine, so Crowley was just going to let it slide. For now, anyway.

Crowley hummed. "Would it help if I told you what it was I got you?"

Aziraphale was silent for a few moments, but he didn't seem angry so Crowley pushed on. "I could grab us some of those muffins you like. From Patsy's?"

"Cranberry and chocolate pomegranate," the angel said, more to himself than to Crowley. "With some blueberry lemon tea."

"Yeah, sure, whatever sounds good to that palate of yours." Crowley glanced at his wrist where a watch would be if he bothered to own one. "No time like the present century, come on."

“Alright, alright. You’ve tempted me,” Aziraphale laughed softly at his own joke and finally stood to follow Crowley out.

-

It was a short drive back to Crowley’s place. Well, short for Crowley. For everyone else it was probably a while longer of a trip, but that wasn’t his style.

“I do wish you’d calm down on the roads, dear boy,” Aziraphale sighed. Crowley only rolled his eyes as he held the car door open for the other man.

“I’m just saying, angel, if the speedometer goes up to one eighty, I should be allowed to go one eighty.”

“It’s a suggestion not a requirement!”

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up before I eat all of this food myself.” Crowley shook the bag at Aziraphale, who only laughed.

They made their way up to Crowley's flat leisurely despite the threats. The elevator dinged its way up to his floor and soon they were at the door.

"I've even cleaned up a bit since last you'd been here," Crowley bragged. He held the door open for Aziraphale who gave a quick glance around as he stepped into the flat.

"So no more holy water stains?"

"Not a one. I even grabbed that stupid tea maker you mentioned and set it up in the kitchen." At the wide eyes he was given Crowley quickly carried on, "I didn't want more of your complaining about not having guest accommodations." It was the only appliance in the kitchen if you didn’t count the empty fridge and unused stove.

"Oh, of course," Aziraphale agreed easily. Crowley didn't appreciate the sparkle in his eye. It was the one he got whenever Crowley did something marginally nice. Thoughtful even. He refused to acknowledge the warmth it would send up his spine, knowing that Aziraphale approved of the things he was doing.

“I’ll go grab your gift, you just sit on the couch. Eat your snacks,” Crowley said as he dropped the bag of sweets onto the couch. He started to walk down the hallway to his room before turning his head around to give Aziraphale a pointed look. “And don’t even think about bothering my plants this time.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Aziraphale chirped. His hand was already reaching into the bag, so Crowley left him there with a nod.

Crowley hadn’t bothered to wrap the gift, no. If he’d gone the extra step, Aziraphale would start asking questions. It was still neatly folded up in the shop bag, a piece of tissue paper placed on top and keeping the item hidden from view. He never really understood that, tissue paper. Was it supposed to be some sort of garnish? It was a waste of paper at least, and with a thoughtful hum he decided that he would take credit for its creation.

“Here we are,” he announced with a flourish and a wave of his free hand. Aziraphale glanced up at him with mild curiosity, his cheek stuffed with one of the pastries Crowley had grabbed for him on their trip back, eyes following as Crowley set the bag onto the coffee table sat between them.

Crowley sat on the chair across from Aziraphale, watching him from behind dark lenses as the angel finished his muffin and reached for the bag, anticipation building in his stomach. Why was he so nervous about this? He was only doing this to get the frumpy angel to change up his style for once. The thought of Aziraphale not liking his choice made something sour sit on top of the anticipation, which he ignored. He was good at that, ignoring things.

"Oh, it's...huh," Aziraphale hummed as he held up the fabric, and Crowley tensed as he tried to decipher how he felt about that. The feeling of Aziraphale inspecting something, examining a thing that Crowley had chosen to give him. It was a soft cream colored jumper, the fabric made of some sort of wool that felt cozy enough to Crowley when he’d lifted it from the display. "I like the color.” His eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “Are you trying to say something about my wardrobe again?"

He’d thought Jesus hadn’t been too shabby with hitting nails on the head, but sometimes Aziraphale managed a good hit that could startle him for an hour. "Nah," Crowley lied after a moment, "I saw it and thought of you. Honest. Maybe if you added a layer you would feel a bit warmer in the shop. Then you could lower the temperature and make those customers even more miserable than you already do." He was starting to worry he was selling it too hard until Aziraphale’s eyes lit up.

"Oh, that is quite genius."

“I know, ‘swhy I came up with it.” He waved his hand at the other in a shooing motion. “Go on then, try it on.”

Aziraphale gave him a short glare, an assumed response to his commands, but obeyed. He watched as the angel pulled his coat off, leaving behind the usual brown vest and light blue shirt he’d not changed in decades. Crowley couldn’t stop his gaze from falling from the others face to run themselves over Aziraphale’s exposed arms, the muscles tensing and relaxing as he carefully folded up his coat neatly and set it down on Crowley’s couch.

“Vest too,” he helpfully pointed out. The look returned. “What?”

“I don’t really know how this would be counted as ‘adding a layer’ as you put it,” Aziraphale said.

“Well… it’s a thick material. You’ll be warmer I promise.”

Aziraphale said nothing else, only sighing, accepting the answer and continuing on. Crowley himself made no mention that if Aziraphale was so prissy about keeping his clothing neat he could easily miracle them as such, but he knew that would ruin the moment. Instead he kept his gaze on Aziraphale’s hands, thankful that he’d kept on his glasses so the angel had no idea of how intently Crowley was staring as he carefully unbuttoned the vest and set it on top of the coat.

Aziraphale pulled the jumper on in a quick motion, the fluff he called hair looking a right mess from the fabric pulling and pushing at it as he tugged it down. His nose wrinkled slightly, body giving a wiggle that Crowley couldn’t help but snicker at. “I… it’s not terrible.”

Crowley raised a brow. “Not terrible? That’s all?”

“The material is a bit more cozy I’ll admit, I’d have to become used to it.” The angels eyes met Crowley’s suddenly and he couldn’t hold back a slight jump. Aziraphale smiled, almost a grin. “I do appreciate the gift, Crowley. I honestly do. Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Crowley sniffed. “I just thought it might help you get rid of more customers, since you were doing such a rotten job today.” Aziraphale’s smile faltered and he winced. “Not that I should be telling you how to do your job, anyhow. Have as many customers as you want. None of my business.”

“Right,” Aziraphale said. “Oh, well… I was wondering something. Would you want to exchange presents this year?”

“Presents? I suppose we could follow holiday customs if you want.”

“I just thought it could be nice, seeing as the world almost ended this year. A reminder of all that we’ve gained instead of lost.” Aziraphale looked almost fond, at least Crowley thought that’s what it was. Soft, he supposed. Aziraphale had been doing that a lot since they'd both almost died.

“Will this involve the whole thing? Eggnog and a tree? A young couple snogging in your shop under some demon miracled mistletoe?”

“Oh! No, I was thinking more so just be the two of us. More, well, intimate than a party.” The angel fidgeted a bit under his gaze. “Madame Tracy did invite us to her and Shadwell’s flat, for a possible dinner, but I’d rather stay in Soho this season. Travel can be so dreadful, and you know I’m not the best at small talk.”

“...right.”

“I could see about finding a few good wines, you know I always manage to find something lovely when I put my mind to it.”

“That you do,” Crowley murmured. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Yeah, sure I guess. I can’t count this as your present, can I?” He couldn’t help but snort at the incredulous look Aziraphale gave him. “I’m kidding, swear it. I’ll think up something nice for you.”

Aziraphale’s face was definitely fond this time. “Yes, nice indeed. Anyway, I do believe I should be heading back.” He stood, and Crowley had to bite his own tongue so as not to invite the angel to stay the night. He even had better furniture than the last time the angel had been there. The style could even be said to match Aziraphale’s tastes; the matching couch and chair they sat in were a dark brown, somehow still matching Crowley’s aesthetic in their sleekness. Function over comfort, unless a certain angel were to lay down and feel the couch become softer underneath.

“Lift home?” Crowley asked. The thoughtful look that passed over Aziraphale’s face reminded him of the last time he’d made that offer. He bit back a hiss; he wasn’t sure how to feel about his, well, feelings. “Could get cold.”

At that, Aziraphale perked up. “Oh, well luckily for me a kind friend of mine has just gifted me quite a lovely jumper.”

“Alright, nevermind,” Crowley grumbled and with a quick snap of his fingers had himself lounged across the couch instead, head tilting back as he watched Aziraphale grab his folded clothes. “Don’t let the door smack you on the ass on your way out.”

“Is that a new feature you’ve added?” Crowley sputtered as Aziraphale laughed, and after saying a soft goodbye he left the demons flat.

Crowley stared at his ceiling, frown building across his face as he thought about his plans. Now that he’d started to put everything into motion, things felt delicate. Fragile, even. Was he honestly worried about Aziraphale hating the things he was going to give him? It wasn’t the first time that he’d been a nuisance to the angel, he usually delighted in proving him wrong in trivial things like this. Fashion was, well, fun.

Nodding to himself, he slipped down from the couch and slinked off to his room for a nap. His next gift would be even better than the last. And maybe Aziraphale would see it as a good thing that Crowley was trying to make sure his look wasn’t - as the kids said - whack.

-

Crowley received his next opportunity a few days later.

The weather had gotten colder over the week, clouds forming overhead with what was probably snow and maybe a freezing rain on top if Crowley wanted it. Not that he did, no. He was perfectly fine with the snow and rain staying right as they were, up in the sky and not falling until much later after they’d left the park.

Crowley watched as his companion tossed a handful of seeds to the ducks, the fat fluffy birds honking at each other as they fought over the food. Aziraphale merely chuckled at the sight, tossing even more to them. “There’s enough for you all, I promise,” he told them.

“Don’t think that matters to them, angel,” Crowley said. He pointed a few yards away, where another group of ducks seemed to be making their way over with a quick waddle. “You’re going to get them all worked up if you keep trying to feed them all.”

“I just want to make sure they don’t get too cold this winter,” Aziraphale protested.

Crowley only hummed. He stretched lazily, resting an arm along the back of the bench until he could almost touch the fabric of Aziraphale’s coat. He wasn’t wearing the jumper the demon had bought him, which was only a touch upsetting. Really. It was just a bit of a let down since that meant step one hadn’t worked. The jumper was probably tucked away somewhere, lost to the world until Aziraphale would remember it a few years later. Maybe he didn’t know he could have just layered his coat on top of it.

A silence settled over them after that. There was nothing awkward about it, nor tense, just a calm feeling that rested under Crowley’s skin, like a heat lamp set to Low over his head while he dozed. Not that he owned a heat lamp, of course. They both had a habit of rambling while together, bickering or going on about subjects only interesting to them. In the past there had always been a weight hanging over them while meeting in public, a worry that if they stayed standing near each other for too long someone from their respective office would take note and smite them. Or something to that effect.

Crowley let his knee bump against Aziraphale, grounding himself to the bench and to the moment. They no longer had to worry about anyone glancing at what they were doing together. It was a lot for him suddenly, to realize that nothing was keeping them apart, to truly understand what it meant to have someone who trusted him, and he trusted back. Fuck.

“It’s nice,” Aziraphale said, softly.

“Yeah,” Crowley answered. He wasn’t sure if Aziraphale meant the weather, or the view, or the fat ducks nipping at his fingers as they searched for more seed. Crowley didn’t.

A sudden gust of wind passed over them, the breeze cold as it rushed over their faces and making Crowley wince. Aziraphale shivered next to him.

“Oh, dreadful,” he cursed. “I always forget how susceptible my vessel is to the chill.”  

“Should have worn the jumper I got you,” Crowley pointed out unhelpfully. Served Aziraphale right, really.

“I had thought about it, but it didn’t have a pocket for my watch. I felt naked without it,” Aziraphale said with a sigh. He was frowning now, bottom lip almost quivering and Crowley couldn’t let that happen.

“Here, idiot,” Crowley grumbled. He’d been wearing a dark red scarf that day, and with a quick tug he had it off and held out to the other man. Aziraphale blinked, startled. “Come on, I know you know how to put on a scarf.”

“Right.” Aziraphale took the scarf and wrapped it around his own neck, his eyes fluttering shut as he once again sighed, this time in contentment. “Oh, how lovely.”

Crowley felt his cheeks begin to flush. Aziraphale’s smile had always done odd things to him, reactions that he never could understand entirely. Warmth, a lot of it, that was something he could recognize at least. Recently - hell maybe even before that, maybe even before the end of the world was laid upon the head of a baby - the odd feelings had begun to increase beyond just having the warmth building inside. Combined with the nervousness he’d started to feel about giving Aziraphale things, well, he had no fucking clue what any of it meant.

"You could have just miracled a pocket onto the jumper you know," Crowley pointed out as he hid the fact he might have been panicking a bit. He carefully clenched the hand that Aziraphale couldn’t see behind him. "Then you wouldn't be shivering."

"Ah, I suppose," Aziraphale replied. His eyes were focused on the scarf, rubbing the fabric between his fingers thoughtfully. "It just doesn’t feel right altering a gift, you see."

“Nah, not really. If the thing I got you isn’t good enough, you can fix it, angel,” he complained. “It’s useless if you don’t wear it.” Crowley startled as a warmth settled itself upon his leg. He glanced down to see that Aziraphale had placed a hand there, squeezing his knee. A shock went through him, and for a moment he didn’t hear the other start to speak.

“I’m not saying that it isn’t good enough, dear boy. I’d never want to alter a gift, especially something you specifically picked out for me.” Aziraphale’s tone was soft, and Crowley almost had to lean closer to hear. Hark the southern pansy sings, more like. “I’ve been wearing it in my shop, since I don’t really need my watch there.”

“Right, yes, yeah,” Crowley cleared his throat and suddenly stood. “Remembered a thing. Need to be places, break things, usual. Lots of glue. See ya later, angel.” He refused to call what he was doing a run, but his steps were quick as he left the park, carefully tuning out the sound of Aziraphale calling out for him in confusion. He’d make it up to him later. Right now he needed to drink, alone, and spend the rest of his afternoon getting rid of the odd feeling that was winding its way up his chest and filling it with warmth.

As he made his great escape from the angel, Crowley realized he’d forgotten to take his scarf back from him. It was almost enough to turn him back around, but he pressed on. It worked out honestly, seeing as he hadn't had the time to hand over the pair of gloves he'd been planning to gift the angel that day. He could just count the scarf as another gift, and a win for fashion.

-

After the park incident, Crowley made himself a bit more scarce. He wasn't outright avoiding Aziraphale, that was a ridiculous idea. No, Crowley was merely plotting you see. Obviously.

In the following week, he'd made about ten more purchases. Having access to the internet should have made this process easier in the long run, but he still preferred to browse shops so he could get his eyes and fingers on the exact look and texture that was perfect for the angel.

If someone from Below could see how long he'd been thoughtfully eyeing two bowties that were almost exact copies of each other - they weren't, obviously, it was just that sometimes tartans were hard to identify - they would have mocked him. Honestly, Crowley wouldn't have blamed them. It would have been ten times easier for him to just imagine what he wanted in his head, and then create it with a snap. But no, he couldn't do that. For some reason, it felt better to pick something that had already been made. It made Crowley feel, well, good about it.

Aziraphale was obviously rubbing off on him if he was starting to understand what it meant to make a gift sentimental.

It was still easier to not look the angel in the eyes when he gave him the gifts, however. The day after he'd ran from the park Crowley had ended up sending Aziraphale the gloves in the mail. For outside use, don't use them in your store and complain because you can't turn the pages of your precious books. He didn't bother signing the note, obviously.

In return he had received a package containing the scarf he had lent to the angel. He didn't bother checking for a note, instead choosing to reseal the box and send it back. Written in sharpie across the top now was the message Don't return gifts, angel.

-

Aziraphale visited him the next day, knocking on the door as though Crowley didn't know he was there. The air was colder than it had been the last time they'd met, and the angel had dressed accordingly. He was wearing the jumper and gloves, and wrapped around his neck was the scarf. Crowley's chest felt warm, much too full for just seeing the angel wearing something that wasn't entirely out of date for once. No, it felt almost right to see the angel like this, wearing things that he had chosen for him. Aziraphale was happy with the things Crowley had picked out.

Crowley was starting to wonder if what he thought was his stomach going hot was actually his heart. Anatomy wasn't his best subject.

"I thought that today might be good for us to exchange presents," Aziraphale told him with a smile. Crowley now noticed the bottle of wine tucked in his arms, almost cradling the thing like a baby. He did tend to treat his liquors like precious children.

"Alright then," Crowley agreed, holding the door open so the angel could walk inside. "I'll have to go grab it, I've got it tucked away." Which was a lie, really. All he'd done was store it with all the other gifts that had started to crowd his closet.

It was easy for Crowley to forget sometimes that Aziraphalel was actually capable of catching on to his dumb plans. But really, could anyone actually blame him? The man called Velvet Underground "bee bop" as though that was an actual thing!

It was Aziraphale's fault really, changing their routine so suddenly. Crowley was so used to the angel just nodding while he disappeared deeper into the flat, he hadn’t expected him to trail after as he’d left to go grab his last present for him, the official one anyway.

Crowley took a moment as he stood in front of his opened closet, eyes scanning between a few different ideas before stopping on an item right in front of his eyes. Tweed had been something that always reminded Crowley of a professor with large spectacles, or a grandfather. Luckily through the power of flickering the power until another customer fucked off, he’d found a nice brown one that could fit perfectly with the still plain aesthetic Aziraphale stubbornly refused to switch from. He had a few pieces like that hung up next to it, after he'd realized that keeping them in their respective bags was taking up too much of his own space, and causing dreadful wrinkles.

He’d just grabbed the hanger that held up the garment when he realized with a start that someone was behind him, a certain angelic presence that could now see the area he’d started to store all of the future planned gifts. Shit.

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed out as Crowley turned to face him. His eyes were wide, and Crowley watched in silence as he began to walk into the room. “Crowley, dear…”

“What?” Crowley didn’t see what the issue was. Where else was he going to store all of the outfits he’d been planning to gift Aziraphale? “Do you not like it? Drawing the line at professional dweeb?”

“No, no it’s not…” He shut his mouth. Opened it again. “I never would have thought that this was your plan.”

“Ah,” Crowley sucked on his teeth, jaw clenched, “I should have gone for a more direct approach, shouldn’t I?”

Aziraphale stood next to him in front of the closet, his eyes passing over all of the different things he’d been planning to give to Aziraphale over the next month. Soft browns, creams and a few splashes of green stood out strong against the rest of the wardrobe where his own dark red and black clothing stayed. The brown tweed jacket Crowley still held was a bit striking so close to a black mesh crop top, if he’d thought about it.

“I can just toss it all, angel. Don’t worry too much,” Crowley quickly told him. The pit in his stomach was tight, he couldn’t tell for the life of him what Aziraphale was thinking right now. It probably wasn’t anger, maybe annoyance at most that Crowley had been meddling in his life like this. He lifted a hand to snap the clothing away when Aziraphale suddenly grabbed onto his wrist.

“No!” Aziraphale shouted. Crowley couldn’t help but focus his gaze on their hands as Aziraphale moved to interlock their fingers. His heart pounded heavy in his chest, and he couldn’t help himself from tightening the grip. “I’m just honestly surprised we were having the same sort of ideas, really.”

“We were,” Crowley said, dumbfounded.

“But to be honest, I shouldn’t be so shocked,” Aziraphale continued with a laugh, “I’ve always known that at times we’re two sides of the same coin dear boy.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure how he’d missed out on the fact that Aziraphale was planning to go after Crowley’s own wardrobe. Was he so focused on his own mischief that he’d missed out on a golden opportunity to watch Aziraphale’s bastard side shine through? Tragic.

“I think it’s so lovely that we’ve both started to realize where all of this was heading.” Aziraphale’s tone was soft, and his thumb ran careful circles against Crowley’s knuckles. Crowley couldn’t look away for the life of him. “To be honest, I had thought we’d move into my shop, but thinking it over now it would be easier for us both to live here.”

Crowley forgot how to breathe. Moving? Together? With Crowley?

“My floors are concrete,” he blurted out. “My plants take over an entire area. You hate modern furniture.” His heart was racing and he was surprised that Aziraphale couldn’t hear the sound. He could barely comprehend what was even happening!

“Love is built upon patience and compromise, dearest. A sacrifice to, well, taste, I suppose, is something I can accept. Besides, you even bought me a lovely tea maker I mentioned enjoying!"

“Ngk,” Crowley replied. Love. Love was. Was that what he was feeling? The emotions inside him that had been building for years, centuries buried deep within as he squashed them flat. Out of sight out of mind, out of his own mind because he was in love.

"Oh, I do hope I haven't upset you," Aziraphale said. Crowley merely choked on his own tongue. "I know that while we do tend to reach for the same goals, we don't always follow the same path."

"I love you," Crowley replied. His head was swimming. "All this time."

"I had always thought, well, hoped really," his angel spoke softly, eyes crinkled warm while he smiled up at him. "I never wanted to push. I've known for a while that demons indeed can feel love, it's just difficult because they cannot comprehend it. I'm so glad I was right."

Crowley's limbs felt like rubber, and he clung tightly to Aziraphale, body shaking as he tried to fight through the feelings of love love it's love I'm in love to get his words out. "You too?"

"Always, dearest." Crowley had no other thoughts after that, all of his attention zoned in on Aziraphale as the angel kissed him.

-

It didn't take long after that to adjust their living spaces together. Warm green plants started new life in bookshop windows. Tall shelves lined gray walls, each row filled with hundreds of books. An overstuffed couch clashed horribly with a more modern coffee table.

A sleepy demon dozed on that couch while a content angel sipped tea as he read another book. Aziraphale ran his manicured nails through Crowley's hair and he swore he could hear him purr.

"You still owe me a gift, angel," a tired voice mumbled. "I moved you in first, so that doesn't count." Aziraphale laughed, setting down his book as he dug something out of one of his many pockets.

"Of course love, you just reminded me of it." From an inner breast pocket he removed a tartan patterned glasses case, which he opened in front of the demons face so he could also see inside.

It was a pair of sunglasses, much like the pair the demon was already wearing. Instead of dark black lenses, however, the glass was a softer brown in color. The frames matched the case. They looked horrible, to be honest. "They'll block out your eyes, of course."

"I love them," Crowley answered, truthfully.

Witches, Chapter 11: I split another giant chapter in half. In this portion, I set up a filler case that exists purely to set the scene and allow me to make up two very bad AA-style pun names; shit hasn’t quite gotten real but it sure is about to; and Athena makes some new friends.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

The Wright Anything Agency isn’t lucky.

Apollo should just expect that from the start. He didn’t, this time, because he trusted Phoenix - that being a loaded statement - to know what he was talking about and assumed - bad idea - that if he bothered to say Tenma Taro would be weaker at midsummer, then there was some chance of waiting. That it would lay low to wait out the fervor of the trial and the attention turned toward the Vale. That it wouldn’t wreak havoc immediately.

But they’re just a few days into May when the office phone rings with a call from a young woman who lives in Tenma Town and has been charged with robbing her prior place of employment. “Jinxie Tenma gave me your number,” she says, in between sobs, “and said you would believe me th - that - that I think Tenma Taro did it.”

“Of course we believe you,” Apollo assures her. Athena stands on her chair, propping herself on her desk, leaning forward to listen. With her ears, she can probably hear the other end of the line just fine. She might also be able to hear Apollo’s - not doubt, exactly, or disbelief, but the uncertainty he keeps feeling over Tenma Taro. None of them have seen it. They have Filch’s word, and they all know he wasn’t lying, but could he have been mistaken? Could Phoenix’s fae ‘friends’ have been mistaken in what they thought Phoenix was asking them about?

(He doubts it, but he still doesn’t think he knows well enough what they’re getting into.)

Athena searched all of LA’s used car lots for one that was yellow - “I’m like the cab driver for all of you at the agency, and also I just love yellow” - and with a new-old car they take the well-worn path back up to Nine-Tails Vale. Tenma Town is perched a little higher up the valley but has a similar old-fashioned cobblestone vibe, though some more modern office buildings dot the streets here and there. The town square is centered on a large fountain and a statue that Apollo doesn’t think is Tenma Taro, but it’s birdlike enough that it evokes that image. 

Their client, Isabella Pyrria - picked up overnight, released on bail in the morning, returned home, and called them as soon as she made it back - is still teary-eyed when they meet her at a bench by the fountain. She explains that she likes to go on walks in the evenings and her favorite route goes past the antiques store she was fired from at the beginning of April, and she hadn’t bothered to change her route because a lot of cool moths congregate under the awning at the cafe next door. She pulls out her phone to show them pictures. Athena nods at each photo, solemnly and knowingly. “I’m more of a marine mammals person myself,” she says, “but I like the fuzzy ones and their…” She holds her hands to her forehead, two fingers raised on each, and wiggles them. “Antenna. What’re your favorite animals, Apollo?”

“Can we get back to the case, please?” he asks.

Isabella swears to them that when she passed by the store sometime around 10 pm, there was nothing wrong. She didn’t stop long to investigate this spring’s batch of caterpillars, because she was trying to get to the corner store before it closed, because she hadn’t had anything for dinner. She made it there, stayed until closing chatting with the owner and petting the bodega cat, and when she came back out she heard the sirens and saw the police cruiser lights. 

The antique store’s security camera, mounted outside above the door, broke two months ago and was never fixed, but only employees knew this. Security tapes from cameras outside other buildings further down the street in both directions showed she was the only person who had passed by either. Anyone walking to the antiques store would be spotted by either of those.

“But Tenma Taro doesn’t have to walk,” Isabella says. “It could just fly straight down and land in front and not be seen.”

“Why would a yokai rob an antiques store?” Athena asks. “Why would a yokai rob anywhere?”

“To cause chaos?” Apollo suggests. What do yokai even do - they’re all so very individual? He did some cursory internet research but couldn’t find anything on Tenma Taro; it might as well have just come out of nowhere here in California. The scroll Jinxie said was the only image of it really is only one of two, the Forbidden Chamber scroll showing the gold ore being the other. 

“I don’t know why anyone would rob that antiques store,” Isabella says, toying with the hair tie around her wrist. “It’s got pretty stuff but it’s all cheap. There’s nothing worth taking there.”

Her fingers, plucking at the hair tie and smacking it against her wrist, are illuminated red. “Ms Pyrria,” Apollo says. “Are you being fully honest with us? There really isn’t anything that you or anyone would want to take?”

She lowers her eyes to her hands. “We did have, um, a coupon deal with a really good pizza place over in the Vale. Supposed to give one out with every purchase but I kinda just, um, took a whole bunch once I got fired. But that was it.”

That looks true. Apollo glances to Athena, who nods with a secondary confirmation. Okay. They’ve got this much figured out. Now to the scene of the crime.

The antique shop’s windows are shattered, everything that was displayed in them cracked and shattered across the floor inside and the sidewalk outside. Athena leans into the window to examine a typewriter. “You don’t think there could’ve been some kind of magic artifact in here that it wanted to get?” Apollo asks. “Something languishing as just a normal family heirloom that someone dumped off here?”

“Ooh, maybe,” Athena says. “I guess they’d probably have to take inventory to really find out if stuff’s missing, and this is uh - big mess.” She points with her thumb at the police tape across the doorway. “Can we just head in?”

“Er—” They should probably introduce themselves to a detective first, lower the chances of being yelled at once they’re inside. Apollo glances in through the doorway, hoping to catch sight of anyone in there investigating. Maybe most of the investigating already happened? “I guess…?”

Before he’s really finished saying it, Athena ducks under the tape and heads inside. Apollo lifts it up to follow her. If he’s honest with himself he’s not sure what he hopes they can find. Feathers again, maybe? The interior of the shop is densely packed with tables and shelving upturned and overturned, and what would have once been a clear path or two through are cluttered. Apollo steps over a tall wicker flower stand, lying on its side, and a pillow that was probably hand-embroidered. Athena has stopped with her neck craned to the side, reading the titles of the few books still left on a shelf. 

Oh, this is going to be rough, to stay focused, when this isn’t a murder and there’s not a particular area, the place where a body was, the place where the killing happened, to hone in on. He’s defended a smattering of other cases between the large nightmarish ones that weren’t murders, but neither did they have very complicated scenes. And no co-counsel distracted by knick-knacks, either. 

“Athena,” he says. She jumps, already having become engrossed. “We should probably give the whole place a once-over, see if anything jumps out, find a detective to talk to, and then we can try and look for anything else that—”

“Hey!” A woman’s voice cuts through the stillness, a loud, indignant squawk. “Who’s in here? This is a - oh! Yo! Apolly!”

Athena’s eyebrows rise and disappear beneath her bangs. “D-Detective Faraday?” Apollo asks, turning around and unable to look for her due to making sure he doesn’t place his feet on anything breakable. 

“Long time no see!” Kay chirps, with an air of familiarity that far surpasses the scant two times they’ve actually met. From New Years he’s pretty sure that she gives Y-suffix nicknames to everyone she can, but that doesn’t make it any better when Athena is snickering at him. “I mean, I expected to see you soon, what with Tenma Taro, but not quite this soon. And who’s this?” She extends a hand to Athena. “Hi, I’m Detective Kay Faraday!”

“Defense attorney Athena Cykes!” The two seem to be competing to see who can more enthusiastically shake the other’s hand. “Nice to meet you! What can you tell us about the case so far?”

Laughing brightly, Kay shakes her head, her black hair flying everywhere. “I’m not Emmy,” she says. “I’m not just gonna purposely give up the prosecution’s whole case right here. Besides.” She props her hands on her hips. “Tonight we’re going hunting for Tenma Taro anyway, and I’m sure you’ll get enough accidental stuff from us on how we totally believe yeah, it’s that big ol’ turkey causing trouble.”

Athena asks who “Emmy” is, and as Kay explains Ema and her general lack of concern for prosecutorial secrecy, Apollo picks his way through the mess to a door left ajar in the back, into a smaller, even more cluttered room, where none of the objects still left on the shelving have price tags. Prosecutor Debeste stands wedged between a rocking chair and a dresser with a shattered mirror, his upper body twisted awkwardly to give him room to move his arms and jot something down in a little notebook. “Where’s the line between antiques and junk?” Apollo asks, deciding that there is no good way any further into this room, and since he can see most of it, he should probably just stay planted here in the doorway.

“How much it sells for, maybe?” Sebastian offers up weakly. “Is this a trick question?”

“I guess it is, since I don’t have an answer.” Apollo has difficulty trying to survey the room; there’s too much going on, too much clutter that keeps drawing his eye one way and then another, and it takes longer than he thinks it should for him to notice the deep scratches in the wall. Three rivets straight down, tearing apart the wallpaper and wood, about two inches in between them, spaced like claw marks. “Do you have an explanation for that?” he asks, pointing to it.

Sebastian shakes his head and his glasses slide down his nose. “Not really a plausible one besides ‘giant bird monster’. The defendant could persum - presumably have made them with something she found laying around here, there’s some old farm tools kinds of things, but then the question is—”

“Why bother?” 

Sebastian nods sharply. “Exactly. It’s not a message or any code or something that the shop owner recognizes, and it would be a waste of time with more chance to be caught. And with—” He points down, in front of Apollo, and Apollo examines the floor to see more gashes in the wood, of the same spacing as those on the wall, like a giant bird-monster walking about on its talons. “That, too.” 

And maybe someone’s trying to frame a yokai for the crime, again, play on those fears, but it seems like even more effort to go to. “Is there anything noticeably missing?” Apollo asks. Plenty could be not-so-noticeably missing, all kinds of little knick-knacks, but that can’t be the purpose - no one is going to rob a store for 25-cent porcelain cat figurines. “Cash register, or any large or valuable stuff?”

“The register hadn’t been touched,” Sebastian says. “No fingerprints, nothing missing. The only thing the owner noticed so far and told me is that back here she had - she said it was a weird-looking stone she’d never figured out a price for because she didn’t know what it was or was made of. She said it was roughly” - he holds up his hands, less then a foot apart, and cupped toward each other. “And shaped like a six.”

Apollo’s stomach sinks, which has become a very familiar sensation in this kind of context. “A magatama?” he asks, pressing a hand to his forehead. He knew this wouldn’t be a normal case. It’s still going terribly. “A large magatama? That would be reason enough for Tenma Taro to break into a random human establishment, more than just scaring the townspeople.”

“If I were trying to scare the town, I’d hit up more than one place,” Athena says. She leans against the doorframe and peers in, as Kay attempts to squeeze in around her and past Apollo. “Just make it a random selection, no pattern, and not attack everywhere. Leave some dread that I’ll come back and get some of the people I spared before.”

“Dread’s a key part,” Kay agrees. “Especially drop some warning in advance, not enough for anyone to be able to stop you, but just enough to make them all anxious and freaked out waiting for the worst.”

“Okay, so you’re both evil,” Apollo says. Athena chortles and Kay breaks into full cackling. “That’s probably a good thing for me to know ahead of time, before we get any further on this.”

“Before we venture into the woods in the dark with them, you mean,” Sebastian says.

“In the dark?” Apollo repeats. “In the—”

“We’ve got, uh, ‘sources’,” Kay says, making the quotation marks with one hand, while in the other she holds and examines a teacup that had managed to survive the initial catastrophe. “Informants who’ve been keeping an eye out to make sure things don’t go belly-up without us knowing.”

“Like other detectives or officers or something?” Athena asks, with a few wide-eyed blinks of confusion. 

“Something,” Sebastian agrees. Apollo makes a note to himself to look out for crows. “But we know Tenma Taro doesn’t emerge during the day. You’ll have time to investigate in town; Ms Teak, the shop owner, went out for lunch but she told us she would be coming back, uh…” Sebastian checks his watch, pushing apart his sleeve and his glove to get to its face. “Soon? She lives above the shop, which is how she knew about the crime so quickly.”

“We should definitely talk to her, then,” Athena says. “And then at sunset we’ve got a whole new investigation to start!”

-

Ms Teak is a short, white-haired old lady who invites Apollo and Athena up to her living quarters above the shop, offers them tea, and insists that they call her “Auntie” even after they tell her they are Isabella’s lawyers. “That girl,” she says with a sad shake of her head, nearly spilling the tea that she pours for Athena, and Athena almost jostles the pot out of her hands eagerly trying to reach over and steady it. “She’s a sweet girl, but her head’s so far up in the clouds at the best of times. I just couldn’t keep rebalancing the register because she got her math all wrong. Or I’d tell her where to go clean and find an hour later she hadn’t done anything because she’d started with dusting the bookshelf and started thumbing through the first book to catch her eye. Cookies, dears?”

“Er, no thanks,” Apollo says at the same time Athena says, “Sure! Thank you very much!”

Depending on what sorts of witnesses she takes this offer from, she might end up in big trouble; but Apollo showed the blackmail letter to L’Belle and he stole it and destroyed it, so maybe he’s not that much better at proper witness protocol. Other subjects that should probably be taught in law school.

“I hate to think that such a sweet girl would be capable of this,” Ms Teak continues, returning to the small round table and setting down a little plate of tea biscuits. All of the decor of the house is mismatched, like it’s all come out of the antiques store at some point or another: a wicker chair next to a polished brown wood one next to a bar stool of almost equal height to the table, a white-and-gold teapot on a blue porcelain saucer, a cutting board shaped like a pig hanging on the kitchen wall visible from where they now sit in the tiny cramped dining area. “I had to let her go, you understand. It simply wasn’t working out. But I’ve got no ill-will toward the dear girl, and I’d hoped she had none toward me. Oh, dear, dear.” She pulls the wicker chair away from the table, that Apollo now can see the green flowered seat cushion and the pillow with an embroidered - opossum? Is that a possum? - resting against the back. 

“How did she react when you told her that you were firing her?” Apollo asks. He watches Athena reach slowly for another cookie, like if she moves slow enough she won’t be noticed, and when she returns it to her mouth she nibbles at it like a squirrel, if a squirrel were nibbling because it realized it isn’t professional or polite to just scarf it down. 

“Oh, the poor thing cried, of course. So embarrassed and ashamed of all the mistakes she’d made. Hated to think she’d failed at anything though I tried so hard to assure her that just because she wasn’t good at some things didn’t mean she wouldn’t find a passion that she could get her head locked into.”

“Yeah, I got a big sense of shame and sadness when she mentioned being fired, too,” Athena says quietly, tapping at the side of Widget. “Definitely not anything vindictive.”

“I do hope you’re right,” Ms Teak says. “I do hope you and that other nice young pair - how old are you? I swear all of you professional-types get younger and younger these days - can make sure she didn’t do it and find who did.” She sighs. “And I’ve got to clean up that mess they made, and I’d just gotten done all my spring reorganizing of the shop done, too.”

“The stone that was stolen from the back room,” Apollo says. “The prosecutor mentioned that. Do you remember where that came from originally?”

“Oh, I had that old thing for years,” Ms Teak replies. “Maybe a decade or more, now. I don’t quite remember when but my memory is sharp that it was Ms Tenma, rest her soul - the mayor’s wife, I mean, dear little Jinxie’s mother - who brought it in, asked me if I’d ever seen anything like it and told me she didn’t want it back, that I was free to sell it or get rid of it however I like. She said she didn’t know what it was either, but it made her so uneasy she wanted it out. Didn’t ask where she got it from, didn’t feel that was my business. Strange things happen in this town, you know.”  

Apollo knows. Apollo knows well that this one of, but not the only, the towns where strange things happen. Ms Teak glares at them over her teacup. “Best not to ask, sometimes.” She says it like advice, a warning. “And I kept telling myself I should get rid of it, but I’ve been so darned curious that I could never make myself ask for a few dollars for it, or just throw it in a river, you understand?” She shakes her head, sending her white curls bouncing. “Maybe whatever it belongs to wanted it back now, and poor Isabella’s lucky she wasn’t walking past at the time it arrived. Though maybe sharp young lawyers like you two don’t believe in that sort of thing?” She raises an eyebrow as she takes another sip of her tea.

“We’re the lawyers who defended Mayor Tenma when he was charged with murder last month,” Apollo says, hoping that the mayor’s popularity has continued to climb, hoping that he was never so hated here in Tenma Town, and that his saying this won’t be a black mark. “We’re, um, familiar with the goings-on around here.”

“That was you?” she asks, surprised, setting down her teacup and saucer. “My goodness. All of those big cases you must get, if the mayor chose you as his lawyers, and here you are up this way for little Isabella.”

“We don’t really—” Apollo begins, because really, it was a lucky fluke that they got to represent the mayor, and luckier that they didn’t entirely blow it, but Athena kicks him in the shin before he can correct Ms Teak on their office’s humble and confusing existence. 

“Thank you darlings oh so much for helping out our little town, once again.”

“It’s our pleasure!” Athena replies, taking another cookie. 

-

“She’s the most pleasant witness we’ve ever had!” Athena says brightly, once they’ve left behind the shop to compile their information back in the sunlight of the street. “What a great chance of pace!”

“You’ve had exactly one case before this,” Apollo says. “You can’t say that like—”

“Like Filch and L’Belle weren’t both terrible?” Athena interrupts. She’s unequivocally correct, of course, even without her knowing that Apollo, after his first case, would have had the same reaction to a cooperative, forthcoming, honest, friendly client; after dealing with Olga Orly, Phoenix, and Kristoph. Apollo would have had this same response, but didn’t, because all of the witnesses in his second case were also terrible. 

She grins at his silence, knowing what it means, and from her skirt pocket produces yet another cookie. 

-

The alderman’s manor and garden are closed to the public of Nine-Tails Vale - and indeed, anywhere else - for the foreseeable future, but Jinxie still has possession of the master key and has been in to clean up and keep dust from gathering. “The alderman’s wife is still in the hospital,” she explains, “but Papa and I went to see her and she told us that she trusted the town was in good hands with us.” She squares her shoulders, a stack of charms still arrayed in her hand, ready to strike, but instead of slapping one onto Apollo’s head she just offers one to him and Athena. “So we can’t let her down!”

Kay sits on the carpet in the foyer with three boxes of pizza and one of breadsticks. “Ms Teak let me and Sebby take some coupons!” she chirps. “I thought it’s important that we all get some food in us before we head out! Sebby’s on his way over, but I flew out here ahead of time to get us food. You’re welcome!” She waves a breadstick at them and Athena enthusiastically flings herself to the floor, Jinxie sinking down with a bit more grace. 

Out the window, the sun is no longer visible, its last vestiges of light barely illuminating the horizon, but the sky is still the light blue of early dusk, nothing that Apollo would yet be worried about roaming around in. Sebastian arrives, with Phoenix and Trucy trailing him, in the blue-black, when several stars are visible along with the moon. “Papa’s up in the Fox Chamber,” Jinxie tells Phoenix. “Trying to get the Forbidden Chamber back in order, make sure it’s all set up.” She offers all three of them warding charms, as she had before. “And he’s talking to the woman who showed up earlier.”

“What woman?” Phoenix asks through a mouthful of pizza.

Jinxie shrugs. “I slapped her with a warding charm when she came in - not one of the protective charms I’ve given you, but one to keep a demon in and stop it from using its powers. And she didn’t mind that so I guessed she can’t be that evil, and Papa has the Nine-Tails to protect him. She’s very pretty - um, she has black hair and was wearing a kimono.”

Oh. That is very unfortunately familiar, too. Phoenix presses a hand over his face and sighs. “Did I do something wrong?” Jinxie asks. “Do you know her?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Phoenix assures her, and after the initial moment has passed, he looks more concerned with whether he wants to finish his slice of pizza. “I know both of the likely options, and there are - there could be worse things. Or people.”

“Mr Wright, do you know how to say things that aren’t cryptic and ominous?” Kay asks. Apollo’s glad he’s not the only one left wondering that question, and that Kay is secure enough to say it out loud, too. Maybe sooner or later Phoenix will get the point, will get tired of hearing it and adapt. Or maybe sooner than that they’ll all be eaten by a yokai.

Jinxie springs to her feet and races up the stairs, calling for her father. She returns two minutes later with Mayor Tenma and a woman who Apollo recognizes, her straight black hair as glassy as ice and her dark, sad eyes. Jinxie was right to take a precaution against her - stuck right in the center of her forehead is a paper charm. “Well, this is a surprise,” Phoenix says lightly, but his posture shifts the moment he sees her, contracting, tightening up from the loose ease he held himself with. When he finishes speaking his mouth has a plastic quality to it, the corner frozen in a lopsided and failed smile. “What are you doing here, Iris?”

He looks so much less comfortable with her here than he did in the office last year, but there’s more people here, more than just Apollo and Trucy to wonder what it is about them, between them. Iris appears no more confident, bowing to Phoenix and never quite straightening up, her hands folded in front of herself, her shoulders turning slightly inward with them. “Since you consulted the Mystic on this matter of Tenma Taro, she was concerned about what may happen to you attempting to reimprison it yourself. Or even with assistance.”

“And I assured Miss… Iris,” Mayor Tenma says, his pronunciation of her name slow and doubtful, like he knows what she is, knows this name is not entirely true to her, “that with the power of the Nine-Tailed Fox, there is little to fear.”

“As I understand.” Iris inclines her head up and to the side, and when her hair swings down and catches the light, as Apollo remembers, it has an auburn sheen. “Understand me, Mayor, that I am not here to tread on your authority, nor to doubt the power of your village’s guardian. When I say that the Fox is weaker than it was when Tenma Taro was first imprisoned, I do not mean that it and you are weak - simply weaker. And there is a ritual to prepare in the Chamber to bind the demon again, and a vast swath of forest to search through. Are we to wait for you to be finished with the Chamber to begin? The Mystic requested of me to keep our friends safe, and that is what I intend to do.”

“I’m surprised Maya didn’t come down here herself,” Phoenix says. “I think I’m overdue for her yelling at me.” He says it tonelessly, with a roll of his eyes, though the implication is obvious, that Maya is one of the fae, and Apollo would never be so casual about having one of the fae angry with him. 

“Oh, don’t worry.” Iris smiles with lips pressed tight together. “She will not forget that she has criticisms of your handling of the past eight years. But we all agreed for this situation that both she and my sweet little sister bear a worrying lack of subtlety that could have unfortunate repercussions.”

“Right,” Phoenix agrees. “Pearls would slap a yokai straight through a house. Take care of that situation but level half the town in the process.”

“Indeed. And I was already in the area, over at Hazakurain, and it was not too far to come over. Sister Bikini’s back has been bothering her more lately and I had thought to offer some assistance to the temple.” Iris’ smile gets a little wider, a little less forced. “She still asks after your well-being, and that of a certain handsome prosecutor as well.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Phoenix’s mouth quirks into an equally small smile, and then he claps his hands together and brings them up in front of his mouth. “All right,” he says. “What’s our plan? Iris? Mr Tenma?”

“I have spent these past two weeks, with the assistance of the Nine-Tails, seeking out Tenma Taro, but he has avoided me,” the mayor explains. “It is my hope that you would be able to assist in flushing him out and driving him to a place that I would be able to finish dragging him back into the Forbidden Chamber.”

“So we are gonna be bait!” Athena says. 

“No,” Phoenix says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sort of. Tenma Taro’s weak after being locked up for so long - not weak enough to not be a threat, but enough that it’s going to stay the hell away from its old enemy.” A wave of his hand in the direction of Mayor Tenma. “It’s not going to be so cautious when you kids go tromping into the woods. You’d just smell and seem like - people. Traces of magic, yeah, sure, but none of you are foxes.”

“So it’ll just think we’re tasty snacks and not expect us to kick its butt?” Athena asks.

“Tasty,” Trucy repeats. “Magically delicious, you mean.”

Iris giggles. Phoenix sighs and says, “Sebastian, you’re in charge.”

Sebastian freezes, eyes wide and shoulders hunched, his hands twisting around each other. He wears different gloves now than he did earlier; these have the fingers missing, for whatever reason. “Mr Wright, are you sure?”

A witch against a yokai. Apollo doesn’t really know what witches can do, in the abstract, and he certainly doesn’t know what powers Sebastian has - or the when, why, how, of him becoming a witch - but Phoenix must. Enough to have an expectation. “I’m not asking - or suggesting - that you try and fight it singlehandedly, but I think you’d be a big help in keeping it distracted.”

Neither Sebastian’s face nor his posture suggests that he agrees with this assessment. “And, Iris?” Phoenix asks. She doesn’t look surprised, turns her eyes on Phoenix slowly and blinks, waiting. “I’m sure whatever Maya told you was about me, but I’m pretty sure I’d be a liability if I was trying to keep up with everyone else through the woods, and—” 

“Your back pain is and always has been because you sit like a gargoyle,” Iris says. “But you would like me to keep your children from being killed.”

“Well.” Phoenix runs his hand through his hair all the way down to rub the back of his neck. “I wasn’t going to phrase it exactly like that. Those two” - he gestures at Kay and Sebastian - “are Edgeworth’s, not mine.”

“What?” Kay asks. “Mr Edgeworth’s my other dad, but you’re my other other dad! Are you disowning me? Have I been disowned? Why can’t you both be my dads?” She grins. Apollo remembers the conversation he had with Klavier about a particular betting pool.

“I do believe it’s been decided on your behalf,” Iris says to Phoenix. “But, yes, I will make sure none of them come to harm. If—” She frowns, her eyes narrowing, and she rolls them up toward the center of her forehead, as though trying to see Jinxie’s charm still left there. She raises a hand to it and falters, her fingers an inch from the paper. 

“Right,” Phoenix says, and he reaches over and peels the charm off of her head. 

“You can’t take it off yourself?” Trucy asks.

“There would hardly be a point to such a charm if any monster can just remove the bindings from herself,” Iris says. “Perhaps we use that charm ourselves, slap it upon Tenma Taro when we find him.”

“Ooh! I volunteer for that!” Kay bounces up and down and snatches the charm from Phoenix’s hand when he holds it out to her. “I’ll sneak up on him and whack him with it! And then, Seb, you chase it out into the open where the Amazing Nine-Tails can wrestle it back to prison!”

“You should all take some more charms,” Jinxie says, grabbing Trucy’s hands and dealing the paper slips into her palm like a card dealer setting up a game. “Make sure as soon as you see something strange, hit it!” 

“That’s sound advice,” Athena says, nodding sagely.

“That could get you arrested,” Sebastian says.

Athena raises her eyebrows and grins at Apollo. He has to suppress a groan. Somehow, in the madness of everything after, he’d almost forgotten about Athena flinging a police officer through the air. Between that, manipulating information from Fulbright, and Sebastian and Kay being plenty friendly (no matter how Kay tried to pretend she wasn’t giving out information), she’s going to get a very strange idea of what she can get away with.

Iris eyes the pizza crusts that someone left behind in the box, but seeing Apollo watching her, she quickly turns her head away, lifting her chin to feign regal posture.

Tenma Taro is going to kill them all, no question.

Yugioh S2 Ep 44-45: Kaiba Hallucinates a Dead Woman and Then no One Talked About it???

So, for the record, I am writing a little bit to the future here because I did make a little bit of buffer. And this episode had a Hella Random Thing in it and I just want y’all to know I try to create an authentic reading experience--although it’s not like a blind riffing, I clearly watched each episode twice to make the caps and write all this stuff--and I do it one episode at a time so you get a somewhat close to a realistic live cap experience, but like, believe me when I say I did not see this coming.

At all.

At all.

And if any of you were watching this at home and saw this happening then you are lying OR you have been writing a very creative fanfic and this fever dream was also shared by that one guy on this writing staff who really really really stans Seto Kaiba. Lets dive into it, shall we?

Things start out pretty normal, as we are yet tucking another hospitalized person into Kaiba’s floating coma ward.

I’m starting to notice that this room also has sheets which just means when they got to Bakura, they just didn’t feel like tucking that nasty boy in. They looked at him covered in blood and grime and whatever other sweaty layers are all over Bakura and were like “None of us like Kaiba, but we don’t want to do that to his linens.”

And then the episode starts with Joey literally saying this

Now in the actual line of the show, Serenity stayed behind because she wanted to be strong for Mai, a lady she looked up to so much for all of 3 hours. She also said that her brother’s strength inspired her to have the courage to stay well below deck and whatever the hell nonsense was going on up there.

I mean courage is a word you could use to describe it, I would just call it common sense.

Also, look at this Christmas miracle.

I like that someone on the animation team was like “How else are they going to know that Mai isn’t wearing the disk? Draw it on the table. We have to.” and then bam there it is. That is one super random detail.

(more under the cut)

At the top of the blimp, they’ve decided to give Marik a little bit more space.

The Yuge crew must’ve looked at this situation and been all “I can stand next to Marik, or I can appear to root for Kaiba.” And they made their choice.

Below deck we get to see one of my favorite things, that’s right, it’s fake UI for TV shows.

these look like windows you pull up in Maya when you’re trying to find the right vertex or something. Maybe that’s what inspired all this? I dunno, it’s very silly that he would need the same image of a card twice, and that he would need one flipped and in wireframe. Especially since all they're doing is translating a language.

Or maybe he’s just been dogging Kaiba for half an hour before this episode started? Who knows, but honestly, I kinda have to side with Kaiba on this one, moving Mai would be a bad choice since there’s doctors--right there--but like...they should land the blimp though. Like the blimp with a murderer on it maybe needs to land at some point?

But never mind that, there’s cards to be played.

Or...not played.

It takes Ishizu so long to show up that Roland almost cancelled the game and I was so ready to not have to watch a card duel. I was so ready for that to be the canonical end of Ishizu but of course that didn’t happen.

PS, Marik is permanently glowing now.

Kaiba still doesn’t believe in magic and this guy has a constant third eye. So did Yugi all of last duel and Kaiba was just like “I don’t get your weird fashion” and tbh that’s a fair assumption to make.

To be fair, they probably only have once source of not cursed jewelry living underground, and it’s probably why their so matchy-matchy. Like, we all have that one Aunt (I was that one Aunt for a little while) with an Etsy shop and way too much inventory that they just give away to family every birthday and holiday. Judging by how much jewelry these two are wearing, their one Aunt isn’t doing so hot selling her merch.

Anyway, Marik’s good side makes an attempt to reach out and it doesn’t get him very far.

Honestly, when you look at it, there’s more people here from Kaiba’s extremely close school class than there is from the Ishtar family. And they don’t even know that Odion is also related. Sort of calling the kettle black here.

Again, ancient Egyptian Samurai with Yugioh cards would have been one hell of a spinoff with so many problems, where is that anime?

So, the game begins, between a mostly-neutral-antagonist and a protagonist who has done nothing but lock herself in her room in the dark for about 1/4 of a season. I have literally no idea who I’m supposed to be rooting for. Neither does anyone on the show.

Things went about as well as you’d expect dueling a psychic, because Kaiba has learned absolutely nothing from dueling Pegasus.

*Mokuba still has the whistle*

Anyway, because Ishizu can read the future, she knew she’d be going up against a dude who relies on very big strong dragons, so she straight up removed every strong card from his deck, leaving only six cards. 

It’s at this point that he only really has one option, to play a Blue Eyes White dragon, which he had in his hand still, or to play the God Card Obelisk which I think was still on field? Again I don’t pay too much attention to the duels but the big thing is that he’s gonna use Obelisk, so Ishizu cursed it so it would hella kill him.

Much like any of the God Cards have done thus far. The worst cards. These are the worst cards and at this point no one should want them anymore. But youknow, hubris.

This is all pretty run of the mill since every time Kaiba duels, he gets hella dunked on, but then...this happens out of absolutely no where.

WHAT?

SHOW.

The least dateable guy in Yugioh!? How is it Kaiba--a past version of him mind you--but a shirtless Kaiba who’s got some lady draped across his arms like he’s gotta model for the cover of a Harlequin romance novel for old ladies? Which...I can arrange that.

Why--out of all of these boys, was it this one that has something the most resembling a fully formed relationship? More so than Tristan, more so than Yugi, more so than whatever was going on with Joey last episode.

What!?

WHAT?

This came out of no where like a jump scare!

And like, here’s the thing, if Kaiba was your slice of pie from the weird ass hair dessert tray that is Yugioh’s selection of husbands, that’s fine. Ship away. But like, imagine with me here, you have a boyfriend--and if you don’t like boys that only adds to this experience--you have a boyfriend and he has the most normal hair of anyone you know, and that’s really great. But his voice ALWAYS sounds like he’s announcing an NBC cop drama. Like you’re eating dinner and he’s like “Can we watch the food channel?” like he’s solid snake.

You’d kill him. You’d kill him way before you end up dead draped across his arms in some weird flashback. You’d straight up kill him.

Sorry, I just made him a lot more attractive for half of you. Whatever, my plan backfired.

But, despite...how...he is, now Seto has one of the most tragic of all the relationships on this show, up there with Pegasus and his dead wife. And so like, I turned to my bro and was like “WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT WHAT JUST HAPPENED??”

Cuz this show that has very, very little dating in it. A show that has had no physical kissing unless you count that time Pegasus macked a ghost. A show where someone almost got married to someone they never dated in their life and they shrugged it off. A show that had Mai and Joey friendzoning the hell out of eachother rather than admit any sort of crush. A show where Tea and Yugi went on a date but then I guess forgot that happened 20 episodes ago and are now in permanent friend limbo. (Tea and Yugi so far having the most realistic dating experience tbh.)

This is just straight up here’s a picture of past Seto, and his dead wife is here too, no explanation! Have fun digesting that!

(wouldn’t have noticed they forgot to finish Yugi’s necklace if I hadn’t done the cap. hm. So fast I blinked and missed it until I wrote this copy.)

And like, I’m making it seem in these caps as if these characters talked about what I just witnessed in any degree and straight up they didn’t. Of course they didn’t. Kaiba didn’t want to discuss this crazy ass thing that happened. Just me. I am the only one that’s talking about this in 2019. Just me.

So I turn to my bro and was like “you have to tell me what just happened” and bro was like

“Sorry to disappoint you but...I’m pretty sure that dead girl never comes up again.” and then he kind of continued “I’m pretty sure Kaiba sacrificed his one true love in order to get his Blue Eyes.” and I realized “Bro, is this just a headcanon you made up? Are you telling me your spicy Seto Kaiba fanfic as if it’s true just like that one time you told me that Yugi’s Grandpa ate a guy in Egypt and I believed you for 30 episodes?” and bro was like “Mmmmmm It’s probably a headcanon. I’m pretty sure they dropped Kaiba’s dead girlfriend plotline completely off the face of the Earth. Like a LOT of plotlines from s2, Rach, don’t get attached.”

So, because Kaiba believes that his.......dragon.......told him to play a dragon, Kaiba sacrifices his Obelisk to play a dragon--thus removing the Obelisk curse.

So if it’s strongly suggested that Kaiba’s love for this dragon is youknow, an equivalent to the devotion you would have a for a dead wife you have cradled in your arms, then -- has Kaiba been dating this dragon the whole time? Is that what the show just seriously suggested to me with this juxtaposition? Because I am an illustrator and if I wanted to make someone look like they had an intense and complicated relationship with a playing card, that is how I would draw it. Just saying.

And like for serious, how is it that Yugioh keeps writing it’s own fanfic? Like, is this dragon infused with the spirit of his dead wife? Is that why his reincarnation has this weird fixation with the Blue Eyes White Dragon? OMG this is absolutely ridiculous, I can’t believe I’m considering that Kaiba was literally married to what is now his paper card of a dragon. Of which he has 3 of.

Clearly I am thinking way too much about this.

I mean to be fair, Kaiba did save Tea that one time. He also took out a helicopter and a crane at the same time but Tea was just fine.

Oh boy.

That was so freakin random. Well...I’m glad that Kaiba got back together with the dragon. They had sort of a breakup at the beginning of the season and now KaibaxDragon is back in full swing. Good for them.

This was the only guy smart enough not to play a God Card, PS. This guy. I guess if Seto fell in a plot coma the entire tourney would be essentially over, so...it had to happen this way.

But dead wife, amiright?

Here’s a link to read from S1 Ep1

And PS in case you don’t know about the Billionaires and Baby’s books that have--I swear to you, like 400 books in the series--please admire the billionaires and babies books. Never read them. But I like to spread the news of these completely insane and real book covers wherever I go.

Flowers (E.D)

A/N: I did not intend for this to become smut, but it did and what can you do. Haha, I got a little carried away. Also this is my first smut so please be kind.

Warnings: Smut, Mentions of death, Cussing

Word Count: 4k

The sunlight was warm on my back as I unlocked the shop door. It was just after seven in the morning on a particularly warm, Spring day. The scents of all the flowers hit me instantly with the roses being the strongest. The shop felt warm and inviting as it always had when it belonged to my mom. It had been so long since I last stepped into the store. Very few things had changed in the years I had been away. There was fresh pain on the walls and the floors had been redone. I noticed the register was still the same old, worn one I had played with as a little girl. I touched it lightly, smiling to myself as all those memories came flooding back.

Taking my time walking around the store, I made sure to turn on the lights when I heard the door chime.

“I’m sorry, we’re not open.” I called out.

“Sure you are.” A familiar voice replied. I turned my head to the door and grinned. My best friend of many years, Johanna, smiled back at me. She was gorgeous. Long, beautiful brunette hair fell over her tan shoulders. Her shining, green eyes twinkled with excitement.

“Johanna!” I ran towards her and she wrapped me up in her arms. I could feel the tears sliding down my face.

“Oh, y/n! I wasn’t sure you’d be back in town so soon. I’ve missed you so much. How are you holding up?” She pulled back to look me in the face. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and wiping away my tears, her face showing empathy, she hugged me tightly again.

“I miss her so much. I was on the first plane back when I found out. I’m still in shock and I’m honestly not sure what I’m doing here. I guess I just had to come back and see everything. You know this was always my favorite place to spend time with her. She was always happiest here.”

“I know. I think she would be happy to know you came back. I’m happy you came back.”

“I feel terrible for leaving.”

Johanna listened to me talk. Which was a nice change of pace. I was used to being the one doing all the listening and never having a voice. It was comforting knowing that even though I had left her behind, she still loved me and cared about me.

Leaving Cali wasn’t something I had wanted to do. My mom and dad divorced many years ago and I had always blamed myself. I always thought it was my fault that he decided to leave, until the day I discovered what was really going on. My mom was an avid drug user and it was ultimately what took her away from us. I left Cali once I had found out and was old enough to do so. I hadn’t spoken to either of my parents since I disappeared to a small town. Leaving at first was hard. Even though I tried getting my mother help, she wouldn’t take it. It’s so hard to watch someone you love slowly killing themselves. I couldn’t take it. I missed her a lot at first. Then it became easier, and soon I didn’t feel the pain anymore. I had always thought if I had been the one to walk away, it wouldn’t hurt so bad when she died. I was terribly wrong.

“So what are you thinking of doing with the shop?” Johanna asked.

“Probably sell it. I don’t know. I’m not really sure yet.”

“Why don’t you take it over? I started working here with your mom when you left. I could stay and work with you as well. This place brings in a lot of business. With a few more changes, you have the potential to make so much more money than you would by selling it.”

I thought about the idea of owning my own shop. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see what tomorrow brings I guess.”

//

Over the next few weeks I had cleaned out my mother’s home and managed her funeral. Without Johanna by my side I may not have been able to take care of any of it. Going through all of her personal things made the situation much more real for me. I was waiting for a couple to close on her house before I decided how to handle getting rid of the shop.

I continued to think about running the shop with Johanna. I could benefit greatly from it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be surrounded by so many things that made me think of mom every day. I let the idea linger in my head as I went to sleep.

//

Unlocking the shop door the next morning, I walked in feeling confident as ever. Making sure everything was up and running, I switched the sign on the door to open and called Johanna.

“Hello?” Her voice was groggy from just waking up.

“You’re late for work.”

“I don’t… Wait.. You’re serious?”

“You’ve got thirty minutes to get here or I’m going to have to let you go.” I laughed.

“I’ll be there in twenty!” The line went dead.

I set up the register and made some coffee before Johanna came running in. She tossed her bag in the backroom and threw on one of the two lime green aprons that were hanging on a hook by the backroom door. She brought the other to me, which I put on before throwing my hair up in a messy bun.

“I’m so glad you decided to keep the shop.” She smiled warmly at me.

“I thought it over, and I just can’t let it go.”

“Where are you staying?”

She poured two cups of coffee and handed me one.

“I got an apartment a block away. It’s a five minute walk from here, very convenient and cozy.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

We got to work arranging bouquets for display and cleaning up some of the mess my mom had left behind. Customers began coming in and it helped take my mind off the past couple of weeks. The hours started flying by as we worked to ensure that people were getting exactly what they wanted for their special occasions or for gestures of romance or thank you.

The door chime sounded as a guy came flying in and straight up to the counter. He slapped twenty dollars down and looked up at me.

“How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?” He was gorgeous. Dark brown hair and the must luscious hazel eyes I had ever seen. I felt like he was staring into my soul. He had a very strong, athletic build. His face was scrunched in anger and he was waiting for a response from me.

“Uh, well, you could do a bouquet of meadowsweet, which typically means uselessness. Maybe pair it with some orange lilies for hatred and foxglove for insincerity. You could also add in geraniums for stupidity. That’s a pretty strong combination.”

“Will twenty cover it?” His face softened.

“I can do it for twenty. Give me five minutes.” I walked to the cooler and began gathering the flowers I would need. He stayed by the counter watching intently as I began arranging them in the best way I possibly could.

“Would you like a ribbon, or do you prefer a zip tie?”

He laughed and I noticed the crinkles by his eyes. He was more handsome when he wasn’t scowling. His smile was brilliant and warm and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach began to stir.

“What you have now is perfect.” He gestured to the rubber bands on the counter.

I gathered the flowers and put a clear rubber band around the stems. Sliding his money back to him, I handed him the flowers and smiled.

“This one is on me.”

“No, I’m paying.” He slid the money back. I picked it up and folded it then leaned across the counter to tuck it in his shirt pocket.

“Have a nice day.” I gave him my biggest smile. He studied my face for a moment before returning my smile. He turned and walked towards the door, stopping only to grab a business card off one of our displays before exiting.

Johanna was helping an elderly couple but gave me a knowing look. I rolled my eyes at her and continued on to the next customer.

Johanna and I were closing up the shop and I couldn’t get the perfect stranger out of my head. It seemed like Johanna was thinking the same thing as me as she began asking me questions about him again.

“You didn’t get his name?”

“No! He asked for his flowers to say fuck you, why would I think that’s a good time to chat him up?” I laughed as we exited the shop together.

“Doesn’t matter what he wanted his flowers to say, you still should have asked. I would have asked.” She was leaning against the door frame as I locked the door.

“Well, if he ever comes back in, you can ask him for his name.”

Johanna smiled, “I will.” She walked to her car and I started my walk home. It was still fairly light outside, the sun just beginning to set. The sky was a mixture of beautiful oranges, purples, and pinks and it gave me a relaxing feeling as I continued my journey home.

//

The next couple of days went by quickly. The store was much busier than I had thought it would be and proved to be very demanding. I considering hiring a third person just to help keep up with the customers. There were so many things I had to take care of behind the scenes, such as inventory and ordering, that my head felt like it might explode. I locked myself in the backroom, filling out papers and sending in forms online, leaving Johanna to handle the floor herself. My eyes were beginning to burn from looking at the screen for so long. I rubbed my temples and let out a sigh. I wondered if this was the reason my mom had turned to drugs, if this was too much stress on her life. The thought of selling the store crossed my mind again.

There was a knock on the door, breaking me from my thoughts. I unlocked the door and cracked it open. Johanna opened it all the way.

“Are you going to hide back here all day? Or are you going to come talk to this cute guy who is milling around obviously waiting to see you?” She asked.

I peeked around her. The fuck you flower guy was back. “How long has he been here?”

“About fifteen minutes.” She shrugged. “I figured if he was patient enough to wait for more than ten minutes then I would come get you. You need to go talk to him. He’s been staring at the same display the whole time and honestly I feel awkward for him.”

I slapped Johanna’s shoulder as I pushed past her. I wasn’t sure if I should approach him directly or walk around and wait till he saw me. I fiddled with the front pocket on my apron before deciding to just approach him.

“Hi,” He turned around. “Can I help you with anything?”

His eyes brightened up at my appearance and I could feel my cheeks flush red. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a small smile. He brought one of his hands up out of his pocket to run through his hair.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the flowers the other day. They clearly conveyed my message perfectly.” The hand he had run through his hair was resting on the back of his neck making him appear shy.

“That’s what I do.” My heartbeat picked up as he took a step closer to me.

“I was hoping I could maybe take you out for dinner, you know, repay you for the flowers.”

My pulse quickened and I could feel my face getting hotter. “I don’t know anything about you, not even your name. Except the fact that you wanted fuck you flowers, how do I know you’re not going to take me to a fuck you restaurant?”

His laugh was deep. It was the kind of laugh that made you feel warm and safe on the inside.

“My name is Ethan. Ethan Dolan. And I promise I’ll only take you to a thank you dinner.”

He held his hand out for me to shake.

“My name is y/n. y/n y/l/n. And I think I’ll hold you to that promise.”  I gently grabbed his hand to shake, but he pulled my hand up towards his mouth and lightly kissed my knuckles. I felt an electric shock as his lips touched my skin.

“I’ll pick you up when you close?” Ethan asked.

I glanced down at what I was wearing. Jean shorts, spaghetti strap tank top under a racer back, graphic tank with the words ‘And So It Goes’ on the front, with my converse.

“Don’t worry about your outfit. It’s perfect.”

I blushed. “I’ll see you at closing then.”

I noticed he was still holding my hand in his as he slowly raised it to his mouth again, giving my knuckles another quick kiss, and shooting me a wink. I felt my breath catch in my throat.

Before I knew what to say or do, Ethan was already out the door and Johanna was grabbing my hand and pulling me to the back. “You have to tell me everything!”

I giggled but gently pulled back from her. “He asked me on a date. I’ll tell you the rest later; let’s get these customers out of here first!”

Johanna couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face before returning to the floor and helping the next guest. The rest of the day I felt like I was walking on clouds and couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Ethan was a blessing in disguise with everything that had happened. He was a breath of fresh air when my head had been under water too long.

I had just finished telling Johanna what was said as we walked towards the door to lock up for the night. She squealed out in joy. “I can’t wait to hear more! And look,” I glanced out the window. “He’s here!”

Johanna opened the door, letting herself out. She waved a quick goodbye to me and winked as she walked to her car. I locked the door and rolled my eyes at her, before turning to Ethan.

“Are you ready?” He held out his hand. I intertwined my fingers with his and he led me towards the pier on the beach.

He led me to a food stand on the pier and we grabbed a bunch of junk food before heading down to the beach. Ethan found us a place in the sand under the pier that we could talk in private while we ate.

“I wasn’t expecting junk food from a pier.” I laughed.

“I’m a simple guy.” He smirked before biting into his hot dog.

Ethan asked questions about me and I in turn asked about him. We discussed the reason I came back to Cali, and he told me about his dad. We had a lot in common in certain ways. We both were making lives for ourselves and working hard to achieve something, while dealing with loss and sickness in our families. I learned about his twin brother, Grayson, who was his best friend. I told him about Johanna and how she was a very passionate and kind soul. Before we both knew it, the sky had turned dark and there was no one left on the beach.

We were sitting in a comfortable silence, looking out over the ocean. He was leaning back on his hands with his legs splayed out in front of him, while I had my knees drawn up to my chest with my head resting on them. One after another the waves crashed against the shore. It was calming to have his company. It seemed like we were the only two people left in the world.

“You okay?” He asked, breaking the silence.

I turned back to look at him. He was now lying completely back with his hands folded behind his head. I lay back too, turning on my side to face him.

“Yeah, I am. Thank you. I’ve had a great time tonight. I really don’t want it to end.”

He turned his head towards me and studied my face. His gaze made me feel like he could read my thoughts. He had that way about him, like he already knew everything about you, but it was relaxing. I don’t remember feeling this secure around anyone.

“It doesn’t have to.”

“What?” I asked as he broke me from my thoughts.

“Tonight, it doesn’t have to end.” Now he was sitting up looking down at me. His eyes lingered on my lips before continuing up to my eyes. Once again, my pulse quickened. He leaned down, hovering over me, searching my face for any sign of discomfort.

“Ethan.” I breathed out.

“Tell me what you want.” His eyes now hooded, and he was biting his lower lip.

“Kiss me.” He leaned down and nuzzled his nose on my cheek, his lips by my ear.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

Before I could reply his lips were on mine meshing together in perfect sync. He ran his tongue along my bottom lip asking for entrance, which I eagerly granted. His tongue was soft, making the kiss much better. He knew exactly how to use it without it being too much. My head was swimming and I could hear my pulse in my ears as we continued to make out.

I had to break the kiss first, not being able to catch my breath; I turned my head to the side and exposed my neck for him. He didn’t need me to tell him what to do. He attached his lips to my pulse point and began to suck and nip at the skin. I let out a moan that encouraged him further. He began kissing down my collarbone before sitting back on his haunches to get confirmation from me.

Without saying a word, or breaking eye contact, I pulled off both my shirts leaving me in only my bra and shorts. His eyes grew darker with lust as he settled himself between my legs and leaned down to begin kissing at the top of my breast. I wrapped my hands in his hair and lifted my hips to grind against him. I could already feel his growing erection as her grinded back against me. His lips traced along my bra before he lifted my back slightly and unhooked it with one hand. Ethan pulled it off and stared down at my naked torso.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He smiled. I grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. He got the idea and quickly tugged his shirt off. His abdomen flexed showing off his six pack.

“Not as gorgeous as you.” I replied smiling. He smirked at me and I took the chance to roll him onto his back. I straddled his hips and leaned down to kiss him. He kissed me back with passion and want. I kissed down his neck and chest, watching his face as I made my way down his abdomen to his cargo shorts. I popped the button and unzipped them. He watched and waited patiently. The butterflies in my stomach were in turmoil as I pulled his shorts and boxers down. His cock sprang up and I wrapped my hand around it, slowly pumping him. He threw his head back and gasped as his mouth fell in a soft ‘o’ shape.

Glancing around the beach one last time, still no one in sight as it must now be two in the morning, I leaned down and wrapped my lips around him. Ethan’s hands immediately tangled in my hair as I looked up at him, sinking my mouth down around his thick cock. I pulled back off painfully slow, running my tongue along the underside before pulling him from my mouth with a pop. He groaned and pulled my hair making me moan as I took him back in my mouth. The vibrations made his cock twitch before he pulled me off.

“Not yet. I don’t want to cum yet.” He flipped us again so that I was on my back. He ripped my shorts and panties down my legs and I kicked them the rest of the way off. “So wet for me, baby.” He whispered, sliding his index finger along my pussy. He pulled his hand away and replaced it with his mouth, tongue attacking my clit. I moaned and involuntarily tried to clamp my legs around his head. He pushed my thighs apart and held them down as he continued his assault on my clit. I could feel my body shaking as my first orgasm was building up.

“Don’t stop!” I moaned out. He flicked his tongue faster. My toes curled and my whole body shook as my first orgasm washed over me. Ethan licked up every bit of my juices before sitting back and smiling down at me. His mouth glistened in the moonlight, and he leaned down and kissed me, letting me taste myself.

“You taste so fucking good y/n.” He said in between kisses. I felt his cock rub against my clit and my whole body jolted from sensitivity. “You okay?” He asked, pulling back with worry in his eyes.

“Perfect. Just please, Ethan.”

“Please, Ethan what?” He smiled devilishly.

“Please, Ethan, fuck me.” Before I could say anything else he lined up with my entrance and pushed in. I moaned loudly. He gave me only a minute to adjust before he started pulling his hips back and snapped them forward. “Oh, yes!” He thrusted his hips faster and faster as I clawed at his back and wrapped my legs around him trying to get him deeper. He pushed my shoulder back with one hand and lightly wrapped it around my throat. His other hand held my hip as he fucked into me. He grunted over me as he applied light pressure to my throat. I gasped as I felt my second orgasm coming. I could tell he was close too as his hips started to stutter.

“Come for me, y/n!” He moaned out. And I did. I clenched around him as I felt his seed begin to spill into me. My whole body was shaking and there were white spots in my vision. He released my throat, and slowly pulled out of me, both of us extremely sensitive.

“Oh my God.” I said, sitting up, and starting to feel all the sand in places it shouldn’t be.

“I know.” He panted back. “I know.”

“How am I supposed to walk home now?” I asked laughing, my legs feeling like complete jell-o.

His laugh filled the air. “I’ll give you a piggy back ride.”

“Deal, but only on one condition.”

“I’m giving you a piggy back ride and you’re giving me conditions?” He raised an eye brow pulling his shorts back on.

“Stay the night with me.”

He acted like he was thinking about it. “Hmm, I don’t know.”

I threw his shirt at him. “Asshole.”

“I’m kidding! Of course, I’ll stay the night.” He laughed again. Standing up and offering me his hand. I finished pulling my shirt back on and took his hand. He pulled me to my feet and I hopped on his back.

“Just point me in the right direction.”

As I told him which way to go, I couldn’t help but think that everything that happened recently, meeting Ethan, owning the shop, reuniting with Johanna, was somehow my mom apologizing for not being there. I said a silent thank you to her as we continued on our path, just passing the shop.

Johanna was going to lose her shit when I filled her in on tonight’s events in the morning.

REAL TALK: Competitive Food Business and Getting Started

The Covid-19 Pandemic has pushed many of us to start our own businesses, for some a side hustle and for others, an easy way to supplement financial uncertainties caused by the current circumstances. In the Philippines, a great deal of online food start-ups have managed to thrive and were able to expand themselves into physical shops and ongoing franchises, but sadly half of the total number has remained just a “start” with no visible end in mind.

I have been planning to write an entire article about starting a business in general and entitle it “How To Start A  Business From Your Own Home: A Step By Step Guide”. However, I have decided to focus on Food Business and tackle about the expanse of food industry, as majority of the inquiries I get specifically targets this trade. I have been in the Food Business since 2010 particularly in the pastry industry, starting from a small stall in a Food Bazaar in Ortigas. I was one of the young entrepreneurs who braved the waters of starting a business without any idea of what comes next. As a young chef straight out of college and culinary school, I had numerous fresh ideas. But the thing about this industry, your fresh idea will only remain “fresh” for at least a number of days. Soon, you will find better prototypes of your own idea from a different brand or worse, you will find someone using the same recipe you found on Google or YouTube, selling the same products as yours and your ideas just ends there. NOW YOU’RE STUCK…

HERE’S A FACT. Food Business is very easy and inexpensive to mock-up. Think of a recipe, buy the ingredients, and whip it up in the convenience of your own home kitchen, effortless, right? Send samples to friends and family, ask friends to like your online pages, easy market. But the clear question is… How long will it last? Is the business sustainable?

After my food bazaar stint, I have founded a start-up called The Royal Chimney Cakes and Pastries and what started as a passionate hobby, eventually became a lucrative source of income for me. From a mere online shop, selling cupcakes and crepes, I was able to expand into an actual Pastry Shop Café with a physical store. I was able to cater for a bigger market, targeting events like weddings, birthdays, debuts, and corporate functions. It was going well… but it wasn’t good enough to thrive. A lot of pastry shops offered the same services, targeted the same market, and even copied some of my originals. I guess, my “original” can only remain original once it is patented. THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS ORIGINAL IN THE FOOD BUSINESS. People can easily copy your recipe, add salt and sugar, and the recipe is theirs. No issues, whatsoever. It didn’t just happen to me and my shop. It is a vicious cycle in the industry that you should be aware of. Even bigger establishments deal with the same dilemma. Remember the Facebook or Instagram Ad you saw the last time saying they were the “first-ever- this-and-that-best-product”? Chances are… THEY ARE NOT.

A good example of this is the “Chocolate Dream Cake” in a metal canister trend two years ago. It became so popular that a lot of home-bakers decided to create their own version of it and sell it online. The same thing happened to “Custaroons“, because they became a craze, it was very easy to re-make them. Until, the original makers decided to patent their products. No one is allowed to use the names “Dream Cake” and “Custaroons” legally. Good choice, but not effective. People still make the same things, just in a different name, and a better version. Even if the product is virtually identical in the market, by just a mere change of one ingredient, people can claim it’s theirs. And unfortunately, potential customers tend to buy the cheaper version and not the original.

For this, I was done. I closed down my physical shop, but it doesn’t mean I was giving up. I still had one of my trusted bakers working from her own kitchen, delivering under my brand. The Royal Chimney was still there while I was away. It was waiting for an upgrade. I was not ready to close it down totally. I treated it as my baby, and my baby has to grow healthy.

I wanted to compete, and to be able to compete in this vast sea of like-minded entrepreneurs, I had to equip myself. Now, I am happy to write this article to be able to share to you what I learned from my mistakes. I hope I can help make things a little easier and less stressful for you by sharing my knowledge and experiences as you go through the birth-pains of starting a business. After two years in pastry and business school, I have now started my new business version 2.0 Sunday’s Cheesecakes.  I still keep The Royal Chimney as one of my flagship brands, as I already have a good number of returning customers there. I didn’t want to put that to waste. Re-introducing it as a smaller brand, focusing only to a few number of products was helpful for its growth.

While I start anew, imagine I am talking to you casually in a coffee shop (given this quarantine situation) and sharing my tips from everything I have learned from running my first ever stall business, failing to keep it afloat, trying again, online selling, managing my business pages, until now running a physical store.

What I want you to understand is that the Food Business is never glamorous. It is not for the faint-hearted. It will always be gruesome and toxic. You will find yourself in many sleepless nights. You might even become depressed of the pressure and ask yourself “Why did I even start doing this?”

Success is not an overnight process. It takes a lot of faith, hard work, patience, money, and consistent dedication. As a business owner, it is even worse than just working as an employee in the food industry. That’s if, you find yourself pushing through with your start-up business. I wrote an article about the difference of running a business and being an employee in the food industry, which can shed you some light. Read: When You Want To Enjoy The Holidays But You’re A Pastry Chef. Even if you have zero intention of committing to growing your food business, you might find some of these tips useful in your other endeavors.

However, with great passion and love for what you do… You will always find success in every little way possible. I can’t believe I just wrote a 9-paragraph Intro. I will not advise you to do the obvious things for your business like creating a proper and catchy business name for starters, taking good-looking photos of your products, or making yourself visible online. Pretty much, you have already done that. What I’m about to share to you is an entrepreneur’s view points and what you have to be aware of when starting a business. Let’s get you started with game-face on and the proper business mindset.

START WITH THE END IN MIND: BUSINESS PLANNING 101

A SOLID BUSINESS PLAN. “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” This is often overlooked by a new business owner, thinking that it’s very easy to sell online these days. “I’ll bake, I’ll cook, I’ll make these and that” and sell it online, not knowing what’s next. I was a victim of this mindset when I started my stall in the food bazaar. Here’s a background story.

I asked the bazaar organizer what was not in their bazaar. She said no one was selling crepes, so in an instant, I bought equipment to make crepes. I was the only one selling crepes that time, and I managed to pull it off for about two years with 3 stalls in different locations, operating in three different time slots. I was able to expand really fast from the sales I generated out of them. My bazaar stall operated from night time until wee hours of the following day. My two other stalls catered for corporate food courts, thus they follow office hours.

Sounds impressive, but guess what? It failed. Why? With no business plan and three stalls after, I didn’t know what to do next. I just got tired and sick of doing it, my staff were all dazed, and I had too many tasks on hand. I had to do marketing, I had to do my inventory, I had to organize my clients and contacts lists, and the duties just did not end there. It just kept on piling up as the business expanded. I had zero work-life balance. I was just exhausted. I didn’t know if I really wanted it and I got too overwhelmed with making it big. Do not make the same mistake as I did. Otherwise, you’ll end up sick, drained, broke, and completely confused.

WHAT DO YOU ENVISION? What is your niche? What are you planning to put on the menu? What are the possible products you might consider adding in the future? Business Plans can be very taxing to work on, but this is a very essential part of running a business. I learned it the hard way. What is in a business plan anyway that you have to spend time working on it? You can easily get access to business plan templates on Google, BUT in many instances it is not what you need. There are multiple types of business plans, but the important part is that it meets your requirements. A proper business plan entails THE FOUNDATION of your business down to your EXIT PLAN.

Sounds like a pessimistic piece of paper, right? We haven’t even started, why EXIT? This enables you to know what your next step would be, in case your business doesn’t run as smoothly as you expect. How do you deal with loss? Do you plan to sell your brand to a bigger and more established company? Do you plan to downsize it? In case the business triples its value, do you plan to expand to a bigger market or franchise your business? What are you investing on? Are you spending more than what you can handle? Who are your target market? What are the strengths and weaknesses of your business? What are the opportunities for you and possible outside threats?

Treat the business plan as if it is your skills assessment. What are your mission, vision, short-term and long-term goals? What can you offer to your market? How will you source out your finances? Where will you put your profits? What are your modes of payment? How do you establish your ordering system? Are you open for reselling? How do you handle resellers? In situations like a pandemic, how will you handle your cash-flow? What is your logistics plan? What is your marketing strategy? What are the papers, permits, licenses involved in starting your business? How much budget should you allot for paper works?

Your business plan should be able to answer all of these questions. If in time, while running the business and you experience a hiccup, go back to your business plan and check what needs to be adjusted. It’s not just a piece of paper. IT LITERALLY GUIDES YOU HOW YOU RUN YOUR BUSINESS.

RESEARCH: KNOW YOUR COMPETITORS AND YOUR MARKET

I am a very aggressive entrepreneur. My business partners know this well. If your pastry shop is visible online, most often than not, I have already scrutinized what you are selling. Sometimes, I even buy products from my competitors to know the quality of what I’m dealing with. If you have what I have on the menu, I will stalk you for a bit and research your market. Do we share the same market? If yes, then I have to come up with a better strategy to position my brand ahead of yours. Real Talk, No Bullsh*t.

When I was younger, I wanted to be able to offer what others cannot offer. Let’s use my crepe stalls as an example once again. When I asked the bazaar organizer what was not in the bazaar, I wanted to be the sole seller that offers what’s not there. I wanted to have what others did not have. Selling crepes, because others cannot simply make them. It requires skills and equipment. However, my success in the crepe-business did not last long. Even if I was the only one selling it, not a lot of people patronized it. I studied the foot-traffic of the bazaar. It caters to call-center agents working on the graveyard shift. The bazaar had shuttles in call-center offices to drive in traffic.

What was wrong with my business? Why do people not buy it? The answer was simple. I was competing with the wrong competitors and I was selling in the wrong market. The call-center agents were looking for something they could have for “dinner”. A rice meal, a complete package that is very convenient for them to have on a short period of their “break time”. Crepes are associated with dessert. They simply did not have time for dessert. My usual customers were trend-seekers, or families on a weekend shopping, and they were not constant bazaar goers. You will find them in high-end malls, ordering crepes while sipping on a cup of fancy tea. That was where I should be. I realized this when it was already too late. I have spent a lot already expanding my crepe business. It’s a very amateur mistake.

Nowadays, the competition begins with who gets the most likes on their online pages. Back in the days, who gets the longer queues wins the deal. Let me tell you this. If you are obsessed after Facebook Page likes and Instagram followers, then you are on the wrong business mindset. Getting exposure is very substantial, but the more important question is… Are they your market? Do they actually buy your products? Or are they just there for page likes?

REMEMBER: 4,000 “LIKERS” is never equal to 4,000 buyers. In this day and age, the number of followers and “likers” define your place in the industry and tells about your success. Though it can be a very efficient marketing tool, you may or may not be able to find your potential regular clients online.

Which leads me to the next important factor…

EFFECTIVE MARKETING AND BRANDING

I get it. Most of us did not major in Marketing. If you have no idea about Marketing at all, then it’s time to learn and educate yourself. Before the social media era, I had to resort to making x-deals with magazines, TV ads, and newspapers and handing out a lot of flyer print-outs. Those are the conventional methods you can still use, but here’s something I would like you to absorb.

WHAT IS THE MOST EFFECTIVE MARKETING TOOL?

Here’s a saying I go by every time I find myself in the middle of a marketing lag. FOCUS  ON THE QUALITY OF YOUR PRODUCTS, AND THE CUSTOMERS WILL LOOK FOR YOU. Not the other way around, you looking for customers. Let your products work for you and speak for itself. Quality versus Quantity. I would rather have five returning and regular clients, than ten clients who bought mediocrity with no chances of coming back. If you are after profitability through influencing customers, nothing is as powerful as word of mouth. It is a very compelling factor when making purchasing decisions, both in the internet world and outside of it. Remember, not everyone is on the Internet all the time.

Most people trust recommendations from their friends and their families when making a purchase. Thus, customer retention and recommendation is very important when building your brand. Make a good quality product and ask your customers for their experience. I would like you to take this “secret formula to success” by heart.

Excellent Products + Superb Customer Service = Regular Returning Clients (also known as ROI, Return on Investments)

Do not focus on your Page Likes. You can start a campaign like “Feedback Fridays” or “Leave a Reco” or a star system. Get people talking about your products. Customer interaction is key.

ONLINE PLATFORMS AND DIGITAL MARKETING

Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. I am pretty sure you found this article through one of my Social Media pages. Yey, me! My online pages work and they have reached you. Though I am telling you that the best marketing tool is word of mouth, entrepreneurs like us would have to adapt to the modern world. You might have the greatest products and ideas in the world, but if no one knows about it, your start-up business might end up struggling. INVEST ON MARKETING. But do not just focus on increasing your followers. Make your online visibility EFFECTIVE. I am sorry if you are not tech-savvy, I myself is not a tech guru, but do not fret. Most Social Media platforms are easy to navigate. If you have an Instagram Account or a Facebook Page, you might as well maximize it.

Browse around your pages and behold what it can do for you and your business. I would like to write these things in bullet form to make this easier for you.

Make a social media ad and target it to the right market (given you have already researched everything about your target market).

Set-up an instant reply tool to make it easier for you to get back to inquiries. This enables you to screen your potential buyers or simple inquirers. Most buyers make their transactions privately, thus sending you a private message and asking details about their orders. They will go after you if they are really interested with your products.

Set a budget for marketing ads.

Share your business ads to target groups.

Upload appealing photos, write a persuasive introduction, and boost them.

Create a business account on Instagram which allows you to post the same contents directly on your Facebook Pages. (You won’t have to post your contents twice. Connect your Instagram Account to your Facebook or Twitter Business Pages.)

Build a website and create a community out of it. This allows your return clients to create more buzz about your products and services that you offer.

Like what I have said. It is very easy to navigate around Social Media Platforms. But if you feel like these things are too demanding for you to do, you can always seek help from professionals. Nothing is wrong with working with the right people, who practically knows the ins and outs of Digital Marketing. Anvorte Corp. is a good example of Web Developers who can help you with this kind of Marketing Strategy. Their services often come with free consultations. I know, because this website is a productive result of what they can offer. 🙂

BRAND COLORS AND AESTHETICS

Your brand name and the materials you use to present yourself matters! Do not create a logo for the sake of just changing your boring business profile photo on Social Media. Believe me. The value of your business often starts with a very effective logo. The colors you use, your shapes, your features, your boxes, your stickers, your packaging, it all adds up to a complete customer experience. Every single detail of your branding has an impact on how your clients gauge your value. Your branding tells what sets you apart from your competition. On all occasions, customers notice these kind of details and it can MAKE or BREAK your sales.

Be consistent with your branding. If you choose certain colors for your brand, stick to it. If you want a rustic approach, show it on your ads. Show it on your packaging. If you market yourself as a dainty high-end brand, then walk the talk. Apply it on every little detail of your product.

ASSESS YOUR SKILL SET AND BUSINESS CAPABILITY

DO NOT BITE OFF MORE THAN YOU CAN CHEW. I cannot reiterate this enough. Attempting to do something more than you can handle is business suicide. Learn from my mistake. I have expanded my crepe business without any background and knowledge in managing a business. I thought I was in control, but it ended up as a failure.

Also, never promise anything to your customers without any idea and capability of accomplishing them. This will not only build strong doubt, but it can stain your credibility and integrity towards your clientele. “We will cross the bridge when we get there”, is a very bold quote (and a stupid one). We often say yes and dive to new opportunities without having a concrete plan. Always ask yourself, is it good for the long run? In reality, most new entrepreneurs decide to build a business with a certain goal… that is to make profits. But making profits is not attainable in a quick snap of a finger. Trying to do big things all at once to make profits will not only overwhelm you, but it will also make your business bleed into its slow death.

How do you know if your business is doing more than it can handle? Read this article 4 Signs That Your Business Has Bitten Off More Than It Can Chew.

My advice is, take it slowly and surely. Take baby steps and absorb each process through constant learning. Do not try to be jack-of-all-trades, understand that not everyone is your market. You are not everyone’s cup of tea. Focus on establishing a steady customer base before you expand your market and reach out to a bigger audience.

SURROUNDING YOURSELF WITH THE RIGHT PEOPLE

Today’s Social Media feeds will always be a reminder of what we can and cannot achieve. Do not let that limit you! While being friends with a lot of people, may or may not be able to drive traffic to your business, I would like to talk about your inner circle. Most often than not, the people we choose to hang out with and the people we choose to be a part of our circle has a great impact on our decision making, the way we perceive, and how we react to things.

The same goes with how we run our business. As we constantly strive to make it to success, some people tend to pull us down and distract us from attaining our full potential. “Crab-mentality” is quite pervasive when you decide to build a business. Do not let this stop you from achieving what you have envisioned. Seek for people who have the same goals as yours. According to Forbes, “Highly successful people are generally willing to share what it really takes to make things happen. They have the ability to help you learn from the mistakes they’ve made along the way and the “tricks and tips” to help you reach your goals faster. Seek out leaders of your field and get some real face time with them.” Look for a mentor, someone who has already clearly achieved their goals. Learn from their experiences and let them be your inspiration.

While being successful in business requires a lot of hard work (and sleepless nights), having the right people around greatly affects our mindset. Surround yourself with positive people, the goal-oriented, the visionaries, the hard workers, the learners. Seeing other people’s desire for success will keep you motivated to reach your goals. Surround yourself with people who will push you to become a better version of yourself. This will reflect on how you handle things while you run your start-up.

Also, do not be afraid to approach professionals. In building a business, you’re going to need some help to launch your start-up. You will need accountants, lawyers, financial advisors, web developers, designers, and of course your whole set of staff to complete your team. Even if you’re doing this business by yourself from your own home, I am pretty sure there is someone who is willing to support you all the way and lift you up when you feel discouraged. Your life path and mindset may change according to the connections you settle with. So choose your people wisely!

FINALLY…

Now that I have shared to you how I got myself started, it’s time to put it to test. These tips and factors may not be everything, but it can serve as a guide on how you will equip yourself. Do not be afraid to test the waters. I was once asked in a convention where I was a guest speaker for entrepreneurship, what would be my noteworthy advice for the new entrepreneurs who would like to venture and compete? My answer… You greatest competitor is yourself. Strive to be better a version from Day 0 until present. Furthermore, BE BRAVE. TAKE RISKS. NOTHING CAN EVER SUBSTITUTE EXPERIENCE.  

I would like you to expect the unexpected. Do not get discouraged if things do not run smoothly. You will face A LOT of setbacks. You will make mistakes and you will have to face tough decision-making. Sometimes, you will make wrong decisions, but that is OK. It’s part of it. You have to learn from your own mistakes for you to be able to handle what lies ahead. Just make sure your business goal is genuine. Make sure everything is legit, from registering your business name down to paying your taxes. As long as you’re doing it the right way, you will be just fine! Do not wait for the perfect timing, there’s no such thing. Sometimes, you just have to go for it! Life is too short to wonder what could have been. 🙂

BEST OF LUCK! I PRAY FOR YOUR SUCCESS! MAY WE ALL BE ABLE TO BOUNCE BACK TOGETHER!

  DO YOU PLAN TO RUN A START-UP?

DO YOU HAVE ANY TIPS FOR THE ENTREPRENEURS OF THE FUTURE?

DID YOU EXPERIENCE PROBLEMS WHILE RUNNING YOUR BUSINESS?

HOW DID YOU SOLVE THEM? WOULD YOU LIKE TO ASK OR SHARE ANYTHING?

I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU!

  REAL TALK: Competitive Food Business and Getting Started was originally published on WanderBitesByBobbie

Hey - Pat from StarterStory.com here with another interview.Today's interview is with Robin of Luna Wellness, a brand that sells weighted blanketSome stats:Product: Weighted BlanketRevenue/mo: $250,000Started: December 2017Location: New YorkFounders: 2Employees: 2Hello! Who are you and what business did you start?Hi! I’m Robin and I’m one of the co-founders of the Luna weighted blanket which uses the science of deep pressure stimulation to help sensory disorders, anxiety, stress and insomnia.What started out as a passion project in 2017 has now turned into a thriving business where we’ve already tripled our revenue from last year and are averaging $250K in revenue per month. We expect this number to increase 2-3X in the following months.imageWhat's your backstory and how did you come up with the idea?I’m a Dallas native and came up to the east coast to attend college at Cornell. I got my start in real estate/finance straight out of college, and am currently at a hedge fund in New York City (expected to quit this month).Being in this environment and industry resulted in anxiety in my daily life and began to affect my sleep quality to the point where I would wake up several times a night. I tried meditation, white noise machines, melatonin supplements, you name it.I was about to give up until I came across several studies on weighted blankets dating back to the 90s. There was an overwhelming amount of evidence pointing to the blanket’s effectiveness in reducing the participants levels of anxiety and improving their quality of sleep.I decided to give it a shot and for the first time in a few years I was not only able to fall asleep faster but also able to stay asleep throughout the night. Using it on the couch also made me feel more relaxed.I was hooked.It turns out more than a third of American adults are not getting enough sleep, 45 percent report lying awake at night and 3 out of 4 Americans report experiencing at least one stress symptoms.I never imagined myself doing a startup but the market statistics were so compelling, I had to take a shot (we’re a sleepless, stressed out nation). And so, I set on a mission to help people like me sleep better and feel better.Without giving Luna my full and undivided attention, especially in these early stages, I couldn’t maximize and tighten up all aspects of the business. This resulted in poor inventory planning, which meant not getting enough blankets to those in need (I would get tons of emails asking when certain sizes would be back in stock).So while working at a hedge fund has had its perks in terms of compensation, it lacks freedom and personal fulfillment, things I feel can be achieved by working for myself. And it’s a really heartwarming feeling when I get emails from customers saying how the weighted blanket has helped them overcome a serious issue.Having this in the back of my head has made the jump a little easier.Take us through the process of designing, prototyping, and manufacturing your first product.At the moment, the only available blankets were poorly stitched, had issues with breathability (would wake up in sweats), used noisy heat plastic beads and came at a steep price of $200-$300. So I sought out to create a higher quality weighted blanket at an affordable price so it would be possible for everyone to access its benefits.I first reached out to a family friend who had connections in the textile manufacturing industry and fortunately they were able to connect us to someone who could create weighted blankets. Since this was a relatively (and still is) new industry, there was no set blueprint on how to create a weighted blanket.So we took the existing designs on the market and broke down what they did right and what needed improvements. The biggest issues were distribution of weight (beads would bunch up in the corner of the squares), breathability, stitching and bead leakage.We went through several variations and ended up fixing these problems by developing a proprietary filling process where the beads would be woven into the fabric so no shifting would occur, using a cool fabric that wicks moisture away to redirect heat from your body, utilizing double stitching to increase durability and sewing 5 layers within the blanket to prevent leaking.imageimageEarly prototypesWe also created our weighted blankets using Oeko-Tex certified materials. This is an even higher designation than organic, and ensures that no harmful chemicals were used at any stage of the manufacturing process so customers can sleep easier knowing their products are free from not-so-pretty additives, such as formaldehyde (which is commonly used as a finishing in wrinkle-free or wrinkle-resistant bedding).The design process took us several months of trial and error, mostly because the shipping times from China to the US were pretty long. Before finalizing the order, we decided that it was important to visit the manufacturers in person and work in real time to come up with the perfect weighted blanket.My experience thus far in my career has made me a firm believer in in-person meetings, whichallows us to put a face to a nameunderstand the intricacies of how the business operates andshow your commitment.Emails and calls just doesn’t offer the same connection and Chinese suppliers want to build actual relationships. During our visit, they drove us for 2 hours to the factory and another 2 hours back to our hotel, gave us extensive tours of the facilities, introduced us to their CEO who decided to have an hour long chat with us on his own time and even offered to take us out to lunch. It just shows the difference we have in terms of business culture in the US vs China.imageimageOur manufacturing partner’s facilityDescribe the process of launching the business.When I got back from the China trip, we immediately put in a small order of about 500 blankets. We didn’t want to seek out any sort of outside financing just yet, so we used what we had saved up (definitely glad I saved!) We decided that we would start Luna exclusively on Amazon as that seemed to be the fastest way to enter the market. Once we gained enough traction and sales through Amazon we would launch our own website.What’s so amazing about Amazon is the relative ease of bringing a product to the mass market. Storage, fulfillment, returns, and payment processing are handled by Amazon (with a price of course).With these processes already streamlined through Amazon, we spent the bulk of our time focusing on 2 major points, optimizing our listing, (solid SEO descriptions, high quality informational style photos, competitive pricing, customer reviews etc) and managing advertising campaigns on Amazon.At that time, the landscape of the weighted blanket market on Amazon was predominantly made up of Chinese sellers with lackluster listings coupled with broken English and cookie cutter product and lifestyle images.As an American based brand, we saw this as one of the biggest ways we would differentiate Luna.imageCompetitor photo taken from listingWhen our product arrived from China, the weighted blanket craze was in full effect and sales skyrocketed.We complimented this craze through emailing press outlets / bloggers who had already covered weighted blankets and this got us picked up by Healthline, Mens Journal, Man Repeller, Real Simple, POPSUGAR, Yahoo and more. NOTE: We probably emailed over 400 journalists and got a response from less than 10.We found out that if you have something that’s breaking news (groundbreaking invention) you should take that "breaking news" angle with the Entrepreneur, Inc, Fast Co, Forbes types of publications because they'll want to know how you got funded and they'll be more interested in the story of the entrepreneur behind the product.But when you’re pitching lifestyle publications (the ones that reach your target market), you need to really think about what’s in it for the audience and what will make their readers actually click on your story.JOURNALIST TEMPLATE(We tried using a subject line that would draw in the journalist while being relatable to our product. They get thousands of emails a day from people pitching their product so keep it short, relatable and interesting)Subject: Do you have issues sleeping?Subject: When was the last time you were super stressed out?Hi name,interesting fact about person or article etc (Wanted to run this by you and see if it'd be of interest since you're insert subject they’re writing about and how it connects with your product or story.)I’m the creator of (product), and can offer you a quote for an article on the following:Ex: ways to beat insomnia naturallyThis is where you can offer additional ideas for topicsMy advice would be perfect for your audience because I’m (list your expertise/background). (Quick 1-2 sentence about your story or product. KEEP IT SHORT AND INTERESTING!)You can learn more about us here ( link to website ).Will you be covering any (industry/product) stories anytime soon? If so, let me know. I’m also happy to send you a sample for you to try.Appreciate your time!Best,(Name)PS - With (holiday/event/topical thing) around the corner, I know a story relating to (product) would be a hit for your audience.Since launch, what has worked to attract and retain customers?Since launching, Amazon is still our main source of revenue. The majority of our marketing spends goes into Amazon ads where we structure our campaigns into three categories (Automatic, Research and High-performing).When launching a new product, we’ll start off with an automatic campaign to source potential keywords. We started off with a budget of $30 a day and we’ll run this campaign. After this period of time, we’ll take the best performing keywords that have a CTR greater than 6% and an ACOS (adspend / sales attributed to that ad) that’s lower than our product margin and put them into our research campaign.These keywords will be added as a broad search term in order to generate additional long tail keywords and this process helps us narrow down the winning keywords. These are then put into the “High-performing” campaign that contains our best performing keywords.Since launching Luna, we have received an overwhelming amount of warm and heartfelt emails from buyers letting us know how much they love our product and how it has changed their and their loved ones sleep quality. Buyers that suffered tragedies, suffer from an array of anxiety and depression issues have reached out to us letting us know how the Luna blanket has helped them. These emails are single handedly the most rewarding part of Luna.How are you doing today and what does the future look like?We started out with small orders of about $10,000 leaving us with 25% margin, but over the course of these 2 years, we have developed a strong relationship with our manufacturer and upped our order quantity by 10x. Today, we’re seeing close to 40% margins.Believe it or not, we’re still trying to catch up with the demand on Amazon, and are consistently placing much larger orders compared to our previous ones. To accommodate these orders, we’ve turned to financing companies like Kickpay and Clearbanc due to a 2 week lag in the payout schedule on Amazon (and for new sellers they hold a 2 week rolling reserve) which can really hurt a business’s cash flow. That being said, we have plans to launch more blanket sizes as well as additional sleep related products (pillows, regular comforters, mattresses) to expand our product into a brand not just solely focused on Amazon.We only run Amazon sponsored product and brand ads and that currently is about 10% of our monthly revenue. We find product / category targeting as well as retargeting ads to be very expensive. If you have access to AMS (Amazon Marketing Services) I would suggest testing out product display ads as that’s been one of our ads with the lowest ACoS (Advertising cost of sales: Cost spent on ads / sales generated from ads).Our current breakdown of sales is about 90% from Amazon and 10% from our website, and plan on driving more traffic to our website via Google, FB, IG ads, influencers and partnerships with complementary brands. We’re in talks with a subscription box that is doing a dedicated box for sleep and we’re really excited to see that go live!Through starting the business, have you learned anything particularly helpful or advantageous?With Luna, the biggest takeaway that we had was the importance of inventory planning and management. It is absolutely a delicate line between ordering too much or too little, and when manufacturing in and shipping from China, there are a lot of issues that you need to take into account when planning lead times. Through trial and error (like missing out on the holiday season...ouch!) we learned to balance our orders and plan out logistically the best process for us. There’s a period of time (usually Q4) when freight costs and amazon storage fees will increase substantially so it’s smart to factor that into your inventory planning. Print out a schedule of Chinese holidays in order to anticipate any delays to your manufacturing schedule as there’s a lot you may not be aware of (Dragon Boat Festival, Tomb Sweeping Festival).Be wary of Chinese manufacturers and keep constant communication. A lot of the time, their best customers are domestic and they’re placing larger quantity orders. This is the reality and the factories revolve around their Chinese customers. When that happens, they may try to improve things or domestic customers might want to change something on their mold or circuits and they’ll go ahead and do that without consulting you first. This can really screws things up when we develop our packaging or product copy. For example, one time our manufacturer changed the size of our packaging without telling us and this place us in an “Oversize” category on Amazon which meant higher fees. So always be on your toes.You get what you pay for. These factories have to turn a profit so don’t squeeze them till the last drop because they will start cutting corners. We visited 10 other manufacturers before settling on ours and were extremely tempted in selecting them solely based on price and because their samples looked great (in retrospect, all the premade samples looked great because they could create them to the highest standard). We realized just looking at samples wouldn’t reflect the true quality of the product so we asked for some of the brands they manufactured and did test orders. As expected, the test orders that we received ended up being really low quality and we learned our lesson.imageTest order from low cost manufacturerTell the factory you are sending an inspector during production. Even if you aren’t, they’ll be producing to the standard where they’re expecting an inspector to come and check out the products. It’s also EXTREMELY important to count the quantity that’s actually shipping out. If your commercial invoice & packing list list 500 cartons, you better make sure that you’re sending 500 cartons to the US. Not 499, not 501, 500.Any shortage or overage will require you to file something called a Manifest Discrepancy Report to re-declare your goods so they can be released. This report takes 7-10 business days (but one time took up to 30 days for us) and failure to do so can result in penalties or seizure of your goods. Our first supplier sent about 6/8 shipments where there was a count discrepancy causing significant delays and lost sales (we called it quits after the 8th shipment). COUNT YOUR GOODS!What platform/tools do you use for your business?Since currently there are only 2 of us at Luna, we look toward outside platforms to plan inventory, process payments, and fulfill our goods. Inventory Planner has been a great tool in ensuring we don’t miss out on the holiday season rush!Shopify, Flexport, Kickpay, and Quickbooks are all easy to use and relatively inexpensive tools to consider if you are a small business.What have been the most influential books, podcasts, or other resources?Shoe Dog by Phil Knight. If you’re still on the fence about starting your own business, pick this book up and it will rock your world.Advice for other entrepreneurs who want to get started or are just starting out?Make sure you create a product that customers NEED and has SUSTAINABLE, HEALTHY margins so you can compete with your competitors. If you can’t meet these two criteria, then find another product, there’s tons out there.Are you looking to hire for certain positions right now?While Luna is still a young company, it is growing at an exponential rate and we definitely see bringing on strategic hires in the next couple years specifically in the design & digital marketing fields.Where can we go to learn more?Instagram: www.instagram.com/luEmail: [email protected] you have any questions or comments, drop a comment below!Liked this text interview? Check out the full interview with photos, tools, books, and other data.For more interviews, check out r/starter_story - I post new stories there daily.Interested in sharing your own story? Send me a PM

Hey - Pat from Starter Story here with another interview.Today's interview is a little bit different.I interviewed Allen Chiang of Retro Radio Farm, a brand that makes old-school radios a while back here on reddit.He was featured on CNN as well.Allen runs this whole business on the side, on top of having a full-time job and full-time family.I had him sit down and write about how he does it. Hope you enjoy:My name is Allen Chiang. My wife Kea and I are the team behind Retro Radio Farm which was featured on Starter Story where we talk about we came up with our business concept. Retro Radio Farm sells, repairs, restores antique radios and upgrades old radios with Bluetooth MP3 or smart speaker technology.Our side hustle is a constant struggle between rewards and sacrifices that go beyond just monetary considerations. We wanted to write this piece to focus on these challenges in our side hustle venture.Quitting my day job to focus 100% on our side hustle comes up occasionally but we have decided it’s not quite time yet. My side hustle would need to be an order of magnitude more profitable to supplant my career income. It is our goal for Retro Radio Farm to grow and exceed our expectations so I can quit my day job.On another note, we reported in our first article approximately $50K per year but that was based on 2017 numbers. This year, we have already exceeded that. With the busiest 3 months ahead of us, we project $75K this year, a 50% year over year growth.My scheduleWeekdaysI wake up at 6:00AM Monday through Friday to go to work. I commute about an hour each way by car. When I get to the office, it’s usually pretty busy. I do not spend time at the office on Retro Radio Farm. I get off work about 5PM every day. I’m still thinking about work on my drive home. Sometimes, I take calls, have meetings, after normal work hours.My wife has her hands full all day with two young children.WeekendsI’m usually up by 6:00AM and I’m down in the workshop before everyone wakes up. This is my radio time. I work on radios until about 5PM. More on this later.We have a daughter who is 9 years old and a son who is 8. I volunteer as a Cub Scout Den leader which requires one weekend afternoon about 2 times a month plus committee meetings and scout projects, 1-2 per month. Plus, there are kids playdates and birthday parties, other family events.As another hobby, I’ve been restoring old cars for longer than old radios. I have two classics that I’m actively working on.We live on a heavily wooded site with a house and property needing regular maintenance and repairs. We hire out major repairs but we perform small maintenance jobs ourselves. We have a rental property about an hour away that requires occasional attention.Other than that, I have nothing else to do on weekends except radios!How to balance full time and the side hustleWhen I first started doing radios, there was no set schedule or objectives. I would work on them once in a while, and sell whenever I got tired of one, or when I bought a new one.Making time for familyWeekends back then centered primarily around family outings. I worked on car and house projects around the house. We went out for meals, a movie, trail, or community or friend event if the whim struck us.Back then, I was chastised by my wife if I spent more than 3-4 hours straight working on radios. My children would come by my workbench and ask me to play with them. My reply was always “yes.”Squeezing in some time at nightSince a large part of our online business was the online part, I spent an hour or so after dinner on weekdays posting radios on my site, responding to inquiries, fulfilling orders, and maintaining my website and monitoring SEO advertising.I did all this on the living room couch while my family was watching TV. This more administrative or operational part of my business did not need to be done at my work bench or in the home office. I could be, at least physically, present with my family.Finding time as the business grewAs the business grew, weekends became more and more constrained.I would spend all day on Saturdays repairing radios. SEO marketing responsibilities became unmanageable for me. My wife started taking on more of an active role in order fulfillment, photography, posting, and crucially, SEO marketing.I generally reserve Sundays for family time, although cars, house and auto maintenance, now recently treehouse construction, sometimes cannibalize.As our business has grown, I am being forced to dedicate more time on production only, that is, producing restored radios for new inventory. Customer repairs, when someone sends me their radio for repair, and Bluetooth MP3 upgrades with new purchase orders, PR like this article, is now relegated to weeknights.My wife is now performing almost all the operational responsibilities during her day. Her role is now growing even more with the upcoming revamping of our website. Radio production all day Saturday is now a given, and encroaching on Sunday.Saturday DaddyMy children now know that on Saturday Daddy will not be available to play with them. Maybe Sunday, if there is not a critical house or car chore that supersedes. As a family, we have learned to plan in advance and make the time count when I’m free.My wife and I are constantly weighing the value of my time spent on the radio business versus family. The children weigh in too. When we see real disappointment on my children’s faces, radios are postponed.My wife, who initially saw radios as my hobby only, and a waste of time, has come around to be a supporter and partner. The increased income has allowed us to prioritize differently around higher quality and more luxurious experiences than otherwise.Any side hustle takes sacrifices to become successful. Any sacrifices you make should be rewarded. If the rewards outweigh the sacrifices then it was worth it. We try to keep a broad view of what is being sacrificed as well as the real reward.ProductivityMy available free time allocated for the side hustle venture has not increased over the years.Weekends are still only 48 hours and weeknights 1-2 hours tops. To achieve as much as I’m producing now would have been unthinkable when I first started. I have become more efficient with my production while my quality of output has improved.For example, I will need to step up production even further for the upcoming holiday season if we are to meet our revenue goals.This means I will need to buy smarter, work more efficiently, stop wrestling with hard radios that have taken too much of my time so that I can move on to the easier radios. I am adding production steps to ensure better quality which ultimately increases the bottom line. I have set a quota for myself in terms of quantity of product and value of work spent for my weekend efforts. I reason to myself, that once I reach my quota, I can spend the rest of the day with my family.What I Have LearnedOptimize for profitable outputKnowing what to buy translates into more profitable output. Some radios are great condition but too expensive. Inexpensive but restorable radios can be much more profitable.Knowing what radio models appeal to the market at what price helps transform initial investment into immediate profitability. You need to have a passion for the product in order to maintain the edge in sourcing.Constantly adapt and rebalanceYou need to constantly adapt and rebalance to meet the opportunity at hand whether it’s family, side-hustle, or other is always a challenge. Sometimes I get burned on radios week after week. I revert back to cars or house or family, then I go back to radios feeling refreshed. My side hustle needs to be relaxing to me.My professional career is still the number one priorityI cannot risk letting the side hustle impact my bread and butter at this point.Always have inventoryQuestion of scale. Drives how much time I commit to radios. For example, if I want to sell a 1 radio per day, I need at least 60 on the site. Need to maintain critical mass of stock to attain sales objectives.Having all my tools and parts at my fingertipsI have to make sure all my raw materials needed for production are constantly replenished. Not having the right parts or tools within reach really wastes time.Becoming an expert on resourcing parts and equipping yourself the right tools inexpensively.Become an expert on your business dataEspecially your website and social platform statistics.Mine the numbers; SEO campaigns, email marketing blasts, Pinterest, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube Instagram followers, likes, click through, cost per click, marketing cost per unit sold, average days holding inventory.The price of your time spent on your side hustle per hour. What am I earning on my side hustle per minute per hour?Getting the support from spouse and kidsI couldn’t stand to be downstairs if my wife and kids are upset with me upstairs. My wife’s support and help with operations has enabled me to focus on production.Her work on SEO, fulfillment, administrative, and website has helped grow our business 50% this year. My wife keeping the kids busy on Saturdays helps alleviate conflicting priorities.Time is preciousThis may be obvious but I’ll say it anyway. Time is precious.In order to grow my side hustle, I need to work quicker, more efficiently, towards more valuable outputs with the time I have outside work.Having great creative and a good storyGood photos are key. Constantly trying to improve. Good enough is never good enough.Same with writing. Bad grammar, misspellings, poor quality writing means lost sales. Be explicit. I don’t assume customer knows anything about my product and service unless I state it explicitly.And lastly, keeping Sunday free as much as possible!My advice for othersIt took a random visit to a flea market many years ago for me to discover old radios as a hobby now my side hustle.I was not an antiquer or retro guy before that. I had to remove myself from my accustomed environment, people, activities, frame of mind, to try something new to get exposed to a new opportunity.If I had done what I’d always done, gone to where I’ve always gone, been with same people, I may not have ever discovered my side hustle.Our side hustle is a commitment with sacrifices but it has paid off monetarily and made us both feel self-empowered, better skilled, and has enriched everything else in our lives!Thanks for reading!Check out the full interview with photos.