Daytona beach shores vacation rentals

Hi there, I'm from New York but recently moved to the Daytona Beach, Florida area. I'm looking to make some new friends.
So a bit about me I guess: I like to play video games. I play on switch and PC. I'm willing to expand my games library so hit me with some suggestions! I also can stream games too.
I like to watch movies in particular horror movies caude I find them hilarious. I also love Star wars!
I'm always trying new things and expanding my hobbies but I'm super into technology, guitars, the outdoors and a bunch of other stuff.
Please be 18 years old at least if you're going to message me. No children!

Kalli, Djeri, Haavar, and Alik, had met once again. Each of the four siblings had become a chief, and each had reconvened once again at the Undying Morekah for the monsoon festival. And, once again, they were guzzling hanyil in amounts others could not dream of owning.
Being the scions of an esteemed family had its perks.
In their bowls of hanyil, they got to talking and planning and scheming as siblings often did. Djaso formed the beloved base of each of their prows, but the tops of those very prows were starting to seem a bit bare by comparison. Not everyone could be the founder of a prosperous Morekah. They still trawled the sea (not like their Sasnak-ra cousin Edin, who was to be the Mareh) but they couldn’t allow themselves to be outdone by a long-since-eaten corpse! But perhaps that corpse had the right idea…
The Sasnak knew that the yellowfin and the black crabeater migrated north during the fall months and returned in the spring (hence the Tonyak month names of Keritis, fish-return-to-the-mouth, and Gosanyera, fish-pass-the-great-island). And many times, Kalli and Haavar had joined forces to follow them north, taking a whale or two a month while also making trades with the Shasak and beyond. They had never followed the fish all the way north. Typically, they would return before the winter set in and they got a chill, and so that they could make more trading expeditions. If they joined forces though, they would have no issues sailing north. And they had heard stories of the errant Shasak who went north. Perhaps they should investigate!
And so they did. They spoke with their cousin Edin, and let the other chiefs know of their plan. And when the month finally turn to be the right time, they set sail north. They rounded the furthest tip of the Akinimod peninsula, stopping at various villages along the way, making good time in good weather. Whales were harpooned, excess was had, Shasak with their great mounds were traded with (and plundered occasionally). Life was good, and yellowfin and black crabeater was plentiful.
But that’s when things started to get strange.
As they followed the coasts, crab-claws in hand to mark the locations and paths and measure the distance of the stars, they looked to their right. The trees of their home were thinning out. The jungle gave way to endless dry shore – only scrub brush to break it up. They went ashore to reconnoiter the area now and again, and occasionally found forests here and there, but it was very much unlike what they had seen back home. Bizarre animals now and again, environs quite unlike any they had experienced. Plants like they had never seen! Gone were the cypress and mangrove trees of their home, as were the colonies of sugarcane and the occasional gator. Replaced, they were, with flowers and trees they had never seen nor heard of. It was odd, to say the least, and more infuriatingly not something one put on a prow!
Eventually, what they found as the months wore on was even more surprising.
The four of them were on the beach, their grand undying flotilla moored, and their hanyil had long since depleted, as has the sugarcane juice to make more. It was miserable. Miserably sober. But then they heard shouting. Well, more like wailing. They stood up from their shoreside camp, and looked to where the wailing was coming from. And out of the distance came...

Eight weeks ago we were in Cozumel, and I took a snorkel tour on a boat that included divers. While on the surface looking at the divers at the bottom, I told myself "I want to be down there." When back on shore I signed up for Discover Scuba and over the next two days took four dives. Magical - it was like being a kid again (I'm 62). I would have done more, but we moved on from Iberostar for a couple of nights in San Miguel.
Fast forward to last weekend, I did my four OW dives at San Carlos Beach in Monterey. The first three dives went as expected, no issues aside from a bit of anxiety ahead of the first dive, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that with a 7mil suit, hooded vest, booties and gloves, I was warmer than almost all my days skiing and (winter) mountain biking. In fact my feet are colder now sitting on the couch than they were in 53F waters.
On the fourth checkout dive, I got to plan and lead the dive for myself and my buddy, to be shadowed by the instructor, who otherwise left us to our own devices. Plan was to swim out to a float, pick a bearing, descend and follow the bearing into the dark and murky kelp forest for 15 minutes or until one of us was down to 2k psi, take a reciprocal bearing back to (more or less) our starting point and ascend. While I wish we'd spent more time pausing to check stuff out as we went along, the point of the dive was to slalom through the forest with its modest surge on the selected bearing (easy to get pointed in the wrong direction!) until time/air told us to turn around, and make our way back to ascend where we started. When we ascended, we were 20 feet from the float we dropped down from.
All in all it was an extremely satisfying and confidence-building experience. I'm glad I decided to take on the challenging, chilly, and murky waters of NorCal. Trudging down stairs, across the sand, and into the surf, wrestling your fins on in the swell, and surface swimming out to the dive site, is a lot more work than simply falling off a boat! I can't wait to do it again!
I'm looking forward to going back to Cozumel, though we tend to hit Hawaii at least once a year, and I have a friend in Vanuatu who'll be working out of Palau for a while ... my best friend of 50 years, basically my brother, who's been diving since high school and wonders why the fuck I didn't start diving years ago. We're excited to dive next we meet whether it be here in NorCal, or somewhere in the SP, or maybe some place our hydrophobic wives will be willing to spend a vacation.
In the meantime, I'm hoping to get underwater at least once a month, and to that end I have most of my regulator kit (just need to decide what spg/console setup works for me), plan on getting a BCD next, and renting exposure suits as water temps dictate. I'm hooked, my wife says I'm not just certified, but certifiable.
I'm seeing the sport as an opportunistic one: wherever you travel, if you can dive there, go for it! And unlike my other two passions, skiing and mountain biking, I can see myself doing this until I'm infirm, at which point I just as soon be dead :p
Cheers!

When I was brand new to NovelAi I had no idea how 2048 tokens really looked as text. So for anyone looking at the tiers, trying to decide how many tokens they want for Clio with the new update, I've tokenized Part of The Great Gatsby by Scott Fitzgerald (public domain since 2021).
That way new users can more easily visualize what the AI's maximum context is for each tier. According to the UI Clio uses the NerdStash Tokenizer, as different tokenizers will convert text to tokens their own way.
------------------------
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
“Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgements, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on today.
I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe—so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.
The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog—at least I had him for a few days until he ran away—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.
It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.
“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly.
I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighbourhood.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
There was so much to read, for one thing, and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities, and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the Yale News—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.
It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York—and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual wonder to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more interesting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.
I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbour’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month.
Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed, and I’d known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.
Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savours of anticlimax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d left Chicago and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance, he’d brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that.
Why they came East I don’t know. They had spent a year in France for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe it—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.
And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion, overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran towards the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sundials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.
He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty, with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.
His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts.
“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We were in the same senior society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.
We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.
“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.
Turning me around by one arm, he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep, pungent roses, and a snub-nosed motorboat that bumped the tide offshore.
“It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.” He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.”
We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-coloured space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling, and then rippled over the wine-coloured rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.
The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white, and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room, and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor.
The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless, and with her chin raised a little, as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in.
The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room.
“I’m p-paralysed with happiness.”
She
------------------------
[Tablet: 3072 Tokens ]
------------------------
laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)
At any rate, Miss Baker’s lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly, and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.
I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.
I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way East, and how a dozen people had sent their love through me.
“Do they miss me?” she cried ecstatically.
“The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath, and there’s a persistent wail all night along the north shore.”
“How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. Tomorrow!” Then she added irrelevantly: “You ought to see the baby.”
“I’d like to.”
“She’s asleep. She’s three years old. Haven’t you ever seen her?”
“Never.”
“Well, you ought to see her. She’s—”
Tom Buchanan, who had been hovering restlessly about the room, stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.
“What you doing, Nick?”
“I’m a bond man.”
“Who with?”
I told him.
“Never heard of them,” he remarked decisively.
This annoyed me.
“You will,” I answered shortly. “You will if you stay in the East.”
“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more. “I’d be a God damned fool to live anywhere else.”
At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely!” with such suddenness that I started—it was the first word she had uttered since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room.
“I’m stiff,” she complained, “I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.”
“Don’t look at me,” Daisy retorted, “I’ve been trying to get you to New York all afternoon.”
“No, thanks,” said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry. “I’m absolutely in training.”
Her host looked at her incredulously.
“You are!” He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. “How you ever get anything done is beyond me.”
I looked at Miss Baker, wondering what it was she “got done.” I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before.
“You live in West Egg,” she remarked contemptuously. “I know somebody there.”
“I don’t know a single—”
“You must know Gatsby.”
“Gatsby?” demanded Daisy. “What Gatsby?”
Before I could reply that he was my neighbour dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine, Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.
Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips, the two young women preceded us out on to a rosy-coloured porch, open toward the sunset, where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind.
“Why candles?” objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.” She looked at us all radiantly. “Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”
“We ought to plan something,” yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.
“All right,” said Daisy. “What’ll we plan?” She turned to me helplessly: “What do people plan?”
Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger.
“Look!” she complained; “I hurt it.”
We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue.
“You did it, Tom,” she said accusingly. “I know you didn’t mean to, but you did do it. That’s what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great, big, hulking physical specimen of a—”
“I hate that word ‘hulking,’ ” objected Tom crossly, “even in kidding.”
“Hulking,” insisted Daisy.
Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West, where an evening was hurried from phase to phase towards its close, in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself.
“You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy,” I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. “Can’t you talk about crops or something?”
I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in an unexpected way.
“Civilization’s going to pieces,” broke out Tom violently. “I’ve gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read The Rise of the Coloured Empires by this man Goddard?”
“Why, no,” I answered, rather surprised by his tone.
“Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.”
“Tom’s getting very profound,” said Daisy, with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. “He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we—”
“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. “This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things.”
“We’ve got to beat them down,” whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun.
“You ought to live in California—” began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.
“This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and—” After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod, and she winked at me again. “—And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art, and all that. Do you see?”
There was something pathetic in his concentration, as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned towards me.
“I’ll tell you a family secret,” she whispered enthusiastically. “It’s about the butler’s nose. Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?”
“That’s why I came over tonight.”
“Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night, until finally it began to affect his nose—”
“Things went from bad to worse,” suggested Miss Baker.
“Yes. Things went from bad to worse, until finally he had to give up his position.”
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.
The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom’s ear, whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her, Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.
“I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn’t he?” She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation: “An absolute rose?”
This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.
Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said “Sh!” in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether.
“This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbour—” I began.
“Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens.”
“Is something happening?” I inquired innocently.
“You mean to say you don’t know?” said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. “I thought everybody knew.”
“I don’t.”
“Why—” she said hesitantly. “Tom’s got some woman in New York.”
“Got some woman?” I repeated blankly.
Miss Baker nodded.
“She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don’t you think?”
Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots, and Tom and Daisy were back at the table.
“It couldn’t be helped!” cried Daisy with tense gaiety.
She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me, and continued: “I looked outdoors for a minute, and it’s very romantic outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He’s singing away—” Her voice sang: “It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?”
“Very romantic,” he said, and then miserably to me: “If it’s light enough after dinner, I want to take you down to the stables.”
The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at everyone, and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn’t guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking, but I doubt if even Miss Baker, who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy scepticism, was able utterly to put this fifth guest’s shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to telephone immediately for the police.
The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while, trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee.
Daisy took her face in her hands as if feeling its lovely shape, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.
“We don’t know each other very well, Nick,” she said suddenly. “Even if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding.”
“I wasn’t back from the war.”
“That’s true.” She hesitated. “Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything.”
Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she
------------------------
[Scroll: 6144 Tokens ]
------------------------
didn’t say any more, and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter.
“I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything.”
“Oh, yes.” She looked at me absently. “Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?”
“Very much.”
“It’ll show you how I’ve gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’
“You see I think everything’s terrible anyhow,” she went on in a convinced way. “Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I know. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.” Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom’s, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. “Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!”
The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face, as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.
Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the Saturday Evening Post—the words, murmurous and uninflected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamplight, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms.
When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand.
“To be continued,” she said, tossing the magazine on the table, “in our very next issue.”
Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up.
“Ten o’clock,” she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. “Time for this good girl to go to bed.”
“Jordan’s going to play in the tournament tomorrow,” explained Daisy, “over at Westchester.”
“Oh—you’re Jordan Baker.”
I knew now why her face was familiar—its pleasing contemptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.
“Good night,” she said softly. “Wake me at eight, won’t you.”
“If you’ll get up.”
“I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon.”
“Of course you will,” confirmed Daisy. “In fact I think I’ll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I’ll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—”
“Good night,” called Miss Baker from the stairs. “I haven’t heard a word.”
“She’s a nice girl,” said Tom after a moment. “They oughtn’t to let her run around the country this way.”
“Who oughtn’t to?” inquired Daisy coldly.
“Her family.”
“Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick’s going to look after her, aren’t you, Nick? She’s going to spend lots of weekends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her.”
Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence.
“Is she from New York?” I asked quickly.
“From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our beautiful white—”
“Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?” demanded Tom suddenly.
“Did I?” She looked at me. “I can’t seem to remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I’m sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know—”
“Don’t believe everything you hear, Nick,” he advised me.
I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light. As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called: “Wait!”
“I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.”
“That’s right,” corroborated Tom kindly. “We heard that you were engaged.”
“It’s a libel. I’m too poor.”
“But we heard it,” insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. “We heard it from three people, so it must be true.”
Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn’t even vaguely engaged. The fact that gossip had published the banns was one of the reasons I had come East. You can’t stop going with an old friend on account of rumours, and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumoured into marriage.
Their interest rather touched me and made them less remotely rich—nevertheless, I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove away. It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out of the house, child in arms—but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he “had some woman in New York” was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart.
Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red petrol-pumps sat out in pools of light, and when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, leaving a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered across the moonlight, and, turning my head to watch it, I saw that I was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbour’s mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.
I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction. But I didn’t call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.
II
About halfway between West Egg and New York the motor road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of ash-grey men, who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight.
But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to
------------------------
[Opus: 8192 Tokens ]
------------------------

February 8, 2146, Project Chameleon HQ, Brussels, PRE
It has been a few weeks since Project Autumn has returned back to her normal life. Her days were pretty routine. She would wake up and eat breakfast. Then head to briefs and classes. Then, she would eat lunch before heading off to drills and training that left her sore and extremely fatigued. Autumn would eat dinner, shower, talk to Juliette for a few hours before falling asleep to do it all over again. The days soon became three weeks since she saw Juliette in person. Autumn’s next mission to Rio was quickly approaching. Autumn was excited about it, but what she really wanted to do was spend time with the girl that she really liked. Her training was done, and she was packing her bags for her mission. Autumn was told that she would be a part of the next gauntlet that would take place after she gets back from Rio. She was very excited about it and couldn’t wait to tell Juliette. Autumn looked at the time and saw that it was still five hours before she would normally call Juliette. She was bored, lonely, and really wanted to talk to her. Autumn wrestled with this as she packed her bags.
Agents of Chaos HQ, New York City Containment Zone, PRE
Icari raced through one of the remaining buildings of what was once an overpopulated city. Most of what was once known as New York City was destroyed during the Great War. The city was deserted and hardly anyone lived there. It became the perfect location for the headquarters for the Agents of Chaos. Icari found this out through hacking the government’s mainframe. She decided to put an end to them once and for all. Icari also wanted to know what their connection was to the Prospers. She raced floor to floor eliminating their commanders and whoever she came across. Soon, she found the last remaining members as she stalked
them in the lower parts of the building with her curved blades ready to strike. Icari cornered them ready to end the threat of the Agents of Chaos. They knew that they were out of bullets and out of time. They huddled in fear from what they perceived to be their inevitable demise.
“Wait! Please, don’t kill us.” Agent 1 said with fear in their voice.
Icari was shocked and amused as she stopped and said, “Wait…what? Why shouldn’t I?”
“Be…because we are extremely sorry for all of the stuff that we have done.” Agent 1 replied.
Icari scoffed and started to move closer to them. She suddenly froze when she received a notice of an incoming call. Icari smiled when she saw that it was from Project Autumn.
Icari looked at the Agents and said, “Hey, can you all give me some time. I really need to answer this call.” Icari answered the call with a French accent. “Hello, Mademoiselle Autumn. Is everything alright?”
“Did. Did she just put us on hold?” Agent 1 asked.
“I know right and what’s up with the French accent?” Agent 2 replied.
Icari glared at the agents and put a finger to her lips to silence them. They quickly covered their mouths with their hands with fear in their eyes.
Autumn replied, “Hi, Juliette. It is so good to hear your voice. Yes, everything is fine. I am packing for my mission to Rio. I was bored and lonely. I started to think about you and how much I really miss you.”
Icari smiled as she sat down on a desk facing the agents and said. “Aww. That is sweet of you to say. I have been thinking about you too.”
Autumn said, “I hope that I am not bothering you or anything. Are you busy right now?”
Icari replied, “No, not at all. I was taking care of something easy, but it can wait.”
Autumn quickly replied, “Are you sure? We can talk later if you want.”
Icari smiled and said, “No, it’s okay. I am sure that we can talk now.”
Meanwhile, the remaining Agents of Chaos began to argue with one another about what they
should do. Icari could hear their bickering and became extremely annoyed with everything that they were saying. She stood up and glared at them.
Icari counted the remaining agents, sighed, and said, “Autumn, give me a moment, please. It should take me… about thirty seconds to finish this simple task.”
Autumn replied, “Umm…sure. Take your time. I will be here when you are done. Please don’t take too long.”
Icari smiled and said, “Thank you, Mademoiselle. I promise not to keep you waiting long.”
Icari lunged at the remaining agents as they backed away in horror. Fifteen seconds later, Icari had taken care of the last remaining Agent of Chaos. She picked up a cloth and cleaned her daggers. Icari put them away before she pulled out a black disc out of her pocket. She headed towards their command center.
Icari asked, “Autumn, are you still with me?”
Autumn quickly replied, “Yes, yes. I am still here.”
Icari smiled as she put the disc on the main computer’s case and pushed a button as lights began to light up clockwise. She smiled and said, “Thank you for waiting.”
Autumn smiled and replied, “You’re welcome. I would have waited longer.” Autumn teased as she continued. “But… I guess the issue wasn’t as difficult as you thought.”
Icari laughed and said as she left the command center, “Sorry, I suppose I overestimated how difficult the issue would be.”
Autumn laughed and said, “I guess that I wouldn’t know, but the reason that I called you earlier than normal is I have news that I couldn’t wait to tell you at our normal time.”
Icari picked up a bag as she headed down the stairs to the basement where the building’s support beams were located. Icari said, “News? I appreciate you calling me to give us more time to talk, but what is the news?”
Autumn replied as Icari put small boxes with tubes filled with a green and yellow substance on the support beams and flipped a switch, “Yes, I was told earlier today, that after I get back from the mission to Rio, I will take part in the next gauntlet to decide who I may get paired with. What do you think?”
Icari was shocked and froze when she heard the news. She became scared that it would become a lot more difficult for her to see Autumn. Many feelings and thoughts ran through her head.
Autumn became concerned and asked, “Juliette, are you still there?”
Icari shook her head and replied, “Sorry, to make you concerned, and I am happy for you. Are you excited about your mission to Rio?”
Icari threw the empty bag aside after she placed the last box. She started to head back up the steps to the command center.
Autumn was excited as she replied, “I am super excited to be going for a couple weeks. They said that I deserve it from all of the stuff that I have dealt with lately. It will be two weeks of nothing but swimming and relaxing in the summer air.” Autumn became nervous as she continued. “B-but I- I w-wish that you could be there. It would be my first Valentine’s Day spending it with someone that I really like.”
Icari saw that all of the lights were lit green as she retrieved the black disc. She smiled and said, “Well. Mademoiselle, I may be able to make your wish come true.”
Autumn was shocked as she said, “Really? Tell me you aren’t joking or teasing me. Are you being serious?”
Icari had walked down the stairs to a door that led to an alley. She smiled and replied, “I would not joke or tease you to turn around and break your heart. I cannot make any promises, but I will make sure that I will do my best to help your wish come true.”
Icari walked out the door and pushed a button on her wrist. Suddenly, a black and red motorcycle appeared in the shadows with a black and red helmet with cat ears on it.
Autumn was sad as she said, “I understand. I thought that it would be a great time spending the two weeks with you instead of alone by myself.”
Icari sat on the motorcycle and put on the helmet. The sun started to peek in the east sky. She started
up the motorcycle as she replied, “Do not be sad, Autumn. I promise you that you will have my answer by the time that you land in Rio. You might be surprised by what I can do in such a short period of time.”
Icari pushed a button on her motorcycle as she drove off and disappeared from site. She pushed another button that caused an explosion behind her, and the building collapsed into dust.
Autumn blushed and said, “I believe you and look forward to your answer. Listen, I have to finish packing, eat dinner, and shower. Can I call you later?”
Icari smiled as she replied, “I understand, and you can call me whenever you like. I look forward to talking to you soon, Mademoiselle Autumn.”
Autumn said, “I look forward to talking to you soon too, Juliette. Bye for now.”
Icari said, “Bye for now.” There was a small click. Icari sighed before she continued. “Watcher, are you there?”
Watcher scoffed. “Yes, I am here. Are you done flirting with your girlfriend?” Watcher said annoyed.
Icari snapped back, “I wasn’t flirting with her, and she isn’t my girlfriend. Listen. When I get back to the safe house, I will be uploading the files that I uploaded from the Agents of Chaos mainframe. I need you to decipher the files to see if they were working for the Prospers and any other useful information.”
“Anything else?” Watcher asked.
Icari replied, “Yes, I need you to immediately hack into the system and book a flight for me from Harrisburg to Rio De Janeiro. I need a limousine to take myself and Autumn to the harbor, where a boat will ferry us to a beach home on Paqueta Island. We will be there for two weeks. Put everything under the name Juliette Trudeau.”
“Why should I?” Watcher asked abrasively.
Icari replied, “Well, you have two choices. Either I am out of your hair for two weeks, or I make your life a living hell for the next two weeks. Then, I still book it on my own. You choose.”
“Fine. Fine. It’s not like I care if you spend time with your girlfriend or not. Everything will be taken care of by the time you make it to the safe house and upload the files.” Watcher replied.
Icari snapped back, “For the last time, she is not my girlfriend! And thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t mention it. It is kind of nice to see you happy once more. Have fun and
remember that we have a war to win.” Watcher said kindly.
Icari smiled and said, “Yeah, I won’t forget.”
An hour and a half later, Icari pulled into the safe house in Harrisburg. She pushed a button on her motorcycle and the garage door opened. Icari pushed the button, and it closed. She pushed another button, and they became visible once more. Icari took off her helmet and placed it on her motorcycle. She walked to a wall in the garage and revealed a secret panel. Icari inputted the code, and a secret staircase was revealed. She walked down the stairs as the wall closed behind her. A room lit up as she opened the door. The computer turned on and system was running. Icari approached the computer as she took the black disc out of her pocket. She put the disc on a reader. The lights flashed on and worked in reverse. Icari received the itinerary, confirmation for the rentals, and digital tickets. As the disc was uploaded to their mainframe, Icari walks to a closet marked for Juliette. She opened up the closet and pulled out two bags already packed for her for two weeks in a summer environment. Icari closed the door. When she was done, she walked over to check the disc and saw that it was fully uploaded. Icari grabbed the bags and walked up the stairs. When she got near the top, the computer shut down, door sealed closed, and the secret door into the garage opened. After Icari had passed, the door closed and sealed shut. Icari walked into a normal home and left the bags near the front door. She cooked lunch at the same time Autumn would call her. They talked for a few hours before Autumn headed to bed. Soon, Autumn and Icari headed to their perspective airports to start their journey to Rio. Five hours and forty-five minutes later, Juliette’s plan landed at the International Airport in Rio
De Janeiro. She grabbed her carry-on bag and went to get her check in luggage. Juliette headed for the main doors and walked out into a sunny midmorning day. The air was refreshing, and it was already setting up to be a warm day. Juliette had made sure to change her appearance before she left for the airport. Juliette looked around and saw a limousine. The driver was standing outside it. He was holding a sign with Juliette Trudeau written on it in big letters. She smiled and walked over to him. The driver eyed her as she approached.
Juliette said,” Olá, eu sou Juliette Trudeau.”
The driver lowered the sign. “Olá, eu estive esperando por você, Sra. Trudeau.” The driver replied.
Juliette smiled and asked, “Can I see your sign while you put in my bags in the trunk, please?”
The driver bowed. “As you wish, Sra. Trudeau. Your guest should arrive soon from Brussels.” The driver replied as he handed over the sign and a marker.
Juliette smiled as she took the sign and marker from the driver while she said, “Obrigado.”
“De nada, Sra. Trudeau.” The driver said as he placed Juliette’s luggage in the back.
He walked to where Juliette was and took the sign and marker from her. The driver opened the door for Juliette to get in. When she was seated, he closed the door and stood outside of the limousine. Thirty minutes later, Juliette’s heart began to race as she saw Autumn walk out of the airport with her luggage in tow. Autumn had put on her glasses and looked around. She froze when she looked towards the limousine. Autumn slowly walked over to the driver.
Autumn cautiously said, “Hi, I am Project Autumn. Are you looking for me?”
The driver bowed. “Yes, I have been expecting you, Sra. Autumn. Let me put your luggage in the trunk.” The driver replied.
Autumn thought, “I never would think that Project Chameleon would have a limo waiting for me at the airport.”
Autumn replied, “Umm… sure. Thank you.”
The driver opened the door for Autumn to get in. He closed the door after she was comfortably seated in the back of the limousine. Autumn watched the driver take her stuff to the back. She was startled, and her heartbeat faster when she heard the sound of a familiar voice from inside the limousine.
Juliette smiled and said, “Hello, Mademoiselle, Autumn.”
Autumn instinctively lunged at Juliette as she turned to face her and kissed her lips. She immediately realized what she had done from the shocked look on Juliette’s face and blushed as she moved away. Juliette smiled and took Autumn’s hands into her own.
Autumn said, “Hi, and I’m sorry Juliette. I don’t know what came over me. I just got so excited that you were here.” Autumn took a deep breath before she continued. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
Juliette replied, “It’s okay. I am happy to see you too. I told you that you would have my answer by the time that you had landed here. I thought that the best way for me to give you my answer was to be here in person to give it to you.”
They heard the sound of the trunk closing and saw the driver walk down the side of the limousine to the driver’s door. He opened it, got in, closed the door, and started the engine. He pulled away from the cub and headed towards the pier.
Autumn said, “I am really glad that you brought your answer to me. When did you get here? How long will you be able to stay here?”
Juliette squeezed Autumn’s hands and smiled as she replied, “So am I. I got here around two hours before you did. If it is alright with you, I plan on being here the entire two weeks that you are.”
Autumn smiled as she said, “Yes, yes. That would be perfect for me. But…where are we headed?”
Juliette winked as she replied, “It is a secret, and you will have to find out when we get there.”
The driver drove them through town as they talked in the back of the limousine. When they arrived at the pier, The driver parked the limousine and got out. He went to the side and opened the
door. Autumn and Juliette got out and looked around. They spotted a yacht ready to go as the driver took their luggage out of the trunk. Some men came over and grabbed their luggage, and they followed them onto the yacht as the limousine pulled away. Thirty minutes later the yacht pulled away from the pier and headed towards a small island. Autumn looked around excitedly as Juliette smiled and watched her reactions. Soon, they had docked at the island. Another limousine was waiting at the pier as they got off the yacht. The same two men carried their luggage off of the yacht, and the driver put the luggage in the trunk of the limousine after Autumn and Juliette got in. They drove them a little ways until they reached an office building. Juliette got out and checked in. She came back out with their keys. The driver drove them to the beach front rental home. As Autumn got out, she was amazed. She turned to face Juliette as the driver took their luggage out of the trunk.
Juliette smiled brightly as she said, “Surprise.”
Autumn was still shocked as she asked, “Are we staying here the entire time?
Juliette nodded as she replied, “Oui, this is the rental home that I had reserved for us the two weeks. Are you surprised?”
Autumn looked at home and back at Juliette. She blushed as she replied, “Very much so. I can’t believe that you would go through all of this trouble just for me. Thank you.”
Juliette smiled and said, “It was no trouble at all to see you. You’re very welcome. Shall we go inside?”
Autumn blushed and replied, “Yes, I would like that.”
They grabbed their luggage and headed to the front door. Juliette pulled out the key cards and handed one to Autumn. She swiped the key card reader. It beeped, turned green, and an audible click could be heard signaling that it had been unlocked. They headed inside and were at awe from how beautiful everything looked. They looked around and saw two large rooms, a kitchen, patio, living room, both rooms had a bathroom, a breakfast nook, pool, jacuzzi, grill, study, and everything that someone would need. They walked back to the bedrooms.
Juliette asked, “Which room would you like to take?”
Autumn looked away and replied, “Well…I was…thinking that…that we could share…the same room, if…if you don’t mind.”
Juliette smiled and replied, “I don’t mind. I would enjoy that very much.”
Autumn smiled and said, “I would like that too.”
They picked the largest room and took their stuff in there. They put everything away and decided to change into their swimsuits. They headed to the beach and swam for a while. Autumn and Juliette grew closer through the days. They spent every day together. On Valentine’s Day, they went swimming when the sun rose. Autumn and Juliette came back and feed each other chocolates and ate chocolates. They laughed and were having fun until Juliette remembered that soon Autumn would leave for the labyrinth to run the gauntlet and became sad. Autumn noticed this and became concerned.
Autumn was concerned as she asked, “What is wrong, Juliette? Why are you so sad?”
Juliette frowned as she replied, “I just remembered that you will be going away soon for the gauntlet
where they will team you up with a new partner. Then, there will be no room for me in your…”
Juliette was shocked as she looked up at Autumn who had put her finger on her lips.
Autumn smiled warmly as she said, “No one will take your place in my heart, Juliette. I don’t care who they pair me with, but you will be the only one for me. So, do not worry about that. I will always be only yours.”
Juliette smiled and lunged forward knocking Autumn over and the chocolates onto the floor. She kissed Autumn deeply. The day past and was the best Valentine’s Day Autumn ever had. She woke up the next morning to realize that Juliette wasn’t in bed with her. Autumn could hear Juliette’s voice carrying in from the patio. She decided to see what is going on. She was sleepy as she got up, stretched and yawned as she put on a robe. She walked to the patio as she rubbed her eyes.
Juliette said, “.... Yes I... I promise that...See you...I.., you.”
Autumn smiled when she saw Juliette watching the sun rise. She was in a robe and held a cup of coffee. Autumn walked over to Juliette and hugged her from behind. She caught the smell of the coffee, the morning air, the beach, and Juliette’s hair. Juliette smiled and giggled from Autumn’s warm embrace. She leaned back into her. Then, Juliette turned around to face Autumn and handed her the mug that she was holding as she leaned against the railing. Autumn sipped coffee and smiled.
Juliette said, “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
Autumn smiled and nodded as she replied, “Good morning. I slept very well. I woke up, and you weren’t in bed. I heard you talking to someone. Is everything okay? Who were you talking to?”
Juliette took the mug from Autumn as she replied, “I am sorry to have worried you. I am usually back in bed before you wake up. Yes, everything is fine. I was talking to Dr. Hubert like I do every morning to make sure everything is okay back at home. You know that you could always just run away with me. I know a place where they will never find us. We could start a new life together.”
Autumn smiled warmly as she said, “I am glad everything is going well back home for you. I would like that, but you know that I can’t leave. We would have to look over our shoulders for the rest of our lives on the run.”
Juliette frowned, looked at the mug, and replied, “I know, and I wouldn’t want to live on the run either.” Juliette paused before she continued. “I just have a bad feeling about this. Please, stay safe.”
Autumn put her hands on Juliette’s as she replied, “I will be safe. There is nothing to worry about. The gauntlet is completely safe, because only training rounds are allowed to tally up scores. I will call you immediately after it is over to prove that nothing happened to me.”
Juliette looked into Autumns eyes and said, “I hope that you are right.”
The rest of the time flew by and soon they headed back to the airport for their flights. Autumn left first, and Juliette left next. Juliette landed in Harrisburg International Airport. Autumn landed at Brussels. They had a quick conversation as Icari made it to the safe house. After they hung up, Icari got a phone call from Watcher.
“Hey, Icari. I hope that you had fun. I went over the files that you sent me, but I couldn’t decode them. So, I…” Watcher started to say.
There was a brief pause before a monotone girl’s voice spoke. “Hi, mommy. We need to talk.” The girl said.

I’m looking to monetize a short term vacation rental in the off-season. How do I go about advertising to Stockton students? Do they have a newspaper? Facebook group?

I am posting here instead of AskNola because my questions there tend to get drowned out by tourists. Plus I like this subreddit better. 😊
Engine Light flashed, car started shaking. Brought it.to Kia dealer and they said it's a clogged catalytic converter and it will be 3200 to fix it. Does anyone know somewhere reputable and affordable? It's for a 2013 Kia Soul. I was taking my 7 year old on a beach vacation next week and this price is basically going to prevent us from going.
Thank you in advance for.your help.

I'm DIRECTLY calling out Bluestone Living Property Management & HRS Property Management in KitcheneWaterloo for how they have been treating a friend of mine. I recommend that no one EVER rent from either of these people or anyone affiliated with them as they are willfully misleading people as to their rights.
A few weeks ago, my friend decided to move out of poorly upkept apartment building (seriously City of Kitchener, this place needs to be inspected for structural integrity) to a home. The notice was less than 60 days (the minimum a tenant can give notice), but if the landlord can find a new occupant prior to the next month, the rent deposit must be returned. Under no circumstances can it be retained to pay damages as it can ONLY be used for the last month's rent.
I'm sure many of you can see where this is going, but I too am a landlord (posting anon because I always get death threats... even when I'm posting PSAs about tenant rights or agreeing we need licensing) and was able to intervene before my friend was taken advantage of AGAIN by her landlord.
See, this isn't the first thing they have willfully mislead her on. Last year, before we met, my friend wanted to put her partner on her lease. The landlord (Bluestone at the time) didn't want to do it UNLESS she agreed to;

• increase her rent by 9.1% (in 2022, the max legal increase was 1.2% without having to apply to the LTB and even if approved cannot be more than 3% above the Rent Increase Guideline [4.2% total max]. Form N10 required for this)
• pay an additional last month's rent deposit to the one she already had (violating 106(2) of the Act)

106(2) The amount of a rent deposit shall not be more than the lesser of the amount of rent for one rent period and the amount of rent for one month. 2006, c. 17, s. 106 (2).
Of course, not knowing her rights at the time, she agreed to this nonsense. A landlord cannot force you to increase rent when you wish to bring in another tenant, so long as it does not jeopardize health and safety. This can be roughly translated to, so long as the apartment is not at capacity. This was a two-bedroom apartment and prior to wanting her partner on the lease, she was the only tenant (plus felines).
Upon moving out, she gave less than 60 days notice. Not ideal, but given the state of the building, one could argue that the landlord isn't meeting their obligations under the Act. The foundation of the building is badly cracked, there is water damage from where an upstairs unit leaked into hers, the fridge provided is literally falling off its hinges (I kid you not, the thing was covered in duct tape), previous tenant damage to walls was not repaired, and so on. There are other tenants in the building who have given my friend testimonies that the landlord will not complete repairs in a timely manner, if at all.
The rule is this; the landlord can collect rent for those 60 days, even if you no longer live there, unless someone else moves in. This god awful unit was re-rented at 60% MORE than she was paying... with no repairs completed. Just a quick professional clean.
Instead, the new landlord (HRS Property Management) said that they would be keeping $350 of her rent deposit to pay for repairs. This is ILLEGAL.
The rent deposit can only be used as the rent payment for the last month or week before the tenant moves out. It cannot be used for anything else, such as repairing damage to the rental unit.
Any and all charges for damages must be filed through the Landlord Tenant Board, not directly issued to the tenant, especially if the tenant attempts to repair the damages themselves. Indicating to the tenant that did a "poor mudding job" is pretty low when all they have to do is sand it a bit. If the LTB agrees that the tenant should be held responsible for the damage, the LTB can order the tenant to pay the cost of repairing the damage. The landlord CANNOT issue this on their own.
What the landlord CAN do it charge rent for each day that the unit cannot be occupied while repairs are being complete if the termination was less than 60 days. That means that as soon as the new tenants occupy, the landlord takes that last month's rent deposit, divides by 30 (for days) and multiplies by as many days as the unit was vacant. Whatever is owed, they keep and then send the rest back. As far as we know, the new tenants went in 2 days after my friend vacated.
As of right now, the HRS has failed to refund any money at all, including the key deposit which is required to be returned the moment the keys are given back. Two rent deposits and a key deposit are being held hostage with a promise that it will be paid back by July 1st. I have a feeling they will take that $350 anyway even though my friend has stated to get it, they need to talk to the Board.
People... please for the love of all that is good, know your rights as tenants and challenge your landlords when they attempt to take advantage of you. There are many good landlords out there who are understanding and reasonable, but I'll be honest, for every one of those, there are 5 who will WILLFULLY twist your rights and hide laws that benefit you from you. We need proper licensing and training for landlord. Just owning property is not adequate qualification. More accessible information sessions for tenants should also be a thing (free Webinars for tenants could do so much good).
Here are a few good links to help you out;

• https://tribunalsontario.ca/documents/ltb/Brochures/Guide%20to%20RTA%20(English).html.html)
• https://tribunalsontario.ca/documents/ltb/Brochures/How%20a%20Tenant%20Can%20End%20Their%20Tenancy%20(EN).html.html)
• https://news.ontario.ca/en/bulletin/1000340/ontarios-2022-rent-increase-guideline

I may be a landlord myself, but I am not a legal professional. I can be wrong about certain points here, but I stand by my statement that many landlords and property management firms use tenant ignorance of the Act as a weapon to get more money.
Tenant paralegals are inexpensive to consult and I recommend contacting one if you believe your landlord may be violating the Act. I contacted one to make sure I was following the rules when I needed to evict a tenant causing excessive disturbances to myself and other tenants (another LONG story). Get educated people. Don't get in a situation like this where you were forced to shell more cash than you need too and may not get it back.
Ask that paralegal about rent deposit interest. I guarantee most of you here have never heard of it before.

Hello! I’m thinking to do a solo weekend trip soon. I’m wondering if I should 1. Rent a car in Boston and drive to Cape Cod or 2. Take a bus/train to Cape Cod and get a rental car upon arrival or 3. Just go with public transportation the whole trip.
I don’t have anything too crazy planned: just want to try different coffee shops, walk along the beach. Will a rental car be necessary for these things?
Thank you!

I live In the northwest of the united states. Where the cost of living is extremely high. I was fortunate enough to be able to buy a house in a nice area during the recession. Meaning I got a lot of Bang for the buck. A twenty five hundred square foot house overlooking a beautiful mountain With four bedrooms. plus bonus room. Since, The children have grown and I have gotten divorced. I am now the sole owner of said house. I rent out rooms to make a little extra cash. It went well for the Most part Two years. Then I met someone. I had three roommit's and my mother living with me at the time. One of my roommates at the time was oil to my vinegar. At the same time I asked her to leave I did move my boyfriend in with his teenage daughter. For those that are counting, That is six people living in five bedrooms, boyfriend shares room with me. About a year later one more roomate moves out leaving five people in a five bedroom house. My BF and the remaining roommate Are not each other's favorite people but they manage. It's been this way for about a year now. Now comes the beginning of the end. The roommate asks me if she can move her adult son and wife in. My roommate has been here the longest and I thought we had built up a friendship in the past Three years. I also do feel guilty for moving my boyfriend. I have tolerated her Side comments about how she did not sign up for this (Dealing with a man and Teenager). I do not hold my tenants to a rental agreement. As long as they pay their rent they are on a month to month basis. I do have one not so normal household rule, you can't drink in my home. I am in recovery. So far The previous mentioned reasons I said yes to Her request of moving her son and his wife in. My boyfriend and her son are both dominant alpha males. There has been issues from the start. Key moment was when I was asked if a specific amount of things could be moved in my garage by her son I said yes To the specific amount of things. While I was at work a load of items were delivered; Filling half of my two car garage doubling the previously Agree Upon space. The resolution was an increase to their rent. Since then, there has been micro territory aggressions but nothing I couldn't Handle.Now comes where I have reached out to a layer. In the past two days my roommate has accused me of abusing her dog. I allow pets. My roommate has a large poodle mix with floppy long hair hanging from her ears. My roommate says when she was brushing her dog she she found The dogs' hair on one of her ears had been cut. The best way I could describe it is when a child gets bubble gum in their hair and it has to be Cut out. No harm to the skin. She is accused everybody in my house of "abusing" her dog Except her son and his wife. Aiming most allegations at my BF and his daughter. Stating one of them did this to make her move out. But the very next day leaves her dog in my care without permission while she goes to the beach all day with her son. Today she demanded that I pay for the dogs complete grooming. $179.00. To be deducted from her rent that she is already late paying for this month. She claims since she thinks it happened in my house I am responsible for the "damage". I have contacted a lawyer. Per his advice I am paying the money I have set my roommate a message saying she can Deduct The cost of the grooming and I am serving her was a twenty day notice. I am not kicking her out because because she's demanding the money. I am kicking her out because of the word "abuse". I no longer trust her. I feel this is a ploy to not pay rent. She has yet to pay me the rent she still owes me for this month. AITAH?

We are visiting Kauai in first week of July. 2 adults and 2 kids(Ages 3 and 6)
Day 1 - Flying from west coast. We will land around 1pm and check in to Kauai Shores. Visit Lydgate beach and Kamalani playground. Day 2 - Drive to Waimea canyon. Visit all the lookouts and then visit Poipu beach on way back. Day 3 - Daddy and 6 year old will go for mountain tubing adventure in morning. All 4 of us will then do Kauai shores plantation railway train ride at 2pm Day 4 - Drive to north shore and spend time there Day 5 - Fern Grotto river cruise in morning and rest of the day free Day 6 - Checkout and fly back
Is there any boat ride that we can do with such young kids ? Is there anything else that we should cover ? Would you recommend to attend Luau with kids ?